Nicholas Smith - Deliverance

“Yes,” Erin said, “I’ll be diving with you. But Command doesn’t know that yet, so keep it between us.”

Les blinked. He had assumed that Jenkins and Jordan would have worked out some sort of deal to keep Erin safely aboard the Hive. Some said she had been yanked from active Hell Diver duty after her daddy pulled some strings, and he was surprised that she planned to join them on the surface. Surprised—and a little worried. He couldn’t forget the other rumors he had heard about her and the fate of her old team.

Erin clapped her hands together. “Let’s get to it. In three days, we’re diving to an ITC facility that’s apparently flush with fuel cells and other parts the Hive desperately needs. There’s a lot to do before then.”

Jennifer raised a skeptical brow at Les. He grinned back at her. He didn’t know Jennifer well, but he could tell they were going to get along—even if it wasn’t for very long.

Olah, eager as ever, looked at the other divers. “You heard her, let’s move it, people.”

Les wasn’t sure about the militiaman. He seemed to have some grandiose idea about dying for the Hive out of duty. Not Les. He was more like Tom and Jennifer, who were here to help their families. The idea was not to get killed.

For the next several hours, in the ops room, they ran through the module training that simulated a typical dive. It turned out diving involved much more math than Les had originally thought. That was okay; he was pretty good with numbers.

“Running calculations while diving through a storm is not easy,” Erin said. “In fact, it’s next to impossible, especially when your HUD is offline. That’s a heads-up display , in case you didn’t know. You won’t be able to communicate or use your night-vision goggles. You must use this.” She tapped her skull.

“Our suits will protect us from lightning, right?” Jennifer asked.

“There’s a synthetic layer built in that will help deflect electricity, but it won’t save you from a direct strike. We’re not diving through the really bad storms, so you won’t have to worry about that.”

The launch bay doors creaked open, and the divers all turned to look out the ops room window. Two militia soldiers walked into the bay with Captain Jordan.

“I’ll be right back,” Erin said. “Run through the simulation again while I’m gone.”

She left the divers behind to sit and stare at the screens.

“ Three days before our first dive?” Jennifer said after a moment, flipping a dreadlock over her shoulder. “This is fucking crazy.”

Tom tapped the table. “I hope they include firearms training, because the only weapon I’ve ever used is a knife, and that’s only to butcher guinea pigs and chickens in the kitchen.”

Jennifer snorted. “I didn’t sign up to die in three days. I thought it would be a while before we actually dived.”

“We’re going to be fine,” Olah said. “I’m trained on many different weapons, and I’ll show you how to use them. I don’t know about you, but I personally plan on breaking Xavier Rodriguez’s and Rick Weaver’s records. Look at this as an opportunity, not a death sentence.”

Les wanted to laugh, but he managed to keep a straight face. He wanted to tell Olah the truth: that the overeager ex-militiaman would likely be the first to splatter on the surface or get torn apart by some mutant beast.

In his experience, people who wanted to be heroes usually ended up dead.

“Your parents think you’re a hero, Rodger Dodger,” Magnolia said. “Try to stop worrying. You will see ’em again.”

“You can’t know that.” He sulked for a moment longer, then looked up and said, “I miss my parents so much, and I still can’t believe Jordan used me. That worm-eaten pile of goat shit!”

Magnolia looked over her shoulder as they walked down the passage. “Doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. Bastard tried to kill me by cutting my chute.”

“I’m going to wring his neck,” Rodger growled, bringing his hands together around an imaginary throat.

Magnolia halted in the dark passage and turned. “No one touches Jordan but me,” she said, poking Rodger in the chest. “You got it?”

Rodger swallowed and nodded. Not that Magnolia scared him, but he didn’t want to do anything to upset her. She finally seemed to be warming to him, and he didn’t want to blow it now. The elephant he had carved for her peeked out from a side pocket of the small pack she carried over her shoulders, and he eyed it with a smile.

Nice work, Rodgeman. Nice work, indeed .

She walked away, and Rodger did his best not to gaze at her backside as he followed her into another wing of the ship. Clusters of crew quarters branched off from the main corridor. They would need to search them all, for a prize could await behind any one of these doors.

“I don’t understand why the residents of the Hilltop Bastion didn’t retrofit this ship and take it into the sky,” he said.

Magnolia smirked. “ Really , man? You’re smarter than that. It’s pretty clear to me why.”

Rodger didn’t like her condescending tone. “Why’s that, then?”

“Everyone was already living belowground. And they didn’t need a warship, because the whole world was already destroyed.”

“Oh.” Rodger shook his head. “So Deliverance just sat there waiting all these years, still armed with enough bombs to blow up the world a second time?”

Magnolia raised a brow. “Yup. Now, come on. We have to get to work. You take the hatches on the left; I’ll take the right.”

Rodger threw a salute and grinned, but Magnolia didn’t return either gesture. Clearly annoyed, she walked over to the closest hatch and spun the wheel until it clicked open.

“Good luck,” she said.

“You, too.”

Rodger opened the first hatch on the left. He entered, took in a draft of stale air, and flipped on the bank of overhead lights. Only one bulb flickered to life, revealing a small room furnished with a desk, bed frame, and couch. The desk drawers were already open, and the bed had been stripped of sheets. He checked the closet, pulling back a drape to find two metal cases, both of them open and empty.

It looked as though someone had already raided these quarters. But how was that possible? Rodger went back out to the passage and tried the next hatch, with the same result. The third and fourth were also empty—not so much as a towel or pillowcase left.

The fifth hatch was stuck. He braced his shoulder against the metal and pushed with all his strength. Inside, something groaned and scraped, like the sound of metal grinding against metal.

“Come on, Rodgeman,” he whispered.

Grunting, he shoved the hatch open and stumbled into the room. The entrance had been blocked off from inside with the desk, bed frame, and several chairs. He flipped on the light. The grate covering the vent had been removed and lay in the center of the floor. Bending down, he examined some deep parallel gouges in the floor. It was as if someone had dragged a pitchfork over the metal.

Feeling uneasy, Rodger stood and backed out of the room. The next room was also blockaded, and he could shove the hatch open barely more than inch. He peered inside. A streak of something brown was smeared across the floor, and he decided that he didn’t want to get inside after all.

“Mags, I found something you got to see,” Rodger called out.

When she didn’t reply, he jogged down the final stretch of passage and rounded the corner. Magnolia stood outside another hatch, grunting as she tried to twist the wheel.

“Help me with this,” she said, her face red from the strain.