In the center of a spherical island stood a three-story metal building. Like many of ITC’s facilities, this one had no windows and few entrances. But unlike most of the buildings back in the wastelands, this one had no markings whatever—no signage, nothing.
The aerial view had him wondering whether this might in fact be one of the Metal Islands that X and Magnolia were searching for. But there was no evidence of the cannibalistic Cazadores, or sunshine, or anything alive. And so far, the only two ships they had found were rust buckets.
They had several other vessels yet to search, though. He had seen them on the dive in and planned to get a better look as soon as he had the satellite uplink set up.
He glanced up at the swirling storm above him, where the clouds expanded like a rising loaf of bread. Lightning punched through the mass, to give a fleeting glimpse higher into the heavens.
Trey was up there, wondering where the hell his old man was.
I’ve got this, kid. Leave it to Pops.
Wind-driven salt spray beat against him on the final stretch away from the pier. He looked over the side, at the waves slapping the concrete. It would take hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, of years for wind and sea to finish the structure off.
Les jogged the rest of the way to the central structure where two massive steel doors sealed off the only entrance he had seen so far. As he ran, the howling wind gained strength, slamming his body. He pushed through a gust, toward a rusted ladder leading to the flat rooftop three stories above, where radio towers rose into the sky.
That was his objective, the place Michael had told him to set up the satellite comm and try to get a signal to Deliverance. He slung his rifle and started up the ladder.
A glance over his shoulder halfway up gave him a decent view of the pier he had left behind. Two massive naval cruisers stood moored at the dock. On the weather deck of the ship to his left stood Michael, watching him with a pair of binoculars.
Les continued up to the roof. Several lightning scars marked the flat concrete surface. It would have been a great place to land a supply crate, but they couldn’t risk dropping precious supplies into the ocean.
He trotted across the roof, past the radio towers, to search the rest of the facility. Four piers stretched away north from the platform, and several more to the west and east. With his rifle scope, he zoomed in on a boat docked below, tethered by chains to thick steel bollards.
This vessel looked different from the two ships where the other divers were sheltered. Barely a third their size, it looked like a fishing boat, with nets still lying on the deck where they had been abandoned.
No way that’s been here for two hundred and sixty years…
Les scanned the area a final time and discovered two more ships, one of them a military vessel with gun turrets and angular armor plating. He zoomed his scope in on the hull. Although the flag painted there was faded, he could make out the blue and red stripes and white stars.
United States of America. This was the first time in his life he had seen the actual flag. He felt a stirring of emotion, knowing that this country had once been the most powerful in the world. Hundreds of millions of humans had lived there for centuries, in what people from the Hive would consider luxurious conditions.
But a single AI virus had brought the great nation down in just days and destroyed the entire world within weeks, leading to the Blackout.
The flag had been a symbol of strength and freedom. And today it also represented an opportunity. If they could get the ship working, they would have a way to fight the Cazadores.
With that thought came a chilling realization.
Katrina hadn’t sent them here for supplies. She sent them here to find military vessels that could help X and Magnolia if they ever found the Metal Islands.
A transmission hissed in his helmet. “What’s your status, Raptor Four?”
Michael’s voice snapped Les out of his speculations.
“Preparing to set up the sat comm, Commander.”
“Roger.”
Les trotted back to the towers centered in the rooftop where he took a knee, pulled out the satellite dish from his cargo pocket, and expanded it. The wind whipped against him as he worked, rippling his uniform. He had done this plenty of times before, but hacking into each facility was different. He used his minicomputer and extra battery to power the satellite link. Ideally, he would run it through the towers on the roof, but the power to Red Sphere appeared to be down.
Lightning flashed bright overhead, and he braced for the crack of thunder. The faster he worked, the better. He didn’t want to end up getting zapped like Erin.
After several minutes of fiddling with the equipment, he finally had it working. He extended the antennas and synced his minicomputer with the satellite. He had a signal, but it was weak.
Les sent his first transmission to Deliverance.
“Command, this is Raptor Four. Do you copy? Over.”
Static crackled inside his helmet.
He waited a few seconds, then repeated the message.
Still no response.
After three more tries, he glanced up at the sky. The storm was too intense to penetrate, even via satellite, which reaffirmed the fact that they would not be riding their helium balloons back up to the airships.
That left him with only one option.
He left the equipment on the rooftop and ran back to the ladder, climbing down to the platform. Michael had his rifle out on the stern of the ship, and Les waved at him. They met on the deck, where Les explained the situation.
Michael said, “Guess we’ll have to go inside and try to get the power back on to activate the radio tower. If we’re lucky, we can get a transmission to Deliverance.”
Les gave a nod. “What about Erin?”
“I’m leaving her here with Layla. It’s safer.”
“Agreed.”
The two divers returned to the quarters on the ship. Erin was on her feet.
“You’re not leaving me here, so don’t even try.”
Les frowned. Apparently, they had kept the channel open outside.
“You two seem to forget who the weakest links are,” Layla added. “You need both of us.”
“Hey, I’m not discriminating,” Michael said. “But, Erin, you did just take a nasty shot of lightning.”
“And I said I’m fine.”
Les could see that Michael wasn’t in the mood to argue.
“Fine, but if you start to drag, we’re stashing you somewhere while we search Red Sphere.”
“Deal.”
The divers packed up their gear and followed Les into the passage. Erin managed to walk on her own until they got to the ladder on the ship. She stopped, trying to disguise the pain by turning her head the other way, or so it looked to Les. But he could still hear her labored breaths.
And she wasn’t the only one injured. Michael had a limp to his gait.
Maybe I should just go with Layla…
Moving into Red Sphere with two injured could be a liability, especially if they were all forced to run at any point. On top of that, Layla and Michael were too close emotionally, which already compromised them—although Les had never said a word about that.
He held rank on the airship, but when it came to diving, Michael was the boss. All Les could do was make a recommendation.
He stopped at the ledge of the ship, waiting for the thunder to pass before speaking.
“Commander, all due respect, but why don’t you let Layla and me proceed to Red Sphere? You’re hurt, Erin’s hurt, and again…” He held up both hands. “If we run into trouble, you both are going to be a liability.”
Layla put a hand on Michael’s armored shoulder. “He’s right.”