"We'll only take one," I pant while gulping down shallow breaths of air as we run down the corridor.
Although my companions—save for Nelly, of course—weren't exactly enthusiastic about my logic of taking advantage of the situation, they've still been following me to the eastern ferry terminal. Luckily, that entrance to that is on the same level as the brig, and we just need to take one of the horizontal spokes leading from the central core of the base to the ring circling the exterior. Because both the core and its spokes are restricted to non-essential personnel, our going is unobstructed. That is, until we exit a door to the public space.
Dunstan's fire alarm has worked too well. Not only has he created a distraction—no one cares about us, only about saving themselves—it has also created chaos. We run straight into the middle of a mob, pushing and cursing, shoving and grumbling, trying to get to the ferry behind the closed metal doors.
"Are you sure you thought this through?" I ask Dunstan as he elbows his way to my side. Ray and I need to be the only pilots aboard the vessel and we cannot be taking more than our three vetted passengers. The people who are fleeing this mock emergency are definitely not getting a ride from me topside today. I've decided to not even try to take the other ferry—no matter how angry it'll make Bradford—to ease my guilt about the remotest possibility of permanently stranding them down here. But that's as generous as I'm willing to get.
He punches some commands into the tablet. "Just hold yer horses," he says before the incessant alarm finally comes to an end.
Almost immediately, the hundreds of people around us begin to calm. The throng becomes quiet and the people take a step back, diffusing the tension. After a few seconds of reassessing the situation, they start to disperse.
While they head away from the doors, we move closer to it. Dad swipes his wrist at the chip reader, but it doesn't take. He tries the keypad, too, but that also doesn't open the doors.
"A little help here," he says to Dunstan, but the mechanic looks perplexed.
"It's a no-go. I think they're on to me," he replies when the commands he punched into his tablet fail to have any success. "If we just got those doors open—"
As if by a magic incantation, his wish works and the steel doors to the east ferry gangway slide open. But instead of a straight shot down the enclosed walkway to the submersible craft, our path is blocked by five masked peacekeepers.
"One for each of us," I say, assessing our opponents while rolling up my sleeves. "We can take 'em."
"You want to fight our way out?" Nelly asks from beside me. Her tone is a mix between amused and impressed.
"Yeah. Just watch their stun guns," I say, pointing out the non-lethal, but temporarily debilitating devices that use electrical charges to shock non-compliant opponents many are holding in their hands. I've had the distinct displeasure of feeling the effects of one when I started pilot training, and I really, really don't want to experience that again. Muscle pain for two days and a headache that felt like a knife to the brain was not my idea of fun. I guess that's why they use them.
With five peacekeepers standing shoulder-to-shoulder blocking our way, we have no way to take the ferry without going through them. While Dad and Dunstan are still hanging back, Ray pushes his way past me.
"Sorry, guys," he says, apologizing to our anonymous antagonists, people we've lived with all our lives and are just doing their jobs as Lamer ordered. We don't want to hurt them as much as they probably don't want to hurt us, but here we both are. Barreling with his entire weight into the middle of the line, Ray's shoulder rams into the center guard's midsection, and they both go down with a thud.
After the pack has been broken, it's easier for the rest of us to regain focus. Nelly and I take the two on the left, while Dunstan and Dad go for the two on the right. I make sure to knock the stunner out of my opponent's grip before engaging in hand-to-hand combat. A fist makes contact with a jaw; too bad I'm the one on the receiving end of the blow. I counter with a knee to my attacker's groin, and he doubles over in pain. Nelly uses a fancy kick in the stomach to catch her opponent off-guard, sending him sliding on his butt down the floor.
From what I can see from the corner of my eye, the two adults with us are having a harder time. Neither Dad nor Dunstan is a fighter. They haven't had to train like the rest of us, and when Dad screams, I know he's gotten acquainted with the stun gun. We're now five on four, until Ray punches his guy so hard that the peacekeeper goes lights-out. Nelly is also quickly able to take her opponent out with his own stunner and I've got mine in a choke hold to come out on top, too, when the rhythmic pounding of footsteps getting increasingly closer draws our attention to the corridor.
Another group of peacekeepers in their dark uniforms is running toward us, but this time, we're clearly outnumbered at least two to one, maybe more.
"What do we do?" I ask of no one in particular, throwing the question out there for suggestions as I drop my attacker, now out cold.
