Allegiance

THREE

Captain Les Mitchells returned to his quarters on the capitol oil rig right after the council meeting. He wanted to see his daughter and wife before heading back up to the skies. The new training mission would take the greenhorn divers into storm clouds for the first time.

After his son’s death, Les had considered temporarily stepping down from captain to spend more time with his wife and daughter.

“We can find someone else,” X had said. “Take time to grieve your boy.”

In the end, though, Les decided that his duty was not just to his family, but to all humankind. And knowing that the defectors were out there and programmed to obliterate all human life made the decision an easy one.

Now was not the time to grieve. Now was the time to go on the offensive and fight.

“Daddy!” Phyl called out as he shut the door. She ran over from the table facing the sliding door to their balcony. Katherine was there, too, but she did not get up to greet her husband.

Les bent down to hug his daughter. He averted his gaze from the open door to the quarters she had shared with Trey.

Katherine got up from the table, but instead of coming over to greet him, she moved into the small kitchen area.

“Are you hungry, Daddy?” Phyl asked. “We’re making dinner.”

“Starved,” Les lied. “It takes a lot to feed a giraffe.”

Phyl grinned, and he followed her past the other bedroom and the tiny bathroom, into the space that served as both kitchen and living room.

Katherine had her back turned to him and was chopping up carrots on a plastic board.

“What are we having?” Les asked.

“Fish chowder,” Phyl said enthusiastically. “Are you still taking me fishing later tonight? That’s when they bite the best, right?”

Les could have kicked himself, remembering his promise. The smile on his young daughter’s face quickly turned to a frown when she sensed he had forgotten.

“I can’t tonight,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I will take you soon, I promise.”

Katherine looked over her shoulder and raised a brow at him before turning back to finish cutting the vegetables.

I know, I know. I can’t keep breaking promises.

He had already broken the most important promise in their twenty years of marriage, by failing to bring Trey home alive—or at all.

He swallowed hard at the image that kept popping up in his mind’s eye, of the flash and then the mushroom cloud from the bomb that incinerated his son’s body. It had destroyed the defectors that killed Trey, but that was small consolation. Bottom line: he had not been there on the ground to save his son.

His wife must have sensed his moment of weakness, and put the knife down, but she stopped shy of coming over to give him what he needed most: a sign of love. A kiss, a hug, a soothing murmur… Anything.

He longed to have her support again, but he didn’t blame her for the resentment in her gaze. He had failed his son and his entire family.

Nothing he could do would bring Trey back, but he would be damned if he didn’t track down and eliminate the defectors before they could destroy what was left of his world.

Leaving his wife and daughter to finish making dinner, he went out to the balcony. When they had first moved in here, he would sit with his family for hours, looking out over the water and watching the sun rise and set each day.

But tonight, he hardly even looked at the tangerine glow in the west. Instead, he set his backpack down and fished out his tablet. Sitting on a plastic chair, he touched the screen and pulled up the data he had on Rio de Janeiro.

The beachfront city was vast and, according to records, had not sustained a direct nuclear hit during the war. The nuke had instead hit the ocean, creating a massive tsunami that washed away much of the city, but it had also crushed the reactors of a power plant there, causing a meltdown.

The logs from a Cazador scouting mission showed radiation readings of a yellow zone, but the team that was eventually deployed never came back to give a firsthand report.

Les put in earbuds and clicked the audio file. He had already listened several times but wanted to hear it again. Timothy’s clear, soothing voice filled his ears, translating the SOS.

A finger tapped his shoulder, and he turned to find Phyl, beaming at him and holding a bowl of soup. He took out his headphones and smiled at her. Katherine was already sitting at the table.

“Dinner, Daddy,” Phyl said.

He had to smile. “Okay, please set it down for me on the table. I’ll be right there.”

She set the bowl down at his spot as he gathered up his things. He left the sliding door open so they could eat in the cool breeze.

His wife avoided his gaze when he sat, and he avoided looking at the empty spot where Trey had sat. His family had changed so much in a few short months.

Les swallowed, but the lump in his throat remained. He looked out over the water, watching the sunset fade to a purple bruise over the horizon.

Trey had hardly gotten to enjoy the sunshine and the water.

A tear glazed his eye, and he discreetly turned and wiped it away while pretending to scratch his nose. His family didn’t need to see him like this. He had to be strong.

