Warriors

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “Mount Kilimanjaro is huge,” Timothy said. “At five thousand, eight hundred ninety-five meters above sea level, it’s the world’s twentieth-highest summit. A hard slog, but not a technical ascent, so you won’t need climbing gear.”

  “Still, we don’t know exactly what the terrain is like,” Les cut in. “So we’ll approach cautiously and come up with a plan once we’re closer. Commander Everhart will explain.”

  Michael stepped in front and said, “I’ve been given the duty and honor of helping plan this mission. After much deliberation, Captain Mitchells and I have agreed we will hover at forty thousand feet, about ten miles from the target. Here.”

  Timothy marked the spot on the digital map, not far from the area Pedro had pointed out: an area of low hills around the base of the mountain where the decisive battle had occurred.

  “From there, we will send in Cricket to access the machines’ defenses,” Michael continued. “If we determine we can get close enough to send a missile down their throats, we’ll launch one of the nukes.”

  “We expect the base to be buried and heavily defended,” Samson said. “If I were the machines, I would protect the mainframe with every resource available.”

  “And if we can’t launch the nukes?” Arlo asked.

  “Then we go with plan B,” Michael said. “Send in the Hell Divers, with Les and me leading two teams to deliver the virus that will produce the same effect.”

  “I’ll take Team Phoenix with Lena, Ted, and Edgar,” Les said.

  “And I’ve got Team Raptor,” Michael said. “Arlo, Sofia, and Hector are with me.”

  “If that happens, Eevi and Timothy will man the ship with Alfred and his skeleton crew,” Les said. “The rest of us will locate the main facility, infiltrate it, and upload the virus.”

  Several of the divers exchanged worried glances.

  Michael discreetly scrutinized them one by one. Ted was nervously running his fingers through his hair. Arlo doodled on his notepad, making stick figures of what had to be machines. Hector had his arms folded over his muscular chest, showing no emotion.

  Others sought comfort in one another. Michael noticed Edgar brush his finger up next to Lena’s hand under the table. She didn’t seem to mind.

  “I know what you’re all thinking,” Michael said.

  “I doubt that,” Arlo said. “Unless it’s that eight of us are launching an offensive against the machines, when a worldwide effort failed two hundred and sixty years ago.”

  “You have something they did not,” Timothy said.

  The AI had been uncharacteristically quiet for most of the journey, and Michael was glad to see him speaking up.

  “What’s that? You?” Ted asked.

  “No. You,” Timothy said.

  “Hell Divers,” Michael said.

  “And a captain hell-bent on destroying the machines,” Les said. “All I need is for you to show up when the time comes, and fight by my side. I’ll do the rest.”

  Michael subtly glanced at the tall man. The iron resolve in his features was the same that he often saw in X.

  “Any questions?” Les asked.

  When no one spoke, Michael said, “All right, get some shut-eye. We’re all going to need it.”

  The divers got up and slogged out of the room with the technicians.

  “They think it’s a suicide mission,” Eevi said.

  Samson frowned. “The chances of success are thin.”

  “Thanks for keeping that to yourself earlier,” Les said.

  Timothy cupped his hands behind his back but said nothing even though he surely knew the numerical odds for success. Michael didn’t want to hear the number, either.

  Les shut off the digital map. “Let’s get back to the bridge,” he said.

  Timothy’s hologram was already there.

  “What’s our current location?” Les asked.

  Eevi took a seat at her station and scanned the weather conditions. “We’re just passing over the West African coastline,” Timothy replied. “A place that was called Liberia.”

  “And the skies?” Les asked.

  “Storms are still ten thousand feet below us, sir,” Eevi replied. “All clear from what I can see.”

  “For now,” Timothy said, “but according to the archives, several nukes were detonated in areas we are traversing. I’ve adjusted our course, but we will likely experience an increase in storm activity.”

  “Okay,” Les said. “Keep an eye out for hostiles on radar.”

