Allegiance

SIXTEEN

X tossed and turned in his bed for hours. Unable to sleep, he had decided to call another dive with the rookies, waking them all before dawn. There was something about diving that always seemed to clear his mind. At first light, he took Miles to the marina and boarded a boat with his trusted guards, Ton and Victor. In the gray predawn, they sped toward a location between the decommissioned Hive rig and the capitol tower.

Two container ships had already anchored in the water, with large white drop zones marked on their wide decks where containers had once been. The rookie divers and support teams had arrived and were finishing their gear checks.

X joined them on the deck, the orange glow of the sunrise illuminating their helmetless features. Most of them looked exhausted, but all appeared annoyed, and not because of being woken early.

Lena, Hector, Alberto, and the other greenhorns weren’t wild about diving with Ted again. X didn’t blame them, but he had decided to give the young man a second chance to prove himself.

X walked over to Ted.

“Don’t make me regret this,” X said.

“I won’t, sir, you have my word,” Ted replied.

Satisfied, X scanned the other rookies. With all the veteran divers aboard Discovery, it was up to him to help train them, and while he had a packed day, he decided to start it with a few dives.

X finished putting on his gear, secured his helmet, and walked around with the technicians. They double-checked all systems, and once everyone had confirmed they were operational, he bumped on the comm channel.

“Hector, Alberto, Lena, and Ted will go first with me,” he said into his headset. “The rest of you, watch and keep out of the way on the deck.”

Nods all around.

“Follow my lead to fifteen thousand feet, release your booster, and deploy your chute,” X added. “I want to see everyone in a stable falling position—no suicide dives.”

X glanced at Ted, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Remember to keep your distance, both on the ascent and on the dive,” X said. “Questions?”

Seeing no hands, he punched his booster. The orange training balloon shot out, filling with helium and hauling him into the sky. The other divers spread out, deploying their balloons at a safe distance.

While the horizon lit up with the rising sun, the divers rose into the clear blue sky.

Ted looked up at X and held a hand up. “Thank you for giving me this second shot,” he said on a private channel.

“You’re welcome,” X replied. “Now, focus.” He was glad Magnolia wasn’t here to watch, because she would break his balls for allowing the guy back into the sky this soon.

But the need for Hell Divers outweighed any grief he would get for his decision.

Maybe being king did have benefits.

As the balloons pulled them higher, X took in the view of everything he was trying to protect. Rigs dotted the crystal-clear water, housing the last remnants of humanity. Securing the Vanguard Islands was the heaviest responsibility he had ever borne in his life, and not even his legendary days of diving had prepared him for the challenges he faced now.

The ships below grew smaller, and the rescue runabouts hardly appeared to be moving. He could tell only by the streaking white wakes.

He glanced at his HUD—time to release the helium. He gave the order over the comm channel. At fifteen thousand feet, he hit the booster’s purge valve, deflating it. Then, as his upward motion stopped, he pulled the ring cable releasing the booster harness. It peeled off him as he pulled his arms and legs into stable position and plummeted earthward. The training balloons’ bright orange would be easy enough for the motorboats to track and receive when they drifted down to the surface.

As he began to fall, the other divers followed suit, releasing their boosters and going into free fall. A few seemed to struggle, especially Alberto, but Ted was one of the first to get it right.

The kid seemed determined to make up for his mistake.

“Lena, Hector, watch your six,” X said.

The two divers turned and extended their legs just a bit, quickly getting fifty feet of separation, but Hector lost his stable position and did a barrel roll before finally managing to get stable again.

“Relax,” X said. “Remember, you’re light as a feather.”

The water rose up to meet them, the two ships and many rigs once again coming into focus. X could already see the white landing zones on the decks. He took a moment to savor the thrill of falling.

Then he tracked toward the left vessel, keeping his eye on Ted.

“Slow it down, hot rod,” X said.

The diver was falling a little faster than the others and catching up with X. They would be the first two on the deck of the first vessel.

“Lena, Hector, Alberto, take vessel two,” X said. “Tomen el barco dos.”

All of their parachutes blossomed open without mishap.

“Easy, everyone, you got this,” X said. The deck rose up to meet his boots, and at six feet he pulled his toggles to slow his descent and stepped out of the sky.

