“How are they tracking us?” Caleb and Einar asked this question in unison, then both glared at each other. Five snorted, amused.
“They aren’t tracking you,” King answered. “They’re tracking us. Foundation members whose identities you’ve compromised. Everyone got their futures read by that precognitive girl they’ve got.”
Einar snorted. “Salma? The one they dress up like a gypsy? She can only see what? Two hours into the future? We used to joke that she couldn’t see past her own eyebrow, and that’s who you people have doing security? Barnaby auctioning her off is one thing, but using her against us? Insulting.”
Caleb remembered the girl Duanphen had caught a glimpse of in the lobby. He started to say something, but King talked over him.
“I guess she’s been practicing since you went rogue,” King said. “Her readings aren’t totally accurate, but she gave us odds on you paying us a visit. Said we might want to change up our routines if we were above forty-two percent. Not sure how they came up with that number. If they’re tracking you, that’s how. They’re staking out your most likely futures.”
“What percentage were you?” Einar asked.
“Twenty-four,” King said with a chuckle. “I always did like a long shot.”
“Was she just here?” Caleb asked. “Salma?”
“No,” King said. “My reading was weeks ago. Guess my odds changed.”
Einar’s steely gaze bored into King, his fingers drumming on the table. Meanwhile, King had relaxed back in his chair, like they were old friends having a chat. The man was being way more cooperative than they’d expected.
But then, if you wanted to hide something from Einar, wouldn’t your best chance be to make him think he didn’t need to use his Legacy?
“He’s lying,” Caleb said. “This is too easy.”
Einar pursed his lips. “Damn it. I agree with Caleb.”
King held up his hands. “What do you mea—?”
And just like that, King’s body language changed. He stretched his arms across the table, bumping Einar’s plate in his attempt to grab hold of Einar’s hands. Einar recoiled and Five lunged forward to shove King back into his seat. The businessman, suddenly vibrating with panic, settled for grasping the sides of the table.
“You have to get out of here,” he told Einar.
“What did you do to him?” Caleb asked.
“I’m making him care about me,” Einar replied, straightening his cuffs and eyeing King. “I’m the center of his world now.”
“You’re my everything,” King agreed. “But I lied to you before. The Foundation’s psychic didn’t put me at twenty-four percent. It was ninety-four. And it was hours ago. They know you’re here, Einar.”
Caleb’s stomach tightened. He looked over at Five, the Loric scowling at King. “You should get the ship,” Caleb said. “We might need to book.”
“He’s right,” Einar said, standing up. “We shouldn’t stay here.”
“No,” King said. “You really shouldn’t. I lied about something else, too. I do know where Lucas Sanders is.”
Einar leaned forward. “Where?”
“He’s downstairs,” King said. “Inside my bodyguard.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
TAYLOR COOK
THE HUMAN GARDE ACADEMY—POINT REYES, CALIFORNIA
PEACEKEEPERS LINED THE PATHWAY LEADING FROM the Academy to their encampment, their weapons down, all of their eyes shining with varying degrees of awe, respect and fear. As she marched through their ranks, Taylor couldn’t help but square her shoulders a little bit. It was empowering, to be looked at like that. Kopano would’ve loved it. Even though those stares weren’t really directed at her, Taylor was at least adjacent.
“Mr. Smith!” A dark-haired Peacekeeper with a thick New York accent shoved through some of his fellow guards. Taylor braced herself, but he wasn’t armed. He came right up to John and insisted on shaking his hand. “I was in the city during the invasion. You saved my life, man! I always wanted to thank you. I joined the frigging Peacekeepers because of you.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” John said, patting the Peacekeeper’s shoulder.
“I don’t buy into this whole Inhibitor thing either,” the Peacekeeper blurted. “That’s probably why they’re transferring me out—”
“Give him some room, LaRussa!” one of the other Peacekeepers shouted. With a regretful smile, LaRussa sank back into the crowd. The escort John and Taylor had picked up out at the crash site marched them onward, deeper into what Taylor now thought of as enemy territory.
“You get that a lot?” Taylor asked, under her breath.
