She reached up and tapped the lamp. The beam knifed into the darkness.
Ada resisted the urge to let out a long sigh of relief. Instead, she kept going, doing what X would have done. The final level was drier than the others, and the bulkheads seemed cleaner, with no moss or other vegetation growing down them.
She moved slowly down the center passage, past hatches to other quarters. One had engineering stenciled over it. The light held steady, illuminating a large space with bulky engine equipment—the old-world kind, fueled by diesel instead of a nuclear reactor.
For the first time in her search, she found something she could really use. Several coiled chains hung from the bulkhead inside a supply room. There were toolboxes, and even some ropes in a plastic crate.
She threw a coiled rope over her shoulder and searched the tools. An adjustable wrench went into her duty belt, and a screwdriver and hammer went in her pack. So did a tape measure.
The find made the exploration worth it. She returned to the engine room, satisfied and confident.
She passed the massive engines and boilers without a glance. It was time to get back to her boat with her goods and kill anything that stepped in her way.
She selected a different exit route, which eventually led to a passage infested with the same flora. The vines grew across the deck and out through open hatches. A pass with her light confirmed they were alive.
Turning too quickly was a costly error. Before she could catch it, the wrench slid out of her duty belt and bounced on the deck with a loud clang.
She flinched at the noise reverberating through the ship. She held in a breath and closed her eyes, anticipating a screech.
After an endless minute of waiting, she took a cautious step back to Engineering.
A screech froze her in midstride.
This one was louder than the others, and it seemed to come from the engine room.
Frozen, she listened.
The echo made locating the source difficult. She took a step back toward the vines, pulling out her machete. The growths writhed at her approach, stopping her again.
Her heart climbed to her throat.
Any sense of confidence vanished at the sight of the wriggling flora.
Coming down here was a mistake. She was trapped between mutant plants and a mutant monster.
Scanning with her helmet light, she searched for a place to hide. A closed hatch seemed the only option. A crooked sign hung from the bulkhead, with an image she recognized from the Hive. The biohazard symbol was the last thing she had expected to see down here.
Another wail sounded, followed by the clank of metal on metal. It sounded like steel fingers scratching the deck.
She felt the hairs on her neck rise. This wasn’t the cry of a Siren. She had heard those over the comms during her time working on the bridge of the airships.
This was a different monster.
With nowhere to run, she grabbed the handle of the biohazard hatch and twisted it as quietly as possible. The loud click made her cringe, but it opened right up.
Ada swept her light over a space full of lab stations.
The screeching grew louder. Dozens of little clattering noises came in the respite between wails.
There wasn’t just one creature out there.
She closed the hatch behind her and sealed it shut with a bar. Then she turned to see what kind of lab she had just locked herself inside.
Her beam revealed a score of large vats. She moved the light from tube to tube. Each had been shattered.
The wail came again, mixing with other screeches and cries.
Ada kept her light on the shattered vats. Whatever they had housed was gone now, and she couldn’t help drawing a connection to the creatures prowling in the darkness outside the hatch.
* * * * *
A hundred people had gathered on the capitol tower rooftop to help unload Discovery and help move the injured. Michael was happy to see them all, but he was too worried about X to celebrate just yet.
Outside the airship, Lieutenant Sloan and Sergeant Wynn oversaw a contingent of militia soldiers tasked with providing security and unloading weapons. Medical support staff had shown up to help with the wounded.
Engineers, mechanics, and technicians in their yellow and red jumpsuits set off to different locations to start work inside and outside the airship.
Michael took a breath of sweet ocean air and followed Layla and Eevi down a ramp. They both were heading back to their quarters for some downtime, and Michael was glad for that. His lover needed rest and a warm shower, and Eevi needed a break from people so she could grieve alone.
Dozens of civilians rushed and jostled for a view of the ship. Cole and Bernie Mintel were among them, searching for their son, Rodger.
But one person was conspicuously absent from the rooftop. He knew that X was in bad shape, but he had still expected the old man to show up. He wanted to go straight to X’s quarters and see him, but Captain Mitchells had ordered Michael to stay here and help.
“We don’t want to raise any alarms,” Les had said. “I’ll go see how he’s doing and sort out exactly what happened.”
Michael wouldn’t argue with his superior officer, but his anxiety grew with every passing second.
“Commander Everhart!” Ted shouted. He walked over with Lena by his side. Hector, Alberto, and several other greenhorn divers had also shown up to help.
“Why the hell are you wearing a jumpsuit?” Magnolia said.
Ted stiffened, then grinned.
“X gave me a second chance, and I’ve been training since you guys left,” he said.
“Did he hurt his brain, too?” Magnolia said. She looked at Michael.
He was too worried and mad to say anything. It wasn’t just being kept in the dark about X that had him upset. The captain had also classified new information about the defectors and a possible mission into the wastes.
Michael took a deep breath and reminded himself how lucky he was to be alive and still with Layla. In two months she would give birth to Bray, and he wanted his son to come into this world during a time of peace. For that to happen, a lot had to change.
