[Lorien Legacies 06.0] The Fate of Ten

by Pittacus Lore

  “Agent Murray,” he introduces himself. “Never got a chance to say thank you. For the other day.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I tell him, then turn to Agent Walker. “We don’t need the backup. Just the boat.”

  “Sorry, John. Can’t let you two go out there alone. You’re government assets now.”

  I snort. “Oh, we are?”

  “You are.”

  I’m not going to waste time arguing about this. They can come if they want. I start towards the docks, Sam next to me, and Walker and her agents fanned out around us like bodyguards. As usual, I get a lot of stares from the soldiers milling around. Some of them look like they want to help, but I’m sure they’re under orders not to get involved with us. Agent Walker and what’s left of her splinter group of ex-MogPro agents are all the help the government’s willing to grant us at this point. At least they upgraded their weapons, the agents having traded in their usual standard-issue handguns for some heavy-duty assault rifles.

  “Hey! John Smith from Mars! Wait up!”

  I turn in time to see Daniela squeeze her gangly body through a group of soldiers and trot towards us. The agents surrounding us immediately raise their rifles and, seeing this, Daniela skids to a stop a few yards away and puts her hands up. She eyes the FBI agents with a cocky grin.

  “It’s all right, calm down,” I tell Walker and her bunch, waving Daniela over. “She’s one of us.”

  Walker raises an eyebrow. “You mean . . . ?”

  “A human Garde,” I say, keeping my voice low. “One of the people Setrákus Ra wants turned over to him.”

  Walker sizes up Daniela. “Great,” she says dryly.

  Daniela just amps up the wattage on that smirk. “You guys heading off on an adventure or something? Can I come?”

  I frown at how lightly she’s taking this and exchange a look with Sam.

  “Did you find your mom?” Sam asks her, and Daniela’s smile falters a bit.

  “She’s not here, and she never checked in with the Red Cross,” Daniela replies, shrugging like it’s no big deal. Even though she tries to keep her tone light, her voice is shaky and I can tell she expects the worst. “Probably got out of the city some other way. I’m sure she’s all right.”

  “Yeah, definitely,” Sam replies, forcing a smile.

  “We’re on our way to confront a rogue Garde,” I tell her bluntly. Walker gives me a look, but I see no reason to lie. All hands on deck.

  “Whoa. You guys, like, go rogue?”

  I think about Five and how he turned on us and I think about Setrákus Ra and the uncountable horrible acts he’s committed. He used to be a Garde too, maybe even something higher than that, if Crayton’s letter to Ella can be believed. Then, I look at Daniela and consider her and the other humans with new Legacies who we haven’t met yet. Will they all fight for good? Or will some of them turn out like Five and Setrákus Ra?

  “We’re people, just like anyone else,” I tell her.

  “Except with awesome powers,” Sam adds.

  “Like anyone else,” I continue, “we can go bad without the proper guidance.”

  Daniela turns on that sly smile again. It’s almost infuriating, but I’m starting to realize it’s just a defense mechanism. Whenever she feels uncomfortable, she tries really hard to return the favor. “Yeah. Got it. You going to be my guide, John Smith? My sensei?”

  “We called them Cêpan, actually. Our trainers. But they’re gone. Now, we pretty much figure stuff out for ourselves.”

  Agent Walker clears her throat. I think she wants me to get rid of Daniela, but I’m not turning away any help. No way.

  “You can come with us,” I say. “But you should know, the guy we’re going after is extremely dangerous.”

  “Unhinged,” Sam adds.

  “He’s already killed one of us,” I continue. “And I don’t think he’ll hesitate to do it again. When we’re done with him, our friend Agent Walker here is going to get us on a plane somehow, and we’re going to find a way to kill the Mogadorian in charge before his invasion goes any further.”

  “You trying to scare me off?” Daniela asks, hands on her hips.

  “I just want you to know what you’re in for,” I reply. “Along the way, I can try to help you with your telekinesis. Maybe figure out what else you can do. But you’ve gotta be up for it . . .”

  Daniela looks over her shoulder. I realize that, more than anything, she wants to get out of here. She wants to keep busy and avoid confronting the very real possibility that she lost her entire family during the attack on New York.

  “I’m in,” she says. “Let’s save the world and shit.”

  Sam grins and I can’t help but smile a little bit too, especially when I notice Agent Walker rolling her eyes. With Daniela incorporated into our little bubble of secret agents, we continue on to the pier.

  “Hey,” Sam says to Daniela, keeping his voice low. “Just so you know, the Mogs were taking prisoners in New York. They weren’t, like, killing everything that moved.”

  “Yeah, I saw them pull that shit in my neighborhood,” Daniela replies. “So what?”

