Hell Divers

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  Professor Lana stepped into the hall, let out a weary sigh, and waved the kids in.

  “Class started two minutes ago,” she said. Her scowl deepened, accentuating every wrinkle in her face. “Now, come on,” she said. “We have things to learn today.”

  The other kids laughed derisively. Tin had heard them call her a witch and worse in hushed voices. But she wasn’t so bad. She had always treated him fairly. She winked at him as he sneaked past Layla and Andrew. Hurrying into the room, he slid into his chair and put his hat back on.

  Layla came in a second later. She took a seat beside him, and Tin spoke for the first time in days.

  “Thanks,” he whispered.

  * * * * *

  Commander Weaver jerked awake in a snowbank that had drifted up against one of the domed concrete warehouses. The densely packed snow had likely saved his life.

  He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his temples. When his vision finally cleared, he saw the wall of snow rolling west, crossing into the frozen waste beyond the city.

  Then he remembered Jones.

  Weaver pulled his arm out of the snow and found the rope end knotted to his belt. He gave it a tug.

  “Jones!” Weaver shouted over the comm.

  No response. He wriggled free of the snowbank and slid down to the ground, his boots sinking into powder that came up to his ankles.

  “Jones! Can you hear me?”

  A voice, half drowned out by static, crackled over the channel. The prayer Jones was mumbling into the comm sounded like the same one he had whispered back in the warehouse.

  “Where are you?” Weaver shouted.

  “I don’t know. I can’t see anything,” Jones finally said. “I’m …” He paused. “I’m stuck.”

  Weaver checked the minimap on his HUD. The beacon put Jones only a few hundred feet south of the warehouses. He brushed off his suit to check that nothing was broken, then looked at his minicomputer. All systems were functioning, but his battery level was dropping. Without power, he would eventually freeze.

  The thought prompted a surge of adrenaline that made him forget his headache. He worked his way through the deep snowdrifts, his boots sinking deeper with every step. Within minutes, he was knee-deep. He pushed ahead until the drifts were almost up to his crotch.

  “I can’t fucking move!” Jones yelled. “Help me!”

  Weaver paused to catch his breath. “I’m coming. Just hold on.” Between breaths, he glimpsed motion in the dark sky. For a moment, he thought he saw something with wings, but a lightning flash revealed an empty horizon. He pushed on, plowing ahead into the drifts. Each stride was harder than the last, and the fresh powder seemed denser, hardening around him like concrete.

  Frantic now, he used his arms to clear some of the pack in front of him. He could see the tip of Jones’ green helmet. Fighting through the last few feet, he finally closed the gap.

  Weaver dug around Jones’ helmet, then freed his arms and chest. Now with Jones helping clear the pack, they eventually got him standing.

  Weaver looked him up and down. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  Weaver twisted around in the snow to look at the dozens of domed warehouses. Somewhere among those concrete beehives were the fuel cells and pressure valves they needed. He noted the location of the crate on his HUD. It was close—less than a quarter mile away. But with the buildings closer, he decided to abandon the heavy weapons for now and go straight for the goods.

  “Let’s go,” Weaver said. Working his way back the way he had come, he stopped at the first dome. “We need to split up,” he said. “Keep radio contact and let me know if you find anything.”

  Jones nodded and shook off a layer of snow. “Good luck, sir.”

  As Weaver turned to run, a faint sound caught his ear. The distant high-pitched screech was unmistakable. But this wasn’t coming from the ground. It was coming from the sky.

  “Wait,” Weaver said.

  Both men scanned the clouds.

  “You think someone’s really listening to all those prayers?” Weaver asked.

  Jones nodded. “Absolutely, sir.”

  “Good. Do me a favor and say one for us and the ship.”

  * * * * *

  X stood in the training bay, directly over the white arrow symbol of the Hell Divers. He had a notepad in his hand. He had seen each of the three divers standing in front of him, but he knew little about them. The teams trained independently from one another. They all shared the same facility, but there wasn’t a lot of mingling—not during training, anyway.

  Jordan had plucked members from Team Apollo and Team Angel, just as X had expected. He looked them over without saying a word. On the left was Magnolia Katib. She wore a black jumpsuit and, over that, a gray coat held together by chains. Half his age, probably only twenty-one or twenty-two, she had shoulder-length black hair streaked with blue highlights. Her thin lips were coated in purple lipstick, and her electric-blue eyes were rimmed in heavy dark liner. The makeup was black market—expensive and hard to get hold of. Her vibe gave him the creeps.

  Reaching into her coat, she pulled out a metallic pin and twirled it between her fingers. “You’re freaking me out mister. You gonna say something, or what?”

  “Shit, and here I was sorta thinking the same thing about you,” X said. He glanced down at his notepad and skimmed the file that he had already memorized. “Says you’re a thief. You can sneak in and out of places. And you’re good with electronics.”

  She cracked a grin. “Yeah, that’s right. Why—got a blown diode?”

  “Let me guess: it was either this or the inside of a prison cell.”

  X didn’t wait for her response. As the woman’s cocky grin withered, he moved on to Clint Murphy. The engineer was a head shorter than she, but his outfit was every bit as striking. A pair of crimson goggles hugged his receding hairline. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning the room, reminding X of a jonesing stim addict. Nice. Command had given him a thief and an anxiety case.

