“Savannah, now,” Mom said.
“Coming!” She ran her fingers across the fibers.
“No, now.” Mom grabbed her arm and tugged.
Savannah leaned over and plucked something off the carpet. “Got it.”
I turned around, trying to get my bearings. We were standing on a small gravel lot near a low building. Nearby was a large asphalt pad with a helicopter sitting in the center like a great glass dragonfly. And near the door of the building lay the guard in a crumpled heap.
Mom turned to Dani, her eyes wide with terror. “What did you do to him?”
Dani shrugged and started toward the helicopter, herding us along. “I tranqued him.”
“What?” Mom shrieked.
“There was no other way.” She pulled open the glass door of the helicopter and ushered us aboard.
“You said you wouldn’t do that anymore!” Mom insisted. The four kids all crowded into the back of the helicopter, while Mom sat down in the copilot seat, still glaring hard at Dani.
Dani climbed inside and shut the door. “Dr. Seagret, as you are so fond of pointing out, I’m a Shepherd. We lie.”
Mom just folded her arms and glared. I looked at the guard through the plexiglass sides of the helicopter, trying desperately to feel any of Mom’s outrage. But the guard had been a Shepherd. Maybe even one of the Shepherds that had attacked Mom and Nate the other day.
Besides, what other option did we have? It was us or Them.
I wondered if the Shepherds felt the same way. When Dad wrote his book on Underberg and got close to exposing the Shepherds’ past and they’d retaliated by destroying his career and our family, it was us or Them, too. Dani said we all learned right from wrong, we just learned different rights and different wrongs, and the further it went, the more it seemed as if their rights were the complete opposite of ours, until everything, even our lives, came to be about us or Them. Until I could look at a man lying in the road and think it was okay because it meant we escaped detection.
Which I guess made me not so very different from the Shepherds.
Dani reached up to a little hook in the roof of the copter and pulled down a headset with big half-sphere earphones the size of softballs and turned to us. “Shoulder harnesses on and locked in, guys. Over each of your seats, you’ll find a headset. You’ll need these during flight, not just so you can hear each other, but also to protect your ears from the sound of the machinery. Put them on, and lower the attached boom mic so you can speak into them.”
We did as we were told. The headsets were thick and heavy, and attached to the helicopter via power cable. They must have come equipped with some sort of noise-canceling technology, for when I put them on, not only did everything go quiet and muffled, but there was a distinct, tinny not-sound in my ears, like a television set to an empty channel.
“Is everyone ready?” Dani’s voice buzzed in my ear.
“I suppose this is the wrong time to ask how much experience you have flying a helicopter?” Mom’s voice was dry as she questioned Dani.
“Yes,” replied Dani, as I felt rather than heard the whoop-whoop of the blades beginning to spin above my head. “It is.”
As we lifted from the ground, my stomach seemed to sink into my lap. This was nothing like flying in a plane. The plexiglass sides made it seem like we were just floating up here, despite the rhythmic roar of the blades. I leaned over to look as the ground receded beneath us. Already the security guard looked more like a squashed bug on the lawn than a person.
“Ahem. Sit straight back there, unless you want us to tip,” Dani’s voice barked in my ear.
I shot back against the seat. Tip? “You’re kidding, right?” I breathed into the microphone.
“No,” Dani said. “Now stop talking. This is harder than it looks.”
Savannah grabbed my hand and squeezed as we rose into the sky.
AFTER A WHILE, Dani seemed to relax. Maybe it was when we reached a cruising altitude, or we got well past the confines of Eureka Cove. Below us, the ground spread out like a bumpy green carpet. Without shifting too much in my seat, I was mesmerized by the sight of the Earth below us. We were flying steadily west as the afternoon sun shone brightly into the cabin.
“Twelve times,” Dani said, breaking a fifteen-minute silence. “I’ve flown a helicopter twelve times.”
“Cool.” Eric’s voice broke through on the headset. “We’ve ridden in one once. Now.”
