We left Adam, Dust and Rex back in Niagara Falls, manning the warship as best they can with a two-person crew. They’re following after us, but in terms of speed, that mammoth ship isn’t able to keep up with Lexa’s little craft.
I hop back into the cockpit as Lexa hits a button that calls up a holographic projection of Adam in one corner of the windshield. He’s standing on the elevated commander’s platform of the warship, and, with nothing but emptiness behind him, he looks small and out of place. I expect him to ask if we’ve gotten any word from Patience Creek. However, as soon as Adam sees me, he starts pressing a button on a console in front of him.
“Guys, I’m going to patch a broadcast through to you,” Adam says gravely, in a rush. “This is going out live right now.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, confused. The idea that there could be something more urgent than what we’re rushing towards just doesn’t register with me.
“Every warship in the fleet is receiving this,” Adam says. “And from what I can tell, he’s hijacked every still-active satellite to broadcast to the remaining news channels as well.”
“Who—?”
Before I can finish my question, Adam goes to split screen. The new feed causes a hitch in my breathing, and I have to sit down on the arm of Lexa’s chair.
It’s Setrákus Ra. Alive and well.
“Have I not been patient?” he asks, his dark eyes staring directly into the camera.
The shot of Setrákus Ra is from the chest up. He sits in an ornate chair that’s best described as a throne. Behind him, I can see the stone walls of a cavern. He wears a bloodred silk shirt with the buttons undone halfway down his sternum. It’s a ridiculous look, but it’s also a message. A message for me.
There’s no scar on his chest. No mark. Nothing.
“My warships hold your world’s most important cities. It should be clear by now that your planet is finished. And yet, you still resist. . . .”
Setrákus Ra’s tone is even and condescending. Marina, Ella and Nine crowd in behind me as he drones on.
“Did he get plastic surgery or something?” Nine asks. “What’s with his face?”
I take a closer look. Setrákus Ra’s features are as sharp as ever, his head still shaved, the purple scar on his neck still puffy. He’s pale, dark eyed, and yet . . . he looks less haggard than when I last saw him. He doesn’t look so old or nearly so monstrous. He looks much closer to the young version of Setrákus Ra that we all saw in Ella’s vision.
“He can shape shift, can’t he?” Marina asks.
“No,” Ella says. “The staff he used for that was destroyed in New York City. This . . . this is something else.”
“Lorien,” I say. “It’s got to be from the Loric energy he stole.”
“I gave humanity an ultimatum,” Setrákus Ra continues. “Surrender unconditionally and turn over to me those humans infected with Legacies. Only the wise leaders of Russia saw the wisdom in my words. Only they understood that these Legacies now afflicting humanity are a disease, something passed on from an alien species driven extinct by their own hubris. They are a sickness that only I can cure.”
“I am not fucking extinct,” growls Nine.
Setrákus Ra puts a hand on his chest, like he’s feeling an emotion. “I understand how paradigm shifts can be difficult. I understand that acknowledging humanity’s subservience is troubling for the unenlightened. I am not a monster. I do not wish to see your cities razed, to shed blood needlessly, and so I allowed the deadline I set to lapse. I gave humanity time to come to its senses. I showed mercy.”
Setrákus Ra leans towards the camera, and I instinctually lean away from the screen.
“No more,” he says, his tone suddenly icy. “This transmission is being broadcast simultaneously to the captains of my fleet. My loyal followers, humanity has refused to embrace Mogadorian Progress. They must be shown the way. We will lead them towards enlightenment with fire and blood.”
Marina covers her mouth with her hand. Ella stares daggers at the screen. Lexa focuses on flying, pushing the ship’s engine beyond its breaking point. Nine’s fists clench, his knuckles cracking. I stare at the spot on Setrákus Ra’s chest where I struck, where I almost killed him. Not good enough. None of it was good enough.
Setrákus Ra takes a deep breath and bellows.
“All warships! Open fire!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
FIVE FLIES FORWARD AT TOP SPEED. HE HOLDS his blaster by the barrel, not bothering to shoot it. Instead, he wields the weapon like a club. He hits the line of Mog warriors like a whirlwind, caving in their skulls with his weapon’s handle. As he dusts one Mog, he grabs a second blaster from the Mog’s disintegrating hand. When one of the warriors tries to leap on his back, Five throws a vicious elbow, his metal carapace causing a resounding crunch. He shoves one Mog back with telekinesis, lets him bounce off the wall, then headbutts him to the ground.
I’ve never been so happy to see Five.
“Traitor! Beloved Leader gave you everything!” Phiri Dun-Ra shrieks at Five. She unleashes a fireball in his direction. Five ducks to the side—his bathrobe catches on fire—but the heat doesn’t harm his metal skin.
“He gave me nothing!” Five yells back, and flings one of his blasters end over end at Phiri. It hits her right between the eyes and knocks her off her feet. Dark blood coats her face, her nose broken.
If I was Phiri Dun-Ra, I would’ve caught that blaster with my telekinesis, no problem. I realize that just because Phiri is capable of stealing my Legacies, that doesn’t mean she knows how to use them. She’s lashing out with one Legacy at a time, trying to do the most damage while not playing any defense.
It gives me an opening.
With Phiri stunned, I wrap my hands around the Voron noose and yank it out of her grasp. I pull it over my head before any of her cronies can stop me. Most of them are too distracted with Five anyway.
Now I just need to get her piercing tentacles out of my back.
Phiri’s pushed herself up on her elbows, shaking off Five’s blow. I lunge forward from my knees and drive my forearm right into her throat, trying to cave in her windpipe.
She gurgles once and then reacts. I feel a tearing sensation in my back as Phiri’s tentacles lift me off of her. They turn me over and send me straight up, face-first into the ceiling and then back down to the floor.
I’m dazed, the wind knocked out of me, a tooth loose in my mouth. I’m still hooked to Phiri Dun-Ra. I can hear her coughing, as well as the dull, bludgeoning sounds of Five working his way through the vatborn squadron.
When my eyes finally focus, I notice the Thin Mog has edged closer to the fray. He cups his hands in front of his mouth and exhales another cloud of those spores he used to mind control Mark and the soldiers. In the darkened hallway, the only light Five’s smoldering robe, the spores look like a cloud of spiders.
“Five!” I manage to yell, tasting blood as I do. “Watch out! Don’t breathe those in!”
Five slams one of the last vatborn to the ground just as I finish my warning. He turns his head, confused, and sees the spores coming at him. His chest puffs out as he tries to hold his breath, but they’re already all over his mouth and nose. They move with a mind of their own, forcing their way up his nostrils and through his lips.
No. If they mind control Five, all will be lost. No one will survive this place.
I try to shove myself towards the Thin Mog, but Phiri’s tentacles are still digging into my back. I’m too weak.
The telltale black veins are already spreading across Five’s face. His grip loosens on his blaster, and his skin goes back to normal. His back arches as the burning robe comes in contact with his normal flesh.
“Yes . . . ,” the Thin Mog commands. “Don’t fight it.”
Five glares murderously at the Thin Mog. He’s frozen in place, though, his muscles twitching, out of his control.