  “You really think the machines could have aircraft?” Eevi asked. “There’s zero evidence of that.”

  “If they had aircraft, they would have found our airships over the years,” Michael said. “They probably thought we were all dead.”

  Les went and sat in his captain’s chair, staring at the section of hull where the portholes had been replaced with lightweight aluminum plates. Michael joined him there for a moment.

  Across the world, X would be halfway to Aruba. And neither team knew how many hostiles waited at their targets.

  “Everyone remain on high alert,” Les said. “We’re in enemy territory. Anything is possible now.”

  twenty-nine

  On the voyage to Aruba, Magnolia and Rodger had spent much of the first day in their bunk. In fact, it was almost dark when they finally got up to eat dinner in the mess.

  She couldn’t deny how happy she felt. Finally giving herself, and committing to Rodger after so long, was a relief. And her hearing had returned to almost full acuity. Even her charred scalp was healing!

  He seemed happy, too, but there were still moments when she found him staring into space. She found herself drifting also, thinking about what the Hell Divers would find in East Africa, and whether she would ever see them again.

  She feared for Layla and Bray.

  The human race couldn’t afford to lose good men like Michael and Les. There were too few left. She had to hope they would somehow manage to shut the machines down and end the threat once and for all.

  Not being there to help them weighed on her, and she felt an absence, something she couldn’t explain.

  Both missions needed her, though, and Rodger needed her more than anyone. Without her, he would do something stupid that would get him killed.

  She thrust her legs into her jumpsuit while he looked for his glasses.

  Magnolia saw them on the deck and scooped them up. Then, still half naked, she placed them gently on his face as a rap sounded on their hatch.

  A militia soldier named Brett poked his head inside before she could finish dressing.

  “Hey, Mags, Rodge,” he said.

  She covered her chest, but Brett remained in the open entryway.

  “King Xavier is sparring with Felipe on the deck,” he said. “You guys should come watch.”

  “Get out of here!” she snapped.

  Brett laughed, then shut the hatch.

  “Dickhead,” Rodger muttered.

  They threw on clothes and left the quarters. A ladder took them to the upper decks. At the top landing, she put on her helmet over her bandaged head.

  The few militia soldiers who had accompanied them on the trip were outside in the darkness, weapons cradled, rain pattering on their armor.

  In the center, X was fighting with Felipe. The young Cazador warrior twirled two blunted cutlasses as he circled X.

  Mac supervised nearby, leaning on his cane.

  Felipe forced X back with several strikes from his cutlasses, which X deflected with his spear, covered in a lightweight aluminum sheath to protect Felipe. The clang of metal on metal rang out.

  Felipe lunged and sidestepped with fluid grace, but X appeared slow and sluggish. He was still recovering from his wounds, and he was still getting the hang of the spear.

  Magnolia had no idea
how he was going to kill Horn with half a spear and half an arm. But he had the will and, as they used to say, he would find a way.

  Soon, Magnolia would also find a way to get her revenge, killing Moreto. The mother of the skinwalker prince had caused many of her own people to die, and what they had done to Sloan made Magnolia shudder each time she thought about it. The gruff militia officer had died trying to protect the Vanguard Islands, losing her skin to the monsters. God knew what else the animals had done to her.

  Magnolia blocked out the mental images and focused on the sparring session that was starting to look more like a real fight.

  Felipe swung his right cutlass low, and X again knocked away the blow. A jab with the left cutlass almost struck X in his chest armor. He jumped back and threw an uppercut with the spear, nearly catching Felipe in the jaw.

  “¡Bien!” Mac yelled. “Good!”

  The other Barracudas drew closer as the session intensified. Magnolia did the same.

  Lightning split the horizon, illuminating the two warriors. X swiped sideways, the blade coming close to Felipe’s neck. Felipe came back with a swing of his right cutlass, which X jumped over.

  He landed on both feet but couldn’t do much besides brace himself against the kick that Felipe planted in the center of his chest armor.

