“We’re fine, Taylor,” Caleb cut in. “All six of us are fine.”
Six of them. So they’d stuck together. The Academy crew and Einar’s psychos.
“Not that I don’t want to hear about Taylor’s love life,” Nine said. “But where the hell are you?”
“Uh, probably better we don’t say,” Caleb replied. “In case someone is monitoring the call. But we saw the news, saw what’s happening there and thought we should call, see if you need any help.”
“Is the news wrong?” Isabela asked. “You don’t sound brainwashed.”
“So far it’s all bark and no bite,” Nine said.
“It’s only students and some faculty left on campus,” Taylor added. “There are basically no classes. You’d love it, Isabela.”
“My dream!”
“We can come back,” Caleb said firmly. “We should come back. Help you fight.”
“Probably not the best idea,” Nine said. “Hopefully, this all blows over. But if the shit hits the fan, I feel better knowing you guys are out there.”
“To save you, you mean,” Isabela said.
“I never need saving,” Nine replied.
Someone in the background laughed.
“Also, John Smith just showed up out of nowhere,” Taylor added. “Maybe to help, maybe to just get in the way. Don’t mind Nine. He’s feeling a little insecure.”
Isabela made a cooing sound. “Is he as hot as on TV?”
“He needs to shave,” Taylor replied.
“I’m glad you guys checked in,” Nine said. “If we weren’t stuck on campus, I’d go smash down some doors myself, but since I can’t, you’ll have to do it for me. We’re pretty sure that Earth Garde has already scooped up some people, like Six and Malcolm’s son, Sam.”
“The one who can talk to machines,” Caleb said.
“Figures that a guy with his Legacy would disappear the day before they announce we’re all getting chips in our heads,” Taylor said.
“They might have been working for Earth Garde, but there’s no way Six and Sam would go along with this mess. Greger all but told Malcolm that he’s got them in custody somewhere. Probably wherever they’re holding the Garde who won’t cooperate,” Nine continued. “Not that we here at the Human Garde Academy are telling you to break any laws or spring anyone from a secret government prison. But we’re also not not telling you to do that.”
“Uh, hold on a second,” Caleb said, and then must have hit the mute button because all sound cut out from their end. Nine looked at Taylor, then muted their line as well.
“As someone not known for his impulse control, let me ask you,” Nine said, “involving them is a good idea, right? We aren’t going to make things worse letting that Einar nutjob and my old buddy Five do work for us?”
Taylor thought about the unique group of personalities on the other side of this phone call. “The fact that they haven’t killed each other yet or made the news for blowing something up is an encouraging sign. Besides, we need someone out there doing what we can’t.”
Caleb came back on the line. “So, it turns out we might already be looking for this secret prison or, anyway, a place where the Foundation is holding dangerous Garde.”
Taylor raised an eyebrow. “You are?”
“Well, we haven’t made much progress so far—”
“Don’t tell them that,” someone—definitely Einar—snapped in the background.
“But if we get any leads or if we find Six and Sam, we will definitely try to rescue them,” Caleb said. “I mean, obviously.”
“Very reassuring,” Nine said dryly.
“Hold on a second,” Caleb said. “Ran wants to talk to you.”
The connection jostled as it passed between hands and then the speaker function clicked off so that Ran’s gentle voice came through much clearer.
“Hello, Taylor, Professor Nine,” Ran said. “Is Nigel there with you?”
Nine fidgeted with the joint on one of his mechanical knuckles, then used his telekinesis to float the phone closer to Taylor. Clearly, he didn’t want to field this one.
“Hey, Ran,” Taylor said. “He’s not with us right this second. Last time I saw him, he was headed under the training center to . . . to . . .” To pointlessly interrogate his evil mother? Taylor didn’t know how to phrase that, so she just trailed off. “Do you want me to get him for you?”
Ran hesitated. “No. That’s okay. Please tell him that I called and I’m thinking about him.”
“I’ll do that,” Taylor replied.
