Rockets streaked away from the tubes, slamming into the cannons below. Explosions billowed up into the sky from each impact, some making huge, loud fireballs as the artillery shells also detonated.
Les turned back to Michael, who had helped Arlo to his feet. Civilians were still scattering, but the defectors were gunning them down. One of the tanks released a flurry of rounds into several men who had picked up laser rifles. They vanished in bursts of pink mist and gore.
Raising his rifle, Les aimed at the central unit and fired a stream of bolts into its core. Several bolts broke through the armor casing. The tank went haywire, jerking back and forth, legs stomping the ground, then crashed in a cloud of dust.
Michael and Arlo looked in his direction.
“Get everyone out of here!” Les yelled. “Outside the walls!”
Michael stared for a stolen moment, then took off as Discovery raked the defector ranks with twenty-millimeter rounds.
Les took off for the tower as more drones ascended from an open roof to the east to fire bolts at Discovery. Several stitched across the hull.
Timothy kept the airship steady and turned the bottom-mounted twenty-millimeter cannons on another group of defectors, turning them into scrap metal.
Another group of brave prisoners stormed the destroyed units and picked up their dropped laser rifles. The second tank swiveled its turret toward Discovery as the airship blasted back into the sky. The tank fired a volley of bolts, several blowing into the stern and knocking out a bank of the thrusters. The group of prisoners turned their newfound weapons on the tank.
Les kept running, watching as a swarm of drones climbed into the clouds after the purple exhaust trail from the thrusters. Several of the machines peeled away a moment later, changing direction.
An explosion boomed in the distant cliffs.
Les paused, realizing that it was Edgar and Lena’s location. The gunfire from Edgar’s sniper rifle ceased, and so did Lena’s laser bolts.
“No, God, no,” Les mumbled.
It was just him, Sofia, and Michael now, with Arlo too injured to fight.
Concussions rang out in the clouds as the drones caught up to the airship.
Les was almost to the tower.
Bright flashes lit the skyline above the mountain as the drones and Discovery fired. He took cover in the trees surrounding the tower, the canopy blocking his view of the battle.
Walking around the base of the structure, he searched for a door while the heavens rumbled and the shouts and screams of prisoners filled the night.
Les found the tower’s entrance on the north side. He approached with his laser rifle. Like the factory door, it had no handle or keypad.
He fired multiple bolts until it clicked open, revealing a room of computers, all of them flashing and beeping.
Their noise blocked out the sounds of the battle raging outside.
Les had just stepped inside when a deep, burning sensation ripped his gut. He tried to move, but his legs wouldn’t respond.
Then he saw the red-hot blade sticking out of the armor below his battery unit. The blade retracted, and Les fell on his side.
A defector strode toward him out of the trees. One of the blades attached to its arms glowed red. He had never even heard the machine following him.
The second blade began to glow.
Les brought up the laser rifle hidden under his body, and pulled the trigger before it could stab him again. The bolts erased the visor and a chunk of metal skull.
The machine clattered to the floor beside him, giving him a view inside the skull: a small microchip suspended from wires in some sort of thick fluid.
With one hand pressed against his gut, Les stumbled into the room. He set his rifle down and reached into his vest pocket for the USB stick. Bolts streaked down the road outside, and the aerial battle continued, rattling the tower walls.
Les resisted the urge to look down at his wound. He knew that it was something he probably wouldn’t survive, and checking it wasn’t going to help. Keeping his hand over the wound, he scooted all the way to a wall of computers.
Lights blinked up and down the bulkheads, right up to the ceiling ten stories above. Each time they flashed, he had a feeling they were sending out the same signal to machines across the planet.
He pushed himself up, cried out in pain, and nearly fell back down.
“Captain,” a voice hissed in his earpiece.
Les blinked, trying to steady himself.
“Captain, we’re almost out of ammo and have sustained severe damage,” Timothy said. “I’m not sure how much longer I can keep us in the air.”
“I just need . . . a few . . .” Les slumped against the computers, his vision going dark. It came back a moment later, but his body felt weightless, as in the first seconds of a dive.
He pulled off the end of the thumb drive and searched for a place to upload it. “I’m almost there,” he said. “Just . . .”
More explosions rang outside—from ground or air, he couldn’t say. They sounded faint, or maybe that was just his hearing. His body was failing.
Les inserted the drive into a slot in a computer and then connected his wrist computer, using cables from another pocket in his vest. He tapped the screen, starting the upload.
At first, nothing happened. The percentage showed zero on his wrist computer.
He slumped down the wall of computers with a view of the open door. The fighting was distant now, and he heard only one voice, crackling in his helmet.
“Everyone’s outside the base,” Michael said. “I’m coming back in.”
“No,” Les choked. He saw the upload starting on his computer. It jumped to 10 percent, then 15. That gave him a shot of confidence.
“Get as far away from the base as you can, just in case this doesn’t work,” Les said.
“But, sir . . .”
