Allegiance

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  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.

  SEVENTEEN

  Rhino had planned to boat over to the trading-post rig to talk to his old teammate Mac. Instead, he found himself headed to the only maximum-security prison in Cazador territory—a place he loathed even more than the trading post.

  The Shark’s Cage.

  With news of the skinwalkers, he didn’t have much of a choice. Horn and his crew, whom most everyone had written off for dead, had him on edge, especially since the men likely had the warship Raven’s Claw.

  Rhino pushed the throttle forward, speeding away from the Vanguard Islands.

  X stood beside him, wearing Hell Diver armor and helmet. Rhino was also in full armor today, and not just because of the water.

  The place they were going to was one of the most dangerous rigs—home to some of the worst Cazadores ever to draw breath—and the home of the only man to survive an encounter with the skinwalkers.

  Two boats followed them to the rig. One was filled with militia soldiers, the other with Cazadores. Mercury was still patrolling the barrier, and Shadow would be back out there soon, but he wasn’t sure when Renegade would return to service.

  Raven’s Claw was one of the best warships ever in the Cazadores’ fleet and could inflict a lot of damage on the islands if it returned.

  The boat reached its top safe speed, its exhaust stacks jetting black smoke into the sky. They were approaching the invisible line between light and darkness.

  A few minutes later, the boat broke through, and blackness swallowed them. Two miles into the darkness, rain pounded them, streaking down the windshield and his helmet.

  “How much farther?” X yelled over the engine noise.

  “Another twenty minutes, maybe,” Rhino said. The rig was far enough away that if anyone ever did escape from the prison, they wouldn’t be able to swim to the Vanguard Islands without being eaten by a shark first.

  X folded his arms over his chest. Rhino didn’t need to see his face to know that the king’s mind was burdened with worry. He wasn’t the only one.

  “King Xavier, there is something I need to tell you.”

  “More bad news?” X said. “Sure, pour it on.”

  Rhino took his eyes off the ocean and said, “Sir, I believe that if General Santiago does not return from Rio de Janeiro with Star Grazer, you will be overthrown in a bloody battle. A battle I can’t prevent unless drastic measures are taken—and a battle we can’t win, even if I manage to put together a team, unless we act first.”

  “So you want me to kill Ada and start another war?” X said.

  “This is not about Ada, King Xavier.” Rhino twisted the wheel to avoid a wave. “This is about striking first, before our enemies do.”

  “Striking who, exactly?”

  “Vargas, for starters. I almost killed him myself last night on Elysium. But Colonel Moreto is also a threat. She showed her hand at the Sky Arena, when she invoked the rights of the Black Order of Octopus Lords.”

  “If I remove them, won’t that cause a war? Won’t the soldiers under your command all revolt?”

  “Very possibly. I would not be surprised if their supporters came to avenge them.”

  X uncrossed his arms. “So what would you have me do? Kill every Cazador soldier? Then what do we do when the defectors or these skinwalkers show up and start ripping people apart and stitching them into blankets?”

  Rhino empathized. They both were warriors trying to be civilized in a barbaric world filled with monsters of every kind: mutant, metallic, and human.

  “Tonight, I’m heading to the trading post to seek allies,” Rhino said. “Then, with your permission, I will slit Colonel Vargas’s throat in his sleep. No one will know who did it. I’ll start with him and then take out Colonel Moreto.”

  “I don’t know,” X said. He stared ahead into the darkness, his knees flexing up and down, absorbing the shocks as the speedboat bounced over the swells. “Perhaps we should let the council weigh in when General Santiago, Magnolia, and Les return.”

  “King Xavier, I don’t know how you did things in the sky, but on the Metal—Vanguard—Islands, we do not vote on matters such as this. And frankly, the odds of General Santiago returning are not good.”

  X grabbed the gunwale railing to brace himself but didn’t respond.

  “No one liked el Pulpo’s bastard,” Rhino said, “but if he still lives, he is a challenger to the throne. If he shows up, Colonel Vargas and others might join him. We must strike first.”

  X let go of the railing and faced Rhino. “You do what you must, then, and let me deal with my people.”

  A blue gash of lightning split the horizon. X gave a weary nod and stuck out his hand. Thunder boomed as they shook on it.

  The bow lights finally picked out a shape rising above the waves. A lonely silo-shaped structure was the only oil rig outside the barrier of light. On the top of the flat roof, several rusted old-world helicopters perched like gargoyles, overlooking the tower walls.

  Rhino eased the throttle back and steered toward the pier, where several spotlights raked back and forth, turning the dark surface bright as day.

