“How you guys feeling?” Michael asked.
Arlo shrugged.
Edgar grunted something that Michael couldn’t make out.
“I think he said he’s happy to be alive,” Arlo said.
Edgar nodded again.
“You guys are lucky,” Michael said. “We all thought you were dead.”
“How’s Eevi doing?” Arlo asked.
“Not good,” Layla replied. “I should probably get back to the bridge and check on her since Les is at the launch bay.”
“Good idea,” Michael said. “I’ll come.”
“Probably for the best if you stay here, actually,” Layla said. “She hasn’t really wanted to talk to anyone; neither has Sofia.”
“Where is Sofia, by the way?” Michael asked.
“In her quarters, last I heard,” Layla said.
“She also needs time to grieve.”
“I’ll check on her, too,” Layla said. “See ya later, guys.”
Michael watched her go, his heart aching for both Sofia and Eevi. He wouldn’t blame Eevi if she held him responsible for her husband’s death.
Alexander had sacrificed himself so the divers could get into a tunnel. Michael kept replaying those moments in his mind, wondering whether he could have somehow saved him, but even if they had been able to drag Alexander into the tunnel, he had lost too much blood and been exposed to radiation and foreign toxins.
Hell Divers all knew the risks.
His father had known; Trey Mitchells had known; Alexander Corey had known. Dying was often part of the duty to humanity.
Michael sighed and moved over to Arlo. He hadn’t spoken to him or Edgar much since they lifted off.
“Thanks for coming back for us, Commander,” Arlo said. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
“Thank… you,” Edgar mumbled.
“I just wish we could have saved Alexander,” Michael said. “But I’m glad you two are okay. I thought you both were goners.”
“Me, too,” Arlo said. He gripped his stomach. “That nanotech gel is already helping, man. So weird. I can almost feel it working.”
“It better,” Michael said. “We used the last of our supply on you two, and we need you both back in action as soon as possible.”
The lights flickered.
“That’s weird,” Arlo said.
An alarm blared, making him flinch on his bed.
Michael jumped, too. Stepping away from the beds, he looked out through the open doors at a red light swirling on the bridge.
The public address system crackled. “All noncritical personnel are to report to their shelters immediately,” Timothy said. “Everyone else, please report to your stations.”
Michael moved over to the speaker on the bulkhead and pushed the button.
“Timothy, this is Commander Everhart. What the hell is going on?”
“Commander Everhart, we have a hull breach, and a contact has entered the airship.”
Michael’s heart skipped.
The doors to the medical ward whispered open, and the lead militia soldier, Corporal Banks, stepped inside. He had a glistening bald scalp, wide eyes, and a submachine gun in hand.
“It’s… a Siren,” he stammered.
“What the hell do you mean, a Siren?” Rodger asked.
“One of those things is in here?” Arlo said, nearly falling out of his bed as he tried to sit up.
“This can’t be happening,” Rodger said. “Mags, this is a joke, right? You guys are just messing with me, right?”
“This is no joke,” Michael said, his face stern. “Now, calm down and stay here.”
“But—”
“Do it,” Magnolia said.
Michael eyed Banks’s submachine gun.
“You can’t use that on the ship,” Michael said. “Follow me to the armory. We’re going to have to kill this thing with crossbows.”
Michael hurried out of the room with Mags and the militia soldier.
“Wait!” Arlo called after them. “Can you leave that gun here?”
Xavier Rodriguez sat with a pillow propped behind his back. The view through the open windows in his humble quarters was spectacular, even though he could see it with only one eye. A swollen eyelid puffed around his other eye, blocking the view.
Miles sat at the edge of his bed, watching clouds crawl across the blue sky while the warm breeze drifted into the room.
But X couldn’t bring himself to enjoy the sunshine.
A day after holding Rhino in his arms, his mind was as burdened as his broken body. Not only with thoughts of his fallen friend, but also with what happened on the mission to Rio de Janeiro.
Although the mission had been a success in finding survivors, it had come at a grave cost to the Cazadores and to his people.
A rap came on his door, and Lieutenant Sloan walked inside. Chief Engineer Samson was also with her, but he stayed in the hall, coughing into his handkerchief—something he was lately doing more and more.
If X had to guess, the third figure in his blurred vision was Dr. Huff.
“How are you doing, King Xavier?” said the doc’s voice.
X groaned as he tried to sit up straighter. “Like a whale ate me and shat me out into the mouth of a shark,” he said. “Then the shark chewed a while, decided I didn’t taste good, and—”
“We get the point,” Sloan said.
“I need to check your dressings,” Huff said.
“I’m here to help,” said Sloan. “But don’t worry, I’m not giving you a sponge bath.”
Thank the Octopus Lords, X thought.
She moved to the other side of his bed and helped rotate his body slightly while Huff examined his arm. He put on his glasses and bent down to check the freshly closed surgical incision.
Miles turned from the view of the sky to watch the doctor.
“It’s okay, buddy, they’re trying to help me,” X said.
He winced from the burn shooting up and down his limb as Huff rotated it gently and Miles bared his teeth.
“Uh, he’s not going to bite me, is he?” said the doctor.
“If I die, maybe,” X said. “Or if I act like you’re hurting me.”
“You’re not going to die, but this wound doesn’t look too good, and I’m recommending you stay in bed.”
“Can’t you just give me some of that nanotech gel?”
“I sent the rest of our supply with the Hell Divers,” Huff said. “And even if we had it, it wouldn’t help your cracked ribs.”
X glanced down at his body. He had more cuts than he could count and had taken two arrows.
“The trauma you took would have most people down for weeks,” Huff said.
“It would kill most men,” Sloan said.
“True,” Huff replied. “In any case, I am ordering you on bed rest for the foreseeable future.”
“Hell no,” X said. “I’ve got a council meeting in a few minutes.”
“No, you don’t,” Sloan said. “I’ve already informed Imulah you aren’t coming and that we will proceed without you.”
X glared at her. “You did what?”
“Sir, you are in no shape to go to a council meeting.”
Huff stared as if he couldn’t believe that X would consider getting out of bed.
“You may have more than nine lives, but you’re not an immortal,” Sloan said. “You’re a man, and you can die if you don’t take care of yourself.”
X grunted. “I almost died in the wastes a dozen times, and I was way sicker than this for most of them.”
“I don’t care,” Huff said. “Stay in bed if you want to get better.”
“You aren’t listening to me,” X said.
“Fine, you can listen or not, but for now, I need to continue checking your wounds, so please turn over.”
Sloan helped X turn to his side. The movement sent a spike of pain across his cracked ribs. He lowered his arm and checked the stitches now that the bandage was peeled back.