Les spoke as firmly as he could. “That’s an order, Commander.”
“No way. I’m coming back.”
“Michael, if you do, you will never see Layla again or hold your son,” Les said. “Now, go. I’m finishing this myself!”
“But, Captain . . .”
“Take care of Phyl and Katherine.”
A pause.
“Sir, you can take care of them when we get out of here.”
“I’m sorry, Michael, but it’s over for me . . .” Les groaned in pain. “I’m hurt bad and not leaving this place. I’m counting on you. I love you like a son, and that’s why I can’t lose you like I lost Trey.”
Les shut off the channel before Michael could reply. He straightened his body against the wall.
“Timothy,” he said into his headset. “Do you copy, Timothy?”
“Copy, sir.”
Beyond the trees, the street was still. No machines in sight, nor any human prisoners. Tall weeds swayed gently in the breeze. It was almost peaceful.
He looked at his monitor: 95 percent.
A moment later, the virus was uploaded, and the inside of the tower glowed again, sending out the signal worldwide.
But it wasn’t over yet.
“Timothy, you have to destroy the main tower,” Les said.
“I’m out of rockets, sir,” Timothy replied.
Les closed his eyes.
Another voice came online.
Les disconnected his wrist computer and squirmed all the way to the door, where he had a view of the skyline above the canopy.
“We’ll use the airship,” Samson said. “Slam it right into the side.”
Les wanted to say no, but he knew that the airship was done for. This would ensure that the mainframe could never be brought back online.
“It’s been an honor serving with you, Captain,” Timothy replied.
“The honor has been mine, Timothy. Thank you for
everything you’ve done for us. And you as well, Samson.”
“You’re a good man, Les,” Samson said. “Leave this to us now.”
“Hit the tower at the lowest point possible,” Les choked.
Les didn’t mention that he was right underneath it. He was already dead anyway.
“Roger that,” Samson said. “I always wanted to say this: we dive so humanity survives!”
With what strength he had left, Les crawled out into the dirt, past the weeds. He managed to sit up against a tree trunk. A perfect view of the skyline.
A glowing outline moved through the clouds above the walls. Discovery shot through the barrier a moment later. Fire spewed from the hull as the airship hurtled toward the tower. An armored panel cartwheeled away to expose a translucent figure standing at the helm.
“Well done, Timothy,” Les croaked. “It’s been a hell of a ride.”
He closed his eyes, ready to join his son. The mission to avenge Trey and save his family was complete at last.
FORTY-TWO
Raven’s Claw carved through the sea on a course for the Vanguard Islands. A day had passed since they left Aruba, but to Magnolia it felt like a lifetime.
She stood in the command tower, looking out over the deck below. Most of the fighting had taken place here after General Forge boarded with a team of his fiercest warriors. They barely won the hand-to-hand battle against the skinwalkers, leaving a deck slick with blood. No one had walked away from the fight without an injury, and most of the survivors were in the medical ward three decks below.
General Forge, Magnolia, Imulah, and X and Miles were in the command center. The king sat in a chair, stroking Miles, while the general stared out over the water, his arm in a sling.
No one had said much since they left Aruba and heard a single radio message from a militia soldier. It played endlessly in Magnolia’s head.
The machines are almost to the capitol tower! We can’t hold them back!
Raven’s Claw had lost contact shortly thereafter, and they were sailing home at full speed. Magnolia knew that the chances of anything being left by the time they arrived weren’t good. It was a two-day sail in the best conditions, and it wouldn’t take the machines long at all to kill everything that breathed.
“Try the radio again,” X said.
Magnolia turned the dials, but only static crackled back. It was possible the electrical storms were interfering with the comms, but it was more likely that no one was left to answer the radio.
X let out a long sigh and went back to stroking Miles.
“We must not give up hope,” Imulah said. “Lieutenant Wynn was ready for them, and we have the Octopus Lords on our side.”
Magnolia snorted.
The general turned from the window, his chiseled jaw covered by a bandage that moved while he spoke to Imulah. He was ready to fight, and so were his men, but Magnolia knew they couldn’t do much with what they had left.
“General Forge says we crushed Horn and Moreto, and we will do the same to the metal gods,” Imulah said.
“ ‘Crushed’ isn’t exactly . . .” A glare from X stopped Magnolia from finishing the thought.
She backed away from the three men and Miles. “I’ll go check on Rodger,” she said.
X nodded, and she went to the lower decks, which smelled of body odor, mold, and a putrid scent that she couldn’t and didn’t want to place. The skinwalkers, cannibalistic barbarians that they were, had lived in filth. And while she was glad they had salvaged the warship, restoring it to habitable conditions was going to take a lot of work.
Magnolia ducked under a bulkhead and into a passage with standing water. She took a detour to the shit cans. They were even worse than those on the Hive.
The draft in here was almost unbearable. She held her nose as she relieved herself in a stall missing a door. The bulkhead-mounted mirrors across from the toilet were stained and cracked, but she could still see her reflection.