  “You’re an engineer, Clint?”

  “Y-yes sir. That’s r-right.” He repositioned his goggles and scratched his thin, curly hair. “People call me Murph.”

  X turned to Sam Barker. The third diver, at least, held some promise. Dark-skinned and muscular, he stood ramrod straight even at parade rest. He had rolled up the sleeves of his skintight gray shirt to show the Militia shield tattoos on both biceps.

  Sam stared ahead, his gaze unwavering. He was a soldier, through and through.

  “Says in your file you were instrumental in quelling the riots a few years back.”

  Sam dipped his chin. “I was in the first wave into the farms.”

  X knew what that meant. The man had seen people die. He would fit right in on Team Raptor. The others were going to take some work. X had his task cut out for him.

  “Welcome to Raptor,” X said in the sincerest tone he could muster. Tucking his notepad back in a cargo pocket, he waved the group toward the wind cylinders in the center of the room. When he got there, he propped his shoulder against the glass. He looked at his new team in turn and said, “How many dives you got under your belts?”

  “Seventeen,” Magnolia said in a proud voice.

  She had attitude to spare … like Rhonda. For a moment, he saw her superimposed there, staring defiantly back at him the way she had done so many times after one of their arguments. He blinked away the memories and looked to the engineer.

  “Fourteen,” Murph said.

  “Ten, sir,” said Sam.

  X had more than twice as many dives as the three of them combined. He had to remind himself that this wasn’t unusual. Will and Rodney had been in the same position as the divers standing in front of him. Indeed, Aaron was the only diver on the Hive who had even come close to the number of jumps X had complet
ed.

  Murph took a half step forward. “Commander?”

  X glanced up from his notepad. “What?”

  “I just wanted to say I’m sorry to hear about your team. I want you to know I’m glad to be here.”

  X nodded and glanced at Magnolia, catching her in a smirk. She flicked her hair out of her face and started spinning her toy again.

  “What the fuck is that?” X asked. He snatched it from her hand.

  “It’s a lock pick, man.” She held out her hand. “And it’s mine.”

  He clenched his jaw. “Magnolia, you have three choices. You can call me ‘X,’ ‘Commander X,’ or ‘sir.’ I don’t much give a shit which one, but that’s it. Got it?

  She nodded, and he dropped the instrument back in her palm.

  “How many dives have you made, sir?” Sam asked.

  “Ninety-six. Now, do you suppose that’s all luck?”

  Murph raised a hand.

  “It was a rhetorical question,” X said. “I have survived because I learned from my mistakes and the mistakes of others. Hell Divers are rarely afforded that luxury. You all have an advantage: you get to learn what not to do before you saddle up in the launch bay again. I don’t know what you learned on your other teams, and again, I don’t much care. Because you’re going to learn my way of doing things.”

  X gave this a moment to sink in and then said, “Diving requires more than courage. You have to bury your fear and realize there is more to life than your own survival. We dive for humanity. So get those selfish thoughts out of your mind,” he said, holding Magnolia’s gaze an extra beat.

  She rolled her eyes.

  X almost rose to the bait, then stopped himself. “Listen up, everyone. I’m here to train you and keep you alive when the time comes.”

  “Like you did your old team?” Magnolia muttered.

  “Excuse me,” X said. “What did you say?”

  Magnolia tipped her head back, uncertainty in her wide eyes. “I said you couldn’t keep your old team alive.”

  “Captain Ash dropped us into a fucking electrical storm,” X said. “My team was dead before they ever got to the surface.”

  Magnolia nodded and took a step backward. “I’m sorry.”

  X doubted it. But at least, he knew where he stood with his new team. They had about as much confidence in him as he had in them. And why should they feel any differently? They were replacing men he couldn’t save.

  “I don’t expect you to trust me,” X said. “But I do expect you to listen—”

  A voice over his shoulder cut him off. “Commander X!”

  He turned to see Lieutenant Jordan, flanked by two Militia soldiers, coming across the room.

  “Commander X,” Jordan repeated, stopping a few feet from him. He seemed uncharacteristically agitated. “Captain Ash would like to see you.”

  X reached for his earpiece and realized he had left it in his locker. “I’m almost done here,” he replied.

  “She needs to see you now,” Jordan insisted.

  X could read the urgency in Jordan’s eyes, and he doubted it was some half-assed rumor of civil unrest. The captain didn’t want to talk about a food shortage or a problem with the ship. This was about Hades.

  * * * * *

  Captain Ash stood with her back to the wall, studying the two Hell Diver team leads seated at the command table. Cruise, of Team Apollo, sat tapping his finger on the white table. He had big shoulders, a shaved head, and the air of a man you didn’t want to keep waiting.

  To his right sat Tony, Team Angel’s lead.

  At the knock on the door, the captain stopped massaging her neck as X and Jordan entered.

  “Sorry we’re late,” Jordan said. “Commander X wasn’t wearing his headset.”

  X nodded. “I was too busy figuring out what to do with the sorry excuses for divers you guys assigned to my team.”

