The Hive lurched again, throwing Jordan into the wheel. His shoulder hit one of the wooden spokes. He caught himself, but Katrina hit the floor.
“Katrina!”
She smiled back at him from one knee.
“I’m okay.”
“Go strap in,” he said.
“But—”
“That’s an order, Lieutenant.”
Red lights flashed over her path as she made her way to her seat. The emergency alarm screamed from the PA system. Ensign Ryan had tripped and fallen on his way to another station. Letting out a grunt of pain, he put his hand to his unnaturally curved lower spine. Two other officers helped him up, and Jordan went back to steering the ship.
He grabbed the spokes and put all his strength into turning the wheel, pushing against the resistance.
“Lieutenant, Tell Samson he’s going to be out of a job if he doesn’t fix my damn rudders!” he shouted at Katrina.
An empty threat, Jordan thought grimly. If Samson failed, no one would have a job.
Katrina was already talking into her headset, relaying his orders. Jordan’s eyes flitted back to the main display. He drowned out the chaos around him by drawing in steady breaths and exhaling through his nose. If the sky was the ocean, and the storm a rocky beach, then the Hive was racing toward the shoals faster than he could turn it away.
“Captain,” called a voice nearly lost in the alarms.
Jordan glanced behind him and caught Katrina’s gaze. Her sharp eyes told him things were about to get even worse.
“Samson says he can’t fix the rudders from inside the ship.”
Jordan closed his eyes in anticipation of what came next.
“We need to deploy a Hell Diver team to fix them,” Katrina said.
Jordan pushed harder on the wheel. The aluminum struts creaked ominously.
“On this bearing, the heart of the storm will hit us in less than forty-five minutes,” Hunt said.
Forty-five minutes. There was never enough time, but he had been in situations with less of it than he had now. Life in the sky was always coming down to the wire.
They were almost parallel with the storm now, but soon it wouldn’t matter. Jordan knew the ship as well as he knew his own body. Without the rudders, they were, as Ash used to say, dead in the air.
“Sir, Samson is asking for your orders,” Katrina said.
Jordan used his shoulder to wipe the sweat from his chin and then turned to his XO. “Direct full power to the turbofans—full reverse.”
He made himself breathe deeply before he gave his next order. Every time he ordered the Hell Divers deployed, it was a potential death sentence. Their ranks were already strained by the losses they had sustained this year, but they knew the risks. On the bright side, perhaps fate would take care of his little blue-haired security problem, and he wouldn’t have to take further action to deal with her.
“Send Michael and Layla topside,” he said. “They’re the best engineering divers we have left.” He hesitated before adding, “And someone find Magnolia. I want her on this mission.”
As his officers scrambled to carry out his orders, Jordan heaved a nervous sigh. Maybe one good thing could come of all this after all. He wasn’t proud of the things he had to do as captain of the last airship in the sky, but the guilt was a burden he could bear if it meant keeping the human race alive.
THREE
Layla’s hand brushed Michael’s, and their fingers interlaced.
“Got bad news,” Weaver said. “Samson sent a team into a tunnel connecting to the rudders from inside the ship, but the issue seems to be on the outside.”
“So they’re going to need us to fix it from…” Layla’s words trailed off, and Michael squeezed her hand.
“Afraid so,” Weaver said. He hurried toward the launch bay doors, leaving Michael and Layla alone.
Most of teams Apollo and Angel stood near the portholes of the launch bay. Lightning illuminated their uneasy faces as they awaited orders.
All eyes were on Michael and Layla as they suited up. He pulled his chest piece from his locker and slipped it over his head. After putting his arms through the slots, he rotated for Layla to fasten the clasps on either side. The single piece fit snugly over his synthetic suit, but it was lightweight enough that it didn’t weigh him down once his boots hit solid ground.
“We’re still on for dinner later, right?” he said, smiling at Layla.
“Y-yes, of course,” she said.
The hitch in her voice broke Michael’s heart. He wasn’t afraid to die if it meant saving the Hive, but the thought of losing her terrified him.
“Is there any chance,” he said quietly, “that if I ordered you stay here, you’d listen to me?”
Layla grinned. “Why would I ever start listening to you now?”
She leaned in until they were so close he could smell the mint on her breath.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” she asked.
Michael nodded. Three years ago, he had fixed one of the ship’s rudders, but that had been in clear skies. He hoped this would be another easy fix—say, an open circuit—but he wouldn’t know until they were up there.
“Your turn,” Michael said. He gazed into Layla’s dark eyes. He was exactly her height now. When they were growing up, she had been a bit taller, but he caught up. He liked finally being on her level.
“What’s our plan?” she asked.
Michael had to smile at her use of “our.” Layla wasn’t just his lover; she was his best friend. She was his person and always had been.
“Diagnose the problem.” He cocked his chin at the coils of wire on the floor. “And fix it.”
“And don’t get fried,” she added with a halfhearted grin.
“Right,” he said. “Make a note: don’t get fried.”
Michael secured the clasps on the sides of her chest plate, trying not to think about what she looked like without the armor. Oh, well, the prospect of climbing on top of a moving airship during a storm was more effective than a cold shower. He fastened the plates around his legs and pulled his helmet from the top shelf of his locker, then traced a finger over the Team Raptor crest for good luck, before slipping the helmet over his head.
Layla handed him his battery unit. If the armor had a heart, it was the battery. He clicked it into the socket on his chest plate, and it warmed to life, spreading a bright red glow over the dull black armor.
“Well, look at that,” Layla said. “Did you modify your battery again?”
He nodded. “It’s got twice the power now. All I had to do was mess with the—”
Before he could finish, the double doors to the launch bay screeched open. Magnolia hurried inside the room, with Rodger and Andrew behind her. They all looked exhausted.
“Where’ve you guys been?” Michael said.
“Kicking Weaver’s ass at cards,” Magnolia said. “I was about to be rich!”
“ ‘About to’ being the operative phrase,” Rodger said. “I’ve almost been rich about as many times as I’ve almost died on dives.”
Ty and a couple of technicians carried bags of gear into the room. Weaver directed them away from the launch tubes and toward the control room. Then he jogged over to Michael.
“You almost ready, kid?”
God damn it, Michael thought. “Kid” was even worse than “Tin.” Weaver seemed determined to be everybody’s dad, but Michael wasn’t interested in yet another father figure.
“Yes,” he said stiffly.
Across the room, Magnolia was still ranting about the card game. “This is some horseshit!” she yelled. “I had a straight flush. You owe me two hundred credits, Weaver!”
“Save it for the rematch, princess,” Weaver said.