The Fate of Ten

by Pittacus Lore

  “We should be good with twelve,” I tell Adam. “Don’t blow yourself up, okay?”

  “I’ll try my best.”

  “Great. Come on, Marina.”

  I grab an empty burlap sack from the Mog supply tent before setting out towards the landing strip. Marina follows next to me.

  “What exactly are we wiring to explode, Six?” she asks.

  “Hold that thought,” I say, approaching the Skimmer where Phiri Dun-Ra is restrained. She watches me approach, eyes hot and angry, not smiling through her duct tape anymore. I think she knows what’s coming. She struggles a bit against her bonds but can’t do much to stop me from pulling that burlap sack over her head.

  “Sick of looking at her?” Marina asks.

  “Yeah, that. And I don’t want her to see what we’re up to.” I lead Marina away from our prisoner, towards the other Skimmers on the airstrip. “We’re going to wire the ships. I figure Setrákus Ra’s not coming alone, he’ll have other Mogs with him. We don’t have the force field to keep them out of the Sanctuary, but we can damn sure blow them up if they get close.”

  Thanks to Phiri Dun-Ra, none of the Skimmers are in condition to move on their own. One by one, Marina and I use our telekinesis to push the ships into position. With the two of us working in tandem, the weight isn’t that bad, at least once we get the wheels rolling. We space the Skimmers about thirty yards apart in a semicircle in front of the Sanctuary’s entrance. The ships end up on almost the exact same line as the Sanctuary’s force field.

  Now that we’ve moved most of the Skimmers, there’s a big empty space on the landing strip. “Let’s hope Setrákus Ra parks his big-ass warship in the most obvious place possible,” I say, tracing my finger through the air from the landing strip and towards the Sanctuary’s entrance. “There’s only one way into the Sanctuary, so his people will have to walk right through the ships, which is where we’re going to hide the bombs.”

  “That will at least eliminate his first wave,” Marina says.

  “Yeah, and hopefully it’ll get them nice and confused and looking for an attack, so that Adam and I can sneak in behind them and board the Anubis.”

  Marina frowns at me. “Wait. Where am I in all this?”

  Before I can answer, Adam emerges from the Mogadorian armory with a duffel bag filled with plastic explosives. He takes a look at what we’ve done so far and nods approvingly. Then, he walks over to us, sets the duffel bag down and produces a large remote control.

  “Check this out,” Adam says. “I guess the Mogs were trying to use sequenced explosions to take down the force field, maybe thinking timed detonations at multiple angles would bring the thing down.”

  He hands me the remote control. It’s got a row of twenty switches, each with a corresponding red and green light. Twelve of the red bulbs are currently lit up. Adam comes up next to me, explaining how the device works.

  “The blasting caps all have remote detonators,” he says, and flicks the left-most switch on the controller one notch up. The little light above the switch changes from red to green. “I just armed the first bomb.”

  I glance to the duffel bag at our feet, presently filled with a ton of plastic explosives, then back to the controller. There’s a little metal tooth that you need to guide the switch around for it to reach its third notch, probably to keep anyone’s finger from slipping. Still, I’m a little nervous about this demonstration. “Uh, okay . . .”

  “Safety first.” Adam flicks the switch back into its original position, the red light coming back on. “If you were to press the switch all the way up, the blasting cap would get the signal to fire its charge, and the bomb would detonate.”

  I nod once, then hand the remote control over to Marina. “You get all that?”

  “Yes, but . . .” Her brow furrows as she accepts the controller.

  “You asked where you’re going to be,” I say. “You’re going to be hiding in the jungle, controlling the Sanctuary’s defenses.”

  Marina considers this for a moment, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “It will be my pleasure.”

  Adam walks down the line of ships, sticking lunch-box-sized parcels of plastic explosives on the underbelly of each Skimmer. A cautious Mogadorian might notice them, yeah, but not before it would already be too late.

  Meanwhile, Marina and I maneuver the last two Skimmers past the ones we’ve wired to explode. These we position on opposite sides of the Sanctuary, both at the very edge of the jungle, and both pointing towards the Sanctuary’s entrance.

