‘Let me guess,’ I say, remembering the name from Mark’s website. ‘The old director was Bud Sanderson. Now secretary of defense.’
Walker looks momentarily impressed. ‘Right. You connect the dots, you’ll find a lot of people who negotiated with the Mogs ten years ago have done real well for themselves since.’
‘What about the president?’ Six asks.
‘That guy?’ Walker snorts. ‘Small fish. The ones who get elected, who give speeches on TV – they’re just glorified celebrities. The real power’s with the people who get appointed, who work behind the scenes. The ones you’ve never heard of. They’re who the Mogs wanted and that’s who they’ve kept around.’
‘He’s still the president,’ Six counters. ‘Why doesn’t he do something?’
‘Because he’s kept in the dark,’ Walker says. ‘And anyway, the VP is a MogPro guy. When the time comes, the president will either go along with the Mogs, or he’ll get removed.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, holding up my hands. ‘What the hell is MogPro?’
‘Mogadorian Progress,’ Walker explains. ‘It’s what they’re calling the, quote, intersection of our two species, unquote.’
‘You know, if you ever want a second career, I know a website you could write for,’ I tell Walker as I start paging through the documents in her file. There are specifications for Mogadorian blasters, transcripts of conversations between politicians, pictures of important-looking government guys shaking hands with Mogs in officer uniforms. It’s the kind of document dump a site like They Walk Among Us would kill for.
Actually, a lot of this stuff was already on Mark’s website. Could Walker have been the one feeding him information?
‘So your boss sold out humanity for some upgraded weapons?’ Six asks, leaning over the back of the couch to glare at Walker.
‘That sums it up. We weren’t the only country to sign up either,’ Walker continues, her tone bitter. ‘And they knew how to keep us on the hook, too. After the weapons, they started promising medical advances. Genetic augmentation, they called it. Claimed they could cure everything from the flu to cancer. They were basically promising immortality.’
I look up from the file, stopping at a picture of a soldier with a rolled-up sleeve, the veins on his forearm blackened as if his blood had turned to soot.
‘How’s that working out?’ I ask, tapping the photo.
Walker cranes her neck to look at the picture, then locks eyes with me. ‘What you’re looking at is one week’s withdrawal from Mogadorian genetic injections. That’s how it’s working out.’
I show the photo to Six and she shakes her head in disgust.
‘So basically they’re killing you slowly,’ Six says. ‘Or turning you into Mogs.’
‘We didn’t know what we were getting into,’ Walker says. ‘Seeing Purdy disintegrate like that, though … it opened some eyes. The Mogs aren’t saviors. They’re turning us into something inhuman.’
‘And yet you guys are still dealing with them, aren’t you?’ I reply. ‘I heard there’s people trying to go public on some captured Mogadorians, but someone’s squashing the story.’
Walker nods. ‘The Mogs claim their genetic augmentations will only get better with time. A lot of the good old boys in Washington want to stick it out and stay the course. They’ve never seen a human being disintegrate, I guess. Guys like Sanderson and some of the other high-ranking MogPro cronies, they’ve already started receiving more advanced treatments. All the Mogs want in exchange is our continued cooperation.’
‘Cooperate how?’
Walker raises an eyebrow at me. ‘If you haven’t figured that out yet, then I’ve definitely picked the wrong side and we are well and truly screwed.’
‘Maybe if you’d picked the right side years ago instead of helping to hunt down children –’ I catch a look from Six and check my anger. ‘Whatever. We know they’re coming. No more hiding in the shadows or the suburbs. They’re coming in force, right?’
‘Right,’ Walker confirms. ‘And they expect us to hand over the keys to the planet.’
Malcolm returns from the kitchen with two cups of coffee. He hands one to Six and one to Walker, the agent looking surprised but grateful.
‘Excuse me, but how will that work?’ Malcolm says. ‘In a first-contact situation, there’s certain to be widespread panic.’
‘Plus, they look like pasty-faced freaks,’ Six adds. ‘People are gonna lose their shit.’
