Departure (21 page)

IN THE CARGO AREA OF THE TITAN AIRSHIP,
Nicholas and I stand next to Grayson and Oliver, two rows of people behind us—Titans, then survivors from Flight 305. We all wear the glass-tiled suits, only our heads revealed, our helmets tucked under our right arms. A second ship flies beside us, but it carries no passengers or cargo, only weapons. Using the panel on his arm, Nicholas pilots both ships. I watch as he programs the final autopilot instructions set to start when we depart. The long and short is that both of our ships will fight to the death, then pick up any survivors from our side—if we happen to make it out.

On the wide screen in the cargo hold, Titan City rises, sparkling in the moonlight. The placid Atlantic swells on one side, and on the other a dark, jagged valley waits, a sort of allegory for the precipice upon which we stand. Or fly, rather.

We rush toward the dam, the seconds to arrival counting down on the screen.

At the base of the hand, an airship rises into the sky. Our two ships are barreling between it and another airship that hovers several miles out, above the three landing craft bobbing in the Atlantic. One of the landing craft is already empty.

Nicholas steps out to address the group. “We can assume a third of the colonists were on that raft that was just evacuated to the city. Nothing changes. That leaves thirty-three hundred colonists out in the Atlantic—easily a large enough genetic pool for repopulation. If they arm the colonists in the city, we treat them as combatants. If they stand in your way, do what you have to do. We still deploy the explosives in the penstock at the base of the dam.”

The words stop me cold. Nicholas's eyes lock on mine. A flash of realization crosses his face. He speaks quickly, more gently.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I want to remind you one last time of the stakes. If we fail, if they reset that quantum bridge, we doom the world we Titans created, the world you passengers came from. We have to be willing to trade a few lives for the fate of billions.”

I remind myself: Isn't he doing what I did by the lake? Sacrificing some lives to save others? But just like before, I can't help feeling something's wrong here, something I can't put my finger on.

A blast rocks the ship, almost throwing Nicholas off his feet.

The screen reveals the battle outside. Our two airships are pounding the lone ship coming from Titan City. We circle it, hitting it with bolt after bolt of focused fire. It wobbles, returning fire as well as it can, trying to fight past us.

Nicholas and Oliver are taking their time destroying it. They're trying to lure the other ship out, the one that hovers over the colonists' landing vessels, but it doesn't budge. It's in the only safe place. We can't fire on it as long as it hovers above the colonists, can't risk debris falling on them—this world's last hope for a new human population.

On the screen, the enemy airship is finally succumbing to the assault. It hangs in midair, burning, circling, before crashing into the Atlantic.

A new wave of blasts rocks our ship—fire from the city. In the briefing, Nicholas told us that they fortified the dam and Titan City
during the war, that the aerial defenses were way too sophisticated for us to try to land, making an underwater attack our only option. He was right. We won't last long up here.

“Suit up!” Nicholas yells, marching to the rows of packs that hang on both walls.

I slip my arms through my pack, put my helmet on, and grab a rifle. The hologram inside the helmet materializes, Nicholas's face appearing before me. I'll never get used to this; it's as if I'm talking to myself.

“The propulsion vehicle in the pack is preprogrammed. Relax and hang on tight to your rifle. I'll see you on the other side.”

The floor below us sinks, revealing the moonlit sea. More blasts. I grab the wall, hanging on to the cargo net. The helmet shows the scene outside. Our other airship is covering us, standing firm between our ship and the city, taking the barrage full-on. It's on fire, a floating torch in the night. Just before the crack in the floor gets wide enough to exit, the ship covering for us crumbles and falls. Our own ship shudders as it takes fire, throwing half our people to the metal floor.

Nicholas races forward, dives through the small opening, and I follow.

Serenity. Nothingness.

Falling.

Fire above me. Moonlight on the glass sea below me. A faint thundering in my chest, my heart beating or the battle in the sky, I'm not sure which.

As the water rushes up, my fall slows. How?

The rotors in the pack must work in the air and underwater. They slow me, and I hit the water gently, the suit taking only the slightest impact. Below the surface, they reverse, propelling me forward, pulling me under. I follow my last instruction: Hang on to your rifle.

Darkness. Only the deep. The seconds seem to stretch out like hours. What will it be like, the fight in the towers?