  “Why do you even have a prison?” X asked. “I thought you guys liked killing each other in the Sky Arena.”

  “Some people are too crazy even for that,” Rhino said. “Besides, the people here contribute to the economy by making our bombs and
bullets.”

  “Has anyone ever escaped?”

  “Once, a prisoner found a way to sneak explosive powder back to his cell. He saved up enough that he eventually blew his way out,” Rhino said. “He got pretty torn up in the razor wire but managed to get to the water.”

  “And then?”

  “No one saw him again. As you will see, this place was built to keep people inside.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  A Cazador soldier in full armor slung his assault rifle over his shoulder, grabbed the side of the boat, and pulled it in.

  X jumped out first, and the soldier standing sentry pounded his chest armor. While he tethered the boat, a second guard walked down to meet the other two boats. The group followed the two guards toward a gate blocking off a secondary steel door twice Rhino’s height. The soldiers unlocked the first gate and pushed the double doors open. An alarm blared and red lights swirled over the metal decks.

  Inside, a central guard tower rose all the way to the ceiling. Windows gave the guards inside a view of the prisoners on all ten levels.

  Rhino looked up at the circular mezzanines bordering the barred cells of each level, patrolled by guards with cattle prods. The double doors sealed behind the visitors with a thud, and the Klaxons and red lights clicked off.

  “This level is for the guards,” Rhino said. He pointed to one of two doors in the bulkhead. “That’s the mess and barracks.”

  “Wonderful,” X said, “but I came to see the prisoner that’s going to tell me about the skinwalkers.”

  “Yes, of course, we’ll head up in a moment,” Rhino said. He took off his helmet, breathing in the steamy air and waiting while his eyes adjusted to the dim lightning.

  Now, with the sirens off, nothing blocked out the bedlam of screams and howls. The guards shocked some of the more unruly inmates away from the bars, but they wailed on in Spanish and other tongues.

  “Everyone but Sloan and Rhino is to stay here,” X said to the militia guards. They fanned out on the open first floor, looking up at the prisoners, who gawked back at them from behind the bars.

  Rhino ordered his team to stay behind, too. He followed the two main guards into a stairwell, and the sounds faded once the door closed behind them.

  “The best workers are kept on these lower floors,” Rhino said. “They are the most valuable to us.”

  “Let me guess, then,” X said. “We’re going to the top.”

  “Indeed.”

  As they went up, the shouting from the prisoners grew louder until Rhino could hear them over the pounding of boots on stair treads.

  On the ninth floor, the guards opened the door to a rusty mezzanine. Rhino nodded at the guard behind the tower glass. A ten-foot gap and an electric mesh fence separated the tower windows from the mezzanine.

  Another guard gave an electric zap to a prisoner who tried to get a view of Rhino’s team. The two guards accompanying the three visitors moved out toward their comrade at once, hitting the bars of the cells as the group passed. One man didn’t let go in time and took a jolt. He hit the floor, baring his teeth like a wild beast.

  The guards continued around the circular walkway. Many of the prisoners inside the cells were missing fingers, and a few had even lost a limb to the ordnance and bullets they made.

  Halfway around the platform, the group stopped in front of a cell. The prisoner gripped the bars, looking at them in turn with sad, dark eyes. Both guards shouted for him to get back, and when he didn’t, they used their prods. The electrical current didn’t have the same effect on this sinewy Cazador. He made a grunting noise but did not scream like the others.

  “What the hell is wrong with this guy?” Sloan asked.

  The prisoner finally stepped back and opened his mouth as if to yell, but all they heard was another flurry of grunting noises. It was then that Rhino knew, they had their man.

  “Gael, estamos aquí para discutir a los cueros andantes,” Rhino said. To X, he said, “I told him we’re here to talk about the skinwalkers.”

  “The guy’s got no tongue,” X observed. “How’s he going to tell us anything?”

  Rhino reached into his pack and pulled out a map and a pencil. Then he pulled out an apple and an orange.

  “Fresh fruit,” Rhino said. “Works like a charm.” He held them up to the bars for the prisoner to sniff. “Now, get back and do as I say, and I’ll give them to you.”

  Gael hesitated, then shook his head.

  “You don’t want this?” Rhino asked. He brought the apple up to his mouth but stopped shy of taking a bite.

  Gael reached out for it, letting out another guttural noise.

  “Back up, and I’ll give you this,” Rhino said.

  Gael retreated to his bunk.

  “Open it,” Rhino said.

  “Sir, that goes against procedure,” one of the guards replied in English.

