King of the Wastes by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

Author:Nicholas Sansbury Smith
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Published: 2021-08-16T16:03:52+00:00

Seventeen

X stepped up to the council chamber doors, stooping slightly as he banged them open with his palm. In the past, Ton and Victor might have thought he was drunk, but today he just had a headache.

He had plenty on his mind: determining what to do with the ITC Ranger, establishing a route through the Panama Canal, and rebuilding after the hurricane that had ravaged the islands. Construction was underway to restore the rigs, but losses continued to mount. To rebuild, they must return to the wastes, to salvage metal and parts. There was also the lost oil—almost as bad as losing the crops.

He had slept only a few hours since the storm abated, and his body seemed sluggish.

Timothy was still aboard the ITC Ranger, there to purge the AI of Tyron Red, the creator of Industrial Tech Corporation and the machines that ended the world.

The purge made X nervous, but Captain Two Skulls had clear orders to destroy the carrier if Timothy failed.

Cazador demolition teams had already boarded the vessel to plant charges in strategic locations. It would take but a single radio transmission for X to order the supercarrier’s destruction.

Maybe he was making a mistake by not destroying it now, but his gut rarely led him astray, and it told him Timothy was right about the Tyron Red AI not being a threat. On top of that, Ranger’s remaining weapons systems were offline and hence posed no threat to the islands.

With oil suddenly scarce, they needed that supercarrier’s nuclear-

powered engines in the supply chain. Hell, even if they kept it at the islands, they could turn that vast flight deck into a floating farm.

“Ready, sir?” Victor asked.

X nodded, and the guards pushed open the doors.

Miles nudged in front of him into the vaulted room, where everyone rose to their feet. He took his place at the foot of the throne while X walked down the ceremonial carpet with his two guards.

Fifty men and women greeted him with nods or salutes from their various cultures. Representatives from all those cultures were here today, gathered for the special meeting that X had called.

Cazador soldiers stood in the pews, dressed in their ceremonial armor. Some, like Slayer and Bromista, bore fresh wounds from the storms.

Merchants in their fancy threads and feathered hats filled the middle rows. Their interests were represented by a new council member, Martino Lupe, a husky Cazador merchant who owned half the fishing fleet, a brothel, and a salvaging operation.

Unlike his comrades, he didn’t wear a feathered hat over his bald dome, preferring to accessorize his gold-buttoned tunic with a walking stick that had a ruby in the hilt.

Near the front, Hell Divers in their red coveralls stood at attention.

Sky people, including those from Kilimanjaro, sat intermixed. Refugees rescued from around the world were here, too. Pedro Gonçalvez and Cecilia Peres, from Rio de Janeiro, wore gray uniforms. The sky people from Kilimanjaro, represented by Captains Rolo and Linda Fina, wore bright-blue uniforms. The two airship captains sat

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