“Get in your stirrups and start jugging!” he shouted.
Layla followed his lead below, and when she reached the ladder, they rigged nylon pulleys from the bottom two rungs and started winching Magnolia up. The work was backbreaking, especially in the wind, but, inch by inch, they at last got her to the ladder.
The dark clouds on the horizon lightened. The end of the storm was in sight. The Hive was almost clear.
Michael hurriedly dismantled the makeshift rig and was stowing the pulleys in his side pocket, his other hand holding the ladder rail, when the ship lurched. His boots slid on the wet rung, and he lost his grip. Layla fell at the same time, yanking Magnolia off, and in the space of a second, all three were dangling below the rudders, right back where they had started.
“What the fuck are you doing up there?” Magnolia screamed. “Help me!”
“Hold on!” Michael shouted back. He felt for the rope and caught a wrap. It was eight-kilonewton test, so he wasn’t worried about it snapping. But the hanger and the post that anchored them were another matter. If either broke, the other would probably give, too, and they all would get whisked right into the blades of the turbofans.
“Captain, you have to shut off the fans or we’re going to lose Magnolia!” Michael said. “We’re almost clear of the storm. Please. I’m begging you!”
“I’m sorry, Raptor One,” Jordan replied. “I can’t shut off those turbofans until we’re completely clear.”
The sound of the fans was louder now. Michael looked down to find Magnolia’s legs being sucked toward the turbines, forcing her into a jackknife position.
He ran through their limited options. If Jordan was unwilling to shut the fans off, all Michael could do was rig his ascenders again and use the stirrups to haul all three of them a little higher until they cleared the storm. He needed only a few minutes.
There was, of course, one other option, which disgusted Michael even to think about. He and Layla could easily climb to safety if they didn’t have Magnolia weighing them down. But he would never give that order. He wasn’t like the captain. Either they all would survive this together, or no one would. Then Jordan could deal with the fallout from having killed three of his best divers.
Michael stepped into the stirrups and looked down at Layla. “Start jugging like your life depends on it—because it does!”
She nodded, and together they started upward again.
Magnolia’s raspy voice rose over the whine of the turbines. “Michael!” she yelled. “Tell Weaver I had that straight flush, you hear me? I want that on my fucking memorial plaque!”
Below, something glinted in the blue light of Magnolia’s battery pack. She had pulled her knife.
“No!” Layla shouted.
“Magnolia, don’t!” Michael said. “Just hold on! We’re almost clear of the storm. We’re going to get you home. Just hold on!”
He worked the ascenders faster, climbing as quickly as his exhausted limbs and the weight of three divers with chutes and armor would allow. Layla was doing the same thing below him. Sheets of rain hit the divers as they raced to save their friend.
They had pulled Magnolia a foot farther away from the turbofans, but it wasn’t enough. The exertion was catching up. They would never get themselves and her to the ladder again. They would slide right back down the sheer face of the stern. He pushed with his boots and pressed his right foot into the stirrup with all his strength. The feeling that he was about to fail gnawed at the pit of his stomach. He pushed and pulled harder, unwilling to give up.
Lightning cracked, farther away now. The strikes were intermittent, and the sky was growing lighter. The storm was breaking up, but the turbofans continued to whir below them.
Michael felt something odd happening with the locking carabiner clipped to his chest armor. It was bending from the combined weight of Layla and Magnolia.
“Captain, please,” Michael pleaded. “We’re almost clear! Please just shut off turbofans nine and ten!”
This time, there was no response.
“It’s been fun watching you kids grow up,” Magnolia said quietly over the comms. “I’m sorry I can’t be there to see you get married someday.”
Before Michael could reply, the load beneath him suddenly halved. He looked down as the blur of blue that was Magnolia’s battery pack got sucked under the ship. There was no scream, just the crack of thunder and the groan of the ship.
“Magnolia!” Layla yelled.
Michael closed his eyes and dipped his helmet in despair. Anger quickly replaced the pointless emotion. Was this how X had felt when Michael’s father was killed due to a faulty weather sensor? Michael had blamed X, at least in part, and X had blamed Captain Ash. But now he realized the truth. Regardless of who was captaining the ship, divers always came last.
Layla was sobbing, and Michael kicked the taut rope below him to get her attention.
“Come on,” he said. “There’s nothing we can do for her, and we have to climb before my locker blows.”
“I can’t believe she’s dead,” Layla said. “She sacrificed herself for us.”
“Maybe she made it past the turbofans. Maybe she’ll deploy her chute and we can pick her up later.” Michael knew how crazy that sounded. Even if Magnolia made it past the fans, she would be falling through the middle of an electrical storm. If she didn’t get fried, she would have to use her booster after she landed, to go right back into that same storm, which would screw with her beacon and comms. Finding her would be nearly impossible, and Jordan would never risk the ship in a storm for a diver anyway.
Michael gave himself a few seconds to catch his breath and take in the reality that he had probably seen the last of his friend. Rain and wind battered him as he hung there. When he looked up, the sky had cleared. They had passed the edge of the storm.
“Okay, we’re shutting the fans down now,” said a new voice over the comms. It sounded a lot like Katrina.
Jordan didn’t even have the guts to relay the message.
“Raptor One, what is your status?” Katrina asked. “Is everyone okay?”
Thirty seconds. Magnolia had needed only thirty fucking seconds, and then Michael and Layla could have pulleyed her up.
“With all due respect, no, we’re not okay,” Michael said. “Magnolia’s gone.” He wanted to say a good deal more, but he bit his lip and focused on his breathing.
Michael and Layla began climbing back to the relative safety of the access tunnel. Without Magnolia’s weight, the storm, and the suction of the turbofans, the ascent went smoothly.
“Magnolia, do you copy?” Michael asked as he climbed.
Static crackled over the channel.
Layla tried several times, but the only reply was more static.
They worked as a team, and when Michael got back to the tunnel, he grabbed the side, hooked a heel over the top, and pulled himself up. Inside, he turned and grabbed Layla. Her hands were shaking, and he put his arm around her, pulling her helmet against his chest. For a moment, they just sat there, holding each other, neither of them saying a word. A delta of lightning split the horizon in the distance, but the rain had subsided.
Wearily, he stood and helped Layla to her feet. They still had the third rudder to repair before they could return home—without Magnolia.
SIX
Magnolia held her toggles in a death grip as she hung from the suspension lines of her parachute. Her entire body was numb from the mix of adrenaline and raw fear. This was the fifth time she had come within spitting distance of death, and it never seemed to get easier. She could still see the blur of the turbofans trying to suck her into a vortex of whirring blades. A sudden gust had sent her cartwheeling. She had become disoriented in the fall, making it difficult to move into stable position.