Silence settled over the divers. Even Timothy remained quiet. He unfolded his arms and let them hang, as if he didn’t know what to do with them.
“Is there anything else?” Layla asked. “Do we know who this guy is?”
Les put his machine gun in the other hand. “How about where the defectors are?”
Timothy scratched his meticulously trimmed jawline. “One moment, please.”
The tablet screen glowed again, and this time a video came online of one of the defectors dragging a man into the lab by his shredded legs. Blood streaked across the trail behind them.
He squirmed and screamed in the machine’s grip. “Stop, please! I beg you! I will destroy all my research. I promise!”
The orange visor of the defector dragging the man flashed.
“So is that Dr. Diaz?” Layla asked, leaning closer to the tablet.
Another machine reached down and grabbed the man by the arm, helping the first one lift him onto a table.
“This was recorded in the same lab we’re in now,” Timothy said.
The video feed moved over a row of tables beside Julio. A woman lay on her back, her features erased by a gaping hole in her face.
“That must be what’s left of Dana,” Michael said.
“So Julio never escaped after diving into the ocean,” Les said.
Before anyone could answer, a recorded scream made the three of them start.
The two defectors raised their long arms, their exoskeletons opened, and mechanical saws extended. The blades came to life, the whine rising over the doctor’s screams as they lowered to his flesh.
The machines started on his legs and then worked their way up to remove his arms, each time searing the wound to stem the blood loss.
He was still conscious when they moved to his head, but Les had to look away when they started on his chest. The grotesque scene was too much even for him.
As the surgery scene played on the tablet, the man on the table in front of the Hell Divers began to quiver. His body convulsed, and the robotic limbs rattled against their metal restraints.
Les went to get morphine from the medical pack. They had to get him sedated again. Apparently, the memory was stirring this man awake.
But why? Unless…
“Holy shit,” Les gasped. “Is this guy Dr. Diaz?”
The thin, wrinkled lips of the man on the table opened. “No,” he croaked. “No, stop. Ple-e-e-e-ease!”
“Unplug those cords,” Michael said to Layla. She quickly pulled the sensor nodes away from the head, but it was already too late. The man-machine broke one of his restraints with ease. The eyelids snapped open, both the human eye and the mechanical one homing in on Les. The freed metal arm reached toward him, and Les jumped back just before the robotic fingers could grab his wrist.
The divers all backed away as the hybrid doctor snapped all the other restraints. It sat up and tilted its wrinkled face at them. Layla reached out to grab the electrical cords, but the hybrid was faster. He smacked her with his robotic arm, knocking her backward into a table.
Michael fired a laser bolt at the machine as it moved. The blue flash took off its right arm at the shoulder. Les aimed his rifle at the head and fired a burst that missed, punching into the wall.
The hybrid got up on all fours, directing its gaze at Les. But this wasn’t the same soulless gaze he had seen in the other machines. Part of Dr. Julio Diaz was in there—the same part that had begged the divers to destroy him when they found him in the stasis chamber.
Michael squeezed off another bolt, this one sizzling through the chest and bringing the hybrid to the ground, where it landed on its back, twitching.
“Hold your fire,” Michael said to Les. He looked over at Layla. “You okay?”
She was already getting back up but had her hand on her belly. “I… I think so.”
Timothy held up a hand to stop Michael from shooting again. “We still don’t know where the defectors are,” he said. “Before you destroy Dr. Diaz, perhaps we should ask him.”
Michael kept the laser rifle aimed at the downed machine. Its chest smoked and sparked, and blood leaked from the shoulder of the severed arm. The hybrid continued twitching. “Defectors…” it said in a cracking voice.
Timothy bent down and said, “Doctor, please tell us where the DEF-Nine units are.”
The hybrid rotated his head toward the AI. “Gone. They left after an… attack… There is only one left now.”
The words chilled Les, but they didn’t stop him from stepping closer to the hybrid. “Where did they go?”
The hybrid looked up at him. “Intercepted a… signal, but I do not know their destination.” The wrinkled forehead creased in anguish. “Please… you must destroy me.”
“You achieved your goal of immortality,” Layla said as she limped over.
“No,” Michael said. “No one lives forever. Not even X.”
He fired a bolt through Julio’s skull, ending his suffering. Michael lowered the weapon and walked over to the robotic arm he had blown off. Picking it up, he looked over at the spider machines in the corner.
“No,” Les said. “You can’t be serious, Commander.”
“We came here for defectors, and I’m not leaving without something that will help us when we get to the Metal Islands,” Michael said. “Besides, now you guys can call me ‘Tin’ again.”
They didn’t quite laugh, but the words helped ease the tension.
“Timothy, do you think you can get that spider on Deliverance up and running?” Michael asked.
“Certainly, sir.”
EIGHTEEN
The dirty yellow glow of the lighthouse beacon shone through the mist, providing a beacon for the two surviving members of the Barracudas and Hell Diver Xavier Rodriguez. They had hiked for hours through the mutated jungle. X was slogging along on fumes. By the time they got back to the outskirts of the city, he had reached the point of exhaustion that would make most men collapse.
Rhino moved by his side. The Cazador lieutenant hadn’t spoken of his injuries, but it was obvious he had taken a severe beating from the bizarre creature back in the jungle. Despite the pain, he marched on until Wendig finally raised a hand and sat down on a boulder to rest.
“Un minuto,” Rhino said to Wendig. “Take a minute, Immortal.”
X sat on the ground, using the time to catch his breath and do a systems check of his armor and suit. Blood and ash covered him from head to toe, as if he had taken a bath in gore and then rolled in a fire pit. But at least he’d been able to get his suit back online and operating.
He took a sip from the straw, sucking mostly air. The lonely shriek of a Siren made him reach for the sword they had retrieved from the debris pile. Rhino yielded the axe Whale had dropped, and Wendig raised a handgun, scanning the skies.
Seeing the two remaining members in their sorry state reminded X of just how much the Barracudas had suffered on this mission. And for what? The trophy head slung over Wendig’s shoulder?
What a waste of life, X thought.
In a way, these men reminded him of Hell Divers on a mission gone awry, like the one that killed his entire team ten years ago thanks to a faulty weather sensor. The day that his best friend, Aaron, died.
No, he realized. These men were nothing like Hell Divers.
X cursed himself for even making a comparison. Hell Divers risked their lives to save humanity. The Barracudas hunted for personal honor and privilege.
The shriek of the Siren faded away, and the team pressed ahead. Over the next ridge, X noticed that the glow from the lighthouse beacon had stopped.