“Hold up. What happened to him?” I ask. I lost track of the secretary of defense during the battle with Setrákus Ra.
“He didn’t make it,” Walker replies grimly. “I had enough people in Washington to get rid of most of the bad apples. The ones we knew about, at least.”
“So you’re saying MogPro is mostly gone and we’re left with . . .”
“A fractured government that’s been kept totally in the dark. This invasion, the idea of aliens from outer space attacking us, it’s all new to them. They accept that you’re fighting on our side. But you’re still an extraterrestrial.”
“They don’t trust me,” I say, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
“Most of them don’t even trust each other anymore. And anyway, you shouldn’t trust them,” Walker replies emphatically. “The known members of MogPro have all been arrested, killed or gone underground. But that doesn’t mean we got them all.”
I give Walker a look, rolling my eyes. “So better for me to stick with the devil I know, huh?”
She opens her arms, obviously not really expecting me to hug her. “That’s right.”
“All right, here’s my first request, liaison,” I say. “The Anubis—that’s the warship that left New York this morning—it’s carrying Setrákus Ra and is on its way to Mexico—”
“Oh, good,” Walker interrupts. “They’ll like that. One less threat in U.S. airspace.”
“They need to scramble jets, fighters, drones, whatever they’ve got,” I continue. “It’s headed to a place of great power, a Loric place. I’m not sure what Setrákus Ra wants there, but I know it’s bad if he gets it. We need to take the fight to him.”
Walker’s expression darkens the more I talk. I can already tell that I’m not going to like whatever she’s got to tell me. She leads me off the pier, across some matted grass and stops in front of a canvas tent slightly isolated from the others.
“A direct attack isn’t going to happen,” she says.
“Why the hell not?”
“My headquarters,” she says, pushing open the entrance flap. “Let’s talk inside.”
Inside Walker’s tent is an unused cot, a cluttered table and a laptop computer. There’s a map of New York City with red lines crisscrossing it—if I had to guess, I’d bet that line represents the path the Anubis took during yesterday’s attack. Walker pulls a second map from beneath the New York one, this one of the entire world. There are ominous black X’s drawn over a bunch of major cities—New York, Washington, Los Angeles and faraway places like London, Moscow and Beijing. There are more than twenty cities marked in this way. Walker taps her fingers on the map.
“This is the situation, John,” she says. “Every marking is one of their warships. You know how to bring one of those things down?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. But I haven’t tried.”
“The air force tried yesterday. It didn’t go well.”
I frown. “I saw them flying in. I know they didn’t make it.”
“They had some success against the smaller ships, but they didn’t even get close to the Anubis. The air force was considering another strike when the Chinese went all in.”
“What does that mean?”
“A couple hours after the attack on New York, they got trigger-happy. Were probably worried they might be attacked next. They threw everything short of a nuke at the warship over Beijing.”
“And?”
“Casualties in the tens of thousands,” Walker answers. “The warship still in the air. They’re shielded somehow. Chinese scientists say it’s some kind of electromagnetic field. They got tired of crashing jets up against it, so they tried parachuting a small force directly onto the warship. Those guys didn’t survive contact with the field.”
I’m reminded of the force field surrounding the Mogadorian base in West Virginia. The shock I received from touching it was enough to knock me out and make me sick for days.
“I’ve run into their force fields before,” I tell Walker. “Literally.”
“How’d you break them down?”
“Never did.”
Walker gives me a deadpan look. “And here I was getting my hopes up.”
I look back at Walker’s map and shake my head. Every black X looks to me like a fight I don’t know how to win.
“Twenty-five cities under attack. You have any good news, Agent Walker?”
“That’s just it,” she says. “This is the good news.”
