Santiago didn’t answer.
A blowtorch burst to life. The marines began to melt the edge of the door to the frame.
“Sir!” one of the workers shouted from the back of the room. “This air vent could lead down to the lifeboats.”
“What good are lifeboats against those Aeternum ships?” George said.
“They might be small enough to escape unnoticed,” Santiago said. “And since they’re sail powered, they shouldn’t attract those mosasaurs.” He motioned to the workers. “Go!”
They dropped to their knees and began unscrewing the air vent grate in the wall.
A burly hand fell on Diego’s shoulder. “Come on, kid,” Stan Angelino, Dad’s foreman, said. He pulled Diego toward the vent.
“Wait, no!” Diego shouted.
“We’ve got it!” one of the workers shouted, tearing away the grating while the other began to slide his feet down into the airshaft.
“Let go!” Diego said.
“Can’t do it,” Stan said. “Your father ordered me to get you to safety.”
“I want to stay here!” Diego said. He turned and found Santiago across the room. Dad nodded at him, his face stern.
“Go. That’s an order.”
“I—”
Small-caliber bullets smashed against the armor of the command center door. The door shuddered under the pounding. The gunfire ceased, and there was a moment of silence, and then the sound of groaning metal as the assault robot tore the bulkhead door out.
“Come on,” Stan whispered. Diego didn’t protest. He dropped to his knees beside Stan, grabbed the edge of the vent, and pushed himself in, feetfirst.
“Here.” Stan handed him the grate for the vent. “I’m going to help hold them off,” he whispered, and darted away into the smoke.
Diego slid until his shoulders were through, then twisted back around and replaced the grate. He couldn’t screw it into place, but he leaned it as flush with the wall as he could just before—
Gunfire cracked. Shouts echoed. Cries of pain. The smoke began to dissipate, and Diego saw shadows darting back and forth.
He spied his father standing beside Captain Halsey, a handgun raised. They were flanked by two marines, with the other engineers and George behind them, all using the station’s control console as cover.
Diego began to shimmy backward. His feet left metal over the vertical shaft that he would need to climb down.
And yet he didn’t move. He couldn’t.
He kept peering out the grate. A marine lay on the floor nearby, unmoving. There was a flash: the gleam of the Aeternum warrior’s sword. He wanted to call out to his dad, but he couldn’t risk it.
Shouts. More gunshots. Fists colliding, the thumps of bodies hitting the floor. The smoke was almost gone now, and Diego saw another man step through the doorway, making no effort to defend himself.
“Santi, my boy,” the man called, “we can kill everyone in here, or you can show yourself. One of those two options sounds much easier.”
Don’t do it, Dad, Diego thought, but he heard footsteps, and his father stepped out from behind the control consoles.
“Hello, Balthus,” Santiago said. “I wish this were a surprise.”
Balthus Tintoretto smiled at Santiago and raised a gun toward him. “Oh come on. No hug for an old friend?”
Santiago lowered his gun. “If it’s me you want, then take me. But leave the rest of these innocents alone.”
Diego glimpsed a shadow, a figure slipping up behind Santiago. He wanted to call out—but the man had a sword against Santiago’s throat in less than a second.
“No one is innocent,” the man said.
Diego recognized the Roman battle armor from the news reports, and he saw the Aeternum symbol etched in gold on the man’s uniform: a Roman sword facing up, with a bow facing down.
“Hello, Magnus,” Santiago said tightly against the blade.
“Still the compassionate fool,” Magnus said. “Some things never change.”
“No, Magnus,” Santiago grunted. “I can see that they don’t.”
It was all Diego could do not to scream. Why was his father speaking to the leaders of the Aeternum, the vilest enemies known to this world, like they knew each other?
“The time has finally come,” Magnus said, lowering the blade but only to place the point against the small of Santiago’s back, “to complete the great work that we started together so long ago, back when you had purpose!”
More Aeternum soldiers swept into the room.
“It’s me you want,” Santiago said. “Leave my people be.”
“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” Balthus said. “We’ll be needing all your engineers for our cause.”
The soldiers rounded up George Sr., Georgie, and about a dozen of Santiago’s engineers, and marched them toward the door.
A soldier appeared before Santiago, holding a set of chained cuffs.
“Hold out your hands, brother,” Magnus said. “Just need to be sure you don’t have any heroics left in you.”
Diego watched his father raise his arms, heard the cuffs click around his wrists. He held his breath, fighting the urge to leap out, but it would be pointless. He’d only be captured as well.
And suddenly he realized: Dad knew they were coming for him.
Balthus turned to leave. Magnus gave Santiago a shove, and he moved to the door.
The room shuddered, and Diego heard a distant whine of metal. This place was still in danger of collapsing into the sea.
The shaking loosened dust in the vent. Diego tried to hold his nose, but a cough slipped out of him.
Magnus froze. He turned and peered around the room. His cold, ruthless stare fell on the grating, studying it. . . .
He stepped toward the vent, tapping his sword against the floor.
Diego couldn’t move, couldn’t think—
“Magnus.” Balthus was back at the door. “We need to depart.”
Magnus nodded. “Of course.” He glanced again at the grating and then strode out of the room.
It was some time before Diego could bring himself to move. When he finally did, he carefully lifted the grate aside, crawled out of the vent, and then collapsed against the wall and began to cry. His body shivered, all his fear pouring out of him, his face in his hands.
A horn sounded from out on the water. Diego dragged himself to his feet and hurried onto the deck. The three Aeternum ships were sweeping back out to sea.
He pictured his father on board, maybe in a cell, in chains.