Invasion | Box Set | Books 1-7

by Platt, Sean

  They went.

  The Titans followed.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  As Lila entered the enormous room hand in hand with her daughter, she found herself facing every member of the party she’d last seen when they’d all been in captivity, levitating their way through Ember Flats under guard. None had been killed or even seemed to have been beaten. Clara had told her as much, but Lila, deep down, hadn’t believed it. She’d heard the others’ voices calling out — all but her father’s, or his duplicate’s — but hadn’t wanted to draw attention to her and Clara by doing the same. Maybe the Titans would forget her if she stayed quiet and pretended to watch the video screen’s empty entertainment. And maybe Lila would forget what she knew about Titans: namely, that they could become Reptars, or God knew what else.

  But no, they were all here. Waiting, all seated in posh chairs except for Kindred and a tall woman Lila didn’t know, both standing by a fireplace that was dancing with bright purple flame and — at least from where Lila was standing — didn’t seem to be generating any heat. Kindred seemed to be seeking command, making himself large and obvious, standing ramrod straight near the room’s front, but the woman’s presence dwarfed him. Her bearing was almost surreal, and effortlessly dominant. She was nearly as tall as Kindred and twice as magnetic.

  She was dressed, appropriately enough, like an Egyptian queen. Like Cleopatra but with a skin tone more authentic to the region than Angelina Jolie. Her long, mostly bare arms were ringed, both above and below the elbow, with gold and silver bracelets. On the right arm was a skintight adornment made to look like a snake, its tail facing down, its head up, toward her shoulder. Her face was smooth and mostly natural, but her eyes were fixed like a cat’s, dark black eyeliner wicking up at each outside end, lashes long. She had thin, delicate features and a chilly expression, her black hair swooped up and piled high, elaborately decorated with beads, jewels, maybe both. Even without the eyeliner, she seemed somehow feline, right down to the way she lithely moved her body in a flowing off-white gown.

  “Lila Dempsey, I presume.” The woman nodded to dismiss Kamal, and he gave a small bow before turning to go. Ravi seemed eager to do the same — to take her hand in a strange parody of farewell, but when Piper ignored him, he turned to Clara. Then Kamal’s attention turned to Clara as well, and they both bowed again. It should have seemed absurd, but it wasn’t. Lila had seen many strange reactions to her daughter over the years, and awe for Lightborn was hardly the strangest among them. The boy left, and Kamal moved to stand respectfully back from the woman, but Lila knew a guard when she saw one.

  “Lila Green,” she corrected, looking back up at the woman. There’d been no way, after Astral Day, to make her name change official (although the Heaven’s Veil government had managed it when she’d become Lila Gupta), but she’d still taken Christopher’s name in mind and heart. And with that thought, a wall of sadness hit Lila with an almost crippling force. She’d been widowed twice, and was still closer to twenty than thirty.

  The tall black woman nodded slowly, came forward, and as every head turned, approached Lila and took her hand.

  “Your husband. Yes. I’m so sorry. I’d forgotten.” She gave a sympathetic smile. “My name is Mara Jabari. I’m viceroy of Ember Flats. We have an unsteady peace with the clans outside our gates. They know not to enter the city but usually serve a valuable purpose outside it. Security, so that we are not forced to divide our forces and send them on patrol. The arrangement works because we do not receive authorized visitors arriving by land. If we’d known you were coming …” Jabari trailed off, perhaps unwilling to deepen Lila’s wound by implying that Christopher and Aubrey’s deaths were her own group’s fault.

  She’s lying, Lila told herself. But somehow she didn’t think so. She looked over at Clara, who gave her an almost imperceptible shake of the head.

  Lila smiled a polite but perfunctory thanks then slipped her hand from the viceroy’s smooth-skinned embrace. She reminded herself that this person wasn’t a person: a duplicate of a human woman, not a real one. But looking in the woman’s almond eyes, it was hard to believe. The Astral mimic had even taken on a strange, region-inappropriate accent that Lila could almost place: Australia, perhaps.

