Allegiance

TWO

Two hours after the decommissioning ceremony for the Hive, Magnolia was taking the elevator to the top deck of the capitol rig with Rodger. She was more nervous about the council meeting than about the low-altitude dive.

As the cage rattled upward, she looked out at the workers securing the Hive onto the rig in the distance. From here, in their new yellow jumpsuits, they looked like bees at work on a comb.

All the banging and construction noise had attracted a pod of spinner dolphins, which were jumping playfully and doing barrel rolls in the air.

She smiled, soaking in the magnificence of nature that she had never known during her life in the air. This place was a miracle that humans might not deserve after what they had done to the planet.

A dolphin leaped out of the water, spinning on its axis, and splashed back down.

“Pretty awesome, right?” Rodger said. But he wasn’t paying attention to the dolphins. His eyes were on the second phase of construction.

“Those cranes are securing vertical beams to support the platforms we’re adding,” he said. “In time, the people living there will be able to open hatches to balconies for a view of the water, and soon we’ll add an entire new platform above the curved roof, for a garden and rain catchment system.”

Magnolia leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Nice work, Rodgeman,” she said. “Color me impressed.”

“Color you… what?” Rodger tilted his head, then chuckled.

Magnolia realized he was checking her out. “It’s a phrase from the Old World, you know?”

“Not that one, but I do like the hair.”

Magnolia pulled on a strand to look at the new color. A major change from the old blue and purple, the fiery red streaks matched her new Hell Divers battery unit.

“I wonder what that’s about,” Rodger said.

Across the rooftop, near the grove of trees, a small group lingered. X, with Miles beside him, stood in the shade with Rhino, Michael, Layla, and Les, listening to Ada. The young XO used her hands to emphasize whatever she was saying.

X saw them over Ada’s shoulder and waved for them to join the group, moving to the stairwell hatch as they approached. Miles’s tail whipped when he saw Magnolia.

“Hey, buddy,” she called out.

Imulah walked up the interior stairwell and stepped through the open hatch. Seeing Magnolia, he moved his hand behind his back. She still hadn’t apologized for sticking a knife through his palm, but he hadn’t exactly apologized for helping imprison her, either.

The tension between them was still palpable, and months after the battle for the islands ended, there were still plenty of problems from fresh wounds, both real and imagined. As a member of the new council, she was about to hear many of them.

“Meeting starts soon,” Imulah said. “Everyone, please follow me.”

They took the stairs down through the residential levels, one of which had served as Magnolia’s prison.

Sofia was waiting outside the large chamber doors on the fifth floor. She too had changed out of her Hell Diver jumpsuit, and wore a thin white cotton dress that clung to her slender frame. She was in her late twenties—older than Magnolia had thought, though her features showed no signs of aging. With mild annoyance, Magnolia thought of the crow’s-feet that she herself was getting now that her skin had been exposed to the sun.

“What a rush, Mags!” Sofia said with dimpled grin. “I can’t wait for the next dive.”

“They aren’t all fun like that,” Rodger said.

Sofia flashed a seductive smile at Rhino.

Magnolia had found a partner in Rodger, although they were taking it much slower than the two Cazadores, who seemed to disappear anytime they managed to find a few minutes.

X stopped outside the large metal doors engraved with an octopus. A militia soldier and a Cazador soldier, both armed with swords, stood guard outside the chamber. Magnolia didn’t like it, but it was part of the peace deal X had negotiated with Cazador leadership. The warriors would retain their weapons if they swore allegiance and promised to keep the peace.

“Let’s go,” X said to Rhino. “I want to get out on the water before we lose the sun.”

Rhino pushed open the double doors to a long room with high ceilings and the platform where el Pulpo had once held court.

Miles trotted ahead of X and up the stairs to the platform, where he sat in front of the throne. The dog knew where he wanted to be.

The rest of the council filed down an aisle past a wooden bench where three scribes sat waiting to record the meeting. A pleasant smell of freshly hewn wood was almost as potent as that of the fruit trees on the sun deck above.

