Allegiance

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “Skinwalkers,” Alejo said.

  “!Hijo de la gran puta!” Santiago yelled. Magnolia knew this one from gambling with the Cazador warriors—something about a son of some great whore.

  The big man did not speak but simply gestured for them to lower their weapons. Alejo kept his rifle trained on him, and so did Magnolia and Rodger.

  An arrow crunched through Alejo’s armored shoulder, knocking him backward. A second hit his weapon, knocking it from his hand. Rodger and Magnolia finally lowered their weapons.

  Santiago laid his shotgun on the ground and drew his sword. The skinwalkers fanned out into a circle around him but did not riddle him with arrows as Magnolia had expected after the insult.

  “Saludos, general,” Horn said in a voice that sounded almost robotic. “Nos encontramos de nuevo.”

  Santiago replied in only a few words that Magnolia understood, but she didn’t need a translator to know that the two men were about to fight to the death.

  She subtly glanced at the sinkhole, gauging whether she could make a run for it with Rodger and Alejo, but two bowmen had already flanked them and nocked their arrows.

  She crouched beside Alejo to check his wounds. Blood trickled down his armor. He snapped the end off one arrow.

  “The pinche cabrón must have heard your radio messages to the people in the bunker,” he groaned.

  “I thought the Cazadores don’t use radios,” she whispered.

  “They don’t transmit, but that doesn’t mean they don’t listen.”

  Alejo stumbled, then rested his back against a wall. He was done for unless they got him patched up soon, and the only way to do that was to get into the sinkhole.

  “We led him right to the bunker, didn’t we?” she said.

  Alejo nodded. “And now they are going to fillet us like fish unless General Santiago pulls off a miracle.”

  Metal clashed against metal as Santiago’s sword met Horn’s axes. The leader of the skinwalkers jumped backward, avoiding the next sword stroke. He swung one of his blades at Santiago, following it with the other axe.

  The second blade clipped the armor covering the general’s right arm but did not penetrate. He thrust his sword at Horn, and Horn parried the blow with an axe.

  A screech sounded. The clanging weapons had alerted a male Siren. The beast swooped down to examine the noises, only to crash into the debris pile, bristling with arrows.

  Magnolia used the distraction to tell Rodger to get ready to run. He nodded back, but Alejo shook his head.

  “You won’t make it,” he said.

  “We have to try.”

  The dying Siren somehow managed to push itself up on the sidewalk. Six arrows stuck out of the wrinkled flesh. Two skinwalkers ran over with swords drawn.

  The beast slashed at the air, but one of the men cut the taloned hand off, and the two went to work, stabbing until it finally stopped moving.

  The general slashed at Horn, who brought up his axes together, deflecting the blade and pushing Santiago backward several feet.

  Horn then swung with his right axe, very nearly slicing Santiago across the gut. Old but still agile, the general back-stepped, following with a jab to the face. But his adversary twisted, and the horn cresting his helmet deflected the thrust.

  The miss knocked Santiago off-kilter, and he staggered, allowing an opening. This time, the axe got through, crunching into his ribs. The general screamed in pain as Horn yanked the blade free.

  Santiago bent over, gripping the gushing wound.

  The other skinwalkers looked at the sky and streets for hostiles, knowing that the scent of fresh blood would draw them.

  This was Magnolia’s chance. “Rodger, now!” she said.

  Scooping up her rifle, she got off two quick bolts, through the chests of both distracted soldiers on their flanks. Then she grabbed Alejo and helped him to his feet. He pulled a pistol and fired, dropping a bowman.

  One of the faster skinwalkers let an arrow fly. Alejo stumbled behind Magnolia from a bolt to his side. He took down the shooter with his pistol and then looked over at Magnolia as several arrows cut the air between them.

  “run!” he shouted.

  Two more arrows hit him in the chest, and another went through his thigh. He went down on one knee, screaming a war cry.