He held out his hands for his wife and daughter to take. They always gave thanks for their food, but tonight Les had something to add to the usual blessing.

Katherine took his hand, but her grip was limp. He squeezed her hand and Phyl’s while thinking of the survivors out there starving in the darkness.

“Tonight, we give thanks for being together in this place where we have food, water, shelter, and safety,” Les said. “And we thank Trey for giving his life so that we and others can have these things.”

Katherine squeezed back. It was a start, but he had a lot to do to help his wife heal. He let go of their hands and picked up his spoon.

“What were you listening to out there?” Katherine asked.

“An SOS from survivors,” he replied.

Phyl tilted her head slightly. “What’s SOS?”

“A message from people asking for our help.”

“There are more people out there?” Katherine asked.

Les nodded. “We mustn’t tell anyone, though, okay?”

Phyl no longer seemed interested in her meal. She had too many questions.

“Eat, kiddo,” Les said. “After dinner, we’ll go fishing for an hour before I have to go back to the sky.”

At midnight, two dozen newly minted Hell Divers huddled outside the fence of tropical trees on the rooftop of the capitol oil rig. The growing canopy, still a bit tattered from the hail of gunfire during the battle with the airships, swayed in the light breeze.

X stood behind a bullet-scarred coco palm, watching as they waited for their ride into the sky. None of the new divers had been outside the barriers of the Vanguard Islands, and he knew they could never be truly ready for what awaited them.

But others were ready. Silhouetted against the rising moon, four veterans stood in front of the greenhorns. Michael and Magnolia were flanked by Edgar Cervantes and Alexander Corey, two of the three surviving members of the USS Zion team. Alexander’s wife, Eevi, had also lived through the Zion’s epic sea battle but was now an ensign on Discovery.

X moved closer for a better look at the four veterans who had taken the leadership mantle of Teams Raptor, Angel, Phoenix, and Wolf. They all looked skyward for the airship being piloted by Timothy.

“Captain on deck!” someone shouted.

Les ran out in uniform, apologizing for being late. If he had his way, he would take them all on a machine-hunting mission. But X knew from experience that a mission of revenge, especially with so many rookie divers, was a sure recipe for mistakes—and unnecessary deaths.

He knew because he had seen it happen many times before.

If anyone was going, it would be the vets and perhaps a small handful of the best new divers. Tonight, X would learn who the standouts among the greenhorns were. They weren’t diving through the fluffy white clouds of the Vanguard Islands, either. They would be tested in a way they have never been tested before.

X had approved the mission even though he wasn’t sure they were ready, because he had no choice. The only way to get them ready was to throw them in the meat grinder—the same thing the Cazadores did by sending their trainees to an island they called the proving grounds.

The whir of the airship made a gradual crescendo, and he could make out a red light blinking in the sea of stars. X remained in the shadows, unseen by the divers and captain. He would’ve liked to be out there giving them all a talk before this important dive, but that was no longer his role and would undercut Michael and the other commanders.

Still, X wanted more than anything to join them. Just thinking of torpedoing through the clouds warmed his blood.

A voice spun him about to face the darkness of the forest. His sword flashed.

“Easy, man,” said a familiar voice. “I got enough scars.”

X lowered the blade but didn’t sheathe it as the figure approached, hands up. The man stepped into the drip of moonlight, revealing a bearded face, glasses, and a grin.

“Rodger,” X said. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching, like you. I always worry about Mags.”

X sheathed the sword and turned back as the airship lowered over the forest. Discovery wasn’t even a tenth the size of the airship that the Cazadores had mounted atop an oil rig and turned into the Sky Arena and gardens, but it still made the ground tremble when its feet touched down on the dirt pad.

The launch-bay doors hissed open, and a ramp extended downward. Michael gestured with his robotic arm for the divers to follow him inside.

X resisted a powerful urge to move, as if a force were tugging him to join the divers and plummet through the unending chaos of the storms.

“I hope they all make it back,” he said.

X unsheathed his sword again, this time handing it to Rodger.

“Hold this for me,” he said.

Rodger took the sword and looked at it, clearly at a loss what to do with it.

“X… what are you doing?”

“Going where I belong. Tell Miles to hold down the fort while I’m gone,” he said with a grin. “He’s sleeping in my quarters.”

“Wait…” Rodger reached out, but X was already running toward the retracting boarding ramp.

