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Into the Storms: A Hell Divers Prequel, page 1

 

Into the Storms: A Hell Divers Prequel
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Into the Storms: A Hell Divers Prequel


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  BOOKS BY THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR NICHOLAS SANSBURY SMITH

  HELL DIVERS

  Prequels

  Into the Storms: A Hell Divers Prequel

  Burning Skies: A Hell Divers Prequel, Part II

  Main Series

  Hell Divers

  Hell Divers: The Lost Years, Part I: X and Miles (novella)

  Hell Divers II: Ghosts

  Hell Divers III: Deliverance

  Hell Divers IV: Wolves

  Hell Divers V: Captives

  Hell Divers VI: Allegiance

  Hell Divers VII: Warriors

  Hell Divers VIII: King of the Wastes

  Hell Divers IX: Radioactive

  Hell Divers X: Fallout

  Hell Divers XI: Renegades

  Hell Divers XII: Heroes

  Side Stories

  Rhino: The Rise of a Warrior

  SONS OF WAR

  Sons of War

  Sons of War 2: Saints

  Sons of War 3: Sinners

  Sons of War 4: Soldiers

  ORBS

  Solar Storms (an Orbs prequel)

  White Sands (an Orbs prequel)

  Red Sands (an Orbs prequel)

  Orbs

  Orbs II: Stranded

  Orbs III: Redemption

  Orbs IV: Exodus

  E-DAY

  E-Day

  E-Day II: Burning Earth

  E-Day III: Dark Moon

  GALAXY IN FLAMES

  The Last Steward

  The Last Ship

  The Last Lion

  EXTINCTION CYCLE (SEASON ONE)

  Extinction Horizon

  Extinction Edge

  Extinction Age

  Extinction Evolution

  Extinction End

  Extinction Aftermath

  Extinction Lost (a Team Ghost short story)

  Extinction War

  EXTINCTION CYCLE: DARK AGE (SEASON TWO)

  Extinction Shadow

  Extinction Inferno

  Extinction Ashes

  Extinction Darkness

  TRACKERS (SEASON ONE)

  Trackers

  Trackers 2: The Hunted

  Trackers 3: The Storm

  Trackers 4: The Damned

  NEW FRONTIER (TRACKERS SEASON TWO)

  New Frontier: Wild Fire

  New Frontier 2: Wild Lands

  New Frontier 3: Wild Warriors

  STANDALONE TITLES

  Savage Skies (a sci-fi novella)

  The Biomass Revolution

  INTO THE STORMS

  A HELL DIVERS PREQUEL

  NICHOLAS SANSBURY SMITH

  Copyright © 2025 by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  E-book published in 2025 by Blackstone Publishing

  Cover art by K. Jones

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious.

  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental

  and not intended by the author.

  Trade e-book ISBN 979-8-8748-1641-4

  Fiction / Science Fiction / Apocalyptic & Post-Apocalyptic

  Blackstone Publishing

  31 Mistletoe Rd.

  Ashland, OR 97520

  www.BlackstonePublishing.com

  To Lester Watts, the real-life “Bull,” a truly remarkable man whom I am blessed to know. Thank you for everything you have taught me, Lester.

  “The day of wrath, that dreadful day, shall melt the world in ashes.”

  —DIES IRAE, MEDIEVAL LATIN HYMN

  CONTENTS

  To the fans

  I. Origins

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  II. Peace

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  III. Return to Hell

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  IV. Shadowy Forces

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  V. The Blackout

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Stay tuned for Part 2, coming 2026.

  Before you go

  About the Author

  To the fans,

  For years now, many readers have been asking for a detailed account of how the dark, gritty world of the Hell Divers came to be. Over that time, I contemplated how best to tell this tale. Finally, in 2024, after a talk with the CEO of Blackstone Publishing, I made a decision. This would be a multibook story, the first documenting how Industrial Tech Corporation (ITC) rose to power and how the fall occurred, forcing humanity to take to the skies. The sequels will document the struggles and tribulations of the survivors trying to stay alive in a brutal, dangerous new world.

  To orient new readers, below is an introduction to the world of Hell Divers. Thank you for jumping in. I’m excited that you are giving my story a go!

  The main storyline is the twelve-book series that explores the terrifying new postapocalyptic reality, both in airships and on the ground. Although the number of books may seem daunting, they will quickly carry you along as the saga begins to unfold. Don’t take my word for it. Hell Divers is one of the highest-rated apocalyptic series of modern times, with over one hundred thousand five-star reviews on Audible, and millions of copies sold. Readers from around the world have joined Xavier Rodriguez, “the Immortal,” and his allies in their thrilling battles to save the world.