I'm comfortable telling people what to do, making decisions in the moment. I've learned that about myself. The question is, can I take a life? How would I even know? No amount of training prepares you for this—and it's not like I've had a ton of training.

I feel my course adjusting.

The glass inside my helmet flickers, a night-vision filter rendering the dark depths in a grainy, green image.

We're forming up. Nicholas is ahead, the point of our underwater dart, two dozen zooming suits racing to the bottom of the dam.

Ahead, a giant gate looms, the lattice tight enough to keep fish (and humans) out. The intake. The gate opens for us—Nicholas's access codes still work. We swim down the descending slope of the penstock, a dark underwater ramp with no end sight. A minute later, the glowing green image reveals the turbine, a boat motor half the size of a football field. The sight of the blades sends a chill through me.

But they're still. I feel myself exhale, and I push harder, swimming deeper into the tunnel.

This was the test. Nicholas's plan was to turn the turbines off with his remote access, and if they didn't respond, to disable them with explosives. The advance probes were right: they're off. We're safe.

Nicholas's face appears in my helmet . . . but his words are sucked away.

No, I am.

The pull—the turbine is spinning to life, its lights flooding the shaft. The water around me is a vacuum, dragging me deeper down the ramp, into the churning blades.

It's a trap.

INSIDE THE THIRD-FLOOR LAB, THE SCREEN THAT DISPLAYED
the brain scan splits. I watch the two charred airships take off from the base of Titan City and race over the Atlantic. They stop at the three life rafts and hover.

“The colonists,” I whisper, studying the screen. “Why?”

“To protect us. If we can get them to the city, we can prevent Nicholas and Oliver from destroying it and the quantum device.”

She doesn't add
and us
,
but we're all thinking it.

The drama unfolds on the screen as Yul, Sabrina, and I watch.

One of our airships recovers the colonists from the first raft and deposits them here at the base of the towers. It heads back to the landing site, but before it can make it there, two more airships arrive. They fire on our returning ship, destroying it before taking fire from the city. Glittering specks spill out of the second ship into the sea. What are they? Then I realize: suited Titans. Nick. Hopefully. But as Sabrina said, I don't know that. He could already be dead, left at Heathrow . . . replaced.

Yul gets up from the white table. He's recovered some, the focused look back in his eyes.

Sabrina pulls her left sleeve back, preps her arm, and injects herself with a syringe lying on the raised metal table. Without a word, she hops on the platform, and it starts sliding into the machine.

Yul punches a control panel as the massive machine swallows Sabrina up. The frozen image of Yul's brain on the split screen gives way to a new set of lobes. Waves of color wash over it.

“The mapping procedure takes about an hour,” says Yul.

The floor rattles below us, and the other half of the screen blinks red.

Overhead, a new alarm blares out.

I'm not sure we
have
an hour.

As if thinking the same thing, Yul grabs my arm, pulling me to the swinging glass door, but I throw off his grip.

“Where are we going?”

“To hide, Harper.”

I glance back at the machine that encloses Sabrina.

“We can't leave her—”

“We have to, Harper. He's after you.”

“I haven't been scanned.”

“It'll have to wait. They're in the power plant now. We have to hurry.”

THIS HAS BEEN THEIR PLAN
all along: cat and mouse. Once Nicholas has me, he won't hesitate to bring this place down. He has no intention of preserving the lives here. Once he's captured me, he'll destroy the dam, the quantum device, and anyone else in the city along with it.

Alarms shriek all around us as Yul leads me to the residential wing—the little finger of the five towers, to the far right of the complex. I explored some of it earlier, but only looked into a few apartments.

“Any preference?” Yul asks.

“Where will we be the safest?”

“At a random place. He'll probably search my apartment, and Sabrina's, and his.”

I nod.

As we move through the posh, carpeted, wood-paneled halls, Yul places small silver cylinders on the floor.

“What are those?” I ask.

“Mines.”

“For what?”

“Nicholas will send nano drones to make an infrared scan. These will destroy them. Buy us some time.”

He isn't through buying time. At each apartment we pass, he walks inside and turns the shower on, setting the temperature to max. Steam fills the bathrooms and drifts out into the bedrooms and corridors. Clever. I don't know if the steam and heat will fool the Titan sensors, but condensation will coat the suits, making them visible. My mind flashes back to the crash site, to that dark night when the rain poured down, revealing the Titans racing to the plane like glass figurines.

