The next two rooms were bathrooms, and aft of these, a maintenance room and storage closet, where they stockpiled their extra rations and medical supplies.
He climbed the ladder to the second cabin, which they had transformed into a staging area for future missions. Racks of weapons were bolted to the bulkhead on his right. Brand-new submachine guns, a speargun, and even fishing rods were stocked and secured throughout the room. Crates bolted to the deck contained scuba gear, life jackets, and buoys.
X made his way over to the crate containing his suit, armor, and helmet. The metal gleamed in the overhead light, but the polishing did little to obscure the scratches, dents, and other abuse inflicted during his decade on the surface.
After throwing on his new suit, he donned the trusty old armor. Back on the Hive, when Michael Everhart had asked him whether he wanted new gear, X had declined. Why give up something that had saved your life countless times? The gear was old, sure, but he had made modifications to his helmet and battery unit that made it more useful than ever before.
He secured the helmet, clicking it into place, and made his way to the rack of weapons, opting for an automatic rifle with a grenade launcher attachment. He left the bandolier of grenades on the rack, slung the gun over his shoulder, and spun the wheel handle to open the hatch to the weather deck.
Gusting wind peppered his suit with rain. He fought his way out onto the seventy-foot-long deck using the glow from lightning flashes. A fork speared through the sky and into a wave. The glow lit up the stern. X examined his handiwork. Two strands of razor wire were looped around the rails to dissuade any mutant beasts lurking in the seas from coming aboard.
Three spearguns were mounted on the deck, in slots retrofitted from fishing-pole mounts. X had welded them on himself, taking a lesson from the Cazadores, who had mounted such weapons on their ships.
In the center of the deck stood a twenty-foot mast with a crow’s nest at the top. There was a second mast in the stern, but neither had sails up right now, and they weren’t extended to full length, to present less of a target for lightning.
Chinning his comm pad, he opened the channel to the command center.
“Mags, you copy?”
“Copy that.”
“I’m on deck and heading to the engine compartment.”
“Please try to keep water out of the compartment, mate,” Timothy said.
X chuckled in spite of himself. “Let’s lay off the ‘mate,’ okay?”
“Okay… X.”
“Please be careful, X,” Magnolia added. There was trepidation in her voice. Not that he blamed her for being nervous at this point—she was sick as a dog, and he was starting to think she regretted coming along.
X uncoiled a rope from the bulkhead outside the hatch and looped it through two carabiners. He tested the hitch before setting out across the slick deck, keeping his eye on the silhouette of a Siberian husky painted on the deck not far from the mast. The name Sea Wolf was painted on the rectangular hatch that opened into the guts of the boat.
That was his objective. The sails were stored inside the compartment, close to the engine and battery units. The only access was from the hatch he was walking toward.
Battling the fierce winds, he slowly made his way forward. Beneath his boots, the entire boat rattled from the booming thunder. A wave slammed into the starboard side, sending a cascade of water over his armor. The shower didn’t bother him, but he did fear taking a bath in the ocean.
He made cautious progress, pulling on the rope for slack on his way to the hatch. Bending down, he grabbed the handle and prepared to open it when the vessel crested a wave. X braced for impact.
The boat continued rising, then crashed back down with enough force to knock X off his feet. Water came over the side, hitting him with the force of a hurtling Siren. He scrambled back to the hatch and wiped his visor with a gloved hand.
“Be advised, I’m picking up a heavy electrical disturbance about two knots southwest,” Timothy said.
“You picked a crappy time to go topside,” Magnolia stuttered over the comm channel.
“Just keep us steady, Pepper,” X said. He reached out for something to hold on to, but the only other thing to grab was the mast, which wouldn’t do him any good. Clinging to the hatch, he prepared for the next wave.
He couldn’t see over the cabin forming the bow of the boat and had no idea when it would hit. The vessel climbed again, engines purring beneath the deck, straining against the rough water.
“X, I highly recommend you come back inside before—”
X cut Timothy off. “And I’d highly advise you not give me orders, Pepper.”
The boat rose onto a wave, and X gripped the handle tighter, gritted his teeth, and waited. This time, the bow slapped back down so hard, water broke over the top of the cabin. He looked up through the spray as lightning slashed the sky, illuminating a wall of waves in front of them.
“Magnolia, take over for Timothy,” he ordered.
“But…”
“Do it, Mags. I trust you over him. No offense, Pepper.”
“None taken, sir,” Timothy replied.
Still clinging to the handle, X looked over his shoulder at the hatch leading back into the boat. It wasn’t even twenty feet away, but he couldn’t risk getting flung over the side, not even with the rope hitched to his armor.
“X, you should follow Timothy’s suggestion and get back inside,” Magnolia said.
“That’s a negative, Mags. I’m going inside the battery room.”
Static crackled over the channel with her reply. “Okay, but do it soon.”
X prepared to open the hatch and climb inside. He couldn’t risk flooding the compartment. While he waited for the right moment, his eyes darted to the razor wire on the rails. He had looped the wire there to protect them from sea creatures, but if he should get caught in it…
The boat rose up on a wave again, lifting X to a fleeting view of the ocean in all directions. Miles of dark, churning water surrounded the tiny boat. In the wake of a lightning flash, he thought he saw something moving in the murk.
Slapping back down, the vessel creaked from the impact. Although he had braced himself, the force still rattled his bones.
He shook off the shock.
Magnolia continued bringing the boat about, but the damage was already done. A sensor beeped over the comm system, and X didn’t need to hear her frantic report to know the Sea Wolf had taken damage.
“We’ve got a crack in the right hull,” she said. “Sealing it off.”
A clanking sounded, and he looked up as the sail mast began to extend, the three-piece pole rising toward the storm clouds.
“What the hell is happening!” X shouted. “The mast is raising!”
“Must have malfunctioned,” Magnolia quickly replied. “I can’t stop it.”
X looked back down at the hatch. He had to get inside before the mast took a lightning bolt and fried him where he stood. He spent the next few seconds timing the waves and waiting for his opportunity to climb inside.
“X, I’m picking something up on…”
The rest of her transmission cut off. He clicked the handle left and pulled the hatch open. With seconds to spare, he unclipped his tether and turned to climb inside, when his peripheral vision caught a darting movement over the port gunwale.
In the split second it took his mind to process what he was seeing, a thick sucker-covered arm the size of a tree trunk slapped the deck and quickly slithered back over the railing, taking a coil of razor wire with it.