  “Sam and Murph are okay,” Tony said.

  “Magnolia can be a pain, no doubt about it,” Cruise added. “She is a criminal, after all. But she ain’t all bad.”

  Ash stepped to the table and gestured for the two new arrivals to take a seat. She could feel all eyes follow her as she sat at the head of the table. She had earned their respect over the years, but with it came responsibility.

  “A day ago, we received a distress call from Ares. Captain Willis sent coordinates from a location directly over Hades.”

  She saw the sudden tautness on the faces before her. Cruise shifted nervously in his chair. It was the first time Ash had ever seen him show any sign of apprehension.

  “What the hell are they doing there?” Cruise asked.

  Ash reached forward and activated the table’s built-in console. The SOS video from Ares emerged on the individual screens in front of the divers. She waited for them to digest the information.

  “Willis is a bigger fool than I thought,” Cruise said. “He would’ve been better off trying to make it to another location than attempting a dive over Hades.”

  Ash took a deep breath and said, “Whatever desperation drove him to attempt a dive at Hades doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that we help them.”

  Cruise muttered something profane. “You have got to be kidding me. We can’t risk our ship for theirs. They made their decision, they have to live with it.”

  “Team Raptor has just provided us with enough nuclear fuel cells to keep us in the air for years,” Ash said. “We have the juice to get to Hades—”

  Cruise cut her off. “And X’s men paid the full price to make sure we don’t end up in the same position as Ares. I can’t believe you would risk that!”

  Before Ash could respond, X rose from his seat and loomed over Cruise. “Excuse me, Commander, but your superior officer was speaking. I’m with Captain Ash on this. If we have the ability to aid Ares, then why not do it? If we get to Hades and can’t provide support, then we pull back.”

  Cruise snorted. “Am I the only one that thinks this is a crazy idea? Tony? Jordan?”

  No one spoke, and X sat back down. Ash let Cruise fidget for a moment. It was the best way to defuse the situation. Dressing him down in front of the other team leaders would only infuriate him more.

  “God only knows what’s down there,” Cruise said under his breath.

  “God isn’t the only one,” Ash replied. She punched in another command. “We received another transmission about an hour ago. Only a chunk came through.”

  After entering in her credentials, she pulled up the confidential file. Static crackled from the PA system. Ash crossed her arms across her chest and listened to the message for the fourth time.

  “Commander, I just reached the second warehouse. Shit, this place is a fucking gold mine, sir! There’s got to be hundreds of cases of fuel cells!”

  “What about the pressure valves?”

  “Still searching.”

  “Stand by, Jones. I’m on my way.”

  The audio cut in and out, only to return a few seconds later.

  “Our father in heaven, hallowed be your name …” [Static.] “Forgive us our debts …” [Static.] “And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

  “What the hell is he yammering about?” Cruise asked.

  “Lord’s Prayer,” Tony replied. “My mom used to recite it when I was a kid.” He flinched at the sound of gunfire that followed the words.

  “Commander …” Hiss of static. “The Sirens—they’re inside!”

  “Get out of there, Jones!”

  There was a flurry of gunshots, followed by a piercing screech. The sound sent a chill through Ash. She recalled her conversation with X. Were these the same creatures he had stumbled onto?

  “Jones, come in. Jones, where are you?”

  White noise.

  “Oh, Jesus! They�
�re coming!”

  Labored breathing broke over the channel, then the crack of more gunshots.

  “Jones, do you copy? Where are you? Where the hell are you?”

  A throaty gurgle came next, then a barely decipherable answer. Ash could make out only three syllables. It sounded like “God help me.”

  A high-pitched screech—a sound that could not have come from human vocal cords—ended the transmission.

  For several minutes, the three divers sat in silence. Ash studied them one by one and stopped on X. His features were tight, his jaw clenched, as if he was trying to forget a nightmare.

  “Those sounds were familiar, weren’t they?” she asked.

  X nodded. “Yes, Captain. The things they are calling ‘Sirens’ sound exactly like the creatures I encountered on my last dive.”

  Cruise twisted in his chair to glare at X. “You saw something down there and didn’t tell us?”

  Ash intervened. “He told me, and now we’re telling you.”

  “Excellent,” Cruise replied. He put his hands behind his shaved head and leaned back in his chair. “Am I always the last one to hear about stuff that could get us killed?”

  Ash resisted the urge to take Cruise down a peg in front of his peers.

  “We don’t know the status of Ares, but we’re going to find out in …” She looked down at her wristwatch. “In five hours. Oh, and, gentleman, you’d better get your teams ready just in case we have to mount a rescue operation.”

  Cruise stood, and his eyes flitted from X to Captain Ash. “You’re going to get us all killed.”

  “Dismissed,” Jordan said sternly.

  Cruise stalked out of the room. Tony and X followed him out, but X paused in the doorway. “Wait for me to tell my new divers,” he shouted after Cruise and Tony. Then he turned and met Ash’s gaze.

  “Captain,” he said, “I hope you got a plan when we get to Hades, because after seeing what I saw down there—those things, the Sirens—chances are, Captain Willis’ divers are already dead.”

  EIGHT