She had so many questions but was suddenly aware, in her mind, of a light glowing like a small box. It had the feeling of a gift.
—Look.
—Who are you? Anaya asked silently.
But she was alone now and waking up. Foggy shapes moved around her.
Someone said: “It was too fast! We couldn’t get a fix.”
Two pats on her cheek, not gentle.
Blearily, she tried to focus on Ritter, looming over her.
“Are you doing this on purpose?” he asked angrily.
Her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. “Wha—?”
His hands were heavy on her shoulders. “Did you tell them to stop transmitting?”
“No!”
“Dr. Ritter,” said another man, and Anaya realized it was Paul, “I think she’s telling you everything she knows.”
Ritter lifted his meaty hands away, and two guards came and hefted her off the chair. Her legs felt wobbly as they marched her back inside to the waiting elevator. Ritter’s face was grim.
“You had no communication with them whatsoever?” he demanded.
“No,” she lied.
In her head, the little box glowed expectantly.
When the guards returned her to the dorm, Petra was awake and waiting. Silently, so she wouldn’t wake any of the other girls, Anaya told her friend what had happened.
—You think she left something in your head? Petra asked.
—I can see it glowing. It was clearest when she closed her eyes, like the ghost of a bright light. It wants to be opened.
—Anaya, you have no idea what it is!
She had no intention of ignoring it. How could she? She leaned back on her bunk and concentrated on it.
—Anaya, what are you doing?
—Shhh. Just let me . . .
The light had a hum to it, an amber glow, a faint loamy smell that reminded her of the cryptogen. As she stared, the light unfolded itself like some fantastical stage set and filled up her mind.
A planet blazed before her, a blue-and-green ball not unlike Earth.
She fell toward the planet, through the brightening sky. From on high she saw forests of black grass—and realized they must be farmers’ fields, because they had such clear edges. Machines hovered nearby, harvesting. And somehow she understood that this black grass was a valuable crop. A food crop. A city was built in a valley and up the hillsides. Low, undulating buildings, like nothing she’d ever seen. Among them were creatures. They were far away and had a dream haziness to them, but she knew instinctively they were like her. Furred, taking great, leaping strides. Like the creature who’d left these very images in her head.
She wanted to go closer, look longer, but suddenly her view changed, and she was above a lake. Built on the water’s surface, and beneath it, was a city. Coursing through the waterways were creatures with long tails and angular bodies. When they came out of the water, they walked on four legs, and sometimes two.
Another shift. Now she beheld a mountain, and a city built around its summit like a cone-shaped vulture’s nest, but woven out of metal instead of twig. Buildings bristled from the city’s jutting spars. And filling the sky were magnificent winged creatures. In her head, Anaya smelled something like gasoline, giddy and dangerous.
“Anaya!” she heard Petra whisper, as from a great distance.
“Go away,” she muttered, because she wanted to see more and was afraid it might all disappear like a mirage. She felt Petra shaking her roughly now. Reluctantly she opened her eyes and focused on the anxious face of her friend.
—Sorry, she said to Petra. It was like I was right there.
—Right where?
—Their home planet, she said, and went on to describe what she’d seen.
—So there’s three different species, Petra said. We kind of knew that already, right?
—And we’re definitely shaped after them.
—Were the swimmers totally gross? Petra asked.
Anaya knew she had to proceed with caution.
—It’s not like I was very close up.
Her friend looked at her skeptically.
—Honestly, I was watching everything from a distance! They looked very graceful, she added truthfully.
—But they were like reptiles? Alligators?
—More like dolphins.
—Yay, I’ve been upgraded to dolphin.
—Dolphins that could walk on two legs. And had cities.
—Did they have machines and stuff?
Anaya tried to remember. They must’ve, to build their cities. I think the runners were farming the black grass.
—Anything else? Petra asked.
—I don’t know, ’cause you shook me out of it!
—Sorry. Go back and see if there’s more.
Eagerly Anaya closed her eyes. To her relief the light was still there, patiently waiting. She tuned in to its hum, let the amber glow engulf her.
Once more she saw the water city, but the sky overhead was now darkly streaked with winged cryptogens. Light flashed off them, as though they were coated in metal. Their heads were hidden inside helmets with ferocious crests. They strafed the water city, battering it not with explosives but with something invisible that made the buildings crumple like plastic cups. From the city, and beneath the water, the swimmers retaliated with a barrage of what looked like arrows. Some of the winged creatures fell from the sky, but the majority fought on, relentless.
Her view changed suddenly. Now she was hovering above the runners’ city, and it, too, was under attack by the winged cryptogens. This time Anaya was aware of a terrible sound that came from their helmets as they swooped low.
Buildings imploded under the sheer power of this noise. Furred creatures, trying to leap to safety, were struck down, their bodies flattened like tin cans. Anaya felt the pure terror of the battle, like a terrible symphony building to a crescendo inside her head. She wrenched open her eyes. Her body was slick with sweat.
“You okay?” Petra whispered. “You were whimpering.”