“That’s all—” Ran started to say, but it sounded like someone yanked the phone out of her hand. A gruff voice came on.
“You there, Nine?”
Nine’s expression darkened. “What do you want, Five?”
“Just wanted to say that I’m looking forward to saving your Academy because you’re such a loser and can’t do it yourself. Later, bitch.”
And the line went dead. Taylor snatched the phone away before Nine could punch it out of the air.
“Very mature,” she said.
“That dude should’ve stayed soaking in an ooze puddle,” Nine replied.
With the phone in hand, Taylor abruptly thought of calling her dad. She’d considered that often during the last couple of weeks. Taylor kept telling herself that she didn’t call because she didn’t want to worry him, but that couldn’t really be true—her dad was obviously already worried. What would she tell him, though? He’d supported their crazy plan to infiltrate the Foundation, which involved destroying their family farm. That had gotten Taylor welcomed back into the secret organization, but it hadn’t helped bring them down. In fact, the situation was worse than ever. How could she tell him that it was all for nothing? She dreaded that conversation, so she kept putting it off.
Taylor gave the phone back to Nine. “Do you think our families are safe?” she asked. “What’s going to happen to them if we don’t do what Earth Garde wants?”
Nine paused, breathing out through his nose. “Man. I always forget that you guys have families and shit.”
“That’s real nice, Nine.”
“No, I mean, it almost made it easier for us OGs. We didn’t have anyone to tie us down when we were on the run. Well . . . some of us didn’t, anyway.” Nine shook his head, getting out of his memories. “I doubt they’ll do anything to your families. So far, they’ve been all about public relations, right? How would that look if they started threatening parents? No. Right now, they want to look like the sane, law-abiding ones.”
“I hope you’re right,” Taylor replied.
As the two of them lapsed into silence, John left a group of students telekinetically piling up desks and walked up the path to join them. Taylor was glad to see him pitching in, even if it was clear John had ulterior motives for showing up at the Academy. She glanced at the sky, half expecting to see a Mogadorian warship looming above them.
“Kind of reminds you of the old days, doesn’t it?” John said to Nine as he stopped in front of them. “Scrapping together whatever we could, making it work . . .”
“In the old days, we would just go on the run,” Nine said.
John hesitated. “That’s an option, you know. If this escalates any further, we could . . .”
“Run off to India with you?” Taylor asked, her eyebrows raised. “Are you kidding?”
“I know you’d be giving up a lot,” John said cautiously. “But if I can make New Lorien safe . . .”
“If we did that, we’d be back to zero,” Nine replied. “No life. On the run, fugitives, looking over our shoulders. You remember what that was like?”
“Of course.”
Nine gazed out at the students, many of them taking a break now, passing around jugs of water. “And you want that for all of them?” He didn’t let John answer. “No. I know you don’t.”
“We want this Earth Garde thing to work,” Taylor added. “But we have to show them that we aren’t their property. We should have a
say in how things are run, who our instructors are, whether or not we get Inhibitors.”
John nodded. “Well, I’m going to visit the Peacekeeper encampment to let them know when and where the Osiris is landing,” John said. “Maybe you’d like to come.”
It took Taylor a beat to realize that John was talking to her and not Nine. “What? Me?”
John shrugged. “The Academy should have a representative, don’t you think? Seems like you could speak for the other students here.”
Taylor didn’t know what to say. Luckily, Nine was there to fill the silence.
“So you’re just going to walk over to the Peacekeepers and tell them that there’s a Mogadorian warship planning to land up the coast tomorrow,” Nine said flatly. “That’s your plan.”
As he spoke, Nine walked over so that he stood beside John instead of across from him. This let the two of them avoid eye contact and instead gaze out across the campus. Taylor assumed this was some kind of passive-aggressive guy ritual.
“Earth Garde should be happy to see the last of the Mogadorians brought to justice,” John said. “And I’m going to tell them that I negotiated their surrender with the help of some students from the Academy.”
