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“I think you should kiss him. It might be your last chance.”
“No way. We need to focus on the mission. I don’t need him to start thinking with his—”
Her green skin blushed so hard she looked like an unripe strawberry.
“You just try to keep your eyes on the goal,” I said.
Stari glared at me until her face returned to its normal color.
“Are you ready?” V’Sen said.
“She’s more ready than you’ll ever know,” I said.
The comment caught Stari off balance.
“Yes,” she said sweetly. “We’re ready.”
When V’Sen turned toward the opening, Stari slapped me on the arm.
I took a deep breath. This was it. The calm before the storm.
We weren’t going to get a better opportunity than this.
Or a riskier one.
We stepped into the sunlight and crossed the rolling dunes. I walked out front with dirt smeared across my cheeks and forehead, and my hands restrained behind my back. Stari and V’Sen followed, dressed in their hoods and looking every bit like the Changeling siblings they were mimicking.
The deep caves provided easy access to the rest of the section with their sprawling caverns. One brought us to the spot where we knew the Changeling Control Room was located.
We approached a blank stretch of land that looked unremarkable. No one would have thought anything was there.
But we knew differently.
The Control Room was right there.
The future of the Yayora depended on it.
Once we reached it, it would be up to how the Changelings in the Control Room reacted. Would they buy our disguises? Or would they twig us for who we really were?
I wished there was a third option.
9
CHAX
Iron Hoof was well-trained.
Too well-trained.
If it’d only been down to strength, I was confident I could take him. But he must have served in the military at some point or got special training because he always seemed to know where my next attack was coming from.
He blocked my attacks and used them against me. He didn’t beat me to a pulp. He didn’t need to. He took pains to ensure he avoided hitting me in the face.
That was for the benefit of the cameras. There was nothing an audience disliked more than having to stare at a bruised face.
“T-Minus two minutes,” Computer said.
She was my saving grace. My android angel.
