“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, checking 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.”