I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Some places, like London and Moscow, sent troops out to fight the Mogs. But the response is nothing like here or Beijing. No bombardment, no rampaging monsters. It’s like the Mogs are taking it easy on them. And then there are the places like Paris and Tokyo that didn’t put up any fight at all. Those cities aren’t actually under attack. The warships and scout ships are controlling the airspace, but other than that there aren’t any Mogs on the ground. And then, this morning, that warship flies right over us, like we’re nothing. It’s got some people thinking maybe they don’t want to fight. Maybe it’s all just a big misunderstanding with the aliens, that we shouldn’t have attacked them first.”
“We didn’t,” I snap.
“I know that. But around the world, what they saw—”
“Setrákus Ra is sending a message,” I say. “Even though he’s got the advantage, he doesn’t want a protracted fight. He wants to frighten humanity into submission. He wants us to give in.”
Walker nods and walks over to her laptop. She enters a series of passwords, no easy task considering she’s typing one-handed, before finally pulling up an encrypted video.
“You’re more right than you know,” Walker says. “It’s not clear how he got access, but this video appeared via secure channels in the president’s private inbox. Other world leaders we’ve talked to have reported receiving the same thing.”
Walker clicks the play button and an HD-quality image of Setrákus Ra’s face appears on the screen. My blood runs cold at the sight of his pale skin and empty black eyes, at the dark-purple scar that encircles his neck, at the smug way he smiles into the camera. It’s the exact same smile he wore right before chucking me into the East River. Setrákus Ra is seated in the ornate commander’s chair on the Anubis—I remember seeing it when Ella showed me around the ship. Over his shoulder, New York City is visible through a massive floor-to-ceiling window. The sun is rising, the city still in flames. There’s no doubt in my mind he chose this background on purpose.
“Respected leaders of Earth,” Setrákus Ra begins, these polite words issued in a scratchy rumble, “I pray that this message finds you open-minded after the unfortunate events in New York and Beijing. It was with great reluctance, and only after an attempted assassination by alien terrorists, that I used a fraction of the available Mogadorian force against your people.”
“You’re the alien terrorists, by the way,” Walker says.
“Yeah. I got that.”
Setrákus Ra continues. “Despite these regrettable circumstances, my offer to embrace humanity and show it the way of Mogadorian Progress still stands. I am nothing if not forgiving. While my forces will continue to hold New York City and Beijing as a reminder of what happens when inconsiderate beasts bite a gently guiding hand, the other cities where my warships are positioned have nothing to fear. Assuming, that is, my generals receive unconditional surrender from these governments within the next forty-eight hours.”
My head whips around to Walker. “They’re not actually buying this shit, are they?”
She points at the screen. “There’s more.”
“In addition,” Setrákus Ra intones, “I believe the United States government is currently harboring the Loric terrorists known as the Garde. To continue assisting these twisted souls will be considered an act of open war. They are to be turned over to me at the time of surrender, in the interest of avoiding the costly and painful process of rooting them out. It is also my understanding that
some humans may have suffered a mutation at the hands of the Garde wherein they will manifest certain unnatural abilities. These humans are to be turned over to me for treatment.”
“What does he mean about mutations?” Walker asks me. “More bullshit?”
I don’t reply. Instead, I back away from the laptop while Setrákus Ra is still talking, my gaze shifting towards Agent Walker.
“You have forty-eight hours to surrender, or I will have no choice but to relieve humanity of your foolish leadership and liberate your cities by force . . .”
The clip stops and Walker turns to face me. When she does, I’ve already got a small fireball prepared, hovering it above the palm of my hand.
“Oh, Jesus Christ, John,” she groans, leaning away from the heat.
“Is that why you brought me here?” I snap at her, backing up. I’m half expecting a group of soldiers to burst in and try to restrain me, so I keep one eye on the tent’s exit as I move towards it. “Are my friends safe?”
“Do you think I showed you that as prelude to an ambush? Calm down. You’re safe.”
I stare at Walker for another couple of seconds. At this point, I don’t really have much choice but to trust her, especially considering the alternative is fighting my way through an army. If the government wanted to trade me to Setrákus Ra as a gesture of goodwill, it probably would’ve already happened. I extinguish my fireball and frown at Walker.
