That’s what Timothy is here for, I guess.
“This is their central nervous system,” Layla said, looking at the display.
Les took a seat and examined the layout. The humanoid machines had hard, flexible spines, just like humans, and a network of wires analogous to human veins.
“We built them to look like us,” he said.
“But they aren’t anything like us,” Layla said. “They are programmed for one thing only: killing.”
“Right, which is why we need them.” Michael clicked on the screen to pull up an inside view of the metal-encased brain. “The question is, how do we program them to kill only Cazador soldiers.”
“That’s where Timothy comes in,” Layla said.
“I will program them to destroy only those humans who pose a threat and are carrying weapons.”
“And if some kid picks up a gun?” Michael asked.
“I can stipulate that they don’t target anyone below a certain age group,” Timothy replied, “but there is no guarantee.”
No one spoke until Michael broke the silence by tapping the screen. “The defectors have a supercomputer the size of a fingernail, encased in a titanium-alloy skull. The rest of the endoskeleton is a lab-created hyperalloy metal.”
“That explains why our bullets didn’t do shit at Red Sphere,” Layla said. “Good thing we have the laser rifle.”
“With luck, we won’t need it,” Michael said. He closed his eyes, no doubt feeling another wave of pain in an arm that wasn’t there.
Layla had been by his side the entire time. “You sure you’re up for this?” she asked.
Michael nodded with a slight grimace. “The arm is almost fully healed thanks to the nanotechnology. It’s just these damn phantom pains.” He looked down at the stump, then back to Les and Layla. “You guys ready?”
Layla nodded.
“Ready as I’m going to be,” Les replied. “But I do have a question for Timothy about that EMP bomb. I’m an electrician by trade, so please explain how we’ll be able to bring the machines back online after we fry them.”
“Good question, Lieutenant,” Timothy said. “The exoskeleton protects their interior parts from EMP weapons, but their batteries are vulnerable. Theoretically, the EMP bomb should shut them down, and before restarting them, we will reprogram them.”
“It’s a good plan,” Michael said.
Les wasn’t sure whether Michael was seeking agreement or trying to convince himself. And while Les didn’t like a mission with such a theoretical outcome, he couldn’t see any better options. If the defectors could save human soldiers from going into battle, then so be it.
“Timothy, prepare to drop the EMP bomb on my order,” Michael said. “We’re headed out.”
“Roger, sir. And good luck.”
Michael moved over to the comms station. “All hands, this is Commander Everhart. We are preparing to descend over the target. Please get to your designated stations.”
The three divers left Timothy standing in the center of the bridge. Their first stop was the armory, where they prepared their gear and suited up.
Unlike on other dives, they weren’t sending down any supply crates. Everything they needed was going down attached to them. Most of it was electrical equipment and weapons, although Les doubted that bullets would have any more effect on the defectors than last time, should they encounter any that withstood the EMP blast.
Suiting up took longer than normal, with Layla helping Michael get into his armor. She finished by giving him two painkillers. He swallowed them with a gulp of water.
“I’m good,” Michael said confidently when he saw Les scrutinizing him.
The commander tucked his ponytail into the back of his armor, grabbed his bag, and led them back into the passageway to the cargo bay. Timothy’s white glow illuminated the dim space.
“The most recent weather scan has revealed only a slight electrical disturbance in the drop zone,” he said. “In other words, we should be fine to descend.”
Famous last words, Les thought. He walked through the hatch of the cargo bay, recalling the time Timothy had malfunctioned here upon seeing his dead family.
The memory only added to Les’ anxiety, and he hesitated as he approached the launch bay doors. Michael and Layla were already there, waiting with their gear bags on the platform.
Les slung his carbine over his shoulder and carried his packs out.
You dive so your family survives, he reminded himself.
“System checks,” Michael said.
“Raptor Two online,” Layla replied.
Les checked his HUD and systems one last time. “Raptor Four online.”
Timothy joined the divers by the door and looked down at the lift gate they were standing on. His shape flickered, and for a second Les tensed up, worried that Timothy might have another episode.
The AI’s form solidified, and he pulled at the cuffs of his suit jacket. “The EMP bomb is prepped and ready to drop, Commander.”
“Execute,” Michael replied.
A distant clank sounded, but no explosion or blast followed—only the dull vibration of the ship’s engines under their boots.
“How long until we know if it worked?” Layla asked.
“Only a few minutes for my infrared sensors to scan,” Timothy said.
“Weren’t these models designed with stealth technology aimed at reducing infrared signatures?” Michael asked.
“Good question, Commander. And yes, they were, but I’ve reprogrammed the sensors on Deliverance to look for the faint exhaust plume that the battery on the DEF-Nine units produces. It’s one of their only flaws.”
It didn’t sound foolproof to Les, but it did make him feel a little better.
They waited in silence, listening to the hum of mechanical systems and the distant roll of thunder. As Les stood there, a memory from his last trip to Red Sphere surfaced, but he pushed it aside.
“I’m detecting a complete blackout on and below the surface of Red Sphere,” Timothy said. “The EMP bomb successfully fried the grid and shut down the defectors. There is no trace of an exhaust plume from any of my scans, which means the machines still down there are, as you say, toast.”
