Sitting in a wingback chair at a table amidships was el Pulpo. Miles sat on his haunches, the collar’s reversed spikes digging into his fur and skin. He let out a whine at Magnolia but did not get up to greet her.
El Pulpo did, though, spreading his muscular arms in welcome.
“¿Te gusta?” he asked.
She wanted to spit on the image painted on the deck but thought better of it. The king walked over and grabbed a lock of her short hair, leaning down to sniff it. Then he kissed her cheek and led her over to the table, where he pulled out a chair.
Imulah followed them over and stood with his hands cupped behind his back while the other two soldiers took up spots near the railing festooned in barbed wire, their rifles cradled across their tattooed chests.
Instead of sitting back down, el Pulpo turned to look at the oil rig. He wore the same open-faced red silk shirt and shell-whistle necklace from the banquet. Plates of armor covered his forearms and shins. A gold hoop hung between his nostrils, and the strip of hair on his head was spiked up over the octopus tattoo.
He said a few words in Spanish to Imulah and finally took his seat across from Magnolia.
“Our king knows how difficult this journey has been for you,” Imulah said. “He understands how much you love the sky gods. For that reason, he has decided to let them live here if they come. It is a great honor.”
Magnolia’s gut clenched at the words. An honor?
“Your friend Rodger has already accepted his fate. He has volunteered his skills as a woodsmith to help build new homes for your people on the tower the Immortal tried to destroy.”
“What?” Magnolia choked out. She abandoned her chair and stepped to the rail, to scan the construction crews on the oil rig. It took her only a moment to spot Rodger’s thin frame and bearded face among the muscular workers. He was looking out at the boat when a Cazador soldier flicked a whip against his back.
“No,” she whispered. “No, this can’t be real…”
Imulah joined her at the rail. “Be happy that el Pulpo has decided to let your people live if they come here,” he said. “You can ensure they don’t die, by marrying him. I think this is a very generous offer, considering what your people have already done to offend the Octopus Lord. Letting them live out their lives here is a gift.”
He jerked his goatee at the oil rig.
“In chains?” she said with a snort. “I give myself to him, and my people get to live in a prison?”
“It’s better than death. Trust me. I know this.”
She turned toward the old scribe, her lip curled in a snarl. She was sick of his fake empathy, sick of his words. He was just as bad as his bosses.
A tear ran down her face, but she wiped it away. Then she looked at the dinner table, where two covered plates were set out. She wasn’t interested in the food; she was looking for a knife, a fork, or even a spoon to pluck out el Pulpo’s other eye.
He followed her gaze, smiled, and gestured for her to sit.
“Choose wisely,” Imulah murmured.
She considered her options. Die right now, right here, or marry the octopus king and give her body to him while Rodger and the other slaves built a prison for her people to live out their lives.
Her heart sank at the prospect of what she had never thought she would wish for: that the airships would stay away and her friends would continue living in the skies.
Just as Katrina had suspected, the Cazador container ship slowed, and the fishing vessel turned around to look for the missing WaveRunner scouts. She had watched them from the crow’s nest of the USS Zion while coming up with a plan to ambush the two vessels—a plan that required getting very close. Fortunately, the enemy ship’s long, slow turning radius gave her some time.
She loaded an EMP grenade into the launcher mounted on the bottom of her rifle. Shutting down the enemy’s electronics so they couldn’t transmit any messages to the Metal Islands was her first objective. But to do it, she must get within hailing distance, which meant leaving the relative safety of the USS Zion.
So far, Eevi hadn’t detected anything over the radio channels. They weren’t even sure the Cazadores used radio, but Katrina wasn’t taking any chances.
“Won’t that thing fry our systems, too?” Trey asked as they prepared to board the Zodiac.
“The USS Zion is EMP resistant,” she said, “but the Zodiac isn’t. That’s why we have those.”
Trey looked down at the three paddles in the bottom of the boat, grinned, and put his helmet on. Then he palmed a magazine into his rifle and slung it over his back. Alexander dropped the rope ladder down to the Zodiac.
A few minutes later, the fire team boarded the inflatable craft and sped away from the stealth warship, leaving it in the hands of Eevi, Sandy, Edgar, and the Abhaya brothers.
The plan was simple: lure the Cazador ship and fishing boat into the bay, where the USS Zion waited. Katrina would take the Zodiac to flank the enemy vessels and then use the EMP grenades to fry their electronics.
Alexander twisted the throttle, and the Zodiac surged forward. Pushing around the north side of the island, they took the waves at an angle off the port bow, rocking sideways over them instead of meeting them head-on. The Cazador ship was coming in from the south.
Katrina kept her rifle at the ready as they started around the northern shore. A bright river of lava cascaded into the ocean ahead, raising a cloud of steam off the water.
“Give it a wide berth,” Katrina said.
Alexander turned the boat, arcing around the glow. As soon as they cleared the lava flow, he gunned the engine and steered them closer to the eastern shoreline of black volcanic rock.
Katrina pulled out her night-vision binoculars. The Cazador ship had almost completed its 180-degree turn, and it and the trawler stopped about a half mile from the southern peninsula.
“Slow down,” she said.
Alexander eased off the throttle, and they coasted, rocking side to side while she scanned the ship and the trawler. There could be only one reason to stop: because they had spotted the USS Zion.
Just as Katrina planned, the container ship’s davits were lowering dozens of smaller boats and WaveRunners over the side, and at least fifty Cazador soldiers were waiting to climb down ladders and board the rides.
“Oh, shit,” Katrina whispered when she saw several soldiers carrying shoulder-fired rocket launchers. The USS Zion had thick armor, but it wasn’t invincible. She wasn’t sure how many direct hits the ship could take.
No matter, they won’t get the chance…
She didn’t open the channel to Eevi, because Eevi was seeing the same thing they were, which meant the machine guns on the Zion’s deck were lining up on the enemy boats.
“Let’s go,” she said to Alexander. He hesitated, and she raised her voice. “Punch it!”
The Zodiac surged forward across the rough waters, hugging the shore for concealment. She brought the EMP-loaded rifle up to her shoulder. She would get only three shots at this.
Cazador soldiers climbed down the ladders to their vessels, and a few WaveRunners zipped away. If any of the riders were wearing night vision, it wouldn’t be long before they spotted the Zodiac moving against the dark backdrop of the island. Or an inopportune lightning flash could give them away.
Katrina suddenly felt completely exposed as they rounded the peninsula and shot out into open water.
Trey moved up to the bow with her, holding the laser rifle.