Five's Betrayal

by Pittacus Lore

  “Good,” I say.

  “Is it?” Setrákus Ra asks. “Two of the Garde escaped, and Ethan lives. We lost valuable assets, and our enemies gained a powerful weapon in Nine. I don’t consider that a victory. Do you?”

  I pause. I haven’t really processed anything that’s happened, or what the repercussions of my actions might be. I know fundamentally that I chose incorrectly when I saved Ethan—I’ve been around the Mogs long enough to realize that. But this is the first time I’ve ever had to wonder about how important Ethan’s position is to the Mogs. I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I know. It was a dumb thing to do. I might have been able to capture Four and Nine if I’d left Ethan behind.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  I’ve hardly had time to think about this myself, much less provide any sort of convincing answer to Setrákus Ra.

  “I don’t know. I mean, Ethan’s always been there for me.”

  “Ethan does what he is told,” Setrákus Ra says, leaning on his staff. “I’m sorry you have to hear it like this, but all of Ethan’s kindness and mentoring to you stems from me. He was following orders as my proxy when I could not be there with you myself. Do you understand that?”

  I nod. He continues.

  “Despite being held prisoner on this base, Nine’s true identity was known to very few. Mostly only officers and a few of our top scientists.”

  “How could the Garde have known Nine was here then?” I ask.

  “We don’t know,” Setrákus Ra says. His eyes narrow a little, and his face grows grim. “The most obvious answer would be that someone within the compound told them. Someone who had access to that sort of confidential information.”

  I start to shake my head immediately. I see what he’s getting at.

  “It wasn’t me,” I say. Words start spilling out. “I would never. I know I’m technically one of the Loric, but I’ve never had any communication with any of the others. I’ve been trying to help track them down for you! Check my room. Check all the security tapes and electronics I own. There’s no way I’d even begin to know how to get in touch with them, much less—”

  “Relax, Five,” he says, and his voice leaves no room for argument or further comment. “I’m not suggesting it was you.”

  He lingers on the last word, staring me down.

  “You think it was Ethan,” I say.

  “The humans are a tricky sort.”

  “I can ask him,” I say. “He’ll tell me. Where is he?”

  “Would he really be honest with you?” our Beloved Leader asks. “The Mogadorians have never been anything but up front with you, Five. But Ethan deceived you for a year. We wanted to take you in immediately, but he convinced us you weren’t ready. That you weren’t clever enough to see reason. We’ve been wanting you to play a more active role in our conquering of this planet, but he has always said you’ve needed more time.”

  My thoughts flash back to when I had Emma in the air. Ethan saying, “He’s not ready.”

  I shake my head again.

  “But we’ve seen the security footage from the attack,” he says. “I’ve seen how well you can lead. I know you’re ready to move forward. I think it’s time you were assigned a mission, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I say without hesitation. “What can I do for you?”

  “You know of the krauls that live in the pens here, yes?” Setrákus Ra asks. “Or lived, rather. Many of them were killed in the attack, and others still roam in the tunnels of this complex.”

  “I do.”

  “When a kraul is injured, do you know what happens to it?”

  I shake my head. I’ve never given much thought to the gross little creatures, other than to make sure that I stay away from them. The tunnels leading to their pens smell awful.

  “It’s devoured by the rest of the pack. It’s a simple evolutionary instinct that’s helped keep the species alive through the years. Many Earth creatures do the same sort of thing, both literally and metaphorically. An injured animal in the pack is a vulnerable point, a chink in the armor. This is even truer when it comes to more evolved species. Those who can think and act with intelligence. Those who have information that can be exploited when they are weak.”

  I try to convince myself that he’s not about to propose what I think he’s going to propose, but I can’t. My Cêpan may have raised me to be a liar, but I’m not that good.

  “You’re going to kill Ethan, aren’t you?” I whisper, and after the question comes out, I immediately wish I could take it back, as if by speaking the words I’ve put this idea in his head. Even though I know this isn’t the case.