  “Your father and his friend, I’ve been speaking to for a while now,” Jabari said, verbally brushing her hands to clear the uncomfortable air. Both Meyer and Kindred locked eyes with Lila. “Everyone else has been resting, and we’ve only now gathered. You haven’t missed a thing.”

  Lila surveyed the room. Jeanine held her body rigid, as if she planned to spring up at her first opportunity. Peers was mostly by himself, the dog sitting beside him, his eyes unreadable as they darted between the viceroy and Cameron, staring back with distrust.

  “Kamal you’ve met,” Jabari continued as if seeing none of this — none of the tension, none of the apparent murder lurking in Peers’s dark eyes. “Kamal assists me in my duties here. And the others will not be staying with us.”

  Lila turned to see whom Jabari meant, but three pairs of Titans, near the room’s trio of doors, were already leaving, shutting the doors as they left. Locking them in, Lila assumed.

  “It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Lila. Please. Be seated.”

  Lila looked to the others for a cue, got only uncomfortable stares, and finally moved to sit. Clara didn’t follow, and found herself alone in front of the viceroy where Lila had been standing.

  Jabari knelt in her long gown. The simple movement was elegant and effortless, no tremor of muscle apparent as she balanced low, now eye to eye in front of Clara. “And you, Miss Clara. I’ve been very eager to meet you: born under the first of the motherships, kin to the famous Meyer Dempsey.”

  Jabari took Clara’s hand the way she’d taken Lila’s. The minute skin touched skin, the strangest look crossed the girl’s face. Clara looked from the viceroy to Lila, to the viceroy, to Lila. Finally she looked at Meyer, whose eyes flicked toward his double before he nodded with a small frown.

  “Go ahead,” Jabari said, seeing Clara’s look aimed at her mother. “You can tell her.”

  To Lila, Clara said, “She’s human.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Piper watched Mara Jabari as she stood, gave Clara’s hand a parting squeeze and smiled, then moved to sit in the throne-like chair near the cool fire. Only Meyer and Kindred seemed unsurprised by what Clara had said — but then again, when Kamal and Ravi had brought Cameron and Piper into the room, the two Meyers had been sitting with the viceroy and gave the feel of a long conversation already nearing its exhausting end. They must have been through this already. Piper could only wonder what Meyer thought about his being replaced by a Titan while Jabari hadn’t been.

  Cameron looked like he was about to ask for more, but Jabari pulled a device from inside an end table cabinet before he spoke and set it on an ottoman in the room’s middle. Cameron’s eyes, seeing it, grew saucer wide.

  “Where did you get that?” he demanded.

  “I built it.”

  “Bullshit, you built it!”

  Meyer spoke up. “Cameron, calm down.”

  But Cameron was standing, his manner agitated.

  “I said sit down, Cameron!” His voice carried anger, but Piper thought he seemed more tired than anything.

  “I’ve seen it before. In — !”

  Meyer cut him off. “Yes, and if you’ll stop and think for a second, you’ll know there’s no way that’s the one Terrence used to own.”

  “You didn’t even know Terrence,” Cameron said.

  “I did, though,” Kindred said, his voice carrying the same weary, will-you-shut-up-and-listen tone. “He tried to use it once with Heather so they could speak in private, inside a bubble like this one.” He ticked his head upward. Piper glanced up to the shimmering air and had to assume the thing on the ottoman was encasing them in some kind of a dampening field so they could speak without being overheard — though by whom Piper wasn’t sure.
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  “And what? The Astrals took it? Gave it to her?” He glared at Jabari.

  “No,” Kindred said, still forcibly patient. “I wasn’t … ready yet when I first saw it. At the time things were all so confusing. I only knew I had to take it away, to separate them, to keep a closer eye on Terrence. This was before Canned Heat. So apparently I didn’t keep a close enough eye.” He glanced at Meyer. “Or maybe I was finally waking up after all.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Astrals don’t have problems with privacy,” Kindred continued. “Terrence’s device was useless to them, so I destroyed it. Personally.”

  Cameron looked like he might challenge Kindred — maybe accuse him of lying — but it would be a stupid, rash thing to say. Kindred had been with the group for five long years. If he was going to stop being human in spirit and betray them, he’d have done it long ago. But at that thought, Piper had another: that the Kindred sitting with them might be a different duplicate. Wasn’t it possible that the Astrals had created a bunch of Meyer copies and had only now — just before this meeting — swapped Kindred out for another with different allegiances?