  “So, just because she’s not here doesn’t mean your mom’s . . . you know.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” Daniela says this gruffly, but I think she actually means it.

  The coast guard boat is ready and waiting for us, a chain-smoking captain in a wrinkled uniform prepared to take us wherever we need to go. I let Walker fill him in and a few minutes later we’re off, bouncing hard over the waves. Across the water, I can see flashing lights from the New Jersey side, helicopters bobbing in and out of view. Looks like the military set up a perimeter over there too, really trying to make sure the Mogadorians stay contained in Manhattan. I look towards the city and find the place frighteningly calm. There are still Mogs there, I’m sure, patrolling the streets and maybe setting up a stronghold. I hope most of the residents managed to make it across the bridge and, if not, then I hope Sam’s right about the Mogs keeping them as prisoners instead of killing them. That means they can still be saved.

  As Liberty Island grows larger in front of us, Daniela nudges me in the ribs.

  “You’re meeting this dude at the Statue of Liberty?” she asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “Man, that’s some real tourist shit.”

  Pretty soon, we pull up at the Liberty Island docks. A half dozen ferry boats float there, empty, one of them with scorch marks along its side. The entire place is deserted; no one’s spending the invasion checking out the Statue of Liberty. It’s almost peaceful here. As we hop out of the boat, I try to get the lay of the land. I force myself to think like Five, wondering where the best place for an ambush would be.

  I have to tilt my head up to take in the statue. We’re coming at her from the side holding the book. The gold-plated torch gleams in what’s left of the daylight. The big green lady sits atop a huge granite pedestal that in turn sits atop an even bigger stone base that takes up almost half the island. To the right, there’s a small park that looks perfectly maintained. He won’t be hiding in the park—that’s just not how Five operates.

  The boat captain stays behind, but the rest of us stride along the dock towards the statue. I think about when I first met Five, how he picked some creepy monster monument in the backwoods to reveal himself. I guess the guy has a thing for landmarks. Or maybe that crummy wooden monster statue was a clue, a stand-in for the monster hiding inside Five. If that’s the case, I wonder what his choice of the Statue of Liberty means. Probably nothing, I think, reminding myself that Five’s a total nutcase.

  Next to me, Daniela snickers. “You know, I’ve never actually been here. Lived in the city my whole life.”

  “Yeah, it’s like a field trip,” Sam says. “A field trip where at the end a dude made of solid steel tries to stab you to death.”

  “No one’s getting stabbed to death,” I say.

  As we enter the plaza that stretches around the statue’s base, I
keep my gaze centered on the upper pedestal. That’s where I’ve decided Five is most likely to be. He can fly, so it’d be easy for him to reach that area, and it would allow him to keep an eye out for our arrival. I don’t see any movement up there, though. Maybe he isn’t here yet. Or maybe he’s hiding inside the statue. I crane my neck more, trying to glimpse inside the statue’s crown, but it’s impossible. We’ll have to go inside to make sure the statue is clear.

  “Look,” Sam says, lowering his voice. “Over there.”

  I turn my head to the left, towards the perfectly sculpted lawn that stretches out from the statue’s foundation. There’s movement. A glittering shape slowly stands up from the grass and takes a faltering step in our direction. I was looking in the wrong place.

  “You’re early,” Five calls. “Good.”

  To say Five looks messed up would be an understatement. His clothes look like they’ve gone through a thresher—ripped, bloodstained and caked with dirt and ash. His skin is a silvery steel, making me think that he’s ready to fight, even though it looks like he can barely stand up. His features look swollen and out of place despite their metallic coating, his nose crooked, and there are visible dents in the side of his shaved head. He’s hunched over, one arm dangling uselessly at his side. His other arm wears that wrist-mounted blade of his. The day’s fading sunlight glints off his skin.

  Immediately, Walker and her team fan out, flanking Five. They’ve got their guns leveled at him. Daniela goes the opposite way, taking a step behind me.

  “Uh, you should’ve described this rogue dude better,” she says.

  Five takes a look at Walker’s agents and sneers. Even though he looks worn-out, having a bunch of guns pointed at him seems to rekindle his intense temper. His remaining eye tweaks open wider and he stands up straighter.

  “Don’t make me laugh with this shit,” Five says to Walker, then turns towards Agent Murray when the man chambers a round. “I’m bulletproof, bitch. Come on, I dare you.”

  There’s something weird about Five’s voice. It sounds tinny and raspy, almost like he’s having trouble breathing.

  The agents are smart enough not to get too close. I know how fast Five is, though. If he wanted to come at one of them, he’d be able to close the gap in a second or two with his flight. I stride forward onto the grass, hoping to get his attention on me before he does anything crazy. Sam stays right at my side, Daniela a few steps behind. That’s when I notice the lumpy shape in the grass next to Five. It’s one of those blue plastic construction tarps wrapped around what is obviously a body, all of that tightly bound together by thick coils of industrial-strength chain.

