Michael looked away from Rodger. “Rads and Sirens, man! Get some clothes on and meet me on the bridge.”
Magnolia laughed and threw off her blanket as soon as Michael had closed the hatch. She didn’t mind giving Rodger a quick peek. He deserved that much.
Rodger swallowed and pushed his glasses up.
“Your hands are shaking,” she said.
“What?” he said. Then he put his hands behind his back. “Oh, sorry.”
Magnolia walked over to him in her underwear, kissed him on the lips, and then left him standing there, quivering, while she changed.
They met Michael on the bridge a few minutes later. The other divers were there, too, but General Santiago and Lieutenant Alejo were gone.
Acid rain continued pounding against the portholes of the bridge.
“All right, listen up,” Les said. “We’ve got a massive storm front bearing down on us, so we’re going to stay below it and follow Star Grazer east and south, the rest of the way to Rio de Janeiro.”
Timothy nodded and said, “Ready to lower the Cazadores back to their ship, Captain.”
“Get it done.”
The airship began to descend toward the warship on the seas.
“So, what’s this situation?” Rodger said. “The storm?”
“No,” Les said. “The skinwalkers.”
“What?” Magnolia asked.
Les walked over to the portholes.
“Apparently, there are more Cazadores than we thought,” he said. “The defectors and mutant life-forms aren’t the only things we have to worry about out here.”
Timothy joined Les at the windows and whispered something that she couldn’t make out. The captain nodded at the AI.
“Lieutenant Brower, you have permission to fire on my mark,” Les said.
“Fire at what?” Magnolia asked.
Les kept his gaze out the porthole, his hands cupped behind his back. She crossed the room to join him with the other divers.
“Mark,” Les said.
A thump sounded belowdecks, and a missile streaked away. The vapor trail curved away from the ship and over the ocean. It hit the central tower of the outpost a moment later, a bright explosion blooming in the darkness.
The fiery blast lit up the tower as it collapsed into a pile of debris. Hunks of glowing shrapnel rained down onto the coastline.
“Fire again, Lieutenant,” Les said.
Another missile roared away from the ship, this time going past the flames of the tower. Two more beats passed before it exploded.
“Is that the fuel station?” Magnolia whispered.
Layla looked at her screen. “Both targets destroyed, Captain.”
“Good,” Les said. He returned to his captain’s chair. “Now we can focus on the real mission.”
Magnolia stared out the windows, watching the distant orange glow. “What if we need to come back here for fuel?” she asked.
Les tabbed his screen, not looking up. “We won’t ever be coming back here. The location was compromised, and we can’t allow the precious fuel to fall into enemy hands.”
Magnolia recalled Santiago’s words about his people being responsible for what happened in the tower.
The skinwalkers weren’t a new group of humans on the surface. They were another faction of Cazadores that had split off and destroyed Bloodline.
“Timothy, set the course to Rio de Janeiro,” Les said. “Time to see what’s really waiting for us there.”
A day had passed since Discovery and Star Grazer departed, and Rhino was going crazy with worry about Sofia. In less than a week, she would arrive at the target and jump from the sky to look for survivors and possibly battle the metal gods.
Rhino would bet his monthly rations that no one was alive there. If the metal gods had intercepted the transmission, that put everyone at risk and could result in a Jamaica-style shit storm or worse.
He tried not to think about Sofia on the ride from the capitol tower to Elysium.
With the loss of the fuel outpost Bloodline and the decimation of their fleet in the battle for the islands, things weren’t looking good for their once powerful armada.
If his subordinates knew the truth about the Lion and her crew, he would have enough swords sticking out of his back to get mistaken for a bone beast. Worse, he still hadn’t recruited for the Cazador team X wanted.
The ride from the capitol tower to Elysium was long, giving him plenty of time to think about it. There were so many places he would rather be. In bed with Sofia, for instance, or at one of the ale shacks where he could soak his worries into submission—even the trading-post rig that he so despised.
The thought had given him an idea.
The only surviving member of the Barracudas lived there now. Mac had retired from service after multiple injuries all but killed him on a mission six years ago, long before Rhino took over the team. It had been a while since he last saw his old friend, but no matter. Mac was someone he could trust.
Rhino watched the capitol tower receding in the boat’s wake.
Moonlight illuminated the little tropical forest and the gun emplacements that the militia manned to protect their new home. X was inside his command center, still trying to raise Discovery on the encrypted channel.
Rhino had thought he needed some time away from the sky people, but that was before he gave much thought to the time he was about to spend with his own people.
But what were his people? He was not a Cazador. Nor was he a sky person. Hell, he didn’t even feel like part of the family he was born into back in the Texas bunker.
You’re a mutt. Nothing more.
He tried to relax on the back of the speedboat, letting the cool breeze wash over him. The pilot kept his eyes on the water, but his son, the boat hand, kept staring at him.
The kid was maybe ten years old, with long hair, eyes the color of the ocean, and a tattoo of a fish on his wrist. Even under a nearly full moon, Rhino couldn’t make out what kind of fish.
The boat thumped over the waves, faster now that they were past the no-wake zone around the capitol tower. Rhino tried to relax, but the rocky ride and the kid’s stare finally got to him.
“What?” he finally said to the boat hand.
In reply, the kid held up his arm in the moonlight, revealing the tattoo of a barracuda. He nodded proudly at Rhino.
This kid wanted to become a warrior on the legendary team that Rhino had once led into battle—a team that no longer existed.
“Sorry, kid, but if I were you, I’d stick to fishing with my dad,” Rhino said in Spanish.
Rhino thought of his old teammates. Whale, Fuego, Wendig. Having them by his side now would have made things easier—and safer. But now he was a general without any soldiers he could truly trust. He also held a secret that could lead to another war.
Picking up his spear, he stood and grabbed the rail as the boat slowed. A dozen smaller craft, including some merchant vessels and troop transports, were anchored alongside Elysium.
Rhino thanked the pilot and gave him a coin. Then he slapped the boy on the shoulder.
“Hunting fish beats hunting men and monsters,” Rhino said. “And it has a better future.”
He stepped up on the gunwale and onto the warship’s ladder.
Clanking blades and shouting from trainees and instructors greeted him on the deck. A drill sergeant stood at a chalkboard, keeping tally of the young warriors sparring in the moonlight.
A scream cut through the general clamor, and a young man dropped to the deck, clutching a broken leg. Two corpsmen splinted the leg and slipped a stretcher under the kid and hauled him away. For the near future, his training was over.