Nicholas Smith - Captives

The doctor squirted the gelatinous blue ointment and used his gloved fingers to massage it around the stump. After coating it, he applied a fresh bandage. Michael gritted his teeth while the doctor applied the ointment that burned like hell.

“All set,” Huff said. “I’ll check on you later today. If you have any phantom pains, let me know and I’ll up your pain-med dosage.”

As soon as the doctor left, Michael stood and grabbed his shirt off the chair. The hell with sitting here and waiting to heal. He didn’t have the two weeks Dr. Huff had said it would take to heal completely.

Even with the applications of the nanotechnology, two weeks was way too long, and the gel did nothing to lessen the phantom pains.

He slipped his shirt over his head and his lean, muscular torso. Doing everything with one hand took some getting used to, but he was doing better on his own now.

It was time to get out of here and join Layla on the bridge, and then he was off to search the records for any information he could dig up on the AI defectors. After losing his arm to the machines, he wanted to learn everything he could about them.

He left the medical bay without drawing any attention. The nurses on duty and Dr. Huff were with other patients, and even if they tried, they couldn’t stop him from leaving.

He was down an arm, but he was still a Hell Diver.

What he hadn’t expected were the stares and the comments as he made his way through the Hive , toward the tunnel connecting it to Deliverance. Everyone he passed stopped and stared, or else turned and followed him, calling out questions.

“Did the Sea Wolf really make it to the Metal Islands?”

“Is the Immortal fighting the cannibals?”

“Did they eat your arm?”

Michael let out a snort and pushed on, trying to jog. Lightheaded from the drugs, he quickly had to slow down to a fast walk through the freshly painted passages. He took comfort in the artwork. Captain Jordan’s legacy was being purged from the ship, and everything he had destroyed was slowly being brought back: the records restored, new paintings gracing the bulkheads, and spirits lifted with hope.

In the skies, hope is a dangerous thing.

But this was the first time in his life that he felt it for more than a fleeting moment. X had indeed found the Metal Islands—a real place that could house the population of both airships.

A home for the future of humankind.

The question was, how much would it cost them to take it from the Cazadores? Or could these two very different groups find a way to coexist?

His gut told him that neither option would be easy and both would be costly.

More voices followed Michael down the passages, and he stopped when he saw Phyl Mitchells. The young girl carried a small chalkboard under her arm.

“Hi, Commander Everhart,” she said politely.

“Hey, kiddo, how’s school?” He leaned down to check the scribbles on the board. “Is that algebra?”

She nodded but still wouldn’t meet his gaze. Her eyes were on his stump.

“What… what happened?”

“I got hurt, but I’m going to be okay.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” the girl said, “but do you know when Trey is coming home?”

“Soon. He’s on a really important mission.”

Curious eyes met his gaze. “Mission?”

“That’s like a job to do.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry about your big brother; he’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” Phyl said. “I hope you feel better soon.”

Michael watched her go until she was around the next corner. Like the rest of these people, the kid had no idea yet what was going on.

Michael jogged the rest of the way. By the time he got to the bridge of Deliverance , he was out of breath and sweating. His stump throbbed with every beat of his heart, and he cradled it in his good hand, gritting his teeth.

Ada Winslow, the young ensign, looked up from her station as he passed the two militia guards and walked through the open hatch. Her freckled face held a worried look.

“Commander Everhart. I wasn’t expecting y—”

Layla cut her off with a shout across the room. “Tin! What in the wastes of Hades are you doing here?”

Michael smiled. “I got sick of sitting in that rat cage.”

Ensigns Dave Connor and Bronson White both stood at their stations, studying him with empathy—especially Dave, who had lost a leg in an engineering accident years ago.

“Welcome back,” Bronson said in his chalky voice.

“Good to see you, Commander,” Dave said.

“Good to be here,” Michael said. He walked through the circular open space. The stations surrounding the central island flashed with data and reports.

He still remembered the first time he was here in one of the comfortable leather chairs after Pipe and Commander Rick Weaver lost their lives at the Hilltop Bastion.

The sad losses played over in Michael’s mind, and he winced at other painful memories. Erin Jenkins, Rodger Mintel, his own father… The list went on and on.

“Tin?” Layla said. “Are you okay?”

He nodded and sank into the chair beside the radar station she was monitoring.

“I’ve got something to tell you,” he said. “But first, how about an update? Have we heard anything from the USS Zion yet?”

Her dimples framed a frown.

“I’m afraid not. Nothing from Timothy Pepper of the Sea Wolf , either.”

“Damn…”

“The electrical storm separating the USS Zion from the Metal Islands is likely blocking the signals.”

“Let’s hope that’s the reason,” Michael said. He swiveled the chair over to the computer monitor and pecked one-handed at the display.

“What did you want to tell me?”

“Give me a second,” Michael said as he kept typing.

Another voice entered the bridge, and they both looked up to see the tall frame of Les Mitchells duck beneath the hatch lintel.

“Commander Everhart!” Les said “It’s great to see you up and about.”

“Good to see you, Lieutenant,” Michael replied.

Les walked through the bridge and joined Michael and Ensign Winslow at the radar station.

“How’s the recruiting going?” Michael asked.

“Slowly,” Les said. “Everyone wants to ask about the Metal Islands. When I tell them about it, they keep hearing sunshine and balmy ocean breezes and ignore any mention of cannibalistic barbarians that currently reside on the rigs.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Michael said. “I got harassed on my way here.”

“Maybe it’s time to tell them the truth,” Layla said.

Les shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ve been waiting for orders from Katrina before doing anything except recruiting.”

“I also think it’s time we sit down with Samson and talk about bringing Timothy Pepper back online on the Hive ,” Layla said. “I think we’re going to need him.”

Michael let his stump down, his eyes on the bandage. “Knowing now that Timothy Pepper of the Sea Wolf helped X get to the Metal Islands, I’m of a mind we can trust his counterpart on the Hive .”

Les looked at Michael with uncertainty. “You lost your arm to an AI back at Red Sphere, but you’re okay with bringing a different AI back online?”

Michael and Layla exchanged a glance.

“I’m with her,” he said. “Pepper is not a defector, and I don’t think we have any choice at this point. We’re low on people and need the help.”

Les pursed his lips to one side and then said, “Okay, I’ll talk to Samson, and if he agrees, we’ll bring Pepper back online.”

Magnolia scanned the sky outside her window for any sign of the Hive , Deliverance , or the glowing blue battery units of Hell Divers falling through the clouds. In her mind’s eye, she could picture the chutes blooming out, and the muzzle flashes of assault rifles flickering like mutant lightning bugs as the sky soldiers lowered to the rescue.