“You kids get your asses down there,” Agent Truman ordered, pointing to the hangar deck. Behind us, the elevator hummed to life, and he’d already positioned himself in front of the closed doors to cover us. “Figure out how to wake that thing and get him airborne. This whole plan falls apart if we can’t get him back to his people so he can let them know we want peace.”
We didn’t argue. It wasn’t just Adam who needed us . . . who needed this to work. The entire world was banking on it.
Like the first time, when I’d approached the EVE, these ships responded to our presence—to mine and Tyler’s and to Adam’s.
Adam stirred as well, rousing again.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, when he opened his unusual glowing eyes and looked into first Tyler’s and then my own. You’re safe, I thought when I realized words were unnecessary.
You’re going home, Tyler added.
But there was something else there between us as well. Something coming from Tyler.
An awareness of everything he’d been wanting to say to me . . . everything he’d been holding back. Everything he felt.
I looked into his eyes, because he knew I was hearing him, his thoughts.
I forgive you, he said.
I let the sensation surround me. Cocoon me. And then I nodded, because there wasn’t time for anything more. Adam was ready.
A staircase descended from the hull of one of the spaceships; as if Adam had already decided which craft he’d fly. But he was weak, and unable to stand on his own, so Tyler and I hoisted him up, carrying him inside.
It took us a moment, but we managed to strap him to the seat. Only, then his head lolled to the side.
Tyler sat back and studied Adam. Even if I hadn’t been able to read it in his head, the worry was written all over his face.
“I know,” I voiced out of habit, because I was thinking the same thing: I wasn’t sure Adam was up to this.
It hadn’t only been his body that the ISA and their experiments had damaged, it was his mind too. He was still in there, I could sense and feel and hear him, but he’d withdrawn . . . a self-defense mechanism against all the torture he’d endured. Years and years of torture.
But the M’alue wanted him back. And now that was one of their conditions. Even after all the humans they’d taken and experimented on . . . all the ones who’d never come back . . . they demanded Adam’s safe return.
And the thing is, even if they hadn’t insisted, I was desperate to send him. He didn’t belong here. On Earth. He wasn’t like Tyler and me, with a lifetime of human memories and experiences to define him.
He was M’alue, plain and simple. Maybe they could undo the damage that had been done to him.
Before I could even form my own conclusion, I heard Tyler’s, and I shook my head, denying him. “No way, Tyler, it doesn’t make sense for you to do it. I’ve flown one of these before. I’ve been to their ship. I’ll take him.”
The truth was—and Tyler knew, even if I didn’t say it out loud—I couldn’t live with the idea of anything happening to him.
“And you think I don’t feel the exact same way?” he said.
“I’ll do it.” The gruff voice came from my dad, and Tyler and I both whirled to face him.
His head was poking up through the opening in the floor.
“Dad, no.” I didn’t say it the same way I had to Tyler, like his offer was a legitimate solution. Instead I blew him off. “You wouldn’t have the first clue.” I couldn’t keep the skepticism from my voice.
After Dr. Clarke’s breakdown, I saw my dad through a different lens. Maybe I’d been too hard on him. He’d already suffered so much . . . lost so much. And here he was, offering to launch himself into space . . . for me.
He came up another step or two. “You said yourself this thing practically flew itself. All it needed was a jump start.”
“Not exactly what I said.”
“But close enough,” he challenged. “I heard you, the thing was intuitive. That it read your mind.”
“That’s because I’m M’alue.”
My dad shook his fist at me. “Don’t you say that. Don’t you dare . . .” His face had gone all blotchy and red. “You’re as human as any of us.” I didn’t remind him he was the only true human here, everyone else left was at least half M’alue. And after taking a second to collect himself, he blew out a breath and tried again. “You said the ship seemed to know where it was going. Like it was on autopilot.”
I had to concede that point at least. I’d only been in control during takeoff. After that, the ship had had a mind of its own, navigating into space without me. “Still—” I started, but my dad cut me off.
“You can’t stop me, Kyr.”
I wanted to tell him that’s exactly what I could do. Didn’t he realize how strong I’d grown—ever since I’d gone up there, to that M’alue’s ship? Even being in Adam’s presence made me feel more . . . powerful.
I could, and I would, stop him if that’s what it took to keep him safe.