“So, is it true?” Walker presses. “What Setrákus Ra said about humans manifesting unnatural abilities? Does he mean that humans are getting Legacies?”
“I . . .”
I’m not sure how much to share with Walker. She tells me I’m safe, but it wasn’t too long ago that she was chasing me across the country. Even though she claims MogPro have been driven underground, there are still humans out there working against us. Hell, she just told me not to trust the government. What if there are new Garde all over the world, and what if a sellout like Secretary of Defense Sanderson gets to them before we can? And could I really out Sam and Daniela to Walker? I can’t tell her anything. Not until I’ve figured it out myself.
“I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about, Walker,” I say after a moment. “He’ll say anything to get what he’s after.”
I think she can tell I’m holding out on her. “I know it’s hard to accept considering our history, but I’m on your side,” Walker says. “For now, so is the United States.”
“For now? What does that mean?”
“It means, no one’s real eager to surrender to the alien maniac that just blew up New York. But if he starts torching more cities and we haven’t figured out a way to successfully fight back? Things might change. That’s why your request for a military operation in Mexico isn’t going to happen. For one, it’s a losing proposition against the warship. And two, prevailing wisdom right now is that we shouldn’t openly aid you.”
“They’re hedging their bets,” I say, unable to keep a sneer off my face. “In case they decide to surrender.”
“Word from the president is that all options are currently open, yes.”
“Giving up isn’t an option. I’ve seen—” I stop myself from referencing Ella’s vision of the future, figuring Legacy-powered prophecies won’t carry much weight with the hyperpractical Walker. “It won’t end well for humanity.”
“Yeah, you and I know that, John. But when Setrákus Ra starts killing civilians and all he wants in trade is you and the other Garde? That’s a course of action the president will be forced to consider.”
I turn away, opening up the tent flap to look outside, wondering where Sam is with that satellite phone. I also want to hide my face from Walker, feeling a choking panic coming on. I don’t know what to do. If Setrákus Ra’s deadline passes and he starts bombing another city, am I supposed to just let that happen? Do I turn myself in? Meanwhile, what do I do about his impending attack on the Sanctuary? And what about Nine and Five, who are still unaccounted for? It’s too much to handle.
“John?”
Slowly, I face Walker, making sure my expression is neutral. Even so, she must detect something there, because she crosses the tent and stands right in front of me. She grabs my shoulder with her good arm and I’m so surprised that I let it happen. There’s fear in Walker’s eyes, mixed with a kind of suicidal determination. I’ve seen that look before worn by my friends, right before they threw themselves into battle against impossible odds.
“You need to tell me how to do this,” Walker says to me, her voice low and shaky. “Tell me how to win this war in less than forty-eight hours.”
CHAPTER
TEN
“HOW’S IT GOING?”
Adam jumps when I put my hand on his shoulder and lean in to check on his progress. He hunches over a workbench where the Mogs tweaked their weapons before pointless attempts to bring down the Sanctuary’s force field. Adam has swept all the Mog crap that was cluttering the bench onto the ground and replaced it with an assortment of mechanical parts. The mismatched pieces come from the disabled Skimmers collecting dust on the airstrip, some from within the guts of the engines, others from behind the touch-screen dashboards. Among the ship parts are other odds and ends—the battery from one of the halogen lamps, a broken-down Mog blaster and the casing of a laptop. All these things have been bent, warped or hammered by Adam as he tries to replace our ship’s destroyed conduit using spare parts.
“How does it look like it’s going?” he replies, glumly setting down the blowtorch he was about to ignite. “I’m not an engineer, Six. This is strictly trial and error. So far, one hundred percent error.”
The sun is only now climbing above the jungle’s tree line to scorch the landing strip, no reprieve from the sticky heat out here. Adam has already sweated through his shirt, the pale skin on the back of his neck turning pinkish. I leave my hand on his shoulder until he sighs and turns to face me. His dark eyes are bleary and a little wild, gray circles forming around them.
