The young diver performed such a graceful two-stage flare, X might have cheered if not for a scream over the comms. X turned to see Hector smack into the other ship’s hull, just below the rail.
Lena and Alberto came in hot, both of them running, then tumbling in a shroud of tangled cords and chutes.
Two Cazadores dived over the side of the ship to retrieve Hector.
X ran over, pulling off his helmet on the way, ready to jump in himself. But the Cazador swimmers got Hector up to the surface. He thrashed in their grip—a good sign.
Miles came trotting over with Ton and Victor. They watched as the swimmers got Hector into a flotation litter and two others winched him up to the deck.
A pair of medics treated Hector for injuries.
“You’re lucky,” said one. “Your armor saved you from breaking bones.”
Hector didn’t seem to understand the medic, and the other translated. A grin crossed Hector’s face, and he said something in Spanish.
“He said he’s ready to go back up,” the medic told X.
X smiled back at Hector. Then he walked over and patted Ted on the shoulder.
“Good work,” he said. “Let’s see if you can do it twice in a row.”
He took them back into the sky for three more dives, and the team improved on each one. On the fourth, a speedboat showed up with Rhino, Samson, and Lieutenant Sloan.
Once the divers were safely on the deck, he ended the training and left Miles for Lena to take back to the capitol tower. The young woman had taken a liking to the dog, and both he and X trusted her.
After saying goodbye, X boarded the speedboat with Ton and Victor, and Rhino piloted it to a distant oil rig that the Cazadores had turned into a massive dry dock.
During the ride, Rhino filled X in on the night before and what had happened on Elysium. X stroked his graying beard. The jumps had cleared his mind—a good thing, because they were facing a slew of problems.
With the Lion sunk and Star Grazer deployed, they had only Mercury patrolling the barriers. Elysium remained operational but anchored for training. There was no way to contact the crew manning the second fuel outpost in Belize, and X wasn’t willing to send either warship to check on the Iron Reef until they had another to replace it.
And the nagging question remained: What the hell had killed the crew at Bloodline?
The crew of Discovery may have the answer to that, but the electrical storms had kept him out of contact with Captain Mitchells.
At midmorning, they reached the docks surrounding the oil rig. The place looked like a rusted box in the water. Near the roof of the ten-story platform, streaks of bird shit had formed what looked like a white waterfall.
The sun gleamed over the horizon as they tethered the boat next to a score of others. Sergeant Wynn and his advance team of militia soldiers were already here.
“Area is secure,” he confirmed.
Sloan motioned for X and the entourage, and they climbed a ladder up to the only platform overhanging the exterior of the rig.
Rhino went up first, then X. At the top, he turned to help Samson up, who seemed to be struggling even after losing weight.
“I ain’t a spring chicken anymore,” he grumbled.
X chuckled. “That makes two of us.”
The old engineer took his hand and climbed onto the platform, filling his lungs with clean air.
“I hope this was worth the trip,” he said.
“It is for me,” X replied. “I’ve been wanting to see this place for a while.”
The militia soldiers came next, and soon they were all on the platform, along with the four Cazadores in light armor guarding a steel door.
The soldiers held their spear shafts vertically. One of them unlocked the door and stepped aside. Clanging hammers and buzzing saws and grinders echoed through the cavernous space. Ten floors of interior platforms extended off the bulkheads that surrounded two warships moored inside the hangar doors.
Behind the ships were a container ship and what looked like an old cruise ship. Mezzanines and scaffolding, many of them occupied with workers, rose up the sides of the vessels.
A female voice called out in Spanish, and X looked up to see Carmela standing on the deck of the first ship, right above fresh paint that read, “Renegade.”
The colonel wore leather today, forgoing her armor in the hot space. Judging by the grease streaks on her face, she had been here for a while, working alongside the mechanics and engineers.
She shouted down to Rhino and then walked out of view.
“What did she say?” X asked.
“To join her on Shadow,” Rhino said. He waved for the group to follow him toward the metal spans extending over the water.
The militia soldiers watched the Cazadores working inside the facility. The men and women were hard workers, but in the eyes of the sky soldiers, they were also threats.
Many of the mechanics, engineers, and dockhands looked as if they had been working through the night. They too seemed interested in the newcomers, and X found many of them staring at him, some of them glaring.
He was used to it, and unlike his guards, he wasn’t worried about a security threat here. Sloan flashed hand signals, and several of the soldiers fanned out. Ton and Victor moved to a higher platform than the militia soldiers, to keep an eye on all levels at once.
Rhino led the way across another mezzanine over the water, to the second ship. This one was much bigger than Renegade and in much better shape.
The exterior looked like the one that he had rescued Magnolia from back in Florida—the ship where el Pulpo had skewered Rodger like a bug.
X pushed aside the memories and climbed with the others to the deck above. A crane operator smoking a cigarette looked down as he prepared to lower an armored turret.
Carmela raised a hand in the air, but not to the worker.
A white cockatoo with a yellow crest swooped down behind X to land on her shoulder.
“Pretty impressive shop they got here,” Samson said, standing with his hands on his hips. “But the question is, when can these ships be ready to sail? They both look like shit, and that’s coming from someone who spent most of his life working on the Hive.”
Samson was right, of course. While Shadow looked better off than Renegade, much remained to be done, from overhauling the anchor capstan to sandblasting rusty scuppers.
“Ask Colonel Moreto,” X said to Rhino.
Rhino and Carmela spoke for a moment.
“She says Shadow is rough on the outside but the guts are good,” Rhino said, “and the mechanical system wasn’t damaged in the fighting. She thinks we can have it back in service in a week or two, max.”
“What about that one?” X asked, pointing to Renegade.
“Our engineers need piston rings that we don’t have, unfortunately,” Rhino said. “We have to go on a scavenging mission to find them.”
Carmela spoke again, and he translated.
“She says she has a crew of sailors and a team of soldiers ready and waiting to go on your orders, King Xavier,” Rhino said. “They will take a smaller vessel to a location where we believe there are parts.”
“Get it done,” X said.
Rhino told Carmela, and she caught the eye of the soldier who had been shadowing her. He nodded and hurried off.
They weren’t wasting any time. That was good, because X had a feeling there was none to waste. “I want to know the location where they believe there are parts,” he said to Rhino. “Make sure it’s noted on a map and brought to my quarters.”
They continued the tour of the ship, going down the narrow passages. At the bottom deck, they entered a large bay that housed several old-world vehicles. Two were armored trucks with patched rubber tires, while the third was a transport vehicle with tracks.