Nicholas Smith - Captives

“Use this on your wounds,” Imulah said. “It will help them heal faster. You’re going to need all the strength you can get. Your first fight at the sky arena is tomorrow night.”

Captain Katrina DaVita stood alone on the bridge of the stealth warship USS Zion , staring out over a dark horizon. Lightning cleaved the clouds, leaving behind streaks of blue visual residue that faded long before the clap of thunder reached her ears. Waves continued to pummel the vessel.

The Metal Islands were out there, and so were her friends, somewhere beyond the soup of electromagnetic storms.

She resisted again the impulse to take the warship off autopilot and plow full steam ahead. But as captain, her responsibility was to the population of the Hive and Deliverance first, then to X, Magnolia, and Miles.

But knowing they were out there, imprisoned or perhaps worse, continued to haunt her and the rest of the team. For now, they had to find a way around the monster storm blocking the way and keep trying to make contact with the airships so they could firm up their battle plan.

Interference from the electrical storm had kept her from speaking to Chief Engineer Samson or her XO, Lieutenant Mitchells, for several days now. The storm was messing with everything, including their radar and instruments.

The panels in the cruiser’s bridge beeped as she scanned the data. Normally, she liked the solitude of working alone, but too many things weighed on her mind tonight. The open water posed countless threats: mutant ocean denizens, AI defectors that were out there somewhere, potential Cazador pirate ships, and a monster storm that had a fifty-mile front and covered at least two thousand square miles.

The rain sheeted down on Trey Mitchells and Jaideep Abhaya as they patrolled on the deck below, the battery units giving their shapes a faint blue glow. The clouds flashed into view behind an intricate skein of lightning. The crack of thunder followed just seconds later, rattling the bulkheads.

She sent a message over the comms to pull Jaideep and Trey back inside. As the warship plowed into the oncoming waves, the blue-lit figures on the deck below changed direction, moving back toward the safety of the ship.

Katrina checked the radar next. The readings were still scrambled.

“Piece of crap,” she muttered.

She picked up the radio and buzzed the Combat Information Center, where Eevi Corey and her husband, Alexander, were working up a weapons inventory.

“How are things coming down there?” Katrina asked.

“Good, almost done,” Alexander replied.

“Meet me on the bridge in fifteen minutes.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.”

Katrina considered calling the medical bay to check on Edgar Cervantes, who was still recovering from his injuries at Red Sphere, but she didn’t want to wake him if he was resting.

The comm station beeped, and she moved over to pick up the call from Sandy Bloomberg and Jed Snow. The two youngest members of the crew were tasked with sweeping the compartments belowdecks for supplies.

“Captain, this is Sandy, do you copy?”

“Copy. Go ahead, Sandy.”

“We’re finishing the search of the locked compartments and have uncovered some dried food and a water-recycling system.”

“Great work,” Katrina said. “How about weapons?”

“Negative,” Jed replied.

Katrina swore under her breath. She was hoping they would uncover more of the laser rifles the AI DEF-Nine units had used to such catastrophic effect at Red Sphere. Even a few of the advanced weapons would be a boon to the Hell Divers in the fight once they arrived at the Metal Islands. She prayed the Cazadores didn’t have any of them.

“Report to the bridge in fifteen minutes,” she told Sandy and Jed.

Several other beeps sounded, and Katrina hurried back through the bridge to check the reports. A ship of this size should be crewed by over a hundred people, but she had just eight, and most of them, including her, had no experience with an operations system this old.

Happily, the ship was advanced enough that it could run almost on autopilot, although she still preferred to have a human at the helm.

Maybe she shouldn’t have sent Les and Layla back to the Hive.

She shook the doubt away. Second-guessing her decision wasn’t going to do any good. Leading required her to stay confident in the wake of the tragic deaths they had suffered over the past few days.

Losing Erin Jenkins and Ramon Ochoa at Red Sphere had hit the team hard, and Michael Everhart’s devastating injury compounded the loss. He would survive, but his diving days could be over. And how helpful could he really be in the coming war?

And although she really could have used Layla and Les, they were where they needed to be. She needed a fighting force, and Les was the only officer diplomatic enough to recruit one.

The hatch whisked open, and one by one, the greenhorn divers entered the bridge for their briefing.

She scrutinized the only Hell Diver team she had left. The youthful faces of Jed, Sandy, Vish, Jaideep, and Edgar reminded her of soldiers from the Old World. There was a reason that militaries wanted young people, and not just because they were faster and stronger. They also believed they were invincible.

The difference between a Hell Diver and an old-world soldier was the difference between a gladiator and a prize fighter—like the gladiator, anyone who joined a Hell Diver team knew that death was coming sooner or later.

She pushed the thoughts aside. They had a lot to cover.

“It’s nasty out there,” Trey said.

Jaideep shook his long hair and flopped into a chair.

“Trey, why don’t you go see if you can reach the airships,” Katrina said.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied politely. Stepping through the maze of stations to a bank of communications equipment, he sat and placed his helmet on the deck.

Lightning outside the porthole windows flickered through the bridge as the divers took a seat and more of the greenhorns stepped onto the bridge. Edgar Cervantes limped in after the others, doing his best to keep a straight back.

“You could have stayed in the med ward,” she said.

“Doing fine, Cap.”

Katrina could see the pain he was trying so hard to conceal.

“No dice,” Trey said after fiddling with the equipment. “Samson still ain’t answering. Can’t get Lieutenant Mitchells, either.”

“’Cause of that storm,” Vish said.

Another round of beeps went off, and Eevi walked over to check the weather station. The former militia investigator glanced back at Katrina.

“This isn’t good, Cap,” Eevi said.

Katrina gave a nod and, in her command voice, said, “All right, everyone, have a seat and grab a bite. I have some updates to give and a decision to make.”

All took seats around the metal table and dug into the fresh food they had brought down from Deliverance. The fruit was already starting to go bad, but the tomatoes were still firm and red and juicy. They also had some week-old bread and jerky left over, but that was it.

Once they finished this meal, they would be forced to use freeze-dried stuff and protein bars made in the bowels of the airships.

“Sandy, Jed, what did you find belowdecks?” Katrina asked, licking tomato juice from her fingers.

“Not much, really,” Jed replied. “We have about two weeks of food that we brought down from Deliverance. But the new stuff… not sure if it’s any good. Freeze-dried, and packaged well, but it’s dirt old.”

Sandy nodded. “And the water-recycling system isn’t working. Without it, we have two weeks of water, at best.”

That was all Katrina had counted on needing, until the storm interfered. She followed an arc of lightning outside the port window, thinking about their odds. It could take a week or more to get around the storm, and she doubted X and Mags had that much time.