Warriors

ELEVEN

Several days after Dr. Huff lopped his arm off, X left his quarters for the second time with Miles. An escort of guards, led by Lieutenant Sloan, accompanied him up the short walk from his quarters to the command center on the capitol tower.

The five-minute jaunt took him three times that, and he had to stop three times to catch his breath. It wasn’t all from fatigue and injuries—he had a wicked hangover.

“You’re sure about this?” Sloan said for a second time.

He shot her a glare.

“Okay, boss,” she said.

He led the way, trying not to puke. The night of his surgery, Sloan had practically carried him out to the rooftop to look over the rigs. Much of that night was hazy, but he grinned at what he could recall.

“Dr. Huff just saved your life, and now you’re going to kill yourself?” she had yelled. “He can’t bring you back to life again!”

X would have laughed if laughing didn’t hurt. The stump where his arm had been connected still burned, and the scabs from his many wounds were soft from days in bed.

On top of that, his head was in constant fog, as if storm clouds had settled in his brain. It wasn’t all from the shine and wine. Everything since the Purple Pearl seemed like a bad dream. The flesh-eating bacteria, the fever dreams of Ada in the wastes, the losses incurred in Rio de Janeiro, and Colonel Moreto’s betrayal. But for the Barracudas, she would have stormed the capitol tower and the Hive to slaughter his people.

General Rhino’s spirit had watched over him that night. His former team of Barracudas, led by Mac and Felipe, had recruited a team to attack Carmela. With an assist from Michael and Magnolia, they had captured her and scotched a coup d’état.

“Here we are,” Sloan said.

Miles trotted toward the command center hatch, where Victor and Ton stood sentry.

“King Xavier,” Victor said in his thick accent.

The dusky warrior and his comrade both came to attention. It was the first time they had seen him in days.

“Evenin’, fellas,” X said.

Sloan switched on a light over stacks of maps and books on the table. His requested bottle of wine sat in the center. He poured himself a glass. Just the thing for a shine hangover.

“I’ll come back in a bit,” said Sloan. “Got some stuff to check on.”

X started his briefing on everything he had missed over the past week. Miles went under the table and conked out at his feet.

When Sloan returned, he had gone through the reports on the militia’s defensive positions, along with two more glasses of wine.

Sloan picked up the bottle, now over half empty, and asked, “How many glasses have you had?”

“This is my second,” he lied. “These are small glasses.”

Her lazy eye watched him take another drink.

“Sir, I just think you should try to stay sober before our meeting.”

X snickered. “You don’t think I’m sober? You clearly haven’t seen me drunk.”

“Actually, I have, sir, but I was just a kid. It was before a dive when you brought back nuclear fuel cells. Not everyone came back.”

All trace of jocularity vanished with the memory. The dive had cost him his entire team, including his best friend and Michael’s father, Aaron.

Grabbing the bottle, he filled the glass to the brim, ready to drown the memories.

A rap came on the hatch, and Dr. Huff walked in, breathing heavily.

“Oh, great,” X muttered.

“I rushed here when I heard you left your bed again,” Huff said. “Xavier, what am I going to do with you?”

“Hopefully not chop off my other arm.”

Sloan did smirk at that.

Huff’s eyes narrowed, forming crow’s-feet around the edges.

“I’m kidding, Doc,” X said. “In hindsight, I’m glad you did it.”

“After you came out of surgery, you said you were going to rip my arms off and beat me to death with them.”

“I’m sorry, Doc, truly.” X raised his glass, almost sloshing the wine. “Thank you for bringing me back from the brink.”

Huff’s eyes narrowed again. “Is that alcohol?”

Sloan nodded. “His third or fourth glass, if I had to guess.”

“I need it for the pain,” X said. “Now, can we get this checkup over with? The rest of the team will be here shortly.”

Huff snorted, and Miles let out a low growl. X scratched the dog’s head while the doc checked his vitals and took off the bandage.

“You’re healing ten times as fast, thanks to this,” Huff said, smearing on the nanotech gel Colonel Forge had gifted them with. “As long as you rest, you’ll make a full recovery.”

The doctor looked over at Sloan as he packed up his gear. “Make sure he follows my orders for once,” he said.

Sloan nodded.

The doctor left them, and X rose from his seat, trying not to show any discomfort.

Michael, Magnolia, Rodger, and Sofia entered in their new black jumpsuits with their team crests on the breast. Edgar was with them, and so were rookie divers Ted, Lena, Hector, and Alberto.

