“Let’s go,” X said to Rhino. “I want to get out on the water before we lose the sun.”
Rhino pushed open the double doors to a long room with high ceilings and the platform where el Pulpo had once held court.
Miles trotted ahead of X and up the stairs to the platform, where he sat in front of the throne. The dog knew where he wanted to be.
The rest of the council filed down an aisle past a wooden bench where three scribes sat waiting to record the meeting. A pleasant smell of freshly hewn wood was almost as potent as that of the fruit trees on the sun deck above.
“Again, got to say I’m impressed,” Magnolia said quietly.
Rodger smiled proudly. “I must confess, my dad did most of the finish work on the table while I helped Samson prepare the rig to receive the Hive.”
The chief engineer sat at the table now, using a handkerchief to mop the sweat from his forehead. Along with Magnolia, Les, and X, he was one of the four sky people on the eight-person council.
They all sat but X, who remained standing on the throne platform.
Colonel Carmela Moreto, a fifty-year-old Cazador warrior, sat across from Magnolia, next to an even older soldier, General Diego Santiago. After the battle, both had kept their rank by swearing loyalty to X and promising to help avoid more bloodshed.
Magnolia didn’t trust Santiago. She scrutinized him as she walked to her seat. A thick white beard clung to his lantern jaw but failed to mask the scar carving a diagonal line across his weathered face.
She didn’t trust Carmela, either. The older woman wore a turquoise necklace and copper wrist guards engraved with sharks. The feathers of the cockatoo on her shoulder matched her braided white hair. The annoying bird kept cackling and looking at Magnolia.
“Shhhhh,” Carmela said. “¡Silencio, Kotchee!”
The cockatoo stopped squawking but continued eyeing Magnolia with eyes as black as coal.
I fucking hate birds.
Magnolia wasn’t the only one. Miles didn’t seem to like Kotchee, either, probably seeing it as a miniature version of the vultures that nearly killed him at the Turks and Caicos Islands.
On the platform, X had pulled out a tablet from his backpack and was tapping the screen. “Piece of shit,” he grumbled.
The glow from Timothy Pepper’s hologram spread across the dimly lit room.
“There we go,” X said.
Several latecomers came through the open doors as the AI walked onto the platform. A group of six merchants entered, all of them men, and all of them dressed in silly finery. They took off their sailor hats, revealing lighter skin than most Cazadores, who worked in the sun as laborers or warriors. These men lived a life of ease in the shade.
Their leader, Tomás Mata, maybe fifty years old, with a full head of wheat-colored hair, walked down the aisle while the other merchants took seats in the gallery. With his own fleet of trawlers, the wealthy businessman owned a chunk of the most profitable business aside from war: fishing.
A group of Hell Divers, including the new Cazador recruits, took seats in the gallery. Two more Cazadores followed—officers, with their black capes and shiny swords. Armored soldiers with red capes, the symbol of the legendary Praetorian Guard, accompanied the two men.
Magnolia recognized them as they walked down the center aisle. Colonel Ken Forge and Colonel Pablo Vargas were both part of the infamous Black Order of Octopus Lords, which had served under el Pulpo.
The order also included General Santiago, General Rhino, and Colonel Moreto. Everyone else above the rank of lieutenant had been killed in the battle for the Metal Islands, except for one Cazador colonel who had refused to acknowledge X as the rightful ruler. Rhino had executed the man two days after the battle ended, tossing his body to the order’s monstrous namesakes that lurked in the depths.
General Rhino continued to prove his loyalty to King Xavier and played a vital role in keeping any underground rebellions from getting traction. But it was hard to believe that somewhere among the twenty-one rigs plus the outposts, Cazadores weren’t planning an attack.
Hell, the militia had had a difficult enough time putting out rebellions on the Hive. Magnolia wasn’t sure how they could ever stop one here.
The double doors clanked shut, and X cleared his throat.
“For those of you who don’t know, this is our AI, Timothy,” he said.
The Cazadores all looked skeptically at the hologram. They had done their best to run the islands with as little technology from the former world as possible, even radios, and had certainly never dealt with an AI.
“I’m at the council’s—and your—disposal, King Xavier,” Timothy said.
X sighed loud enough that Magnolia heard it. He clearly hated the title, and she found it a little corny, but according to Imulah, the Cazador tradition had to continue.
“Tomás is first on the agenda,” X said.
The merchant stood and bowed slightly. He spoke nearly perfect English. “I’m pleased to announce this was a very good week for fishing. Even with our devastated fleet, we should have an adequate supply to feed our new friends.”
“And the farms?” the king asked.
Another merchant stood up in the gallery. He was bald, with a gray beard, and spoke Spanish.
“He says we need rain,” Imulah said. “Or we will have to start using recycled drinking water on the crops.”
“Then we shall hope for rain,” X said. He looked down at General Santiago and gestured for the old warrior to speak.
Santiago spoke quickly in his deep, gruff voice while Imulah translated as fast as he could.
“General Santiago requests the Sky Arena be opened immediately,” he said. “Our people thirst for blood, and they are growing impatient with these new laws.”
“These new laws are meant to keep humanity alive,” Magnolia reminded the old general. “We all have suffered great losses, and reopening the Sky Arena would reduce our numbers even more.”
Imulah explained her words to Santiago, who glared back at her. He clearly didn’t appreciate the opinion of any woman on the council who wasn’t Carmela.
That was fine. Magnolia didn’t appreciate sitting on a council with a man who had served in the army of a sadistic cannibal.
“You kill each other so often, it’s amazing there are any of you left,” Samson said to back up Magnolia.
“Perhaps there is a way to have fighting that does not result in death,” Les added.
Santiago’s gaze flitted to the tall, fair captain as Imulah continued to translate.
“Would you consider fights that do not end in the taking of life?” X asked. “I really don’t have a problem if you want to beat each other silly, but cutting off heads and dismembering one another seems a bit counterproductive at this point.”
“That would go against our customs,” Imulah said, answering for Santiago.
“The fight is always to the death,” Rhino added.
“Maybe it’s time to end your barbaric tradition,” Sofia said from the gallery. “Like eating people. We’ve stopped that. Don’t forget where you came from, now that we’re free.”
Rhino clenched his jaw but did not respond. He was having a harder time than Sofia in letting go of the warrior mentality learned over a lifetime of fighting.
When Imulah explained what the other Cazadores had said, the old general snorted, making his nose ring quiver. He stood up from his chair and spoke, looking at X.
Carmela also joined in, and her bird made a clucking sound that so grated on Magnolia’s nerves, she considered taking out a blade and cutting the damn thing’s head off.