One of the trueborn turns to me as I enter. He wears a long, white lab coat. I’ve never seen him before, but that’s not surprising. I rarely mix with my trueborn superiors.
His eyes light up when he sees the humans bound up behind me. “A new delivery of specimens. How wonderful.”
He motions to a few empty metal tables. I place the targets on them.
“This girl definitely has telekinesis,” I tell him. “She put up a fight when we cornered her. You may want to keep her sedated.”
A grin crosses the trueborn’s face as he assesses the human.
“Perfect,” he says. “What is your name, soldier?”
“Vintaro Üshaba.”
He nods. “You’ve served Beloved Leader well, Vintaro. Your work will help us usher in a new age of Mogadorian Progress.”
Another trueborn steps up beside him.
“The ship is prepped and ready for the flight to West Virginia.”
“Wonderful,” he says, starting for the door. He points at the girl as he leaves. “And load her onto the ship. It sounds like she may be strong enough to survive Dr. Zakos’s procedures.”
CHAPTER NINE
I SLEEP SOUNDLY. SATISFIED.
I wake up hungry for more.
The vatborn barracks are in one of the warship’s lower levels, a giant room with a wall full of small sleeping units, just big enough for us to sit up in. They’re stacked one on top of the other, from the floor to the ceiling. Inside is a thin foam pad and a wadded-up spare uniform for a pillow. It’s all we need. I get only a few hours of sleep before an intercom near my head sounds a shrill buzz. Then a voice from the speaker orders me to report to the council room again.
I leap from my sleeping unit, whizzing past the seven below me, landing in a crouch. Then I’m moving through the ship as fast as I can, up the stairs to the higher decks where the trueborn eat, sleep and work.
How many targets will we get today?
My fingers twitch in anticipation.
Thank Beloved Leader for this glorious opportunity.
I’m the first to arrive in the council room, but the other two squad leaders from yesterday follow quickly. They’re as excited as I am to be seeing action.
“Did you bring in all your humans last night?” the vet with the missing teeth asks.
I nod.
“We lost one,” the other says, his dark lips grimacing. “A human was trying to fight us off and shot at everything that moved. Including our target.”
“Idiot weaklings,” the squad leader with the gap-filled grin grunts.
“Had to punish a soldier for it. He’d been toying with the human, playing around. Taunting it. I asked him, ‘What would Beloved Leader think if he knew that you’d gotten his prey killed?’”
“What did he say?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I think I’ve still got some of his ash on my uniform. Ask him yourself.”
The other leader burst out in laughter at this, slapping us both on the back. I tense up, gritting my teeth. I probably would have punished my own squad too if they’d done something so stupid. But this is no laughing matter. We’re here to complete a mission, to follow his orders. Not to joke around. His squad’s failure makes us all look bad.
But I don’t get a chance to comment on that fact. The doors open, and our captain walks in. Immediately, we’re all at attention. This time the reconnaissance officer trails after him. Her head is tattooed in weblike patterns and shaved except for a long, black braid sprouting from the base of her skull.
“Dr. Zakos was thrilled with the work the three of you did last night,” the captain says. His hands are clasped behind his back. “You may not be aware, but the doctor answers to Beloved Leader himself. You’ve brought honor to your names and to this ship. Well done.”
The three of us grunt and nod.
“Today we have a . . . more interesting task for you,” the recon officer says.
She taps on a tablet in her hand, and a video plays on one of the screens lining the walls. Humans in front of some sort of waterfall. Talking to the camera. Pointing to a blue stone.
“This video was uploaded to the internet just a few minutes ago,” the officer continues. “It’s a message for the Loric, but broadcast for anyone in the world to see. It’s possible we’re the first Mogadorians to pick up on it.”
“These appear to be four more ‘human Garde,’” the captain says. “I’m sending all three of your squads to collect them. Assuming they’re still there. Your secondary directive is to investigate the blue stone on the video. Take a laser cutter. Bring back a sample. If this turns out to somehow be Loralite, Beloved Leader will no doubt be pleased. We’ll give you some lead time before we share our discovery with the other captains. I want this to be our victory.”
“This is a big opportunity,” the recon officer says. “Securing the humans and taking control of a possible Loralite deposit will bring glory to you and our ship.”
“As you may have guessed based on the context of the message, it’s possible the Loric or their allies will be there. You’re to exercise extreme caution.” One side of the captain’s lips curls up a little. “And brutality.”
This is better news than I could have expected. Still, something doesn’t sit well with me.
“Sir,” I say, taking a slight step forward. My eyes are on the ground.
“Speak freely, Vintaro,” he says.
“If it’s possible the true Loric Garde might be there, should we not . . .”
I trail off, unsure of how to continue. It’s not my place to question the judgment or commands of my superiors.
“You’re wondering why we don’t send half the fleet to stop them,” the captain finishes my thought.
I don’t respond. It doesn’t matter—he keeps talking.
“Our orders are to secure Chicago. As soon as you’re en route, I’ll put in a priority-one request that I be allowed to send a more substantial amount of troops to the location where this video was shot: Niagara Falls. However . . .” He pauses for a few seconds. “High command has been slow to respond to requests for the last twenty-four hours. As you know, Beloved Leader is very busy at this moment.”
Hail our Beloved Leader! Forever may he reign!
The captain crosses his arms over his chest. “Now, if you do happen to run across the Loric while on this mission and they try to interfere, it would of course be your duty to take them out. And doing so would bring glory that would follow you for the rest of your life.”
My vision goes red. I hardly comprehend the rest of what the officers say. All I can think of is facing the Garde. Of taking out their leader, John Smith. How his arrogant face might look as my hands grip his neck.
And before I know it, the captain and reconnaissance officer are gone.
In half an hour, we’ve assembled and briefed our squads, loaded our Skimmers, and are flying towards Niagara Falls. I assign one of my men to pilot the craft while I triple-check our weapons and supplies, going over possible scenarios in my head. Once we’ve obtained the humans, should we delay our return? Wait around for the Loric to show? How long? And what if we’re not the first Mogadorians there. It sounded as though anyone could have picked up on this broadcast. If other squads from other warships show up trying to claim our targets, or take credit for killing the Garde . . .