“You’re sure?” Layla asked.
“One hundred percent positive. However, if it makes you feel better, I will scan one more time once we descend to the piers.”
“Okay, take us down,” Michael said.
The three divers moved over to the bulkhead, where they secured their gear bags and strapped into the bucket seats.
For the next few minutes, Les watched the porthole windows. Lightning traced the skyline, leaving behind its residual blue image on his retinas. The deck groaned as they lowered over Red Sphere. Les watched their altitude tick down and down.
At a thousand feet, Timothy held the ship steady. “Performing a final infrared scan,” he said.
Les flinched as light flashed outside the cargo bay. Thunder followed, easing his fears of a bolt from a laser rifle.
“All clear, Commander Everhart,” Timothy said.
Michael unclicked his harness, and Layla helped him sling his backpack. They cradled their weapons and moved over to the cargo bay door. It clanked open, revealing black clouds and a dark ocean.
Les stepped up to the ledge and looked at the piers surrounding Red Sphere. Several ships remained docked. Debris from an explosion surrounded the central structure.
Deliverance continued to lower over the landing zone. The draft of air from the turbofans hit the concrete docks, whipping up dust and debris. Les stepped closer to the edge, feeling a lead weight in his gut.
Layla grabbed his armor and pulled him back.
“Easy there, Lieutenant,” she said over the comms.
He stepped back to look at the derelict concrete, che
cking the green field of his night vision for movement. The front of the facility had collapsed, scattering chunks of concrete out across one of the piers.
They would have to find another way in.
“Extending the platform,” Timothy said. “Please proceed with caution.”
Les walked down the ramp with an injured, overzealous Hell Diver; a woman young enough be his daughter; and an AI that had gone crazy at least once. Their mission: to infiltrate a dark facility that housed killer machines, and then reprogram those machines to kill Cazadores.
What could possibly go wrong?
TEN
Magnolia woke to the sound of laughter in the hallway outside her room. For the past three hours, she had tossed and turned. But it wasn’t the feather-stuffed mattress or warm air that kept her from dozing off. She couldn’t stop thinking about X and Rodger.
Where had the Cazadores taken them?
Moonlight streamed in through the open windows, and the shutters clicked in the breeze. The noise irritated her. She swung her feet over the side of the bed and walked across the cold floor for a look outside.
Even at this late hour, several people were lounging out on their balconies. A man in an immaculate dark suit, and a woman in a thin black dress sat on metal chairs drinking and smoking brown sticks.
Magnolia remembered them as cigarettes from old films and books. The smoke sticks, as her people called them, were outlawed on the airships due to the risk of fire, but it didn’t surprise her that they would have them here. It also meant they grew tobacco somewhere on their many farms. The Cazadores had the resources to keep many old-world traditions.
She gazed at the sky and breathed in the sweet-smelling smoke. The starry dome ended in the distance, where the storm clouds still raged. The view made her wonder how electrical storms worked and why they didn’t pass over this area. It also made her wonder whether more places like this existed out there. If anyone knew, it would be the Imulah. But for now, she would keep the questions to herself.
After shutting the windows, she walked back over to the side table and poured a glass of water. The laughter she heard a few minutes earlier had ceased, replaced by approaching footfalls.
Magnolia quickly made her way back into bed. She pulled the blanket up to her neck and turned toward the wall. A key turned, the lock clicked, and the door opened.
“Magnolia,” said a familiar voice.
She turned to see Rodger standing in the doorway.
“Rodge?” she said, sitting up slowly.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, holding out his arms.
She rushed to embrace him, careful not to squeeze too hard. Having her arms wrapped around the friend she had thought dead nearly broke her, and she choked up at his warm touch.
“How … how did you get here?” she asked.
Pulling away, he interlaced his fingers with hers. “I don’t have a lot of time, Mags, but there’s something we have to do.”
For a fleeting second, she thought this was it: their chance to escape.
“Something you have to do, rather,” Rodger said.
“Anything,” Magnolia said. “I just hope you know I thought you were dead …”
He let go with one hand and held it to her face, running his fingers over her cheek. “I believe you. X already explained.”
She hugged him again. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, Mags.”
She pulled back and searched his eyes. “So what can I do? Anything, Rodge, just tell me. I’m ready to fight. Ready to escape.”
Rodger seemed disappointed at her enthusiasm. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “We can’t. You can’t. You have to marry el Pulpo.”
She pulled away from his grip. “What!”
Rodger moved forward, but she backed away again, her legs hitting the bed frame. The moonlight accentuated his features, and her heart melted at the broken man standing in the glow.
This was no longer the jokester, strong Hell Diver, and talented woodsmith in front of her. He was a shell of his former self: bearded, gaunt, with bags rimming his dark eyes.
“What have they done to you, Rodger?” she said softly.
“They saved my life, and now I’m going to save yours.”
Magnolia narrowed her gaze. The old Rodger would never have said that. The old Rodger loved his family, loved the Hive, and had loved her.
Or so she thought.
