Hell Divers Series | Book 8 | King of the Wastes

by Smith, Nicholas Sansbury

  “Ada!” X said. He leaned down to help her up, but she turned away, tears stinging her eyes, the room blurring.

  “No,” she whimpered. “We have to go back for her. We have to find her.”

  X crouched in front of her.

  “She’s all by herself out there,” Ada cried. “She came back for me and pulled me out of that nightmare. She saved me!”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find her,” X said. “Now, let’s get you up.”

  Ada held his gaze. “You promise?”

  “We’ll bring her home,” he said. “You have my word.”

  Seventeen

  X stepped up to the council chamber doors, stooping slightly as he banged them open with his palm. In the past, Ton and Victor might have thought he was drunk, but today he just had a headache.

  He had plenty on his mind: determining what to do with the ITC Ranger, establishing a route through the Panama Canal, and rebuilding after the hurricane that had ravaged the islands. Construction was underway to restore the rigs, but losses continued to mount. To rebuild, they must return to the wastes, to salvage metal and parts. There was also the lost oil—almost as bad as losing the crops.

  He had slept only a few hours since the storm abated, and his body seemed sluggish.

  Timothy was still aboard the ITC Ranger, there to purge the AI of Tyron Red, the creator of Industrial Tech Corporation and the machines that ended the world.

  The purge made X nervous, but Captain Two Skulls had clear orders to destroy the carrier if Timothy failed.

  Cazador demolition teams had already boarded the vessel to plant charges in strategic locations. It would take but a single radio transmission for X to order the supercarrier’s destruction.

  Maybe he was making a mistake by not destroying it now, but his gut rarely led him astray, and it told him Timothy was right about the Tyron Red AI not being a threat. On top of that, Ranger’s remaining weapons systems were offline and hence posed no threat to the islands.

  With oil suddenly scarce, they needed that supercarrier’s nuclear-

  powered engines in the supply chain. Hell, even if they kept it at the islands, they could turn that vast flight deck into a floating farm.

  “Ready, sir?” Victor asked.

  X nodded, and the guards pushed open the doors.

  Miles nudged in front of him into the vaulted room, where everyone rose to their feet. He took his place at the foot of the throne while X walked down the ceremonial carpet with his two guards.

  Fifty men and women greeted him with nods or salutes from their various cultures. Representatives from all those cultures were here today, gathered for the special meeting that X had called.

  Cazador soldiers stood in the pews, dressed in their ceremonial armor. Some, like Slayer and Bromista, bore fresh wounds from the storms.

  Merchants in their fancy threads and feathered hats filled the middle rows. Their interests were represented by a new council member, Martino Lupe, a husky Cazador merchant who owned half the fishing fleet, a brothel, and a salvaging operation.

  Unlike his comrades, he didn’t wear a feathered hat over his bald dome, preferring to accessorize his gold-buttoned tunic with a walking stick that had a ruby in the hilt.

  Near the front, Hell Divers in their red coveralls stood at attention.

  Sky people, including those from Kilimanjaro, sat intermixed. Refugees rescued from around the world were here, too. Pedro Gonçalvez and Cecilia Peres, from Rio de Janeiro, wore gray uniforms. The sky people from Kilimanjaro, represented by Captains Rolo and Linda Fina, wore bright-blue uniforms. The two airship captains sat at the council table with Chief Engineer Everhart and Commander Katib for the other sky people, and General Forge, Martino, and Imulah for the Cazadores.

  And now there was a new member of the Vanguard Islands: Yejun, whom X was still keeping secret.

  “All hail King Xavier,” Imulah said.

  “Hail, King Xavier!”

  The voices filled the room.

  X shook his head, and Miles raised his head briefly off his paws before closing his eyes again. After almost two years on the throne, X still hadn’t gotten used to this deference—or the exhausting burden that came with being the leader. But retiring wasn’t an option.

  His people—all of them—needed him. Especially now.