“Hold up!” X yelled.

The turbofans kicked up a cloud of dirt that formed a hazy halo around the landing zone. X covered his face with a sleeve.

“wait!” he yelled.

The airship began to pull up.

A rear thruster fired, and the ship moved toward the edge of the rooftop. X ran after it, still shouting and partially shielding his eyes from the gusting wind.

Someone must have heard his voice, because the ramp stopped retracting and started to extend back down. But the ship continued to move, as if whoever had heard his shout hadn’t gotten the message to the captain.

X ran harder, and when he was under the platform, he jumped and grabbed for the ramp. His fingers closed around the metal bar at the end. The airship pulled over the side of the roof and rose into the sky with X dangling from the retracting ramp.

When it was just shy of disappearing fully into the ship and squeegeeing X off into the sea, it stopped, and a diver scrambled over from the launch bay. X looked up to see Michael’s frowning face.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Michael said.

“Just pull me up!” X yelled over the turbofans’ loud racket. His sandaled feet kicked for traction against the hull, but he couldn’t reach it.

Discovery rose higher into the air, leaving the capitol tower behind. A glance down revealed a black desert of water, and it occurred to X that this would be one stupid freaking way to die.

“Come on!” he yelled.

Michael grabbed him and yanked him up and onto the platform, ripping his shirt. Magnolia took his other arm and helped him to his feet.

Together, they retreated inside the launch bay as the doors sealed shut.

Panting, X nodded at Michael and then Magnolia. “Thanks for the help,” he said.

Magnolia took off her helmet. “You just love to keep testing that whole ‘Immortal’ crock, don’t you?”

“No one said anything about you coming,” Michael added.

“Because I wasn’t planning on it—sort of a last-second decision.”

When X turned away from them, every eye in the launch bay was on him. All the new divers, Cazadores included, wore the same confused look.

Even Alfred, the lead technician, had stopped working on Cricket. X avoided the curious gazes and looked at his locker.

But he wasn’t here to dive.

The hatch to the room opened, providing a welcome distraction as Les reentered the launch bay. He looked as baffled as everyone else.

“Sir, what are you doing?” he asked.

“Decided to come along and watch,” X said.

Les paused, then said, “Suit yourself. We’re climbing to thirty thousand feet and heading to the drop zone. Should be there in twenty minutes. The ship and rescue craft are already in position to make sure it all goes smoothly.”

“Good,” X said. “I’ll meet you on the bridge soon.”

“Okay,” Les said in a tone almost of resignation. He turned away, and X noticed how thin he looked from the side. It wasn’t just his normally confident voice that had diminished. He had lost more weight despite having access to more nutrition than ever before in his life. X hated seeing the man like this, but there was nothing to be done. He had to grieve in his own way.

The hatches closed behind the captain, leaving X with the divers and technicians. Alfred finished up on Cricket and moved to help Alberto and Hector with their wrist computers. The Cazadores weren’t familiar with the technology.

Another tech helped Sofia with her booster pack. Arlo was still stuffing his long, curly hair into his helmet. Lena, the quiet former militia enforcer turned Hell Diver, held the helmet for him while he muttered profanities.

X couldn’t even really remember what he was like at their age. That was half a lifetime ago and seemed even longer. He watched them from afar, studying their tense features.

Arlo had been a good friend of Trey Mitchells and had joined up after his death. He finished getting his hair tucked away, and there was the trademark rakish grin as he flirted with Lena who was still holding his helmet. He brushed back a lock of her hair to whisper something in her ear that made her smile.

“That’s why they call you Thunder?” she said loudly enough for X to hear.

I hope you’re as good at diving as you are at charming, kid.

Arlo looked his way and nodded as if he could read X’s mind.

X smirked.

He liked this kid already, but would his instincts and his boldness with women translate into what he would need to dive through dark skies and electrical storms?

They would find out soon enough.

The other divers prepped their gear and performed last-minute checks on their armor and systems. Some chatted in hushed voices and flashed suspicious looks at X. Hector and Alberto stuck with the other Cazadores, while the sky people clustered together.

The King had not expected them to mingle freely, but he hoped they would soon learn to dive together. He would teach them about having each other’s backs—the most important part of being a diver.

Michael finished talking to the technicians working on Cricket. The robot chirped, the hover nodes flashed red, and it rose off the launch bay’s deck and followed Michael, who flashed a proud smile.

