Nicholas Smith - Deliverance

Michael seemed to have the same thought. “Timothy, are you okay?” he asked.

The AI nodded, finally turning back to the team. “Yes, Commander.”

“You’re sure?” Layla asked.

Timothy shifted his gaze from Michael to Layla. “I am functioning within normal parameters.”

His words didn’t seem to convince Michael, who gestured for the AI to join him. They stepped aside to have a private chat.

“Let’s finish up here,” Magnolia said to Rodger.

“He’s off his rocker, man,” Rodger whispered. “Can AIs lose their shit? Because—”

“Let Commander Everhart deal with Timothy,” Magnolia said. “You just focus on not puking, okay?” She grabbed two long curved blades that looked like double-edged sickles off the table and slid them into sheaths that buckled across her chest armor. The new weapons would replace the knife she had lost at the Hilltop Bastion. She had already rewrapped the old metal hilts.

Next, she stuffed flares and extra shotgun shells into the front of a nylon bandolier around her thigh armor.

Rodger chose an ax from their gear—another tool they had found on the ship. He had cut it down into a more practical weapon by removing half the handle.

“I’m honestly more worried about what we’re going to find on the surface,” Layla said quietly. “Assuming we survive the radiation and monsters down there. What if we’ve come all this way for nothing? What if X is just a skeleton?”

“He’s alive, trust me,” Magnolia said. “You were too young to remember him, but he—”

“Bullshit,” Layla said, stepping up within inches of Magnolia’s face. “I remember him just fine.”

Michael returned before Magnolia could reply. His youthful features were strained, and she could tell he was nervous about more than the expedition to find X. He didn’t need Magnolia picking a fight with his girlfriend.

“Something wrong here?” he asked.

“Nope, we’re good,” Magnolia said firmly. Layla held her gaze for a second before backing off.

The hull suddenly creaked, and the floor vibrated as the ship began to lower through the clouds.

“Initiating landing procedures,” Timothy announced. “We’re at twenty-two thousand feet. We will arrive at the landing zone in ten minutes.”

“You heard him,” Michael said. He pulled the blaster out of his thigh holster and dropped a flare and two shotgun shells into the break. The other divers finished their final preparations, with the clatter of magazines being slapped into weapons.

It wasn’t exactly predive jitters, but Magnolia felt a messy combination of fear and adrenaline working through her system. The ship jolted again as they lowered through the sky. Lightning flashed outside the portholes, but they were too far away from the storm for the distant thunder to rattle the bulkheads.

“Ten thousand feet,” Timothy announced.

“Start scanning the LZ for heat signatures,” Michael ordered. He watched the map on the center console. A green overlay appeared, but not a single heat signature blinked back during the first scan. It looked as though the ground was clear. Michael folded a map on the table and slipped it into a waterproof sleeve while they waited for Timothy to finish the scan.

“Radiation levels are in the upper tiers of the yellow zone,” Timothy said. “No contacts in the general vicinity.”

Michael grabbed his helmet and slipped it over his head. “Okay, Raptor, time for a systems check.”

Magnolia slung her rifle over her back and put on her helmet—the final step of their gear prep. One by one, the HUDs flickered on, revealing their beacons on the minimap in the upper right corner.

“Raptor One, online,” Michael said.

“Raptor Two, online,” Layla said.

Rodger tapped the side of his helmet several times. “Oh, there we go,” he said on the third try. “Raptor Three is A-OK.”

“Raptor Four, online,” Magnolia said.

“Open the doors,” Michael ordered.

The hydraulics hissed as the top of the loading door opened. A light wind gusted into the bay, puffing up the sheets that covered the corpses on the platform.

Michael grabbed a backpack from the table and set it at his feet. “Timothy, as soon as we move under that storm, we’re probably going to lose contact,” he said. “Wait for us in the sky here unless another storm rolls in. Once we link up with X, we’ll transmit for evac. I expect it will take us several days to complete the mission.”

“Understood, Commander. I will be here waiting for you.” The AI smiled, displaying a perfect set of holographic teeth, but his expression seemed forced.

Magnolia’s stomach knotted. What if Timothy left them out here? He might look like a man, but he was technically a machine—and an unpredictable one at that.

The loading door continued opening as the Hell Divers approached, standing side by side. Lightning forked through the swollen storm clouds, leaving behind blue afterimages that quickly faded. The skies to the south were mostly calm.

“Six thousand feet,” Timothy said.

Magnolia chinned on her night-vision goggles and waited for her eyes to adjust to the green view. Wind continued to whistle into the cargo hold. A rogue gust flipped the sheet off Timothy’s deceased daughter. The fabric sailed away, flying past Magnolia as if the girl’s ghost had finally departed.

Timothy’s hologram faded in and out before solidifying again. The bulkheads vibrated as the ship suddenly picked up speed. Magnolia reached out for something to hold on to, stumbling.

“Timothy, hold us steady,” Michael called out.

“Warning,” announced an automated female voice over the PA system. “Warning,” she repeated in a calm and professional manner. “Threat level rising.”

Timothy started walking toward the bodies, ignoring both the alert and Michael’s order. The door was almost completely open, and as they picked up speed, the drafts grew more violent, rippling the exposed parts of Magnolia’s suit. A second sheet blew away.

“Timothy!” Michael yelled.

“Warning,” the female voice said a third time. “Thrusters three and four are offline.”

Deliverance tilted slightly, enough to throw Magnolia off balance. The following jolt, amplified by the speed of their descent, sent her crashing to the floor.

“Threat level critical,” the maddeningly calm female voice said over the PA.

“Timothy, what the hell are you doing?” Michael screamed.

Layla and Rodger remained standing, their arms flung out for balance. The lift door finished opening with a metallic click as Timothy’s holographic projection bent down next to his dead daughter, the wind whipping her thin hair. The sheet over his wife had flipped up, exposing her leathery face. He reached down to cover her back up, to no avail.

He’s gone haywire , Magnolia realized as he kept trying to pull the sheet back over her face even as the ship crashed.

The Klaxon wailed from the speakers, and the female voice continued to warn them of the impending crash. “Emergency. Threat level critical. All thrusters are offline. Ship integrity threatened. Please move to life-support units.”

The airship tilted again, and Magnolia scrambled for the platform. Her eyes had adjusted to the optics, and in the green hue she glimpsed the terrain below. There didn’t appear to be a road—only what looked like vibrating earth.

She tried to get to the corpses, thinking that if she could just cover them, Timothy might snap out of it, but the ship tilted again before she could reach the liftgate. The bodies began to slide toward the edge of the platform. The shovel slipped over the side.

Timothy remained on his knees, swiping determinedly at his dead daughter with his see-through hands.