Both eyes were swollen, her lower lip was cracked, and she had lost a tooth. If not for the fresh bandage on her head, she would look like a monster. Even now she looked awful. But she was alive.
She rinsed off her hands and went to the medical ward. Rodger was sitting up in his bunk.
“Mags,” he said, forcing a crooked grin.
She walked over, and his face returned to its perpetual frown.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Really tired, but I’ll live. How about you?”
Magnolia shrugged as she walked into the space crowded with injured soldiers. Ton and Victor were in adjacent beds, and beside Ton was the English-speaking Barracuda warrior Willis. Everyone was being treated for radiation poisoning, including Magnolia, who had been exposed to low doses with her helmet off.
She smiled at Ton and Victor and sat by Rodger’s side. His feet and legs were covered with a blanket, and she was careful not to sit on them.
“We still haven’t been able to raise the Vanguard Islands since the first message,” she said.
He looked down, then back to her. “I have faith in Tin, Les, Timothy, and Samson,” Rodger said. “If anyone can stop the machines, it’s them.”
Magnolia wished she had that same faith, but she feared that their mission had failed. Even if they had succeeded, it may well be too late for the Vanguard Islands.
Something in her gnawed like a parasite feasting on her guts. She had this horrible feeling her friends were all dead, not only at Kilimanjaro but at the islands.
Darkness swarmed her mind. All she wanted to do was curl up with Rodger and sleep. But if the Hell Divers had failed, there was another fight ahead.
Would it even be worth fighting if everyone was dead?
“I better get back topside and start helping with the weapons,” she said. “The skeleton crew needs help.”
“Wait.”
Rodger reached out and took her hand.
“We’re going to be okay,” he said. Then he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “I love you, Mags.”
“So you can be romantic,” she said. “I love you, too. See you in a bit.”
She walked over to Victor and Ton before leaving. “How are you two feeling?”
Victor blinked at her, still sedated. He mumbled something to Ton, who gave a thumbs-up.
“Thank you for everything you did for the king,” she said.
Victor pounded his chest with his fist.
She continued, past Willis. He swung his legs over the bed and pulled an IV line out of his arm, then stood up with a pained grunt.
“Screw sitting here and shitting in a bucket,” he said. “You need help with those guns?”
“I’d love some.”
He followed her back to the upper decks, stopping to change into a suit before going outside. Magnolia changed into one, too, and stepped up to a porthole.
Lightning flashed across the horizon, illuminating the deck. Several Cazador soldiers worked on the twenty-millimeter cannons and several smaller machine guns mounted on the gunwales.
Most of the rockets had been expended, but the skinwalkers had several other weapons systems. She spotted the spearguns that they used to hunt Sirens.
Can’t use one of those on a machine.
There were two Mark 45 lightweight guns, but neither worked. If they could get them up and running, they might have a fighting chance to inflict major damage, as they had back at Red Sphere.
“We have to get those back in service,” she said, pointing to one of the cannons.
Willis nodded. “I’ll get a team on it.”
She spent the next hour working with him and a handful of Cazadores, including some mechanics who had managed to escape from Shadow and Renegade. The team finished with a final count on weapons and ammo.
There wasn’t much even if they could
get one of the Mark 45 lightweight guns working, which the mechanics weren’t sure about. All tallied up, it was hardly enough to fight more than a few machines.
She thanked Willis and walked off the bloody deck. A ladder took her to a hatch that opened to another empty passage. Brooding, she walked to the command center.
Halfway down the next passage, a voice stopped her.
“There you are,” Rodger said.
“Rodge, what in the hell are you doing out of bed!”
She turned around to see that he wasn’t alone. Ton was there with Victor, and so was Imulah. The fact that they all had gotten out of their beds despite severe injuries told her something dire was happening.
“Come quickly,” Imulah said. “We made contact with the Vanguard Islands.”
Magnolia went over to help the injured men to the command center. As they approached, the crackle of static echoed off the overhead and bulkheads.
X was standing with Forge at the comms station.
“What’s going . . .” Magnolia started to say.
X turned with a finger to his lips.
She helped Rodger over, and Ton limped with Victor and Imulah.
“Destroyed . . . Trading post . . . Gone . . .”
The female voice kept breaking up, but she caught the gist of it. The machines had all but destroyed the Vanguard Islands.
Lightning forked through the sky, creating a resounding crackle over the comms.
The view was one Magnolia had seen all her life. She had always thought this view was all that existed on the surface: storms, wastes, and memories of a world destroyed.
But through it all, they had finally found a home, only to have it wiped out by the machines. She dreaded the thought of returning to a destroyed paradise.
“Machines are . . .” said the voice.
The message finally cleared.
“This is X,” he said. “Who am I talking to, and what the hell is happening?”
White noise filled the room, but it passed and a familiar voice surged over the channel.
“This is Ada Winslow, sir,” came the reply. “The machines attacked and sank Elysium . . .”
The radio cut out again.
Warriors Page 49