  But before you decide whether to dive into the main storyline, I want you to meet Santiago “the Bull” Rodriguez, Xavier’s great-great-great-great-great-grandfather.

  Strap in. You’re about to go on a ride and may experience symptoms such as lack of sleep and long talks with friends about the surprising plot twists and what they mean for the fates of many compelling characters.

  The story, set in a terrifying postapocalyptic world where no one is safe, is meant to be realistic. My goal as the writer is to make you ask yourself, What would I do to keep those I love alive?

  I hope you enjoy the dives!

  All the best,

  Nick

  PART ONE

  ORIGINS

  PROLOGUE

  June 1, 2035

  The Seoul Wastelands

  A fully armed soldier’s average survival time against a Triton war machine was one minute. Hell Squad had been cheating death for six months, but as Sergeant Santiago Rodriguez stared out over the ruins of Seoul, he wondered whether, after two years of fighting, their luck was finally running out.

  Santiago ducked under the overhead of a Wasp tilt-rotor aircraft, preparing with his squad for insertion over Seoul at twelve thousand feet. Below them stretched a desolate cityscape. The once-vibrant streets of the megacity were now reduced to rubble with, here and there, a skyscraper standing empty and skeletal, casting its long shadow in the crimson glow of the setting sun.

  Twenty-five months ago, the North Koreans and their Iranian allies formed an alliance called the Triton Legion. Their first action was to send a wave of their war machines stampeding over the demilitarized zone, threatening a global war in an arms race for the deadliest machine.

  But it hadn’t started this way. Ten years ago, Santiago had been a soldier in the Mexican Special Forces, battling the cartels, oblivious to the threat of artificial intelligence. Back then, machines existed to aid in all sorts of human endeavors. The rise of artificial intelligence promised a future of unparalleled prosperity. But as the machines grew smarter, greedy corporations put profits first. AI replaced humans in every facet of business and industry, from the factory floor to the corner office, leading to rampant unemployment and a global depression by which even the darkest days of the twentieth century paled in comparison. As economies crumbled, desperation

gave rise to conflict, and machines originally designed as tools were repurposed for the battlefield.

  Korea had become that battlefield in the contest for AI supremacy. The entire world had been drawn in, and the Western powers created the Joint Military Forces (JMF) and an AI designed by Industrial Tech Corporation named Orion. The most advanced computer ever designed, it was now tasked with helping defeat the Triton Legion and its AI, CrioX.

  The aircraft lurched slightly. Santiago checked his teammates, now racked in against the bulkhead, whom he was responsible for keeping alive. Beside him in the launch bay sat big, freckle-faced Corporal Alistair Smith. Weighing in at 280 pounds, the young Brit held a light machine gun with two ammo belts slung over his shoulders.

  To his right sat Sergeant David Moody, at forty-three the oldest member of the squad. The sharpshooter from Alabama held his .50-caliber sniper rifle with care that seemed almost maternal.

  Santiago looked to Sergeant Nodin Tatanka, of the Spokane Tribe. He was Santiago’s closest friend and served as the unit’s machine tracker and tech specialist.

  Nodin studied the data coming in on his rugged R-8 tactical scanner equipped with high-resolution imaging, thermal sensors, and 3D-mapping capabilities to provide intel quickly and accurately from the battlefield.

  Near him stood the squad leader—lean, muscular Lieutenant Yosef Stern, who went by his first name. The Israeli had dark hair and sharp features. He leaned against the cockpit bulkhead, gazing out the viewport.

  Each team member wore ballistic armor customized to his individual build. Over their neoprene suits and ballistic combat jackets, they wore a hydraulic-powered exoskeleton. This external armor was made of durable titanium with carbon-fiber plating and protected critical areas such as chest, back, and limbs. The limb joints were powered by high-torque nanomotor actuators, allowing the operator to move fast over rough terrain, jump to impressive heights, and land with shock-absorbing mechanisms. It also allowed them to lift several times their body weight and gave them the strength of the killer machines that had taken over the battlefield.

  To the untrained eye, they looked like warriors forged for a new era of war, but they were still no match for machines that fought without emotion, never growing tired, hungry, or downhearted.

  At the end of the day, the same thing that made Hell Squad human had rendered them obsolete in war.

