United as One Page 7

  Noto rattles off a series of harsh noises. “It’s not so tough.”

  Adam laughs. “Your accent is getting better, but you just said you’d like a stomach filled with leeches.”

  Noto makes a face. “I thought I was asking for some coffee.”

  “I helped Noto make a list of key words to listen for,” Adam tells me. “‘Beloved Leader,’ warship call signs, ‘Garde’—any time he hears those words, he makes sure to flag the transmission.”

  “I’m recording everything in case I need to listen again,” Noto says. “Which I usually do.”

  “This is good. It’ll be really helpful to know what the Mogs are saying to each other,” I tell them, putting a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Don’t burn yourself out, though. We’re going to need you.”

  Adam nods. “I know. I won’t.”

  I say good-bye to Agent Noto, then lead Adam into the hallway where we can talk privately.

  “So, from what you’ve listened in on so far, what are the Mogs saying?” I ask him.

  “They’re freaking out about Setrákus Ra,” he replies. “Well, freaking out as much as Mog trueborns can freak out. There’s a lot of concern about why he hasn’t ordered the attack or made any announcements to the fleet, but they won’t outright question him because to do so is pretty much treason. Mostly, they’re like . . . ‘This is warship Delta, awaiting orders, requesting guidance from Beloved Leader.’”

  “That alone tells you they’re freaking out?”

  “Mogs don’t go around asking for orders, John. They do what they’re told. They speak when spoken to. They don’t passive-aggressively prod their Leader.”

  “And there’s been no response from the Anubis or the West Virginia base?”

  “Nothing,” Adam confirms. “Radio silence.”

  “Hmm.”

  The plan I’ve been formulating is a little crazy, a lot dangerous, and, you know, that doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it probably should. I mull over everything that Adam has told me about Mogadorian culture, in particular the likelihood of them descending into civil war once Setrákus Ra is dead. If they took out each other, that’d make it a whole lot easier on the rest of us. What if there was something we could do to speed that process up? To get the Mogs at each other’s throats before Setrákus Ra is even turned to ash? A little bit of psychological warfare.

  Before I can give that any more thought, Noto pokes his head out of the library and waves Adam over. “There’s a lot of chatter all of a sudden,” he says.

  Adam and I jog back into the room. I cock my head to listen to the transmission coming through, but it all sounds like angry barking to me. The Mogadorian who’s broadcasting sure is excited, though.

  Watching Adam’s eyes slowly narrow, I can tell this isn’t good news. After a few seconds, he turns to me.

  “John, we should get the others,” he says. “Someone’s made a terrible mistake.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  NEVER POST ANYTHING ON THE INTERNET. IT’S like Rule #1.

  Granted, all of us have broken Rule #1 at some point and ended up hunted by Mogs as a result. Because sometimes desperation outweighs your desire not to be stupid. It happens. No judgment.

  But man, it’s dumb to post things on the internet.

  The video, obviously shot on a cell phone, begins with a thunderous rush of water. A massive waterfall that I instantly recognize as Niagara Falls appears on screen. Whoever’s filming this is standing on a grassy outcropping level with the waterfall’s drop-off.

  “Oy, it’s bloody loud—!”

  The camera gets jostled as whoever’s holding the phone jogs away from the waterfall. In those few seconds of bouncing around, I’m able to pick out a few details: a blond girl who looks like she should be yodeling on a six-pack of imported beer stands near the edge of the cliff right next to a jagged protrusion of otherworldly blue stone.

  Loralite. A new growth, just like Ella said there would be.

  Before I can examine the stone too closely, the camera steadies and is turned around so we can look straight into the pockmarked face of a grubby teenage boy. He’s gaunt, with a Mohawk that’s bleached nearly white and patches of peach-fuzz stubble. He wears a torn-up denim vest covered in patches, a ratty tank top, and while I can’t see his feet, I can almost guarantee he’s rocking combat boots. Of course, I recognize him from the telepathic summit Ella held for us. He’s one of the kids who seemed most eager to heed John’s call to action.

  Even though he moved away from the edge, the kid still has to yell to be heard over the waterfall.