Dunstan, who has been using his sheer size to fend off his smaller opponent, slides his tablet across the floor to me. "Code 1-2-9-3-2."
Without asking what the command will trigger, I pick up the device and punch in the numbers. Within two seconds, the fire alarm goes off again. The dozen or so peacekeepers are still advancing, but now with the added bonus of wailing sirens and flashing lights.
"What did you do that for?" I ask the mechanic in confusion.
Before he answers, the civilians who had just gotten far enough away to be ignorant of our ruckus start fleeing to the ferry again. Heeding the warning signals for the second time in mere minutes, they swarm the gangway from the spoke-like hallways off the main corridor or exit from stairwells. By returning, they've put an effective barrier between our advancing attackers and us.
"That's why," Dunstan mutters, clearly tired of my slowness to pick up his strategy. "Now open the hatch on the ferry, and let's get out of here."
While Ray and Nelly take care of the last two peacekeepers from the original bunch, I run to the end of the mobile tunnel connecting Vanguard to the submersible personnel carrier tethered to it. There's one more door here we need to get unlocked before we can take command of the vessel, but this—like most others on the base—is secured with a telemetric scanner coded to our embedded microchips. I'm tempted to question Dunstan's command again especially after Dad's chip failed to open the outside door, but decide against it. He must have fiddled with the security before passing me the tablet, or at the very least, have some sort of backup plan. When I swipe my wrist in front of the electronic pad on the wall, sure enough it flashes green momentarily before the doors slide open.
But there's no time to celebrate. This is still just one small step closer to our ultimate goal, and the rush of people evacuating is getting bigger by the second. There are many familiar faces, mostly the youngest and oldest residents of the base who are fleeing first. If this were a real emergency, the more able—both physically and through their technical know-how—would need to stay as long as possible to avert possible catastrophe. Little do they know that today is only a ruse.
Nelly and Dad emerge from the mêlée first. She's propping him up, hurrying past me and onto the ferry with a group of pre-teen kids. Craning my neck, I scan the crowd and also easily spot Ray towering over the increasingly chaotic scene. Behind him, Dunstan is pushing his way through, as gently as his bear-like stance will allow.
"False alarm, false alarm everyone," he's yelling, but it's of little use. Of course no one is listening to him. We've been taught that heeding these warnings could mean the difference between life and death. When he adds, "Go back to your rooms. Nothing to worry about here," it is promptly ignored.
I understand what he's trying to do. Anyone who makes it onto the ferry before we close the doors behind us will have to come topside. Perhaps we can bring them back down once things return to normal—or after we reach an agreement with Commander Lamer—but that is not our most important task.
"Take the helm, Will," Dunstan yells to me as he advances. "I'll lock 'er up here."
I nod in response and leave my post by the door. Inside the ferry, dozens of seats are already filled, their occupants belting themselves in for an emergency escape. Ignoring the awful feeling in my gut about possibly doing more harm than good, I head to the control room, instead. Ray has already taken his spot in the co-pilot's chair—unlike Skippers, ferries are ideally operated by two sailors—and he's waiting for me to power on the system.
"I don't have access," he says, swiping his wrist on the control module in vain.
Our hundreds of hours of training take over, and Ray and I silently go into the standard pre-checks. I know every second counts, but missing one step or ignoring a critical readout could lead us to the bottom of the ocean instead of to its surface. When we're almost done, I verify that the hull is airtight—thanks to Dunstan successfully closing the door to any more passengers—and flip the switch to release the gangway.
With a swoosh and a clank, the mobile passage between Vanguard and the ferry disengages, and we're left untethered. The dual, rear rotors are spinning, so for a moment we're floating in the same spot, until Ray takes the yoke, accelerates, and guides us away from the base. But no sooner are we outside Vanguard's protective sphere, we're met with four Skippers blocking our way.
I knew this wouldn't be easy. I also figured this would be our biggest obstacle. Lamer most likely sent his best pilots—other than me and Ray, of course—to head us off, so I'm not surprised when Murray hails me on the comms.
"Merman to Ferry East. Come in, Ferry East, over," he says.
