“You decide what you’re going to do with Ted yet?” Rodger asked.
X kept his eyes on the controls. “I should make him climb this crane in the storm, wearing metal armor, but I don’t trust him, so he’s shoveling shit at the livestock pens.”
“He’s lucky you saved him,” Michael said.
“We got bigger problems than Ted,” X said. “The last transmission I got from Discovery before the satellite went down was that the Lion is smack in the eye of that hurricane.”
“With the new shields I added to the exterior, Discovery should be fine,” Samson said.
“I’m not worried about the airship,” X said. “I’m worried about losing a warship and her crew. We need every Cazador soldier to defend the frontier.”
The rain continued drumming on the windshield as the Sea Wolf climbed and dipped through ten-foot waves, toward the unmanned oil rig. Cricket chirped when they finally reached the isolated platform.
The winds had reached a steady twenty-five miles per hour.
“The satellite dish is at the top of that crane,” Samson said.
Michael couldn’t even see the dish through the sheeting rain.
X pulled the starboard side along a concrete pillar, trying to keep the boat steady in the rising swells.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.
A wave knocked them against the pillar, with an audible crunch.
“I don’t feel so good,” Rodger said, holding his stomach. X nodded toward the head, halfway down the passageway.
“Good thing we got Cricket,” Samson said, “because we can’t count on Rodge.”
“Michael, send out the bot and get us tethered up,” X said. “I’ll hold us steady.”
Using his wrist computer, Michael directed Cricket to follow him outside. They moved past the head, where Rodger was embracing the toilet.
“Tin,” X called out. “I mean, Commander.”
Michael stopped at the hatch and turned.
“Be careful,” X said.
“Always.” Michael put on his goggles before opening the hatch. The wind and rain hit him so hard, he stumbled back a step.
Samson stood in the passage, shielding his face from the wind. Michael gave him a thumbs-up and then closed the hatch. He turned to look at the rig looming above them. He still couldn’t see the satellite dish, but he could see the boom of the crane.
“All right, Cricket, moment of truth!” Michael shouted over the wind. He moved over to the starboard rail and braced himself as another wave pushed them closer to the concrete pillar.
Grabbing the bow rope, he uncoiled it and prepared to throw it over to a cleat, then realized they could not tether safely here.
Michael wrapped the rope around his chest and tied it with a bowline, then brought up his wrist monitor. “X, I’m heading up with Cricket!” he shouted.
A reply came just as Michael climbed onto the rail and jumped into the water. He sank beneath the waves and kicked back to the surface. Then he swam over to the ladder running down the concrete pillar and started up the rungs.
He could hear the angry replies on the wrist monitor as he climbed, and looking over his shoulder, he saw the Sea Wolf pulling away. X raised a hand behind the windshield, probably unleashing a stream of curses in two languages.
Michael’s robotic hand clamped down on each rung while Cricket fought the wind and hovered up to the first level of the rig. From there, they took an interior stairwell up to the fifth level. Michael stopped just inside the protected access to look up at the satellite dish. It was still pointed at the sky, and he didn’t see any external damage.
Using his wrist computer, he directed Cricket to check out the dish. The drone rose into the air, battling the wind and rain. Several moments later, it was in position. Using one of its two arms, it reached out and opened the panel to the dish. Then it deployed a small metal finger into a slot to run diagnostics.
Michael cursed when he saw on his monitor that the problem was electrical. Cricket didn’t have the tools to replace electrical cables, but Michael had them in his pack. He unslung the rope and, keeping his head down, crossed the deck to the crane.
Cricket flew back down and met him there. With carabiners, Michael clipped one end of the rope to the drone, and the other end to his belt.
If he fell, Cricket would at least be able to hold on to him.
That was the idea, anyway.
Michael looked up at the crane, thinking twice about the plan. He pushed his fear aside and started climbing the diagonal boom, keeping the metal between himself and most of the wind. Cricket rose back up to the dish, the rope paying out until little slack remained.
If not for Michael’s robotic hand, he could not possibly have made it up the slick wet steel. Halfway up, he looked down. The Sea Wolf rode about five hundred feet out, disappearing behind a wave, rising again on the next one.
Michael continued the ascent, hand over hand up the steel latticework, not stopping until he got to the dish. Cricket had the panel off now, exposing the guts of the dish. Michael hooked his robotic arm over a metal crossbeam, got a good footing with his boots, and dug into his tool kit.
Carefully removing three different colored spools of insulated wire, he placed them inside the open dish. Then he found the proper tools and went to work.
Cricket swayed in the wind ten feet away, its red hover nodes glowing in the gray sky. When Michael had the time, he would finally fix the machine’s thruster so it could fly and maneuver faster in conditions like these.
It took fifteen minutes to replace the wires. Not as bad as he had thought. He brought up his wrist computer and yelled, “Now try hailing Discovery on the encrypted line!”
Michael brought the device to his ear but kept the mechanical arm gripped tight on the crossbeam. The wind pushed and tugged his body as he waited for a response. It came a moment later.
“We’re through!” X said. “Now, get your culo back down here!”
Michael looked down and felt his gut sink. This wasn’t like diving into the sky. Unlike in a dark storm over the wastes, he could actually see what was below him.
Cricket moved back over to button down the panel over the new wiring as Michael started off down the boom, keeping three points of contact, thanking all the gods for his robotic hand.
A quarter of the way down, a violent gust ripped both feet loose, and he flapped like a pennant in the gale. Once his heart slowed, he continued down, making sure both boots had a firm purchase.
Five minutes later, he was safely on the platform, where Cricket joined him. After coiling the rope—a precious commodity—they moved back down the enclosed ladder and came out at the bottom, where he flagged the Sea Wolf.
X maneuvered the boat toward the ladder, and again Michael dived into the water. He swam the rest of the way and climbed the boarding ladder to the deck. Only then did Cricket fly down onto the boat.
“Good work, buddy,” Michael said.
The hatch opened, and Rodger was there, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
“Did you do it?” he groaned.
“Piece of cake,” Michael said. “Now, let me in.”
Rodger moved out of the way to let Michael and the robot into the passage. The hatch clicked shut behind them, sealing out the howling wind and making the voices in the command center audible. From the sounds of it, X was talking to Captain Mitchells.
“We’re still searching for their last known location,” Les reported. “I’ll let you know as soon as we find them.”