Katherine, her head against his chest, said, “You take care of Trey. Promise me that.”
“He’s not diving, don’t worry,” Les said. “I’ll dive before he does.”
“And that’s also what I’m worried about,” Katherine said, pulling away. “I don’t want either of you diving. Why do you two have to be Hell Divers? You’re the lieutenant of Deliverance, Les. I thought Katrina said she didn’t want you diving.”
“She did, but things have changed. I’m sorry, Kate. This is my duty now.”
Phyl sniffled, and pulled her tear-streaked face away from his stomach.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” he murmured. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Ready?” Trey carried his bag under the one light in their small apartment. His shaved head glistened under the glow.
“I want you back to celebrate your eighteenth birthday,” Katherine said, pointing her finger at Trey and then kissing him on the cheek.
“Stop worrying, Mom. I got Dad to look after me.”
Les smiled, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the nightmare he had just woken from. In it, his son’s chute didn’t open on a dive, and Les was forced to watch the boy cartwheel through the darkness screaming, “Dad, help me!”
“Papa,” Phyl said, snapping Les out of the memory and dispelling the horrid image.
“Yeah, sweetie.” He squatted down to look in her eyes.
“I made something for you,” she said, glancing over at Katherine, who nodded back.
Phyl pulled a yellow knitted figure out of her pocket and handed it to Les.
“It’s a giraffe,” she said proudly.
Les held the small figure in his callused hands. The giraffe’s long neck and legs reminded him of himself.
“It looks kind of like the picture books, right, Papa?” Phyl asked.
“Yes, it does, baby. I love it. Thank you.”
Phyl smiled broadly.
“Good job, sis,” Trey said. “I like it. Did you make me one, too?”
She wagged her head. “No, but I will if you want.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.” Trey slapped his dad on the shoulder. “We better go, Pops.”
“I know.” Les stood up, gave his wife and daughter another hug goodbye, and grabbed his backpack off the floor.
“I love you both,” he said. “Be good while we’re gone.”
“Bring us back something,” Phyl said with a broad smile.
Katherine blew Les a kiss. He smiled, and he and Trey set off from their quarters on the Hive, toward Deliverance. Dozens of people were out in the passageways, and most of them stopped to stare at the two divers.
The boy seemed just as proud at that as Phyl had been about her giraffe figure. He walked with his head held high. It was the first time Les had ever seen his son so proud, and while he was glad to see him happy, he worried that pride might make Trey do something stupid.
He needed the boy to understand that this duty wasn’t for admiration. It was for the ultimate stakes: the future of humanity. Les would not let his son become a statistic.
Two militia guards stood at the span linking the Hive to Deliverance. Most people had to show their credentials to cross to the other ship, but Les’ and Trey’s uniforms gave them unquestioned access.
“Good luck,” the two guards said almost in unison.
Les led the way across the span, boots clanking on the metal. It was an odd feeling, knowing he would be separated from his wife and daughter again for an unknown length of time.
The hatch closed behind them, and the militia guards on the Deliverance side opened the hatch to let them board. For a few seconds, Les stood between the two airships, looking out the portholes at the darkness beyond.
As soon as the hatch opened, he ducked under the overhead and stepped onto Deliverance, where he slung his backpack over his shoulders. Inside were several of his favorite possessions: a water bottle, a handheld music player with connecting earbuds, his tool belt, and a science fiction book about an alien invasion.
The speakers built into the overhead flared to life with a clinically calm automated female voice.
“All noncritical personnel, please make your way to the Hive. Deliverance will undock in twenty-one minutes. Thank you.”
Those who hadn’t already disembarked were moving away from the new wing, where hundreds of people had been relocated. Empty paint buckets and hog-bristle brushes were left behind, the paint still drying on the bulkheads where children had been painting colorful murals.
“I don’t want to leave, Mama,” said Jimmy Moffitt.
“It’s okay, Jimmy,” his mother replied. “This is only for a little while.”
Many of the people carrying bags away from the open hatches were former lower-deckers. Militia guards walked alongside to escort them back to the Hive.
“We don’t want to go back there,” grumbled Justin Kraus. “You’re going to throw us out like trash again?”
“This is only temporary,” replied one of the guards.
“How do we know that?” asked a woman who had stopped in the passage, clutching a baby to her chest. Les couldn’t see her face, but he assumed it was Marla, one of the farmers.
He stopped in the passage and motioned for Trey to wait.
“I assure you, this won’t be long,” Les said.
“We’re going to dive and bring back stuff for you guys, don’t worry,” Trey added.
Les sighed under his breath. His son was eager to prove himself, but making promises like that was only going to get him in trouble.
“You’re probably going to die, and then we’ll lose our new home,” Justin muttered.
Trey stepped forward, but Les subtly put a hand on his wrist to keep his son back. The other thing the boy needed to learn was patience.
“The ship will be back soon,” Les said calmly. He stopped short of making any promises he might not be able to keep.
“All noncritical personnel, please make your way to the Hive,” echoed over the comm system.
Justin and the other passengers looked up at the bulkheads.
“Let’s go,” said one of the guards, drumming his fingers against the club on his duty belt.
Justin lingered a moment while the others kept moving toward the exit. Then he followed without incident.
Les watched them leave, then continued in the opposite direction until he got to the mess hall, his next stop. It was half the size of the trading post on the Hive, with only twenty white plastic tables. To his surprise, one of them was completely filled with the other divers.
Erin waved at Les and Trey. “We don’t have a feast tonight, but the chicken stew is still warm if you want some.”
Les forced a smile. “Save me a bowl.” He looked over to Trey. “You wait here for me and get some of that food.”
“Okay, Dad.”
Les gestured for Erin to join him away from the others.
“I thought it was just vets on this mission,” he said.
She shrugged a muscular shoulder exposed by her black tank top. “Yeah, but Katrina still wants everyone here. That’s why you brought Trey, right?”
Les shot a glance at his son, who was already slurping down a bowl of soup.
“He wanted to come, and I knew if I said no, he would just get mad.”
“Well, don’t worry, okay?”
“Easy for you to say,” Les said with a grin. “I’ve got to get to the bridge.”
He hurried out of the room as the final warnings played over the comm system. The passages were mostly empty now—only a few stragglers.