“Again, got to say I’m impressed,” Magnolia said quietly.

Rodger smiled proudly. “I must confess, my dad did most of the finish work on the table while I helped Samson prepare the rig to receive the Hive.”

The chief engineer sat at the table now, using a handkerchief to mop the sweat from his forehead. Along with Magnolia, Les, and X, he was one of the four sky people on the eight-person council.

They all sat but X, who remained standing on the throne platform.

Colonel Carmela Moreto, a fifty-year-old Cazador warrior, sat across from Magnolia, next to an even older soldier, General Diego Santiago. After the battle, both had kept their rank by swearing loyalty to X and promising to help avoid more bloodshed.

Magnolia didn’t trust Santiago. She scrutinized him as she walked to her seat. A thick white beard clung to his lantern jaw but failed to mask the scar carving a diagonal line across his weathered face.

She didn’t trust Carmela, either. The older woman wore a turquoise necklace and copper wrist guards engraved with sharks. The feathers of the cockatoo on her shoulder matched her braided white hair. The annoying bird kept cackling and looking at Magnolia.

“Shhhhh,” Carmela said. “¡Silencio, Kotchee!”

The cockatoo stopped squawking but continued eyeing Magnolia with eyes as black as coal.

I fucking hate birds.

Magnolia wasn’t the only one. Miles didn’t seem to like Kotchee, either, probably seeing it as a miniature version of the vultures that nearly killed him at the Turks and Caicos Islands.

On the platform, X had pulled out a tablet from his backpack and was tapping the screen. “Piece of shit,” he grumbled.

The glow from Timothy Pepper’s hologram spread across the dimly lit room.

“There we go,” X said.

Several latecomers came through the open doors as the AI walked onto the platform. A group of six merchants entered, all of them men, and all of them dressed in silly finery. They took off their sailor hats, revealing lighter skin than most Cazadores, who worked in the sun as laborers or warriors. These men lived a life of ease in the shade.

Their leader, Tomás Mata, maybe fifty years old, with a full head of wheat-colored hair, walked down the aisle while the other merchants took seats in the gallery. With his own fleet of trawlers, the wealthy businessman owned a chunk of the most profitable business aside from war: fishing.

A group of Hell Divers, including the new Cazador recruits, took seats in the gallery. Two more Cazadores followed—officers, with their black capes and shiny swords. Armored soldiers with red capes, the symbol of the legendary Praetorian Guard, accompanied the two men.

Magnolia recognized them as they walked down the center aisle. Colonel Ken Forge and Colonel Pablo Vargas were both part of the infamous Black Order of Octopus Lords, which had served under el Pulpo.

The order also included General Santiago, General Rhino, and Colonel Moreto. Everyone else above the rank of lieutenant had been killed in the battle for the Metal Islands, except for one Cazador colonel who had refused to acknowledge X as the rightful ruler. Rhino had executed the man two days after the battle ended, tossing his body to the order’s monstrous namesakes that lurked in the depths.

General Rhino continued to prove his loyalty to King Xavier and played a vital role in keeping any underground rebellions from getting traction. But it was hard to believe that somewhere among the twenty-one rigs plus the outposts, Cazadores weren’t planning an attack.

Hell, the militia had had a difficult enough time putting out rebellions on the Hive. Magnolia wasn’t sure how they could ever stop one here.

The double doors clanked shut, and X cleared his throat.

“For those of you who don’t know, this is our AI, Timothy,” he said.

The Cazadores all looked skeptically at the hologram. They had done their best to run the islands with as little technology from the former world as possible, even radios, and had certainly never dealt with an AI.

“I’m at the council’s—and your—disposal, King Xavier,” Timothy said.

X sighed loud enough that Magnolia heard it. He clearly hated the title, and she found it a little corny, but according to Imulah, the Cazador tradition had to continue.

