Ghosts

TWENTY

“Everyone but DaVita and Hunt, out!” Jordan shouted from the top of the bridge. Sergeant Jenkins stepped up beside him, glowering at the crew.

The dozen officers and support staff quickly cleared the room, leaving Katrina at the wheel and Hunt at his station. They both watched Jordan walk down the stairway to the lower level.

He passed navigation, communication, and all the other stations where officers had served proudly for hundreds of years. They had all had the same mission: to keep the Hive in the sky. That was the mission he had taken an oath to uphold. Not to set down on the surface, not to hide underground. To stay here where they had survived for 260 years, far above the decaying wasteland of the Old World.

Jordan had thought of all the ways he might convince Katrina that he had no choice but to leave the divers down there, but he hadn’t yet found a scenario where she wouldn’t end up hating him even more than she did right now. In the end, he opted for the truth—or a portion of it, at least.

“The Hell Divers have decided to betray the Hive,” he said. “I uncovered the plot while interrogating Janga. Commanders Weaver and Everhart and Raptor Diver Brower were all seen conspiring with her belowdecks. Magnolia Katib is also suspected of having classified information. At this point, I have to assume that the Hell Divers have all been compromised.”

Katrina’s eyes were full of fire. “Conspiring about what exactly?”

“They were planning a coup,” Jordan said. His gaze shifted from Katrina to Hunt, and his eyes widened ever so slightly.

“That is correct,” Hunt said. He swallowed and then added, “Commander Everhart and Diver Brower launched themselves to the surface after talking with Janga—”

“So they abandoned ship?” Katrina said, cutting Hunt off. “Why would they do that if they were planning a coup?” She folded her arms, revealing the tattoos on her forearms. “Why dive to the surface first?”

“To get reinforcements,” Jordan said.

“No way,” Katrina said. “This is insane. I’ve known Tin and Layla since they were kids. They’re good people. They would never betray the Hive.”

“Really?” Jordan interjected. He pushed his mike to his lips. “Sergeant Jenkins, bring in Ty.”

The doors to the bridge whispered open, and two of Jenkins’ men pushed the technician inside. He staggered to the top of the bridge, holding up a hand to protect his bruised and swollen eyes from the bright LEDs. The militia guards had done a number on the traitor.

“Ty!” Katrina cried out. “Oh, no. What happened to you?”

She ran for the stairs, but Jordan held out a hand to stop her. He needed her by his side now more than ever. Convincing her the other divers were trying to overthrow him was the only way to make that happen.

“I was told Michael held a gun to Ty’s head,” Jordan said, “but it appears that was just smoke and mirrors. This traitor was part of the coup all along.” He held up a crumpled slip of paper. “These coordinates were found in Ty’s pocket after Michael and Layla dove to the surface. It didn’t take much persuasion to get him to reveal the truth.”

Ty looked at the ground.

“Tell Lieutenant DaVita what Michael said to you,” Jordan urged.

Split lips trembling, Ty choked out a reply. “He told me to tell Samson to override the navigation systems. He wanted us to pick them up so he and the other divers could board and take over.”

Jordan spread his arms. “You see? Now do you believe me, Katrina?”

She shook her head again and let out a sigh. “I knew something would happen eventually, but not like this.”

Jordan motioned for the guards to take Ty away. Nodding all the while, he let her do the talking. He could tell he was making headway with her. Patience was the key to winning back her respect and trust—and, eventually, her heart.

“You’re not the first captain to face challengers, you know. I’m sure we all remember the failed mutiny on the farm. But the question is, what will you do now? You can’t just leave them down there. We have to find a solution to this. A peaceful solution, Leon.”

Jordan blinked in surprise. “You would have me welcome the divers who want to kill me back onto my ship?”

“The Hive needs them,” Katrina said. “And it’s not your ship.”

“Hell Divers come and go, but the Hive remains in the sky.”

“We can’t leave them,” Katrina said. “I won’t leave them. I was a Hell Diver, too, or have you forgotten?”

Jordan held back a sharp remark. He had one more card up his sleeve.

“I didn’t want to do this, but there’s something you need to hear, Katrina.” Jordan nodded at Hunt. “Play Weaver’s transmission.”

“The one about Commander Rodriguez?” Hunt asked.

“What!” Katrina said, turning to Hunt. “What about X, Ensign?”

Jordan glared at Hunt from behind Katrina’s back. A glare that promised punishment. The ensign’s slip had just cost him the upper hand. God, why couldn’t he trust anyone to be competent? Why couldn’t anyone just do as they were told?

“What Ensign Hunt meant to say was the message about ITC Communal Thirteen,” Jordan said. “And what they found down there.”

Realizing his mistake, Hunt turned to go back to his station, but Katrina grabbed his arm.

“I asked you a question. What was the message about X?”