Dani chuckled. “Every Shepherd is required to get training in multiple types of aircraft. I have certifications in small craft, jets, rotorcraft, paraplanes, and lighter-than-air . . .”
“What’s lighter-than-air?” Howard asked.
“Dirigibles. You know, blimps.”
“Why do you do that?” I asked. “You won’t need blimps in outer space.”
“No, but the training is important, and different skill sets build on one another. For instance, I know much more about moving around in zero gravity because of all my pilot training.”
“How many times have you been to outer space?” Howard asked.
“Not twelve,” Dani said. “I don’t share the fondness for it that Anton does. Or Dr. Underberg, for that matter. But we all have our strengths. My gift is computers. I’ve also done a lot of advanced physical training as well—martial arts, meditation, endurance—pushing the human body to its limits and beyond.”
I remembered her wild cliff dive back on the island.
“So how do you become a Shepherd?” Howard asked. “I mean, what if you wanted to join?”
“Howard!” I cried.
“I mean, what if they didn’t hate us or whatever. Or got over it?” Howard looked at me, as if confused by my reaction. “Or something?”
“You’d join the Shepherds just to go into outer space?” Savannah asked in disbelief.
“You bet I would,” he replied.
Dani laughed again. “Well, I guess that would depend on the person,” she said as we flew on and the sky began to darken around us. “I was born a Shepherd. There was really no other option for me. My mother was recruited because she wasn’t getting to do the kind of work she wanted at NASA. And Dr. Underberg was the same. He thought the government was wasting time fighting wars when we could focus instead on human progress that would make the very reasons for those wars—fights over land or resources—obsolete. Think about it: If every human being had a new planet to live on, or endless energy, or all the wealth of a solar system, who would we fight? And why?”
There were times when Dani sounded almost normal. When all the Shepherds did. When they talked about the vast potential of humanity, and the glorious future that awaited us if we all worked together for our own good. Then they killed bees and kidnapped people’s fathers and pretended that asteroids were going to destroy the Earth to hide the fact that they’d built a secret space station, and you remembered how bonkers it all was.
Howard slumped. “So I’d have to become a famous scientist first?”
“You won’t want to be a Shepherd, Howard,” I said, balling my hands into fists. “Especially not after I’m done with them.”
“They aren’t so bad,” Dani said. “I know it doesn’t seem that way right now . . .”
“Right now, when we’re running for our lives?” said Mom. “No, it doesn’t.”
Dani kept speaking over her. “But it was an amazing way to grow up. Shepherds take children seriously, you know. That wasn’t an act, this weekend at Eureka Cove. They really are very impressed with the children and the fortitude and imagination they displayed in Omega City. If things had gone differently, maybe you would all be Shepherds right now, and none of this would have been necessary.”
“When would things have had to start going differently?” Mom asked. “Back before you ruined my husband’s career? Because I’ll tell you right now, that was the last possible moment that he would have even considered working with you people.”
“Yeah!” I exclaimed. “Go, Mom!”<
br />
Mom actually turned around in her seat to smirk at me. Eric looked shocked.
“If there were no Shepherds,” Dani pointed out, “there would have been no Omega City.”
“If there were no Shepherds,” I said, “then maybe you would have grown up knowing your father.”
“Or maybe I never would have been born,” she snapped back.
There was a long silence, and the sound of the engine and the chop-chop-chop of the helicopter blades did little to fill it.
“I know that you made a huge sacrifice for us today,” Mom said, “and no matter our disagreements, we’re more grateful than we can possibly express, aren’t we, kids?”
“Yes,” we all said. I added under my breath, “But I still wouldn’t want to be a Shepherd.”
“Oh, I would!” Howard said. I was mortified—did everyone hear me? Stupid mic! “They send you to space, they teach you how to fly a helicopter. Eric, you should have seen Dani dive off that cliff. It was so cool!”