“Tomás is first on the agenda,” X said.

The merchant stood and bowed slightly. He spoke nearly perfect English. “I’m pleased to announce this was a very good week for fishing. Even with our devastated fleet, we should have an adequate supply to feed our new friends.”

“And the farms?” the king asked.

Another merchant stood up in the gallery. He was bald, with a gray beard, and spoke Spanish.

“He says we need rain,” Imulah said. “Or we will have to start using recycled drinking water on the crops.”

“Then we shall hope for rain,” X said. He looked down at General Santiago and gestured for the old warrior to speak.

Santiago spoke quickly in his deep, gruff voice while Imulah translated as fast as he could.

“General Santiago requests the Sky Arena be opened immediately,” he said. “Our people thirst for blood, and they are growing impatient with these new laws.”

“These new laws are meant to keep humanity alive,” Magnolia reminded the old general. “We all have suffered great losses, and reopening the Sky Arena would reduce our numbers even more.”

Imulah explained her words to Santiago, who glared back at her. He clearly didn’t appreciate the opinion of any woman on the council who wasn’t Carmela.

That was fine. Magnolia didn’t appreciate sitting on a council with a man who had served in the army of a sadistic cannibal.

“You kill each other so often, it’s amazing there are any of you left,” Samson said to back up Magnolia.

“Perhaps there is a way to have fighting that does not result in death,” Les added.

Santiago’s gaze flitted to the tall, fair captain as Imulah continued to translate.

“Would you consider fights that do not end in the taking of life?” X asked. “I really don’t have a problem if you want to beat each other silly, but cutting off heads and dismembering one another seems a bit counterproductive at this point.”

“That would go against our customs,” Imulah said, answering for Santiago.

“The fight is always to the death,” Rhino added.

“Maybe it’s time to end your barbaric tradition,” Sofia said from the gallery. “Like eating people. We’ve stopped that. Don’t forget where you came from, now that we’re free.”

Rhino clenched his jaw but did not respond. He was having a harder time than Sofia in letting go of the warrior mentality learned over a lifetime of fighting.

When Imulah explained what the other Cazadores had said, the old general snorted, making his nose ring quiver. He stood up from his chair and spoke, looking at X.

Carmela also joined in, and her bird made a clucking sound that so grated on Magnolia’s nerves, she considered taking out a blade and cutting the damn thing’s head off.

“General Santiago says that if we want to kill each other, we should have that option, King Xavier,” Imulah said. “And Colonel Moreto agrees. She says we aren’t asking your people to fight.”

“That is true,” Samson said.

Magnolia nudged him in the gut with her elbow, earning an angry glare from the old engineer.

“What?” he said. “If they want to kill each other, who are we to stop them?”

X folded his arms over his open white shirt. “Perhaps, before jumping into this topic, I should have brought up the report Lieutenant Winslow gave me earlier.”

The room fell silent.

“The crew of Discovery has detected a radio signal like the one Team Raptor discovered in Jamaica,” X said after the pause. “However, there is one major difference.”

This was what Ada had been talking to them about outside, Magnolia realized.

“There is also a message with the signal,” X said. “From survivors who need our help.”

Carmela folded her hands together, copper wrist guards clanking, while Imulah interpreted. She replied, and Santiago nodded.

“There is a reason we use radio jammers and have warned you not to send out messages,” Imulah said. “The metal gods have never found these islands, because we are a grain of sand in a desert, thanks to the storms forming a barrier around our home—and thanks to the great lengths we have gone to in not using old-world technology.”

Carmela spoke again, and this time both Colonel Vargas and Colonel Forge stood up in the audience, pounding their chests.

Imulah waited for the noise to subside. “Colonel Moreto said that if the metal gods are there, we should send out warriors to crush them.”

Kotchee let out a cackle, as if in agreement.

“Could you please tell that baby buzzard to shut its beak?” X said.

Imulah hesitated.

“On second thought, don’t,” X said.

