Nicholas Smith - Deliverance

Swallowing hard, X scrambled backward as the beast peeled away from the wall and dropped down. The impact of the seven-foot-tall monstrosity shook the ground as dust puffed around its hooves.

“Run!” X shouted.

Miles turned and ran as the beast staggered toward X. He raised his rifle and aimed at the creature’s chest. Three rounds smashed through the rocklike armor covering flesh and vital organs.

The rock monster let out a deep howl and swiped with a long arm. Its massive paw hit the muzzle of the gun and knocked it free. X staggered backward and reached to pull his blaster from the holster on his thigh, like a gunslinger preparing for a showdown.

He pointed the gun at the beast’s forehead and pulled the trigger.

Click.

His heart thumped against his ribs. Contacts beeped on his HUD. More of the monsters were out there, awakening from their hibernation.

The creature in front of X took another step forward and raised its thick, muscular arms. The flesh looked exactly like weathered stone. X continued to retreat from the camp. He flipped open the break of his blaster but then decided just to run.

The beast followed, opening its wide maw and releasing a roar that boomed like thunder. The rocky ledge shook as four more of the beasts dropped to the ground.

Miles barked at them and then looked to X for orders. He eyed the rifle, then the rucksack still tucked against the wall. They would have to come back later for the gear.

“Go, Miles!” X shouted. He motioned for the dog to follow him into the toxic rain. They could fight another day.

The launch bay reeked of sweat and fear. Captain Leon Jordan hated that smell. It was the bouquet of the Hive —a scent he had breathed his entire life.

Normally, technicians, engineers, and Hell Divers preparing for a descent to the poisoned surface would have crowded the bay. But today there were no flashing lights or countdowns warning of an imminent launch. That didn’t mean the space was empty, though—far from it.

For the first time in the documented history of the Hive , there weren’t enough Hell Divers to make a jump. Only three remained. Two of them were in the sick bay—one with a broken back from a mission years ago, and the other with cancer. The third diver, Jordan’s former lover Katrina, sat in the brig.

Instead of the predive bustle, hundreds of citizens had squeezed into the launch bay to mourn the loss of the men and women who hadn’t returned from the last dive. They all stared across the room at the smooth plastic domes like giant eggs covering the launch tubes.

Only a few knew that the divers hadn’t all perished at the Hilltop Bastion and that Jordan had chosen to leave them behind. The divers might very well have still been alive when he gave the order to leave them down there. But the traitors had made their choice—and paid the price.

“Today, we gather to honor the divers who gave their lives on the last dive to the Hilltop Bastion,” Jordan said, his voice booming through the vaulted room.

Every face turned in his direction as he stepped out from the crowd and walked toward the launch tubes. Stopping at the first plastic dome, he turned and scrutinized those gathered.

At the front of the crowd, Lieutenant Hunt, Jordan’s new XO, and Ensign Ryan both stood stiffly. They knew the truth about what had happened at the Hilltop Bastion, but as loyal soldiers, they would protect the truth with their lies or face the consequences. There were several others who knew what had happened. Men such as Ty Parker, who were not so trustworthy as Ryan and Hunt. The technician was now cooling his heels several cells down from Katrina. Jordan still wasn’t sure just what Chief Engineer Samson knew, but the man had remained loyal so far, and he was far too valuable to throw into the brig—or jettison out of an air lock.

Jordan continued his scan of the crowd. Right of Lieutenant Hunt stood Sergeant Leonard Jenkins, commander of the militia. He also knew the truth. In fact, he knew more than any of Jordan’s crew—especially about the false prophet, Janga. And while he had been loyal thus far, Jordan was starting to suspect that Jenkins didn’t like the way he was running the ship. It was in the subtle things—the vaguely insolent slouch in his stance, the second of hesitation before following an order.

He would need to do something about Jenkins, but first he had to get everyone else in line. After letting out a rueful sigh that could be heard throughout the room, Jordan began the speech he had been planning for several days.

“Commander Michael ‘Tin’ Everhart, Commander Rick Weaver, Magnolia Katib, Rodger ‘Dodger’ Mintel, Layla Brower, and Andrew ‘Pipe’ Bolden might not have returned with fuel cells or supplies for the Hive , nor did they find a habitable place for us to set down, but their sacrifice was not without worth. Their loss, though regrettable in the utmost, proves a point that many of us have had a difficult time accepting.”

He waited a few seconds before continuing. “They proved there is nothing down there awaiting humanity besides death. No miraculous green zone—no radiation-free area where we can sow new crops. Nothing… but… death.”

He paused again to let the words sink in. Among the crowd were several lower-deckers, as evidenced by their poor hygiene and tattered clothing. A few of them shed tears; others held their heads high, choosing to honor the memory of the divers without showing any emotion. Jordan respected them for that. He had never trusted anyone who was overly emotional. People like Captain Ash, who put her heart before her brain. Doing so compromised a person, making it impossible to be rational.

One thing was certain: he had the unwavering attention of everyone in the room. Good. He was sick of the traitors, thieves, and snakes. The only way humanity would continue to survive on the Hive was through complete obedience. He would tolerate nothing less. The time for niceties was over.

“If anyone in this launch bay still believes there is something down there for us, feel free to step forward. I will happily instruct our technicians to give you a one-way ticket to the surface so that you may investigate further.” Jordan gestured toward the launch tubes.

“Does this mean we’re giving up the search entirely?” asked a deep voice.

Jordan searched the crowd to find the man who had interrupted him, but he saw no one obvious. “Step forward if you wish to speak,” he commanded.

The sea of passengers parted down the middle to disgorge a haggard-looking Cole Mintel.

“Are you saying my son gave his life just to prove a point?” he asked.

Jordan considered his response for a moment. The last thing he wanted was to make a scene with the disgruntled father of a dead Hell Diver. Besides, Rodger had played his part perfectly, using the Industrial Tech Corporation card Jordan had given him to reveal what was really down there.

“Your son died for far more than that, sir,” Jordan said, opting for the truth. “Your son died by discovering what awaits anyone who sets foot on the surface.”

Cole folded his muscular forearms, honed by countless hours of woodworking, across his chest. Confused faces centered on Jordan. He still had their attention. He was in control of the crowd, but to keep it, he would have to tell more of the truth than he had planned on. The truth about the world they feared, and the idea of a home that some still believed possible.

“Rodger and the other Hell Divers entered the Hilltop Bastion because of bogus information from Captain Ash,” Jordan said. “Their deaths are on her shoulders, not mine. She had hoped that the Hilltop Bastion might be an area we could turn into a new home, but as I suspected, the bunker was nothing more than a tomb overrun by creatures out of a nightmare.”