“You dove off a cliff?” Mom asked her.
“Thanks for sticking up for me, Howard,” Dani said. “Gillian, I understand your perspective. If I were you, I would feel the same way. Actually, I do feel the same way. That’s what I’m doing here.”
I thought about Dani’s home. The pictures on the walls and in the photo albums. Her mother was dead. She’d never met her dad. She no longer believed in the cause she was raised to serve. My father was right now in a spaceship somewhere far above my head, too, but I knew him and loved him. Mom and Eric were a few feet away, as well as my two best friends in the whole wide world. I had everyone. Who did Dani have?
“Sorry,” I said.
Dani’s back was very straight in the front seat as she flew on. “Thanks.”
The sun was low in the sky now, shining directly at us. Howard zipped up the hood and visor on his utility suit, and after squinting into the glare for a bit, the rest of us did the same. We must have made quite a sight—six silver-encased creatures in a big glass bubble. If anyone on the ground caught a picture, we could be the subject of one of my father’s alien classes.
I wondered if Dad would be teaching classes ever again. My eyes began to sting.
Even if we managed to open up a channel of communication with Dr. Underberg in Omega City, there was no guarantee he’d be able to save my father and Nate. Dani believed that if we could really talk to him—have a conversation, and not just a few stilted, coded messages—we’d be able to convince him to negotiate with Elana for the safe return of Dad and Nate. It would, however, require him to compromise his principles when it came to the Shepherds and their lies. Every time I considered that, there was a small, hard place inside me that screamed Never! I knew that place was inside Dr. Underberg, too.
And for him, I feared it was the only thing that mattered.
7
ALPHA AND OMEGA
AS THE HELICOPTER CRESTED THE LAST OF THE TREES AND DESCENDED slowly into the open field, a strange thrill stole through me. The last time I’d seen this place it was a smoldering wasteland—acres of charred grass and sandy earth melted into a glassy crust. Nate’s truck had been a twisted hunk of metal, and the scene had been lit by the colored, flashing lights of cop cars and fire trucks.
Now it was as if none of that had ever occurred. The field was a neatly mowed lawn of slightly yellowed summer grass. The fence around the perimeter was tall and topped with a generous swirl of razor-sharp barbed wire, but that was obviously no obstacle to the helicopter. There was a small road cutting through the pasture, which led to a single, lonely cinder-block building with a corrugated tin roof that glinted orange in the light of the setting sun. The place seemed deserted.
Next stop: Omega City.
Dani maneuvered the helicopter toward the ground, concentrating intently as we bobbed and dipped. She was aiming for a relatively flat patch of grass near the building, but clearly wary of skimming too close to the structure with our blades. I clenched my jaw as we jolted and slid into a landing.
“Sorry.” She cut off the engine and lifted her headset. “Need more than twelve flights’ worth of practice to stick the landing.”
One by one, we spilled out of the helicopter. I pulled back my hood and took a deep breath. The air smelled dusty, like old fires. Or maybe that was only my imagination. The Shepherds had long ago bulldozed the burnt remains of trees and turned over all the earth. Of course, rocket fuel was probably always hazardous to your health. I kicked at the grass.
Mom looked around, her face creased with worry. “This is more remote than I was expecting. Maybe we’d better take the children to a safe location first.”
Dani blinked at her and crossed her arms. “Where are you suggesting?”
“A police station?”
She rolled her eyes. “And again, I ask how you’re going to explain this to them. Do you really think they’re going to let me just walk out of there after I fly a stolen Guidant helicopter into their parking lot? That they aren’t going to call Guidant first thing to try to get to the bottom of this? If we go to the police, we’ve lost any chance of contacting Underberg.”
“Okay, then what about the Nolands’ house? We could leave the children there.”
“Sure,” Dani said, sarcastic. “Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Noland, can you babysit these guys for a while? We have to go rescue your son Nate from the evil scientists who shot him into space. That’ll be a quick conversation.”