Arlo limped in after them, holding his belly and wincing.

“Surprised you made it here, kid,” X said.

The young diver smiled, revealing two missing teeth. “Surprised to see you on your feet, too, sir.”

X greeted the other divers with a forced smile. Only Sofia did not acknowledge him. He knew that she placed some of the blame for Rhino’s death at his feet.

So did he. He should have killed Vargas long ago.

Next through the door was Les, in his dress whites, along with Eevi, and finally Samson, wearing oil-stained coveralls.

“Let’s get started,” X said. “Samson, you’re up first. How are the repairs coming on Discovery?”

“Good and bad, sir,” said the engineer. “We’re making headway on the second bank of thrusters, but two turbofans need new parts that I haven’t been able to salvage anywhere.”

“There is another option,” Les said.

Samson shook his head. “I told you this already, Captain. I don’t want to take them from the Hive.”

“Why not?” X asked.

“Sir, I wasn’t a big fan of decommissioning her in the first place, for the simple reason that we might need her again.”

X had a feeling that was where this was going. “If you strip the Hive, can she still fly?”

“Yeah, but not as fast as we might need her to if we have to pack up in a hurry,” Samson said.

“If we can’t get Discovery fully operational, it won’t matter,” Les cut in. “The skinwalkers will come, and if the defectors find us, we’re done for. There is no escaping them. We have to strike first.”

X pulled out Les’s handwritten note about the machines. “I still haven’t read this yet, Captain.”

“That’s classified,” Les reminded him.

“I’m declassifying it with everyone in this room,” X replied. He rubbed his forehead. “Samson, if you can’t find the spare parts elsewhere, take them from the Hive. Captain Mitchells is right: Discovery is more important to us right now than our old home.”

“All right, sir,” Samson said. He coughed into his handkerchief.

“And see Dr. Huff about that cough.”

Samson grumbled something.

X checked Eevi, who hadn’t said a word. She stared ahead, almost in a trance, before seeing he was looking at her.

He gave her a small nod, simply to say he was grateful to have her back at work.

“Let’s move on to the survivors from Rio de Janeiro before we talk more about the defectors,” X said.

“They are still in isolation, but the immune boosters should have kicked in,” Sloan said. “We’re waiting for Dr. Huff to clear them.”

“Good,” X said. “And how are our defenses just in case the skinwalkers show up?”

“Tight as they can be,” Sloan said. “Colonel Forge is helping secure the borders with warships Shadow and Renegade.”

X was anxious to meet the colonel again, to judge whether this was all another Cazador ploy, or if he really could trust the man. With Rhino gone, he needed a new ally.

X looked to Michael. “I want you to restart the greenhorns’ training as soon as possible,” he ordered. “I’ve done all I can for them while you were gone.”

“Not a problem, sir, assuming Discovery isn’t going anywhere soon,” Michael said with a subtle glance at Les.

The captain didn’t say anything, but X picked up on some tension between the two.

“We might need Discovery to deal with the skinwalkers, too,” X said. “The question is, do we try and hunt them down before they have a chance to attack?”

He checked everyone in the room for their reaction, stopping last on Arlo, who was staring at his stump.

“You want to see what it looks like without the bandage, or what, kid?” X asked.

Arlo stiffened. “No, sir. I mean…”

“Moving on to the defectors,” X said.

Les rolled out a map he had brought, and draped it over the table.

“This does not leave this room,” X said.

Everyone nodded except for Arlo.

“Arlo, you listenin’?” X asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Les used a pin to tap a place in East Africa once known as Tanzania. Someone had already drawn a red circle around a mountainous area.

“Has anyone heard of Mount Kilimanjaro?” the captain asked.

X recalled the name but couldn’t place it.

“You might recall learning about Captain Sean Rolo, of the ITC Victory,” Les said. “Decades ago, he decided to make the dangerous trek across the ocean, looking for a habitable spot to put down in Africa.”

“I remember that now,” Magnolia said. “Captain Ash mentioned it in her logs before she died—how he had reported minimal radiation and weaker electrical storms.”

“I think we all know what happened to the airship and Captain Rolo’s crew after their final transmission.” Les studied the map. “The ITC machine base Pedro identified is located there.”

“Why Africa?” Sloan asked.