“Yeah,” John replied. “It never stops being awkward.”
Taylor turned her attention to the encampment. She’d been here before, once during her group’s ill-fated odyssey off campus and again during her supervised meeting with her dad. She remembered the squat metal buildings that served as bunkhouses and mess halls, the armory, the tall fences with their mounted security cameras and the incongruous picnic area and cabin set aside for family visitations.
What she didn’t remember were the tents. The canvas enclosures filled every space between buildings, the population of Peacekeepers in the encampment swelling to fill them. Taylor couldn’t be sure of the head count, but it seemed like there were at least five times as many soldiers stationed here than there had been during her last visit.
Well, Greger had promised them an army.
The Academy had cameras pointed at the Peacekeeper encampment. They would know if the soldiers made a move, but they weren’t capable of seeing the interior of the camp. She didn’t know there would be so many of them. When Taylor got back, she’d suggest to Nine that they sneak someone over the fence to plant some more eyes.
Assuming she made it back.
Taylor expected to be led to the building where the Peacekeepers conducted their official briefings. Instead, their silent escort brought them directly to a trailer in the middle of camp. Archibald’s private quarters. The thought of being in such a tight space alarmed Taylor more than being among all those Peacekeepers. Outside, at least John could fly them away.
“You can blast us out of here if this is a trap, right?” Taylor asked John as the Peacekeeper leading the way banged on Archibald’s door.
“I’m hoping not to do any blasting. We don’t want to set things off,” John said. Taylor gave him an exasperated look. “But yeah. We’ll be okay.”
They caught Archibald wearing a tank top and his uniform pants, dragging an electric razor across his cheeks. The old soldier had a good poker face, but Taylor noticed how his eyes widened a fraction to find John on his doorstep.
“Colonel Ray Archibald?” John began. “I’m—”
“I know who you are,” Archibald replied. “Malcolm told us you were on campus. Come to explain the Mogadorian scout ship you crashed into my Academy yesterday?”
Taylor bristled at Archibald calling the place his, but kept her mouth shut.
“I am,” John said politely.
Archibald turned to Taylor. “And you, Ms. Cook. Are you here to turn yourself in for processing? I believe you were paged around oh-nine-hundred.”
“Hell no,” Taylor replied.
“Good, then,” Archibald said. “Come on in.”
Archibald stepped aside and, in the same motion, dismissed the Peacekeeper escort. He wanted to be alone with them. Interesting.
The inside of Archibald’s trailer was as Spartan and clean as the man himself. The only decorations were a pile of books on counterinsurgency tactics and a stack of washed TV dinner trays by the sink. Otherwise, it looked like Archibald barely lived here.
“You’re lucky the Peacekeepers who brought you in are loyal to me,” Archibald said as he shut the door. “Most of the others here would’ve taken you directly to Karlsson.”
“What does that mean?” Taylor asked. “I thought you’re supposed to be head of security.”
“So did
I,” Archibald replied. He set aside his razor, found his shirt and started putting it on. “My position that we shouldn’t be antagonizing the Academy’s students and creating a dangerous environment hasn’t made me very popular. The Peacekeepers coming in on Greger’s orders are hard-line about enforcing Earth Garde’s new policies.”
“You know those policies are messed up, right?” Taylor asked, stepping in front of John. “People from the Foundation are manipulating Earth Garde.”
Archibald sighed. “I’m a soldier. Ultimately, I can only follow orders. And right now, after Switzerland, the prevailing attitude towards you people is that you’re dangerous weapons in need of regulation.” His eyes flicked to John. “I’d hoped you were here to bring me some good news.”
Taylor realized that in her eagerness to vent at Archibald, she’d pushed John into the background. She stepped aside and John gave her a grateful look.
“I’m here to inform you that tomorrow the Osiris, the Mogadorian warship at-large behind the moon, will descend at a safe distance up the coast from here.”
“Jesus H. Christ,” Archibald replied. “You know there’s a standing order to nuke that son of a bitch as soon as it’s in range?”
