Warriors

EIGHT

X awoke on the deck of Elysium, surrounded by dozens of Cazador warriors, all clanking their sharpened teeth while tapping their spear butts on the deck in unison. Blood smeared their tattooed skin, and several had someone else’s skin draped over their own.

At first, he thought the skinwalkers were real, that Horn had finally come with his warriors to claim the throne of the Vanguard Islands. But then X saw the other onlookers.

Standing on the platform outside the command center were ghosts from his past. Hell Diver Aaron Everhart gripped the rusted railing and looked down with the same hardened gaze that X remembered from their days of diving.

Michael often had that same stoic look. He had taken after his father in other ways, too.

But the younger Everhart wasn’t here in this dream. Only dead Hell Divers joined Aaron on the platform. Will, Rodney, Sam, Pipe, and a dozen other men and women who had made the ultimate sacrifice flanked Aaron. Former diver Captain Katrina DaVita stepped onto the platform with another old soul. Captain Maria Ash glanced down at X.

Only one non-sky person stood with his old friends. Nick “Rhino” Baker had his thick arms folded over his chest. Blood wept from the gashes and holes in his body. Raising an arm with an arrow stuck through it, he pointed to another ghost, behind X.

The Cazador warriors had parted to make way for el Pulpo. The dead king wasn’t alone, but the muscular younger man walking by his side wasn’t translucent. A horn crested a scratched metal helmet, and bloody strips of skin hung like tentacles from his head.

Horn, the bastard son of el Pulpo and heir to the throne, twirled two axes through the air, the blades flinging drops of blood.

The leader of the skinwalkers had indeed come to claim the throne in this dream.

The setting shifted, and X now rowed a small fishing boat. Choppy waves slapped the hull, rocking him gently. He tried to bring in the oars, but his right arm wouldn’t respond. Glancing down, he saw why. Red vines snaked around his muscles.

He startled as something swam alongside the boat and then jumped into the air, releasing a series of chirps. The smooth gray body of a dolphin splashed him with salt spray. Another darted under the waves, and then two more joined the first two. They leaped out of the ocean, crashing back down together. The pod of spinner dolphins circled the boat.

Over the clicking and splashes came the same voices from the sky. He recognized one of them.

Dr. Huff.

X looked up at a light brighter than the sun. He raised his right hand to cover his eyes.

“We have no choice,” Huff said. “We do this now, or he dies.”

X gritted his teeth in pain and looked down again at his arm. The vines tightened, cutting off the circulation.

“If we do this, the Cazadores will challenge him and try to take the throne,” said another voice.

“If we don’t, he’ll die anyway,” replied another.

The bright light intensified, and the view of ocean and dolphins vanished. The dreamscapes darkened, leaving X in a foggy limbo where he was only half aware.

He couldn’t feel much, but he knew that something terrible was happening to his body.

Sometime later, he awoke in a room that reeked of chemicals. He forced one eye open to a bright space with gray bulkheads. Definitely not his room at the capitol tower.

He was lying on a table, unable to move, paralyzed to the point that he felt only fear. Through his blurred vision, he could see the shapes of several people huddled over him. They seemed to be wearing white masks.

“I think he’s awake,” someone said.

“How is that possible?” replied another.

X tried to speak, but no words came. Something covered his mouth and nose.

A machine beeped, drawing his attention. Just when he saw the IV, one of the medical staff stuck a needle in his left arm. He didn’t feel the prick, but a warm sensation washed over him.

He was back aboard Elysium, and there was Horn, swinging an axe at him.

The blade came down on his upper right arm with such force, it nearly severed the limb.

X tried to scream, but nothing came.

“You almost got it!” said a distant voice.

X lifted his gaze from Horn back to Aaron. His old best friend nodded at him, and the dreamscape went dark.

Memories drifted through his mind, all of them taking the shape of dreams. In one, X journeyed through the wastes with Miles. In another, he sat in the Wingman with Marv and downed as much shine as he could without falling off the stool.

The next, he was sitting by his wife’s side while her body wasted away from the cancer. The next, he was with the only other woman he ever loved. Katrina and X were alone in the launch bay, their sweaty bodies wrapped in darkness. Finally, he recalled the dive to Hades where he lost Aaron and all of Team Raptor.

These were the life events that made X who he was—a good but flawed man, who had made many mistakes but always seemed to survive while other, better men and women perished.

More memories rushed through his mind, and he wondered whether this was what it felt like to die.

But as in so many other situations that should have killed him, X didn’t die. He awoke to the sound of beeping, back in the same bright room.