  Barracudas roared and thumped their spear shafts on the deck.

  The impact forced X back. He recovered quickly and threw a left hook that hit Felipe in the jaw.

  The young warrior stumbled backward as the Cazador and militia soldiers shouted even louder.

  “Immortal!” Magnolia yelled.

  “Felipe!” yelled one of the Barracudas.

  Mac got between the two, holding up his cane.

  “Good,” he said to X. Then he looked at Felipe. “Muy bien.”

  “Don’t stop now!” shouted Brett. “It’s just getting good.”

  “Get back to work,” Mac said.

  “You’re not my CO.”

  “Actually, shit-for-brains, Colonel Mac is your CO,” Magnolia called out.

  Brett glared her way, then motioned for the soldiers to follow him away from the impromptu fighting ring. The Barracuda warriors returned to their duties, too, and Magnolia went with Rodger to talk to X.

  He was shaking hands with Felipe, who smiled and then spat blood on the deck.

  “Where you two been?” X asked. “Haven’t seen much of you all day.”

  “My head was hurting somethin’ awful,” Magnolia lied.

  Rodger simply nodded.

  The king looked at each of them, and said, “Meet me in the command center in an hour. We need to go over the intel again.”

  “Aye-aye, sir,” Magnolia said.

  They went to the mess to get some food while they waited. Imulah was a few people ahead of them in the short line.

  “Hey, Imulah,” she said. “Want to sit with us?”

  The scribe turned and smiled politely. He joined them at a long metal table. His plate of grilled sea bass smelled heavenly, but Magnolia didn’t have an appetite. Her head was starting to pulse again, and she swallowed another pain pill.

  “Not hungry?” Rodger asked.

  “You must at least try to eat,” Imulah said. “You will need your energy to fight the skinwalkers.”

  “I know.” She swallowed a few bites of fish and vegetables.

  The warship rocked slightly, and their plates slid on the table.

  “Damn boat doesn’t help my stomach,” Magnolia grumbled. “I really do prefer diving to sailing.”

  Rodger looked as if he might reply, then just shoveled food into his mouth.

  “What’s your take on the machines?” Magnolia asked Imulah.

  He set his fork down and stroked his long beard. “I think that it’s a lie,” he said. “That Horn and his skinwalkers have not joined with them, but I do think they worship them.”

  “The Cazadores really can be sick,” Rodger said. “But there are some good ones, like you, Rhino, Sofia—”

  “There are a lot of good Cazadores,” Magnolia said. “I grew fond of Lieutenant Alejo in Rio de Janeiro, and General Santiago wasn’t all that bad. They both were very brave men and wanted to kill Horn.”

  “It’s a complicated society, fueled by warfare, not unlike many of the old-world societies,” Imulah said. “I firmly believe that the Cazadores’ martial ethos kept the Metal—er, Vanguard—Islands safe all these years.”

  “How do you mean?” Rodger asked.

  “Did you ever read Niccolò Machiavelli or Charles Darwin?”

  “I have,” Magnolia said.

  “The state of nature, and survival of the fittest,” Imulah said. “The islands are prime examples of these theories in action. If it weren’t for the warrior mentality, I’m not sure the islands would have survived.”

  Magnolia agreed with a nod, but she didn’t say what she was thinking: that the warrior society hadn’t saved el Pulpo from defeat at the hands of her people. Then again, his son could still achieve victory and retake the islands.

  A group of militia soldiers, led by Brett, walked into the mess, distracting her from the conversation.

  “Excuse me,” Rodger said. He got up and walked over before Magnolia could stop him.

  “Great,” she whispered.

  “What?” Imulah asked.

  Brett halted as Rodger approached.

  “Hey, I think you owe Magnolia an apology,” Rodger said.

  Brett’s eyes went to Magnolia and then Imulah.

  “I don’t apologize to Cazador sympathizers,” he said.

  “What did you say?” Magnolia called out.