  “We can create a cross fire here,” I say, opening up the cockpit on one of the Skimmers. “If your telekinesis is strong enough to work the controls . . .”

  “It will have to be,” Marina replies.

  Adam comes over, powers on the Skimmers’ weapon systems and explains to Marina which buttons she would need to press to discharge the cannons. Marina spends a long time studying the controls, memorizing them, committing them to her mind’s eye. Then, she walks slowly away from the Skimmers, and heads to a patch of jungle far away from the wired-up ships but close enough to have a clear view of the entire battlefield. It’s from this hidden spot that she’ll defend the Sanctuary.

  Marina concentrates. She reaches one hand out towards the Skimmer.

  “Ugh,” she says, after a moment, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know, Six. It’s hard to use my telekinesis on something I can’t see.”

  We try a different tactic. Adam and I walk around the edge of the jungle, propping up Mogadorian blasters in the overgrown grass and trees. We camouflage them with loose branches and leaves, well enough that a Mog warrior wouldn’t notice them right off, but not so hidden that Marina can’t see them. From her spot, she tests each one, telekinetically pulling the trigger so that a burst of blaster fire sizzles into the clearing in front of the Sanctuary.

  “Nice,” I say. “You don’t even have to hit anyone, Marina. You just have to make them think the attack is coming from all sides.”

  Now that we’re finished, there are only two Skimmers left on the runway: the one we came down here in that Adam’s been trying to repair, and the one that’s got Phiri Dun-Ra tied to it. I’m satisfied with our setup so far. It feels good to be doing something, at least.

  “This is good, Six,” Marina says, her arms crossed, looking at the Mogadorian ships now arranged like guards in front of the Sanctuary. “Perfect if Setrákus Ra sends in his warriors. But what if he’s out there on the front line himself? Hurting him would mean hurting Ella. We can’t risk that.”

  “You’re right,” I reply. “We’ll have to figure out a way to at least slow him down.”

  I start towards the passageway that leads into the Sanctuary and pretend not to notice when Adam lags behind, touching Marina gently on the elbow as he does. They slow but only walk a few steps behind me. With my enhanced hearing, it’s pretty much impossible for me not to eavesdrop.

  “I’m sorry about before,” Adam says to her quietly. “I got carried away.”

  “It’s all right,” Marina replies kindly. “I shouldn’t have called you a monster. It just slipped out. I don’t really think that.”

  Adam laughs once, self-deprecatingly. “No, you know, I’ve wondered a lot over the years if that—if that’s not a good word for us.”

  Marina makes a noise, about to say something more, but Adam cuts her off.

  “It’s okay—I’m sorry again, about everything. I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about. I shouldn’t . . . I won’t be so cavalier about leaving this place again. I get why it’s so important. What it means.”

  “Thank you, Adam.”

  I turn around, pretending not to have been listening to their entire conversation. We’re in front of what used to be the Sanctuary’s hidden door. It’s a narrow stone archway leading to stairs that run all the way down to the hidden chamber beneath the temple.

  “So,” I say, hands on my hips. “How do we stall the most powerful Mogad
orian in the universe without hurting him, while at the same time stealing his warship out from under him?”

  Adam raises his hand. “I have a question.”

  I can see the wheels turning in his head. “Shoot.”

  “This entire plan is predicated on chance—Setrákus Ra going for the door, Setrákus Ra sending out warriors, Marina being able to distract them with some bombs and ghost weapons.” I open my mouth to respond, worried he’s getting freaked out again, but Adam keeps rolling. “It’s the best option we’ve got. I agree with you. But, assuming it works, assuming we do manage to steal the Anubis while Setrákus Ra sits down here. What then? What do we do next? We still can’t kill him.”

  “But he won’t be able to kill us either,” I reply. I know it’s not exactly the brilliant strategic gem Adam’s hoping for, but I honestly haven’t thought that far ahead. I’ve been too focused on our immediate survival.

  “Perhaps we could negotiate,” Marina suggests halfheartedly. “For Ella, or the Sanctuary . . .”

  “Despite how fervently he would tell you otherwise, Setrákus Ra has no honor,” Adam says. “There can be no negotiating.”

  “Then it’ll be a stalemate,” I say. “And that’s better than losing, right?”