“You didn’t sleep,” I say, knowing this for a fact. He worked through the entire night, his hammering and cursing often interrupting the fitful hours of rest I managed while curled up in the Skimmer’s cockpit. The only breaks he took were to check on Dust, whose paralyzed condition hadn’t changed. “Maybe I’m not up on my Mogadorian biology, but I was pretty sure you guys needed to do that.”
Adam brushes some hair out of his eyes, trying to focus on me. “Yeah, Six, we sleep. When it’s convenient.”
“You’re going to push yourself to exhaustion and then what’ll you be good for?” I ask.
Adam frowns at me. “Same thing I’m good for now,” he says, glancing at the collection of trashed parts in front of him. “I hear you, Six. I’m fine. Let me keep working.”
In truth, I’m glad Adam is so devoted to his work. As much as I don’t want to see him hurt himself, we desperately need to get out of Mexico. There’s still no word from John. I’m afraid we’re missing the war.
“At least eat,” I tell him, yanking a light green banana off the bunch I just picked from a nearby tree and shoving it into Adam’s hand.
He considers the banana for a moment. I can actually hear Adam’s stomach growl as he begins to peel it. Food wasn’t something we thought to pack—we didn’t know what to expect when we came to the Sanctuary, but we definitely weren’t planning to get stranded. We didn’t bring the necessary supplies for an extended stay.
“You know, Nine had these stones in his Chest that, if you sucked on them, they’d give you all the nutrients of a meal,” I tell Adam, peeling my own banana. “Kinda gross, especially after you thought about where they’d been and how many times Nine probably reused them. But right now, I really wish we hadn’t tossed them down that well in the Sanctuary.”
Adam smirks, glancing over at the temple. “Maybe you should go back in and ask real nice. I’m sure that energy-thing doesn’t want Nine’s spit-stones.”
“Maybe I should ask it for a new engine while I’m at
it.”
“Couldn’t hurt,” Adam replies, and swallows the rest of his banana in a hurry. “I’m going to get us out of here, Six. Don’t worry.”
I leave a second banana on the table and let Adam get back to work. I cut across the airstrip, heading to where Marina sits cross-legged in the grass, facing the Sanctuary. I’m not sure if she’s meditating or praying or what, but she was in that spot when I woke up this morning and hasn’t moved in the time that I’ve been out scrounging the jungle for food.
I’d like to think it’s an accident that my route to Marina takes me by the Skimmer strut where Phiri Dun-Ra is tied, but I know it’s not. We’ve got her tied up securely in the middle of camp and have all been keeping an eye on her. I want the Mogadorian to say something, to give me an excuse. She doesn’t disappoint.
“He’s going to fail, you know.”
“Did you say something?” I ask, stopping and turning slowly to face her. I heard Phiri Dun-Ra perfectly.
Our Mogadorian prisoner smiles gruesomely at me, her teeth outlined with dried blood. Her right eye is swollen shut. I did that to her last night. After learning about the Mogadorian invasion, I got real tired real quick of her incessant cackling. So, I clocked her. Not my proudest moment, punching out a tied-up Mogadorian, but it felt good. In truth, I probably would’ve done more if Marina hadn’t dragged me away. As I stare at Phiri Dun-Ra, her good eye narrows in amusement. My fist clenches again. I want to hit something. All I need is a reason.
“You heard me, little girl,” she replies, jerking her chin towards Adam. Phiri Dun-Ra projects her voice enough that I’m sure he can hear, too. “Adamus Sutekh will fail, as he always does. You see, I have known him much longer than you. I know what a perpetual disappointment he was to his father. To our people. It’s no wonder he turned traitor.”
I glance over my shoulder at Adam. He’s pretending not to hear Phiri Dun-Ra, but his hands have stopped working and his shoulders are bunched up.
“You want to get knocked out again?” I ask Phiri Dun-Ra, taking a step towards her.
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