"Merman, buddy, what's up? Over," I reply in my calmest voice, even though my brain is frantically processing every imaginable way out we have right now. It doesn't take long, since we don't have many. We could either go through the Skippers or try to turn and go around the other way. The problem is, they're much faster so by the time we changed directions, they could be right in front of us again. Outrunning them isn't an option, so at the very best, they would follow us all the way to our destination. I doubt that Lamer hasn't thought of some other way to stop us, and I don't like not knowing our true risks.
"You know what's up, Wilhelm. You've taken that craft without authorization, so I'm going to ask you one time to return to the terminal. Over," Murray says without a hint of amusement.
"Or what? You have no weapons. And we were never taught how to stop a rogue craft," I say, trying to get him to reveal his plan even as I type a set of coordinates into the navigation system.
"You'll have to dock eventually. We're just Lamer's eyes and ears. He's ready to deploy all the Skippers to meet you wherever you resurface," he says before adding the almost forgotten, "Over."
The door behind us swings open and Nelly enters the control room. "You wanna leave already? People are freaking out back there," she says, exasperated.
"Sure thing. Just cross your fingers that Mother Nature cooperates," I say before glancing back at her. "Oh, and you might want to sit down for this."
"What do you mean?" she asks, strapping herself into the extra jump seat in the cockpit.
I grin even as Ray shakes his head. He knows me too well. "You'll see," I say, pulling the yoke back.
The ferry lurches forward, heading directly at the middle of the four Skippers.
"Will," Nelly says cautiously, probably in an attempt to deter me. Ha! She obviously doesn't know me at all.
I don't respond, but instead keep course. At this rate, if the Skippers hold their position, we'll ram right into them.
"Will!" Nelly yells now in panic as the distance continues to decrease, but due to the size and shape of our craft, it's too late for me to veer away. Or at least that's what I want everyone to think.
Thankfully, my reputation as a hothead is well known among my fellow pilots, so Murray and the others don't take that chance. At almost the last second and with just about thirty yards separating us, they pull away, two-by-two in each direction, clearing the middle of the path for us to slide through.
Amateurs. I would have waited for at least another twenty feet before bugging out.
"Hell, yeah," Ray whoops from beside me, but Nelly isn't as forgiving.
"That was not funny," she grumbles between deep breaths, trying to maintain her composure after the close call.
I turn toward her. "It worked, didn't it?"
"Did it?" She points out the side window. In the control room, we have a one-eighty view of our surroundings, and there's no mistaking the Skipper gliding through the current fifty feet away on our left. There's one on our right, too and if I'd had to guess—I don't because my radar shows them well—there are also two on our tail.
"You're not known for your patience, are you?" I respond with another question, and she leans back in her seat, but not before giving me an irritated smirk.
I hold back a smile until I'm facing forward again. Although I would have preferred to show off my piloting skills to her under less extreme circumstances, as long as things work out, I'm not complaining. But we're not out of danger yet, and I don't mean from the Skippers.
For about twenty minutes, the going is uneventful. If I had been on a standard fishing run, I'd be bored out of my mind. As we near the coordinates I'd set earlier, I become increasingly agitated. Ray even gives me a disapproving look as my knee bobs up and down, but I do catch myself from tapping my fingers on the yoke before that gets annoying.
"You have a plan, right?" asks my co-pilot when I pull up data for water temperatures and current speed for the five hundred foot diameter around us.
I'd really like to tell Ray that I do have a plan, but by the clear sonar readout, it doesn't look to be materializing. Modifying our course, I turn the craft westward and figuratively cross my fingers. "Yup," I say.
"The shoreline is in the opposite direction," Ray says, trying to tease a proper answer out of me.
"Yup," I say again.
He sighs, but doesn't press further. Nelly also remains silent, and I'm getting a feeling of déjà vu of our earlier ride, especially when she exclaims, "Look! Another sea nettle."
Sure enough, the same orange colored jellyfish floats into view as the ones we swam into on our way to Vanguard.
My heart rate accelerates as I turn on the announcement system connecting into the passenger area. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking," I introduce myself with a bit too much enthusiasm. I've always wanted to say that, and in spite of our circumstances, it feels good. Hopefully this won't be my last chance. After a beat to let everyone settle down and listen, I continue. "Buckle up and brace yourselves. It may get a bit bumpy in a minute. But don't worry, everything is under control."
I end the feed, and glance at Ray who's staring at me. "What?" I ask.
"Bumpy?" he rebuts with a question.
I nod. "Trust me, bro."