Hell divers x fallout, p.7
Hell Divers X: Fallout, page 7
She took a step forward as, one by one, the divers and warriors behind her vanished.
“You must use the utmost care to get home and save your people,” she said. “There is no room for mistakes. No room for heroes. Use your head and not your heart. For humanity to survive, you must live.”
Another voice sounded, this one not in his mind. X turned toward General Forge.
“Sir, Team Eel and Team Knife are almost back with piston rings, valves, a replacement camshaft, and four drums of synthetic engine oil they found,” he said.
“Any word from Octopus or Commander Katib?”
“Nothing yet.”
When X went back to the window, the ghosts had wandered off, replaced by an actual support crew readying the deck for the first batch of scavenged parts.
He stood there watching, thinking about what Captain Ash had said to him.
He knew what she was telling him: Stay back and keep out of the fighting. Lead from behind, not from the front. But it wasn’t his style. Never had been.
Still, Magnolia was out there and might need his help.
“I’m heading down there to wait for the teams,” X said. “Let me know if you hear anything from Commander Katib or Team Octopus.”
Forge took off, and X bent down to Miles. “Stay put, boy. I’ll be back soon.”
Miles licked at his face and whined.
“I know, buddy, but staying here beats that cage, right?” X asked.
The dog’s tail whipped eagerly.
X left the CIC. The two guards assigned to protect him followed with cutlasses sheathed. X knew their names and little more: Sebastian, a young Cazador skilled in sword fighting, who could move like lightning. And Nicolas, a thin Cazador so adept with a spear he was said to have knocked a male Siren out of the sky from twenty yards.
Both men rushed to keep up with X as he raced down the interior stairwells. At the bottom, he opened a hatch to the cargo hold.
Valeria was across the cargo hold with Jo-Jo. The beast knuckle-walked over to X, grunting. He stroked her neck and looked to Valeria.
“Everything good?” he asked.
“Sí, King Xavier. Do you need anything for Miles?”
“No, he’s fine for now, but thanks, Corporal.”
X went to the ten soldiers, who were already suited up and armed with rifles and spears. None of them had helmets on yet, and he could see their faces clearly in the well-lit hold.
Like so many times before, he saw men and women—boys and girls really, too young to have seen the horrors of war and the evil in the wastes. But older men were also here. Men who had fought wars before the kids among them were even born. Geezers like X, with bad backs, arthritis, and shit for hearing.
And like X, these warriors had not seen the end of war.
If he could find a way to get them home, another war awaited them at the Vanguard Islands—one that X wasn’t sure he could win.
“Teams Eel and Knife are almost back,” X said. “Everyone, get ready to pitch in.”
Technicians and engineers wearing coveralls and tool belts stood by to take the found parts inside and start repairs.
X walked over to Edgar, Sofia, and Tia.
“Sir,” Edgar said, “any news on Mags and Gran Jefe?”
“Not yet,” X said.
“I volunteer to go search for them,” Sofia said.
“Me too,” Edgar added.
“I’m in,” Tia said.
“Denied,” said X. “Everyone stays here for now.” He averted his eyes, not wanting to see the betrayed looks on the divers’ faces. He felt it himself.
“I’m sure they are okay,” Sofia said. “Probably hunkered down.”
“We’ll be on standby if you change your mind,” Edgar said.
The divers stepped back from the viewports. X stayed to watch activity out on the weather deck. Even from inside the hold, his Geiger counter showed a significant uptick in rads from last time. Without proper protection, it wouldn’t take much exposure to make a lethal dose.
They had to get out of here before the wind brought more fallout. The only way to survive was to run.
X watched the support team at the edge of the elevator deck waiting to intercept Teams Eel and Knife. There were only five people: three sailors with ropes, and two soldiers with mounted heavy machine guns angled down at the fog.
The elevator deck had already been lowered to the water.
“King Xavier, Team Eel and Team Knife have docked,” Forge said over the comms.
“Copy that,” X said. “I’ll send soldiers down here to help with the supplies.”
He put his helmet on and waved the soldiers onward.
“Okay, let’s get those supplies unloaded pronto!” X shouted.
The hatches opened, and the troops filed out onto the slick deck. X followed them out with the divers.
A sudden howl startled him. But this wasn’t coming from outside the ship.
X turned back to the cargo hold, where Jo-Jo was clearly agitated.
Something was wrong.
His heart jumped at another bestial sound. The trumpeting call of what the Cazadores were now calling “cíclopes ” for their single eye.
“King Xavier, you must get back inside,” said the guard named Sebastian.
A guttural scream pierced the evening. X moved with the troops toward the sound, which seemed to be coming from the water. The warriors formed a phalanx of spears and gun muzzles around him, and the two soldiers on the mounted .50-caliber machine guns kept their weapons pointed out at the water.
“Hurry!” one of the gunners shouted. “Get them out of the water!”
Panicked voices drifted across the weather deck.
“Move, move!” shouted another soldier.
Clanking came from the stern, where the elevator was rising back up.
