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I don’t reply, mainly because the only solution I can think of at that moment, seeing Five in the enemy’s uniform, is to kill him. ‘Where’s he going? Follow him,’ I tell Adam.
Adam does. The camera follows Five across the runway until he reaches a ramp that leads on to the biggest spaceship I’ve ever seen, so massive that its entire bulk isn’t even picked up on camera.
‘Damn,’ I breathe, my eyes widening. ‘What the hell is that thing?’
‘Warship,’ Adam answers, a note of awe sneaking into his voice as he squints at the screen. ‘I can’t tell which one.’
‘Which one?’ Sam exclaims. ‘How many of those things do they have?’
‘Dozens? Maybe more, maybe less. They run on the old fuel of Mogadore and whatever my people managed to mine from Lorien. Not the most efficient things. And slow. When I got in trouble as a boy, my mother would threaten to ground me until the fleet’s arrival …’ He realizes he’s rambling and trails off, looking up at us. ‘You don’t care about this, do you?’
‘Maybe not the best time for reminiscing,’ I reply, watching as Five boards the ship. ‘But what else can you tell us about the fleet?’
‘They’ve been traveling since the fall of Lorien,’ Adam continues. ‘Mog strategists believe they’ve got enough firepower left for one last siege.’
‘Earth,’ I say.
‘Yeah,’ Adam replies. ‘Then, my people will settle here. Maybe rebuild the fleet if Setrákus Ra finds a reason.’
‘You mean if there’s any life in the universe left for him to conquer,’ I say.
Sam shakes his head, still marveling at the hulking warship. ‘So they have a secret weakness, right? Like how you can shoot that one spot on the Death Star and the whole thing blows up?’
Adam’s brow furrows. ‘What’s a Death Star?’
Sam throws up his hands. ‘We’re screwed.’
‘If they’ve been taken prisoner and are aboard that thing …’ I don’t finish the thought, mainly because a course of action just isn’t coming to me. Taking over a mostly abandoned Mogadorian base is one thing; finding a way aboard a massive warship is another entirely.
Especially when that massive warship is slowly rising into the sky. Maybe Sam’s right and we are screwed.
The three of us watch in silence as the warship climbs. Before it’s entirely offscreen, the ship’s carapace flickers and the whole thing disappears from view. Well, not entirely – the ship’s outline is still vaguely visible, as if the light around it is bending in strange ways. The distortion is almost like trying to focus on an object that’s underwater.
‘Cloaking,’ Adam says. ‘All of the warships have it.’
‘Hey, look at the tablet,’ Sam says. ‘Maybe everything isn’t totally depressing.’
As the now invisible warship floats upward, one of the dots on the tablet slowly pulls away from the others. Five’s dot. After a few seconds, it begins to flicker erratically across the screen. We’ve now got two Garde indicators bouncing spastically over the map.
‘Just like Ella,’ Sam says, furrowing his brow.
‘The warship must be returning to orbit,’ Adam says. ‘Which means …’
‘Ella is already aboard one of those things,’ I finish the thought. ‘They brought her up to the fleet.’
‘How are we going to get up there?’ Sam asks.
‘We won’t have to,’ Adam responds. ‘The fleet will come to us.’
‘Oh, right,’ Sam says. ‘Worldwide invasion. So we’re planning to just wait for that?’
I tap my finger on the tablet, pointing out the three dots still in Florida. ‘The plan is to get the others. They’re still there. We just have to –’ I stop myself when I look back at the screen. The runway is starting to move. ‘I thought you disabled the ship. Why are they moving?’
With a hurried series of keystrokes, Adam cranes the camera down. From this angle, we can see the crew of Mogadorians grimacing as they push the scout vessel manually towards the hangar.
‘I guess they gave up on getting it started,’ Sam observes.
One of the Mogs runs ahead to slide open the metal doors and there, caught out in the middle of the empty hangar, are Nine, Marina and Six. Sam lets loose an excited shout that he cuts off quickly, the harsh math sinking in, that there are three Garde where there should be four, and that Nine is carrying in his arms what is obviously a body bag.
‘Eight,’ Sam says, swallowing. ‘Shit.’