  “I am not,” Setrákus Ra says. “You are.”

  I stop breathing as I try to deal with what he’s just said. My fingers tighten on the armrest of the metal chair, and I am made of cold steel—my Externa acting out of control.

  It doesn’t last long. Setrákus Ra waves his hand at me, and suddenly I’m made of normal flesh again.

  His power is terrifying.

  “You must show your allegiance to the Mogadorians with an offering of blood. You’ve known this since your first day among us. That has not changed.”

  I feel sick, but I try to steady my stomach as best I can with sheer willpower. The last thing I need to do is show weakness in front of him.

  “You do want to rise in power, don’t you, Five?” he asks.

  “Of course I do,” I say.

  And it’s true. I’ve come too far now. I can’t go back to hiding. And now that I’ve seen the extent of the Mogadorian forces, I know there’s no way the Garde stand a chance against them. Nine and Four might have mowed down a lot of our soldiers here, but that’s nothing. A speck of the Mogs’ power.

  “You’ve been studying the Great Book,” my Beloved Leader says. “What does it say about anyone who is suspected of treason?”

  “That they must be destroyed,” I say reflexively. I try to backpedal. “But I don’t think he would have done this.”

  “Can you say that with one hundred percent certainty? Would you stake your life on it?”

  And I realize that I don’t know for sure.

  “No,” I murmur.

  “Ethan is a problem for you. He is a weakness that the Garde can exploit. And they will. Make no mistake about that. Would you rather have him die nobly at your hands or fall into the clutches of the Garde? Who knows what they might do to him—you’ve seen what an animal Nine is. Do you really wish that upon Ethan?”

  “No, of course not,” I say.

  My head is a complete mess as I try to process everything Setrákus Ra is saying. It all makes sense. Each reason abides by the things I’ve been studying—that Ethan himself has been teaching me. But I wish there was another way.

  I look up at him. He’s peering back at me with those judging eyes, as if he knows that a big part of me doesn’t want to harm Ethan—my one friend. But then, I don’t even know if he is my friend. Maybe he has just been working under orders. And if he had anything to do with the attack . . .

  “Do you know what I planned to do at the ceremony before the Garde laid waste to so many of our forces?” Setrákus Ra asks.

  “You were going to make me an officer,” I say.

  “In a manner of speaking.” His lips spread a little when he sees that this confuses me. “Deltoch offered you North America—your beloved Canada—when you first made the decision to see reason and join us. But I’ve read the reports on you. I’ve watched you grow from afar. When this planet falls, I want you to be the one I can count on to rule under my guidance. I was going to name you as my right hand, Five. My disciple.”

  “You want me to rule alongside you?” I ask. My head spins.

  “The moment you carry out this mission, you will become the second most powerful person on this planet. There is no need for a ceremony, only action.” He walks closer to me, crossing behind my chair and putting a hand on my shoulder. “Ethan is a liability, Five. He must be dealt with if you are to asce
nd.”

  And that’s all there is to it, really. I have endless potential. I will rule alongside our Beloved Leader. I’ll finally get to go back to Canada, which I liked so much when I was young—only this time I won’t have to be afraid. I will be the one who everyone loves and respects. Or fears. But in order for that to be a reality, I have to do one thing. This one small thing.

  I have to.

  “I agree, my Beloved Leader,” I say, but in the back of my head, I’m wondering if I can find another way around this. Like I did with Emma. I just need some time to think.

  Setrákus Ra smiles.

  “You have forty-eight hours,” he says. “Since we were unsure of his true loyalties, we moved him back to the Mog safe house in Miami. You should know where it is—you lived there for a year. We have eyes on the place. You shouldn’t meet any outside resistance. If you cannot kill him, you are nothing more than another injured kraul.”

  It’s not hard to get what he’s implying. Fail to do this, and I’m the problem. I’ll end up in a cell like Nine did. Or worse. They’ll kill Ethan, anyway—probably in front of me. Or draw it out, slowly bleeding him dry to show me the error of my ways.