Halfway up the tower, Yul pauses at a bathroom. “This is as good a spot as any.”

“All right.”

“One last thing, Harper. Only Sabrina and I know where the quantum device is.” He pauses. “And there's a chance neither of us, none of the Titans here, will survive the night. But you will. Nicholas wants you alive. I think you should know where the device is and how to activate it. Try to get to it if the worst happens.”

He tells me where the device is and how to reset the quantum bridge. I listen, nodding like I'm being inducted into a secret order, which is sort of true—Yul finally letting me in on his and Sabrina's circle of secrets.

He moves to the door.

“Wait! Are you—”

“I'm going to finish, then see if I can help with the defense.”

As if on cue, explosions erupt in the adjacent tower, sending vibrations through the floor.

“What's the best-case scenario here, Yul?”

He glances away. “Best case? We contain the threat tonight, then spend the time we really need figuring out the science to get the memory transmission right. Maybe a few years, a decade, however long it takes. Then we go back to 2015 with a real shot at remembering.”

“How likely is that—winning tonight?”

“Pretty good.”

He's lying, but I don't object. The steam in the well-lit marble-floored bathroom engulfs us now, a blanket that hides our faces, allowing us both to lie with less effort.

“Overall, we have the numbers,” he says, now a disembodied voice in the fog. “But the colonists won't take up arms. Which means Nicholas and Oliver's team has us two to one in armed manpower, assuming their people survived the trap in the power station.”

“What are their orders? For Nick, if they see him?”

“Nicholas, Nick, there's no way to know, Harper. It's shoot on sight for any of the Titans entering the city.”

So that's containment.

“It's not so bad, Harper. If this works, you'll see Nick again in 2015.”

And he'll be a stranger. It will be as if we had never met, as if none of this ever happened.

“Stay put. I'll be back,” Yul says, his voice fading as he leaves the room.

I take a seat on the floor, stretching my legs out on the cool marble. The warm steam feels good, a contrast to the chill on the bottoms of my legs. I run my hands down my calves, over where the infected gash used to be. Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back against the wall, willing myself to relax. Some time later, the first tremors from the blasts run through the floor.

FOR A MOMENT, THE LIGHT FROM ABOVE THE
turbine is blinding. It cuts through the murky darkness like a giant searchlight. The turbine gains speed, and the beam transforms into a strobe light, outlining our twenty-four-person force like an underwater rave. We're spread out, dark, floating spots of ink in the water, flowing with the current, helpless.

I spread my arms, trying to swim back up the penstock, but it's futile. The walls are concrete here, smooth. There are no ladders or grates to grab onto, just a featureless shaft leading to the flashing turbine. I gain speed, rushing downward. My heart pounds. Sweat breaks out across my face, and I give up, stop pumping my arms and legs. I reach for the control panel on my forearm, desperately trying to activate the underwater propulsion system. The autopilot route that brought me here is disengaged, and I have no idea how to work it manually—our crash course in Titan technology didn't cover it.

Above me, I see the first inkblot disappear into the flashing light.
The turbine didn't stop, didn't even slow down. The flashing grows faster. Who was the figure? Mike? Nicholas? Oliver? Grayson? Another. Then another member of our team disappears into flashing lights, the giant blades shredding them with no remorse, no hesitation.

I try to focus on my arm, try to ignore the pull. The propulsion pack sputters to life, pulling against the turbine's vortex. My descent slows but doesn't stop. I accelerate to maximum. An energy warning flashes, and I dismiss it. I glance up in time to see another figure disappear into the light.

I've slowed, but not enough; I'm still sinking, my fate only delayed.

Around me, I see other figures floating, their descent velocity matching mine. We'll be the last to die.

A figure drifts down to the turbine, slower than the first people taken, the propulsion system clearly engaged. Two objects are pulled away from their hands. It's not a rifle—

The explosion propels me back. My helmet display goes offline. I slam into the wall, roll, the air knocked out of me. I try to suck a breath, but it's no use. It's quiet now. I feel debris brushing past me.

A hand grabs my arm, and I feel someone turning me around. My helmet display is offline, but through the clear glass, I'm staring at myself—at Nicholas. His suit must be offline as well. He mouths the words
stay here,
then releases me and kicks into the now dark water.