  Magnolia dashed after Rodger while looking over her shoulder. Lieutenant Alejo killed two more of Horn’s men before they finally brought him down. It took seven arrows to finish him off.

  A last glance over her shoulder showed Santiago on his knees, gripping his bleeding side. Horn brought up both axes to finish the last of the Cazadores who had sailed with the sky people.

  Arrows hissed past her and Rodger as they zigzagged toward the vines. They were almost there, but any second now, she would feel the inevitable stab. Even if the bolt didn’t kill her right away, the tear in her suit would.

  She gritted her teeth and prepared to jump. Rodger tripped on a vine, falling just as an arrow streaked over him.

  Magnolia reached down to help him, firing the laser rifle for cover. A skinwalker went down from a blast to the face, but the others closed in with their bows.

  In a stolen moment, she saw Santiago’s slumping headless body, with twin geysers of blood jetting out of the neck.

  Horn raised a bloody axe in the air, then pointed it at Magnolia and Rodger. She grabbed his hand and pulled him up. As they stumbled for cover, a flash came out of the sky.

  Then a second flash.

  Behind the skinwalkers, a projectile detonated, blowing pieces of two men skyward.

  Using the brief window, the two divers hopped over a thick braid of vines and into the hole. Rodger skidded down the side, screaming all the way down, while Magnolia ducked behind the wall of flora and fired her laser rifle at the two men pursuing them.

  Both went down with smoking holes through their torsos.

  “Mags!” Rodger called out from the bottom of the hole.

  The skinwalkers took off in all directions as the divers’ savior swooped down, firing a blaster and a grenade launcher.

  It wasn’t Discovery coming to their aid—it was Cricket.

  The little Hell Diver was doing what Team Raptor and the Cazadores couldn’t do. It was killing the killers.

  TWENTY-SIX

  “Vargas is going to see his whore in an hour,” Rhino said. “Mac says his advance team of Praetorian Guards is already at the rig.”

  X stared at the radio equipment in the command center, his hands shaking. The news of their good luck with Vargas did nothing to lighten the weight of the news he had just heard from Captain Mitchells.

  “King Xavier, this is our chance,” Rhino said. “Mac and Felipe are in the port, waiting for us in a boat.”

  “Better come inside,” Sloan said.

  “What’s going on?” Rhino asked.

  She shut the door behind him. “We just got a message from Discovery,” she said.

  “Shit. It’s bad, isn’t it?”

  X got up from the chair facing the bank of radio equipment. He looked down at Miles, who looked back at him with eyes clouded by cataracts. The dog’s tail thumped against the floor, anticipating a belly rub or perhaps a treat. He had no idea what had happened, but his tail went still.

  “It’s okay, buddy,” X said. He gave the dog a piece of fish jerky and leaned down to look at the maps of Rio de Janeiro, the Iron Reef outpost in Belize, and Outrider, the colony the Cazadores had abandoned thirty years ago—the place where Horn had apparently spent the past few years preparing to retake his throne.

  “King Xavier, what’s happened?” Rhino asked, his voice tense with worry.

  “The mission has failed,” X said. “We’ve lost half the divers.”

  “Sofia,” Rhino said, stepping closer.

  X could see the dre
ad in his general’s face. “She’s still alive,” he said.

  “Thank the Octopus Gods.”

  “Don’t thank them yet,” Sloan said.

  “The Cazadores are dead,” X said. “All of them, as far as we know. Killed by Horn and his skinwalkers.”

  “Horn?” Rhino took a shaky breath and let it out. “The skinwalkers are there?”

  X nodded. “Captain Mitchells saw them on the drone footage.”

  “General Santiago …”

  “Dead.”

  Something seemed to shift in Rhino. “Then there is no time to waste,” he said. “We must strike Vargas today.”

  “Hold up, big guy,” Sloan said. “I want to know how Horn knew about our mission.”

  X looked to the radio equipment. “He must have been listening to our transmissions. First to the fuel outpost, then to the bunker.”