  Adam considers my words, digging his heel into the dirt in front of the archway.

  “All right,” Adam says. “Then I suggest we dig a hole.”

  “A hole?”

  “A pit,” Adam continues. “In front of the door. A large one. Then, we cover it up and let Setrákus Ra fall into it.”

  I push my toe into the dirt. Thanks to the shadows of the Sanctuary and the nearby plant growth, it’s soft and a little damp, not like the hard-packed and sunbaked dirt of the runway. All our Legacies, that stockpile of Mog weapons, a bunch of C-4—and now we’re talking about digging a hole. “Well, he’s exactly the kind of asshole who doesn’t watch where he’s going, especially if he’s sporting a major boner to get into the Sanctuary.”

  “There’s an image,” Adam replies.

  “Once he’s down there I can ice over the top from my hiding spot,” Marina says, getting on board. “That could slow him down further.”

  “Well, at least it’ll be hilarious to watch him fall in a hole,” I add optimistically.

  “It’ll have to be pretty big,” Adam says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “He can change sizes.”

  “Good thing we’ve got Legacies to help with the digging,” I reply. “Even if it only buys us a few minutes, that might be enough to get us on board the Anubis.”

  “One more thing, and you might not like this idea,” Adam says to Marina, before gesturing towards the Sanctuary’s door. “But maybe we should cave that in. It’ll be one more thing to get in Setrákus Ra’s way.”

  It’s a good idea, but I look over at Marina before saying anything. She thinks about it for a moment and then shrugs. “They’re only stones,” she says. “What’s important is that we protect what’s inside.”

  “Should I get some of the C-4?” Adam asks.

  “I think I can handle it,” I reply, already tapping into my Legacy and channeling a small storm. The air gets heavy as I pull together a dark cloud above our heads, a small pattering of raindrops falling loose from it. With a downward motion of my hand, four bolts of lightning slice down at an angle Mother Nature couldn’t hope to duplicate. The strikes arc into the Sanctuary’s doorway and explode into the decrepit limestone, collapsing the passage in on itself with a burst of musty air.

  I step up and take a look at my handiwork. The doorway is now filled with rubble, with some of the interior wall obviously collapsed as well. It won’t keep an army of Mogs out forever and Setrákus Ra will definitely be able to dislodge the rubble with his telekinesis. Still, it’s better than nothing.

  Meanwhile, with a thoughtful look on her face, Marina takes measured steps around the entrance to the Sanctuary, keeping count. When she’s walked a near-perfect square in front of the entrance, Marina looks over at me.

  “About thirty feet on each side, do you think?” she asks me. “For the pit?”

  “I think that’d do it.”

  “Let me try something,” Marina says, and then begins to concentrate.

  She walks a thirty-foot line away from the Sanctuary’s entrance, her hands fanning the air as she goes. A wall of ice begins to take shape along Marina’s line, although its bottom edge doesn’t make contact with the ground.

  “Help me hold it in place, would you?” Marina asks, glancing at me.

  I’m not quite sure where this is going, but I play along. Using my telekinesis, I hold up Marina’s growing sheet of ice. I notice that the ice is thicker at the top and narrows to a lethally sharp edge at the bottom, almost like a guillotine blade. She walks the same lines as a second ago, this time generating ice as she goes. After a couple of minutes, Marina has created a hollow cube of ice, roughly thirty feet by thirty feet, with no top or bottom. The ice hovers above the ground, dripping water, and Marina has to continually use her Legacy to keep it from melting.

  “What happens now?” Adam asks, looking on.

  “We lift it up,” Marina says, referring to the two of us. “And then we slam it down with as much force as we can muster. Ready, Six?”

  I do as instructed, using my telekinesis to levitate Marina’s ice sculpture about twenty feet above the ground.

  “Ready?” she asks, looking at me. “Now!”

  Together, we drive the ice into the ground. There’s a thudding sound as the sharpened edges drive into the dirt, followed by the sound of glass breaking as cracks form rapidly in the ice and begin to spread. All in all, the ice doesn’t get driven very far into the earth, about four feet at most. Marina seems pleased with the result, though.

  “Okay, okay! Hold on a second!”

