“That’s why I’m requesting to take Discovery, sir,” Les said. “We have to eradicate the threat before they also find us.”
Everyone stared at Les in surprise.
“If there are survivors, I’ll bring them back here,” Les said. “And if there are defectors, I want to be the one to destroy them.”
“Discovery is grounded, Captain,” X replied.
“Please, X,” Les said. “Don’t make me beg. Let me take the airship and avenge my son.”
“I’ll think on it,” X said. “In the meantime, Commander Everhart, get your divers ready.”
“For what?” Michael asked.
“We’re doing another training run, but this time it’s going to be outside the barriers, in the storms.”
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.