“But we didn’t have shit to do with this,” Nine replied.
“Didn’t you?” John responded. He smiled at Taylor. “You heard Vontezza’s broadcast while working for the Foundation and reported it to Nine. He got me involved because—well, because I can fly in space?”
“That’s a lie, though,” Taylor said.
“A harmless one,” John replied. “Anyway, it could make for some good PR for the Academy, which it seems like you guys could really use at the moment.” John hesitated for a moment, a tic that Taylor knew meant he was going to say something that Nine wouldn’t like. “I could also bring a couple of your students with me tomorrow. Might make for a good learning experience.”
Taylor snorted. So there it was. The ask. Nine had mentioned that John was up early that morning looking through the school’s roster. He needed help.
Nine came to the same conclusion, his tone brusque. “You want to use some of my kids, stop dicking around and just ask, bro.”
John grimaced. “The force field generator is a big piece of equipment. I could use a hand with it, especially with the Mogs and Earth Garde around. Kopano’s ability to phase through matter would be helpful.”
“Can’t you just copy it?” Nine asked.
“Yeah, but I can’t be everywhere at once,” John said. “I’ve only got one set of hands.”
Taylor almost said something. She didn’t want Kopano off campus right now. But he would be so excited to go on a mission with John, she couldn’t bring herself to speak up. And besides, she was still considering her own offer from John that would put her face-to-face with representatives from Earth Garde. What would she say? What would the students here want her to say?
“And also there’s this guy Miki with strong telekinesis and wind transformation,” John continued. “He’d make transporting the generator easier.”
“Miki’s in a timeout right now on account of being a scummy little spy,” Nine replied. Then, he shrugged. “But if you need him, go ahead and take him. Just be aware, he might try to run off or otherwise screw you over.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” John said. “So, yeah, that’s my favor.”
“It’ll be up to Kopano and Miki if they want to help you,” Nine said. “But I don’t have a problem with it.”
John nodded. “Thanks. You said the head of the UN Peacekeepers here is Ray Archibald?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you make of him?”
“Military guy. Kind of a dick. You know the type. A little bit like our old buddy Lawson.”
“Good enough.” John glanced at Taylor. “That’s who we’ll talk to.”
“You’ll probably find him out by your crash site, holding down a perimeter around the wreck. Malcolm went out there last night to let them know there aren’t any Mogadorians invading. Didn’t want to give them any excuse to rush onto campus. He told them it was you.”
“Then they’ll be expecting me.”
“Yeah. Maybe you can get a chip drilled into your head while you’re there.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“No,” Nine agreed. “I guess Greger hasn’t gotten to ‘S’ in the alphabet yet.”
“Anything you want us tell him, Nine?” John asked.
Taylor’s lips screwed up for a moment. Even though her mind was racing as she rehearsed possible conversations with the Earth Garde bosses, she hadn’t missed John twice assuming that she was coming with him. She started to say something, but then snapped her mouth shut. Why act like she’d pass up this opportunity to shout at some powerful jerks? It was turning out to be her favorite pastime.
“Well, when you’re over with Archibald, you could let him know that jamming Inhibitors into the brains of my students is a really terrible idea,” Nine said with a look at Taylor.
“Definitely,” she agreed.
“Also, please inform Greger Karlsson that I’m going to knock his teeth out.”
“I thought sitting behind a desk would’ve stopped you from talking that way,” John said with a smirk. Nine didn’t seem amused.
“We’ll tell them,” Taylor inserted. “Maybe I’ll filter your message a bit. But I’ll tell them.”
“And probably don’t mention Vontezza,” Nine added.
“Obviously,” John said with a sigh. “Anything else?”
“Tell them you respect my authority and that I’m doing a good-ass job,” Nine said.
“You got it,” John said.
Nine gave Taylor’s shoulder a squeeze. “Good luck. And if you’re not back in an hour, I’ll be leading the search party.”