  She races around the box of ice, its four walls now embedded in the ground, and begins to reinforce the walls, thickening and hardening the ice as she touches it. When the cracks in the ice are sealed up and the broken chunks filled in, Marina kneels down at one of the corners and puts her hands on the ice, as close to the ground as possible.

  “All right, I’m not sure if this part will actually work,” she says. “Here goes.”

  Marina closes her eyes and concentrates. Adam and I exchange a look, both of us pretty confused. Still, we stay quiet for what ends up being more than five minutes, watching Marina work her Legacy. I want to put my forehead on the cold ice, but I worry that might screw up whatever she’s doing.

  “I think I got it,” Marina says at last, standing up and rolling her neck. “Six, let’s lift the ice back up.”

  “Now you want it out of the ground?” I ask.

  Marina nods excitedly. “Quick! Before it melts too much.”

  So, we concentrate on the cube again. It feels much heavier this time and as we lift it, I realize why. Marina spread the ice under the ground, connecting the four walls of her cube. When we lift the ice, it comes up with a ripping and crunching sound, as the remaining roots of the grass are torn apart. The ice cube floats up on our telekinesis and, inside it, sits a four-foot deep cross section of the earth, perfectly maintained.

  “Gently now,” Marina says, as we transport the ice and earth off to the side. “I got in there pretty deep, but it could still break apart.”

  “Brilliant,” Adam says, grinning at the floating mound. “We won’t have to cover the hole with, like, really big branches. Once we’ve dug it the rest of the way, we can just lay that piece back on top. It’ll look normal when Setrákus Ra steps on it, but you should be able to cave it in from a distance with your telekinesis.”

  Marina nods. “That was my thinking.”

  We lower the immaculately shaped box of dirt and grass to the ground with a gentle thump. Without Marina constantly augmenting it with her Legacy, the ice soon begins to melt away. The edges of our pit’s lid get a little muddy, but that’ll dry quickly considering the heat.

  Adam strides forwar
d, kneeling in front of the thirty-by-thirty hole in the ground.

  “My turn,” he says.

  He places his hands right into the dirt and a second later I can feel vibrations flowing out from him. The seismic ripples are focused primarily in front of him, but his control isn’t precise enough to keep them from fanning out. For a moment, I feel a little bit queasy as the ground shifts beneath my feet, but I’m able to quickly get a grip. The soil in front of Adam begins to loosen and shift, the packed-down layers beginning to break apart into sizable chunks.

  Adam looks over his shoulder at me. “How’s that?”

  I use my telekinesis to lift a crumbly section of dirt and stone up from the pit, then chuck it into the jungle. It’ll be easier to dig through now that Adam’s broken up the dirt, but it’s still going to be a pain in the ass. I give him an approving nod.

  “It’s a start,” I tell him.

  He stands up. “I’m going to go look for . . . a shovel.”

  Adam can barely finish his thought, his eyes suddenly pinned to the sky behind me. I whip around, hearing the sound of an engine.

  No. It can’t be. It’s too soon. We aren’t ready.

  “Six?” Marina asks, her voice catching. “What is that?”

  It’s a ship. Sleek and silver, without the hard angles and guns like the other crafts I’ve seen the Mogs flying. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before, yet it’s also oddly familiar.

  The ship’s coming in fast, and it’s headed right for us.

  CHAPTER

  FOURTEEN

  “SCOUTS?” MARINA ASKS ME. I CAN FEEL HER ice Legacy kicking back on, in case we need to fight this new arrival.

  “That’s not a Mog ship,” Adam says, stepping up beside me.

  “No,” I reply, because I’ve already figured that out. I put my hand on Marina’s arm. “It’s okay. Don’t you . . . don’t you recognize it?”

  “I . . .” Marina trails off as she takes a closer look at the incoming ship. The spaceship zips in over the trees and pivots effortlessly in the air, cutting its speed with a flourish over the recently cleared Mogadorian runway. Although it’s dented and scuffed, and even has a bit of rust on the edges, the ship still shines a glittering silver, its armored paneling made from materials not found on this world. It hovers for a moment, the sun glinting off the cockpit’s tinted windows, and then gently lands.