Several people stood at his bedside, checking monitors and watching him. Groggy and numb, he couldn’t move and could hardly see.

He knew that these people were nurses and doctors, and this was a medical ward. But why…?

Then he saw the bandaged stump.

“No,” he mumbled.

One of the masked onlookers reached out to him.

“Xavier, it’s okay,” the voice said. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Stay calm, my king,” said another.

X squirmed, remembering the nightmare battle with Horn. It hadn’t all been a dream after all.

But how had he…?

He managed to move and saw the bloody bone saw on a stainless steel table across the room. Then he saw Dr. Huff, washing his hands in a sink.

The son of a bitch had cut off his right arm above the elbow, leaving him with nothing but a stump and ending the life he had known.

“No,” he groaned, his voice growing louder. “You took my fucking arm!”

Dr. Huff turned from the sink.

“Sir, you need to stay still,” said a female nurse.

X finally managed to raise the stump, staring at it in shock.

There was no coming back from this. The Cazadores would never follow him now. He was a one-armed king who had lost his knife hand and could no longer protect his people.

He wouldn’t be able to swing a sword, fire a gun, swim, or even write his name as he used to. He would have to learn how to do everything over again, like a damn child.

“You’re going to be okay,” said the nurse. She leaned down and used a rag to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“No, I’m not,” X growled. “Do you know what you’ve done, Doc?”

Huff walked over. “I saved your life,” he said.

“The infection had spread,” said the nurse. “We had to do it.”

X kept his gaze on the doctor.

“You would have died if we didn’t take your arm, King Xavier,” Huff said.

The old mental anguish assailed him, just as it had back in the days when he spent his free time in the Wingman before and after dives. There was only one cure for this agony.

“Shine,” he mumbled.

Red sparks burst before his vision, and he felt a sharp pain where his arm had been.

He squirmed again, bumping the nurse who stood by his side. She moved, and X saw his severed arm resting on a blood-soaked towel.

Huff came in with another needle to put him back to sleep, but X grabbed the doctor with his remaining hand.

“No more needles, Doc,” he growled. “Give me some fucking shine.”

“Can we see him?” Magnolia asked.

Her heart thumped at the news that X was in surgery. No one knew exactly what was happening behind those doors, but it must be dire. Much worse than anyone from Discovery had anticipated.

Even Captain Mitchells seemed caught off guard.

She waited in a dark passage outside the medical ward with Les and all the Hell Divers, even the greenhorns. Militia soldiers had gathered to stand sentry at both ends of the passage outside the ward.

Miles sat on his haunches outside the door, whining. Ton and Victor flanked the dog, eyes ahead, like statues.

“It’s okay,” Magnolia said, crouching down to pet the dog.

Sloan spoke in hushed tones to the militia team on the right. She then jogged back over. In the glow of burning sconce torches, sweat trickled down her brow.

“How… how is he?” she asked.

“We don’t know,” Michael said. “He’s still in surgery.”

Sloan pulled out her radio and relayed a message.

“Sergeant Wynn, you got a sitrep?”

“Yes, Lieutenant. Everyone is in position. No one is getting past our defenses around the capitol rig. Don’t worry.”

“What about the warships? Any movement?”

“Negative,” said the sergeant. “Still in the same position, and they aren’t anchored.”

“Copy that.”

Still panting from the rush to get here, she put the radio away and unslung her submachine gun.

“Word about X has spread like fire,” she said, “and my scouts have reported movement of other Cazador forces. If King Xavier dies, I fully expect Colonel Moreto and / or Colonel Forge to make a play for the throne—maybe even before.”

“I told you,” Sofia said, looking at Magnolia.

“What can we do?” Ted asked. He swept his silver hair back from his green eyes. “There has to be something.”

“Keep your blasters at the ready,” Sloan said. “For now, we wait to see what happens.”

Miles got up and turned toward echoing footsteps. Rodger jogged down the passage with two laser rifles slung over his back. He gave one to Michael and handed the other to Magnolia as she shuddered from the implications.

Sofia’s theory wasn’t just correct; Lieutenant Sloan shared it. And it was exactly what Magnolia had feared before leaving for Rio de Janeiro—and exactly why she had told Rodger to stay here and help protect X.

She glared at him, but then, things would have gone badly if he hadn’t stowed away on the Sea Wolf and gone on the mission to Rio. If not for Rodger, she would have died at the Bloodline fuel outpost. No, this wasn’t Rodger’s fault.

