on the knee.
‘You’re feeling better, aren’t you?’ he says. He flips a few levers on the console and our ship’s
engines vibrate to life. ‘Come. Let us go take what is ours.’
With that, Setrákus Ra navigates the ship forward. We zip through the docking bay, past the rows of
Mogadorian warriors. They thump their fists against their chests as we go, shouting out gravelly
Mogadorian encouragement. We exit through the same passage as Five’s body. That part – seeing him
brutalized and then tossed aside like so much garbage – I’m glad to lose to the fog.
We descend on Manhattan. I can see all the humans gathered below. There are thousands of them
crowded in front of a fancy-looking set of buildings and its surrounding campus. I can make out a
stage down there, too. It’s all built on the bank of a gray, choppy river. I remember the Washington
from my vision, the smoky smells that choked the air. That will be New York soon. I wonder if these
people will throw themselves into the river when their city begins to burn.
The people below point up at our ship. I can hear them shouting and screaming out greetings. These
humans – the ones who came closest to the Anubis – they don’t think they’re in any danger.
It occurs to me that we’re traveling into this throng of people without any Mogadorian guards. I loll
my head towards my grandfather, wet my lips and manage to find words.
‘We’re facing them alone?’ I ask him.
He smiles. ‘Of course. I mean to elevate these people, not harm them. We have nothing to fear from
the humans. My servants on Earth have arranged for a greeting that I find more than suitable.’
He’s up to something, obviously. Probably already has this whole event planned out. I know it’s
unlikely even a crowd of humans this size would stand a chance against Setrákus Ra and all his
powers, but part of me hopes maybe one of them will see through whatever sideshow he’s got
planned and take some shots at the scary alien.
Of course, that would mean my death before they could stop Setrákus Ra. At this point, it seems
almost worth it. I feel whatever the Mogadorians injected into me crawling around beneath my skin. I
can’t endure any more of that.
The descent is over. We hover about fifteen feet above the stage. A nervous-looking older man in a
suit, some kind of politician, waits for us there. There are flashbulbs going off like crazy. I blink my eyes and try to keep from sleepwalking through this.
‘Come, Ella. Let us greet our subjects,’ Setrákus Ra says. He picks up his golden cane, the
obsidian Eye of Thaloc catching the light. I’m not sure why he brought that with him. I guess he
doesn’t want to face our so-called subjects completely unarmed. Or maybe he thinks it makes him
look noble – like a king with a scepter.
I stand up, slightly unsteady. Setrákus Ra offers me his arm. I hook my hand through it.
The door of our transport ship opens and a glowing staircase extends outward, creating a path for
us to the stage. The crowd gasps as we emerge. Through my bleary eyes, I can see dozens of TV
cameras trained on us. The crowd is hushed in amazement. What do we look like to them? Aliens …
aliens that look exactly like humans. A handsome older man and his pale granddaughter.
Setrákus Ra raises his hand and waves to the people. It’s a royal thing, courtly and showy. When he
speaks, his voice booms like he’s hooked up to a microphone.
‘Greetings, people of Earth!’ he bellows in perfect English, his voice firm and reassuring. ‘My
name is Setrákus Ra and this is my granddaughter, Ella. We have traveled a great distance to come
humbly before you with wishes of peace!’
The crowd actually cheers. They don’t know any better. Setrákus Ra gazes beatifically across all
their upturned faces. But when his eyes settle on the old man standing on the stage, I feel a tension go through his arm.
‘Hmm,’ Setrákus Ra says under his breath. Something isn’t right. The greeter isn’t what he
expected. Or maybe there were supposed to be more humans waiting onstage with outstretched arms.
Maybe there were supposed to be bouquets of flowers.
Undeterred, Setrákus Ra draws himself up a little taller and proceeds down the rest of the steps.
‘We have much to offer your people!’ he continues in his booming, charitable voice.
‘Advancements in medicine to heal your sick, farming techniques to feed your hungry and technology
that will make your lives easier and more productive. All we ask in return, after our long journey, is shelter from the cold of space.’
I glance over the crowd to see if any of them are buying it. I end up locking eyes with a young guy
in the front row, pushed up right next to some TV cameras, his dark eyes seeking mine. He wears a
hooded sweatshirt, long black hair spilling out from inside, and he’s tall and athletic, and –
In my condition, it actually takes me a moment to recognize him. Not so long ago, I balanced on his
shoulders and he taught me how to fight.
Nine.
Seeing him, knowing that I’m not alone, that all isn’t lost just yet – it makes me snap back to my
senses. The pain in my shoulder increases exponentially, like something is trying to crawl its way out of me. Whatever’s inside me doesn’t want me to use my Legacies. I ignore it and reach out with my
telepathy.
Nine! His cane! It’s how he changes forms! Get his cane and smash it!
A feral grin spreads on Nine’s face and he nods to me. My heartbeat quickens.
Next to me, Setrákus Ra’s posture has stiffened. My hand is trapped in the crook of his elbow. He
knows that something is up, yet he proceeds with the show all the same.
‘I expected more of them to be here on this momentous occasion, yet I see one of your leaders has
come out to greet me!’ Setrákus Ra extends his hand to the old man. ‘I come to you in peace, sir! Let
this cement the friendship between our two great races.’
Instead of clasping Setrákus Ra’s hand, the old man takes a step away. There’s deep fear in his
eyes, but it’s not run-and-scream fear. It’s cornered animal fear. The old man has a microphone of his own and, as the TV cameras swing in his direction, he begins to yell.
‘This man – this thing – is a liar!’
‘What –’ Setrákus Ra takes an aggressive step towards the old man, and I’m loosed from his
elbow. For the first time since I’ve been in his company, the Mogadorian leader actually looks
surprised.
Surprised and furious.
A murmur of uncertainty passes through the crowd. The old man shouts something else – I hear the
words ‘enslavement’ and ‘death,’ but otherwise I can’t really hear him. No one can. Setrákus Ra has
used his telekinesis to crush the old man’s microphone.
‘You must be confused, my friend,’ Setrákus Ra says through gritted teeth, still trying to salvage
this farce. ‘My intentions are pu –’
Setrákus Ra is suddenly knocked off balance. I know why. A telekinetic attack. I watch as his
golden cane is ripped out of his hand. Nine plucks it out of the air as he hops on to the stage, grinning at Setrákus Ra.
I sense movement to my left. I turn my head to see John also hop on to the stage. They’re flanking
him, just like we practised in the Lecture Hall. Peppered throughout the crowd, I see men and women
in dark suits, all of them slyly pulling firearms into view. The crowd is beginning to buzz as some
civilians – the smarter ones – begin to back away from the stage.
It’s a trap, I realize gleefully. The Garde are here!
Now, Setrákus Ra really looks surprised. And, dare I say, a little frightened.