Releasing the left riser, he spilled the air from his canopy and watched Ted.

The young diver performed such a graceful two-stage flare, X might have cheered if not for a scream over the comms. X turned to see Hector smack into the other ship’s hull, just below the rail.

Lena and Alberto came in hot, both of them running, then tumbling in a shroud of tangled cords and chutes.

Two Cazadores dived over the side of the ship to retrieve Hector.

X ran over, pulling off his helmet on the way, ready to jump in himself. But the Cazador swimmers got Hector up to the surface. He thrashed in their grip—a good sign.

Miles came trotting over with Ton and Victor. They watched as the swimmers got Hector into a flotation litter and two others winched him up to the deck.

A pair of medics treated Hector for injuries.

“You’re lucky,” said one. “Your armor saved you from breaking bones.”

Hector didn’t seem to understand the medic, and the other translated. A grin crossed Hector’s face, and he said something in Spanish.

“He said he’s ready to go back up,” the medic told X.

X smiled back at Hector. Then he walked over and patted Ted on the shoulder.

“Good work,” he said. “Let’s see if you can do it twice in a row.”

He took them back into the sky for three more dives, and the team improved on each one. On the fourth, a speedboat showed up with Rhino, Samson, and Lieutenant Sloan.

Once the divers were safely on the deck, he ended the training and left Miles for Lena to take back to the capitol tower. The young woman had taken a liking to the dog, and both he and X trusted her.

After saying goodbye, X boarded the speedboat with Ton and Victor, and Rhino piloted it to a distant oil rig that the Cazadores had turned into a massive dry dock.

During the ride, Rhino filled X in on the night before and what had happened on Elysium. X stroked his graying beard. The jumps had cleared his mind—a good thing, because they were facing a slew of problems.

With the Lion sunk and Star Grazer deployed, they had only Mercury patrolling the barriers. Elysium remained operational but anchored for training. There was no way to contact the crew manning the second fuel outpost in Belize, and X wasn’t willing to send either warship to check on the Iron Reef until they had another to replace it.

And the nagging question remained: What the hell had killed the crew at Bloodline?

The crew of Discovery may have the answer to that, but the electrical storms had kept him out of contact with Captain Mitchells.

At midmorning, they reached the docks surrounding the oil rig. The place looked like a rusted box in the water. Near the roof of the ten-story platform, streaks of bird shit had formed what looked like a white waterfall.

The sun gleamed over the horizon as they tethered the boat next to a score of others. Sergeant Wynn and his advance team of militia soldiers were already here.

“Area is secure,” he confirmed.

Sloan motioned for X and the entourage, and they climbed a ladder up to the only platform overhanging the exterior of the rig.

Rhino went up first, then X. At the top, he turned to help Samson up, who seemed to be struggling even after losing weight.

“I ain’t a spring chicken anymore,” he grumbled.

X chuckled. “That makes two of us.”

The old engineer took his hand and climbed onto the platform, filling his lungs with clean air.

“I hope this was worth the trip,” he said.

“It is for me,” X replied. “I’ve been wanting to see this place for a while.”

The militia soldiers came next, and soon they were all on the platform, along with the four Cazadores in light armor guarding a steel door.

The soldiers held their spear shafts vertically. One of them unlocked the door and stepped aside. Clanging hammers and buzzing saws and grinders echoed through the cavernous space. Ten floors of interior platforms extended off the bulkheads that surrounded two warships moored inside the hangar doors.

Behind the ships were a container ship and what looked like an old cruise ship. Mezzanines and scaffolding, many of them occupied with workers, rose up the sides of the vessels.

A female voice called out in Spanish, and X looked up to see Carmela standing on the deck of the first ship, right above fresh paint that read, “Renegade.”

The colonel wore leather today, forgoing her armor in the hot space. Judging by the grease streaks on her face, she had been here for a while, working alongside the mechanics and engineers.

She shouted down to Rhino and then walked out of view.

“What did she say?” X asked.

“To join her on Shadow,” Rhino said. He waved for the group to follow him toward the metal spans extending over the water.

The militia soldiers watched the Cazadores working inside the facility. The men and women were hard workers, but in the eyes of the sky soldiers, they were also threats.

Many of the mechanics, engineers, and dockhands looked as if they had been working through the night. They too seemed interested in the newcomers, and X found many of them staring at him, some of them glaring.