  “Do it,” X said.

  The guard looked at X, then fiddled with the key chain on his belt. He opened the door, and Rhino and X went in, leaving Sloan outside. The small space was furnished only with a bunk covered in straw, and a small desk and stool.

  Rhino tossed Gael the apple. He caught it midair and bit into it like a Siren with a fresh carcass.

  “Why is he a prisoner?” X asked while the man inhaled the fruit.

  “For fleeing the battle with Horn,” Rhino said. “He deserted his comrades, which is normally punishable by death. But we kept him alive since he’s the only one who knows anything about Horn. And he was a mechanic—knows how to make bullets.”

  “But he’s never said what happened that day?”

  “Only to el Pulpo,” Rhino said. “And to my knowledge, el Pulpo never told anyone.”

  “Give me the orange,” X said.

  Rhino handed it over, and X peeled off the skin while Gael watched. That seemed to agitate the prisoner, and he reared away.

  It then struck X that he was doing to the orange basically what the skinwalkers did to their enemies. As soon as he stopped, Gael stepped back to the bars.

  “Show us what happened out there and where Raven’s Claw went, and you get the orange,” Rhino said in Spanish, holding up the pencil.

  “Tell him if he does that, he can have a bucket full of oranges,” X said.

  Rhino relayed the message.

  The prisoner’s gaze flitted from Rhino to X. His hand darted out and snatched the pencil. Then he picked up the pad of paper and scribbled for several moments, drawing what appeared to be a crude map with a few lines of illegible text. With a shaky hand, he drew a line on the map, and then a circle. He glanced up, like a child looking for approval.

  Rhino picked up the paper.

  “What’s it say?” X asked.

  “Something about a great journey,” Rhino said. “Horn took the warship to …” He held up the paper and pointed to what looked like a skull. “Then what is …”

  Rhino looked closer at the map. The line did indeed go where he suspected.

  “What?” X asked.

  “He says Horn took Raven’s Claw to the former colony that we aban­doned many years ago,” Rhino said. “A place we call la Escolta—the Outrider.”

  X pointed at the circle on the map.

  “And what’s that?” he asked.

  Rhino swallowed. “The Vanguard Islands,” he said. “Just as I feared, the bastard must be planning to come back for his throne.”

  * * * * *

  Magnolia sat in the hot lower compartment of Star Grazer with six half-naked Cazador warriors. Sofia sat beside her on a crate, trying to explain the complicated game that involved dice, a deck of dog-eared cards, and a lighter.

  So far, Magnolia wasn’t having much luck, and not because of intimida­tion. The Cazadores had certainly tried clacking their teeth, pounding their chests, and yelling,
but she didn’t fear them. She had decided yesterday that if she was going to fight alongside them, she would get to know them. And what better way than by playing cards?

  Rodger, by contrast, had no desire to know these people or join in their games. He sat in a chair across the open barracks, tongue sticking out in rapt concentration as he carved a wood figurine.

  That was fine. She didn’t want him to see her lose, and so far, she was doing little else.

  “How about poker?” Magnolia said. “This shit is rigged.”

  “It’s not rigged just because you suck,” Sofia said.

  Magnolia sighed. “You know, I was happy when Les sent you down here to make sure nothing happened to us, but now I’m not so sure.” She squinted at Sofia’s cards. “Are you cheating?”

  Sofia laughed. “no!”

  “We shall see …” Magnolia said. She was glad to have Sofia down here with them, but it wouldn’t be for the entire journey. When they reached the destination, Sofia would return to the airship and join Michael’s team.

  Sudden shouting interrupted the game. Across the room, a Cazador pounded down the ladder, waving. He wasn’t here to play cards.

  “¡Vengan rápido!” he shouted.

  The Cazador warriors all hopped off their crates and chairs.

  “What’s going on?” she asked Sofia.

  Sofia shrugged. “No—”

  Automatic gunfire jolted Rodger out of his chair.

  “Armor up,” Magnolia said. “We must be under attack.”

  The three divers threw on their armor and helmets, grabbed their weapons, and headed up the ladder.

  The sounds of battle reminded Magnolia of the day the sky people had shown up at the Metal Islands to save her. Machine guns barked from the turrets, firing into the water as Cazadores ran across the deck toward their stations.

  “What’s going on?” she shouted.

  “No clue!” Rodger yelled back.

  The bow cannons boomed, and twin geysers erupted and then fell back to the surface.

  After the next shot came a flurry of loud clicking sounds. But this noise wasn’t from the weapons. It came from whatever they were shooting at.