“No, it won’t,” said Howard matter-of-factly.
Mom rubbed the heels of her hands over her forehead. “There has to be an option. This is madness. I can’t—they’re children. The last time they were here, they almost drowned.”
“I’d say Omega City is in much better shape now,” Dani said.
“And so are we,” Savannah pointed out. “My arm’s fine, and Eric’s teeth are fixed.”
“Yeah,” said Eric. “Besides, this time at least we’re with grown-ups. I don’t want you to leave us with people who don’t know what’s going on, Mom.”
I chimed in, too. “Remember what they did to you and Nate at Guidant? At least if the Shepherds come back, we’re prepared for whatever they want to do to us. The Nolands wouldn’t be.”
Dani sighed, and slung a bulky bag over her shoulder. “We’re wasting time. The longer we stand here talking, the less chance we have to do anything before Guidant figures out where we’ve gone.”
Mom turned to us and took a deep breath. “I’m saying this now, because I might not have the opportunity later. If the Shepherds come back, if anyone comes after us, you guys run and hide. Understand?”
I didn’t really want to point this out to Mom, but that’s what we always did. That’s how we’d ended up in Omega City to start with. That’s what we’d done at every juncture on the island at Eureka Cove. At a certain point, running and hiding wasn’t going to solve anything. But we all nodded anyway. It was the only way to move along.
Dani started toward the building. “Follow me.”
The building ahead of us was about the size of an ice-cream stand. No power or telephone cables ran to it, and though small windows were spaced evenly around the exterior, I couldn’t see anything inside. The door featured a keypad and one of those tablet-sized panels I recognized from Eureka Cove. Dani paused here, dropped her bag to the ground, and unzipped it. Inside, I could see what looked like some electronic equipment, and even the corner of one of her own photo albums. I leaned in for a better look and she glared at me and snatched the edges closed. She pulled out a small gray box with a port at one end, opened the panel near the bottom of the tablet, and inserted the plug.
The screen flickered on with the imprint of a palm.
Welcome, Anton Everett came from the speaker.
She yanked the box back out of the port as the door unlocked, and didn’t meet any of our eyes. We followed her inside to a small, plain room with a desk, a few chairs, and some computer monitors showing different scenes from the yard, the road, the
gate near the fence, and some empty corridors. One whole wall was a large silver piece of sheet metal. Dani stopped dead in the middle of the floor and scanned the room.
“Where to, Anton Everett?” Mom drawled.
“I guess . . .” Dani frowned, staring at the wall. “Give me a minute.” She crossed to the desk and plugged her little box into a port there. Once again, Anton Everett’s log-in information came up.
“This looks like a giant elevator door,” Howard said, staring at the silver wall. “But there’s no button.”
“That must be a huge disappointment for you,” said Savannah. She had the hexaflexagon zipper pull back in her hands and was rotating it through its sides again. “I don’t get it,” she mumbled. “It was just here a second ago . . .”
“Why are you logged in as Anton?” I asked Dani as she sat at the desk and pulled up a file on the screen marked “Access Codes.”
“Because they’re supposed to think I’m still at Eureka Cove,” she said, not looking up from the monitor. “Got it.”
“But won’t Anton wonder why he’s suddenly showing up here?”
“That’s why we’re going to be quick.”
There was a rumbling behind me, and I whirled around to see the silver wall sliding away to reveal a large, concrete cargo elevator.
“Everyone in,” said Dani. “Let’s go.”
We dutifully boarded the elevator. The doors rumbled closed. There were no buttons inside, but after a moment, I could tell we were moving down.
Howard bounced up and down with excitement.
“How long does it take?” Mom asked, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
“A while,” said Eric. “If last time is anything to go by.”
“But this is a new elevator,” I said. “Guidant built this recently. I’m sure it’s quicker . . . right, Dani?”
Dani just looked at a place above the door, where usually you’d see a floor display, and gripped the handle of her bag.
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