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“We can’t expect all of them to fight. Not yet,” I agree. “It seems almost cruel to run up against Setrákus Ra at this point.”
“I always thought that about you Garde,” Lexa replies. “And you had years of training to prepare you, thanks to the protective charm. There’s nothing shielding these humans.”
Sam looks up from messing with the cloaking device. “I don’t know about the other leveled-up humans, but when we go against Setrákus Ra, there’s no way I’m sitting out.”
I decide maybe it’s a good time to change the subject. “What’re you doing down there anyway?”
He holds up the cloaking device. “I thought, with my Legacy, I don’t know—maybe I could talk to this thing. My dad and those scientists have been trying to duplicate the frequency. Maybe I can help somehow.”
If Sam’s right and he can use his Legacy to crack the Mogadorian cloaking frequency, then he’s got exactly the Legacy we need. That can’t just be dumb luck, right? It’s destiny.
I grin at Sam. “If you can figure that out, Sam, when this is over, I’ll make sure they build you a statue.”
Sam smiles back at me and then returns to fiddling with the cloaking device. I glance over my shoulder, back into the cabin, and again consider the humans we picked up.
Sam, Daniela, these others . . .
To me, it feels like we’re heading towards a final battle. But it doesn’t have to be that way for them. We could throw everything we’ve got at Setrákus Ra and still not be assured of victory. Or we could protect some of them, leave them ready to pick up the pieces if we fail.
I sigh. I wonder if this is how the Elders felt before they sent us here.
It’s not an easy thing, deciding how much to sacrifice.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I’M ON THE WAY DOWN TO MEET THE GROUP returning from Niagara Falls when I bump into Agent Walker. It isn’t so much that I’m surprised to see her trudging from one of the retro kitchenettes to one of the subterranean conference rooms; it’s that I’m surprised to see what she’s carrying.
A tray of Styrofoam cups filled with freshly made coffee.
When she spots me, Walker looks away, even though the hallway is empty and we’re bound to cross paths. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Karen Walker embarrassed.
“This is what they’ve got you doing?” I ask, trying to keep any trace of mockery out of my voice. Old habits are hard to break.
Walker grimaces. “How the mighty have fallen, huh? This is what happens when Lawson and his people want to discuss something sensitive. I get sent on an errand.”
“I don’t understand. Why would they want to exclude you?”
She snorts at that. “I was MogPro, John.”
“You were MogPro. You’re basically the only reason we were able to stop those people.”
“Once a traitor, always a traitor, is Lawson’s thinking,” Walker explains. “I don’t blame him for being cautious. Hell, I’d be in a jail cell, or worse, if I hadn’t helped track you down in New York. They don’t fully trust me, probably never will.”
“I trust you,” I say, though the words ring pretty hollow. “More than the rest of them anyway.”
“Yeah, thanks,” she says, waving this off. “Only reason I’m still around is because Lawson thinks I might be able to handle you. How little does he know. . . .”
I chuckle at that, and Walker finally allows herself a thin smile.
A few minutes later, in the hangar, I recognize the truth of what Walker said when I see the scraggly group Six leads off the ship. Four new Garde, two of them hurt, all of them staring around at the heavy-duty military presence like wide-eyed kids on a nightmarish field trip. They all look like they’d fall over from exhaustion if they weren’t so overwhelmed and terrified.
Marina and Nine stand next to me to greet the new arrivals. Six and Ella both look relieved and happy to see Marina up and about. Marina flashes them both a quick smile before rushing forwards, immediately pulling aside Fleur and Bertrand and tending to their injuries. If anyone could put these kids at ease, it would be Marina.
Nine opens his mouth to say something. I’m expecting one of his typical boisterous comments aimed at the skittish new kids. He reins himself in, though, and instead turns to me.
“This what you were expecting when you put out the call for fighters?” Nine asks me quietly.
I shake my head, not sure exactly what I was thinking when I suggested a bunch of untrained humans stand up and defend their planet from a vicious enemy with a track record of destroying entire worlds.
Nine puts his hand on my shoulder. “On our own as ever, bro. Forget the army; forget these kids. We do it ourselves. Like always.”
“They need our protection,” I say to Nine. “And more training than we can give them in twenty-four hours.”
Nine puffs out his chest a bit. “You let me think about their training, Johnny. I’m good at that kinda shit.”
“Come on,” Sam says to the humans, now that Marina is done healing them. “We’ll take you inside and show you around. Sorry to say, it’s as weird and Big Brother–y as it looks. But it’s safe.”
Nine and I watch as Sam and Daniela lead the four across the underground hangar towards the elevator. That’s good. They’ll probably find it easier talking to other humans than they would talking to me; Sam and Daniela can be like camp counselors in this bizarre new world they’ve landed in. I see the four of them stealing looks at me, especially the British kid, Nigel, and I force what I hope is a welcoming smile. He looks away. I wish I had another speech to give, but I don’t. I’m just about out of words.
Six walks over to Nine and me, her hands thrust into her pockets.
“How’d it go?” I ask her.
“Well, they took down three Skimmers’ worth of Mogs before we got there,” she says. “That’s no joke.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’. . . ,” Nine says.
“They don’t seem up for it,” Six concludes. “I mean, maybe if we had a couple of months or even a few weeks to train them. Right now, it’s all raw power.”
“What’s your problem with raw power?” Nine asks.
“I’m not saying they wouldn’t be useful, if you want to look at it that way,” Six says. “It’s just that . . . I don’t know. I can tell some of them wouldn’t make it. I know the Elders were cool with losing a few of us to protect the majority. Not sure I am.”
“Soldiers die; that’s how it goes,” Nine says, glancing over to the elevator. The new kids are just now piling on, and we all get a look at Bertrand’s butt, exposed from where he got sprayed with blaster fire. Nine sighs. “But those sure as hell aren’t soldiers.”
“I called them all to fight,” I say quietly, looking down at the floor. “I should’ve told them to focus on surviving. Like we did the first years. Now, instead, I’ve drawn them into a battle they might not make it back from.”
“I mean, only the ones dumb enough to listen to you in the first place,” Nine adds with a shrug.
“Their best chance of surviving long-term is still finding us and getting training,” Six counters. “What we need to do is make sure those Loralite stones you sent them to are safe and secure.”
At that moment, Ella wanders over to us. She’d been standing at the exit ramp of the ship, staring up at the domed hangar ceiling. “I can help with that,” she says.
“Ella knows where all the stones are,” Six reminds me.
Ella looks up at me. “Can we talk alone, John?”
I’d been planning to corner Ella when she got back anyway. I need her to teach me how to mimic her telepathy—being able to communicate with the others will be integral to everything we’ve got planned. Yet, for some reason, I get a real sense of foreboding when she asks to speak with me.
“Sure, Ella. Right now?”
“In a little while. I need to prepare something,” she says, then wanders off to the elevator. Mechanics working on the vehicles in the hangar stop what they’re d
oing to stare at the trail of Loric energy that sparks out from her eyes, how it floats through the air like a comet’s tail and then dissipates to nothing.
“What was that about?” Nine asks quietly.
I shoot Six a questioning look.
