Warriors

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  She had managed to get her helmet off before she died, exposing her swollen neck. The stings from the barbed plants had killed her before the Siren could.

  Or so X hoped.

  Either way, she had suffered horribly. And it was his fault.

  She wasn’t ready to come to the wastes. She had never dived or spent time outside the airships. Sending her here with gear but no skills was much worse than a simple sword thrust.

  Rhino had been right. X should have just killed her in her cell.

  The Siren suddenly twisted with a rope of viscera hanging from its open maw. The eyeless face tilted slightly and sniffed the air.

  Jagged teeth snapped, and the creature let out a high-pitched wail that seemed to go on and on, like a never-ending air-raid siren.

  X wasn’t sure when he woke. A bright moon cast a glow inside his quarters. Dr. Huff, Samson, Sloan, and Wynn were gone, but Miles remained camped out at his feet.

  The dog nudged him, licking the salty sweat off his arm.

  “It’s okay, boy,” X mumbled.

  A rattling sound came from the corner of the room, where Sloan sat sleeping in a chair.

  X drew in a breath and raised his hand to his forehead. Sweat dripped down, but he didn’t feel as hot, and he could move and actually think in a straight line. His mind reverted to the Ada nightmare.

  Miles nudged his arm again. X was lucid enough to know now that the nightmare was just that, but chances were, Ada had already died from some other threat.

  X lay back on the pillow and took a deep breath of fresh air. A pressure had settled in his skull, and his right arm felt numb. While his fever seemed to be going down, he wasn’t out of danger yet.

  * * * * *

  Discovery shuddered and groaned like a dying beast.

  Les stood at the helm, arms folded over his chest, watching the storm clouds on the wall-mounted main screen, trying to process everything Lieutenant Sloan had told him on an encrypted line.

  Over the past few days, X had taken a turn for the worse and was slipping in and out of consciousness. The fight with Vargas had left him broken and bedridden, and now an infection threatened his life.

  Les had decided to keep the information from everyone on the ship. They had spent the night flying with one bank of thrusters and were minutes away from the Vanguard Islands. Once they arrived, he could assess how bad the situation really was, and then the others could know.

  “Sir, I’m detecting a storm front ahead,” Timothy said.

  The AI snapped Les back to reality. He looked over to the empty chair where Eevi normally sat. Timothy stood in her place while the grieving widow slept.

  “Keep us clear of it,” Les ordered.

  The AI nodded. “Taking us down to five thousand feet.”

  Les sat down in his chair and closed his eyes for a few minutes of rest. He was generally happy with everything they had accomplished, although it had come at a great cost.

  Losing Banks and two militia soldiers in the onslaught of bats had added to the deadly mission’s toll. Only one militia soldier was returning, and only two Cazador soldiers from General Santiago’s platoon. They had also lost a Hell Diver.

  But the sacrifices had allowed thirty new souls a chance to see something they had never seen before: the sun. That in itself was a victory.

  Les had also spoken with Lieutenant Sloan about providing security and a quarantine shelter for the newcomers once they landed.

  He hoped the immune system boosters would protect them from whatever new pathogens they encountered.

  Footsteps sounded on the bridge, and Les opened his eyes to see Michael and Magnolia cross the bridge, side by side.

  “Everything’s ready, Captain,” Michael said. “As soon as we put down, Samson and his people will start repairs on the other thrusters and turbofans.”

  “Good,” Les replied. “I want to be back in the sky as soon as possible.”

  Michael and Magnolia exchanged a glance.

  “Sir, back in the sky for what exactly?” Magnolia said.

  “That’s classified for now.”

  He had kept his plan to himself, just as he was keeping King Xavier’s condition under tight wraps. They may be returning to a situation that could spiral out of control, and he didn’t want any leaks.

  “Classified?” Michael asked.

  “Sounds like something Captain Jordan would say,” Magnolia muttered.

  Les shot her a glare. “You’re out of line, Katib.”

  “Agreed,” Michael said. “I’m sure Captain Mitchells has his reasons.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Magnolia said. “I’m just used to more transparency from you.”

  Les didn’t respond to the insincere attempt at an apology.

  She brushed her red locks back behind her ear. “If something’s going on back home, we should know, so we can prepare.”

  Les could feel Timothy looking at him now. The AI was the only one who knew what Les did about the defectors. He had translated the conversation with their new passenger, Pedro, before they set down to repair the thrusters.

  Captains had kept secrets in the past, and now he knew why. This one had the potential to change the future of the human race, and he wanted to discuss it with X before telling anyone else.

  Assuming that X could talk at all.

  The hatch on the bridge opened, and Layla walked in.

  “Everything okay?” Michael asked.

  “Eevi’s a wreck,” she said.

  Les drew in a deep breath and sighed it out. The pain and suffering in their world never seemed to stop. But it touched them all, and together they would get through whatever awaited them at home and whatever the future held.

  Layla took a seat at a station, and Michael said to Les, “Sir, is there anything you can tell us?”

  Les put a hand on Michael’s shoulder.