  “Hello, John Smith and super-friends! You out there? Nigel Rally here. We met at . . . uh. The thing. Found your bloody stones, and, y’know, it’s been a real laugh popping round the world and all, but at what point are you lot gonna come pick us up?”

  It doesn’t surprise me at all that these international Garde are lost and confused. John told them to come help us, and Ella explained that they could use the Loralite stones to teleport around the globe simply by picturing a location. But Setrákus Ra crashed our meeting before we could give them any concrete idea how to find us, which isn’t exactly an easy task considering we’re in hiding.

  “I ran into a couple of others while taking the tour, eh?” Nigel continues, and turns the camera to pan around his surroundings. “Wave to John Smith, protector of the world and absent Big Brother who has apparently forgotten to fetch us.”

  Behind Nigel, the blond girl I caught a glimpse of before waves. Next to her, there’s a stocky boy with a shock of brown hair who waves awkwardly. I recognize him immediately as the German from the meeting, Bertrand, the beekeeper who can control bugs. Also, standing a little off from the others is a frail-looking Asian girl who stares blankly into the camera before tossing up a halfhearted peace sign.

  “That’s Fleur and Bertrand,” Nigel narrates, “and over there . . . well, I think she calls herself Ran. Doesn’t speak any English that one, not since your mega-psychic bird with the glowing eyes stopped with the translating anyway.”

  Nigel flips the camera back around to himself.

  “So look, we’re at Niagara Falls, if you haven’t figured that out yet. I memorized as many spots on that map you showed us for five bloody seconds as I could, but I’ve never been to the States, so I had to bop around Europe for a bit until I met ol’ Bertrand. Picked up some other tagalongs on the way. . . .” Nigel blows out a sigh. “Lotta weird places on your map, John Smith. New Mexico? What the hell does that look like, eh? Stupid, I bet. Bertrand was here once for a family vacation, so . . .” Nigel lowers his voice. “If you read me, Major John, we’re waiting for a pickup. If not, well, I guess we’ll just start walking towards the nearest alien battleship and hope for the bloody best, eh? Cheers.”

  And with that, the YouTube clip ends. It’s attached to the comment thread on the video Sarah made introducing John to the world, and it’s already got a ton of likes and views. Nigel posted his video about three hours ago. Me, John, Adam, Nine, Ella, Sam, and Daniela are all huddled around a cell phone that Daniela swiped from one of the soldiers.

  We’re all crowded into John’s room. Before we started the video, I couldn’t help but make note of some of the grim details of John’s room. The bed hasn’t been slept in, and there are scorch marks on the kitschy wallpaper, like he punched the wall with his Lumen on. Nobody remarks on this, although Sam does raise an eyebrow when he catches me looking.

  “Dibs on Fleur,” Nine says as soon as the video is over.

  I elbow him in the ribs, and Daniela makes a face. “You’re nasty.”

  “I’m lonely,” Nine replies.

  “This video was posted three hours ago,” Adam explains, ignoring Nine. “I’ve been monitoring Mogadorian transmissions, and it seems like they’ve just picked up on it. The closest warships to Niagara Falls are in Toronto and Chicago. They’ll be sending in Skimmers.”

  “Posting on the web,” Nine says, clicking his tongue. “Rookie mist
ake.”

  “We’ve all been there,” I say. “So, the Mogs have a head start on us. Let’s get some jets and get out there.”

  “We want to keep this quiet, which is why we’re hiding out in here,” John replies. “Better if we do this ourselves without Lawson’s people knowing.”

  I give John a questioning look.

  “I’m not sure what his intentions are with the human Garde,” John elaborates. “Until we decide he’s on the level, I want our people to be the ones bringing them in. I don’t want to leave it up to Lawson to decide who’s ready to fight and who need his ‘protection.’”

  “Whoa, hey, what kind of intentions you worried about?” Daniela asks.

  “I don’t know,” John says with a sigh. “Compelled enlistment into a secret military organization? Who knows?”

  “You learn not to be so trusting of people in power when you’ve been through what we have,” I tell Daniela.