Carmela glared at X, clearly sensing that he was insulting her bird. Magnolia couldn’t help but smirk.

“We crush,” Santiago said in broken English. He smacked his open palm with his fist. “Crush metal gods.”

Vargas and Forge again pounded their chests. Magnolia turned to look at them. Both were middle-aged and had clearly seen their share of fighting over the years. Forge had short brown hair the color of his skin, and even darker, unwavering eyes. He was older than Colonel Vargas, but age had been kinder to Forge, whereas Vargas’s protruding dark eyes and scarred features made him look half-mad and decades older.

“Metal gods?” X said. “I appreciate your eagerness, General, but the defectors are killing-machines, not mere cans to crush.”

Imulah started to translate but hesitated again.

“If I could cut in,” Magnolia said.

Santiago glowered at her, but she wasn’t intimidated. She had survived el Pulpo, and the old warhorse was nothing compared to that mean, ugly son of a bitch.

“The most important thing we have to do right now is keep our home safe,” Magnolia said, “and that means removing the threat of the defectors. Not fighting amongst ourselves over stupid shit like who can lop off someone’s head in the Sky Arena would be a good start.”

The old general raised a gray hedge of brow at Carmela, who gave a half nod after Imulah had relayed Magnolia’s words. If the Cazadores had gone to such lengths as creating radio jammers to keep the location of the islands secret, it was clear enough that they feared the defectors.

Also, Magnolia had read their logbooks about several encounters they’d had with the machines over the decades. Encounters that did not end well for the Cazador warriors. Perhaps having a mutual enemy was a good thing, she thought. It might bring the two societies together in a way that nothing else could.

“I volunteer to check out that signal,” she said.

X thought about it and shook his head. “Not yet, Mags. I need you here.”

“We should send a warship,” Rhino suggested. “We can spare one of the three currently patrolling the barriers. Two others are undergoing repairs, and there is still our training ship, Elysium.”

X seemed to prefer this idea to Magnolia’s.

“Why not send Discovery out again?” she asked.

“Because that leaves us vulnerable, and because we have already lost too many souls,” X said. “I will not risk more if—”

“We’re already vulnerable,” Michael interrupted. He stood in the audience. The other Hell Divers rose as one, a wall of red suits around the commander.

Magnolia saw many fresh faces in the group. She had helped train them all, and while some were ready for a real dive, most were still rookies like Ted, Lena, and Arlo.

Arlo Wand showed the most promise of all the new divers. But the well-built kid with dark eyes didn’t just have long curly blond locks hanging over his shoulder. He had a chip on it and was a little too eager to prove himself.

“If we hope to defeat the defectors and keep our home safe, we need forces in the air and on the sea,” Michael said. “If the machines are lying in wait at the location of this signal, then I say we send as much firepower as we can spare and destroy them before they can destroy us.”

“He’s right,” Magnolia added. “We can’t be on the defensive forever and hope this place stays a secret. If you and I found it, then the machines can, too.”

Her words led to a moment of silence.

Michael raised his robotic arm. “I’ll go, too.”

Layla looked shocked at his suggestion. X seemed caught off guard, too. He started pacing, his finger rubbing the gray stubble on his square jaw.

Magnolia suspected that his reluctance to send out Discovery wasn’t just because he didn’t want to send out his friends and family. It was because he wanted to go and couldn’t.

X was stuck here, whether he liked it or not. Without his leadership and reputation, Magnolia had a bad feeling the Cazadores and sky people would tear each other apart.

“You want to go back out there after what happened to Trey?” Layla asked. Her back was to Michael as she folded their freshly dried clothing.

He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be careful if I do.”

Layla pulled away and walked over to the open window in their small quarters. She brushed her face against her shoulder to wipe away a tear. Then she put a hand on her belly and looked out over the ocean.

Michael followed her and gently put his hand over hers. It was the most glorious feeling, to know that the life inside her was part of him. The little guy was getting more active by the day.