The skinwalkers, defectors, and even the Cazador army still posed a threat to their fragile home. And with Rhino dead, they had lost their best ally.
“Yo, Tin,” Magnolia said.
Rodger stepped up. “Hey, Ted, how’s it—”
“Shut up, Rodge,” Magnolia said.
He frowned.
“Start unloading the crates,” Michael said.
Ted and the other greenhorns took off to help.
“Tin,” Magnolia called out. She followed him over to a side hatch. “Tin, wait up.”
“What?”
“Aren’t you worried about Ted joining back up after that stunt—”
“I’m worried about X,” he snapped.
Magnolia recoiled. “Me too, but come on, it’s X.”
“Nobody lives forever.”
Grabbing a crate, Michael walked past the exterior launch-bay doors, leaving Magnolia and Rodger behind.
Inside, eager faces had crowded around the cracked portholes for their first view of the outside world. He was delighted at having saved them, but there was still a lot to do to keep them alive—and, for that matter, to keep his people and the Cazadores alive.
Behind the expectant faces, Timothy’s hologram glowed inside the launch bay. The AI was working to keep the new arrivals calm and informed. Soon, they would all be given immune-system booster shots, and until they were cleared, they would remain inside the airship.
Shouting pulled Michael away from the view.
“What the hell did you do to my ship!” yelled Samson.
The husky chief engineer strode around a grove of palm trees, a handkerchief pressed to his forehead. Ove
rdramatic as ever, Samson was a welcome sight, and Michael couldn’t help feeling a glimmer of relief.
“Nothing we can’t fix,” he said. “Your new shields saved our asses from a lot of lightning strikes.”
“You’re welcome,” Samson said.
“Didn’t stop the Sirens, though,” Rodger said.
He hauled another crate away from the Sea Wolf, which was still attached to the belly of Discovery.
“Well, I didn’t design them to stop Sirens,” Samson said. “I imagine it’s quite the story how they made it on board, and also how you made it on board.”
“A story you won’t believe,” Rodger said.
Magnolia shook her head.
“Good to see you kids back home,” Samson said with a rare smile. “You did a fine job out there considering the circumstances.”
“Thank you,” Michael said. He looked around them, then said softly, “Do you know how X is?”
Samson tensed, his smile vanishing.
“Well?” Magnolia said.
“Sorry. I can’t say.” Samson looked to Rodger. “I’ll need your help soon.”
Rodger gave a haphazard salute. “At your service, sir.”
“I better go see how bad things are,” Samson said. He hurried off toward the stern, where Alfred and his mechanics and engineers had gathered under the thrusters.
Michael’s gut clenched as he walked, the worries getting the best of him again. He had a really bad feeling about X. Nothing short of being on his deathbed would keep him from coming up on the rooftop.
“Make way!” someone yelled.
Michael stacked his crate and turned to see the medical crew carry several stretchers past the growing crowd on the rooftop. The civilians watching craned their necks to see who was being carried out. Edgar lay on one stretcher, looking up at the sky. Arlo was on another. He sat up, one hand on his belly, the other waving at the crowd—the hero home from the war.
The shit-eating grin on his face seemed to ruffle Magnolia. “Cocky little bastard,” she said.
Rodger laughed. “He’s going to need some new teeth.”
“Maybe you can make him some wooden ones,” Magnolia said.
“Yeah,” Rodger said, serious for the moment. “I bet I could.”
“Hey, Silver Fox, you got that flask?” Arlo called out.
The greenhorn divers all gathered around to watch. Several of them chanted “Thunder.”
Arlo waved like a celebrity, but Michael didn’t care. They all needed something to take the edge off.
“Make way!” yelled one of the medical workers.
The crowd parted. Dr. Huff walked alongside the third stretcher, which bore the militia soldier injured by the Siren that had sneaked aboard the ship. The only militia soldier to survive, he was lucky to be alive.
The crowd clapped as the injured were trundled away.
Michael wanted to ask Dr. Huff about X, but when they made eye contact, Huff picked up his pace, clearly not interested in a conversation.
The divers went back for more supply crates.
“Has anyone seen Sofia?” Magnolia asked.
Rodger jerked his chin toward the railing. Sofia stood there, away from everyone else, looking out over the water.
“I should go check on her for a moment,” Magnolia said.
Michael nodded and set down another crate.
“You think Sofia’s going to be okay?” Rodger asked.
“Eventually,” Michael replied. “I’m honestly a bit more concerned about Eevi right now. She seems to be getting worse.”
“Not to be a selfish prick, but when everyone thought I was dead, did . . .” Rodger’s words trailed off, and he blushed.
“Don’t worry, Rodgeman, Magnolia was pretty damn upset when el Pulpo skewered you,” Michael said.
“Not to compare, or anything.”
“She sure has taken a liking to you since then. Maybe now you’ll finally have some downtime to get to know each other better.”
Rodger pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I sure hope so. I’ve got a bad case of . . .”
Magnolia waved from the railing.
“Come on,” Michael said.