Whatever madness had driven Rhino and X to try to kill Colonel Vargas was on them, and she had a feeling it was probably Rhino’s decision.

Footfalls echoed as more troops filtered into the passage. The group parted to allow a heavyset man through the group. Candlelight illuminated Samson’s sweaty features.

Miles got up to check out who was coming.

“Someone want to tell me what’s going on?” Samson called out.

Sloan explained to the chief engineer.

“Have you tried contacting Colonel Forge and Colonel Moreto?” he asked.

“Yes, Moreto claims that Renegade is having engine troubles and that they are mobilizing troops just in case the skinwalkers show up,” she said. “I don’t believe a damn word of it.”

“Me, either,” Magnolia said.

Samson took in the information, then looked to the medical ward’s doors. “How is X?”

“We still don’t know,” Les said.

“I don’t understand why you kept this from us for so long,” Michael said.

The captain sighed. “I didn’t know he was in this bad a shape, Commander. It shocked me when I came down to talk to him and found out he was being hauled off to surgery.”

Sloan cleared her throat. “We specifically didn’t want this information to be released widely. It was a risk to tell Captain Mitchells even over the encrypted channel, for fear it would lead to a coup. But we told him so he could at least be prepared when you all returned.”

Les changed the subject.

“How are the airship repairs coming along?” he asked Samson.

“Going to take a while.” He dabbed his eyes with his handkerchief and stifled a cough. “You used a lot of ammunition on the mission, too, and we’re almost out of rounds for the twenty-millimeter Miniguns.”

“I know, but I had no choice,” Les said. “How far are we from getting her in the air again? She’s a sitting duck on the tower right now.”

“I could get her in the air now, Captain, but we can’t fix the thrusters or turbofans while we’re in the sky.”

“I know. Damn it, I know.” Les looked up at the ceiling, then back to Samson. “Perhaps we should consider getting her into the cloud cover, just in case the Cazadores decide to try anything.”

“That I can do, sir.”

Les didn’t look at anyone else for consideration. He simply nodded and said, “Turn on the engines. I’ll be up shortly.”

“You got it, Captain.”

Samson took off, pulling up his pants as he hurried away.

“Lieutenant, you’re the only one that seems to know what’s going on with X,” Magnolia said. “We’d all like the full story.”

Sloan waved them into a room across the hall. The Hell Divers and support staff, including Layla, walked over while Miles remained at the doors.

“Come on,” Magnolia said in a soft voice.

The dog whined and turned back to the door. The sight broke her heart, but Magnolia had to go with the other divers. She was the last inside the room and shut the door behind her.

“This is classified,” said Sloan.

“Got it,” Michael said. “Now, tell us what happened.”

“Colonel Vargas was preparing to kill X, or so General Rhino believed,” she said. “They came up with a plan to kill him first but ended up getting their small team ambushed.”

“So that’s what he was trying to tell me over the radio,” Michael said.

“X was in bad shape after,” Sloan continued, “but we got him stabilized, and he even decided to hold a damn council meeting. Then the infection started and, finally, flesh-eating bacteria.”

“Flesh-eating what?” Rodger asked.

“Necrotizing fasciitis is what Dr. Huff called it,” Sloan said. “He’s been in and out of consciousness for the past two days while medical staff tried to treat the infection with antibiotics that didn’t work.”

“His body’s been through a lot over the years,” Les said. “All that time in the wastes. Maybe it’s resistant to antibiotics now.”

“That’s what Dr. Huff thinks, too,” Sloan said, “and unfortunately, there isn’t much we could do about the flesh-eating bacteria besides hack off his arm.”

Michael bowed his head, and Layla put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said.

“X is the strongest man in the universe,” Rodger said. “He’s not going to die. He’s, like, a superhero.”

Normally, everyone would have agreed out loud, but the divers and support staff didn’t respond. They all knew how serious this was.

The door to the room swung open, and Dr. Huff stepped out with his white mask pulled down under his chin. Everyone got up from the table, boxing him in front of the doors.

“Is X out of surgery?” Les asked.

“How is he?” Michael said.

Magnolia held her breath.

The doctor looked at them in turn and then sighed. “He’s out of surgery and alive,” he said.

“When can we see him?” Michael asked.

“He needs rest, Commander. He’s got a long recovery ahead, and he isn’t out of the woods yet. These next twenty-four hours are vital to whether he survives or not.”

“Sur… vives?” Michael stammered.

“His body has been through extreme trauma, and this wasn’t just a normal infection.”

“I already told them,” Sloan said.

“Then you all know if we hadn’t cut off his arm, it would have spread and killed him.”