“I can’t believe you’re even considering this,” Layla said.

“I want to stay here with you and Bray, but you and Bray are why I have to go.”

The breeze was up this afternoon, creating whitecaps across water as clear as a sapphire. Michael sometimes found her here, just staring, lost in her thoughts.

Katrina’s death had hit both of them hard, but she and Layla had been especially close.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Michael said. “Katrina wanted us to live out our lives here and raise our family. That’s why she did what she did with the USS Zion.”

Layla lowered her head. “I know,” she said. “I just miss her. She never got to experience being a mom, and I know she wanted that with Xavier at one point.”

Michael had never heard this, but it didn’t surprise him. Katrina had always loved X.

“She never got to see all this,” Layla added. “The way the world was meant to be.”

Michael gave a quiet sigh. “A lot of people gave their lives so that we could have a second chance.”

“That’s what I’m worried about, Michael. That you’ll be next. Trey didn’t get his second chance.”

The guilt Michael felt about Jamaica gnawed at him. “If I end up going, everything I do will be with you and Bray in mind.”

She clutched him tight. “You promise?”

He gently took her hand and put her palm over his chest.

“Maybe we should make this official,” he said.

“Official?”

He shrugged. “You know, like, get married.”

“Well, that’s romantic.”

“Sorry, but…”

“It’s fine,” she said. “I don’t love you because of your charm. You are the guy who took me on a ‘date’ to the weapons operation room or whatever it’s called, back when Discovery was Deliverance.”

He laughed. “Yeah, but that was fun, right?”

“It’s very possible Bray was conceived there.”

Michael leaned down in front of her stomach. “You hear that, little guy? You were conceived in the weapons operation center, which means you’re going to grow up to be a badass!”

Layla shook her head but had to laugh. She pulled Michael up straight, and he kissed her again.

“I’d better get to the library,” he said. “X is going over the Cazador maps.”

“Okay, I’ll just stay here and do…” Layla looked at the pile of unfolded clothing. “House stuff, I guess. Never thought I’d say that.”

“I’ll make it up to you when I get back tonight. How does dinner in the hall and then stargazing sound?”

Layla shrugged a shoulder and grinned. “Maybe you are a romantic after all,” she said.

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

Michael chuckled and left their small quarters and went to the great hall where the council chamber was located. The Cazadores had turned this fortress into an impressive place, but it lacked the technology the airships had.

Part of the reason, Michael suspected, was that they didn’t need to fix things with the same sense of urgency. Their lives didn’t depend on staying in the sky, and they had far more access to food sources here on the sea.

The bigger part, though, had to do with keeping this place a secret. So far, their lack of tech had kept them safe from the machines and everyone but his people.

Vaulted ceilings rose above Michael as he crossed the tile floor. A militia soldier and a Cazador soldier stood sentry beside the steel doors of the council chamber.

Michael walked down a passage lined with paintings of Cazador warriors. The men, and a few women, were dressed in armor and holding their weapons of choice.

General Santiago was there, gripping an axe with a blade the size of his head. Dozens of other generals, living and dead, seemed to watch the young commander’s progress, assessing his worthiness. But one section of wall was blank—the picture of el Pulpo, removed by the sky people.

Soon, there would be a picture of the man who killed him—assuming someone could get X to stand still long enough for a portrait. So far, he had been “too busy.”

Sconces with burning candles guided the way to the study. Michael passed several doors, one of them open to reveal an armory turned museum. Inside were glass cases full of swords, spears, bows, and old-world rifles that looked like antiques. On the walls hung suits of armor, helmets, and chain mail.

Around the next corner, he spotted the open doors to the study, or what his people called a library. The long room was far more than a library, though. Above the level furnished with hundreds of bookshelves was a meeting area with round wooden tables and several offices.

He had spent many hours in this place, going over records of the Cazadores’ travels, most of which had been limited to the Caribbean and the eastern coasts of the Americas. Only a few warriors had led expeditions across the Atlantic Ocean to West Africa or Europe. None had returned.

