“We’re making good time,” Mac said. “At this rate, we’ll be there in less than twenty-four hours.”
“We’re ready,” X said.
“More than ready,” Rodger added. “I’m going to find that murdering witch and then I’m going to burn her alive.”
THIRTY
“All hands, approaching target. ETA fifteen minutes,” said Les.
He put the handset back in its cradle. This was the moment they all had been waiting for—the moment he had visualized since Trey’s death.
Almost sixty hours into their journey, they were nearing their destination above Tanzania, the home of the machines. If all went to plan, they would deploy Cricket in a few moments for a first glimpse at a zone no one had laid eyes on in decades.
“Skies are clear, Captain,” Eevi said. She twisted from her station. “Only minimal storms from here to Mount Kilimanjaro, and zero sign of hostile contacts on radar.”
“Captain Rolo reported the same thing: clear skies, then…” Les suddenly had a feeling he knew exactly what had happened to the airship that crossed the ocean before Discovery.
“Timothy, you have the ship,” he ordered. “Keep us in the cloud cover, all systems in stealth mode. “Samson, everything looking good with the weapons systems?”
The lead engineer stood over a station. He coughed into a hankie and glanced up.
“Sorry,” he grumbled. “This damn—”
He coughed again into the handkerchief.
“All weapons are primed and ready,” he finally said. “And we have our defensive flares ready to deploy.”
“Good. I’m heading down to oversee the launch of Cricket.”
Samson went back to coughing, and Eevi turned to her monitor.
The closed hatches in the passage leading from the bridge reminded Les of all the people who had lived here after Michael and his team found the ship at the Hilltop Bastion. It was no longer a life barge. It was a weapon.
By the time Les arrived at the launch bay, the two teams of Hell Divers were suited up and ready. Michael crouched in the center of the open space, working on Cricket with Alfred and another tech. Two open crates of tools lay on the floor next to the crates of machine guns and blasters.
“Captain on deck,” Ted said.
“Not a captain now,” Les said. “As you were.” He thumped the Team Phoenix logo on the breastplate of his Hell Diver armor. “I’m one of you all.”
Ted, Arlo, Sofia, Edgar, Hector, and Lena all formed a line beside Michael. They looked ready for battle. They wore bandoliers of shotgun shells and armor-piercing rounds, and blasters and knives were sheathed on their hips. Vests over their armor held extra magazines and grenades.
Edgar, the best marksman of them all, had a slung sniper rifle that fired the armor-piercing rounds—the same model of weapon that Erin Jenkins had used to take down several machines at Red Sphere.
But there was one thing they lacked. Only one precious EMP grenade remained in their stockpile. Michael had it in his gear. He also carried the one laser rifle and one of the USB sticks containing the virus that would reprogram the machines. Les carried the other.
They looked like two teams of special-operations soldiers from the Old World. But if they did dive, they would face an enemy designed to be a more efficient killer than any special-forces soldier ever to walk the earth.
“We’re ready to dive, sir,” Michael said.
“Indeed, you are,” Les replied. “How is Cricket coming along?”
“We’re making some last-minute changes to his system that will lighten his carbon signature and maybe keep him invisible.”
Michael tapped his wrist computer, and the robot chirped. The hover nodes spun, but without the glow of before.
“He’ll have to move slow on the surface,” Alfred said. “There’s not much we can do about the exhaust from his thrusters.”
The divers all followed the drone across the open space. Les walked over to the portholes by the launch-bay doors. It was the middle of the afternoon, but the sky was a deep charcoal gray, with no hint of sunshine bleeding through.
“Timothy, take us down to fifteen thousand feet,” Les ordered into the headset. “Slowly and cautiously—first sign of any hostile contact, you haul ass out of here.”
“Understood, sir.”
Les went to his locker and carefully peeled the giraffe picture Phyl had drawn off the metal door. She had added a mother and two baby giraffes to the image. It was the only picture of his family he had.
With the utmost care, he tucked the piece of paper into his vest. Then he walked back to grab a blaster from the crate. He sheathed it and started the manual process of checking his systems.
The airship switched to turbofans, lowering through the sky without a lick of turbulence against the hull.
“Phoenix One, online,” Les said.
“Phoenix Two, online,” Ted said.
“Phoenix Three, good to go,” Edgar added.
“Me, too,” Lena said. “I mean, Phoenix Four, ready.”
Team Raptor went through the same routine with Michael, Arlo, Sofia, and Hector all confirming that their systems were working properly.
“What did you paint on your dome?” Lena asked Arlo.
“Thunder and lightning,” he replied. “My two different nicknames.”
“Who’s calling you ‘Lightning’ now?” Michael asked.
Arlo smirked, exposing a missing tooth. “I believe she actually called me ‘el relámpago.’ ”
“Gross,” Sofia said. “And I think you mean ‘el poco peso,’ as in ‘lightweight.’ ”
“Okay, let’s get serious, people,” Les said. He appreciated a little humor to take the edge off before the mission, but they were in enemy territory, on what could be a turning point for humanity.
“Eevi, how’s it looking up there?” Les asked over the comms.
“Sir, I’m picking up some sort of heat signatures on the surface.”
Les looked out the portholes and saw nothing through the darkness but clouds. The other divers tried to get a glimpse of the ground.
At eighteen thousand feet, Les turned to the techs, who were going through final prep on Cricket with Michael. They checked the newly installed cameras and each of the jointed mechanical limbs. Two of the extensions were made of scrap metal, but they looked secure.
“I don’t like sending Cricket in without any weapons,” Michael said to Les.
“Not a lot he can do against the machines, anyway, right?” Edgar said.
“He sure kicked some skinwalker ass and saved our hides from them back in Rio, but this time he’s just doing recon.” Michael patted the robot.
“Nearing launch altitude,” Samson reported over the comms. “All noncritical systems are ready to go dark on your mark, Captain.”
“Stand by,” Les said.
“That also means no external comm use unless necessary. Everything is internal for now,” Les said. “Everyone got it?”
“Ted, Arlo, I want to see nods,” Michael said.
Both helmets dipped.
Les waited another moment before he gave the order.
The lights winked off throughout the ship, leaving the launch bay in near darkness. Emergency lights came on, emitting a red glow in the corners of the room.
Michael patted Cricket on the back as he might a human friend. “Be careful down there, buddy,” he said. “I know you’ll make me proud again.”
Cricket chirped as it hovered toward the launch-bay doors.
“Alfred and team, get back to the secure area,” Les ordered. “Rest of you, behind the red line.”
The technicians followed Alfred’s flashlight to the exit as Les moved behind the red line with the other divers.
The AI’s hologram appeared in the middle of the launch bay, but even it was dimmed almost to invisibility.