‘We can definitely use this,’ Sarah says, and I can hear her already tapping out keystrokes. ‘What
are you going to do now, though? That ship looks huge.’
I glance at the chaos outside the window. ‘We’re going to try to end this war before it gets started.’
Sarah’s voice sounds concerned. She knows I’m about to tell her something crazy. ‘What do you
mean, John? What’s the plan?’
‘We’re going to the Mogadorian warship,’ I tell her, trying to sound confident about a plan that
seems more desperate the closer we get to that looming warship. ‘We’re going to lure Setrákus Ra
out. And we’re going to kill him.’
Our convoy has to stop ten blocks short of the United Nations when the traffic becomes impassable.
The streets are clogged with people trying to get a closer look at the warship. Some of them are even
standing on top of cars or, in one case, a stalled city bus. There are cops everywhere trying their best to restore some order, but I doubt they’re trained for first-contact scenarios; most of them are busy
staring up at the ship, too. The crowd is buzzing and there’s a lot of excited shouting.
Just a bunch of easy targets for the Mogadorians. I dread the moment those cannons along the sides
of the warship open fire on this crowd. I want to tell everyone to run, but that might just start a panic.
If anyone would even listen to me.
‘Move! Get out of the way!’ Walker screams as she gets out of the SUV. She’s got her badge in the
air, although no one’s really paying attention to her.
The agents from the two SUVs along with the cops Walker recruited back at the hotel form a tight
perimeter around me, Sanderson and Sam. Nine shoves his way in next to us, glaring at a group of
teenagers cheering encouragement at the spaceship.
‘Idiots,’ he grumbles, then looks at me. ‘This is nuts, Johnny.’
‘We need to protect as many as we can,’ I reply.
‘They need to protect themselves,’ Nine says, then shouts over the shoulder of one of our agents.
‘Go home, you morons! Or get some guns and come back!’
Walker glares at him. ‘Please don’t encourage the civilians to get armed.’
Nine gives her a wild look and keeps shouting. ‘It’s war, lady! These people need to get prepared!’
Some of the people around us have overheard, or maybe they’re just unnerved by the growing
police presence. I notice a few exchange nervous looks and people begin trickling back the way we
came. Walker grimaces at Nine, then slaps one of the agents on the shoulder.
‘Forward!’ she shouts. ‘We need to move forward!’
There’s still a mob separating us from the UN, and it shows no signs of really thinning out.
Walker’s agents and the cops start muscling through and we’re carried along with them.
‘Watch it, dude! No cutting in the line to get beamed up!’ shouts one bystander.
‘Holy shit! It’s the Men in Black!’ screams another.
‘Are they going to hurt us?’ a woman we pass yells at Sanderson, maybe recognizing him as
someone important looking. ‘Are we in danger?’
Sanderson averts his eyes and soon the woman is lost in the crowd. It’s slow going, even with a
dozen cops and agents bull-rushing ahead of us. These people need to get out of our way.
A wild-eyed guy with a scraggly beard who looks like the type to be waving handmade signs about
the end of the world barrels right into Agent Walker. She’s thrown off balance, and I reach out to
steady her. Walker doesn’t thank me – there’s fury and frustration in her eyes. Fed up with the crowd, she reaches for the gun holstered on her hip, maybe thinking she’ll fire a few shots in the air to clear the area. I stop her arm and shake my head when she glares at me.
‘Don’t. You’ll start a panic.’
‘This is already a panic,’ she replies.
‘Personally, I’d be panicking more if someone was shooting,’ Sam chimes in.
Walker makes an annoyed noise and goes back to pushing her way through the crowd. I elbow Nine
in the ribs. ‘Let’s help them,’ I tell him, adding, ‘But don’t hurt anyone.’
Nine nods and we begin using telekinesis to move people out of our way. Nine’s gentler than I
would have expected. We create a sort of telekinetic bubble around us, the nearby bystanders sliding
off it. No one gets trampled, and slowly the path starts to clear for Walker and the rest of our escort.
As we move closer to the UN, we come directly under the shadow of the Mogadorian warship. A
chill goes through me, but I try not let it show. There are flags of every nation planted in the ground on both sides of the road we’re pressing down, all these symbols flapping in a gentle spring breeze,
caught beneath the looming Mogadorian vessel.
Up ahead, I see that a stage has been hastily erected at the front entrance of the UN. There is a more organized police force there – both local cops and the UN’s private security. They keep people away
from the stage and from storming the entrance to the main building. There’s a concentration of press
up ahead, too, all of them with cameras eagerly swinging between the stage and the hovering
spacecraft.
I grab Sanderson around the shoulders and yank him close, pointing to the stage.
‘What’s the deal with that? What’s supposed to happen here?’
Sanderson grimaces at me but doesn’t try to wriggle away. ‘The Beloved Leader has a taste for
theatrics. Did you know he wrote a book?’
‘Reading is stupid,’ grunts Nine, more focused on the crowd.
‘I don’t care about his propaganda. Explain the stage, Sanderson.’
‘Propaganda, like you said,’ Sanderson replies. ‘Myself and some of the others from MogPro – the
ones our dear friend Walker probably had arrested – we were supposed to greet Setrákus Ra. He was
going to demonstrate the gifts the Mogadorians could offer humanity.’
I remember the state we found Sanderson in, all black veined and nearly keeled over, all strung out
on the Mogadorian’s so-called medical advancements.
‘He was going to heal you,’ I say, putting it together.
‘Hallelujah!’ Sanderson says, bitterly. ‘Our savior! Then, we’d invite him inside the UN for
discussions and, come tomorrow, a peaceful resolution would be adopted to allow the Mogs into the
airspace of every member nation.’
‘And that’s it,’ Sam says. ‘Earth would be surrendered.’
‘At least it would be peaceful,’ Sanderson says.
‘Don’t you think people would freak out?’ I ask Sanderson. ‘I mean, look around. Imagine what
will happen when the Mogs actually show themselves? Start walking around? Taking things over?
There’d be panic, riots – even with your bullshit diplomacy. How was your plan ever going to
work?’
‘Of course he thought of that,’ Sanderson says. ‘That’s how Setrákus Ra plans to identify the
dissidents. The problem elements.’
‘So he’ll know who to kill,’ Nine grunts.
‘That’s sick,’ Sam says.
‘A small price to pay for humanity’s survival,’ Sanderson argues.
‘I’ve seen the future under Mogadorian rule,’ I tell Sanderson. ‘Believe me. It’s a bigger price than
you’re willing to pay.’
Sam gives me a worried look and I realize how cold I must sound, like war with the Mogadorians
on Earth is inevitable, like there’s nothing we can do at this point to keep people from getting hurt. In truth, I’m not sure that there is a way to resolve this without bloodshed. The war is here and it’s going to be fought. But I need the others to keep up hope.
‘It doesn’t have to be that way,’ I add. ‘We’re going to stop Setrákus Ra before this goes any
further. But you have to help us.’