Hunt looked over at Jordan. Neither said a word. Monitors beeped and the ventilation system hummed. It was a moment of calm before the tempest that Jordan knew was about to break.

Katrina shattered the silence with an angry shout. “Leon, you are going to tell me what the hell is going on. And you’re going to do it right now!”

Jordan could see the hatred in her eyes. He knew then that he had lost her. There was no lie he could tell now that she would believe. His skull pounded from the pain of the realization.

“Go ahead, Ensign, play it all,” Jordan said. He slowly massaged his temples to relieve the tension headache. “Start with the earliest transmission.”

“Sir?”

“That’s an order!”

Hunt sat at his station and tapped his touch screen. The voice of a dead man filled the bridge. Jordan watched Katrina’s reaction as X reported his position and status over the past ten years. There were dozens of messages as X trekked across the wastelands nearly four miles below.

Jordan expected Katrina to shout again, or maybe even cry, but to his surprise, she remained calm and grimly silent.

“Now play that transmission from Weaver,” Jordan said. Hunt hurried to comply, not daring to meet the captain’s eyes.

“Command, this is Angel One requesting evacuation,” Weaver’s voice said. “The facility is compromised. Apollo One is dead, and there is no sign of survivors here. Rodger and Magnolia might still be alive, so please send help as soon as possible.”

Katrina curled one hand protectively over her belly. “We have to send down another team and help them,” she said, her voice rising to a maddened shout. “We can’t leave them down there like you left X. I won’t do it!”

Jordan shook his head incredulously. “Were you not listening? The divers want to kill me, and there is nothing on the surface for them—or us—but death. Now, I’m the goddamn father of the child growing in your womb, Katrina, and I will not have you harming it by getting hysterical over a handful of traitors. You will calm down, or I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” she snarled. “You don’t get to tell me what to do ever again. I can’t believe I ever loved such a coward.”

The words stabbed Jordan’s fast-beating heart, but his pain quickly turned to anger. Blinded by rage, he turned to Sergeant Jenkins. The old soldier looked back at him uncertainly.

“Sergeant,” Jordan said. He paused, but there was no turning back. He could no longer trust Katrina and there was no gaining back her trust. “Sergeant, escort Lieutenant DaVita to her quarters and post a guard.”

“Yes sir,” Jenkins said. Katrina glared poison at Jordan as the soldier grabbed her upper arm and started half-dragging her from the bridge. She swore at Jenkins and jerked her arm away.

Jordan let out a sigh through his nostrils and released the tension in his jaw. The anger began to subside as he drew in a new breath. He chose to view this as a fresh beginning.

“Ensign, plot a new course to the closest green zone,” Jordan said. “We’re leaving.”

Magnolia led the divers through the utility tunnel. Every movement hurt her shoulder, but she was too full of questions to pay much attention to the pain.

“Why would Jordan keep the fact X is still alive a secret?” she whispered.

“Katrina.” Michael’s one-word reply told the whole story.

Magnolia shook her head. She should have figured that out. Of course Jordan wouldn’t want to rescue X. Katrina had loved the diver once, and anything that threatened the thin-skinned captain was dealt with swiftly—fatally, if necessary.

“I’m going to enjoy plucking his eyeballs out,” she muttered.

“Nope,” Weaver said. “Jordan’s mine.”

“Quiet, or you may not get the chance,” Michael snapped.

Magnolia continued squirming through the narrow passage. Weaver was right behind her, then Layla, Michael, and finally Rodger. She stopped at the next junction and tried to remember Timothy’s directions. The AI couldn’t travel places where there was no power, but she sure wished they had him along now.

“Right,” Rodger said over the comms. “Take a right.”

It was the first time he had spoken since they left the operations room. Jordan’s betrayal had hit him hard. Rodger loved his parents more than anything, and he was nearly frantic to get back to the ship. Magnolia couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have someone waiting for her back up in the sky. She had been alone for a long time.

“Hold on,” Magnolia whispered. She wiped vulture blood off the edge of her visor so she could see around the next corner. The birdlike mutants had put up a decent fight, but the five divers had killed so many of them that she doubted the survivors would be coming out of their burrows for a while. Those things were seriously weird. Next time she had the chance, she would ask Timothy what in God’s name the ITC scientists had been thinking when they mashed up the DNA of so many different species. What had the vultures even evolved from?

A distant screech reverberated through the tunnels, reminding her that the surface creatures’ ancestry didn’t matter—they were all monsters now.

“That’s a Siren,” Weaver whispered.

Magnolia maneuvered onto her stomach and crawled around the corner. She stopped to raise her rifle, searching for a target, but the beam from her helmet showed a clear passage. As soon as she was moving again, the sound of claws on metal raised the hair on the nape of her neck. She wiggled forward using her elbows. The faster she crawled, the worse her shoulder hurt, but fear was rapidly eclipsing the pain.

