by Amie Kaufman
Deus, they’re very armed.
I glance across at Dex and Atlanta, who both have their hands above their heads, their expressions blank. What was their briefing for a situation like this?
I can see the man with the megaphone now. He’s in his forties, with a black mustache and a no-nonsense expression. Perhaps he saw me translating, because he speaks again. “Hablas español?”
“Hablo español, pero hablan inglés,” I explain, raising my voice to make myself heard.
He switches across to accented but flawless English. “All debris crash sites are the jurisdiction of the International Alliance.” I’d recognize him as IA even if he hadn’t just announced his faction—linguistics training is paramount for their forces, and even the soldiers are multilingual. “What are you doing here?”
We’ve been desperately fighting and hoping for the chance to explain to the authorities, but now, I find myself paralyzed. Where does one even begin answering a question like that? The story is so long, so unbelievable, that there’s no way I could hope to make a ground-level IA officer understand me. Well, it all began when my father came up with an alternate theory on the translation of the Undying broadcast …
I try a different tack. “The answer to that is incredibly complex, sir. We need to speak to someone senior within the IA as a matter of urgency.” Someone who’d know who I am—and that I was on Gaia.
He inclines his head. “Captain Mateo Abrantes,” he says. “IA.” His tone isn’t friendly. “And you’ll go through the proper channels like any other trespasser.”
I pause, trying to figure out how to say, No, I mean someone way more senior, when Mia takes her turn.
“We have an IA contact, a handler,” she says. “Our recruiter. We need to speak to her. It’s a matter of life or death.”
I eye Mia sidelong—the use of “her” gives me an idea of where she’s heading, and I’m not sure I like it. But if there’s one person within the IA who knows she and I have just come from the surface of Gaia, and that our story needs to be taken seriously …
Abrantes raises his brows. “Your contact’s name, por favor?”
“Mink,” she says.
“Charlotte,” I say, at exactly the same moment.
My heart sinks, as his brows go even higher. He’s not buying it. We can’t even get our stories straight on our contact’s name. And truth be told, her name isn’t Mink or Charlotte, the woman who recruited Mia as a scavenger, and me to play the unwitting bloodhound and lead her people through the temple to the ship that’s now orbiting the planet. Truth be told, we have no idea what her real name is.
Atlanta’s recovered, and at just the wrong moment. “We were only fooling.”
Captain Abrantes switches his attention to her. “With this?” His nod takes in the shuttle behind us.
Atlanta nods. “We don’t want to give anyone hassle. We saw it fall, we thought it’d be lixo from a satellite, but it’s real.” Her eyes are wide, her tone panicked. She has serious game.
This girl knows how to act. And though her English is sharply accented, so is his. And lixo is a word originally from Spanish, or Portuguese, or probably even Catalan, come to that.
I see the moment that he starts to buy it.
The moment that her version of events starts to sound more reasonable than ours. The moment it starts to slip away, our chance of convincing anyone with the power to stop the Undying that our planet is in danger.
“This is serious business,” he says. “This is not a place for children.”
“Yes!” The words burst out of me—I can’t help myself. “Yes, Captain Abrantes, it is serious business. This shuttle is from the ship in orbit. They are from the ship in orbit.” I’m jabbing a finger at Atlanta and Dex. “We have to—”
He cuts me off with a gesture, and the soldier beside him twitches his gun to indicate I should keep my hands still. “They’re just kids,” Abrantes says, looking Atlanta and Dex up and down. “And the IA operatives on Gaia’s surface verified that the ship was empty before launching it through the portal to Earth.”
“Except for us,” Mia breaks in. “We were on that ship, Captain Abrantes—how else do you explain this spacecraft landing in the middle of a field?”
Abrantes glances at the shuttle, which is still pinging and cooling after its descent through the atmosphere. “Space junk,” he says, although his voice carries the barest hint of uncertainty. “There’s been a lot more of it since the ship arrived. It’s knocking other satellites out of their orbits.”
“Does this look like a satellite to you?” I ask softly. “It has a parachute, for god’s sake!”