  “No,” a voice whispered. Piper looked over to see Clara two seats down, shaking her head, reading her mind.

  “So … ?” Cameron began, but the question went nowhere.

  “I built it from Terrence’s plans,” Jabari said. “Which he sent to me.”

  “Why would Terrence send plans for a privacy jammer to—”

  “Through the resistance,” Kindred said. “She’s on our side.”

  Peers said, “Bullshit.”

  Lila’s head turned. Peers stood from his chair.

  “Bullshit,” he repeated, taking a single step closer. “She’s not resistance. Or human.”

  “She’s human,” Kindred said.

  “And they just don’t know? We’re supposed to believe that?”

  “Sit down, Peers.”

  “They’d know! They’d know if she were human! I don’t care what your Lightborn says or what you say.” He glared at Kindred. “You’re a fool if you believe she’s just been able to trick the Astrals all along. What happened to you, Meyer? They abducted you, right? So who did they abduct if she’s human? How did she get back down to Earth from the mothership? And then, what … she just killed her copy?”

  Meyer answered with a heavy sigh, and Piper could see the effort it cost him.

  “There wasn’t a copy.”

  “What?”

  “They didn’t abduct me, Mr. Basara,” Jabari said. “They ran me through a battery of tests. When the tests were over, they gave me the office.”

  Peers looked like he might explode. His eyes were on fire. “More bullshit! We’ve studied every one of the nine capitals! We’ve studied all of the viceroys! They were all like Meyer, like you. A strange compulsion drew them to a place, and—”

  “That’s exactly how it was for me,” Jabari said.

  Peers jabbed a rock-solid finger her way, accusation heavy in the air. Jeanine and Charlie were between Peers and the viceroy. Neither seemed to know where they should look. But if Peers had a straight shot, Piper felt sure he’d already have leaped at her.

  “Shut your fucking mouth. I don’t know what you are, but this … this farce is insulting to every one of—”

  “Sit down, Peers!” Meyer bolted to his feet and moved toe to toe with the dreadlocked man, locking eyes until Peers finally returned to his chair, looking away.

  “We’ve been through all of this,” Meyer said, looking at Jabari and Kindred. “Five hours, at least. I’m convinced that what Mara says is true — and more importantly, so is Kindred. We’re both tapped into the Astral mind — its feel and intention more than its informational content, at least — than any of you. Kindred can sense the mothership here. I can feel the collective on both sides.”

  “Sensing. Feeling,” Peers mocked, but nobody paid him more than glance.

  “We’ve run through the logic. We have an Internet backup from Cairo before Astral Day, and we’ve been here forever now, comparing and figuring, plotting scenarios. I believe her, as does Kindred. And more important: Together, with our combined mind, we believe her. I’m too goddamn tired to engage in debate.” Meyer glared at Peers then briefly at Cameron. “What we say goes. Got it?”

  Nobody nodded, but Meyer met every eye in the group just the same. Watching him, Piper found herself transported effortlessly back in time, to when she’d met and married that dominant man. Nobody owned a room like Meyer Dempsey. It was his way or the highway — a lesson Raj had learned the hard way, again and again, on the road.

  “Piper,” he said. “Do you remember Astral Day? I called you at Yoga Bear as the news was breaking.”

  Piper nodded, still gobsmacked.

  “I was watching a news program. The interview guest was a man named Bertrand Delacroix — I remember because I knew a Brian Delacroix and had this vertigo moment where I thought it was the same person. We also heard him on the radio a few miles outside Morristown. On the program, Delacroix was talking about government cover-ups. His whole thing was that if not for the Astral app, the public wouldn’t have known about the ships until they were visible to light telescopes, and even then the field would have been limited and the panic contained. Most people wouldn’t have known until they were visible to the naked eye.”

  “Benjamin and I saw that program,” Charlie said. Then he did a double take and stared directly at Jabari. “Wait. You’re—”

  “What, Charlie?” Piper asked.