Another screech rang out ahead. Or was it behind them? She stopped at the next junction and listened.

“I thought you knew where we were going,” Weaver growled.

“Keep going,” Rodger said. “Then take the next left!”

Magnolia followed his instructions—and came face-to-face with a Siren at the next junction. An impossibly wide grin opened across its leathery face, revealing the tips of barbed teeth. It gnashed them together, flattened its dorsal spikes as it clambered toward her.

“Come on,” Weaver said, bumping into her from behind. “What’s the holdup?”

She choked out a cry and fired a burst.

A yelp came from behind her even as she pumped more rounds into the monster.

“Help me!” Rodger screamed. “Somebody!”

More gunfire broke out, filling the duct with deafening noise. The creature in front of her dragged its body forward on a broken limb, blood spurting from holes in its torso. She fired two shots into its head, and it finally collapsed, providing a view of the other end of the passage, and the open window over the hangar.

“Almost there!” Magnolia shouted.

She scooted around to look over her shoulder. Helmet beams were dancing wildly over the passage, capturing a flurry of motion. At the end of the line, Michael was gripping Rodger’s hand. She could just see the claws wrapped around Rodger’s left boot.

“Somebody shoot it!” Michael yelled.

Layla moved her pistol back and forth, trying to get a clear shot, as a second beast emerged and grabbed Rodger’s other leg.

“Shit!” he screamed.

Magnolia lost sight of him in the chaos. By the time she got her light back on their position, Rodger was gone and Michael was crawling off into the darkness. Layla grabbed Michael around the waist and hauled him back.

“Rodger!” Michael shouted.

Screeching voices answered him, and Michael pushed himself to his knees, blocking Magnolia’s view.

“Rodger’s gone!” Layla cried. “We have to get out of here.”

Feeling sick, Magnolia turned back to the hangar. The passage was clear of hostiles, and she squirmed up to the fallen Siren. This time, she stopped to make sure it was dead before crawling over it.

At the opening, she pulled a rope from her cargo pocket. It was actually a collection of lengths from the other divers, knotted together. She fastened one end to the spidery-looking contraption Rodger had rigged up back in the control room. The stake was designed to be placed in dirt, but he had said it would work in just about any material. She jammed it into the metal and deployed the claws that secured it to the wall. After testing it with a yank, she picked up the coil of rope and tossed it through the window. Next, she pulled two extra flares she had snagged from Michael. She struck the ends and tossed them into the room below. By the time she was finished, Weaver, Layla, and Michael had caught up.

“We can’t leave him,” Michael kept saying. “He’s not dead.”

Rodger’s distant shouts confirmed it. Magnolia flinched at each one, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“If we go after him, we all die,” Layla said. “I’m sorry, Tin.”

“We can’t do anything for him up here,” Weaver said. He checked the slack on the rope and pulled it taut. “I’ll go first.”

“No,” Magnolia said. “I got this.”

She grabbed the rope and wriggled through the opening, scanning the cavernous hangar for hostiles. The glow from the flares revealed nothing but the beetle back of their ride out of here. After running the rope under her left thigh, across her body, and over the right shoulder, she jumped out and slid down the thirty feet to the bottom.

As soon as her feet hit the deck, she was sweeping the area with her rifle. She had landed along the western wall, and the airship was in the center of the room.

Weaver came down next, then Layla, and finally Michael. They fanned out, weapons covering every fire zone.

“Looks clear,” Weaver said quietly.

“I don’t see anything,” Layla said.

The divers all turned to the airship, their headlamps sweeping over the hull. Michael flashed an advance signal toward the ship.

“I’ll go turn on the backup power,” Weaver said. “You get to the ship.” He turned to run but hesitated. “Can I borrow someone’s rifle?”

Michael handed Weaver his carbine and two extra magazines.

“Thanks,” Weaver said. “See you in a few.”

Magnolia ran after Layla and Michael toward the ship. Before they reached it, the lights came on. Several of the LEDs flickered, and a few panels remained dark, but there was ample light to cover the room.

Magnolia got her first good look at their new ride, resting on platforms ten feet high. The turbofans and rudders were still covered in plastic. The thing had never seen the sky.

Timothy flickered into existence, nearly scaring the crap out of her. “Welcome to the latest, lightest, fastest member of ITC’s lighter-than-air flee—”

“Save it,” Magnolia said.

“Where’s the door?” Michael asked.

Timothy pointed at the underbelly of the ship. The gray skin cracked open, and a metal gangplank extended.

“You kids fire that thing up,” Weaver said over the comms. “I’ll be right back.”

Magnolia whirled about to see Weaver opening a door on the far side of the room.

“Where are you going?” Michael shouted after him.

“To get Rodger. Everyone else stay here. That’s an order!”