“Sir, we must go,” Sebastian said.
X hesitated, laser rifle cradled, straining to see what was on the elevator.
“Command, anyone got eyes up there?” he asked.
“Negative—fog is too dense,” came the reply.
The trumpeting call came again, but there were no human answers to the horrifying sound. That told X they were either trying to keep quiet or already dead. Once he was inside with Edgar and Sofia, the guards shut the hatches. They stood there looking out the viewports in nervous anticipation.
The elevator finally clanked to a stop. Soldiers inched forward through the mist, spears and machine guns at the ready. X clenched his teeth and readied his blaster. He narrowed his eyes at movement in the dense fog. Out of the curtain came four men from the salvage team carrying crates. They hurried across the weather deck. And that was it. Nothing else emerged from the elevator.
X lowered his head. Another four men lost to the wastes.
Soldiers escorted the survivors. They all had injuries, and all were spattered with the blood of their dead comrades. Technicians in hazard suits moved the salvaged parts and gear inside the cargo hold. As they stowed it all away, X realized that the most important equipment was still out there. So was his best Hell Diver, a woman he loved like a daughter.
He turned to the open hatches and peered out through the mist.
“Come on, Mags, where are you?” he whispered.
In his mind, he pictured where she was, out in the suburban wilderness where dingoes, cyclopes, and the bear-size Tasmanian devils lurked.
“King Xavier.”
General Forge came trotting across the bustling cargo hold.
“What is it?” X asked, fearing the worst.
“We picked something up on radar, sir,” Forge said.
X looked back out the viewports, toward the water.
“You mean sonar?”
“No, up there,” Forge said. He pointed up.
“What, in the sky?”
“Sí.”
“What is it, an airship?”
“I don’t know, sir, but it’s moving fast.”
X stepped up to the hatches as they closed. Bending down, he searched the storm clouds. Had the Vanguard returned to finish them off?
* * * * *
Inside a cell in the capitol tower, Michael bowed his head in despair. This was the same place they had kept Ada after she dropped a container full of Cazadores into the ocean, just after the last war.
“Last war,” he whispered. They had hoped it would be the last, but it seemed humanity simply couldn’t find a way to coexist. Now their one hope was gone.
He still couldn’t believe that X had perished in the wastes. And Magnolia. And Rodger . . . So many of his friends, people he loved and considered family, were dead.
Michael curled up on the slab of concrete, trying to keep from drifting into the darkness of despair. Up until yesterday, he had believed that King Xavier would return to save him and crush Charmer like a coconut shell. But if Charmer was telling the truth, then King Xavier wasn’t returning and the Cazador army was all but wiped out. Only the Wave Runners, who were in league with Charmer, remained.
It seemed the chances of anyone coming to Michael’s rescue were slim.
Lieutenant Wynn had been relieved of duty and was God only knew where. The remnants of militia from the Hive had seen the writing on the wall and had sworn allegiance to Charmer.
Which left Layla and Victor—assuming Charmer hadn’t taken Victor into custody, or worse. Michael could only hope his wife was safe with Rhino Jr. and Bray. He didn’t want her trying to mount a rescue, not on her own.
But who would come to her aid if she sought it? Michael kept trying to figure that out.
Maybe she could get the sky people from the Hive, Pedro and his people from Rio de Janeiro, and Cazador allies. But the chances were slim. Why would they risk their lives and all-out war to save someone who might be guilty of murder?
Now the Cazadores knew all about Ada sinking the shipping container. That meant that a sky person had murdered their own and, moreover, that King X had known about it, choosing to banish Ada to the wastes and then accepting her back.
Charmer had spread that story across the rigs. And now every citizen of the Vanguard Islands knew about Michael’s alleged crime. The ceremony at the Sky Arena was the perfect way to paint Michael as the villain and Captain Rolo as the hero.
He shook his head in agony, his long hair whipping across his face. He’d never seen any of this coming. Who could have? While the Cazadores and his people were off setting up in Panama and trying to find the Coral Castle, the sky people from Tanzania were sitting here, getting healthier and stronger. Charmer had plotted and waited for his chance to strike.
Michael looked at the cell across the hallway. Moonlight streamed through from the windows down the hallway, falling on the sleeping form of Steve Schwarzer. The deputy chief engineer had stood by Michael, declaring his innocence and getting himself thrown in the clink.
Charmer was smart. He was cunning. He knew that letting Steve go could spark a rebellion. The old Cazador bladesmith had a lot of friends across the rigs. The only way to keep him quiet was by keeping him here.
Or killing him. Perhaps they still would.
Michael closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Finally, sometime after midnight, he must have drifted off, only to jerk awake a few hours later.
The sun was not yet up when the hatch opened. Heavy footfalls came from the passage outside.
Two guards wearing black pull-down face masks walked inside. Charmer was behind them, unmasked.
“Get up,” he said.
Michael stood in front of the cell door. Steve was also awake now. He pushed himself up and staggered over to grab the bars.