Abrantes’s brow lowers a little, and his eyes flick between the four of us.
Sensing, perhaps, that belief is starting to swing back toward me and Mia, Dex steps forward. “We’re very, very sorry, sir—we shouldn’t have come to spy the crash site. We pledge we’ll never do it again.”
Abrantes sighs and gestures to the soldiers, two of whom stow their weapons and move forward, reaching for restraints to take us into custody.
No. I’m not letting this happen. We didn’t survive all that time in hiding, survive all of Gaia, just to get home and have no one believe us.
Desperation flares, and in that moment, I abandon everything I’d do—and I do what Mia would do.
“My name is Jules Addison,” I blurt, voice cracking with intensity. Out of the corner of my eye I see Mia’s gaze jerk toward me, surprise stiffening her shoulders. “I was recruited by the IA to go to Gaia and lead them to the ship that’s now in orbit. If nothing else, you have to report to your superiors that you have Dr. Elliott Addison’s son in your custody.”
The soldiers hesitate, and I feel their eyes on me. I look like my father—I always have. But for my lighter skin and the difference in our ages, we could be brothers. And my father’s face is one of the most well-known in the world, following his humiliation at the hands of those who doubted the warnings he tried to give.
After a long, long silence, Abrantes lets out his breath in a sigh. “It certainly doesn’t look like a satellite, and you certainly do look like … Either way, we’ll be keeping you in our custody until we receive orders on what to do with you.”
It’s there. Doubt. I see it in the shift of his eyes as he looks at the shuttle’s parachute, in the uncertain glance at the four teenagers before him. And that’s all we need—for him to report our arrest to someone who does know that I was on Gaia. Someone who knows there could be some truth to what we’re saying.
We keep our hands up as the soldiers with the guns approach. I can see Dex eyeing what must be the self-destruct settings out the corner of his eye—he must want badly to incinerate the shuttle, rather than leave it for these soldiers to crawl all over. But the controls are out of his reach. There’s no way he’d get to them before someone stopped him, probably with considerable force.
He must draw the same conclusion. His expression is blank.
My gaze slides from him to Atlanta, and there’s poison waiting for me in her eyes. I can’t imagine IA detention played any part in their plans, whatever they were.
The four of us let them wrap zip ties around our wrists and pat us down, but despite the restraints, despite their rough handling, I can’t help but feel a wisp of relief wash over me, like a cool breeze on a still, hot summer day. As soon as someone more senior than Abrantes looks at our situation, someone who knows about Charlotte’s operation on Gaia and that we were there, they’ll know we’re telling the truth. Or they’ll know enough to take a closer look at the ship in orbit.
It’s only a matter of time now, and we’ve done our part. The authorities will know what we know, and the burden of stopping all this will be on their shoulders, not ours. Mia and I are safe. And soon—so soon I can almost feel his arms encircling me in one of his massive hugs—I’ll see my father again.
We’re home.
FOR ONCE, I DON’T MIND BEING GRILLED BY UNIFORMED OFFICERS. Or
being poked and prodded by a medical examiner, the inside of my cheek swabbed, my fingerprints taken. For once, I have absolutely nothing to hide. Not that I haven’t done anything wrong—I’m a criminal by every definition of the word—but my crimes are nothing compared to the intel we’ve brought back to warn our race that we’re all in danger.
My heart lightens with every detail I give them: being captured by the IA’s secret-ops division under Mink’s command amid the ice back on Gaia, how the Undying ship took off with us on board, the moment we realized it was a Trojan Horse, the plan we half uncovered involving aliens masquerading as human teenagers. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I thought I would die on an alien ship in orbit around a world that would never know what was coming for them.
Now—now they have a chance.
And I have a chance to go home.
The relief is so profound that I don’t even feel the flicker of sick dread at the thought of trying to sort out what to do about me and Jules. Right now, I’m invincible, and there’s nothing we can’t solve.