The library’s few patrons sat at tables, reading under lamps with orange shades. At the front desk sat Jason Matthis, the former librarian on the Hive, who had taken a beating from the militia during the dark days under the tyrant Leon Jordan.

The door shut behind Michael with a click, and Jason looked up with cloudy eyes.

“Who’s there?” he asked.

“Michael Everhart, sir.”

Jason rose from his seat and turned toward the voice. “So good to hear your voice, Commander. King Xavier is expecting you.”

“Thank you, Jason. It’s good to see you, too.” Michael walked down the rows of tables and stacks. The place had an academic vibe that didn’t really fit the Cazadores’ Spartan warrior culture, though the paintings on the walls helped bridge the gap—scenes of battles in the Sky Arena, on the open seas against mutant sharks and giant serpents, and on the mainland with Sirens and killer birds.

A voice called out from the balcony above. “Come on, kid,” X said. “I still haven’t gotten my daily swim in.”

Michael took the stairs two at a time up to the second level. X motioned him over to a large rectangular table draped with maps. Magnolia stood with her arms folded across her purple jacket.

Les was also here, in uniform. “Commander,” he said.

“Captain, how are you?”

“Worried,” Les replied.

X leaned with his palms on the table, looking down at the maps and then up at Michael. The concern in his gaze told Michael there was more to this meeting than simply discussing the SOS signal and the message, which he still hadn’t heard.

“We discovered something else after the council meeting,” Les said.

“This stays between us,” X said. “Got it? No one in this room says a word.”

Michael, Magnolia, and Les all nodded.

At a sudden movement under the table, Michael backed away. Miles stuck his head out to see what was going on.

“You, too, buddy,” X said. “Not even a growl.”

The dog whipped its tail and went back under the table.

X spread out a map. It showed eastern South America and a dead old-world city called Rio de Janeiro, where the signal originated.

Then he flattened a rolled-up square of paper on the table. It was a Cazador expedition log.

“What’s it say?” he asked.

“It’s a record,” X replied. “The Cazadores have been to this city before. Ten years ago.”

“And did they find anyone?”

“We don’t know.”

Michael scanned the log, realizing it was incomplete. “They never came back, did they?”

X shook his head. “Nope.”

“This message could be a trap from the defectors,” Les said. “The same one that got my son killed.”

The words stung Michael’s ears. He glanced at the captain, then looked away. Michael knew that Les blamed himself, but he also put some of the blame on Michael, who had led the mission on the ground.

“It could be a trap, yes,” said X. “But this time we know for a fact that there are survivors. We heard their voices before you got here.”

Les placed an electronic tablet on the table. “The original audio is in Portuguese, but Timothy has translated in his own voice.”

Michael stepped closer and bent down to listen as Les touched the screen.

“We have women and children. Please, if you’re out there, we need help. Our water system is failing, and our last crop yielded only half the normal rations. We are slowly starving, and if we can’t fix our water system, we will die.”

Les let it play twice before hitting the off button.

“This is what we’ve been waiting for,” Michael said. “Real survivors that need our help.”

“We also know that the Cazadores have encountered defectors before,” X said, “and if they never came back from this area, those machines could be why. It’s possible the machines are already there, and thanks to our signal, now they know the survivors’ location.”

“That’s why I’m requesting to take Discovery, sir,” Les said. “We have to eradicate the threat before they also find us.”

Everyone stared at Les in surprise.

“If there are survivors, I’ll bring them back here,” Les said. “And if there are defectors, I want to be the one to destroy them.”

“Discovery is grounded, Captain,” X replied.

“Please, X,” Les said. “Don’t make me beg. Let me take the airship and avenge my son.”

“I’ll think on it,” X said. “In the meantime, Commander Everhart, get your divers ready.”

“For what?” Michael asked.

“We’re doing another training run, but this time it’s going to be outside the barriers, in the storms.”