  She nods. “Sounds totally sketch.”

  “I’ve already reached out to Lexa telepathically,” Ella says, her eyes still sparking with Loric energy. “She’s getting our ship ready.”

  “Nice,” Nine says, and claps his hands. “Let’s go save some newbies.”

  “I need you to stay here with me,” John says to Nine, and immediately Nine’s face falls.

  “Aw, come on,” Nine replies. “What the hell for?”

  “You think I wouldn’t rather be out there fighting?” John asks, his tone resigned. “We’ve got preparations to make if we’re going to sneak our way onto a warship. I need your help with that. Six can handle Niagara Falls.”

  “You know it.” I grin at John, feeling as eager as Nine to get back out there and fight. I look around at the others. “The rest of you in?”

  “I should stay back and monitor the Mog communications. They don’t know we’re listening, so I’ll be able to tell you what their status is,” Adam says. “I’m also supposed to meet with Malcolm and some of the engineers about replicating the cloaking devices.”

  “I’m with you,” Sam says to me.

  “Me too, if that’s cool,” Daniela replies.

  “And me,” says Ella.

  That makes everyone pause. I watched Ella die just yesterday. I’m not wholly sure that she’s ready for combat yet. She must pick up on that vibe—probably because she can read our minds. Ella puts her hands on her hips.

  “If the Mogs get there first and these other Garde have to go on the run, I can track them telepathically,” she says, a note of defiance in her voice, which is still all resonant and Legacy-like. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Good enough for me,” I say.

  “Me too,” John adds. “Take the Chimærae with you.”

  “We’ll take a couple,” I say. “Not going to leave you guys without backup here in case something else goes down.”

  John nods. “Just make sure you’re packing enough firepower to knock out whatever the Mogs send.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” I tell him. “We’re gonna do more than knock them out.”

  Fifteen minutes later we’re in Patience Creek’s underground garage. Like the rest of this dusty hideout, the garage isn’t as sophisticated as other militarized places we’ve seen, particularly the ones augmented by Mogadorian tech like Dulce and Ashwood. Still, the garage is big and high ceilinged, with enough space to store a convoy of armored Humvees and a couple of tanks. I expect the domed ceiling itself to open up and a ramp to extend for an exit, but the old-school spies who built this place didn’t roll that way. Instead, there’s a huge tunnel dug into one wall, barely lit and nothing fancy, just thick sections of lumber holding back the hard-packed dirt. The tunnel’s wide enough to bring a tank through, and it leads to an innocent-looking cave a few miles away from Patience Creek. If the little bed-and-breakfast that hides all this is in the middle of nowhere, then the cave exit is to the east of nowhere. Basically, you’d never catch us coming or going.

  Lexa flew our ship through the tunnel last night. She managed it, even though it was a bit of a squeeze. She’s already got the ramp extended and the nose pointed towards the exit when we enter the garage.

  On our way here, we picked up two of the Chimærae from Malcolm Goode’s small laboratory. To hear them talk about him, most of the military guys think Malcolm is some kind of eccentric genius. Maybe he is, in a way. The bunch of random animals he keeps as pets haven’t done anything to dissuade folks from that notion. Even though Walker and her team know about Chimærae from our run-in back at Ashwood Estates, we’ve still tried to keep their existence quiet. You never know what some of these overzealous government types might get up to if given the opportunity to experiment on an alien life-form.

  We take Regal, whose preferred form is a hawk, and Bandit, who sulks around as a raccoon. The other Chimærae stay back with Sam’s dad, watching as he runs an unending series of tests on the Mogadorian cloaking device, trying to figure out a way to copy its frequency. Adam’s with him, making suggestions on what Earth-made technology might be able to match the signal. So far they’ve had no luck, and neither has the team of military engineers working next door to them.

  In the garage, Lexa comes down the ramp to meet us.

  “Good to go?” I ask her.

  “Just finished the diagnostic,” Lexa replies. “We pushed her pretty hard getting out of Mexico, and she took some shots from the Anubis. Old girl’s ready to fly, though.”

  Daniela shakes her head and stares at the ship. “I’m about to ride on a UFO,” she says.