Rodger followed him under the airship, through the maze of lowered turbofans that the engineers and mechanics were already assessing for damage.
Before Michael even got to the railing, he saw the smoke rising over the water. He ran the rest of the way to Magnolia and Sofia.
The Cazador warship Renegade was having engine problems. It had stalled beyond the oil rig topped by the decommissioned Hive.
Smoke billowed away from the warship, and three tugboats had latched on to help push it back to the large rig the Cazadores used for ship repairs.
“I guess Colonel Moreto isn’t going anywhere for a while,” Michael said.
“It could be a trap,” Magnolia said.
“What do you mean?”
“What if she staged the ship to look disabled, when really it’s fully operational and can take out the capitol tower? I mean, her orders are to take the ship to the other fuel outpost, right? So maybe she’s buying herself time and really plans on taking us out.”
Sofia finally looked away from the rail. “With Rhino gone and Vargas dead, I could see her and Forge planning something like that,” she said. “To finish the job that Vargas failed on.”
The pieces of the puzzle locked into place in Michael’s mind, and he finally realized what Les meant by “stay vigilant.” Their king needed defending while he recovered from his injuries.
“Screw it,” Michael said. “I’m going to see X.”
Magnolia reached out to stop him, saying, “Les ordered us not to, Tin.”
“I know what he said, but I have to know if X is okay,” Michael said. “We can’t lose him now. We need him more than ever.”
Magnolia looked back out over the water. “I have a bad feeling Colonel Moreto is hoping that’s exactly what happens,” she said. “Rodge, get the laser rifles from the armory. We might need them.”
EIGHT
X awoke on the deck of Elysium, surrounded by dozens of Cazador warriors, all clanking their sharpened teeth while tapping their spear butts on the deck in unison. Blood smeared their tattooed skin, and several had someone else’s skin draped over their own.
At first, he thought the skinwalkers were real, that Horn had finally come with his warriors to claim the throne of the Vanguard Islands. But then X saw the other onlookers.
Standing on the platform outside the command center were ghosts from his past. Hell Diver Aaron Everhart gripped the rusted railing and looked down with the same hardened gaze that X remembered from their days of diving.
Michael often had that same stoic look. He had taken after his father in other ways, too.
But the younger Everhart wasn’t here in this dream. Only dead Hell Divers joined Aaron on the platform. Will, Rodney, Sam, Pipe, and a dozen other men and women who had made the ultimate sacrifice flanked Aaron. Former diver Captain Katrina DaVita stepped onto the platform with another old soul. Captain Maria Ash glanced down at X.
Only one non-sky person stood with his old friends. Nick “Rhino” Baker had his thick arms folded over his chest. Blood wept from the gashes and holes in his body. Raising an arm with an arrow stuck through it, he pointed to another ghost, behind X.
The Cazador warriors had parted to make way for el Pulpo. The dead king wasn’t alone, but the muscular younger man walking by his side wasn’t translucent. A horn crested a scratched metal helmet, and bloody strips of skin hung like tentacles from his head.
Horn, the bastard son of el Pulpo and heir to the throne, twirled two axes through the air, the blades flinging drops of blood.
The leader of the skinwalkers had indeed come to claim the throne in this dream.
> The setting shifted, and X now rowed a small fishing boat. Choppy waves slapped the hull, rocking him gently. He tried to bring in the oars, but his right arm wouldn’t respond. Glancing down, he saw why. Red vines snaked around his muscles.
He startled as something swam alongside the boat and then jumped into the air, releasing a series of chirps. The smooth gray body of a dolphin splashed him with salt spray. Another darted under the waves, and then two more joined the first two. They leaped out of the ocean, crashing back down together. The pod of spinner dolphins circled the boat.
Over the clicking and splashes came the same voices from the sky. He recognized one of them.
Dr. Huff.
X looked up at a light brighter than the sun. He raised his right hand to cover his eyes.
“We have no choice,” Huff said. “We do this now, or he dies.”
X gritted his teeth in pain and looked down again at his arm. The vines tightened, cutting off the circulation.
“If we do this, the Cazadores will challenge him and try to take the throne,” said another voice.
“If we don’t, he’ll die anyway,” replied another.
The bright light intensified, and the view of ocean and dolphins vanished. The dreamscapes darkened, leaving X in a foggy limbo where he was only half aware.
He couldn’t feel much, but he knew that something terrible was happening to his body.
Sometime later, he awoke in a room that reeked of chemicals. He forced one eye open to a bright space with gray bulkheads. Definitely not his room at the capitol tower.
He was lying on a table, unable to move, paralyzed to the point that he felt only fear. Through his blurred vision, he could see the shapes of several people huddled over him. They seemed to be wearing white masks.
“I think he’s awake,” someone said.
“How is that possible?” replied another.
X tried to speak, but no words came. Something covered his mouth and nose.
A machine beeped, drawing his attention. Just when he saw the IV, one of the medical staff stuck a needle in his left arm. He didn’t feel the prick, but a warm sensation washed over him.
Hell Divers (Book 7): Warriors Page 10