Jules is waiting for me by the time the uniformed soldier escorts me back to what looks like a holding cell, little more than three concrete walls and a fourth, transparent glass wall that allows for observation from the hallway. He leaps to his feet as we come into view along the corridor, and stands rigid as the guard swipes a card through a slot and opens the door. The guard ushers me through and into the cell, his movements jerky—a quick glance tells me his eyes are a little wild, the details of the story I told the officials leaving him more than a little shaken.
Good, I think, with great satisfaction. You should be freaking terrified. Welcome to my life.
When the glass door goes whooshing closed behind me, Jules’s eyes are waiting for mine.
Those eyes tell me everything. There’s a light in them I haven’t seen since we were first setting foot inside the temple on Gaia, what feels like years ago. My hope recognizes his, and in a rush I move toward him, and his hands curl around mine.
“Are you okay?” he whispers.
Smiling has been an effort for so long that the feel of my lips curving uncontrollably is like sun on my face after a month in shadow. “I am now. You?”
He gives a light grimace, and lifts one arm to show his wristwatch. “They took my SIM card,” he replies. “But at least all my pictures are still on here. And I don’t know where my journal is—I think it ended up back in the shuttle with my suit.”
I glance around the bare cell. “Where are Atlanta and Dex?”
“I haven’t seen them since they split us all up.”
I snort. “It’s an age-old interrogation technique. Divide and conquer. See if we all tell the same story.”
Jules’s grin is like air, and I soak it in. “It won’t matter what story they tell. The IA guys swabbed your cheek too, right? Checked your DNA to ID you?” His eyebrows lift.
I nod, and in this moment I know exactly why he’s asking. “Somewhere, they’re doing exactly the same to Dex and Atlanta. So they’ve seen what we saw, right? The blue blood’s probably just the beginning, there’ll be signs all over the place that they’re not what they seem on the surface. Do aliens even have DNA? Whoever checks them will be in for a shock.”
“I’m sure it’ll take some time to process them, but …” Jules’s fingers tighten around my hands, and he steps closer so he can press his forehead to mine. “Mehercule,” he breathes. “This is real, right? I’m not dreaming?”
My own heart’s asking the same question, barely daring to believe, because the weight of terror and exhaustion and hopelessness has been so great that I almost don’t know how to let it go. I almost don’t want to, for fear it could somehow come back and find me again. But I squeeze his fingers in return and whisper, “We made it, Jules.”
He takes half a step closer, and instantly the gentle warmth of relief shifts, an awareness of his body shifting against mine surfacing like a long-submerged ship from beneath the waves. He lifts his head from mine, but only so he can drop it to murmur in my ear. “My father,” he says firmly, in a voice that brooks no opposition, “is going to love you.”
I can’t argue with him. I don’t want to, not anymore. We’re just a couple of teenagers again—the weight of saving the world is back where it ought to be, with the governments and the armies and the world’s greatest minds. Finally, finally, we’re just us. And—especially as his hand slides around to the small of my back and pulls me close—I’m not saying a single word to shatter that.
But then another sound does it for me. The sound of someone clearing his throat startles us apart, like—well, like a couple of teenagers caught on the verge of making out.
A man stands just beyond the glass wall of the cell, watching us with the polite air of someone waiting for his opportunity to interrupt. Though he wears an ordinary—if expensive-looking—suit, rather than a uniform, he holds himself with the confident rigidity of a soldier. He’s not particularly tall or muscular, and his features are finely sculpted, almost feminine in their delicacy. Impeccably trimmed black hair and well-shaped eyebrows match a pair of intense black eyes, which are currently fixed on us.
“Good afternoon,” he says with exaggerated civility. He speaks with the faintest trace of an accent, though I don’t know what kind. “I am Daniel De Luca, IA Security Director for Europe.”
Jules’s arm goes rigid, but when I glance his way, his face is eager rather than daunted. He squeezes my hand in reassurance. “My name is Jules Addison,” he says. “This is Amelia Radcliffe.”
“Yes, so I’ve been told.” De Luca smiles an even, attractive smile. “Forgive my tardiness—it took some time to verify that you were, indeed, who you said you were. How are you? You’ve eaten?”
