The twins take seats a little behind and on either side of Lawson. They look like bodyguards. Hell, it occurs to me that most of the people in this room are armed and would protect a guy like Lawson before us. Besides the official types sitting at the table, there’s a bunch of straight-up soldiers hanging around against the walls, their rifles pointed down but still very much loaded and ready. I’m pretty sure we could take this whole bunch, guns and all, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a little concerned at being in close quarters with all this firepower.
On the wall behind Lawson there’s a huge touch-screen display with a map of the entire world. There are zones highlighted with ominous red heat signatures: New York City, Los Angeles, London and about twenty more. Those must be where Setrákus Ra’s warships are posted. Then, in the United States only, there are a bunch of green dots, much smaller than the warships but numerous. As I look closer, I realize that those dots all form loose circles around the Mogadorian hot spots. These must be the cells that Caleb was talking about, small but organized and ready to strike back.
When I look down from the display, I catch Lawson studying me. He’s been watching me take stock of his map. He gives me a little nod before turning his attention to the rest of the room.
“I think we’re about ready to get started,” Lawson announces, his voice casual but carrying, with a soft Southern accent. All the side conversations immediately cut off.
I glance around. Mark and Adam still haven’t showed up. I open my mouth to say something, but Lawson’s speech is already under way.
“For those of you who don’t already know me, my name is General Clarence Lawson.” The general clearly intends this for our group, since there’s no doubt in my mind all the military and government flunkies know him well. “Full authority has been granted to me by the president to coordinate the country’s response to the Mogadorian invasion.”
Lawson pauses and waits for a response. None of us say anything. Personally, I’m not sure what he expects from us. Our own introduction? I glance down the table and see John staring straight at the general, waiting for him to continue.
Lawson crosses his arms and clears his throat. “You let me know if I move too fast for you,” he says with a dry smile. “I’m not a man who wastes his words, and I don’t often find myself addressing matters of strategy to civilian teenagers, be they extraterrestrials or otherwise.”
“You won’t go too fast for us,” John says, his gaze unwavering.
Lawson nods once, then looks at the nonpowered humans in the room. “As for the rest of you, keep in mind that these young people have likely killed more hostile aliens than all the branches of our armed service combined. Respect that and respect their presence.”
I don’t know what to make of this guy. One minute he’s ragging on us for being young and the next he’s singing our praises at the expense of his people. Maybe he’s just one of those dudes who tries to keep everyone on their toes through constant negativity.
Lawson picks up a tablet device and hits a button. A countdown clock appears on the screen behind him, highlighted in red and in the negative.
“We are approximately ten hours beyond Setrákus Ra’s deadline for unconditional surrender, which included a demand to turn over all so-called ‘renegade’ Garde as well as LANEs. To our knowledge, only Moscow has complied with this ultimatum. The Russian government began arresting dozens of youths last night. Our agents report that many of them haven’t even manifested Legacies and are likely antigovernment agitators who the administration saw as an opportunity to get rid of while simultaneously placating the hostiles.”
“Something will need to be done about that,” John interjects. His voice is cool and authoritative.
“Agreed. Although humanitarian abuses by other governments will have to be back-burnered,” Lawson replies. “Frankly, we should consider ourselves lucky that only the Russians have kowtowed to the hostiles. We’ve been able to communicate with most of our international allies and are encouraging them to evacuate the cities threatened by warships while covertly organizing counterstrike forces in the event we can crack the Mogadorian shields. However, if Setrákus Ra executes his promised attacks—and they’re on the level of New York or Beijing—I’m not sure if these other countries will have the ability to stay the course. I think we can all agree that we’re up against a ticking clock. It’s not if Setrákus Ra makes good on his threats, but when.”
At the mention of New York, Daniela loudly clears her throat. John glances at her, then looks back at Lawson.
“What’s the situation in New York?” he asks.
“Same,” Lawson replies. “Mogadorian ground troops hold Manhattan, with our forces working triage and evacuation in the outer boroughs. Also not a priority at the moment, unless the warship returns.”
Daniela doesn’t react much to the news. At Lawson’s assessment, her lips bend in a tight frown, and she drums her fingers on the table in front of her, like she needs to get some aggression out. I wonder if she lost family back in the city. I wonder if they’re still trapped there.
“Are you tracking the Anubis?” John asks.
“We are. After attacking your people in Mexico, the Mogadorian flagship did not return to New York. Our recon shows it holding in West Virginia over a mountain in Hawks Nest State Park. Some MogPro agents who we’ve interrogated indicate this place is—”
“Yeah, yeah,” interrupts Nine, clearly bored. “Most of us have had the shit luck to be stuck in the place once or twice. It’s their big base.”
When Nine is done speaking, Lawson lets the ensuing silence linger. Behind him, the twins bristle at this breach of decorum. Lawson stares at Nine like he might an out-of-line cadet, but Nine doesn’t even notice. He’s right back to doodling explosions on a piece of US Army stationery.
“We’re aware of the base,” John says diplomatically. Or maybe just without any emotion. “We infiltrated it once before, but we’ve never had the resources to properly attack it until now.”
Lawson nods at that and seems about to respond. Before he can, I lean forward to look at Ella. Maybe she knows why he’s parked himself in West Virginia and hasn’t made good on any of his threats.
“Ella, why has Setrákus Ra stopped the Anubis there? What is . . . what is he waiting for?”
All eyes turn to Ella, although a lot of the military people look uncomfortable to be gathering intelligence from a preteen girl sparking with otherworldly energy. Ella looks equally uncomfortable with all the attention, and she emits a harmless flare of Loric energy when she opens her mouth to respond.
“Do you want . . . ?” She hesitates. “Do you want me to make contact with him?”
“Whoa, hold on—,” I say.
“Can you do it without him knowing?” John asks Ella. “Without putting yourself in danger?”
“I think so. If I’m quick,” Ella says, and then before anyone can protest, she closes her eyes. The glow emanating from her skin intensifies once again.
Everyone in the room goes silent, watching Ella warily. It’s a little bit like being at a séance.
“She’s a telepath,” Sam explains lamely, looking around at the baffled faces.
With a gasp, Ella opens her eyes. A whole lot of people jump, myself included. I can’t help it. Ella’s a little creepy.
“You okay?” John asks her.
She nods, taking a deep breath. “He almost sensed me,” she says, a note of pride in her voice. “His mind is busy. He was hurt badly.” Here Ella glances at me, and my stomach tightens. “His trueborn aides placed him in the vats to accelerate the healing process.”
“They use the vats to grow their soldiers—,” John begins to explain to Lawson.
“We already know about the vats,” he says, waving this off. “Do you have any idea when he’ll be done with . . . whatever he’s doing? When the attacks will resume?”
Ella shakes her head. “His wounds were almost fatal,” she says. “They would’ve killed someone without his augmentations.”
I feel a brief swelling of pride at that. Pride and a massive ache of missed opportunity. If I’d only hit him a little harder.
“We talking hours? Days? A week?” Lawson persists.
“I can’t be sure. More than hours, I’d guess, but probably not days . . .” Ella cocks her head, remembering another detail that clearly troubles her. “There are also others down there with him.”
“In the vats?” John asks.