Static crackled over the system, drowning out his voice.
“Timothy,” she said. “Timothy, do you copy?”
“Yes, I’m here, Captain.”
“Listen, Timothy, do you know if X and the others are alive?”
“I’ve translated several conversations from my captors and can tell you that at this moment, X is definitely alive. Apparently, he just achieved a great victory in the Sky Arena.”
“Sky Arena?” Eevi said with brows arched.
Gunshots snapped her attention away from the station. Everyone on the bridge hurried over for a view out the remaining window, to the MK-65 turret, where Alexander fired his assault rifle. She could see his muzzle flashes and the glow of his battery unit, but not what he was firing at. And she couldn’t see Trey.
Eevi let out a scream and pointed at the sky, where a second blue glow seemed to be floating away.
Katrina brought her binoculars up and found the battery unit, attached to Trey, in the talons of a huge bird. A dozen others swooped toward the ship, and into the automatic fire from Alexander as he retreated.
For a second, Katrina stood in the flight-ops command center, watching in horror as the bird flapped away. She thought of Les, and the pain he would feel if she didn’t get his boy back.
Two seconds passed before she snapped to action.
“Grab your weapons!” she ordered. “We’re going after him!”
SEVEN
Magnolia had never seen so much food in her life. She followed Imulah into a room of banquet tables decked in white cloths and gold runners, with old-world china dishes and glass goblets at each setting. Four chandeliers illuminated the bountiful feast being brought in by servants in clean white garments.
They carried all sorts of dishes: bowls overflowing with fruit, platters of meat and of fish, some of them with heads and eyeballs and fins.
The only thing from the ocean she had ever eaten was shark, and she wasn’t eager to try anything that could look back at her. But her stomach did growl at the sight of plates stacked with strips of crispy bacon and hunks of ham coated in a clear glaze.
She had felt sick after the spectacle at the Sky Arena, where she had been forced to watch a dozen other matches after X and Rodger’s bout with the giant.
In one contest, two male warriors were pitted against a woman with dreadlocks down to her lower back. She dispatched the first man quickly with her sword but let the other victim linger. After cutting his Achilles tendon, she straddled him and gouged out his eyeballs with her bare hands. That had the crowd standing, and it almost made Magnolia puke.
But that wasn’t even the worst part. Before Magnolia even had time to look away, the female warrior had sliced off his testicles and held them in the air, letting out a howl like a wolf.
In the sky, life was precious. Every single soul was important. But not here, apparently. On the Metal Islands, fighting and killing were part of daily life. They glorified it. And from what she could see, these people didn’t fear death.
After what she had just witnessed, Magnolia wasn’t so sure she wanted her friends to come rescue her unless they sent a volley of missiles and bombs down first. There was no way the people on the Hive could win a fight against this warrior society.
“Tonight, you sit next to el Pulpo,” Imulah said, gesturing toward a long banquet table at the head of the room. Dozens of chairs were set up along one side, most of them already occupied by el Pulpo’s wives. Two large wingback chairs, both decorated in octopus engravings, remained empty.
“Let me guess: this is my seat,” Magnolia said.
Imulah nodded politely. “Go ahead and have something to drink while we wait.”
Magnolia pulled the chair back from the table, drawing the attention of the other nine women. Sofia and Inge sat across from her, watching her every move as if she was a potential enemy, sizing her up with their youthful eyes. But they weren’t the only ones.
An older woman with braided dark hair narrowed her gaze and stared at Magnolia. She licked her lips and clacked sharp teeth together as Magnolia sat down.
Why the hell would any of them ever want to sit where she was sitting? There was no way they actually loved el Pulpo, or even liked him.
Right?
Magnolia took a goblet and drank. The fruity liquid was surprisingly good. She set the glass down as helmetless Cazador soldiers in body armor filed into the room.
Next came a group of men wearing immaculate gray or dark-blue suits similar to the old-world suit that Timothy Pepper wore. Two of the men had slicked-back hair and neatly trimmed beards. One wore eyeglasses and carried a clipboard under his arm. It was the same guy she remembered at the dock when she arrived. He had stood there writing with a pencil, glancing up over his spectacles every few strokes as he tallied supplies and boats, or people, or whatever the hell he was doing.
The other men were bald and freshly shaved. She picked up voices in Spanish, English, and a language she didn’t recognize. They all took their seats, but no one ate. Apparently, these people did have manners, after all.
Unable to resist, she finally took a piece of bacon and crunched it down, again drawing the attention of the wives. Inge clicked her tongue and looked away in disgust. Sofia cracked an amused half smile.
Magnolia shrugged and kept eating.
Servants continued bringing in more food and filling up glasses with the berry-colored liquid. The chandeliers were dimmed as a man brought in a torch and lit the sconces on the walls. An orange flicker of flames danced across the bulkheads.
Magnolia twisted in her chair to look out the porthole windows behind her. The glass provided a view to a jeweled sky, the most beautiful she had ever seen.
A shooting star ripped through the darkness.
For a moment, she felt a hint of joy. But she suppressed it, not allowing herself to feel anything but anger. To buy into the pomp and pageantry was to betray her friends. Also, it was dangerous to let her guard down. She had to stay sharp and ready to seize the moment if the opportunity to escape should appear.
She turned back to the table just as a loud chanting began. The soldiers all stood and beat their chests as el Pulpo ducked through an open doorway and entered the room, with a smug grin on his scarred face. His eye roved from face to face until it locked on her, and his grin widened.
A dark-skinned warrior, one of the most massive men Magnolia had ever seen, followed the king into the room. The soldier held a chain with Miles tethered at the other end.
The dog trotted after his handler, head down, tail between his legs.
Everyone stood to greet King Pulpo, but Magnolia remained in her seat and took another drink. She wiped her mouth with her forearm and set the glass back down.
“Now is when you stand,” said Imulah. He walked over and leaned down, whispering in her ear. “You’d better start showing some respect, or you will end up with a back worse than Sofia’s.”
Recalling the crosshatched scars hidden beneath the young woman’s long hair, she finally did as he instructed.
El Pulpo made his way across the room wearing light armor—only plates on his forearms and shins. An open red silk shirt showed off his burly chest and a long seashell necklace. The strip of hair above the octopus tattoo on his forehead was slicked back with some sort of grease.
The warrior accompanying the king yanked Miles toward the table and made him sit beside the chair reserved for el Pulpo. The dog obeyed, going down on his haunches.
“It’s okay, boy,” Magnolia said.