“We’re fine.” Jules takes a quick breath. “You can skip the pleasantries, Mr. De Luca—”
“Director De Luca.” The interruption is gentle, even friendly, but absolutely firm.
“Yes, of course.” Jules doesn’t sound chastened—if anything, he sounds encouraged.
Something about the Director’s manner sets off alarm bells in my head, but whatever it is, Jules isn’t picking up on it. He’s just eager, impatient even—excited by the fact that someone so senior’s been alerted to the situation.
Steady, Mia. The voice in my head has the tiniest trace of a British accent, and if I wasn’t so busy trying to order my thoughts, I’d be amused that my attempt to comfort myself sounds like Jules. You’ve been dodging death and doom so long that you’re just looking for problems.
“Director De Luca,” Jules echoes, conciliatory. “Please let us know if there’s anything else we can tell you. I know this whole thing sounds completely mad, and I know there’ll be a lot of people who don’t believe us, but you’ve no idea what a relief it is to know we’ve finally gotten someone’s attention.”
“You certainly do have my attention,” De Luca agrees. “I also have the advantage of being privy to information my colleagues do not have. Information the International Alliance has spent a great deal of effort and resources to keep from the general public.”
My misgivings vanish entirely. That info he has—it’s got to be data from Gaia about the ship up in orbit. Maybe it’s even whatever the doctors found when examining Atlanta’s and Dex’s DNA. It’s not that he doubts us, he’s just not happy about the news we came bearing. I can’t blame him for that.
I hold my tongue—better for Jules to do the talking, given how precise and genteel the guy’s speech is. I’d just piss him off. But finally someone with the security clearance to know about Mink, to know about what happened with us on Gaia, to actually do something is here. IA Security Director for the whole of Europe.
Jules senses it too, for his voice quickens. “Then you believe us? About Dex and Atlanta, about the invasion? You know about Charlotte’s—Mink’s—mission on Gaia, and that we really did come through the portal with the ship?”
De Luca’s dark eyes are intent, for all his f
eatures are relaxed. “I don’t have to believe you—I know you were on Gaia, Mr. Addison.” His gaze flickers toward me with a faint lift of his eyebrow. I probably wasn’t mentioned very prominently in whatever report Mink made—I was just one of dozens of scavengers she planted on Gaia to trick Jules into leading them to the portal ship.
Jules lets out his breath, the tension in his shoulders finally easing, so that he nearly sags where he stands. “Then you have to listen to us, Mr. D—Director. The ship in orbit is not empty. It’s not inert or benign. It’s full of Undying, and they want Earth.”
It sounds outrageous, said out loud. But the Director merely considers Jules thoughtfully, as if sizing him up in some way. “Certainly, you must have come from the ship—how else would you find yourself here, rather than on Gaia, where our operatives left you? And there are quite a few details that seem to corroborate your story.”
My spine straightens, that hope still flickering through me as bright and warm as a fire. Trickles of doubt keep trying to stem the flames, but I ignore them. He may be a creepy international government official, but he’s what we’ve got.
De Luca continues: “Strangely patterned signals that seem to come from the engines of the ship in orbit. Sightings of what looks to be some kind of UFO crash-landing in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. Exactly the sort of thing you’d expect to see if aliens were about to descend upon Earth from on high, as you claim.”
As you claim.
The words ring in my ears. My heart is pounding even as it threatens to sink. “Then you know we’re telling the truth,” I blurt, forgetting to let Jules do the talking. “Please tell us you guys are doing something about it already—tracking the incoming shuttles, or—or alerting the various governments that something’s coming?”
“It’s interesting, though,” remarks De Luca, undoing the button on his suit jacket so that he can slip his hands into his pockets. “Despite the apparent fluctuations in the orbital ship’s engines, its course hasn’t altered, as it would if it were being piloted. The bogey that went down in the Gulf was conveniently of such a small size that all efforts to recover it have failed, so our technicians cannot study it.”