“Why not?” X said. “It makes perfect strategic sense to me. I’d bet the next batch of Cazador wine the base is buried inside that mountain.”

“I hope you’re wrong,” Les said.

“What I don’t understand is how there is zero evidence of this offensive,” X said. “If there was a worldwide effort to destroy the machines, it’d be in the archives, right?”

“I asked Timothy this very question, and he believes it was lost to the blackout,” Les said. “The history of these final days before the end vanished in the disruption of all communication networks worldwide.”

X recalled the event Magnolia had discovered when they were sailing on the Sea Wolf to what were then the Metal Islands.

“I believe Pedro is telling the truth,” Les said.

“We have no reason to doubt him,” X said. “Just asking.”

A rap came on the door, and Sloan walked over to open it.

Sergeant Wynn entered with Mac and Felipe. The two Cazadores stood in front of the table as everyone turned to look.

Grimacing from a jolt of pain, X walked over and shook their hands.

“Those who haven’t had the honor, meet Mac and Felipe,” X said. “They fought with General Rhino on the Barracudas and helped me kill Colonel Vargas.”

Everyone in the room nodded at the men.

“I invited them here to thank them for helping capture Colonel Moreto and to seek their counsel on what we should do with her,” X said. “Mac, please speak.”

“Thank you, King Xavier,” Mac said. He translated X’s words for Felipe, who bowed slightly. The young Cazador warrior was still covered in bandages and bruises from the fight that killed Rhino.

X felt the overwhelming dread that hadn’t ceased since the ambush at the Purple Pearl. Losing the big man had hit him harder than most other deaths in his lifetime. Combined with all the other losses, especially Katrina, and his guilt over sending Ada to her likely death, X felt the darkness of depression returning.

Only a few people knew the truth of what X had done, and he was having a hard time keeping it from Michael.

“So, Mac, do you agree with what General Rhino suggested I do with Colonel Moreto?” X asked.

The old man smiled. “What do you think we were trying to do for you, King Xavier?”

“It is different when Cazadores kill each other than when sky people kill them,” X said. “If I lop off her head, will Colonel Forge and the rest of the military be emboldened to avenge her?”

“Not if you do it the Cazador way,” Mac said.

Magnolia almost shot up from her seat. “Sir,” she said, “I was never a big fan of their customs, but you gotta let me do this.”

Maybe it was the hangover, or maybe X was a bit drunk again, but he wasn’t following their conversation.

“What are you guys talking about?” he asked.

“I want to invoke the Black Order of the Octopus Lords, or whatever that stupid shit’s called,” Magnolia said. “I’ll face her in the Sky Arena.”

“Mags, no,” Rodger said, reaching for her arm.

She sidled away from his hand.

“I can take her out easily,” Magnolia said.

X had no doubt of that, but letting one of his best divers enter the arena was still a huge risk.

“Come on, X,” she said. “Don’t make me beg.”

He reached down to pet Miles as the dog panted and looked up at him. His old friend was tired and thirsty.

So was X. To deal with life right now, he needed something harder than fermented fruit.

“I want to talk to Colonel Forge before I decide what to do with her,” X said. He grabbed the bottle of wine. “Arrange a meeting. Until then, I’ll be in my quarters.”

Michael tried to tune out the noise from the work on Discovery. Purple and orange streaks carved up the horizon as the sun retreated behind distant storms for another day.

Hand in hand, Michael and Layla were enjoying a break in the tropical gardens before he must head to the great hall for the meeting between King Xavier and Colonel Forge. After a day shift working on the airship, the hour with Layla before his next task flew by.

He wasn’t sure how many more short dates like this they would have before the next emergency. Defectors, skinwalkers, and uncertain alliances within the Cazador military—threats were encroaching on the paradise of the Vanguard Islands.

Peace, it seemed, was as uncertain as on the day he arrived here.

Michael and Layla strolled through the gardens, enjoying the scents of fruit and flowers. Still, it was impossible to ignore the reason for the construction going on across the rooftop, where new machine-gun emplacements were being rigged behind sandbags.

Several spearguns the size of old-world lampposts angled over the edge of the rooftop, ready to sink boats. There were even flamethrowers to scorch any climbers off the wall.

Sloan and Wynn had gone all out to protect the heart of the Vanguard Islands and the decommissioned Hive.

Any other day Michael might have been able to forget about these things and live in the moment with Layla, taking in the beauty of the tropical gardens. But tonight, he was having a hard time.

