I leave a second banana on the table and let Adam get back to work. I cut across the airstrip, heading to where Marina sits cross-legged in the grass, facing the Sanctuary. I’m not sure if she’s meditating or praying or what, but she was in that spot when I woke up this morning and hasn’t moved in the time that I’ve been out scrounging the jungle for food.

I’d like to think it’s an accident that my route to Marina takes me by the Skimmer strut where Phiri Dun-Ra is tied, but I know it’s not. We’ve got her tied up securely in the middle of camp and have all been keeping an eye on her. I want the Mogadorian to say something, to give me an excuse. She doesn’t disappoint.

“He’s going to fail, you know.”

“Did you say something?” I ask, stopping and turning slowly to face her. I heard Phiri Dun-Ra perfectly.

Our Mogadorian prisoner smiles gruesomely at me, her teeth outlined with dried blood. Her right eye is swollen shut. I did that to her last night. After learning about the Mogadorian invasion, I got real tired real quick of her incessant cackling. So, I clocked her. Not my proudest moment, punching out a tied-up Mogadorian, but it felt good. In truth, I probably would’ve done more if Marina hadn’t dragged me away. As I stare at Phiri Dun-Ra, her good eye narrows in amusement. My fist clenches again. I want to hit something. All I need is a reason.

“You heard me, little girl,” she replies, jerking her chin towards Adam. Phiri Dun-Ra projects her voice enough that I’m sure he can hear, too. “Adamus Sutekh will fail, as he always does. You see, I have known him much longer than you. I know what a perpetual disappointment he was to his father. To our people. It’s no wonder he turned traitor.”

I glance over my shoulder at Adam. He’s pretending not to hear Phiri Dun-Ra, but his hands have stopped working and his shoulders are bunched up.

“You want to get knocked out again?” I ask Phiri Dun-Ra, taking a step towards her.

She looks thoughtful for a moment, then continues on. “Although, hmm . . . something only now occurs to me. I remember hearing of young Adamus’s technical prowess. He was something of a prodigy with machines as a young trueborn. It is odd, then, that he’s been unable to fix one of these ships, especially with all that equipment at his disposal.”

I glance again at Adam. He’s turned now, a confused expression on his face, staring at Phiri Dun-Ra.