“There she is,” I whisper, sparing us any further awkward conversation as Marina’s lantern comes into view.
“Good,” Adam says, sounding relieved. “Now we follow along and wait for Phiri Dun-Ra to take the bai—”
Adam’s interrupted by cobalt-blue blaster fire sizzling through the air, aimed right for Marina’s lantern. Even with all the jungle noise, I can hear Marina scream.
“Shit! Go!”
I release Adam’s hand and sprint through the jungle, using my telekinesis to shove aside the tangled branches and dense blockades of leaves. I’m sure I pick up a few scratches along the way, but that doesn’t matter. The creature sounds around me become loud with panic as I trample through their territories. I’m distantly aware of Adam running behind me, taking advantage of the path I’m clearing.
Up ahead, I can tell that Marina’s lantern has fallen to the ground by the way it throws crooked beams of light through the twisted tree limbs.
Running full throttle, it takes me less than a minute to knife my way through the jungle. I burst into the small clearing where Marina’s lantern is on the ground, just in time to see Marina running her hand over a blaster burn on her upper arm. She glances up at me as she heals the blistered flesh.
“Plan worked,” Marina says casually.
“You’re hurt,” I reply.
“This? Lucky shot.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, then look to Marina’s left where Phiri Dun-Ra glares at us from her knees. There’s a fresh trail of blood dripping through her mess of Mog tattoos and severely pulled-back braids, probably from where Marina clocked her. Phiri’s blaster is in the dirt next to her, out of reach and crumpled beyond use by a telekinetic attack. Her hands and ankles are bound in what I quickly realize to be shackles made from solid ice. Looks like Marina’s getting pretty good with her new Legacy.
Adam arrives in the clearing a few seconds after me. Phiri Dun-Ra’s look of hatred only intensifies when he shows up.
“You got her,” Adam says, and Marina nods, even smiles a little. “You’re all right?”
“I’m good,” Marina replies. “Now what should we do with her?”
“You should kill me,” Phiri Dun-Ra growls, spitting into the dirt in front of her. “The sight of a trueborn consorting with you Loric trash so offends my eyes, I no longer wish to live.”
“Hello to you too, Phiri,” Adam says, rolling his eyes. “What did you do to my Chimæra?”
Phiri Dun-Ra’s eyes light up. “A little trick I learned from the Plum Island scientists with blaster frequencies. Did your pet die? I didn’t have time to check its body.”
“He survived. Unlike you.”
“We aren’t going to kill you—,” I start to say, but Phiri thrashes in the dirt, interrupting me.
“Because you’re cowards,” she hisses. “Do you want to rehabilitate me like this one? Make me into another Mogadorian pet? It won’t happen.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” I say, stepping closer to her. “We’re not going to kill you yet.”
“Did you search her?” Adam asks Marina.
“She was only carrying the blaster,” Marina replies. The rest of Phiri’s outfit is the standard sleek body armor of a Mog warrior. There’s no room to hide a bunch of ship parts.
“Where are the conduits?” I ask her. “Give them back and I’ll at least make your death quick.”
Marina shoots me a quick look, her eyebrows upraised. I put off answering these questions before—what do we do with a captured Mogadorian and how far do we go to get what we need? Torture. The thought gives me a chill of revulsion, especially thinking back to my time spent being one of their captives. It feels like crossing a line, like something they would do to us. It’s different from killing them in battle, when they’re fighting back and trying to kill us too. Phiri Dun-Ra is helpless, our prisoner. But one Mog prisoner is useless and we need to get the hell out of this jungle. I know we shouldn’t sink to their level, but our situation is desperate. How far will threats take us? I wonder.
“Die a slow death, Loric scum,” Phiri spits back at me.
So, she isn’t going to make this easy.
Before I can decide what to do, Adam darts past me and strikes Phiri across the face with the back of his hand. She cries out and topples over onto her side. Phiri is stunned, I realize. She wasn’t expecting the blow. Maybe she was banking on the fact that Marina and I wouldn’t have the stomach for torture. Adam, on the other hand . . .
“You forget who you’re dealing with, Phiri Dun-Ra,” Adam says through clenched teeth. He slides onto his knees in the dirt next to her and grabs her by the front of her shirt, yanking her partially upright. “Do you think because I’ve spent time with the Garde that I’ve forgotten our ways? You know who my father was. Much to his disappointment, my marks were always highest in the non-combat-related subjects. But still . . . the General found ways to focus my training. Interrogation. Anatomy. Imagine how rigorously the General trained his heir. I remember well.”
Adam reaches one of his hands around Phiri’s head, digging his thumb into the space behind her ear. She screams out, her legs thrashing. Marina takes a step towards the two Mogs, giving me another look. I swallow hard and shake my head, stopping her.
I’m going to let this play out. Wherever it leads.
“I might not share your ideology, Phiri Dun-Ra,” Adam says, raising his voice to be heard over her screaming, “but I do share your biology. I know where your nerves are, where to hurt you best. I will spend the rest of the night picking you apart until you beg for disintegration.”
Adam releases his grip on Phiri, letting her fall back into the dirt. She’s panting, struggling to get in a deep breath.
“Or you can tell us where you hid the conduits,” Adam says calmly. “Now.”
“I’ll never—” Phiri is cut off, flinching as Adam stands up. He’s suddenly lost interest in her.
He saw the same thing I did. The way Phiri Dun-Ra’s eyes flicked towards a moss-covered log at the edge of the clearing. Adam walks over to the log while she squirms around in the dirt, trying to keep her eyes on him. On closer inspection, the log is rotten, hollowed out by termites. Adam plunges his hand inside and tugs out a small duffel bag. Phiri must have shoved the bag in there before attacking Marina.
“Aha,” he says, giving the bag a good shake. Inside, metal parts clang together. “Thanks for your help.”
Marina and I exchange a relieved look, even as Phiri screeches out her latest taunt.
“It doesn’t matter, traitor,” she says. “Nothing you do matters anymore!”
That gets my attention. I give Phiri a not-so-gentle kick in the back to make her roll over and look at me.
“What does that mean?” I ask her. “What’re you saying?”
“War came and went,” Phiri replies, laughing at me. “Earth is already ours.”
My stomach drops at the thought, but I don’t let it show. We have to get out of Mexico and see for ourselves.
“Are the parts intact?” I ask Adam.
“She’s lying to you, Six. It’s what she does,” he reassures me, maybe detecting a tremor of nervousness in my voice. He tosses down the duffel bag and crouches over it.
“What should we do with her?” Marina asks me. She focuses on Phiri Dun-Ra for a second, reinforcing the ice shackles that have begun to melt.
I’m considering my answer when Adam grunts, yanking on the zipper that appears to be stuck on something. When the zipper comes loose, something inside the duffel bag clicks, like a timer being armed.