  Head down, he walked the center aisle as he had hundreds of times now, almost every day, to sit in on council meetings. Disputes between fishermen, a crop infected by weevils, petty thefts, a dispute that led to blows . . .

  But tonight, it wasn’t the usual day-to-day problems that brought them together. This meeting was about the fate of their way of life.

  “Today, we meet to discuss our future,” X boomed. “Chief Everhart will start by explaining some of the challenges we will face in the coming months.”

  Michael stood at the council table. “As many of you know, the storm severely damaged our crops and will result in half the normal harvest,” he said. “To sustain our current population, we must find alternative sources of food. We’ll be sending our trawlers out farther than ever before, for seafood to help supplement our diets.”

  “Into the storms,” X clarified. “And away from the zone where Blood Trawler went down, to avoid the very real threat of poisoned fish.”

  Michael continued. “Fire damage was significant on multiple rigs, including the trading post. Damage to living areas was also significant across the islands, and we’ve lost power in many cases.”

  He held out a hand to Rodger and Steve in the crowd. “We are already addressing these issues and working to restore the turbines at the Wind Talker rig. Our goal is to replace all propane and gas power on the rigs with batteries charged by the wind turbines and solar panels.”

  X nodded. It was a good plan, which Michael had been working on even before the storms. It would help ease the pain from the lost oil, but they couldn’t power everything with wind and solar power.

  “We also need to scavenge extra scrap to restore the rigs and protect them against future storms,” Michael continued. “I’m submitting a list to the council requesting more solar panels and turbines to be recovered from the wastes, to replace those we lost.”

  He nodded at X, who cut in.

  “On our raiding missions, we will also scavenge new boats and ships in the coming weeks and months,” X said. “Fortunately, thanks to our Hell Divers, we have a good idea where many of these supplies will be coming from. I’ll turn it over to Commander Katib of Team Raptor.”

  Magnolia stood up at the council table.

  “Thank you, King Xavier,” she said. “My divers have returned from a mission at Panama, where we discovered a trove of vessels and equipment that will help us rebuild our fleet. Further, the canal is clear and can be used to access the Pacific Ocean and explore new areas of South America and beyond.”

  Whispers and hushed voices rang out, forcing her to pause.

  She tucked a lock of green hair behind her ear. “Radiation ranged from minimal to high, but most of the serious readings came from nearer the city.”

  “You find barcos—eh, ships—en el canal?” Martino asked in broken English.

  “Yes, some.”

  “Ah, ¡excelente! Perhaps this is opportunity.” Martino loosened his tunic. “We take great loss in storm, need new barco.”

  “We also heard you find giant crabs that hurt two divers,” said another Cazador.

  Magnolia spoke. “We suffered no human casualties, and—”

  An angry voice cut Magnolia off. “You’re lucky to have gotten out alive!” Captain Rolo called out. “The surface there is crawling with monsters. Do not sugarcoat this, Commander.”

  X let the audience and council speak without interrupting them. This was how he made decisions: by listening to all voices, even the angry ones.

  “
Bad rads and mutants, just like our bunker—why we hide underground,” Cecilia said.

  “Sim, but we no hide anymore,” Pedro argued. “We must fight for our home.”

  Cecilia nodded. “Yes, but maybe better places to fight, less monsters.”

  “The canal is our way to the western shore of South America and beyond,” Magnolia said. “Strategically, it’s the best place we can establish an outpost.”

  “Our soldiers have new weapons and equipment to clear the terrain and hold a post,” General Forge added.

  “May I remind you that our soldiers have suffered heavy casualties over the past few years?” Imulah said. “Normally, I do not opine on strategy, but this is something to consider.”

  “Noted,” X said. “All your points. But if a teenager can survive alone for a decade down there, so can we.”

  There was a fresh buzz among the audience.

  “Bring Yejun,” X said to Ton.

  The guard hurried away and returned a few minutes later with Yejun, who was cleaned up and wearing a tan tunic. His hair was shorter, and his eyes seemed brighter.