“Yeah, don’t let them do that,” John replied. “Thanks to the efforts of Taylor here and some other students at the Academy, the Mogadorians have agreed to surrender themselves and be relocated to Alaska. The war will finally, officially be over.”
“Just as a new war gets started,” Taylor murmured.
“Brief me,” Archibald said. “Tell me everything.”
Taylor sat back and listened as John unspooled the story just like he’d said. It was Taylor who had made contact with the warship while on assignment for the Foundation. It was Taylor who brought that information back to Nine, who contacted John. The Academy’s students had helped prepare John to negotiate with the Mogs and had ultimately contributed to their peaceful surrender. When the background was finished, John gave Archibald the coordinates for the warship’s landing.
John’s earnest way of speaking made the lie sound pretty good. Archibald looked at Taylor with a newfound respect. So what if she hadn’t exactly earned it? She deserved credit for trying to stop the Foundation, but no one at Earth Garde was going to give her a medal for that.
“I’ll pass along your report to my superiors,” Archibald said. “We’ll get the area secured and prepare transport for the Mogadorians.”
“And make sure they know we’re here to help,” Taylor added. “You know, if they’re not forcing us to get brain surgery at the time.”
“Okay, Ms. Cook,” Archibald replied. “Point taken.”
A walkie-talkie on Archibald’s kitchen counter buzzed to life. “Heads up, sir.” Taylor recognized the voice of LaRussa, the Peacekeeper who had gushed over John outside. “Static on the way.”
Taylor tensed. That sounded like a warning to her.
“What does that mean?” John asked.
“It means we better step outside,” Archibald replied. “Karlsson is on the way.”
Sure enough, a large group of Peacekeepers had massed in a semicircle in front of Archibald’s trailer. They carried a mix of weaponry—the electrified-collar cannons that Taylor had seen before, but also traditional shotguns and assault rifles. It was an ominous sight and Taylor immediately felt the urge to shrink back as she stepped outside behind the colonel. At least it was heartening that some of the soldiers’ eyes widened nervously when John emerged behind her.
Greger stood in the midst of the Peacekeepers, a corny smile on his overly moisturized face. The liaison had donned a bulletproof vest beneath his tailored jacket. Taylor rolled her eyes. If they were going to hurt Greger, it sure wouldn’t be with bullets.
“Colonel Archibald, I wasn’t aware of a meeting with our most esteemed guest,” Karlsson said, his eyes flicking at John.
“It’s a security matter,” Archibald replied coolly. “I was coming to brief you now.”
“Mm-hmm,” Karlsson replied. His smile widened as he looked at Taylor. “Hello there, Ms. Cook. I summoned you hours ago, but I suppose I shouldn’t expect a teenager to be punctual. At least you showed up, unlike the rest of your classmates.”
Faced with so many guns and soldiers, it took Taylor a moment to find her voice. She’d seen worse and deadlier in Mongolia. She wasn’t going to be cowed by a bully and his thugs.
“I didn’t come here for your bullshit processing,” she said, her voice intentionally loud.
“Then you’re in violation of the Garde Accord and—”
Taylor had been thinking about this moment since John first asked her to come with him. She’d been dwelling on everything that was wrong with Earth Garde and the Academy, everything that would need to be fixed. She hadn’t actually put any of that into words, though; she hadn’t rehearsed a speech or even consulted the other students. Taylor decided to wing it.
“Nope,” Taylor cut in. “You guys at Earth Garde have proven that you don’t have our best interests at heart, so we’re done with that whole Garde Accord thing until we get some changes.”
Greger chuckled. “You’re in no position to make demands.”
“First of all, we don’t want anything installed in our brains or other parts of our bodies,” Taylor continued, undeterred. “We want the guaranteed right to say no to any mission that Earth Garde sends us on—Earth Garde or any of its shady affiliate programs. Yeah, we know all about what you pulled with Ran and Kopano, Greg. That’s not going to fly.”
“Greger,” the liaison corrected testily. “This is ridiculous.”
Taylor didn’t stop. She was on a roll now. “Plus, we don’t want you guys deciding who’s ready to graduate or what kind of jobs they should do. We want like a . . . a . . .”
