United as One (17 page)

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.”

“I have faith in you,” I reply. “Worst-case scenario, we crash the thing into the falls. One less of them to worry about.”

“How many Mogadorians will be on that warship?” Marina asks, directing her question to Adam.

He gives me an uncertain look before answering. “Probably thousands,” he says. “To get control of the ship, we'll need to make it to the bridge.”

“And the bridge is where?” I ask Adam.

“Assuming we get in through the docking bay, it'll be at the opposite end of the ship.”

“Thousands,” Marina repeats.

“At least we're lucky that some are patrolling the surrounding area. Spreads them a little thinner,” Adam adds, although he sounds apprehensive.

“It's an
army
,” Marina says. She shakes her head. “That's crazy, John. Stealing the cloaking devices from under their noses was one thing, but taking on this many alone . . .”

“We won't be alone.”

With the vest strapped securely to my chest, I open up a zippered pocket on the front. Immediately, Bernie Kosar shrinks down to the size of a mouse. With a glance at his fellow Chimæra, Dust does the same. We left the rest of the Chimærae at Patience Creek with instructions to watch over the human Garde. I crouch down and pick up both Chimærae, depositing them safely in my vest pocket. Marina raises an eyebrow at me.

“So you've gone from thousands-against-three to thousands-against-five,” Marina replies. She clears her
throat. “John, I know what you're feeling—”

I cut her off with a wave of my hand and meet her eyes. I know that the odds seem bad. I know that I've seemed cold the last couple of days and maybe a little crazy, and I'm sure the vibe I'm giving off hasn't gotten any better since the dark dream I shared with Setrákus Ra last night. I can tell from the way they're all looking at me that I'm coming off a little unhinged. But even if that's true, I know I can accomplish this. I can feel the power coursing through me.

One warship isn't enough to stop me.

“You have to believe in me,” I tell Marina, keeping my tone measured, hoping that she can feel my certainty, see it in my eyes. “I know what I'm doing. I've got it under control.”

“Look,” Six says before Marina or Nine can register any more protests. “Adam and I will focus on getting the cloaking devices off the Skimmers without being noticed. Like the plan was originally. And John will concentrate on holding off the Mogs. If he happens to kill a couple thousand of them in the process, all the better. If not, we bail.”

Marina breathes out through her nose. “How will we know if you're in trouble?”

Ella raises her hand. She hasn't said much since yesterday, and I'm glad for that. The last time we talked, it was a bit too much to take in. The glowing spark in her
eyes is a little dimmer than it was yesterday.

“I'll check on them telepathically,” Ella says.

“And if we're in trouble, you'll hear me calling,” I add.

“Oh,” Marina says, her head tilted. “You can do that now.”

Lexa leans against the cockpit door, listening to everything we've said without comment. “I've got a second cloaking device installed on our ship,” she says. “We'll bypass the force field no problem, but you'll need to leave a door open for us.”

“It won't be necessary,” I tell her.

Six snorts. “We'll leave you an opening, Lexa.” She flashes me a meaningful look. “Better safe than stupid.”

“And bring some of the Canadians along,” Adam adds. He glances at me. “You know, if we do hit a snag.”

I double-check that everything is secured to my vest and that the cloaking device is active, then take one last look at the others. “We good?”

When no one replies immediately, I head down the metal ramp, off Lexa's ship and into the misty morning air. There's a squad of soldiers standing nearby, waiting to see if we'll need them for anything, the rest of their unit forming a loose and stealthy perimeter in the trees. It's still strange to me, being constantly surrounded by armed men and women who are expecting me to
command them. Or save them. I take a deep breath and tilt my head back, looking up at the gray sky and the pointy tops of the pine trees.

“You sure you know what you're doing?”

That's Six, next to me, her voice pitched low so the others won't hear. Adam trails a few yards behind her, still on the ramp.

“I have to do this,” I tell her, my voice quiet as well. “I need to know what I'm capable of.”

“You know it sounds a little suicidal, right?”

“I'm far from suicidal,” I reply grimly.

“Just remember, you aren't doing this by yourself,” Six replies, and pats me on the shoulder. “I know the feeling of wanting to throw yourself at the enemy until they break or you break but—”

As she speaks, a memory flashes to the surface of Six's mind with a force that's impossible for me to ignore. I'm still trying to master this whole telepathy thing. The most difficult part about it is letting the thoughts of others stay private. They just come rushing into my mind, unwanted, like this vision of Six standing in front of a gaping hole in the ground, wind swirling all around her, metal and rock debris tearing through the air. Across the gap from her is Setrákus Ra, fleeing and on his heels, pushing against her with his own telekinesis. And next to her . . .

Next to her is Sarah. She pulls at Six's arm, tries
to get her to retreat from the whirlwind of shrapnel around them.

Mexico.

I flinch at the memory—all this floods into my brain in less than a second—and Six stops talking to look at me funny.

“You okay?”

“I'm fine,” I reply, and brace myself telepathically, close off my mind. I need more practice with a lot of these powers, but there's no time for that.

Six frowns at me but doesn't press. She reaches into her pocket and produces an old-looking flip phone that she pops open to check the display. “What's that?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.