  But I am not weak. I am not the problem. I am endless potential and power.

  I am the future ruler of this forsaken planet.

  And as much as I owe to Ethan, our Beloved Leader has made up his mind. Ethan no longer has a place here. The best thing I can do for him is make sure his death is quick and painless.

  “I’ll ready a ship for you,” Setrákus Ra says. He comes back around to the front of my chair and offers me his hand. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet.

  “That’s okay,” I say. “I can get there on my own.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THERE ARE ALMOST A THOUSAND MILES BETWEEN West Virginia and my destination in Miami. I could take a plane or a ship—I actually can’t wait to see what kind of warships and transports the Mogs have that I haven’t seen—but I choose to go alone. To fly myself. Partly because I know long-distance flying will be good training for me, and partly because I need to clear my head and focus on the task at hand, and I know that’s not something I’ll be able to do if other people are around.

  Besides, I’ve been living in the compound with thousands of other people for months now. Always under scrutiny. I could use a little time to myself.

  Setrákus Ra agrees to let me go out unaided and doesn’t even make me wear any kind of tracking device or communicator. Instead, he wishes me luck and has one of the scientists give me some kind of light suit that fits me like a second skin. I wear it under my clothes in order to fight against the cold air of the high altitude. I’m not sure what exactly is going to happen next, so I shove my Loric Chest in a duffel bag and strap it to my back. I don’t want to leave it behind.

  And then I’m off.

  I stay above the clouds so no one on the ground has the chance to see me and so there aren’t bugs constantly smashing into my face. I spot a few airplanes now and then, but I just swerve one way or the other and put some distance between us. Otherwise, it’s just me and the sky. And my thoughts.

  I have almost a thousand miles to talk myself into killing Ethan. Because, as much of a front as I put up for my Beloved Leader, there is still a big part of me that needs convincing.

  The conversation with Setrákus Ra keeps playing over and over again in my head as I constantly try to remind myself that going to Miami is what I have to do—that I can’t just take a right turn and head out into the Midwest or up to Canada. I want to be the right hand of our leader. I want to rule. I don’t want to go back into hiding, where I never feel safe and can’t show off my power. Especially now that the charm seems to be broken.

  I’m mortal. I can be hurt and killed. Even if I wanted to betray the Mogs, there’s no way they’d let me live.

  The route I take to Miami is close to the one I took through the Appalachian Trail with Rey when I was just a kid, when his cough started getting bad and we moved down through the states and to the islands. I probably wouldn’t have realized this if Ethan hadn’t shown me a map of that journey recently. But when I was a kid on those trails, we were moving slowly, and I was scared the whole time that at any moment the Mogs might show up and take me away. It’s almost funny looking at it from where I am now, flying like a jet, not from the Mogs but for them.

  I think of Rey in earnest for the first time in what seems like weeks. Already that part of my life feels so distant and far away, like it was a weird dream I suddenly woke up from one day. I wonder what he would say if he knew what I was doing. It’s not like Rey wasn’t a murderer. I think about all the animals he slaughtered for us to eat and survive on when we lived on the island, or even the snakes that he beheaded just to make sure they didn’t attack us. And I realize for the first time that Rey killed other things too. People. Mogadorians. When the Mogs came for me in Canada—when I’d hidden in a tree scared out of my mind that the boogeymen Rey always talked about had come to take me away—he killed them. Turned them to ash right in front of me. And I’d never thought about it as being anything bad because he’d always told me they were evil. He killed them without a second thought because he thought they were a threat.

  That’s sort of what I’m doing, right? Maybe Rey would completely understand the mission I’m on. I wonder if he might even have seen reason if he hadn’t gotten sick and had actually sat down and talked with the Mogs instead of just blindly follow the Loric orders to destroy them.