  Rodger stepped up closer to Brett as Magnolia got out of her seat.

  “You better watch your mouth,” Rodger said. “You’re pissing everyone off, and we’re not even to the target yet.”

  Brett smirked. “Like I give a shit if I piss off—”

  Before the words had left Brett’s mouth, Rodger shoved him against a bulkhead. He hit it hard, then let out a scream of rage and tackled Rodger to the deck.

  The entire mess hall got up from their seats to watch.

  Magnolia tried to move in to help, but Rodger headbutted Brett in the nose. The crack echoed, and Brett yelped. He rolled off, holding his gushing nose.

  But Rodger wasn’t finished yet. He grabbed Brett by the throat, choking him while Magnolia tried to pull him back.

  “Rodge, enough!” she shouted.

  Two soldiers crowded around and helped Magnolia pull Rodger off. Brett scrambled away, glaring at Rodger like a frightened, wounded animal.

  “Get him out of here!” Magnolia shouted.

  Brett pushed out of the soldiers’ grip and stalked off through the open hatch, again muttering something about Cazador sympathizers.

  Chest heaving, Rodger watched them leave. Everyone in the mess stared at him as he wiped blood from his face.

  “What y’all lookin’ at?” Rodger said.

  Imulah sat back down and returned to his meal. The sailors and soldiers did the same.

  “Come on,” Magnolia said to Rodger.

  They left quickly, not speaking until they got to the CIC. Ton and Victor stood outside the hatch. Magnolia pulled Rodger back around the corner, out of view.

  “What the hell was that all about?” she said.

  “I’m sick of people talking shit.”

  “Yeah, but was attacking Brett necessary?”

  Rodger didn’t reply. Still breathing heavily, he opened the hatch to the CIC.

  X was there, his spear arm lying across a table covered with several well-worn maps. Miles sat on the deck.

  “You’re late,” X said.

  General Forge, Lieutenant Colonel Ranker, and Colonel Mac were also inside, looking out the portholes
at the dark water.

  “Shut the hatch,” X said. “We’ve devised a plan for recon. I’ll let General Forge explain.”

  General Forge stood stiffly, his stone jaw set as he looked over the map. He pointed to a bay and spoke while Lieutenant Colonel Ranker interpreted.

  “The general says this is the location of the outpost, and he’s marked where the drone captured footage of Raven’s Claw and also the submarines. This is an oil refinery, and part of the reason the Outrider was set up.”

  Forge then pointed to several buildings near a sprawling equipment complex. Magnolia had seen the video feed. The pump stations, vacuum pipestills, and drums were like what she had seen back at the Bloodline outpost.

  “This is why we can’t nuke the island,” X said. “The oil in there will determine whether the Vanguard Islands survive or die.”

  Forge pointed to the eastern part of the map and spoke.

  “He says this is where he proposes sending our stealth speedboats,” Ranker said. “It’s a little over a mile hike, and it will allow Renegade and Shadow to stay out of view while two strike teams make sure the targets are still in the same place.”

  “What about mines or booby traps?” Magnolia asked.

  “There could be some out there, but I doubt they will be anywhere near the route we’re taking,” Mac said. “Still, I’ll bring my best scouts and minesweeping equipment.”

  “It’s a good plan,” X said. “But keep in mind, this route wasn’t in the footage from Cricket, so we have no idea what conditions there will be.”

  “The Barracudas can handle it,” Mac said. “I’ve requested permission to lead the scouting mission, and General Forge has accepted.”

  “Good,” X said.

  Forge stepped back and looked at X.

  “He says once we confirm the targets are there, he will attack with the warships and take out the submarines and Raven’s Claw,” Ranker said. “Then you can go in, find Horn, and deal with him and Moreto, if she’s there.”

  “What?” Magnolia asked. “What do you mean, if she’s there.”

  X scratched his week-old beard.

  “I’ve got classified information,” he said. “This doesn’t leave the CIC.”

  “Okay,” Magnolia said.