“A council,” John supplied.
“A council,” Taylor said. “You can have some UN representatives on it, but there should be an equal amount of Garde, too. Human and Loric. Dudes like you have proven you can’t be allowed to make decisions for people like me.”
“This isn’t debate club,” Karlsson said with a snort. “You don’t get to come out here and begin making demands. The world doesn’t work like that.”
Again, Taylor ignored him. Archibald was listening to her. So were the Peacekeepers. Her message would get back to people above Greger. Maybe people who could be reasoned with.
“Until our demands are met and the Garde Accord revised, we aren’t coming out of the Academy,” Taylor said. “You don’t scare us. And if you try to come on campus without permission, we’re prepared to defend ourselves.”
Greger’s lips curled back. “Young lady, you are pouring gasoline on an already combustible situation. Earth Garde has determined what’s necessary to protect humanity from your kind. Being firmly regulated will, in turn, make all Garde safer.”
He made it all sound so sensible.
“Bullshit,” Taylor responded.
“You’re only making matters worse,” Greger said. He turned to John, appealing to the Loric. “I’d hoped you were here to talk sense into Nine and the others. To lead by example. To receive your own Inhibitor . . .”
John’s eyebrows went up at that. Maybe he’d thought the Loric would somehow be exempt from Earth Garde’s new rule. After a moment, he pointed his thumb at Taylor. “No. Sorry,” John said. “I’m with her.”
“The Inhibitors are a compromise,” Greger said, his voice more plaintive now. “I know it seems invasive, but it’s for the best. Everyone will feel more comfortable—”
Taylor interrupted again. “I think I speak for every Garde when I say that we don’t give a shit about your comfort.”
“Uh, the thing is— You don’t speak for all of us.”
The Peacekeepers stepped aside to allow Melanie Jackson to step through their ranks. The blond-haired poster girl for Earth Garde looked a lot better than the last time Taylor saw her—covered in blood and mud, crying and shaking. She was back to her camera-
ready glow, dressed in a snug blue-and-white Earth Garde uniform. Melanie pinned Taylor with a look of mean-girl condescension that took Taylor back to high school.
And she wasn’t alone.
Walking up behind Melanie was the Chinese healer Jiao Lin who Taylor last saw working for the Foundation in Mongolia. She had traded in her Foundation-financed high fashion for a uniform identical to Melanie’s. Jiao smiled when Taylor noticed her and wiggled her lacquered fingernails.
“Damn, it’s so weird seeing you do this whole inspiring-leader shtick. When I was at the Academy, you were scared of your own shadow.”
That came from Lofton St. Croix. The lean Canadian hadn’t gotten rid of his matted, granola dreadlocks since joining Earth Garde, nor his smug sneer. His uniform didn’t fit as well as Melanie’s or Jiao’s, probably on account of the quills protruding from his forearms and shoulders. He could project those little spikes at will. As he eyed Taylor, Lofton snapped one of his quills off his arm and began picking his teeth with it.
“How’s Isabela?” he asked. “Still hot for me?”
“Okay, Lofton, we agreed you wouldn’t talk,” Melanie snapped, and Lofton held up his hands in response. She turned her attention back to Taylor. “I’m glad you’re here, Taylor. Honestly. Even if you’re all mad and stuff. We’re here to clear up some of the misconceptions about the Cêpan program and the Inhibitor chips. I’d like to come onto campus and talk to some of the students.”
“No,” Taylor said immediately. “No way, sellout.”
“I think everyone on campus understands what’s happening,” John added evenly.
Melanie made a pouty face. “Come on, guys. You’re being ridiculous. Don’t you think the students deserve to hear both sides?”
Taylor ignored her, turning instead to face Greger. “You’ve got our demands. Let us know when you’re ready to talk.”
“Are you going already?” Jiao asked.
The Peacekeepers shifted and Taylor felt an imperceptible tightening of the circle around her.
“Easy now,” Archibald said. Taylor got the sense that these soldiers listened to Greger instead of the colonel. He couldn’t help them.
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