“Which arm?” Michael asked.

Huff checked the door to make sure it was closed. Then he seemed to relax, his shoulders slouching. “His right arm. He’s lucky to be alive, frankly.”

“Any other man wouldn’t have made it out of the Purple Pearl,” said Sloan. “He’s going to make it. I have no doubt.”

Huff didn’t reply, and Magnolia sensed he was holding something back.

“Let’s give the doc some space,” Les said. “There’s nothing we can do for X right now.”

Huff left the room, and everyone else trailed him back into the hallway. Ton and Victor moved aside so he could open the doors. Magnolia held Miles back when the dog tried to charge into the room.

She glimpsed an operating space, the floor slick with blood. The view vanished as the doors closed behind Huff.

Right before they clicked shut, a gruff voice called out, “Shine!”

Miles pulled harder, trying to get out of Magnolia’s grasp.

“It’s okay, buddy,” she said. “Your dad’s going to be okay.”

“Is that X?” Layla asked.

“He’s calling out for shine,” said Rodger.

Ted pulled a flask from his jumpsuit. “I’ve got some.”

“Put that shit away,” Magnolia said.

“Come on, let the doctor do his work,” Les said, starting away. “We need to get to the rooftop.”

Magnolia stood her ground. She didn’t want to leave this hallway with X in such bad shape. “I’m staying,” she said.

Rodger nodded.

“I am, too,” said Michael.

Les stopped and then walked back to the divers.

“Look,” he said, “I know you’re both worried, but the best thing we can do right now is do our jobs and get Discovery ready for the next mission. I’m going to fly the airship somewhere safe, and I’d like you both with me.”

“The next mission?” Michael said. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Les gave him a cold look. “Commander, I don’t like your tone,” he said.

“All due respect, sir, but I don’t like being kept in the dark about things, and while you may not have known the extent of X’s injuries, I know there are other things you aren’t telling us.”

“You are a Hell Diver, Commander Everhart,” Les said. “And what I tell you or keep from you is at my discretion. Classified information has always worked that way in the sky, as it will here at the Vanguard Islands.”

“Sir, having served under Captain Leon Jordan, I understand very well how things have worked in the past.”

“Are you, too, comparing me to Jordan now, Commander?”

Magnolia had already done it once and regretted it, but now Michael had doubled down on what he earlier chided her for.

Les, who was not easily riled, breathed heavily. The heated conversation drew the gaze of the warriors holding security outside the medical ward.

“Let’s take this somewhere else, shall we?” Magnolia suggested.

“Good idea,” Layla said.

Michael seemed to back down at her touch, but then he pulled his arm away from her hand.

“X is lying in there near death, Captain,” he said. “If we lose X, we lose everything. I’m staying here to guard him.”

Miles whined again and finally got up and walked over to sit between Magnolia and Michael. She gently scratched the dog’s head.

Les still breathed heavily, but he seemed to calm down slightly. Michael had stepped up to the doors, trying to look around the shades that had been drawn over the windows.

“I know you’re upset about X, and that he’s like a father to you, Commander, but you need to think about the big picture,” he said. “Anger is the path toward mistakes. I know from experience.”

Michael also seemed to relax. He slowly turned from the doors to face the captain. Miles settled back down, once again sitting outside the doors.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Michael said. “It’s just…”

“Emotions are running high in all of us after what happened in Rio, and back here while we were gone,” Les said. He looked at everyone in turn. “As I said before we touched down, we have to stay vigilant. All of us.”

Michael nodded.

“We’re prepared for any and all threats,” Sloan said.

Ton, Victor, and a dozen militia soldiers came closer, ready to protect the king from any attempt to finish him off.

“The tower is on lockdown,” Sloan continued, “and our aerial defenses are operational. As soon as Discovery is back in the sky, we will have a second line of defense.” She turned to Les. “Assuming you aren’t planning to take it on a mission anytime soon.”

All eyes returned to the captain.

“That depends,” he said after a pause. He let out another long sigh. “I guess it’s time I told you all the truth, but first we need to get Discovery airborne.”

“Okay,” Michael said.

“Mags, Rodge, Michael, I need your help,” Les said. “Rest of the divers, we’ll need you, too.”

Michael unslung his laser rifle and handed it to Sloan. “Use this to protect X.”

“Mine, too,” Magnolia said, handing Sloan the other rifle.

Michael led the group of Hell Divers away from the medical ward, past the militia soldiers standing guard.

“Defend X at all costs,” Michael said. “He’s done the same for all of us.”