Nicholas Smith - Deliverance

“Twenty-nine thousand feet below us is one of the most intense electrical storms I’ve ever seen,” Jordan continued, “and beneath that, the city that was once called Miami. Make no mistake, there will be countless threats on the surface. The traitors we once called friends have taken over Deliverance. Your job is to take it back from them.”

He paused to think of the most convincing lie or half-truth. “Michael Everhart will claim he was abandoned down there on the surface. If you see him, do not be deceived. Do not negotiate with him. He and the other traitors are armed and dangerous. Don’t hesitate to fire. They surely won’t hesitate if they have you in their sights.”

Sergeant Jenkins slung his rifle over his shoulders. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll take care of them.”

Jordan scrutinized the sergeant, still unsure how far to trust him. Hell, he wasn’t sure he could trust anyone anymore. But that was why he had one last test up his sleeve.

“Hunt, bring in Bennett and Donnie,” he said.

Hunt hurried to the launch bay doors while Jordan sized up the divers and soldiers in front of him. Everyone looked frightened, but for different reasons. Jordan had a feeling Jenkins was more worried about his daughter’s life than his own. Families made reliably good leverage. But Jordan was going to add another incentive just in case any of them weren’t as loyal as they seemed.

The launch bay doors screeched open, and he turned as Hunt and a pair of militia guards led two teenage boys into the room. These pimply-faced wastes of Hive resources were the ones who had defaced the bulkhead with their effigy of the captain with his throat cut. The militia had finally ferreted them out, and now it was time to make an example of them.

Hands bound and wearing orange coveralls, the two prisoners shuffled forward, eyes burning with rage.

“On your knees,” Jordan said.

Bennett slowly got down, but Donnie remained standing, defiant. One of the militia soldiers kicked him in the back of the leg, forcing him to one knee.

Hunt spoke. “You have been charged with, and found guilty by a jury of your peers, the crimes of vandalism, conspiracy, and threats against the captain of the Hive . You are hereby sentenced to five years in the brig with minimal rations—or conscription into the Hell Divers.”

“Five fucking years!” Donnie spluttered. “It was just a joke , man.” He looked at Jordan and spat on the deck. “You’re a pig. You think we’re stupid? We know you’re a liar and a—”

In a swift motion, Jordan drew his sword and traced a line across Donnie’s neck before the boy could finish his words. Blood spattered the shiny metal floor and flecked the toes of Jordan’s boots.

“No!” Jennifer shouted.

Les wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she turned away, burying her face against his side. Erin watched, expressionless, as the boy reared his head back, bloody bubbles gurgling out of his mouth.

“You were saying?” Jordan said, raising a brow. He looked at the edge of the blade. “She’s sharper than I thought.”

“Please… please, don’t kill me,” Bennett said as Donnie slumped to the deck, his body still fighting to scavenge a few more precious seconds of life.

“I’ll join the divers,” Bennett said. “I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Of course you will,” Jordan said. He turned to the others. “This is what happens to traitors, and this is what you’re all going to do to Michael Everhart and his comrades when you find them. Got it?”

The divers and soldiers all nodded at once.

“Good,” he said. “Now, go get me that ship.”

Les looked out the porthole as the launch bay emptied. A pair of soldiers dragged Donnie’s limp body away, leaving a broad smear of blood. Another soldier hauled Bennett outside, presumably to return him to the brig.

“I can’t believe he did that,” Jennifer mumbled for what seemed like the fiftieth time.

Les put a gloved hand on her armored shoulder but didn’t reply. Erin’s helmeted head was downcast, silent, but Olah was smirking.

“He wanted to cut Jordan’s neck, so Jordan cut his,” he said. “Seems fair to me. That’s what I call karma.”

Olah fastened his harness across his chest armor. If karma was real, then Les was really looking forward to the moment Olah got what was coming to him.

“Quiet, all of you,” Erin said. “Fasten in and prepare for launch.”

The divers all finished belting into their seats while Erin made sure their weapons and gear were secured by mesh nets attached to the bulkheads.

A technician in a yellow jumpsuit knocked on the porthole, and Erin gave the man a thumbs-up. He returned the gesture and then secured the hatch over the thick glass window, sealing the divers in darkness. Then two LEDs in the top of the pod warmed to life, spreading red light over their armored bodies. Erin belted in and reached up to the control panel to prepare the operation systems.

Les chomped down on his mouth guard, preparing for the rush. Part of him was glad they were taking the pods down. He liked having a thick layer of insulation between himself and the storm. But what if something happened with the chute? What if this was just an elaborate plot by Jordan to get rid of him?

Snap out of it. You’re going to be fine. Katherine, Phyl, and Trey will all be fine.

“Preparing for launch in T minus one minute,” said an automated voice.

“All systems look good,” Erin said.

“Sit back and enjoy the ride,” Olah said with a chuckle.

“You’re sick, man, you know that?” Jennifer said. “This ain’t no game.”

“Aw, lighten up,” Olah sneered. “I’ll be sure to watch your back once we get down there.”

“Cut the shit,” Erin said.

“Thirty seconds,” said the same automated female voice.

The seconds ticked down on the mission clock at the upper right corner of his HUD. Les tried to focus on the task ahead. Over 470 people were counting on them. Even if Ty was right about everything Jordan had done, Les and the others had no choice. They had to take Deliverance back from Commander Everhart.

He just wished there was a way to do it peacefully. Killing Sirens and monsters was fine. It was a clear choice: shoot them or get eaten. An easy decision. But the thought of killing another human made his guts churn. Les imagined having to tell Trey that he had shot Michael Everhart. He pictured the look of hurt and betrayal in his son’s eyes that his father had killed one of his role models. If the order came to pull the trigger, he wasn’t sure he could do it.

“Ten seconds,” repeated the female voice.

The red lights in the pod shifted to a cool blue as the clock on his HUD hit the end of the countdown. Les took a breath that smelled of plastic. His heart hammered, and the blood rushed in his ears. The launch process was different from a free-fall dive, and he wasn’t prepared when the clock hit one.

Something clanked below them, and they were falling into darkness. Les imagined them plummeting through the clouds, gaining speed with every passing second.

“Good luck,” said Jordan’s voice over the comms. “Do not come back without my ship. The future of the human race depends on you.”

“We dive so humanity survives,” Olah replied.

Erin repeated the motto, but Jennifer and Les remained silent. He anxiously watched the altitude and speed on his HUD. It occurred to him that the top of his helmet nearly touched the roof of the small pod, and he tightened his straps to make sure a jolt didn’t earn him a broken skull.

The comms crackled, and Lieutenant Hunt came online. “Entering the storm in ten seconds. Prepare for turbulence.” The transmission cut out, and Les wondered whether it was the last time he would ever hear from someone on the Hive. Death would be bad, but failure would be worse—Jordan might take it out on their families. He had no doubt that if the mission went sideways, he wouldn’t be coming home.