“So, first lesson. You’ve all got telekinesis, right?”
Nine strolls across the line of new recruits, awaiting their answers. I cringe when I see what he’s got in his hand. A semiautomatic pistol, likely borrowed, or maybe stolen, from one of the soldiers on the sideline. Nine twirls it around his index finger like he’s a cowboy in an old Western movie.
The new recruits all nod in response. Except for Daniela, they look universally intimidated by Nine in drill sergeant mode. They’ve got reason to be since, as soon as they answer, Nine points his gun at them.
“Cool. So who wants to try stopping a bullet?”
“Psh, I will turn your ass to stone, you point that thing at me again,” Daniela says.
Nine smirks and makes sure to aim away from Daniela. If I really thought he was going to shoot at one of the new kids, I’d step in. He’s not that stupid, though. I don’t think.
Nigel glances down the line of his fellow Garde. When it’s clear no one else is going to volunteer, Nigel steels himself and steps forward.
“All right, mate,” he says, tentatively holding out a hand in a “stop” motion as Nine points the gun at him. “I’ll give it a whirl.”
Nine grins. “That’s brave of you, John Lennon—”
“John Lennon was a wanker.”
“Whatever that is,” Nine continues. “I bet he had more common sense than your scrawny ass. Stopping bullets is some advanced-class shit that you’re definitely not up for yet. And anyway, if you’re fighting Mogadorians, which you can expect to be, those bastards use energy weapons. Can’t turn energy away with telekinesis. So what’s the smarter, safer, easier thing to do?”
“Disarm the enemy,” Caleb calls from the sideline.
Nine points at him with his gun-free hand. “Very good, weirdo twin number one.” He looks back at Nigel. “Give it a try. Pull the gun out of my hand.”
Nigel scowls like he’s annoyed at being lectured. All the same, he makes a grasping and jerking motion. Nine stumbles forward like his arm was tugged, but he maintains his grip on the gun.
“That’s decent power,” Nine says. “But you’re pulling my whole arm. Focus on the weapon itself. Be precise. Someone else want to try?” Nine glances down the line. He squints at Ran, the small Japanese girl staring blankly at him. “She understanding anything I’m saying?”
“She doesn’t say much,” Fleur responds. “But we think she understands.”
“Huh,” Nine says. He points the gun at Ran. The second he does, she whips her hand up, and the barrel of the gun crumples like paper, the trigger mechanism pinching closed on Nine’s finger. He drops the weapon with a cry.
“Hell yeah,” I say.
Nine flashes me a pissed-off look, but I can tell it’s all show. He’s as impressed as I am. He looks back at the group and nods. “That’s another way to do it.”
There’s a small commotion at the elevator as John, Marina, and Adam enter. Ella and Lexa follow a few steps behind them, along with a bounding Bernie Kosar. Last comes Dust, back in wolf form, looking much healthier than when I last saw him. Everyone comes to stand by me except for Lexa, who goes off to get the ship fired up.
It’s time to go.
Catching a look from John, Nine walks down the line of human Garde, handing out unloaded weapons. “Practice on each other,” he says. “I’ll be back later, and I expect your badass quotient increased by, like, tenfold.”
Daniela raises an eyebrow, looking past Nine to John and me. “What’re you guys doing? Leaving us here?”
John waves us over towards Lexa’s ship, and the whole group of us—humans and Loric and reformed Mogadorian—gather at the base of the ramp. Even Caleb and Christian join the impromptu huddle.
“We’re going to make a covert assault on one of the Mogadorian warships,” John says, his voice gravelly. He looks like he hasn’t slept at all. “Only myself, Six, and Adam will actually be boarding the ship. The others coming along will be strictly backup in case things go bad.” He looks at the humans. “You guys should stay here, hone your powers. We don’t need you on this one. It’s an unnecessary risk.”
Fleur and Bertrand look relieved. Daniela shakes her head and jabs a finger into John’s chest.
“I saved your ass in New York,” she says, pointing her thumb at the other humans. “And now what? I’m demoted to rookie with these losers?”
“You promised us action,” Nigel complains next.
John sighs. “Look, we’ve been doing this a lot longer than you. It was stupid of me to ask you to throw yourselves into the fray without proper training. Right now, the best thing you can do to help the earth is get stronger, get better. Your time will come.”
Nigel glances down at Bernie Kosar. “You’re bringing a beagle along.”
“They also have a wolf,” Bertrand points out. “May I ask why you have a wolf?”
“That little dog would have you shitting your knickers,” Nine says to Nigel.
“LANEs aren’t authorized to go on this op anyway,” Caleb puts in.
“Oh, piss off, Captain America,” Nigel replies. “I’m ready to fight.”
“Aw, kid,” Nine says. “You aren’t.”
“Look, here’s what John’s really saying,” I say, crossing my arms. “In the event that we all get killed, which isn’t totally out of the realm of possibility, it’s going to be up to you guys to save the world. So, better if you’re not there.”
“Nice, Six,” Marina murmurs, shaking her head.
Nine claps his hands. “Let’s do this.”
We leave the human Garde behind and board Lexa’s ship. Minutes later, we’re strapped in and rocketing out of the tunnel, taking the exact same course as yesterday.
Once we’re in the air, John stands up.
“There’s one thing I didn’t bring up back there,” John says. “I didn’t want the military getting wind of it.”
Everyone stares curiously at John. “What’re you talking about?” I ask.
“We aren’t just going to steal the cloaking devices,” John says. “We’re stealing the warship too.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THERE’S A PLATOON OF CANADIAN SPECIAL OPS camped in a patch of woods three miles south of Niagara Falls. They’re about fifty strong, built to move fast but also equipped with some serious firepower, including surface-to-air missiles. The warship we’ve come here to commandeer isn’t visible from where they’re stationed. They’ve made it a point to stay out of sight, for obvious reason. However, they’ve got a few scouts skulking around Niagara Falls, broadcasting back grainy footage of the warship hovering, Skimmers combing the nearby wilderness, vatborn troops on the ground inspecting the dormant Loralite stone.
They feed us all this intel as soon as we land and otherwise don’t interfere. I could get used to Canadian hospitality.
If things go bad on the warship, this small team of Special Ops will cover our retreat. Our survival, according to their commanding officer, is their only priority. They’ve been apprised of our “strategic value.”
All this is thanks to General Lawson. I guess sometimes it isn’t so bad to have the government in your corner.
In Lexa’s ship, parked now alongside the Special Ops Humvees, I buckle an improvised vest across my chest. A cloaking device is hooked up to the front, plugged into a battery pack hastily stitched at the small of my back. This is what’s going to get me on board that warship.
“You sure I can’t come?” Nine asks me for the twentieth time.
“I can only carry two,” I reply. “Six needs to come in case I screw up our invisibility, and Adam is obviously crucial to—”
“Flying your stolen warship,” Adam interjects with a shake of his head. I glance at him, catch him running a hand through his black hair. He looks skeptical. In fact, most of my friends have looked skeptical since I unveiled my plan to commandeer the warship. Adam continues on. “You know, I’ve only flown a warship in a simulator. It’s also not a one-person job. Not if you want weapons on line.”