Heart thudding like a trip-hammer, he shoved the blaster into its holster and cradled the case of cells against his chest with his other arm. Then he reached over his shoulder and pressed a button on his booster. A balloon shot upward out of the canister, and helium rushed inside with a loud whoosh.
The abominations barreled toward him, and for the first time he saw them up close: the bristles cresting from their scabby skulls, their thin bodies, the lean, sinewy muscles and the curved talons on their hands and feet. He could even see the even rows of pointed teeth. The scarred and wrinkled flesh blurred together as all three lunged at once.
X closed his eyes and braced himself, but instead of crashing to the ground under a flurry of claws and teeth, he was yanked off his feet and into the air. His eyes snapped open as the beasts collided into one another where he had stood only a moment before. Long limbs reached up, claws slashing at his ankles. Then, as he watched in horror, the pack of five converged on Aaron’s body and began to feed. They tore him limb from limb, fighting greedily over his remains and shrieking in their high-pitched wails.
X closed his eyes and forced himself to think of happier times—all the way back to when he and Aaron had been young men, long before Tin was born and long before their wives had died. He wanted to scream, wanted to punch something. But all he could do was hold the precious case to his chest and trust the lighter-than-air buoyancy hauling him upward.
When he opened his eyes again, he was in darkness. The city was gone, lost below the clouds, and he could no longer hear the shrieks of the creatures. Lightning bloomed in the towering clouds, and thunder answered, close enough to rattle his body. He watched the static arc spiderweb across the sky, and hoped for a moment that it would strike him.
But he survived. For some reason, Xavier Rodriguez survived yet again while better men died.
A brilliant strike of lightning sizzled through the clouds, exposing the oval outline of the Hive far above. The ship was already maneuvering into position, the turbofans whirring. Captain Ash had detected his beacon and was adjusting to pick him up. Circular metal doors, looking no larger than his thumb, opened in the bottom of the ship.
X cradled the case in his right arm and reached for a toggle with his left hand. He pulled down on the handle gently, just so, guiding his helium-filled canopy toward the reentry bay. His body swayed as the harnesses redirected the balloon.
A moment later, the ship swallowed him, and the top of his balloon hit the plastic dome of the recovery bay. With nowhere to go, he hung in the air, watching the black clouds churn beneath his feet, and waited for the techs to reseal the bay.
The doors clamped shut, and he reached over his shoulder to punch the button on his booster. The balloon slowly deflated, the helium escaping as he was lowered to the deck.
A cloud of antiseptic mist blasted him as the room repressurized. When it cleared, he saw a team of technicians in yellow suits surrounding the plastic dome. He shuddered at the sight, remembering the monsters twenty thousand feet below. But instead of teeth and talons, only gentle hands awaited him.
Call it luck, mojo, or divine intervention, but X had successfully completed his ninety-sixth jump.
THREE
Captain Ash, with two Militia soldiers flanking her, rushed to the drop bay. Despite her condition, she was still outrunning them both.
“Only one diver made it back?” she asked.
Neither man responded. They were too busy keeping the shouting passengers on both sides of the hallway from getting too close. The corridors were unusually crowded at this late hour. There was only one explanation: someone on her staff had leaked information about the dive.
She would have Jordan deal with that later.
“Move it,” the soldier on her left said. He strode ahead and pushed through a knot of teenagers loitering in Ash’s path. They were pointing and staring at fresh red paint on the wall that read “Equal rights for lower-deckers.”
She didn’t slow at the increasingly familiar sight. There was no time right now to deal with the threat of civil unrest from those who lived belowdecks. Her focus was on keeping the damn ship in the air.
With the kids out of the way, Ash picked up speed. It was a five-minute walk or a two-minute run. She ran. The heavy footfalls of boots followed her as the soldiers tried their best to keep up.
The sea of passengers funneling through the hallways reminded her how the Hive got its name. Long ago, the ship had been commissioned as the Persephone, but as the years passed and the hallways and compartments grew darker, the passengers had started calling it the “Hive.” The name had stuck. Most of these people didn’t even know the ship’s original name.
The launch bay was bustling with activity when she arrived. A medic rushed through the doors just in front of her, and she followed him into the vaulted facility toward a yellow-suited mob. The plastic dome over the reentry bay was surrounded by technicians, watching as the diver inside went through the cleansing process. A grappling hook pulled the dome away a moment later, and violet mist spilled from the sides. Vents sucked it away.
“Out of the way!” came a muffled shout.
The yellow suits parted, and the black matte armor of a diver emerged. The man staggered from the crowd with a case in his hands. He set it on the ground, and his visor homed in on Ash.
“Thank, God,” one of the technicians said, bending down to scoop up the case.
God? Ash thought. God’s got fuck-all to do with what happens up here. Then again, God may have had everything to do with what was happening up here. Who could say?
“Captain!” the diver shouted.
Ash froze in her tracks. It was X.
He shoved a technician out of the way and removed his helmet. His forehead glistened with sweat. Those brown eyes that Ash knew all too well narrowed in on her.
“What the fuck happened!” X yelled.
He tossed his helmet and powered through a few outliers who had stopped to gawk. The helmet clanked on the deck and rolled to a stop a few feet from Ash.
“Why the hell didn’t you delay the launch!”
“Commander, you’re hurt,” a medic began to say. “Let me check you for—”
“I’m fine,” X growled, waving him away.
“I’m sorry,” Ash said, holding up a hand but standing her ground. She felt someone step up on her left. She didn’t have to look to know it was Jordan. “There was a faulty sensor,” she continued. “We didn’t know we were dropping you into a storm until it was too late. You know how fast the weather can blow up. It’s unpredictable.”
X stopped a few feet away from them, so close she could smell his breath. His chest heaved in and out, and his fierce eyes roved from Jordan to Ash.
“Unpredictable?” he snorted. “That’s horseshit and you know it. Your ops team should have seen it.”
“You think I would send you into a storm on purpose?” Ash said. “You think I would intentionally try to kill my best divers?” She didn’t think she sounded condescending, but X continued to glare at her.
“Well you did pretty well—killed all of ’em but one. Will. Rodney. Aaron. Dead. And you expect me to believe it’s because of a faulty sensor? How about you tell Tin that. Tell him his dad died because of cheap electronics that your people were too goddamn lazy to troubleshoot.”
Ash looked at the floor and then back at X. “I’ll tell him his dad died for those.” She pointed at the metal case at X’s feet. “He died to keep us in the air.”