  “Yeah, you are,” Sam replies. He flashes me a gentle smile, then leads Daniela and the Chimærae on board.

  Like me, Ella doesn’t follow them right away. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, glances at me with her flickering eyes and then trudges up the ramp. I hesitate until Lexa touches me on the elbow.

  “It’s all right,” she says quietly. “I . . . I cleaned everything up.”

  I nod at her. “So many bad memories on this ship.”

  “I know,” Lexa says. “When the war is over, you can help me destroy it.”

  I smile at the thought, both of wrecking this ship and of the war being over. I climb up the ramp, following a few steps behind Lexa.

  At the top of it, I pause to look around the rest of the garage. There are a handful of soldiers milling around down here, making sure the vehicles are all in working order. I know they’ve seen us. Some of them are even outright watching us. However, none of them show any sign of trying to stop us.

  Back at the elevator, I notice Caleb and Christian. They weren’t here when we first entered. Someone must have reported our presence, and those two came down to observe. They both stare at me, their expressions blank. I smile and wave, even though they kind of give me the creeps. They don’t acknowledge me at all.

  So Lawson knows something is up and that we’re leaving the base. Oh well. That’s John’s problem to deal with.

  Inside the ship, the passenger area is spotless. Using the touch-screen controls that cover the walls, Lexa extends some bucket seats from the floor, and everyone straps themselves in. Under the floor, the cots are hidden away—including the one where Sarah Hart breathed her last. My mouth suddenly feels dry. I hate being back here.

  I take the copilot seat next to Lexa while she powers on the ship. Sam comes up behind me and leans down, his hand on the back of my chair.

  “You okay?” he asks quietly.

  “I’m fine,” I say quickly.

  Sam looks over his shoulder as if trying to imagine the grisly scene that took place here just yesterday. He shakes his head.

  “I still can’t believe it,” he says. “I keep expecting her to just, I don’t know, pop up somewhere. Alive . . .”

  When Sam trails off, I turn to Lexa.

  “The Mogs have a head start on us,” I tell her. “We need to get to Niagara Falls in a hurry.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” she replies as she slowly amps up the power to the engines. “We’ll go
fast.” Lexa glances back at Sam. “You better get strapped in.”

  I put my hand on top of Sam’s. “Let’s focus on the people we can still save, okay?”

  Sam takes one last look at me before he retreats to the passenger area and puts on his seat belt. As soon as she hears his belt click into place, Lexa thrusts forward the lever for acceleration.

  “Here we go!’

  The ship zips forward into the tunnel. Aside from a whoosh of air, the takeoff is completely silent, the engines purring calmly even as we rapidly speed up. There can’t be more than a couple of feet of clearance between us and the walls rushing by. There are a few times where I swear I hear the ship scrape the tunnel. Lexa focuses straight ahead, handling the curves like she’s done this a hundred times.

  “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit—,” I hear Daniela muttering behind me.

  We round a gentle curve, and there’s the sky, a white dot at first that gets bigger and bigger as we scream forward. And then, with a release that feels almost physical, we’re out in the open air, gaining altitude, soaring first over a dirt road and then Lake Erie. I can’t help but let out a relieved sigh as we leave the claustrophobic tunnel behind us.

  “Fast enough for you?” Lexa asks with a grin.

  “Yes!” Daniela shouts from the back.

  “You could’ve waited until we got out here to really open it up,” I say, although I can’t help grinning back at Lexa.

  “Where would be the challenge in that?” she replies.

  Even with Lexa flying us at top speed, we’re still about an hour away from Niagara Falls. Once it’s clear that the course is set and we’re on our way, I unbuckle and pop into the back to check on the others.

  Much like the ride back from Mexico, Ella is curled up with her arms around her knees and her eyes closed. Interestingly, the Chimærae seem drawn to her, both of them huddled at her sides. I wonder if that’s because of the Loric energy flowing through her or because she just seems like she needs a bit of comforting.

  Across the aisle, Daniela watches Ella like she’s trying to make sense of her. She looks up at me as I walk over and nods in the younger girl’s direction.