He was used to it, and unlike his guards, he wasn’t worried about a security threat here. Sloan flashed hand signals, and several of the soldiers fanned out. Ton and Victor moved to a higher platform than the militia soldiers, to keep an eye on all levels at once.

Rhino led the way across another mezzanine over the water, to the second ship. This one was much bigger than Renegade and in much better shape.

The exterior looked like the one that he had rescued Magnolia from back in Florida—the ship where el Pulpo had skewered Rodger like a bug.

X pushed aside the memories and climbed with the others to the deck above. A crane operator smoking a cigarette looked down as he prepared to lower an armored turret.

Carmela raised a hand in the air, but not to the worker.

A white cockatoo with a yellow crest swooped down behind X to land on her shoulder.

“Pretty impressive shop they got here,” Samson said, standing with his hands on his hips. “But the question is, when can these ships be ready to sail? They both look like shit, and that’s coming from someone who spent most of his life working on the Hive.”

Samson was right, of course. While Shadow looked better off than Renegade, much remained to be done, from overhauling the anchor capstan to sandblasting rusty scuppers.

“Ask Colonel Moreto,” X said to Rhino.

Rhino and Carmela spoke for a moment.

“She says Shadow is rough on the outside but the guts are good,” Rhino said, “and the mechanical system wasn’t damaged in the fighting. She thinks we can have it back in service in a week or two, max.”

“What about that one?” X asked, pointing to Renegade.

“Our engineers need piston rings that we don’t have, unfortunately,” Rhino said. “We have to go on a scavenging mission to find them.”

Carmela spoke again, and he translated.

“She says she has a crew of sailors and a team of soldiers ready and waiting to go on your orders, King Xavier,” Rhino said. “They will take a smaller vessel to a location where we believe there are parts.”

“Get it done,” X said.

Rhino told Carmela, and she caught the eye of the soldier who had been shadowing her. He nodded and hurried off.

They weren’t wasting any time. That was good, because X had a feeling there was none to waste. “I want to know the location where they believe there are parts,” he said to Rhino. “Make sure it’s noted on a map and brought to my quarters.”

They continued the tour of the ship, going down the narrow passages. At the bottom deck, they entered a large bay that housed several old-world vehicles. Two were armored trucks with patched rubber tires, while the third was a transport vehicle with tracks.

Rhino pushed on, showing them several more compartments, until the crackle of a radio stopped them. Sloan pulled out her walkie-talkie.

“I’ll go topside to see if I can make this out,” she said.

X decided to follow her, sensing that it was something important. When they reached the weather deck, the transmission cleared with a message from a militia soldier monitoring the radio in the command center.

“Lieutenant Sloan, I’ve made contact with Captain Mitchells,” said the man. “He wants to speak to King Xavier.”

X grabbed the handset.

“This is X. You’re going to have to coordinate the conversation, okay?”

“Okay, sir.”

The soldier spoke into the radio equipment back at the command center, explaining that he had X on a mobile radio. X heard a faint response from Captain Mitchells in the flurry of static that followed.

“King Xavier,” said the militia soldier, “Captain Mitchells said they know what killed the Cazador crew at the outpost. Something called the skinwalkers.”

Rhino shot Carmela a glance.

“Captain Mitchells destroyed the rest of the outpost, and they are now on their way to Rio de Janeiro,” the soldier continued. “He anticipates they will reach the target in four to five days.”

“They destroyed the rest of the outpost?” Rhino asked.

“Confirm your last about destroying the outpost,” X said into the radio.

“Discovery fired two missiles to destroy the fuel station,” he replied.

“What the hell would they do that for?” X muttered.

“Shit,” Rhino said, looking down.

“Captain Mitchells has a message from General Santiago to relay to General Rhino,” said the soldier. “He says to firm up the borders. The skinwalkers could be heading to the islands.”

Rhino glanced up, and X caught the flicker of fear in his eyes.

“Copy that,” X said. “Tell Captain Mitchells to stay safe and to use only the encrypted line, and only if absolutely necessary.”

“Roger that.”

The line severed, and X handed the radio back to Sloan. Then he turned to Rhino and Carmela.

“Who, or what, are the skinwalkers?” X asked.