“What’s wrong, Tin?” she asked.

Everything, he wanted to reply. But he didn’t want to burden her with his worries. She was seven months along, and he had to be strong for them both.

“I’m okay, just really tired.”

“You’re more than tired.” She squeezed his hand. “Please talk to me.”

“I don’t know. I guess seeing X drinking again has me stirred up.”

“I was wondering what you thought about that, but try not to worry. He’s been through a lot.”

They kept walking through the maze of fruit trees until they reached the fresh graves on the other side.

“I still can’t believe she did it,” Layla said.

Michael looked at Ada’s grave. They had held a brief ceremony for her, keeping it small. It was only now sinking in that she was gone. After killing the Cazadores, she had lost her way and taken her own life.

“Me, either.”

They walked toward the airship, trying not to dwell on yet another tragic loss. Discovery was again parked on the rooftop, with a throng of red and yellow jumpsuits working underneath. Cricket was helping a team take off a turbofan.

Michael checked his wrist computer. He still had another twenty minutes before he must head to the meeting with Colonel Forge and King Xavier.

He led Layla over to the railing. A pod of spinner dolphins jumped the wake of a speedboat jetting away from the piers below.

On the horizon, three fishing trawlers sailed toward the trading rig to sell or barter off the day’s catch.

But it wasn’t just civilian and merchant ships and boats on the horizon. Warships were anchored out there.

Renegade and Elysium were within view, with militia boats surrounding them in case a new rebellion hatched to free Colonel Moreto.

Layla cupped her belly. “Bray’s active today,” she said with a dimpled smile. Michael put a hand around her waist.

The spinner dolphins chased another boat. On the rooftop, several figures patrolled around the defensive points.

Shouting came from the direction of Discovery.

Michael moved away from the railing. Mechanics and engineers were crowded around the turbofan they had taken down for repairs.

Several men jumped back as Cricket used one of its new limbs to open the side panel. Something white and red slopped out from the interior.

“Gross!” Layla said. “What is that?”

Michael wasn’t sure from this distance, but the excited voices confirmed his suspicions. A Siren had hidden inside the fan until it turned on.

He wanted to enjoy a few more minutes alone with Layla, but a glance to the piers confirmed his time was up.

A war boat with a raised white flag was puttering in. Colonel Forge stood on the deck, surrounded by Cazador warriors. Militia soldiers moved out onto the docks to receive them.

“Do you think we will ever live in peace?” Layla asked.

“I do, honestly,” Michael replied, “and I still believe it is X who will help us achieve it. That the islands exist, and that we survived to get here, proves that miracles happen.”

“Katrina believed this place was worth dying for. Now I know why. It’s more than a haven. It’s the place Bray deserves.”

“That’s why we have to do everything we can to protect it.”

She turned from the railing to face him. “Does that mean you’re going back out there?”

“I…”

“Michael, I’ve supported your mission to find survivors in the past, even after Trey died, and then in Rio de Janeiro, but Bray is almost here.”

“I know.”

“You found your survivors. What more do you want?” Layla sighed. “I suppose you won’t stop until you’ve searched every corner of the earth.”

“Other survivors deserve the chance we have here.”

“I agree, but how many missions before your luck runs out?”

“How long until our luck here runs out?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that from everyone,” she said. “But this place has survived a very long time without the defectors finding it, if that’s what you mean. And the skinwalkers seem like a threat we can handle.”

“I don’t want to leave you and Bray,” Michael said.

“Then don’t.”

He nodded.

“Tell me you won’t.”

Michael swallowed. “I… I’m a Hell Diver, Layla.”

“So was I. But I quit, for Bray.”

“We don’t both have that luxury,” Michael said. “And I don’t want to make you a promise I can’t keep. And don’t forget, part of the reason I’m training new divers is so that someday I can retire and be a father and husband.”

A voice across the rooftop called his name. Sloan and several militia soldiers approached.

“Go,” Layla said, turning away.

“Layla, please, let’s talk about this later.”

“It’s always later with you.”

Sloan was panting. “Sorry to interrupt, Commander, but we need to get down to the great hall,” she said. “Colonel Forge and his men are here.”

Layla still wouldn’t turn to look at him, and he left her there, again putting duty first. Walking away, he glanced over his shoulder, but she was still gazing out over the water.

He and Sloan crossed the rooftop in silence and walked down the stairs to the great hall. Torches burned in sconces, the light dancing over the bulkheads and vaulted ceilings overhead.