Taylor smiled at him, trying not to feel nervous. This was the kind of chance Kopano was talking about—an opportunity to lead, to make a difference. Or, at the very least, to see firsthand what the Academy was up against.
“So,” Taylor said, turning to John. “Are we flying over or what?”
“No reason for anything so dramatic,” John said with an easygoing smile that made Taylor want to strangle him. “We’ll just walk right over and say hi.”
Walk right over. Into the encampment of a bunch of soldiers who wanted to install electrified microchips into her head. Stroll on by for a pop in. It suddenly sounded like a pretty shaky plan to Taylor.
But when John Smith started to walk away, she followed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CALEB CRANE
LE ROYAL MANSOUR—CASABLANCA, MOROCCO
IT WAS CLOSING IN ON THREE IN THE MORNING and the casino floor of Le Royal Mansour was still as busy as it had been two hours earlier when Caleb first took up his post on the balcony. At first, he’d felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He wore slacks and a white dress shirt that fit him perfectly but chafed for reasons he couldn’t articulate. He’d selected a chaise lounge close to the balcony’s railing that afforded him an unobstructed view of the rows of table games below, but also had him reclining in a way that felt way too prone. Too exposed.
Leaning back on his elbows on the plush couch in stuffy clothes, Caleb felt like a model in a bad cologne ad. He sat up and tried to make his expression neutral.
He was a cool guy and he belonged. Yeah, totally.
Caleb kept expecting someone from the hotel’s security staff to bounce him. But this wasn’t like America, where you couldn’t get near a casino until you were twenty-one. The gambling age in Morocco was eighteen and he got the impression that law was only loosely enforced. He was pretty sure those were a group of teenage boys smoking cigarettes and playing poker right below him. No one bothered him at all, unless he counted the waitress who brought him an unsolicited mug of tea.
“To calm your nerves so you can win big,” the waitress had said as she set the steaming mug on the glass end table beside him.
Di
d he look nervous? Was he giving off that vibe? Oh man. Caleb chewed his thumbnail, then stopped because he knew that made him look suspicious. He took a sip of the tea too quickly and burned his tongue.
He was bad at this. Like, really bad.
Relax. Don’t pop a dupe. No one’s paying any attention to you.
He kept sitting up and leaning back and straightening again and then reclining, unable to decide what the proper position for a stakeout was. Or, rather, what was the proper position for a person not on a stakeout.
His gaze tracked across the green felt of the blackjack tables and the spinning black and red of the roulette wheel. There was a steady flow of gamblers to watch, a predictable cycle—a shiny-eyed guest elbowed their way to a spot at a table, watched their chips dwindle and then let a fresh victim take their place. The clouds of cigar smoke that wafted in the air gave Caleb the feeling that he was peeking in on a sweaty, feverish dream.
As he got used to the click of chips and splutter of decks shuffling, and once he realized that every scream from below wasn’t because someone had identified him, Caleb was able to let his mind wander a bit. He hoped that his friends back at the Academy were okay. Caleb thought back on their short phone conversation earlier that day.
“You’re supposed to know all the secrets,” Caleb had said to Einar after muting their line. “Any idea where Earth Garde would be imprisoning uncooperative Garde?”
“No, I don’t know where Earth Garde stores their delinquents,” Einar replied. He stroked his chin. “But I have a feeling that Derek King might. There’s a reason the Foundation always used him and his men to hunt down Garde. He’s plugged in.”
“If they’ve got a place strong enough to hold Six and Sam, they could be using that same place to hide that body-jumping turd,” Five said.
Caleb shook his head. “But that would mean Earth Garde’s working with the Foundation.”
Einar smiled. “You’re finally catching up.” He waved at the phone. “Tell your friends we’ll go looking for their prison. In fact, we’d love to help. If King cooperates, we could have some information for them as soon as tonight.”
Derek King. The CEO of Blackstone Group. The guy who gave the orders to mercenaries who had tried to kill Caleb and his friends on multiple occasions.
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