A second later, I see a small light flick on from his wrist. It rakes across the darkness and I get my first glimpse of the carnage. Pieces of the turbine drift past, motionless, suited figures mixed in with the scraps of black metal.

One by one, members of our team swim toward me, and we link arms, pressing ourselves against the smooth concrete wall.

Nicholas returns and hands me a rifle (I dropped mine in my rush to activate the propulsion system). He moves down the row, passing out rifles and tapping at each person's forearm. He's looking for someone with a working suit. Why? What's his plan? With the turbine off, we can swim into the power plant above it—we don't need the packs to swim the rest of the way.

I peer down the row. We are sixteen strong now. Eight people—a full third of our force—perished here. And we haven't even reached
our enemy yet. Our long odds have just become impossible odds. I try not to think about that. I'm glad we're in a line, glad we can't see each other's faces.

Nicholas is before me again, signaling, but I can't make out anything. I think he wants me to stay back. He points to my rifle, then pulls his own rifle close to his body, holding it tight. I get it:
hold on to your rifle
. My stomach turns, and I feel my mouth go dry. I swallow hard but it doesn't help.

Nicholas faces the group now. He points to the light on his wrist, turns it off then on, then draws a line across his throat.
Keep your light off
.

Nicholas motions to two others, and they kick away, descending fast, leaving us in the darkness.

A minute later, through the faint light, I see someone break from the line. A wrist light illuminates the face: Oliver. He motions for us to follow and kills his light. We huddle close, holding our rifles, kicking with our legs, a school of fish diving in the darkness.

We reach the turbine, what's left of it, and have to pass single file through the web of jagged metal. On the other side, I can just make out Nicholas and the two others waiting above us. When the last of our group clears the turbine, the two Titans with Nicholas activate their propulsion units, apparently at maximum velocity, because they surge toward the surface, clearing the water.

Weapons fire crisscrosses the chamber above, but I only hear faint echoes, then a cascade of thunder—two explosions. The force sweeps gently through the water. The divers deployed the explosives above the water. They were clearing the opening.

Oliver motions for us, and we're kicking again, rushing to the surface, rifles at the ready. Just before we reach the surface, gunfire rakes across the room, into the water. The two divers activate their packs again, rushing to the sources of the shots. Two more explosions, smaller than the first, and the room is quiet again.

When I clear the water, I feel an arm grip my forearm, pulling me out. Mike. I scramble out of the way, and he pulls the next person up. There are two entrances to the domed chamber, and I raise my rifle, ready to fire, scanning the room. Bodies are strewn across the metal
floor, a dozen at least. A few moving, trying to push up. A shot from the darkness catches the Titan beside me full in the chest. I raise my rifle and fire without hesitation. My first shot ricochets off the wall, but my second brings the man down. I watch, but he doesn't move. And neither do I. I stare at the man, my breath filling the helmet, fog blotting him out, as if trying to erase what just happened.

I tear the helmet off in time to see one of our Titans rushing to one of the openings. He tosses something, a ball that bounces off the walls, the sound of metal on metal. The dark mouth of the corridor breathes fire when it explodes. A second later the other corridor explodes, and I hear someone yell “Clear!” behind me. Then they race around the room, inspecting the fallen enemy combatants, kicking weapons into the water.

Titans cover the two entrances, their rifles at the ready, while Nick addresses us. “There are two ways up: the power plant and the maintenance tunnels. The tunnels will be harder to pass: they're more narrow and easier to defend—or booby-trap. The power plant offers more open areas to fight, fewer choke points, and more opportunities to bypass resistance if you meet it. Oliver, you'll take the bulk of the group. I'll take two Titans.” He motions to the two divers who set off the explosions that allowed us to surface. “We'll try the maintenance tunnels.”

Oliver shakes his head. “Nicholas—”

“There's a chance they've ignored the tunnels.”

“It's suicide,” Oliver says.

“We have to take the chance. This is what we're doing.” Nicholas's voice is final, but not condescending. I see myself, hear myself by the lake a few days ago.

The group breaks, and Oliver begins giving us a quick rundown of the power plant, planning angles of attack and contingencies.

Nicholas takes the diver propulsion pack from one of the operational suits, replacing his damaged unit, then heads toward me, ushering me away from the group. “You have a much better shot at reaching the quantum device than I do.”

He waits, then glances at the unmoving soldier in the opening. “If the time comes, you can't hesitate.”

“I won't.”