Nicholas Smith - Deliverance

Cole remained standing in front of the crowd, with his dark eyes locked on Jordan. It was going to take more than this cryptic explanation to convince the father that his son had died for a noble cause.

Running his hand over the smooth plastic surface of a launch tube, Jordan said, “Captain Ash was right, in a way. The Hilltop Bastion was a good place for humans to wait for the radiation to clear on the surface. But then the Sirens and other mutated beasts claimed it as their own home. Thanks to the information your son and his fellow divers retrieved, we can now focus on avoiding places like this and surviving in the skies.”

“If you knew there were these Sirens down there, why did you send my boy?” Cole growled, lowering his arms and clenching his fists.

“You misunderstand,” Jordan said. “I didn’t know for sure.” His eyes flitted to Sergeant Jenkins, who glared at Cole, ready to silence the man at a moment’s notice. Jordan didn’t want it to come to that. He wouldn’t let anything disturb the fragile peace aboard the ship. The loss of so many divers at once had united the upper and lower decks for the first time in as long as he could remember.

“I’m truly sorry for the loss of your son,” Jordan said, “but Rodger’s death has reaffirmed what most of us already believed. Life will continue in the sky for the next two hundred and fifty years, until the radiation and electrical storms have finally abated.”

He patted the launch tube one last time. Once, it had dropped the very bombs that destroyed the surface. Now it dropped the men and women who kept the ship in the air.

After a half minute of silence, Jordan forced a smile. “I was going to keep this confidential, but your son sent a final message to the Hive .”

Cole squinted at him as if looking for the lie. “What did my son say?”

“He wanted his discovery of the monsters at the Hilltop Bastion to embolden us. He said he wanted more men and women to follow his lead and fight tooth and nail for the future of humanity.”

Jordan waited a beat and then added, “Rodger knew that his death and the deaths of the other divers would leave a void, but in his final moments he sent a message of courage—and a challenge to those of us still breathing.”

Jordan saw the bob of Cole’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed. His balled fists fell limply to his sides, and he slipped his callused hands into his pockets.

Jordan almost smiled. He had turned the tide with yet another beautiful lie. He pressed his advantage.

“Today, we’re gathered not only to mourn the lost Hell Divers but to honor them as well. And in keeping with Rodger Mintel’s final request, I humbly ask for volunteers. Who of you will accept his challenge? Who will step forward and become a Hell Diver?”

If the airship had a nerve center, Michael Everhart was sitting directly in the middle of it.

The smooth charcoal-gray bulkheads rumbled quietly throughout the bridge of the ITC airship Deliverance . Monitors and touch screens flashed data all around him. The bridge was a third the size of the Hive ’s, and instead of split levels, it consisted of a singular circular space, with all stations positioned around a central island that served as a desk.

Bulkhead-mounted monitors surrounded the space, and a single leather chair sat facing the largest screen, at the helm, with a row of chairs behind the captain’s. The one thing Michael missed from his old home was the ship’s oak wheel. Here, there were modern flight controls for the captain and supporting pilots.

The differences in subtle details reminded Michael that this wasn’t home and never would be. Deliverance was simply a vehicle that he would use to find Xavier Rodriguez before returning to the Hive.

He couldn’t quite believe that X was still alive down there, but he also had trouble believing they had escaped the Hilltop Bastion in a brand-new ship. Well, most of them had escaped. Not everyone had been so lucky.

Commander Weaver and Pipe had lost their lives. And for what? To be used as pawns in Captain Jordan’s private agenda? Their blood was on Jordan’s hands, and Michael was going to make sure the son of a bitch paid for their deaths.

But first, he needed to figure out how they were going to survive.

He focused on the screens, taking in as much information as possible, but his expertise was with the systems of the Hive. Deliverance was much more sophisticated, a newer model than the ancient airship he had grown up on. And after a few hours of cleaning dust off the bridge, she shone as she must have coming off the assembly line two centuries ago.

He tapped the holographic screen in front of him and pulled up the flight data. Unlike the Hive , Deliverance relied heavily on turbofans and thrusters. It also had a single nuclear engine, and no helium gas bladders at all, which explained the smaller size. Deliverance also came equipped with the first artificial intelligence that Michael had ever met. Timothy Pepper, manager of the Hilltop Bastion, had transferred his consciousness to the sentient program upon his death. That program was now running the airship.

According to Timothy, this was Deliverance ’s maiden journey. That didn’t inspire confidence. Michael, Layla, Magnolia, and Rodger had spent the past two days working on a host of problems ranging from mechanical to electrical issues. Every time they fixed something, another alarm would beep, indicating a new crisis. Currently, they all were off working in different compartments.

“Timothy, can you give me a sitrep on our operating systems?” Michael asked.

“One moment, Commander Everhart,” Timothy replied over the PA system.

Michael continued scanning the data while he waited, unable to relax his tired muscles in the firm leather seat. For the first time in his life, he was actually sitting in something “new.”

“The nuclear engine is operating at eighty-five percent, and the energy grid is at seventy-five percent,” Timothy said. “But several secondary systems are not functioning properly. Life-support systems are currently at fifty-one percent and dropping. Only three of six thrusters are working, and the turbofans are—”

The oval hatches to the bridge whisked open, and footsteps clattered across the metal platform, stopping Timothy in midsentence. Michael twisted in his seat to see who it was. Layla, his lover and best friend, stood silhouetted in front of the open hatch. By her posture, he could tell something else was wrong.

“There you are,” she said.

The overhead lights flicked on, spreading a blanket of bright white over the room. Layla’s freckled face was covered in grease, and her braided blond hair was draped over one shoulder. Pulling her hands from the pockets of the baggy blue sweatshirt that hid her athletic body, she caught his gaze.

He hurried over to meet her. “Hi,” he said. “What’s up?”

She smiled warmly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He raised one brow. “You?”

Her deep-brown eyes flitted to the metal platform as some thought or memory passed through her mind, casting a cloud over her normally sunny features. She met his gaze again and sighed. “I’m hanging in there.”

Before he could reply, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. “I guess I just missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” he whispered back. Since leaving the Hilltop Bastion, neither of them had found much time to talk. When they weren’t working, they were sleeping, too exhausted to make love during the scant time they had alone together.

“Timothy was just giving me a report on the secondary systems,” Michael said. “It’s not good.”