  I stop somewhere in Georgia to rest and refuel myself with a couple of burgers. The Mogs gave me a fat stack of cash to use in case I needed shelter for the night, but my adrenaline is pumping. So I take to the sky again.

  I have to focus.

  How am I even going to do what I have to do?

  The easiest thing would be to use my telekinesis, I guess. I could just snap Ethan’s neck the moment I see him. We wouldn’t even have to talk. He’d never see it coming. Or I could send him sailing through the sky and into the sea. Or I could use my Externa and become a walking blade. I realize that there are a million different ways that this could play out—a million different ways to kill—and I wonder how I’m supposed to decide on one perfect end that is humane and painless and honorable. How am I ever supposed to do this?

  I wonder if Ethan really was involved in the attack on the base. I don’t want to think it’s possible, but it could be. And I guess that’s all that matters. That tiny sliver of doubt is the kind of thing that has to be eliminated. Just like the rest of Mogadore’s enemies. Just like it says in the Great Book.

  It’s not like this is my decision. Setrákus Ra has determined Ethan’s fate. He is going to die whether I kill him or not. If I don’t do this, who will? Would they throw him in a cell for a while? Torture him? I don’t want him to have to go through that.

  I am doing the right thing.

  It’s almost midnight by the time I reach the beach house, and by that point I’m completely exhausted. The place is just as nice as I remember it. How long ago was it that I first saw it? A year and a half? Two years? I guess I wasn’t keeping track of time for a while there. But seeing the house again for the first time in months makes my stomach jump. It’s a weird sensation, one I’m not used to.

  Something like going home.

  I float in the air above the front gate and tell myself that it’s not too late. I can turn around and go. But even as I’m thinking this, my shoes are on the ground and my finger is on the doorbell and another voice is in my head, saying, “This is the only way, and when it’s done you will rule this place.”

  A servant answers the door—a maid I don’t recall but who must know me because she gasps when she sees me and then disappears inside. There’s some kind of commotion in the living room, and then Ethan shuffles out.

  He’s changed so much in the tiny window of time since I saw him last.

  His right arm has been amputated above the elbow and is wrapped in white cotton.
He has a bandage on the right side of his face. There’s a dark smudge threatening to bleed through from the other side of it. I knew that his eye was bad, but it looks like the green lava must have eaten through half his face. When he sees me and tries to smile, he ends up wincing, and I picture the most grotesque injuries imaginable under all the gauze and cotton.

  Do it, I think. Now is the time. Just get it over with; finish it right here.

  But he speaks. And I can’t.

  “I know I’m not much to look at,” he says.

  “I’m just glad you’re alive,” I say. Even as the words come out of my mouth I know how ridiculous they are, but I can’t stop them. It’s like my mind has slipped into autopilot and is making me say things that I know a normal person would say. I’m just pretending. Just lying.

  “I was worried—I don’t really remember much about everything that happened. When I woke up, I was in a Mog helicopter. They’d treated me with something that had counteracted whatever the green stuff did to me, but . . .” He raises what’s left of his right arm. “As advanced as their medicine is, the damage had already been done. They told me you were fine, though. That you’d saved me from falling into the green lake.”

  I nod.

  “But the attackers escaped, right?” he asks.

  “Yeah. They did.”

  Ethan laughs a little and shakes his head, even though I don’t think anything is actually funny. Then his face gets really serious for a second.

  “That’s a shame,” he says, and his voice is gloomier than I’ve ever heard it before.

  I just nod. He narrows his good eye as he inspects me.

  “You’ve got bug guts on your shoulders, and your hair’s all matted down. Don’t tell me you flew all the way here.”

  “It was good training,” I said.

  “Jesus. Who forced you to do that?”

  “No one. I suggested it.”

  Ethan just nods a little bit.

  “You’ve outgrown all your teachers,” he says quietly.

  “We’re about to start the next phase of my mission,” I say. “The endgame is about to begin. I have about forty-eight hours before I’m needed back. Well, less than that now. About a day.”