‘Don’t be so sure about that,’ Walker replies, and gestures with her mug to the folder I’m still holding. After flipping through a couple more pages, I come to a set of photographs. Two guys in suits are eating lunch in a fancy restaurant. The first is a guy in his late sixties with thinning gray hair and a face like an owl I recognize from Mark’s website; he’s Bud Sanderson, the secretary of defense. The other, a handsome middle-aged guy who looks vaguely like a movie star, I’ve never seen before. There’s something hanging around his neck, mostly hidden by his suit and the bad camera angle. It stirs some recognition in me, so I hold the picture out to Walker.
‘I know Sanderson,’ I say. ‘Who’s this other guy?’
Walker raises an eyebrow at me. ‘What? You don’t recognize him? I’m not surprised. Guy has a couple of different looks, apparently. Me, I didn’t recognize him when he was destroying you kids at Dulce Base, big as a goddamn house, with some flaming whip. Actually, I guess that was about the time I decided MogPro wasn’t for me.’
My eyes widen and I take another look at the picture. The actual pendants are hidden beneath his suit coat, but the man clearly wears three chains around his neck. ‘You’re kidding me.’
‘Setrákus Ra,’ Walker says, shaking her head. ‘Sealing the deal for Mogadorian-human peace.’
Six comes around the couch to take the picture from me. ‘Damn shape shifter,’ she says. ‘He’s been doing all this while we’ve been on the run. Setting all this up while we scrambled around.’
‘He might be ahead, but it isn’t over,’ Malcolm says.
‘Well, that’s some heartening optimism,’ Walker says, and sips her coffee. ‘But it will be over in two days.’
‘What happens then?’ I ask.
‘The UN convenes,’ Walker explains. ‘Conveniently, the president won’t be able to make it, so Sanderson will appear in his stead. He’ll be there to introduce Setrákus Ra to the world. A nice bit of political theater about how the sweet little aliens mean us no harm. There will be a motion to allow the Mogadorian fleet safe passage on to Earth, let them dock here, be good neighbors in the intergalactic community. The world leaders he’s bought off already will support it. Believe me, they’ve got a majority. And once they’re here, once we let them in …’
‘We saw one of those warships in Florida,’ Six says, giving me a grim look. ‘They’d be hard enough to take down even with an army that’s ready for battle.’
‘But there won’t be a battle.’ I say, finishing her thought. ‘Earth won’t even put up a fight. And by the time they do realize they’ve let in a monster, it’ll be too late.’
‘Exactly,’ Walker says. ‘Not everyone in the government is on board with Sanderson. Of the FBI, CIA, NSA, the military – about fifteen per cent are for MogPro. Lots of powerful friends, they made sure of that, but most people are still entirely in the dark. I figure the Mogs established the same ratio in other countries. They know how many humans they need to control to get this done.’
‘And you’re what? The one per cent that’s fighting back?’ I ask.
‘Less than one,’ Walker replies. ‘It’s a lot to go up against if you don’t have superpowers and – what was that out there? An army of wolves? Anyway, my crew have been staking out Ashwood, waiting for a chance to strike or, I don’t know, do something. When we saw you take the place over –’
‘All right, Walker, I get it,’ I say, cutting her off and setting aside the file. ‘I believe you, even if I don’t really trust you. But what are we s
upposed to do? How do we stop this?’
‘Get to the president?’ Six suggests. ‘He has to be able to do something.’
‘That’s one idea,’ Walker says. ‘But he’s one man, and seriously well guarded. And even if you could get to him, explain to him about aliens and bring him around to your side? There’s still plenty of MogPro pricks waiting to stage a coup.’
I stare at Walker, knowing she already has a plan and is just stringing us along. ‘Spit it out. What do you want us to do?’
‘We need to win over the people who’re still in the dark. To do that, we need something big,’ Walker says, totally cavalier, like she’s talking about taking out the trash. ‘I’d like you to come with me to New York, assassinate the secretary of defense and expose Setrákus Ra.’
16
I watch from the observation deck as the warship approaches, at first just a dark speck against the blue Earth but steadily growing larger until it blots out the planet below. The warship slows once it’s relatively close to the Anubis – relatively because we could be miles apart up here, the vastness of space making depth and distance hard to figure. I’m far away from Earth. Far from my friends. That’s the only distance that matters.