X sat on the throne, slouching a little, a glass of wine on the arm of the chair. Seeing him drinking again worried Michael, but maybe this was just a phase to get him through the mental anguish. It was always the darkness in his mind that brought X back to the bottle.

Imulah joined them. Next came Les. He stood next to Michael.

At least a dozen militia soldiers took up positions across the massive space. Ton and Victor flanked X, and Wynn stood in front of the platform where X sat.

The king barely looked at Michael, but Miles thumped his tail.

“We’re ready when you are, King Xavier,” Sloan called out.

X slowly rose from his seat and gestured to open the doors. Two militia soldiers in shiny black armor with red Vanguard crests pulled them open.

The guards escorted Colonel Forge toward the platform.

The rest of the guards who had accompanied Forge were kept outside with a group of heavily armed militia soldiers.

Boots clanked down the tile floor, echoing in the large room.

“Tell Colonel Forge I appreciate him coming, and I’m grateful for the medicine he delivered,” X said. “Tell him also that I guarantee his safety.”

Imulah relayed the message, and Colonel Forge bowed slightly.

X sat down again. He was pale and should be in bed, but the man simply wouldn’t listen to orders. Michael doubted that he would ever change.

“Imulah, ask Colonel Forge who is in charge of the Cazador fleet,” X said.

Forge responded by hammering his chest armor.

“Then why did you allow Colonel Moreto to threaten the capitol tower during my surgery?” X asked.

This took Forge a few moments.

“Sir,” Imulah said, “Colonel Forge says Colonel Moreto claimed she was having engine troubles, and it is custom not to interfere with another officer’s warship. Further, Colonel Forge said that if she had moved on the capitol tower, he would have stopped her, and that if he wanted you dead, he would have told her your secret.”

X smirked. “You expect me to believe that hunk of whale shit?”

The scribe hesitated, but X told him to repeat the message.

“Colonel Forge says he can prove he is telling the truth, and if you want him to kill Colonel Moreto, he will proudly fulfill your request.”

Sloan looked back at X and said something Michael couldn’t make out from where he stood.

“This is all crap,” Les whispered.

“How can he prove it?” X asked. “And what is my secret?”

Imulah asked Forge, who took a step closer to the throne. Ton’s and Victor’s spears moved downward.

The colonel stopped and looked at the men in turn, then back to X.

Imulah interpreted for Forge.

“He says he knows the truth about the Lion and that you will know what he means by that. If he had let this information out, you would already be dead, but he does not want another war.”

X got out of his chair, stumbling slightly. He walked down to the edge of the platform. Michael felt a chill run through him, though he wasn’t sure whether it came from the news or seeing the two warriors staring each other down.

“The truth about the Lion?” X asked.

Forge spoke, holding the king’s gaze.

“He says Lieutenant Sloan and Colonel Vargas are not the only ones with spies on the rigs, and he’s uncovered the truth about Lieutenant Ada Winslow,” Imulah said.

X’s cracked lips moved, but no words came out.

Forge pounded his chest armor and put his hand on his sword pommel as he spoke.

“Colonel Forge says it would be customary to grant Colonel Moreto a chance to fight for her life in the Sky Arena,” said the scribe. “He also says that he will be the one to take her head if you so wish, King Xavier.”

Michael watched as X seemed to deliberate for a few seconds.

“No, I’ll let Magnolia have the honor,” he finally said. “I’ve got other plans for Colonel Forge.”

X narrowed his gaze on the stone-faced colonel. “I want him to head to the Iron Reef in Belize, secure the other fuel outpost, and bring us back a tanker.”

Imulah relayed the request and Forge nodded.

“Sí, rey Javier,” he said.

The colonel backed away, and X sat back down to take a drink of wine.

“Everyone but Michael and Les, leave me,” he said.

The rest of the room emptied, leaving only the three men.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Michael,” X said. “Les already knows.”

Michael raised a brow.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Ada… She didn’t kill herself,” he said. “I exiled her while you were away.”

“What! ”

“I don’t know if Colonel Forge knows that, but if he knows what she did to the Lion, he holds the cards now.”

“So what do we do?” Les asked.

“If Forge completes the mission and keeps what happened to the Lion a secret, he will have my trust and respect,” X said. “If not… shit, Captain, I have no idea, but it will likely be very bloody.”