“El Pulpo killed you, then brought you back so you could be a slave,” Magnolia said. “I’d rather die than marry that monster.”
“Mags, you’re not listening to me,” Rodger said. “You have no choice.”
She froze when she glimpsed a figure in the hallway. Imulah stood in the shadows, hands clasped behind his back, watching.
Now she understood. Rodger hadn’t sneaked here on his own; he was escorted by the scribe, to persuade her to stop being such a hostile bitch.
I’ll never stop being hostile, or a bitch, especially to that asshole el Pulpo.
“Please, Mags,” Rodger pleaded, grabbing her by the arm. “They’ll kill you—and me, and Miles, and—”
She yanked free of his weak grip. “X is out there,” she growled, “right now, fighting for me, and …” She tapped Rodger on the chest with her finger. “He will never give up, and we can’t, either.”
“It doesn’t matter. He can’t save us. Chances are, where he’s going, he won’t even be able to save himself.”
She moved away from the bed, closer to him. “What do you mean?”
Rodger glanced over his shoulder at Imulah, who finally entered the room.
“He means X is on a mission that he probably won’t come back from,” Imulah said. “Many soldiers will die, but those who return will be hailed and glorified in the halls of the Octopus Lords.”
Magnolia almost rolled her eyes. Halls of the Octopus Lords? Please.
“You still don’t know X like I do,” she said. “That’s fine, though; I’d rather you underestimate him.”
“We underestimate nothing,” Imulah said. “You may think he will free you or that the sky gods will come and save you, but if they do come, we will destroy them, as we did the others.”
Rodger looked at the floor.
“What do you mean, the others?” Magnolia asked.
Imulah made his way over to the window and stuck his head outside. He looked up, and suddenly Magnolia understood. She joined him there and felt a chill at the sight of the airship above them—the location of the Sky Arena.
“You weren’t the first that found us,” Imulah said. “And you probably won’t be the last. We knew about the Hive and Ares for many years. We listened to your transmissions, but we never responded. But now you see what happens to those who try to take this place from el Pulpo.”
Magnolia stepped away from the window, suddenly feeling that she was going to be sick. The journey here on the Sea Wolf was supposed to save her people. It was supposed to be a fresh start—a place where humanity could rebuild and live in peace without the fear of crashing to a poisoned earth.
But when they set off for the Metal Islands, they had no idea what kind of evil dwelled here. Maybe X had, but Magnolia had expected only some pirate ships.
Now she knew the truth.
While humanity had continued to advance in the sky, on the surface it seemed to have devolved, back to a more primitive state. Where the sword ruled over the law. Where violence and pain were glorified, and the people worshipped a sea creature.
Imulah moved closer. “Magnolia, I’ve told you many times, but you don’t listen, so I thought I would bring Rodger to talk some sense into you. Time is running out for you to get your mind in the right place.”
“Time is always running out,” Magnolia replied. “I’m used to the feeling, and you can’t scare me with threats, in c
ase you haven’t figured that out already.”
Imulah raised a hand and pinched his fingers together, then opened them as if he were dropping something on the ground. “The sands of time have almost run out. Tomorrow night, you will be dining with el Pulpo in the gardens, and I fear he will lose patience with your strong spirit and no longer be enamored of it.”
The old scribe stepped between Rodger and Magnolia.
“El Pulpo has enjoyed your presence thus far. Make sure that lasts, for your sake and your friends’.” He patted Rodger on the shoulder and turned to leave. “And don’t forget about that dog. I’ve heard el Pulpo mention how delicious he looks.”
She glared at Imulah’s robed back, holding back what she really wanted to say. Before she could react, Rodger leaned forward and hugged her. She didn’t embrace him, but she did hear what he whispered in her ear when Imulah moved away with his back to them.
“I haven’t given up, Mags, but you have to play the game like me, so when we do get a chance, we can escape.”
Then he was gone. The door locked with a click that echoed through the empty room. Magnolia slumped on the bed, heart thumping and a tear racing down her cheek.
* * * * *
The rain had stopped, but the open cargo bay of the USS Zion was still slick. Interior lights shone on a fallen Hell Diver. The body of Jed Snow was wrapped in white blankets and chains to take him down once they pushed him over the side to his final resting place.
The ship rocked gently in the rough water. They had anchored here for three days, within view of another island. Unlike the mountainous place where Jed died, this landmass was mostly flat, and while there seemed to be some flora, most of the terrain appeared to consist of black rock. For this was a relatively new island in geological terms, born of a volcano beneath the sea. Near one end, a red ribbon of lava glowed.
Katrina had watched in awe for the past two days, seeing Mother Nature at its most primordial for the first time in her life. When she wasn’t looking out over the awesome sight, she was planning for the rendezvous at the Metal Islands and getting the weapons in operational shape.
In two days, they would meet the airships at their new home. First, though, Michael, Les, and Layla had to complete their mission at Red Sphere, and Katrina was starting to get anxious for news. She brought up the wrist computer that allowed her to stay connected to the command center of the USS Zion and receive any incoming transmissions.
Hell Divers V: Captives Page 12