A port on the other warship opens and a small transport ship pops into view. It’s white, perfectly spherical, like a pearl floating through space’s dark ocean. The little ship bobs along in my direction and I can hear a grinding of gears and a whoosh of decompressed air, the Anubis’s own docking bay, right beneath my feet, preparing to accept the visitor.
‘At last,’ Setrákus Ra says, and squeezes my shoulder. He sounds excited about this new arrival, a wide smile on his stolen, human face. We stand side by side on the observation deck right above the docking bay, rows of scout ships and a smaller collection of the orb-shaped transports anchored below us.
We’re awaiting my ‘betrothed.’ Even thinking the word makes me want to vomit. Setrákus Ra’s hand resting all fatherly on my shoulder makes it all the worse.
I keep my face completely neutral. I’m getting better at hiding my emotions. I’m determined not to give anything more away to this monster. I pretend like I’m excited, too, maybe just a little nervous. Let him think that he’s worn me down or that I’ve checked out. Let him think my lessons in Mogadorian Progress are taking effect, that I’m becoming the ghostly version of myself that I was in my vision of the future.
Sooner or later, I know, I’ll be able to escape. Or I’ll die trying.
I turn away from the window and gaze down from the observatory’s balcony, watching as the ship arrives at our docking bay doors. Lights flash below, warning any Mogs that they’ll be sucked into space if they don’t clear the area. Setrákus Ra already took care of them, sending the Mog technicians away so that we could greet this new arrival in private. The heavy doors open and I can feel the pull of space even through the observatory’s closed airlock; the pressure changes, like water coming unclogged from my ear. Then, the transport ship glides aboard, the doors seal behind it and everything is quiet again.
‘Come,’ Setrákus Ra commands, striding out from the observatory, through the now-open airlock and down the spiral staircase that leads to the docking bay. I follow along obediently at his heels, footsteps echoing on the metal deck as we pass between the rows of scout ships. Cautiously, not wanting to look too interested, I peer around Setrákus Ra to catch a glimpse of the ship as it opens up. I’m expecting one of the younger Mogadorian trueborn, some high-ranking up-and-comer hand selected by Setrákus Ra, like the ones I’ve seen nervously delivering status reports to their ‘Beloved Leader.’
Try as I might to keep cool, I still can’t help emitting a little gasp when Five steps out of the ship.
Setrákus Ra looks back at me. ‘You two are already acquainted, yes?’
One of Five’s eyes is hidden beneath a gross-looking gauze bandage, a smudge of dark brown blood in the center, the edges sweat stained. He looks ragged and exhausted, and when his good eye flicks towards me, his thick shoulders become even more slumped. He stops right in front of Setrákus Ra, his gaze downcast.
‘What is she doing here?’ Five asks quietly.
‘We are all together now,’ Setrákus Ra answers, and grasps Five by the shoulders. ‘The liberated and the enlightened, poised on the brink of absolute Mogadorian Progress. In no small part thanks to you, my boy.’
‘Okay,’ Five grunts.
I remember Five being in my vision – he was there to escort Six and Sam towards their execution. Six spat right in his face – but I guess I’d glossed over that part, more concerned with my disturbing connection to Setrákus Ra. Now here he is, receiving a pat on the back from the Mogadorian leader, the future already taking shape. And apparently I’ve been promised to him for whatever creepy ritual passes for a Mogadorian marriage. Right now, though, that’s not my most pressing concern. Because if Five is here, looking like he just got out of a fight …
‘What – what did you do?’ I ask, my voice squeakier than I’d like. ‘What happened to the others?’
Five looks at me again and his lips screw up. He doesn’t reply.
‘You gave them a chance, did you not?’ Setrákus Ra asks Five, but I can tell he’s speaking for my benefit. ‘You tried to show them the light.’
‘They wouldn’t listen,’ Five replies quietly. ‘They gave me no choice.’
‘And look how they repaid you for your attempt at mercy,’ Setrákus Ra says, brushing his fingers against the bandage on Five’s face. ‘We will have that repaired immediately.’