  “It’s X, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Commander,” Les said. “I spoke with Lieutenant Sloan a few times over an encrypted line, and his injuries have resulted in an infection. We’ve been careful about what to share on the radio and on the ship, because if he dies . . .”

  “Dies? What the hell are you talking about? I just talked to him a few days ago, and he seemed—”

  “Things have changed since then,” Les said. “I’m sorry, Commander. I don’t know much, but he’s in bad shape.”

  Magnolia choked up.

  “There’s something else. Two soldiers from the Lion escaped on a rowboat before Ada dropped the container into the ocean.”

  “What?” Magnolia gasped.

  “Do they know what she did?” Michael asked.

  “I don’t know,” Les replied. “I can only guess this is why X and Rhino struck Vargas before he had a chance to rally the Cazador army and mount a coup.”

  “With the death of General Santiago, there are only two Cazador officers left in the army now,” Michael said, “and neither of them seemed to like X. Forge and . . .”

  “Bird lady,” Magnolia snorted. “A.k.a. bitch on wheels.”

  “We have to be very careful when we land,” Les said. “I need you both to stay vigilant.”

  Both Hell Divers nodded.

  “You can count on that, Captain,” Michael said.

  “If, by ‘vigilant,’ you mean offing bird lady, I’m totally down for that,” Magnolia said.

  Les frowned. “I mean the polar opposite. We’re trying to avoid a war, not ignite one.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Magnolia said.

  A blinking light appeared below.

  “Captain, we’re closing in on the Vanguard Islands,” Timothy said. “Should have a visual shortly.”

  Les motioned for them to join him in front of the hatches.

  “Open them and take us down to se
a level, Timothy,” Les commanded.

  The hatches clanked downward, revealing the storm outside. Explosions of lightning burst through the bulging clouds, and rain pattered the windows.

  Les clasped his hands behind his back as Discovery’s bow dipped. A warning played over the public address system, in English, then Spanish, then Portuguese.

  He imagined what the new passengers must be feeling: fear, certainly, and anticipation of a world filled with sunshine and sweet air. It would be a drastic change for them, just as it had been for his people.

  “We’ve reached five thousand feet,” Timothy reported.

  The airship carved through the swirling blue-gray. As it descended, the storm clouds lightened until they became translucent.

  “Three thousand feet,” Timothy said. “Prepare for visual.”

  The bow exploded through the cloud cover surrounding the Vanguard Islands, and blinding light filled the bridge. The crew squinted into the golden glow.

  “Timothy, activate the tint,” Les said.

  “Done, sir.”

  The sun shield, something they rarely had to use, activated on the windows, dimming the glare. As his eyes adjusted, Les beheld the Vanguard Islands with a faint smile.

  The hatch opened again, and Eevi hurried to her station and sat down without a word.

  Les turned back to the view.

  The oil rigs rose in the distance, and several large boats cut white wakes through the water—fishing trawlers bringing home the catch.

  “Timothy, open a line to Command,” Les ordered.

  “One moment, sir.”

  A buzzing sounded, followed by static.

  “Vanguard One, this is Captain Mitchells of Discovery, do you copy?”

  “Copy, Captain, this is Sergeant Wynn,” came the reply. “It’s damn good to hear your voice. Welcome home.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” Les replied.

  “The landing zone on the capitol tower is prepped and ready, sir.”

  “Copy that. Prepare for our arrival.”

  Les moved over to the controls and had Timothy take them off auto­pilot. He switched off the bank of thrusters and switched all auxiliary power to the remaining turbofans.

  “Look at that,” Michael said. “Is that Renegade?”

  “Looks like it,” Magnolia said.

  “So they finally got it back up and running, then.”

  “Kind of,” Magnolia said.

  Les watched the warship sailing away from one of the rigs. A plume of smoke rose into the blue sky. The airship swung away toward the capitol tower.

  Another warship was down there, larger than the first. This one didn’t appear to be moving.

  “That’s Elysium,” Michael said.

  Hundreds of warriors stood on the deck, holding weapons. They all turned to watch the airship sail overhead.

  “That’ll show ’em,” Les said.

  Michael arched a brow. “You planned to fly over?”

  “To show the Cazadores we’re back,” Les said.

  “Sounds like something Magnolia would do,” Timothy said.

  Les hadn’t seen the third Cazador warship, Shadow, during the flyover. Perhaps they had deployed it already to watch for defectors and Horn’s skinwalkers.

  The hull groaned, and the deck shivered as Les turned Discovery sharply.

  “There she is,” Magnolia said.

  Seeing the metal fortress in the sunshine brought a smile to the faces of everyone on the bridge except Eevi. For her, this wasn’t a happy homecoming.

  Les knew something of the pain she felt. He had left his son in the wastes, his body destroyed like Alexander’s. He wanted to say something comforting to Eevi but didn’t want to sound like all the people who had tried to offer him condolences and support.

  The only thing that would make him feel better was destroying the defectors and eliminating the threats to the Vanguard Islands. As soon as Discovery set down, Les was going to see his family. Then he would start planning to do just that.

