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She almost turned away from the grisly sight of a corpse, both legs sheared off and cauterized at the knee. Straps held down the dead man’s wrists. A carpet of dried blood surrounded the table.

Now she knew what was on the trays she had seen in the cabins earlier. The Cazadores’ final meal had been a feast of human flesh.

She walked back to the Cazador prisoners, fury building inside her. She wanted a closer look at the people capable of such an atrocity. Several of them looked away, but one man broke out in laughter.

She ended his mirth with a kick that broke out several teeth. The other prisoners began to squirm in their restraints, but Trey stilled them by firing a shot into the overhead. The round ricocheted off a wall.

Crying came from the container, but it wasn’t until something wet rolled down her face that Katrina realized she, too, was weeping. She forced her gaze away from the cannibals, back over to the bars of the container.

The man in tattered clothing pointed at the Cazador prisoners and then clenched his fists.

“Is he saying what I think he’s saying?” Trey asked.

“Hell if I know,” Vish replied. “Dude has no freaking tongue. How gross is that?”

Another man emerged from the back of the container and gently helped the old man to the side. This man wasn’t as thin, but Katrina could still count his ribs through his T-shirt.

He opened his mouth and tapped his chest.

“Victor,” he said.

“Captain Katrina DaVita,” she replied.

The man spoke again, pointing at the guy with no tongue. “Ton.”

Katrina nodded and said, “Nice to meet you, Ton.”

The man tried to speak again, but he could make no intelligible sound.

“Victor. Ton. Fight,” Victor said, raising his fists. He pointed at the Cazadores. Then he grabbed the lock in the bars and glared at Katrina.

“Victor. Ton. Fight.”

Alexander stepped up beside her.

“I think he’s saying, if we let them out they’ll help us fight,” she said.

“Ma’am, I’d highly advise against that,” Alexander said quietly. “We don’t know if these people are any better than the Cazadores.”

Katrina took a moment to scrutinize the other captives inside the container. It struck her then that she could just as easily have been staring into the lower decks of the Hive.

These people weren’t murderers. They weren’t cannibals. They just wanted to survive.

“Get them out of there and fed,” she said to Alexander. “I saw boxes of food on the way in.”

“What about the Cazadores?” Trey asked.

Katrina looked over her shoulder at the savages. She had no empathy left for these people. Snorting in disgust, she said, “Maybe those sharks are still hungry.”

NINETEEN

“What do you mean, they attacked Cazador ships?” Michael asked. He was winded, tired, and dealing with the phantom pains again, but the news of Katrina’s battle on the open seas had him and the other two divers stunned.

They were finally back on Deliverance after their fruitless mission to Red Sphere. Apparently, a lot had happened since they entered the facility.

“Is Trey okay?” Les asked.

Ada Winslow, the freckle-faced young ensign, rose from her chair. Her eyes were dull with fatigue, but she still managed to smile politely.

“Everyone on the USS Zion is fine,” Ada said. “Last I talked to Captain DaVita, they were boarding the container ship to search for supplies and neutralize any remaining hostiles. From what she said, it was a slaughter.”

Michael wasn’t sure whether to celebrate or worry. He set his backpack on the deck. A metallic robotic hand stuck out the top. The arm he had brought back from Red Sphere was lighter than it looked.

The backpack slumped over, and the hand clanked on the deck, drawing the eyes of Dave and Bronson.

“The hell is that?” Bronson asked in his gravelly voice.

“That’s all that’s left of the defectors,” Michael replied. “They left Red Sphere before we got there.”

“Where did they go?” Ada asked.

“Good question,” Layla replied.

“Get the captain on the horn,” Michael said. “And get us the hell out of here.”

He looked at the main monitor across the room, which showed an aerial view of Red Sphere. From the sky, it looked a lot like a virus shell and the spikes surrounding it.

The airship vibrated as they began to move. Michael stared at the screen and then held up his hand.

“Hold on,” he said.

“Holding,” Bronson replied.

“Timothy, do we have any shots of what Red Sphere looked like the last time we were here?” Michael asked.

The AI appeared in holographic form.

“Yes, I do, Commander. Bringing it online now.”

Michael got up from his chair and stepped closer to the monitor. “Bring it up side by side with the current image.”

Layla joined him in front of the monitor, and the other officers huddled up behind them. The pictures came online a moment later. It took only a second to see that one of the ships was missing.

Why didn’t I think of this earlier, Michael thought.

“Well, I’ll be dipped in shit,” Les said.

“Is there a way to track that ship?” Michael asked, turning to Timothy.

The AI shook his head. “I’m sorry, Commander, but that is beyond the technology we possess. We don’t even know which direction they sailed.”

“Shit,” Michael muttered. Having the DEF-Nine units out there and hunting down remaining humans was the last thing they needed right now, but he couldn’t focus on that when the Metal Islands were so close. He could only hope the machines weren’t heading there. Although it would neutralize the threat from the Cazadores, it would also destroy the oil rigs and kill his friends.

“Get us out of here,” he said.

The officers went back to their stations, and he moved over to the comms system. Ada smiled politely at him and brought the receiver to her mouth.

“Captain DaVita, this is Ensign Winslow, do you copy? Over.”

Familiar static hissed through the bridge. Michael looked at the mission clock on his wrist computer. They were thirty-six hours and forty minutes out from the rendezvous, which didn’t allow much of a window for surgical attachment of the robotic arm, and almost zero recovery time. But that was where the rapid-healing nanotechnology came in. If it worked, he would be okay to dive. Theoretically…

“How long until we get back to the Hive?” he asked.

Bronson looked over from his monitor. “I’ve plotted several courses, and depending on the weather, the fastest we can get there is five hours.”

Before Michael could reply, a voice came from the comm speakers.

“Ensign Winslow, this is Eevi Corey,” said the voice. “I will patch you through to the captain. She is currently on the Cazador container ship with Alexander, Vish, and Trey.”

Les motioned for the receiver, and Ada handed it back to him.

“Ensign Winslow, good to hear from you,” came a strained voice. “How is everyone on Deliverance?”

“Captain, this is actually Lieutenant Mitchells,” he said. “We’re well and have returned from Red Sphere. Unfortunately, the defectors were gone.”

“Gone…”

“Yes ma’am. They left before we got there, and we have no idea where they are sailing.”

“So the mission was a failure?”

“Not entirely,” Les said, looking over at the robotic arm. “We did manage to find a working laser rifle and something else that might come in handy.”