  “But they were encrypted,” Sloan said.

  X slapped himself on the forehead. “Yes, but the response from the bunker wasn’t. And to have known about the fuel outpost, he must be tapped into the Cazador channels.”

  “Horn and his demon men,” Rhino said. “Traitorous filth.”

  “Could they be working with the Black Order?” X asked.

  Rhino pulled on his nose ring. “Possibly, but—”

  “I doubt Vargas or anyone else in the Black Order has cracked our encrypted channel with Discovery,” said Sloan, “but if they have, they’ll know soon what happened. You were both right. We must act now.”

  X walked over to the locker and took off his white T-shirt, trading it for a brown robe that went over his shorts. Then he grabbed his duty belt of weapons and finally his sword.

  Sloan said, “If Colonel Vargas and his pals don’t know yet what’s happened out there, they will when the airship returns without any Cazadores aboard.”

  “There isn’t a single Cazador survivor?” Rhino asked.

  “No, but that could actually help us after we kill Vargas,” X said. “I’ll have video footage to prove to the Black Order that the skinwalkers, not us, killed General Santiago.”

  X finished securing his gear and weapons.

  “Maybe you should let us handle this, King Xavier,” Rhino said.

  “Big guy’s right,” Sloan said. “You shouldn’t be seen.”

  X flipped the hood over his freshly buzzed head. “I won’t be seen,” he said. “Just look after Miles while I’m gone, Lieutenant. Okay?”

  She muttered a curse. “You’re never going to listen to me, are you?”

  X grinned. “Probably not.” He pointed at the radio. “If Captain Mitchells sends another transmission, be careful what you say, just in case our enemies are listening.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  X patted Miles on the head. “I’ll be back soon, buddy.”

  Rhino opened the door, and they stepped out into the sunshine. A short walk brought them into a stairwell they took down to the boat port. A fishing boat waited in the shadows near the back of the moorings, past the fancy boats.

  Mac sat behind the wheel. In the seat beside him, Felipe honed a blade. Both men wore hooded anoraks with long sleeves. Rhino put his on as soon as he got in the boat.

  “Isaiah moored the Angry Tuna there this morning,” Mac said. “He’s already in position.”

  X took a seat between Rhino and Felipe as Mac fired up the engine. He was surrounded by Cazador warriors heading out to kill more Cazador warriors. It seemed crazy that keeping humanity alive required so much killing.

  There was a reason the world had ended, and this was it, X thought to himself. The machines may have helped speed up the process, but basic human greed had all but doomed his species. He had never understood this simple truth before now.

  X gripped the sword that Katrina had used in battle against the Cazadores. She had given her life to save their people, and Michael and Les were out there doing what they had to do. Now it was his turn. If it meant slicing open Vargas’s throat, so be it. He probably should have done that on day one.

  The boat sped away from the capitol rig in warm sunlight. X kept his hood pulled up to hide his face from curious eyes. He didn’t look over his shoulder, afraid that if he did, he would change his mind about this crazy scheme.

  “Listen up,” Mac said. “This plan is simple, but we all have a role.”

  Felipe tilted his head, and Rhino translated.

  “Once we get to the rig, we enter through a ladder on the eastern side,” Mac said. “From there, we go through the inside of the rig, avoiding all the open trading areas.”

  The boat hit a wave at an angle and slewed a little sideways. Mac straightened out and backed the throttle off a notch. “The brothel Vargas visits is just off an open area, and there are two floors above it that give a clear view of the front entrance.”

  “That’s where Isaiah is going to be?” Rhino asked.

  “Yes. He’ll take out the front guards with his bow while we enter through the back. There will be at least two more guards there, maybe three, that we have to kill before we get to Vargas, who should be busy when we arrive.”

  “You’re sure he isn’t a thirty-second kind of guy?” X asked. “He always seemed like one. I ask because that gives us a very small window.”