“Demon men who flay the hides off men and wear them as trophies,” Rhino said.

X almost laughed, but this was no joke. Apparently, el Pulpo wasn’t the worst of his kind.

“Come on,” he grunted. “You’ve got to be screwing with me.”

“I’m afraid not, King Xavier,” Rhino said. “Five years ago, el Pulpo’s bastard son, Horn, took the warship Raven’s Claw and two hundred of his warriors on a raiding mission.”

“Bastard son?” X said. “Isn’t that something you should have mentioned?”

“He was thought dead,” Rhino replied. “We still don’t know exactly what happened when the warship anchored, but when they didn’t return, el Pulpo sent an expedition to find them.”

X shook his head wearily. Of all the secrets the Cazadores had kept over the past few months, this was one of the craziest.

“We found a quarter of the crew murdered barbarically at the site of the target, and Raven’s Claw missing,” Rhino said.

“Like psycho, like son, I suppose,” Sloan muttered.

Rhino didn’t seem to understand the old-world reference and kept talking. “Many people thought el Pulpo sent his son to die on that mission. Perhaps that’s why Horn and his comrades slaughtered their commander and those loyal to his father.” Rhino ran a hand over his shaved head. “Others believed that Horn took Raven’s Claw in search of treasure and would someday return.”

“And you think Horn and his merry crew of demon assholes attacked the fuel station?” X asked.

“According to General Santiago, yes.”

X lowered his head in dismay. “The shit keeps piling up and smelling worse. As if mutant beasts and man-hunting machines weren’t bad enough, we have a demented army of skin… whatever the hell you called them, to worry about now.”

“I wish I knew more about them,” said Rhino, “but there are just two men alive who do. One is General Santiago, and the other is the sole survivor of that ill-fated mission.”

“I thought you just said everyone died.”

Rhino hesitated. “Not exactly…”

“God damn it,” X said. “All these damn secrets and half truths are really starting to rankle my ass.”

“I’m sorry, King Xavier. We found one former sailor from the mission alive, but I’m afraid he won’t be much help.”

“Why’s that?” X asked.

“Come with me. I’ll show you.”

Almost four days of pushing through the skies at a little over fifty knots had taken its toll on Les. The thought of at least two days’ travel still to go just made him tired, and knowing that the Vanguard Islands were facing another threat made the journey seem almost unbearable.

Les had thought his wife and daughter would be safe at home. The defectors didn’t know the location of the islands, but the skinwalkers did, and from what General Santiago had said about Horn and his crew, they were a significant threat, even in small numbers.

If Les had to guess, el Pulpo’s bastard son had fueled his warship and killed everyone in the outpost and was now heading to the Vanguard Islands for his revenge and to take the throne from his father.

Les massaged his temples, wondering whether they should turn back.

No, he thought, X has it under control.

He had too much thinking time on his hands. Part of him wondered whether he should fly ahead to scope out Rio de Janeiro. But he wasn’t keen on leaving the slower-moving Star Grazer, especially now that they had dropped the Sea Wolf off on the ship’s deck with Sofia, Magnolia, and Rodger.

Thoughts of the skin sculptures at the outpost, the two-headed snakes, the defectors killing his boy, and Ada Winslow dropping a shipping container of Cazadores into the ocean all swirled in his head.

She’s not your problem now. The disappointment and rage he felt toward the woman who had served as his XO momentarily took his mind off the threats to the islands and to his mission.

Ada was young, but she had done something that couldn’t be forgiven.

He looked over at the other young woman now occupying the XO’s chair.

“How you doing over there, Lieutenant Brower?” Les asked.

“I’m fine,” Layla said with a smile. “Not going to lie, though, and tell you that I don’t miss sunshine and clear water, but if we end up saving some people on this trip, it’ll be worth it.”

“Indeed,” Les said.

He looked down the row of stations to Eevi. “Ensign Corey, have we heard anything else from that bunker yet?”

“Negative, sir, but I’ll let you know the moment we do.”

Les got out of his chair and decided to go for a walk through the ship. “Timothy, you have the bridge,” he said on the way out.

The ship’s nuclear-powered engines rumbled softly in the bulkheads. He ducked under a low overhead into the mess hall for some grub.

Michael held a tray in his robotic hand, stacked with fresh fruit and some water.