“Nice work,” X said. “Reminds me of that vacuum bot you put back together when you were just a kid. Remember that?”

“Of course,” Michael said. He pulled X aside and, in a serious tone, said, “X, what are you really doing here?”

“Look, Tin, I know you got this under control, but I wanted to be here for the first dive outside the Vanguard Islands.” X kept his voice low. “I’m worried some of them aren’t ready.”

Michael looked over his shoulder. “Everyone’s passed the jump test in clear skies, but I am a bit concerned about a few of them, primarily—”

“Ted Maturo,” Magnolia said, joining them.

Michael half frowned, as if he didn’t quite agree but couldn’t really argue with her choice.

“Silver Fox is terrible,” she said. “No way he makes it to five dives. I’ll bet my poker bankroll on it. Chances are good he hurts someone else, too.”

X looked at Michael to get his reaction but got nothing.

“Not everyone is cut out to be a diver,” Magnolia said.

“Maybe hold him back,” X said, trying not to make it sound like an order.

“Agreed,” she said. “Have him dive a few more times in clear skies before you give him the green light for the storms.”

“Only way to learn is to dive,” Michael said. “But if you both think he isn’t ready, I’ll go let him know.”

X appreciated that Michael listened to advice. He was a lot wiser than X had been in his twenties. Hell, X was still crap at taking counsel.

“This should be interesting,” Magnolia said, folding her arms over her armor.

Ted was crouched down, working on his gear with his back turned. X went for a better view and saw the rookie was actually taking a drink from a silver flask.

He stood up with a smile as Michael approached. The smile vanished in an instant.

“No, I’m ready,” Ted said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Michael shook his head. X couldn’t hear his words, but everyone could hear Ted’s reply.

“Commander, please, I can do this.”

The other divers looked up from what they were doing, and the ritual clicks and clanks stopped. Michael patted him on the shoulder and walked away.

Ted turned, glaring at Magnolia as if he knew that she had something to do with this. Then he turned and walked away, kicking at the air in a fit of frustration.

“What are you all looking at?” Michael said to the surrounding divers. “Finish your gear checks.”

As they returned to their work, the wall-mounted speakers crackled. “Prepare for slight turbulence,” said Les. “We’re entering the barrier. We will hit the DZ in approximately T-minus-eight minutes.”

The divers donned their helmets and lined up in teams behind the veterans: Michael, Edgar, Magnolia, and Alexander.

“System checks,” Michael said.

The teams went through the final steps to confirm that their HUDs were working properly and their suits were sealed.

A red light strobed from the corners of the bay, and a siren sounded, warning of the imminent launch. The divers all faced the launch-bay doors in anticipation.

All sense of movement ceased a few minutes later as the airship reached dive altitude over the drop zone. The speakers crackled again.

“Team leads, report,” Les said.

The newly reassigned leaders acknowledged.

“Raptor One, online and ready to dive,” Michael replied.

“Angel One, good to dive,” said Alexander.

“Phoenix One, locked and cocked,” said Edgar.

“Wolf One, online,” Magnolia said. “Let’s see what y’all got.”

The dozen new divers reported in, confirming that their systems were operational.

“Dive safe, everyone,” Les said when they had finished. “Remember your training.”

“Team Raptor goes first,” Michael said.

The launch-bay doors hissed open, and he stepped up with his team, waiting to lead the first new boots into the black void.

A cool blue light swirled from the corners of the bay. X had always found it calming before jumping into the hell that awaited them.

Lightning forked across the black skyline like a misshapen sword stabbing into flesh.

X retreated from the blast of freezing air to the center of the launch bay. The platform extended outward, and Michael led his team toward the dull, pitted metal. Cricket hovered after them and then dropped like a rock into the darkness, to get into position for aerial video of the new divers.

“We dive so humanity survives!” Michael called out.

“Hell yeah, we do!” shouted someone behind X. A figure darted past him and sprinted around the diver teams.

“Wait!” X yelled out.

Before anyone could stop the idiot, he ran onto the platform and leaped into the black abyss. At first, X thought it was a technician or some crazy crewman who had decided to get creative with suicide.

Then he realized that the guy was likely committing suicide.

A glance into the corner where Ted had been sulking told him the rest. And if the kid was as bad as Magnolia said, chances were that he was now taking his last few breaths in this life.