Jordan could finish Ryan’s thought for him. The storms, especially over the Eastern Seaboard of North America, were unpredictable. No one could explain why, but he had a theory. Some of the largest old-world cities had been on the East Coast: New York, Washington, Boston. All had turned into poisoned craters during a war that happened so long ago, no one remembered who started it. Even now, over two and half centuries later, the air above those scorched cities remained volatile and chaotic.
The same went for those cities on the West Coast: wastelands such as Los Angeles, Portland, and Seattle. But other than Hades, the Midwest hadn’t been hit as hard during World War III. That was why the Hive and the ships before her had scavenged most of the known locations in the center of the continent. Jordan was now forced to search the more severely irradiated cities in the East for parts, fuel cells, and whatever else the Hell Divers could salvage.
Although he couldn’t see it, he knew they were above the ruins of one of those cities now—a place the archives called Charleston.
“We’re ten miles out from the nucleus of the storm,” Ryan announced.
Another brilliant web of lightning flashed across the main display. The resulting boom of thunder rattled the bulkheads of the command center.
The ship was already too close.
“Your orders, Captain?” Ryan said.
Jordan felt the spokes grow slippery beneath his sweating palms. He continued to scrutinize the skies as if they might give him an answer.
“Sir?” said another voice before Jordan could reply to the first question. Ensign Hunt stood a few feet away, hands clasped behind his broad back.
“I have an update for you, sir.”
“Can’t it wait until later?”
“It’s about that transmission from the Hilltop Bastion,” Hunt said.
Jordan glanced over his shoulder to make sure none of the other crew had heard. “Keep your voice down,” he said quietly.
Hunt took a step closer so that he stood right beside Jordan. “That signal you asked me to research is getting stronger, sir. I’m not sure how old it is, but I was able to identify the coordinates.”
“And?”
Hunt jerked his chin toward the screen. “We’re getting close.” He hesitated and then added in a harsh whisper, “What about that other transmission? If word ever gets out that he survived…”
Jordan shot him a stern look. He had been obliged to let Hunt in on some of the secrets aboard the Hive. Since he was communications officer, all transmissions from the surface filtered through him. Most were ancient recordings, playing on a loop. But if Hunt kept pushing, kept asking questions, Jordan would have no choice but to replace him.
Captain Ash had been too soft on security and information leaks, and look what had happened: an armed insurrection led by the lower-deckers. Six years ago, not long before Ash’s death, she had discovered that one of her own officers was hacking into the restricted archives. The officer, a middle-aged woman named Janet Gardner, had been searching for information about the war that devastated the planet. That knowledge was forbidden for good reasons. There were things the citizens of the Hive didn’t need to know. Things that would threaten their sheltered reality, like the truth about the surface and what dwelled in the darkness.
Ash had been too lenient with Officer Gardner. Jordan wouldn’t make the same mistake.
“Sir, there’s something else,” Hunt said.
“What is it?” Jordan asked.
“I think I know who’s been hacking into the archives.”
Jordan scanned for any sign of eavesdroppers. The bridge wasn’t the right place for this conversation, but he couldn’t just walk away from the storm. The only people watching were several kids, all apprentices training for careers as the next generation of officers.
He took one hand off the wheel to wave them back to work. They would learn their duty fast or be kicked to a less desirable apprenticeship.
As they scattered, Jordan cocked an eyebrow at Hunt. “Proceed.”
“It has to be Magnolia Katib, sir. She’s logged more hours in the archives than anyone else on the ship.”
Gritting his teeth, Jordan nodded and pivoted back to the view of the screen. Magnolia was a loose cannon, with no respect for the rules. He would deal with her soon.
On-screen, the storm appeared to have no end. The border of the clouds stretched at least fifty miles east to west—a solid wall of black cumulus and flashing electricity.
Ryan cleared his throat to remind Jordan that the clock was ticking.
“I’m thinking, Ensign. Rash decisions get people killed. Patience keeps us alive.”
“This could be it,” Hunt said, his eyes bright. “This could be what Captain Ash was looking for. Perhaps this is what she was trying to say before—”
Jordan cracked his neck from side to side, silencing the man. Only Jordan knew what Captain Ash had been looking for—and what she thought she had found before she died. Magnolia was just like her: always curious, always searching.
Curiosity got people killed.
“Sir, I’m just saying it’s worth checking out, don’t you think?” Hunt said.
Hunt was a decent officer, but like Ash, he was also an optimistic dreamer. When Jordan took over command, she had told him to use his heart first, then his mind. And for a few years, he had bought that advice. But now he knew, the best compass wasn’t in his chest. It was the one on the monitor to his right.
Math and science were the only things that could save humankind, not some delusion of a promised land.
There was nothing down there but death and monsters.
He made his decision. He would not risk the integrity of the ship by going through the storm, and he would not waste lives by dropping a Hell Diver team to the surface.
“Direct all noncritical power to the rudders and turbofans,” Jordan ordered. He spun the wheel to the right, guiding the Hive away from the storm. The bulkheads groaned in protest.
Hunt looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he kept his mouth shut and returned to his station. That was good. Jordan didn’t want to make a scene in front of his crew. He continued turning the wheel, but the more he pushed, the more it seemed to resist him.
Digital telemetry scrolled across his personal monitor, followed by a message: Error 414. It took Jordan a moment to recall the error code, but as soon as he did, he shouted, “Ryan, get Samson on the horn! We’ve got a problem with the rudders!”
“On it, sir.”
“We’re nine miles out, Captain,” Hunt announced from the deck above.
The bow split through the southern edge of the storm, barreling northeast toward the towering monstrosity. Jordan tried to force the wheel, but it hardly budged. The turbofans allowed some movement, but without the rudders, they would veer into the storm.
The knot in his stomach tightened. There was no way the Hive would survive a trip through that. He couldn’t drop a team down there even if he wanted to. This was exactly why he had tried to avoid the East Coast.
Cursing, Jordan twisted the wheel with all his strength. A shudder went through the ship.
He checked his monitor again, taking in the information with a quick sweep. The bow was turning at a forty-five-degree angle, but the rudders were now completely jammed. The Hive was spearing straight toward the flashing purple beast.
Jordan caught a drift of Katrina’s herbal perfume, but he kept his gaze on the main display.
“Captain, I’m here,” she said.
“About time, Lieutenant. Things are about to get very—”