  “This young man will help us take the Panama Canal,” X said. “May I introduce Yejun, who survived there on his own and knows the terrain better than the monsters do.”

  He paused for a moment, letting the crowd examine Yejun.

  “Ultimately, it’s the council’s decision, but our population faces disease, severe weather, famine, and dwindling resources in the coming months,” X continued. “Not much different from our days in the sky, and while I hoped we would avoid the same problems, Mother Nature has her own ideas.”

  General Forge nodded. “We must act,” he said.

  “I agree,” Magnolia said.

  “Me, too,” Michael said.

  Imulah dipped his head.

  Wasting no time, X made the first of several motions.

  “With council approval, I move to restore and commission the ITC Ranger into our fleet,” X said. “Second, General Forge will prepare an army to secure the Panama Canal and establish an outpost, utilizing the vehicles and equipment from the supercarrier. Lieutenant Wynn remains behind to keep the peace.”

  He turned to the Hell Divers. “Team Raptor will return to the canal with Yejun to recover valuable assets and maps,” X said. “Once the outpost is secure, the divers will continue to search for new areas to raid, so that we can create a viable supply chain to quickly and efficiently get goods back to the Vanguard Islands.”

  X swept the room with his gaze to judge the reactions, but most people simply stared back with respect and confidence.

  Most of these people supported his leadership, and for that he was grateful.

  But not everyone seemed so confident in him or his plan.

  Captain Linda Fina stood at the table. “If I may.”

  X gestured for the elderly woman with wispy white hair to stand.

  “My people lived in chains for decades at Mount Kilimanjaro,” she said. “When I saw Hell Divers, I didn’t believe my eyes . . .” She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a sigh before opening them. “Angels came and saved us from the machines and brought us to this paradise. I believe this paradise will still produce what we need, which is not a terrible lot.”

  She reached up to her wrinkled face.

  “I’m old and have lived far longer than I should have,” Fina continued. “In my many years, I’ve learned that humanity is resilient and that we can survive in dire conditions.”

  Rolo stood and looked X in the eye. “I learned something by taking my people to Kilimanjaro, and I swore I would never take another risk like that,” he said. “If we commit our resources to the Panama Canal, we risk everything.”

  The captain gestured to Magnolia and then Yejun. “You heard the stories. You know what’s there. And just because one kid survived by hiding in a ship doesn’t mean we won’t suffer terrible casualties and loss of precious resources.”

  X understood Captain Rolo’s conservative stance, but hearing Fina side with him surprised him.

  “A kid surviving out there means nothing,” said another man.

  X looked past the council table to the third row, where a man wearing an expensive tunic and an eye patch stood.

  Carl Lex, the former chief engineer of the ITC Victory, was lead salvage man on the rig now, and was known for his suaveness.

  Charmer, they called him.

  “Speak,” X said.

  “I saw kids survive things they shouldn’t have at the machine camp,” Charmer continued. “They are resilient—often more so than adults—and to use one as a reason to invade a place that my old mate Kade described as ‘hell on earth’ isn’t a good sell, with respect, Your Majesty.”

  Kade looked at X, clearly taken aback at hearing his name.

  “Going there would be a mistake,” Charmer added. “One that could cost us everything.”

  “Kade, what do you think?” X asked.

  Kade’s dark eyes flitted from Rolo to Charmer, then back to X. “I’m a Hell Diver. I follow orders and always have.”

  X just let the dynamic play out. It seemed to be the Tanzania sky people against the Hive sky people and the Cazadores. He looked down at Miles, who let out a bored whine.

  “Enough talk,” X said. “We put this to a vote. All in favor of my orders, raise your hand.”

  Just as X had thought, it was Magnolia, Imulah, General Forge, and Michael against the two captains.

  Pedro and Cecilia huddled together, speaking in Portuguese. If they voted against the mission, it would be a tie.

  Pedro finally pulled away from Cecilia.

