“They are still in isolation, but the immune boosters should have kicked in,” Sloan said. “We’re waiting for Dr. Huff to clear them.”
“Good,” X said. “And how are our defenses just in case the skinwalkers show up?”
“Tight as they can be,” Sloan said. “Colonel Forge is helping secure the borders with warships Shadow and Renegade.”
X was anxious to meet the colonel again, to judge whether this was all another Cazador ploy, or if he really could trust the man. With Rhino gone, he needed a new ally.
X looked to Michael. “I want you to restart the greenhorns’ training as soon as possible,” he ordered. “I’ve done all I can for them while you were gone.”
“Not a problem, sir, assuming Discovery isn’t going anywhere soon,” Michael said with a subtle glance at Les.
The captain didn’t say anything, but X picked up on some tension between the two.
“We might need Discovery to deal with the skinwalkers, too,” X said. “The question is, do we try and hunt them down before they have a chance to attack?”
He checked everyone in the room for their reaction, stopping last on Arlo, who was staring at his stump.
“You want to see what it looks like without the bandage, or what, kid?” X asked.
Arlo stiffened. “No, sir. I mean…”
“Moving on to the defectors,” X said.
Les rolled out a map he had brought, and draped it over the table.
“This does not leave this room,” X said.
Everyone nodded except for Arlo.
“Arlo, you listenin’?” X asked.
“Yes, sir.”
Les used a pin to tap a place in East Africa once known as Tanzania. Someone had already drawn a red circle around a mountainous area.
“Has anyone heard of Mount Kilimanjaro?” the captain asked.
X recalled the name but couldn’t place it.
“You might recall learning about Captain Sean Rolo, of the ITC Victory,” Les said. “Decades ago, he decided to make the dangerous trek across the ocean, looking for a habitable spot to put down in Africa.”
“I remember that now,” Magnolia said. “Captain Ash mentioned it in her logs before she died—how he had reported minimal radiation and weaker electrical storms.”
“I think we all know what happened to the airship and Captain Rolo’s crew after their final transmission.” Les studied the map. “The ITC machine base Pedro identified is located there.”
“Why Africa?” Sloan asked.
“Why not?” X said. “It makes perfect strategic sense to me. I’d bet the next batch of Cazador wine the base is buried inside that mountain.”
“I hope you’re wrong,” Les said.
“What I don’t understand is how there is zero evidence of this offensive,” X said. “If there was a worldwide effort to destroy the machines, it’d be in the archives, right?”
“I asked Timothy this very question, and he believes it was lost to the blackout,” Les said. “The history of these final days before the end vanished in the disruption of all communication networks worldwide.”
X recalled the event Magnolia had discovered when they were sailing on the Sea Wolf to what were then the Metal Islands.
“I believe Pedro is telling the truth,” Les said.
“We have no reason to doubt him,” X said. “Just asking.”
A rap came on the door, and Sloan walked over to open it.
Sergeant Wynn entered with Mac and Felipe. The two Cazadores stood in front of the table as everyone turned to look.
Grimacing from a jolt of pain, X walked over and shook their hands.
“Those who haven’t had the honor, meet Mac and Felipe,” X said. “They fought with General Rhino on the Barracudas and helped me kill Colonel Vargas.”
Everyone in the room nodded at the men.
“I invited them here to thank them for helping capture Colonel Moreto and to seek their counsel on what we should do with her,” X said. “Mac, please speak.”
“Thank you, King Xavier,” Mac said. He translated X’s words for Felipe, who bowed slightly. The young Cazador warrior was still covered in bandages and bruises from the fight that killed Rhino.
X felt the overwhelming dread that hadn’t ceased since the ambush at the Purple Pearl. Losing the big man had hit him harder than most other deaths in his lifetime. Combined with all the other losses, especially Katrina, and his guilt over sending Ada to her likely death, X felt the darkness of depression returning.
Only a few people knew the truth of what X had done, and he was having a hard time keeping it from Michael.
“So, Mac, do you agree with what General Rhino suggested I do with Colonel Moreto?” X asked.
The old man smiled. “What do you think we were trying to do for you, King Xavier?”
“It is different when Cazadores kill each other than when sky people kill them,” X said. “If I lop off her head, will Colonel Forge and the rest of the military be emboldened to avenge her?”
“Not if you do it the Cazador way,” Mac said.
Magnolia almost shot up from her seat. “Sir,” she said, “I was never a big fan of their customs, but you gotta let me do this.”
Maybe it was the hangover, or maybe X was a bit drunk again, but he wasn’t following their conversation.
“What are you guys talking about?” he asked.
“I want to invoke the Black Order of the Octopus Lords, or whatever that stupid shit’s called,” Magnolia said. “I’ll face her in the Sky Arena.”
“Mags, no,” Rodger said, reaching for her arm.
She sidled away from his hand.
“I can take her out easily,” Magnolia said.
X had no doubt of that, but letting one of his best divers enter the arena was still a huge risk.
“Come on, X,” she said. “Don’t make me beg.”
He reached down to pet Miles as the dog panted and looked up at him. His old friend was tired and thirsty.
So was X. To deal with life right now, he needed something harder than fermented fruit.
“I want to talk to Colonel Forge before I decide what to do with her,” X said. He grabbed the bottle of wine. “Arrange a meeting. Until then, I’ll be in my quarters.”
Michael tried to tune out the noise from the work on Discovery. Purple and orange streaks carved up the horizon as the sun retreated behind distant storms for another day.
Hand in hand, Michael and Layla were enjoying a break in the tropical gardens before he must head to the great hall for the meeting between King Xavier and Colonel Forge. After a day shift working on the airship, the hour with Layla before his next task flew by.
He wasn’t sure how many more short dates like this they would have before the next emergency. Defectors, skinwalkers, and uncertain alliances within the Cazador military—threats were encroaching on the paradise of the Vanguard Islands.
Peace, it seemed, was as uncertain as on the day he arrived here.
Michael and Layla strolled through the gardens, enjoying the scents of fruit and flowers. Still, it was impossible to ignore the reason for the construction going on across the rooftop, where new machine-gun emplacements were being rigged behind sandbags.
Several spearguns the size of old-world lampposts angled over the edge of the rooftop, ready to sink boats. There were even flamethrowers to scorch any climbers off the wall.
Sloan and Wynn had gone all out to protect the heart of the Vanguard Islands and the decommissioned Hive.
Any other day Michael might have been able to forget about these things and live in the moment with Layla, taking in the beauty of the tropical gardens. But tonight, he was having a hard time.