  Mac laughed. “The shop owner is a friend of mine. She said Vargas typically goes for the full treatment, including a long massage.”

  “And the girl?” X asked. “Is she in on this?”

  “No, but I’ll make sure she gets a really good tip and doesn’t say a word.”

  X didn’t like that she would see their faces, but that was the least of his worries right now. The Praetorian Guards were all skilled in close-quarters fighting. They had to surprise these guys and kill them fast. Sure, he could go in blasting with his new weapon slung over his robe, but there were too many civilians in the area for a shoot-out. This would require precision and sharp swords.

  “We do this clean,” X said. “Clean and fast.”

  Rhino explained the rest of the plan to Felipe. The young man grinned and went back to honing an already razor-edged small knife with a curving blade. An identical blade was sheathed on his belt.

  “Heads up,” Mac said. “Almost there.”

  The trading-post rig appeared small on the horizon, but even at this reduced speed they would be there in minutes. X used the time to rehearse everything in his mind.

  He prayed that Michael, Magnolia, Rodger, and Sofia made it back to the airship safely, but the horrific losses filled him with a deep dread. Looking out at the horizon, he also wondered where Ada was.

  X would never admit this to Rhino, but when he went to visit her, he had actually gone there to kill her. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, so instead, he had helped her escape.

  “Come back in five years,” he had said, “and I will welcome you back to the islands.”

  It was half the time he had spent alone on the surface, and if she survived as he had, then he would forgive her for her sins.

  The map he had given Ada was to the place in Florida where he had lived several years. If she could get there, she would have access to the resources that had kept him alive until the sky people landed and rescued him.

  But he doubted she would make it that far. In a way, X had effectively killed her by sending her out there.

  “Here we go,” Mac said. Felipe hopped up on the bow and eased the craft into a mooring between two tethered boats.

  Notes from a guitar and several wind instruments drifted away from the trading post. The tone was calming, beautiful even.

  This was it. Time to fight again. And as always, he would rise to the occasion, ready to fight for humanity even if it meant losing more of his own.

  * * * * *

  The vines had burrowed deep inside the earth, forming tunnels
wide enough for a person to navigate. Michael and Sofia had scrambled into one of them but now had to crawl as it narrowed.

  After an hour, they finally came to a chamber that let them get off their bellies. Michael managed to get into a crouch, and Sofia came up on her armored kneepads.

  “We’re lost,” she said.

  “I know that.”

  Sofia twisted and stretched her torso. “Now that we can turn around, maybe we should get back topside,” she said. “Edgar and Arlo are gone. You have to accept that, Commander.”

  “I have, but I haven’t given up on finding the people who took them.”

  “Why? What’s the point? Are you going to kill them? Kill the people we came to save?”

  Michael wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He just knew he wanted to find the survivors, even if they turned out to be Edgar and Arlo’s killers.

  He looked at his wrist computer, checking to make sure Rodger and Magnolia were still alive. Both their beacons came online. They appeared close. In fact, they seemed to be somewhere right above him and Sofia.

  “How is that possible?” Michael whispered. He considered using the comm channel, but he didn’t know who might be out there listening.

  Sofia wiped grime and sap off her visor and said, “Commander, my battery’s at forty percent and I’m almost out of water. I could use something to eat, too.”

  Michael checked the data on his subscreen. The radiation and air toxicity were surprisingly much lower underground than above and kept getting better the deeper they descended.

  He pulled a sealed energy bar from his vest pocket. “You should be okay to open your visor for a minute or two,” he said. “Go ahead. I’m going to eat something, too.”

  Over their chewing, they began to hear the faint sound of voices echoing in the passage.

  “Do you hear that?” Sofia said.

  Michael nodded and shut off his helmet light. She did the same. Darkness swallowed the divers, but it wasn’t the pitch black that scared him—it was the voices.

  “Can you make out what they’re saying?” Michael asked.

  “Sounds like Spanish, but I can’t make it out.”