“Two hundred and fifty–plus years underground,” he said. “So many things could have killed them, and now we’re worried about a common cold.”
“It’s like making first contact,” said Layla.
Michael had a hard time understanding how just breathing on one of these people might kill them. He had spent his life in the skies before meeting the Cazadores. But life in the skies and dives to the surface had still introduced his body to the microbiota of today.
Michael glanced over at the two Cazador soldiers standing guard. The two men had never spent time in a bunker, and like nearly all their people, they had spent their entire lives at the Metal Islands. Being exposed to outside elements made their immune systems resilient.
The people now sequestered in the launch bay never had that luxury. Most of them had been sealed in a vault their entire lives. According to Timothy, who had translated several conversations with their leader, only two men in the entire group had ever seen anything outside those bunker walls.
“Hopefully, the meds we have back at the Vanguard Islands will boost their immune systems,” Les said.
“They’re all so timid,” Layla said. “I doubt they even know how to fight.”
“Sure seems that way,” Les replied.
“Some of them have to know,” Michael said. He thought back to the machine-gun nests and the wall of cars he had discovered outside the police station.
It had appeared to be abandoned for some time, but someone in this group had known the people who manned those posts. And that knowledge had likely been handed down.
“We didn’t find a single weapon, though,” Layla said. “Couldn’t they have picked up a knife or a dropped rifle in the cavern?”
“One of them did,” Michael said, recalling the man who had run at a skinwalker and received an arrow to the chest. “He didn’t make it.”
“If we hadn’t found them, they all probably would have starved over the next year,” said a female voice.
Magnolia Katib walked over to look through the window. Rodger Mintel was right behind her, cleaning his glasses on his ripped shirt.
“I want to talk more with Pedro,” Les said. He pushed his headset mouthpiece up to his lips. “Timothy, can you translate?”
Pedro, the group’s leader, was sitting in a chair, talking to several other bunker survivors. He was a big man with long dreadlocks and a dark beard streaked with gray.
Les fidgeted while he waited for Timothy to join him in the passageway.
“I want to know more about the defectors,” Les said. “I think Pedro knows more than he’s told me.”
“We should really let them rest,” Michael suggested.
“They’ve been through a lot,” Rodger said.
“No time to rest,” Les said. “Not with the threat of the defectors still out there. If they know the location of this base, I want it now, so we can destroy it.”
The almost manic eagerness of his tone worried Michael. They still didn’t really understand what Pedro and his people knew about the machines, and Michael feared that the captain would try to force it out of them.
Michael glanced back into the room. Most of the people not being treated by the technicians were resting on cots, but a boy no older than six walked over to stare back at them.
He gingerly raised a hand, and Michael raised his prosthetic hand to wave. That seemed to scare the kid, who retreated several steps before Michael lowered his titanium hand and raised the other.
The boy smiled, but not at Michael.
Rodger was in the middle of making a funny face, bulging his eyes and sticking out his tongue.
A woman got up from her cot and hurried over to scoop the boy up. She avoided eye contact with Michael and the other divers.
“Rodgeman, you’re scaring them again,” Magnolia said.
“Or they think he’s a god,” Layla said with a chuckle.
Rodger put his hands on his waist and popped a hip at Magnolia. “Don’t hate me because I’m gorgeous, sunshine.”
Michael grinned but grew serious. Pedro had turned to look at the divers. Several of the men and women with him did the same.
It took Michael a moment to realize they weren’t looking at the divers—they were looking at Timothy. The glow of the AI warmed the dimly lit passage outside the launch-bay doors.
“Captain, you’d like me to translate?” he said.
Les nodded. “I’d like you to ask Pedro more questions about the defectors. Find out anything you can, okay?”
“Captain…” Michael started to say. He let his words trail off, knowing that nothing he said would matter anyway.
“Okay, sir,” Timothy said.
The hologram walked through the bulkhead and into the launch bay. Timothy worked his way around the cots of sleeping people, waking several with his glow. They sat up and watched him.
Pedro and several other men stood as Timothy approached.
“Well, you did it, Commander Everhart,” Magnolia said. “You rescued the first human survivors we have ever found besides the Cazadores.”
“We did,” he said.
“Yeah, but now what do we do?” Rodger asked.
“We start by getting to know them better,” Layla said. “Explaining who we are and where we came from.”
“That’s what Timothy should be doing,” Michael said.
Les looked over, clearly agitated. “Commander, the most important thing we can do right now is figure out what they know about the defectors.”
“Okay, sir,” Michael said. “I’m going to go check on Arlo and Edgar.”
Les moved closer to the window while the divers followed Michael down the hallway.
“I’m worried about him,” Magnolia said as soon as they were in the next passage. “He’s obsessed with the defectors.”
“Almost as obsessed with the machines as Rodger is with you,” Layla said.
Magnolia blushed, and Rodger grunted.
“In seriousness, do you blame the captain?” Michael asked. “They killed his only son.”
“Yeah, still…” Magnolia shook her head.
“You know, we’re going to have to tell these people about the Cazadores at some point,” Layla said.
Michael sighed. She was right.
“Technically, the skinwalkers are Cazadores,” said Layla. “So how are we supposed to explain to these people that we are bringing them to a place where the skinwalkers came from?”
“We don’t,” Magnolia said. “No need to explain that to them.”
Michael wasn’t so sure. He wanted to be honest with these people about the Vanguard Islands, their bloody history, and the threat that still existed out there.
“We still don’t know exactly what happened back at home,” he said. “All X told me was that they averted a war and that General Rhino was killed.”
“We’re heading home to more problems,” Magnolia said.
“But at least, we’re heading home,” Layla said. “We’re all lucky to be alive.”
“I sure hope X is okay,” Rodger said.
“He better freaking be,” Magnolia said. “Otherwise, I’m going to kick your ass, Rodge. After all, you promised you would protect him.”
Rodger paused. “I know, but I decided to come protect you instead.”
She let out a huff. “Like I need protection.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Layla said. “I mean, it’s X. He’s the Immortal.”
Michael stopped outside the medical ward. The doors opened, and he gestured for Layla to go first.
Inside, both Arlo and Edgar were sitting up in their beds, their battered faces swollen and red. Bandages wrapped Arlo’s midsection, and all four of Edgar’s limbs were bandaged.
“Hey, Commander,” Arlo said cheerfully. He cracked a smile with several teeth missing.
Edgar had a fractured jaw and could hardly talk at all. He managed a nod as Michael walked over.