  “We say, sim to Panama,” he said after a dramatic pause.

  “Very well,” X replied. “General, prepare your soldiers. Chief Everhart, ready the fleet. Commander Katib, get your divers ready. We’re heading to the canal as soon as the airship and the ITC Ranger are ready to sail.”

  X paused. There was one last announcement.

  “It may reassure you to know that I will be leading our brave men and women into the wastes.”

  Hushed voices broke out, and a man in the back of the room stood.

  “King Xavier,” he said in a croaky voice.

  X narrowed his eyes at a thin, elderly man that he didn’t remember seeing before.

  “Mi hermano was on the Sea Sprite,” he said. “I fear if you go, you will suffer same fate . . . the way is cursed.”

  X stiffened in front of the gazes now centered on him, recalling a quote from Carthaginian General Hannibal Barca. In his deepest voice, he said, “Either I will find a way or I will make one.”

  * * * * *

  “Wait. We’re going back to that hellhole?” Arlo asked as he entered the Vanguard launch bay.

  “Arlo, glad to see you back on your feet,” Magnolia said. “But don’t start.”

  “My feet weren’t the problem. It’s my arm, and it still hurts like a bitch.”

  “Suck it up, buttercup. You’re tough, right? Thunder and lightning and all that jazz?”

  “You been watching old-world movies again, because I didn’t understand much of that.”

  “Now you know how we feel.”

  Arlo chuckled. “Yeah, yeah.”

  Magnolia had a pack of greenhorns showing up soon. There were twenty-two rookies in the ranks now that two more had joined after the storm. Most had jumped only once or twice on practice dives in clear skies.

  Some of the veterans were still off spending time with their families, including Edgar and Sofia. Magnolia would be spending time with Rodger, but like her, he had duties. At the moment, he was with Michael, getting the ITC Ranger ready for the mission.

  She was the only veteran here besides Arlo and Kade, unless you counted Gran Jefe. The big Cazador was sitting on a crate, picking the last bits of w
hite flesh off a fish skeleton. He thumbed out an eyeball and ate it, then offered the other eye to Kade, who politely declined.

  The cowboy had saved Magnolia’s ass twice now. She didn’t know much about him, only that his family was killed when the ITC Victory arrived in Tanzania. It was obvious he had suffered over the years, which was probably why he seemed to have a death wish, much as X once did.

  In a way, Kade reminded her of X and also Commander Rick Weaver, another good man who had fought like he had nothing to lose.

  “So what’s the plan for these rookies?” Arlo asked, wincing as he walked over.

  “You afray to eat fish eye?” Gran Jefe said, grinning.

  “Piss off, man.”

  Gran Jefe’s grin faded. He got up off the crate, tossing the fish bones to the deck.

  “Children,” Magnolia said. “¡Niños!”

  She stepped between them, smelling Gran Jefe’s hot, fishy breath.

  “Lo siento, Commander Katib,” he said. “Sorry.”

  Gran Jefe stepped back, making a gracious gesture as a gentleman might have done centuries ago. Magnolia saw it for what it was: all part of an act.

  “Okay, listen up,” she said. “As you all know, King Xavier and the council have voted to push on with the expansion in Panama. That means we’re going back to the skies, and we need to be ready to dive again.”

  She stepped over to the rows of chutes, boosters, and other gear neatly set out in the launch bay.

  “Before the greenhorns get here, I need help organizing and sorting what gear we have.”

  “You got it, boss,” Arlo said.

  Magnolia sighed. Like everyone on the islands, they were running out of supplies. The armor was old, and battery packs needed replacing.

  Kade worked quietly through the bags of gear, checking everything twice before dropping it in the green-light pile.

  She walked over, and Kade politely took off his cowboy hat, running a hand through his thick brown hair.

  “I heard Ada’s awake,” he said. “She okay?”

  “She’ll pull through.”

  “Yeah, but she’s going to want to find her animal,” Arlo said.