“Yeah, they frown on that.”
“Here, I’m sending you a present,” she said, tapping at her QComm display with both thumbs. “A playlist of my favorite Terra Firma battle tunes. I like to rock out when I’m knocking clocks out,” she said. “Helps with my aim.”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “Mine, too.”
A file transfer complete message popped up on my QComm a split second later—she’d somehow bypassed the security software, so it didn’t even ask me for permission before it transferred the songs onto my device. The music player opened, displaying her playlist—which, at first glance, appeared to be a mix of songs by only Joan Jett, Heart, and Pat Benatar.
“This should come in handy,” I said, grinning. “Gracias.”
“De nada.”
I asked her to show me how to do the file transfer trick myself. When she was done, I managed to successfully send her a copy of my father’s Raid the Arcade mix.
She scrolled through the track list for a few seconds, smiling and nodding.
“Hey, wanna hear some good news?” she asked.
“Yes please!” I said. “More than I probably ever have in my life.”
“I think I’m going to be assigned to help defend Moon Base Alpha from down here,” she said. “You know, provided they don’t attack Earth first. We’ve been running MBA defense sims nonstop since I arrived.”
I smiled—something I wouldn’t have thought possible a few seconds earlier.
“So you’re going to have my back, eh?”
She nodded. “Just give me the QComm ID number on your drone controller station,” she said. “I figured out a hack that will allow me to use it pinpoint your location, and tell me which drone you’re operating during combat.”
“When did you have time to do that?”
“I’ve been sitting here all day, exploring the QComm network between training sims,” she said. “The EDA set it up a lot like a traditional computer network, which made it really easy to figure out and use—that’s probably why they did it that way. So what’s your QCLID?”
“My what?”
“Your Quantum Communicator Link Identification number?”
I stared at the icons that ringed the edge of my display screen and shrugged.
“I have no idea.”
She grinned at me and rolled her eyes. “See that gear icon at the top right of your display? Those are your drone controller station settings.”
“Right,” I said, tapping it with my finger. “I knew that.”
She helped me navigate through menu screens until I located the twelve-digit-long numeric code she needed and read it off to her.
“Got it,” she said, as her fingers danced across one of the touchscreens in front of her. “Now I can keep an eye on you.”
“I feel much better now,” I said. And I did, too.
“You should,” she said. “I’ve got the skills to pay the bills.” She winked at me—all smooth, like a movie star. “And I’m to make sure you keep all of your pieces in one piece,” she said. “Until I get a piece. Get me, soldier?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I believe I do.”
Then I saluted, and it made her laugh—but a few seconds in, it somehow turned into a strangled sob.
“Fuck, I’m scared, Zack,” she said. She bit her lower lip—to stop it from trembling, I think.
“I’m scared, too,” I said, suddenly unable to meet her eyes—even through a screen. “My whole life, I always imagined fighting off an alien invasion would be some epic adventure. That it would be like the movies—humanity would triumph in the end.”
“Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” she said. “The pod people always win. That’s the smart way to invade—not this Independence Day/Pacific Rim–job crap.”
Her words brought me back to my conversation with my father, and the doubt he’d managed to instill in me during the course of it. Was he right? Would the Icebreaker save humanity, or only seal our doom?
“I don’t want to die for nothing, Zack,” Lex said, looking determined now. “Do you think there’s a chance we can stop them? All of them? That humans can survive this?”
I nodded my head way too enthusiastically.
“Yes!” I answered, way too quickly. “We have to.” I stopped my head from nodding. “Do, or do not, there is no try, and all that stuff.”
She laughed and gave me a smile.
“I’m really glad we met, Zack,” she said. She was twisting her fingers into knots in her lap. “I just wish …”
“Me too, Lex.”
She took a deep breath. “ ‘I must not fear,’ ” she recited. “ ‘Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.’ ”
I laughed and picked up the quote where she’d left off. “ ‘I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me.’ ”
“ ‘And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path,’ ” she continued. “ ‘Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.’ ”