  “I never made the connection. You’re Dr. Jabari? Under Bertrand Delacroix?” He looked toward Cameron. “Jesus, I guess I just assumed you were a man. Did you know this, Cameron?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Benjamin used to joke. Don’t you remember? He’d say, ‘The da Vinci Initiate has a PhD your age. Why don’t you get your PhD, Cameron?’”

  “Sounds like my father’s idea of humor.”

  “Benjamin Bannister — Utah, Walker Ranch — he was fascinated with you,” Charlie said, now goggling at the viceroy.

  “I was the Initiate’s media contact,” Jabari said. “I should have been giving that interview on Astral Day, and I’d have said all the same things. It made sense, to urge disclosure. Governments are always killjoys, aren’t they? Bertrand only filled in because I was gone. I’d lined up all sorts of contingencies in place, just like Meyer said he did. A private jet on permanent standby at a tiny airstrip in Auckland. We had a refueling stop in India at a similarly remote airstrip. We ignored all the no-fly restrictions and took our chances. Fortunately, things went well.” She looked at Piper, and Piper wondered if Meyer had already told her how terribly their own cross-country trip had gone despite similarly well-laid plans. “Cairo was hell, but nobody was going into the area, and only a handful of excellent guessers — nuts, most of them, rather than informed — went to the monuments at Giza. I was ready when they came. But they didn’t take or replace me.”

  “If you’re on our side,” Jeanine piped in, “then why were we arrested?”

  “You were running around my city with a machine gun in plain sight,” Jabari said. “What did you think we were going to do?”

  “They thought …” Jeanine trailed off, but Kindred was nodding at her. “They thought we were supposed to go to the archive. That the … the Astrals, I guess, but the humans too … wanted us to reach it, and would let us walk right in.”

  “That’s correct. That’s what they want you to do. You particularly, Mr. Bannister. But we’re on a razor’s edge here. Ember Flats has been a peaceful city for years, but it’s a fragile balance. The Astrals provide all we need, acting as friends to the city and collaborators to the human government. They respect our administration and understand PR enough to let us be as long as we don’t cause them trouble. The people of Ember Flats live a fine existence. One might even call it privileged. All thanks to the Astrals’ help. But people have long
memories, and most here remember how Giza was. They remember events like Moscow’s destruction, before our peace. It wouldn’t take much to hurl this city into chaos, and if we hadn’t acted, that might have triggered it. So we had to stop you — though make no illusion, I’ll let you unlock the Ark in time.”

  “But not now.”

  “Not yet,” Jabari agreed.

  “That’s convenient,” Peers said.

  “Enough,” Meyer growled.

  Peers stared back. Jabari rose from her seat and approached him.

  “Mr. Basara,” she said. “I don’t believe you like me much.”

  Peers sputtered, suddenly at a loss for words. Nocturne licked his lips.

  “I don’t need to read minds like young Clara to read you. Meyer told me your story. And for it, I’m sorry. The city was not always so peaceful. There were days when harsher methods were required. I could not oversee every member of my security forces, and as you know, those were paranoid times. We all did our best. I would not have allowed what happened had you been brought to me rather than troops taking matters into their own hands. But it is not an excuse. I cannot and will not expect you to simply forgive me and my people. But I offer you my most heartfelt regrets nonetheless.”

  Peers looked smacked. He looked at Piper as if waiting for orders.

  Cameron cleared his throat. “You said, ‘Not yet.’ You want it opened … but later.”

  “My people — when they were in better touch with the resistance, before the Internet fell — believed what I’m told Charlie does: that the Ark is like a jury. That it’s still collecting evidence but already has a record of everything that’s happened since the Astrals were here last. When it’s unlocked, the information-gathering phase will stop, and the jury will take its recess. Then once the Astrals and the Ark are finished with their deliberations, judgment on humanity will be rendered.”

  “And if we’re found guilty?” Jeanine asked.

  “Then the human race will be eradicated,” Charlie answered. “They’ll save a representative group of survivors to start over and try again next time — plus a few new gods left to tell the stories,” Charlie answered. “Just like every other time the aliens have come to Earth.”