“Hey, Captain, how’s it going?” he said.

“Fine. Just thought I’d get something to eat and stretch my legs. How about you, Commander?”

Michael held up the tray. “I’m taking Layla some food.”

“She probably could use some rest,” Les said. “Tell her I’ve got the watch when I’m back.”

“Will do, sir.” Michael paused. “Sir?” he said.

“What is it, Commander?”

“We never talked about what happened in Jamaica.”

“What’s there to talk about? The machines killed my son.”

Michael set his tray down on a counter. “Yes, but—”

“I don’t blame you, Commander, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Les said. “If I blame anyone, it’s myself for not going down there with him. Maybe if I had, he would still be alive.”

“Or you would also be dead.”

“And I would make that trade in a heartbeat,” Les said. “But there are no do-overs in diving. All Hell Divers understand the risk, and so do their families. Your father knew the risk, just as you know you might not come back from your next dive.”

Michael’s brow creased. He was obviously worried about leaving Layla and their unborn child behind when they got to Rio de Janeiro.

“I respect you for continuing to dive despite the risk,” Les said. “Your mission of saving others out there is a selfless one, Commander. My son believed in that mission, and he died for it. In a few days, we will honor his memory by diving.”

Michael smiled. “Yes, we will, Captain. You have my word.”

“Good,” Les said. “Now, go take Layla some food. You don’t want her to get grumpy.”

They parted ways, and Les walked over to grab an apple and some dried fish. He remembered Katherine’s appetite when she was pregnant with Trey and Phyl. Always famished with weird cravings, but there were never enough rations to keep her satisfied.

Despite the lack of food and the darkness of their world on the Hive, he would trade anything to go back to that life.

At least, then he would still have his boy.

On his way out of the mess hall, an alarm blared.

Red lights strobed at the end of the passageway.

One of the hatches opened, and Edgar Cervantes walked into the passageway. His dreadlocks swung as he looked left to right, then focused on Les.

“What’s going on, Captain?” he said.

“No idea,” Les said as he took off for the bridge.

Halfway there, the public address system crackled with a message from Timothy.

“General quarters,” said the AI. “All hands to their stations.”

Rounding the next corner, Les nearly slammed into Alfred and another technician.

“Sorry, Captain!” Alfred yelled.

Les kept running until he got to the bridge. Layla, Michael, and Eevi were at the sonar station, studying the screen.

“What’s going on?” Les asked.

Timothy’s hologram emerged.

“Sir, we have multiple contacts on sonar,” said the AI, “and it looks like they’re headed right for us.”

“What do you mean, ‘contacts’?” Les asked. He looked out the portholes, a chill rushing through his muscles. All sorts of thoughts crossed his mind, from other airships to mutant winged beasts.

“Life-forms, sir,” Eevi said. “On the surface.”

“Timothy, turn on frontal beams and reduce thrusters,” Les ordered.

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied the AI.

Les checked their altitude and speed. Discovery was only five hundred feet above the water and cruising at just over fifty knots. He considered using the turbofans to climb, but he knew of nothing on the surface that could reach them at these heights.

He spotted Star Grazer sailing directly ahead of them. The beams hit the warship.

“Contact General Santiago on the encrypted line,” Les said.

“Already have,” Timothy said. “They are aware of the contacts.”

The beeping from the sonar echoed in the quiet space.

“I don’t see anything down there,” Michael said, watching from a different porthole.

Eevi studied the sonar. “Whatever it is, it’s big,” she said. “And—oh, shit…”

“What?” Les said.

“Picking up another contact,” Eevi said. “Three total now.”

Les looked at the main screen that displayed the views from the cameras. The front beams captured something gliding through the choppy waters. The creature went right beneath Discovery and continued its trajectory without slowing.

“Captain,” Eevi said, glancing up, eyes wide. “Whatever those things are, they’re almost as big as Star Grazer.”

“My God,” Les said. “They weren’t looking for us. They’re after the warship!” He snapped into action. “Turn us around, Timothy. Full speed toward Star Grazer. And, Lieutenant, I want those weapons hot.”

Les thought of the Sea Wolf, sitting on the deck of the Cazador warship.

It wasn’t just Cazadores down there anymore.

There were Hell Divers on that ship.