—There was a war, Anaya said. The flyers attacked the other cryptogens. They have some kind of sound weapon that crushes things. The runners and swimmers didn’t have a chance. It was really, really awful.
In the corner of her vision she was still aware of the amber flicker.
—I think there’s more.
“Maybe take a little break,” Petra suggested.
Anaya swallowed, not sure how much more she could take. The inside of her mouth felt grimy, and she wanted to brush her teeth. But she had to see the rest.
Closing her eyes, she saw the ruins of the runners’ city. Some of the fields of black grass remained and were being harvested. But everywhere there were winged cryptogens circling overhead, overseeing the runners. The black grass was loaded onto levitating transport vehicles and taken away by the flyers. Anaya followed one of the transports as it skimmed over the landscape toward a vast building at the base of a mountain. Inside, she saw that the black grass was fed into a huge furnace. Not food anymore, but fuel.
Then she was hovering above the water city and plunged deep below it. Swimmers mined the lake’s bottom, extracting metal ore. On the surface, more laborers transferred the ore to hovering transports under the watchful eyes of winged cryptogens. Again Anaya trailed behind one of these transports as it approached the same factory. Inside, workers, mostly runners, melted the ore in colossal vats and then began to shape it.
Now she was somewhere else. On a flat, barren landing field, long lines of runners and swimmers were marched through gateways by flyer overseers. All the cryptogens were bulky with armor and gear. The gateways, she soon realized, were actually hatches in an enormous vessel. The hatches closed. The ship lifted off the ground toward other petal-shaped ships. They docked together around a central shaft—and now the single enormous ship resembled the one Anaya had seen orbiting Earth.
She opened her eyes. At the end of her bunk, Petra waited impatiently.<
br />
—The flyers control everything, Anaya said. Three species, but one rules. They use the runners’ black grass as fuel in their factories. And there’s some kind of stuff they get the swimmers to mine underwater. I’m pretty sure it’s the same thing their spaceship’s made of. I saw them all board it to come here. I don’t think the runners and swimmers had a choice.
—So why show you all this?
—I think she’s telling us not all the cryptogens are bad. The swimmers and runners are being forced. Not all of them want to fight.
IN THE GYMNASIUM, BETWEEN slashing punching bags and doing sprints, Seth silently told Esta everything that he’d learned about the cryptogens from Anaya at breakfast.
—So we’re the bad guys, Esta said.
He’d struggled with the same dismal thought. At least before, all the hybrid kids were lumped together as the bad guys. Now things had changed. According to Anaya’s story, the flyers were tyrants, using the other two species as forced labor. For so much of his life, he’d dreamed about these winged creatures. They’d been glorious things. He’d drawn them, wished one day he could become them. It was too bitter to think they were vicious dictators.
—She didn’t just dream all this? asked Esta.
—She seemed very sure.
—That’s an awful lot to pack into someone’s head in a split second.
He’d told Esta about the telepathy the same day he’d learned himself. He hadn’t felt good about breaking his promise to Petra and Anaya, but Esta half knew already, like he’d thought. He couldn’t believe how easy the silent talking was with her. Much clearer and faster than with the other girls. Maybe it was because he and Esta were both flyers, their brains molded to effortlessly respond to each other.
—Anyway, it doesn’t make us the bad guys, Seth told Esta, as much to convince himself as her. Just because we have some of their DNA doesn’t make us them.
—Doesn’t matter. They’ll hate us for it anyway.
—Ritter already hates us.
—I meant the other kids.
Startled, he glanced over at her.
—They’re jealous of us already, she told him. Because we stick together. And because we’re more powerful. Now they’ll be scared of us.
—Not Petra. Not Anaya.
—You sure? They won’t start wondering if we might turn against them?
—But we won’t, he said.
—They won’t trust you, Seth. Not like I do.
She brushed her fingers across his hand, and the sensation lingered on his skin. He felt like she’d spun something between them that couldn’t be broken.
—We can’t help what we are, she said. We can’t help that we’re the most powerful. We need to stick together. Come on—they want us to do our glides now.
In the gym, the White Coats had built a launch platform for the flyers, to see how long they could stay airborne. A White Coat ordered Seth to climb up after Siena and Vincent.
When it was his turn, he threw himself off the platform, arms spread, holding his body taut. He felt the drag of his legs. They were heavy and wanted to fall. It took all his strength to hold them straight. He glided toward the far wall and tried a turn, but he botched it and crashed down in a heap on the mat.
He rolled off to make room for Esta. She managed a half turn before touching down on the floor. It was encouraging to see how graceful she was.
—That was good, he said.
—Petra and Anaya aren’t going to tell Ritter about this, are they? she asked him as they headed back to the platform.
—Petra thinks we should. She’s got a point. If there’s an invasion, it might mean we have some cryptogen allies who would help us.
—I’m afraid what Ritter might do to us.
Seth had said the same to Petra and Anaya. If Ritter believed the winged cryptogens were the true enemies, he might start punishing the hybrid flyers. And Seth didn’t want to imagine what form that punishment might take.
—I made them promise not to tell, he said.
—I don’t trust Petra. All she wants is to be normal.