“Sam's attempt to mimic the cloaking device,” Six replies, holding up the phone. “He wants me to try it out before the battery dies.”

I didn't realize Sam had made progress with that. The phone doesn't look like much, but Sam's never let me down before. I touch the Mogadorian cloaking device hooked to my vest. “Should we use that instead of this?”

“Uh, let's not experiment while we're flying through the air,” Adam says, joining us. “If all goes well, we'll have plenty of opportunities to test Sam's device.”

Six nods in agreement and puts the phone away. I look between the two of them. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Adam replies.

Six eyes us. “How exactly are we doing this?”

It takes a little work to get us arranged. Six gets on my back in a piggyback position, her legs hooked around my waist. I hug Adam from behind, my hands locked across his chest. From there, Six is able to reach past me and put a hand on Adam's shoulder, in case she needs to take over and make us invisible. I feel BK and Dust squirming around in my chest pocket trying to get comfortable. We must look pretty ridiculous; I can see some faint smiles and raised eyebrows on the faces of the nearby Special Ops, and I'm pretty sure I hear Nine catcall us from Lexa's ship.

The embarrassment is only temporary because we quickly turn invisible.

“Are you doing that or am I?” Six asks.

“Better that we both do it,” I tell her. “I've only had the Legacy for a few days. I could make a mistake.”

“Oh, that's heartening,” Adam says.

“Don't worry,” I tell him. “It's really only flying that I'm still a little shaky with.”

“But we're about to—”

Before Adam can finish that thought, I launch us up in the air. It's not the most graceful takeoff. It's a lot more forceful than necessary; but it does the trick; and soon we're soaring above the treetops at high velocity. I remember what Five taught me—basically not to think
too hard about what I'm doing and trust my instincts. That means going fast and forward. Adam's hands grab my forearms hard, and I can hear Six laughing against my ear as the wind whips across our faces.

“This is so weird,” she says. “I feel like a ghost.”

“Let's hope not literally,” Adam yells back.

It's definitely strange: being invisible, flying through the sky, like we're the breeze itself. I wish I had more time, or maybe the capacity, to appreciate this. All I can think about is what's ahead, and soon that comes into view.

The steel-gray bulk of the scarab-shaped warship looms over Niagara Falls, casting a dark shadow on the rushing water. This warship isn't as big as the
Anubis
. But it is still a frightening sight to behold.

“There's the Loralite stone,” Six says. “That, uh, nondescript gray one down there.”

I glance to a patch of wilderness level with the start of the falls. I can't pick out the stone from this height, but I can easily make out the crowd of Mogadorians securing the area. I can also see the three downed Skimmers that were taken out by the human Garde. More of the little ships zip through the air around the warship, patrolling the nearby woods in slow circles. I fly us closer to the warship while looking down.

“John,” Adam says as I survey the Mog patrols. “John!”

I look up just as I first hear the vibrating hum of a Skimmer's engine. It's practically right on top of us, the scout ship headed back to the warship. The pilot can't see us, but he's flying dangerously close all the same. I bank us hard to the right and narrowly avoid getting clipped by one of the Skimmer's slender wings.

“Shit!” Six yells. Her nails scratch my neck as she almost loses her grip.

We do a barrel roll. The spinning disorients me, and for a moment we're plummeting towards the rapids below. My fingers loosen, and Adam slips a few inches away from me. I grasp him hard under the armpits.

Gritting my teeth, I stabilize us and get myself flying straight again. Everyone's holding on a little tighter now.

“Sorry,” I say.

“I take back any misgivings I had with your plan,” Adam says breathlessly. “If it means never flying with you again, I'll steal a dozen warships.”

The Skimmer that shook us up leisurely flies into the docking bay of the warship, the doors left open behind it. Despite the scare, that's perfect timing. I pick up speed, intending to get us through those doors.

As we near the warship, the force field finally becomes visible. You can't really see it until you're rushing right towards it. Once you're within a hundred yards or so, the air around the warship seems to bend
like heat lines rising from pavement on a hot day. I can make out a faint grid work of energy, like a net surrounding the warship, which gives off a faint red hue. It reminds me of the aura that surrounded the mountain base in West Virginia, the one that made me sick for days after I ran headlong into it.

“We're sure this cloaking device is going to work, right?” I ask, too late, as there's no way I've got the flying skill to put the brakes on now.

“Ninety-nine percent sure,” Adam replies.

We hit the force field.

And pass through it.

There's a faint buzzing in my ears and an electric vibration in my teeth as we go through the field, but otherwise we're fine. I glide us forward, slowing my speed so I don't crash when we enter the Mogadorian docking bay; and seconds later we're inside the warship, right as the Skimmer we followed touches down for a landing.

I keep us hovering for a moment so I can get the run of things. Even though Ella walked me through the
Anubis
, I've never actually been inside one of these ships. The docking bay is a huge, high-ceilinged area, with dozens of Skimmers arranged in neat rows. It seems they've only got a quarter of their fleet out searching Niagara Falls, and that's a good thing for us since we need those ships stationary if we're going
to dismantle them. Besides the Skimmers, there's not much going on here, just a lot of repair machinery, a few blaster racks and some fuel tanks.