  “Listen up!” Yosef shouted over the racket of the tilt-rotor engines. “Our mission is to recon and gather intel on new enemy units reported in Sector Echo-Four,” he said. “Command lost contact with Raven Squad, who were sent in twelve hours ago. We’re to locate them and confirm the existence and strength of these new enemy assets.”

  “Any idea what we’re dealing with?” Santiago asked in his rough, Spanish-accented baritone.

  “Preliminary reports suggest upgraded Tritons, possibly with enhanced capabilities, but satellite imagery is compromised due to enemy jamming.”

  “Bloody hell,” Alistair muttered.

  The team fell silent, each trooper taking these last moments for himself. Santiago thought of his wife, Tina, and their infant son, Diego, back in Mexico City. He hadn’t met his boy yet, and prayed he would finally get the chance. Someday, if he was lucky, maybe he could move his young family to San Diego, where his uncle had already settled after serving two tours in the JMF.

  “Two minutes to DZ,” the pilot announced over their comms.

  “Final gear check!” Yosef commanded.

  Santiago secured his assault rifle and double-checked the grenades clipped to his vest. He felt the weight of the EMP charges in his pack—a precaution against the machines, and their best defense in combat.

  “Remember: We’re here to observe and report,” Yosef emphasized. “Engage only if necessary. Our primary objective is intel, and extraction of survivors from Raven Squad.”

  The Wasp descended vertically, closing in on their targeted drop altitude.

  “Hell’s front line!” Yosef shouted.

  Hell Squad repeated the motto as the aft cargo hatch, which they would soon be jumping from, cranked open to the last glint of sun vanishing on the horizon.

  Right on time.

  Santiago said a silent prayer. Lord, give me strength and protect us as we return to hell.

  He leaped first into the darkness. The initial free fall was always controlled chaos, the cold air feeling like tiny daggers on the exposed part of his neck. The nanomotor actuators in his exoskeleton hummed quietly as they monitored his descent, the built-in gyros stabilizing his trajectory. Below him loomed the dark expanse of enemy territory, and it seemed that every nerve in his body was acutely aware that a Triton patrol could spot them at any moment.

  The darkness, usually a help in covert operations, only made him feel vulnerable as he imagined the unseen mechanical eyes of the Tritons’ CrioX AI watching their every move from its legion of hidden machines lurking in the rubble.

  Panning with his night-vision optics, Santiago took in the charred wasteland below. Crumbled buildings cast shadows that stretched out like dark veins across the broken earth. Pockets of fire still burned in the distance, sending up plumes of smoke into the cold night air. Their flickering orange flames illuminated overturned vehicles and cratered roadways—stark evidence of the fierce battles that had raged through the area for years.

  Suddenly, a sharp, insistent beep pierced the quiet hum of his suit. His heads-up display flashed a warning: Rapid descent detected. At once, he activated the parachute mechanism embedded within his suit. With a jolt and a loud snap that echoed through the night, the chute deployed.

  Around him, he saw the canopies of his squad’s parachutes unfurl in the starless sky. The sudden deceleration was disorienting, and for a moment, Santiago’s senses were overwhelmed by the abrupt shift from plummeting descent to a floating glide toward the ground. He watched the green hue of his optics for any sign of the enemy or incoming fire.

  Hell Squad was at its most vulnerable now as its members dangled like marionettes on strings for anyone to shoot at. The men steered their square canopies toward the drop zone that Santiago had selected, in what appeared to be an old park.

  He brought his toggles halfway down for a two-stage flare as he swooped over a street clogged with destroyed vehicles. His boots crunched down on shattered glass. All around him, the others landed, freeing themselves from their chutes and getting their weapons up.

  “Nodin, see if you can pick up any signals from Raven Squad,” Yosef whispered.

  Nodin checked his scanner. “Jamming is heavy, but I’m picking up a faint transponder ping—northwest, about a kilometer out.”

  “Let’s move,” Yosef said.

  The troopers spread out cautiously, navigating the labyrinth of rubble and twisted metal beyond the park. Shadows of shelled-out structures stretched ominously across the road.

  As they approached a collapsed overpass, Santiago held up a fist. “Hear that?”

  They listened intently. Faint mechanical sounds echoed—clanking and whirring accompanied by a low, rhythmic thud.

  Yosef flashed hand signals, sending David to higher ground while the rest of the squad fanned out and hunkered down. They watched David climb a house-size mound of broken concrete blocks. At the top, he peered down the scope of his rifle over the roadway and the bombed-out block beyond to search for the faint heat signatures the machines produced.

 

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