He didn’t like hearing her talk about Petra unkindly.
—Every kid here wants to be normal, he reminded her.
—Not me, she said. And not you.
She was right. He loved his feathered arms. He loved the feeling of gliding, the hope it might turn into proper flight. He wasn’t horrified by his new body the way Petra was by hers. She talked so much about wanting her tail off, wanting to go back to normal. Seth wanted to stay the way he was.
He wanted to go further.
—She’s not like us, Esta said.
Seth watched Vincent’s glide, admiring the sweep of his feathers.
“Go again,” a White Coat told Seth, and he climbed the steps to the platform and took a running jump. His glide began well, but when he tried to take an upward stroke, he felt his legs pulling him down again. He landed clumsily.
—Maybe we’re fooling ourselves, he said to Esta after her jump. Maybe we’re not really made to fly.
Despite having feathers, he was still the wrong shape, the wrong weight.
—No, she said. Look.
She rolled up her pants to show him. From ankle to knee were small bumps beneath her skin. They were quills, ready to break through.
—More feathers! he said.
He ran his hands over his own lower legs, and his heart leapt when he felt the tender spots along the length of his bone. It was happening to him, too.
—With feathers on our legs . . . , he began.
She nodded. We’ll have lift back there.
—No more drag!
—See? she whispered inside his head. We’re built to fly. We’re special, you and me.
“THANK YOU, PETRA,” PAUL said. “This is very useful information.”
Behind him, on the wallpaper of the interview room, the sun set over the sandy beach. Before today, the scene had always made Petra feel calmer and even sort of hopeful. Right now, though, she couldn’t help noticing the places where the wallpaper curled at the seams, speckled with mildew. She felt like she had a stone in her stomach.
She’d thought about it over and over. She had to tell them.
She was just a kid, same as Seth and Anaya, and they shouldn’t be keeping secrets from the military. Yes, they’d locked her in an underground bunker, but they were human beings, and she was a human being, and she should be helping them all she could.
The cryptogens had a ship that was untouchable. The nuke hadn’t even dinged it! When the invasion came, the military was going to need all the help it could get. And maybe there were runners and swimmers who might be allies instead of enemies. It could make all the difference.
She was glad it was just Paul sitting across from her. If it had been Ritter, she might’ve lost her nerve. She trusted Paul more. Which was why she’d sought him out in the gym this morning and asked to speak to him in private. She’d always found her interviews with him strangely reassuring. They were orderly. He used her first name, but he didn’t try to make friends with her. Also, his hair smelled of the same shampoo as her dad’s.
She’d told him everything Anaya had “seen” last night, and she felt lighter. But already guilt was flooding in to take the place of relief. She’d promised Seth she wouldn’t tell. He’d been worried about their safety—and his own, especially, as a flyer. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.
Even if he had been a lousy friend. Mostly he hung out with Esta and Siena and Vincent. Just because they had feathers with super-cool patterns and could sort of fly, they acted like they were special. They’d even started working out together with the ancient weight machines in the cafeteria, doing curls and bench presses. They never invited her over, so she kept her distance. No way was she going to beg to join their little crew.
So yes, she’d broken a promise to Seth. But he’d broken one to her, too. He’d told Esta about the telepathy, and maybe Siena and Vincent as well. Too
many times she’d caught them sitting together silently. No one’s mouth moving. It could only mean they were using telepathy.
Across the desk, Paul watched her patiently.
“I know you probably still think we’re national security threats,” she said, “and spies, or whatever, but we’re not. We’re all on the same side. The human side.”
She was good at speeches and wanted to convince Paul that the hybrids were loyal. She’d prepared what to say ahead of time, because she needed to nail it. She took another breath, opened her eyes wide.
“We all want to beat these things as much as you do. It was me and Anaya and Seth who helped get that soil the herbicide’s made from. We risked our lives to do that. Because we want to win. All of us do. Every single darn hybrid down here. The runners, the swimmers, the flyers. None of us asked for this. None of us want anything but for this to be over, and us to win. That’s why I’m telling you this. I want you guys to have all the ammo possible.”
“Okay,” Paul said.
That was it? She’d delivered a killer speech, and all she got was an okay? Frankly, she’d expected a smidge more gratitude and enthusiasm. She’d given him amazing information about three distinct cryptogen species and their relative statuses and technologies. She hadn’t expected a medal or anything, but still. Paul seemed done with her, so she started to stand.
Ritter walked in, and the room’s center of gravity shifted.
“Sit,” he said. “I have some questions of my own.”
With a sick turn of her stomach, Petra realized that he must’ve been listening from another room. She was suddenly aware of her tail swishing nervously against the leg of her chair. She stopped it.
“I wonder,” Ritter began, “why L9 didn’t come and tell us this herself. Since she was the one to actually receive this information.”
Petra had been worried about this question but had an answer prepped. She didn’t want Anaya getting into trouble.
“She thought it was probably only a dream, so she wasn’t sure it was worth telling you. But I thought you should know. I mean, if it’s real, it means—”
“I’m also interested in this cryptogen she’s been communicating with.”
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