“I’d like to say something,” Michael said.
Les handed him the microphone. Static crackled over the speakers.
“We dive so humanity survives, and now we’re asking you to fight under one banner to free our friends and to make the Metal Islands our home,” Michael said.
He gritted his teeth, clearly in pain.
Layla reached out, but Michael shook his head. “I’m not done.”
She pulled back, and he said, “No one has endured more pain and suffering over the years than X. After saving the Hive over a decade ago, he was left for dead by the tyrant Leon Jordan, even when Jordan knew he was down there, and forced to endure severe hardship on the poisoned surface for years and years. When we finally found X in Florida, he was a broken man. But he did not give up. He took to the seas, and he found the Metal Islands.”
Michael paused again. “In Florida, I thought we were rescuing him, but he was really rescuing us. Now we have a chance to actually rescue X. To thank him for his service and sacrifices. I know that fighting in a war is a terrifying thing, but I’ll be there on the front lines, and I hope some of you will join me.”
He handed the microphone back to Les. Les squinted to make out two more people who had slipped into the back of the room. His heart leaped when he saw that it was Katherine and Phyl. They stood near the open doors, keeping back as if they were afraid.
“Lieutenant,” Layla said.
“Thank you, Commander Everhart,” Les said, snapping out of it and grabbing the sides of the lectern. “For those of you who are willing and able, we will have a briefing in the launch bay after this, to talk about the fight ahead.”
Sloan motioned with her baton. “Step forward if you’re volunteering.”
At first, the entire room remained silent. The baby had even stopped crying. What felt like a minute passed before the first person stepped forward.
“These are the people who killed my boy?” said Cole Mintel.
Les nodded.
“I’m not much for fighting, but I can hold my own,” Cole said.
“I’m in,” said Marv. He grinned. “I’m getting sick of serving shine to all you drunks anyways.”
Several nervous chuckles followed. A few more people stepped over to join the two men. Hushed conversations came from all directions, and the crowd began to move. Within a few minutes, fifty people had clustered at the front of the room.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Michael leaned over to Les as Sloan began organizing the group.
“I’ve got an idea, Lieutenant,” Michael said. “One that might not require so many of these people to put their lives on the line if we do go to war.”
Les gave him a searching look. “What do you mean?”
Michael motioned for Timothy.
“We go back to Red Sphere. Get more laser rifles and hack some of the defectors to help us take over the Metal Islands.”
Les scrutinized Michael’s face, looking for the joke, but the injured diver, who had lost a freaking arm at the facility, looked deadly serious.
“I’ll lead the mission,” Michael said. “Got some unfinished business there.”
“I need that damage assessment, Eevi,” Katrina said.
“Working on it, Captain.” The former militia detective sat at a station, tapping at her keyboard.
Katrina knew she was being demanding, but she was anxious, and the way to keep things moving was to keep on her people. She needed them as sharp as a sword edge. There was some good news, though. Jaideep was going to be okay. He had a concussion and wouldn’t be fighting anytime soon, but it beat a broken neck.
She tapped her monitor for a frontal view of the ocean. The water was deep here, assuming the readings were correct. But the island wasn’t far away, and until she was sure of her instruments, she couldn’t risk hitting a shoal.
The electrical storm continued to rage around them, scrambling all transmissions in or out. It was also messing with their equipment. Every life scan they had run on the island came back inconclusive.
“Jed, Sandy, have you figured out where we are yet?” Katrina asked.
The two teenagers looked up from the paper maps they had found stored in an officer’s quarters. Since GPS wasn’t working, Katrina had them try to figure things out the old-fashioned way.
“My best guess is, we’re somewhere between the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico,” Jed said.
“If that’s the case, then how far are we from the Virgin Islands?” Katrina asked.
“Somewhere around a hundred miles,” Sandy said.
Not very far. And they were out of the worst of the storm. For now.
The rain kept coming down in sheets, hammering the shutters. Katrina had lowered one and leaned over to look out the cracked panel—the only panel to survive the rogue wave. All the rest had blown out, leaving dangerous shards in the standing water on deck.
“Okay, looks like we got it,” Eevi said, smiling in the glow of her monitor as she scanned the data. “The hull breach was limited to the bow—only two compartments flooded. Nothing serious, Captain.”
“Power levels?” Katrina asked.
Eevi checked her monitor and said, “The new fuel cell we brought from Deliverance is still at ninety-eight percent, engines functioning at optimal levels.”
“Good news,” Katrina said. “Eevi, you have the bridge. Jed, Sandy, keep trying to figure out where we are. I’m heading topside.”
The Hell Divers all went back to work.
A sharp sword, Katrina thought.
Katrina cautiously made her way through the broken glass and water to a ladder leading to the command center for flight operations. The rectangular windows gave her a view of the deck, the ocean, and the island.
She brought the binoculars up to her eyes and zoomed in, using the night vision to scan for hostiles. The bio scanners may not be working, but her eyes wouldn’t lie.
The island definitely had flora. Beyond the rocky beaches, mutant jungles the color of blood and bruises covered the terrain. Surely there was some sort of fauna out there, but so far, they hadn’t spotted anything.
Now that they had confirmed the ship was still seaworthy, she just had to wait until Sandy and Jed figured out which direction to sail.
Several more sweeps yielded nothing except for the stone foundation and walls of an old building along the shore. Vines had overtaken the walls and brought the roof down.
Farther down the beach, debris that looked like the remains of a ship caught her attention, and she zoomed in to find a barnacle-encrusted hull that could be as old as the Hive. Nothing she saw suggested recent human activity.
There were no Cazadores in this area.
She panned the binos over the Zion’s deck and spotted Alexander, working on the enclosed turret of the MK-65. Trey, with a rifle, was at the stern.
A voice called up from the ladder below.
“Captain, we’re getting a transmission,” Eevi said. “You better hear this.”
Katrina hurried down to the bridge, where the comm system crackled with static and a voice.
“Does anyone… copy?” said a familiar voice.
She picked up the receiver. “This is Captain DaVita. Who am I speaking to?”
“Timothy Pepper.”
Samson must have decided to bring him back on.
“Good to hear from you, Timothy. Where is Lieutenant Mitchells? I need to talk to him.”
“I’m not sure where he is, Captain.”
“What do you mean?”
“Captain, this is Timothy Pepper of the Sea Wolf.”
Katrina almost dropped the receiver.
“The Sea Wolf has been relocated under the capitol tower of the Metal Islands, where X, Mags, and Miles are being held captive,” Timothy said. “This is my fir—”