Nicholas Smith - Deliverance

They pulled apart as the AI’s translucent form solidified over the platform beside them. The computer-generated version of Timothy mimicked the real man, from the old-fashioned suit to the neatly trimmed hair and beard.

“Would you like me to continue that report, sir?” the AI asked.

“Not right now. How far are we from Commander Rodriguez’s coordinates? And how long will it take us to get there?”

“I require additional parameters. At what speed do you intend to fly?”

Michael rubbed the bridge of his nose. Timothy looked and sounded like a person, but he was still a machine. “Obviously, I want to get there as fast as possible,” he said, frustration bleeding into his voice.

“Until the secondary systems are functioning properly and at least one more thruster is working, I do not recommend flying at full speed,” Timothy said.

“At our current trajectory, then. How long until we get to X?”

“It depends on weather conditions, Commander. The ship’s meteorological systems are not functioning at optimal levels, either, which—”

“Just give me a number,” Michael said.

“Sixty-two hours, fifteen minutes, and thirty-two seconds,” Timothy replied.

Layla reached out and a put a hand on his back to rub his aching muscles. “We have time,” she said. “X has survived this long. A few days extra isn’t going to matter.”

“But what if it does?” Michael asked, pulling away. He wasn’t trying to sound rude, but she simply didn’t understand. “We left him down there ten years ago. Can you imagine what that’s been like for him? He’s been all by himself the whole time.”

Michael had thought of little else since learning that X was still alive. Days of wondering what he would be like now—or whether he would be able to forgive them.

“We have to get to him as quickly as possible, Timothy,” Michael said. “To hell with optimum efficiencies. Full speed ahead.”

“Understood, Commander.”

Layla reached for Michael’s hand. “Listen, I get how you feel…”

“Do you?”

She dropped his hand and shook her head. “I’m trying to help, but you’re not doing a very good job of letting me.”

“I’m doing my best to keep this mission going, Layla.”

She looked back at him, her eyes filled with equal parts frustration and love. “I know. With Weaver gone, you’re in charge. You hold rank. That means Mags, Rodger, and I are counting on you to make the right decisions for all of us.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

She sighed. “Meaning that tearing the ship apart just to reach X a few hours earlier is selfish. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

Michael drew in a quick breath, intending to defend his position, but suddenly the passionate fire that heated his veins only moments before eased, cooled by her soft touch. She was right. He entwined his fingers with hers. “I’m sorry. I won’t put our lives in jeopardy. I need to be patient. It’s just…”

“You blame yourself for X.”

“Yeah.”

She kissed him, a light brush of her lips across his. “Michael, X being left behind is not your fault. It’s Jordan’s, and he will pay. Come on. Let’s go find the others and get something to eat.”

“Timothy, belay my previous orders,” Michael said. “Keep us at a safe speed.”

“Copy that, sir.”

Michael followed Layla out of the bridge, his thoughts troubled. They were getting so close to the man who had been a second father to him, the man everyone had given up for dead. A few days ago, X had been nothing but a ghost, but in just over sixty hours, Michael could be reunited with the most legendary Hell Diver ever. What would they say to each other after all this time? Would X even recognize the man Michael had become? And, more troublingly, would Michael recognize X after his long ordeal on the surface?

The oval hatch whispered shut behind them. Lights along the floor illuminated the black metal bulkheads. Absent were the bright paintings and graffiti that covered the Hive . Michael was already missing the scenes that he used to look at every morning on his way to work. It was odd to walk through a passage that hardly anyone had ever used before.

“This place gives me the creeps,” he said.

“Don’t be a ninny, Tin,” Layla said, chuckling.

“Really? You’re still calling me that?”

“‘Tin’ or ‘ninny’?”

A warning sensor cut the teasing short. “What’s that?” Michael asked.

Timothy’s smooth voice replied a moment later, “A minor fluctuation in the electrical grid. It is now at seventy percent.”

They continued walking down the corridor. It was going to take a long time to search each of the quarters for supplies, but for now his focus was on getting the ship working properly. They passed the hatches of officers’ quarters, then the berthing areas for the rest of the crew.

“This place is freaking massive,” Layla said, “but it doesn’t look like it was designed to hold as large a population as the Hive. There aren’t enough cabins.”

Michael pulled his shoulder-length hair back and looped a tie around it as he moved. “Seems that way.”

“I guess it looks a lot bigger with just us four.”

Timothy cleared his holographic throat.

“Us five aboard,” Layla corrected herself.

“Thank you,” replied Timothy’s voice over the PA system.

Layla smiled. “Glad to hear you have a sense of humor.” She whispered over to Michael, “Still don’t trust him, though.”

If Timothy heard her, he didn’t reply.

Michael slowed when they reached the largest hatch on the ship. A sign that read weapons compartment crested the bulkhead. After losing most of their weapons and ammunition back at the Hilltop Bastion, this was the top room on his list of places to investigate. Michael tried to spin the wheel handle, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Won’t open?” Layla asked.

He shook his head and looked up at the closest of the black balls that served as Timothy’s “eyes.”

“Can you unlock this for me?”

“One moment,” Timothy replied. A second later, he reported, “I am sorry, Commander, but the hatch is protected by an encrypted password.”

Michael scratched the stubble on his chin and looked at Layla. She shrugged again.

“Can’t you override it?” Michael asked.

“I do not have the appropriate permission,” Timothy said. “These quarters were locked by General Stan Lorn on March 15, 2075. Overriding the system could trigger a self-destruct mechanism.”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Layla asked. “The ship will blow up if we try to open that door?”

“We’ll figure it out later. For now, let’s leave it.” Michael pointed with his head, and they continued to the engine-room hatch. Layla spun the wheel handle, and Michael helped her swing open the hatch. A dimly lit spiral staircase extended several floors down. Hot air blasted his face as he followed Layla into the bowels of the ship.

Halfway down, he wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead. The temperature continued to rise the deeper they descended. Near the bottom, he heard voices. Loud voices. An argument, from the sounds of it.

“I told you we don’t have enough!” Magnolia shouted.

“We do have enough, but barely,” Rodger replied. “You need to trust me!”

Layla stopped at the open hatch below Michael and flung a glance up at him. He motioned for her to keep walking and followed her out into the engine compartment. Catwalks stretched across the second level, overlooking the generators and engines.

“So you’re going to be the one to tell Commander Everhart?” Magnolia asked. “Because I sure as hell don’t want to break the news.”