“Coming to kill us in the middle of the night?” he asked.
“Coming to move you for your own safety,” Charmer replied. “Put your hands out.”
“Where’s my wife?” Michael asked.
“She’s safe with the kids. Unlike you, I wouldn’t hurt a child. Now, hold out your hands.”
“You won’t get away with what you’ve done,” Michael said.
“Away with what?” Charmer asked. “You’re the one who will stand trial, not I, amigo.”
A guard fastened cuffs around Michael’s wrist and prosthetic arm. He wasn’t sure he could break out of them, but this might be his only shot. If he could take down these two guards and Charmer, maybe he could free Steve and get to Layla and the kids.
That thought ended when Charmer pulled an Uzi submachine gun from under his tunic and aimed it at Michael’s forehead.
“Don’t get any thoughts in that evil little head of yours,” he said. “I don’t want to end up like Oliver and his son.”
“You really are a prick,” Michael said.
“To survive in this world, you have to be willing to break a few eggs. Or heads.”
“That’s not true,” Steve called out. “You can still be a decent human being.”
“Shut up, old man.”
The guards unlocked the cells and took the two prisoners out, but instead of going down, they headed up to the rooftop.
“Where are you taking us?” Steve asked. “You going to have us fight in the arena now?”
Charmer didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Michael already knew where they were going.
The airship Vanguard was mounted across the roof, past the Sky Arena, and that was where they were heading. What Michael didn’t understand was why.
For your safety . . . The words rang in his mind.
It took only a few more minutes before they got to the open ramp. Sky people stood guard. But these weren’t the faces he had known his entire life. These were men and women from Tanzania.
Some of them wore militia gear; others were in plain clothes. Each held a weapon: pistols, bolt-action rifles, submachine guns.
They watched Michael as he approached. It was clear these weren’t the eyes of hope and awe that had greeted him when he dived through a lightning storm to save them at Kilimanjaro.
These were looks of fear and disgust. They all thought he had killed Oliver and his son. Charmer had convinced them of Michael’s guilt before the trial even started.
As Michael staggered up the ramp to his former home, he felt dizzy. Anger coursed through his veins, filling his heart with rage.
He should have tried to take Charmer and the guards down when he had the chance. Now there were too many. Not to mention that he was going to be in the sky.
In the sky . . . Maybe this wasn’t a bad thing, after all.
Memories filled his mind as he walked through the old, familiar passages. He passed a hatch leading to the gas bladders. In one of them, he had helped save the ship when he was just a boy. He knew this ship better than any living sky person.
The anger remained, though happily, the light-headed feeling faded as he was taken to the brig with Steve. Charmer stopped in front of an open cell.
“This is where you will remain until your trial,” he said. “Don’t worry, it won’t be long. We have just a few other things to deal with first.”
He shut the barred gate behind Michael. “Stick your hands through. Sorry it came to this, mate,” Charmer said, unlocking the cuffs.
“Wait,” Michael said.
Charmer stood there, watching him.
“Promise me you won’t hurt my wife and kid,” Michael said. “That you won’t take vengeance against my people. You’ve won, Charmer. No one else needs to get hurt.”
“That all depends on whether people cooperate.” Charmer gave his mirthless grin. “I assure you, I won’t hurt anyone who doesn’t have it coming. And for now, as I said, Layla and the kids she watches are safe. I’ve even allowed Victor to stay with them.”
Michael resisted the urge to let out a sigh of relief—he dared not show any emotion.
Charmer turned, then hesitated. The brow rose over his good eye. “You know, if you confess, it might avoid what you fear . . . for most everyone.”
“You’re slipperier than eel shit, you know that?” Steve said. “A confession would be a lie!”
The guard holding Steve punched him in the gut, dropping him to his knees.
“Stop!” Michael shouted. “Don’t . . .”
His words trailed off when Charmer pointed the Uzi at him again. “Did you have something else to say?” he asked.
Michael glared back but said nothing more.
“Get him in that cell,” Charmer said.
The other guard shoved Steve backward into the holding cell, then locked the door.
“I guess the adventure is over,” Steve said when the guards left. He lay on the floor of their cell, drooling blood.
“Are you okay?” Michael asked.
Bending down to examine Steve, he noticed someone in the cell at the end of the brig. Someone had come over to the bars, their cut and bruised face almost unrecognizable in the darkness.
“Michael . . .”
The voice was female, but it wasn’t until he stood and pressed his face against the bars of his cage that he recognized the battered features of the ship’s former XO.
“Eevi,” he whispered. “What did they do to you?”
“I tried to stop them . . .” She lowered her head and sobbed. “Timothy did too. We tried.”
“Stop them from what?”
She glanced up at Michael with one eye swollen shut. In the other, he saw sadness but also raw fear.
“They said if I talk, they’ll kill everyone I love,” she said. “But they already did that.”
“What do you mean?” Michael asked. He felt the dread rising inside him. It reminded him of the day his father died on a dive.
Eevi sniffled and wiped the hanging strand of snot from her broken nose.
