‘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 supposed 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.’
1 6
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 …