  SEVEN

  Ada moved through the collapsed passageway in a crouch, ducking the overhangs and rusted metal reaching out like broken skeletal fingers. The beam from her helmet light cut through the inky black, pushing away shadows that seemed to retreat from it in fear.

  Hours ago, she had hidden herself from whatever creature lurked in the black abyss. It had taken a lot of second-guessing before she finally emerged from the quarters to return to her boat.

  On the way back to the deck, the screeching had come again. It sounded as though the beast had moved to the weather deck.

  She had been forced to return to the passages and take refuge in a berthing area, hiding beneath a crooked bunk with a tarp over her.

  After leaving the hiding spot, she was working her way through a tangled mess of pipes and fallen overheads.

  Rifle in hand, she was prepared to kill whatever was out there, before it killed her.

  Ropes of vines blocked her way around the next bulkhead. Slinging her rifle and unsheathing her machete, she stopped to listen for anything other than the dripping of water.

  When she got back to her boat, she would sharpen the blade with a file. It was already getting dull from all the hacking, sticking several times in the meaty vegetation. Now she could see that it wasn’t just the dulling blade causing her issues.

  This flora was still alive. Purple sap wept out of the severed stems on the deck.

  She retreated a few steps and bent down to examine the first mutant life she ever encountered in the wastes. Although the outer skin of the vines was a dead-looking dull brown, the inside was ripe purple and very much alive.

  Ada stood and carefully maneuvered around the dying stems. She stepped over one that wriggled like a giant earthworm.

  The movement made her jump, and she backed away, not daring to take her eye off the limbs lest they shoot out to grab her in revenge.

  But her fear resulted in a costly mistake. Backing up, she bumped into a bulkhead. Her pounding heart thumped faster at the sound of tearing fabric.

  Terrified of what she might see, Ada looked down. A broken pipe protruded from the bulkhead to her left. Its jagged end had snagged her pant leg.

  Ada acted fast, placing her rifle against the bulkhead and sheathing the machete. Shucking off her backpack, she fished inside for tape to seal off the tear.

  She took a close look now, and her sigh of relief fogged the inside of her visor. The metal hadn’t cut her leg, so she needn’t worry about infection.

  After sealing off the tear, she slowed her breath and heart rate. The accident had taught her something important: always watch where you’re going.

  Noted.

  She pushed onward, down a passage of more open hatches, to a space set with industrial metal tables—the sailors’ mess hall.

  Several plates and cups littered the deck, but she wasn’t interested in those. Something in the kitchen might be useful, though.

  She set off across the room, careful not to make any noise. The beam raked back and forth, capturing a bulkhead covered in vines that had grown down through the overhead.

  The kitchen door was gone, and rusted pans and utensils were scattered over the counters and deck.

  She wasn’t expecting to find any food, but she did find a knife on one of the counters. Picking it up, she saw that the blade was mostly rust.

  Ada left through the back hatch, which opened to a passageway. A supply closet, long since raided, didn’t look promising. There wasn’t much she could do with a broom, but the three nested plastic buckets could be useful.

  The problem would be carrying them back to her boat without banging anything. Something was still out there, and if she couldn’t avoid it, she wouldn’t mind having a cleaver or butcher knife. For now, the machete and rifle were all she
had.

  She set back out into the passage, searching several quarters. In one, she halted in the open hatch.

  The space was furnished with two desks covered in decayed books and folders. Only one book remained on a shelf. She bent to pick it up when she saw something on the floor.

  Ada reeled back. The skeletal remains were tucked under the desk, head down, legs pulled up to the rib cage.

  Her beam captured a pair of eyeglasses and the remains of a torn jacket and pants still covering the bones.

  A plastic name tag hung loosely from the frayed jacket. Dr. James . . .

  She couldn’t read the rest, but from what she could tell, this man had been some sort of scientist. Perhaps one of the people who had used the telescope above decks.

  Ada stood and checked the book on the shelf. The cover was worn, but she could make out the first word. Biomedical.

  She flipped it open, and decayed pages sloughed away in pieces. This ship had been used for more than looking at the stars.

  She felt the tingle of fascination and mystery, but she had to find a way back to her boat.

  She went back out to the passage. Another ladder led to a lower deck—from what she could tell, the lowest on the ship. No vegetation blocked the way.

  She shined her light down the ladder. The stairs and the next landing were both clear, but her heart pounded at the idea of going down there.

  She had come this far and had avoided whatever beast dwelled on the vessel, but she hadn’t found anything useful to her journey.

  What would X do?

  If X were here, he would already have killed the monster and had it barbecuing on a grill while he took a snooze with his boots propped up on a chair.

  That all sounded great, but she wasn’t X. She had never killed anything.

  That wasn’t exactly true. She had killed plenty of Cazadores.

  But that had been much different. She had pushed a button, not pulled a trigger or stabbed something at close range.

  You’re going to have to learn sooner rather than later.

  Ada stood and started down the stairs with the barrel of her rifle angled into the darkness. As she reached the landing, the light on her helmet flickered. Fear pierced her heart as darkness flooded the passage.