I turn to Adam, not ready to grieve yet.
‘Does this ship you’ve hacked have any guns?’
14
After a barrage of near-deafening blaster fire in the wide-open space of the hangar, the scout ship goes eerily silent. Marina and I crouch next to each other, both of us huddled behind the flipped-over metal table. We exchange a look – the table didn’t sustain even a single shot of blaster fire. In fact, it doesn’t seem like the ship’s turret came even close to hitting us.
‘Nice aim, dipshit!’ Nine shouts, laughing. He’s off to the side of the table, flat on the ground, half shielding Eight’s body with his own.
I poke my head out from behind the table. Between us and the scout vessel are a dozen piles of ash, formerly the Mogadorian mechanics. The ship’s gun turret is still smoking but hangs dormant now, not the least bit interested in us. Cautiously, I stand up. Marina joins me.
‘What the hell is going on?’ I ask.
‘Who cares?’ Nine says, hefting Eight’s body. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
‘Perhaps some kind of malfunction?’ Marina proposes, inching closer to the ship, which still blocks our way out. The three of us spread out, making sure not to stand directly in the path of the blaster.
‘It only shot the Mogs,’ I say. ‘That’s one convenient malfunction.’
All three of us jump when the ship’s cockpit opens up with a hydraulic hiss. There’s a burst of static from a speaker in the cockpit, and then a familiar voice rings out.
‘Guys? Can you hear me?’
‘John?’ I exclaim, not believing my ears. The last I saw him, he was in a coma along with Ella. I sprint to the ship and jump on to its front end, standing over the open cockpit to better hear his voice.
‘It’s me, Six,’ John says. ‘It’s good to see you.’
‘See me?’ I ask, then notice the small camera mounted over the cockpit entrance. It wiggles back and forth, almost nodding in greeting.
‘Dude, what happened?’ Nine asks, eyeing the cockpit skeptically. ‘Is your brain, like, trapped in a Mogadorian ship now?’
‘What? No, don’t be an idiot,’ John replies, and I can picture the look of annoyed amusement on his face. ‘We’ve taken over a Mogadorian base and used their tech to hack into this ship.’
‘Nice,’ Nine replies, like that’s all he needed to hear. He jumps effortlessly on to the ship’s hood, still holding Eight, and lands right beside me. Our side of the saucer-shaped vessel dips a little at his weight before righting itself, the landing gear whining. Nine kicks the metal hull with his heel, testing it out. ‘So this is our ride?’
In answer, the ship’s engine begins to vibrate beneath our feet. I look down into the cockpit – there are six hard plastic seats in there, along with a blinking dashboard covered in random Mogadorian symbols and a set of controls that look similar to what you’d find on an airplane. Not that I’ve ever flown one of those before, much less one made by Mogadorians.
‘We saw what happened in Chicago,’ Marina says, also climbing on to the ship.
‘Is everyone all right?’
‘Yeah,’ John replies quickly, then seems to reconsider. ‘They took Ella, but I don’t think she’s in danger yet.’
Marina’s eyebrows shoot up in alarm, and I can feel the cold start to roll off her. ‘What do you mean they took her?’
‘I’ll explain everything when you get in the air,’ John says. ‘First, let’s get you out of there.’
‘Sounds good,’ Nine replies,
and hops down into the cockpit, gently placing Eight’s body across a couple of the seats.
‘Uh, John, one problem,’ I say, following Nine into the antiseptic-smelling Mog ship. ‘How are we supposed to fly this thing?’
There’s a pause on John’s end and then a different voice responds, this one with a harsh accent that makes my shoulders tense.
‘I could fly you remotely, but I’m worried hacking into the ship’s computer might have damaged some of the auto-navigation protocols. It’ll be safer if you do it manually with me walking you through it,’ the Mogadorian explains quickly. Then, as if realizing we might be freaked out, the guy adds, ‘Hey. I’m Adam.’
‘The guy Malcolm told us about,’ I say, remembering that dinner conversation.
‘Don’t worry, Six,’ Sam’s voice interjects, and I can’t help but grin at the sound of it. ‘He’s totally not evil.’