I take a surprised step backwards when Five slaps away Setrákus Ra’s hand. It’s a stinging blow, the impact echoing off the ships around us. I can’t see his face, but I can see the muscles in Setrákus Ra’s back tighten, his already rigid posture stiffening that much more. I get the sense of an immense bulk hiding inside that human form, just waiting to explode outward.
‘Leave it,’ Five says, voice shaky and quiet. ‘I want to keep it this way.’
Whatever rebuke Setrákus Ra might have been ready with doesn’t come. He seems almost taken aback by Five’s fervor to remain half blind.
‘You’re tired,’ Setrákus Ra says, finally. ‘We will discuss it further once you’ve rested.’
Five nods and takes a cautious step around Setrákus Ra, as if he’s uncertain whether the Mogadorian overlord will actually let him pass. When Setrákus Ra doesn’t try to stop him, Five grunts and slouches his way towards the exit.
He makes it about halfway there before Setrákus Ra calls after him.
‘Where is the body?’ he asks, stopping Five in his tracks. ‘Where is the pendant?’
Five clears his throat, and I notice his hands start to shake, at least before he makes a conscious effort to steady himself. He turns back around to face Setrákus Ra, who is looking towards the open ship, obviously expecting something to be waiting for him.
‘What body?’ I ask, feeling a tightness in my chest. When they ignore me, I raise my voice higher. ‘What body? Whose pendant?’
‘Gone,’ Five says simply, answering Setrákus Ra.
‘I asked you a question, Five!’ I shout. ‘What bo –’
Without looking at me, Setrákus Ra waves a hand in my direction. My teeth click together as he telekinetically shuts my mouth. It’s like being slapped, and my cheeks grow hot with anger. Someone is dead, I know it. One of my friends is dead, and these two bastards are ignoring me.
‘Elaborate,’ Setrákus Ra growls at Five, and even in his handsome human form, I can tell his patience is beginning to wane.
Five sighs like this whole exchange is a waste of his time. ‘Commander Deltoch decided he would watch over the body personally, and I didn’t want to question his orders. I found Deltoch’s remains right before we left. The Garde must have snuck in and escaped with their friend.’
‘You were supposed to bring him to me,’ Setrákus Ra hisses, his eyes burning holes into Five. ‘Not Deltoch. You.’
‘I know,’ Five replies. ‘He wouldn’t listen when I told him those were your orders. At least he died for his insubordination.’
I watch a dark cloud pass over Setrákus Ra’s face, wheels turning behind his stolen blue eyes, as if he knows Five is playing him somehow, the rage building up. I feel his telekinetic grip on my jaw loosen. He’s distracted, now focused entirely on Five. Before he can say or do anything more, I step between the two of them, raising my voice a little higher. This time, they have to pay attention to me.
‘What body? Who are you talking about?’
Finally, Five’s good eye lands on me. ‘Eight. He’s dead.’
‘No,’ I say, the word practically a whisper as I try, too late, to stop myself from reacting. My knees feel weak, and Five’s impassive face becomes blurry as my eyes fill with tears.
‘Yes,’ Setrákus Ra chimes in, and all the rage has been drained from his voice, replaced by something more coiled and sinister – his tone showy and overly congenial. ‘Five here saw to that, didn’t you, my boy? All in the service of Mogadorian Progress.’
I take a step towards Five, my fists clenched. ‘You? You killed him?’
‘It was –’ For a moment, it looks like Five might deny it. But then he glances quickly at Setrákus Ra and simply nods. ‘Yes.’
Just like that, all my effort to show no emotion around Setrákus Ra slips away. I feel a scream building up inside me. I want to attack Five. I want to throw myself at him and tear him apart. I know that I wouldn’t stand a chance – I saw the way he handled himself in the Lecture Hall, the way he can turn his skin to metal or anything else he touches – but I’ll do as much damage as I can. I’ll break my hands on his metal skin if it means getting just one punch in.
Setrákus Ra puts his hand on my shoulder, stopping me.
‘I believe now would be an excellent time for that lesson we discussed,’ he says to me in that same phony tone.