  That must be Nine.

  “Give him to me,” I say to Five, not wasting any time.

  Five looks down at the body and it’s almost like he’d forgotten it was there.

  “Sure, John,” Five replies.

  Five bends down and hooks his hands through the chains. He hoists up Nine’s body and grimaces. He’s hurt and tired, and I can tell this show is taxing him more than he counted on. With an animal grunt, Five tosses the body across the thirty yards that separates us. I catch Nine in midair with my telekinesis and lower him gently to the ground. Immediately, I rip off the chains and unroll the tarp.

  Nine lies unconscious in the grass in front of me. His clothes are in as bad a condition as Five’s and his injuries are similarly gruesome. There are blaster burns on his arms and chest, one of his hands is broken like something crushed it and there’s a bad gash on his head. It’s that last thing that really worries me. Blood soaks through Nine’s mane of dark hair—a lot of it—and his eyes don’t open when I gently slap his cheek.

  Sam puts a hand on my shoulder. “Is he . . . ?”

  “Oh, he’s fine,” Five groans, answering Sam’s question for me. “I had to hit him pretty hard to knock him out, though. You’ll probably want to get on that, doc.”

  I place my hands on the side of Nine’s head, but pause before I start healing him. It’s going to require my concentration and that means I won’t be able to keep an eye on Five. I look up at him.

  “You going to do anything stupid?” I ask him.

  Five holds up his hands, palms out, even though one of his arms won’t go as high as the other. Then, he flops backwards into a sitting position. “Don’t worry, John. I’m not going to hurt any of your little friends.” All the same, his one eye scans over my crew, sizing each of them up. Five’s gaze lingers on Daniela. “You’re no cop,” he says. “What’s your deal?”

  “Don’t talk to me, creep,” she replies.

  “Don’t egg him on,” Sam says quietly.

  Five snorts and shakes his head, more amused than anything. He pinches a handful of grass in front of him, rips it up and tosses the tuft away with a sigh. “Get on with it, John. I don’t have all day.”

  I’m still wary this is some kind of trap, but I can’t put off healing Nine any longer. I press my hands to the side of his head and let my healing energies flow into him. First, the gash on his head closes up. That’s just the superficial injury, though. Intuitively, I can feel the deeper, more serious traumas affecting Nine. His skull is fractured and there’s some swelling in his brain. I focus my Legacy there, although I’m careful not to push in more energy than I need. The brain’s a delicate thing and I don’t want to scramble Nine’s any more than it was before he got his head smashed in. He might still have a concussion when I’m done with him, but at least the most serious damage will be reversed.

  It takes me a couple of minutes of just concentrating on Nine. I’m vaguely aware of the tense silence around me. When I’m finished, I take my hands off his head. The other injuries can wait until we’re not in the presence of a total lunatic.

  “Nine? Nine, wake up,” I say, shaking him.

  After a moment, Nine’s eyes flutter open. His body tenses and his eyes dart around wildly. It’s like he’s expecting to be attacked again. When he recognizes me and Sam, he calms down and his expression becomes dreamy and out-of-it. He grabs my arm.

  “Johnny! I got that son of a bitch. I put one right through him,” he mumbles.

  “Got who?” I ask, and get no response. Nine’s head is already lolling away from me. I can and did heal his injuries, but I can’t make him not exhausted from fighting for the last twenty-four hours straight. He’s way out of it. We’re probably going to have to carry him.

  I look up from Nine to see Five still seated in the grass, watching us. Seeing that Nine’s out of the woods, Five begins a slow, sarcastic clap.

  “Bravo, John. Always the hero,” he says. “What about me?”

  “What about you?” I say through clenched teeth.

  “No, actually, I’d like an answer to that question, too,” Walker says, her gun still trained on Five. “He attacked our soldiers and helped the Mogadorians. He’s basically a war criminal. You just want to leave him here?”

  “Don’t you have some kind of top secret space prison for evil metal guys?” Daniela whispers to me.

  “Hell with him,” Sam says. He’s the only one who gets that we have more important things to deal with. He waves dismissively at Five and bends down over Nine, trying to help him up. “Come on, John. We gotta get out of here.”

  I’m about to help Sam when Five speaks up again. “That’s it?” he asks, sounding almost sullen. “You’re just going to leave?”

  I straighten up and glare at him. “What the hell do you want, Five? Do you know how much of our time you’ve already wasted with your stupid theatrics?” I gesture towards Manhattan, plumes of smoke still rising into the air there. “You’re not a priority right now, man. You noticed we’re at war, right? You’re not so far gone that you missed your old Mog friends killing thousands of people, did you?”

  Five actually looks towards the city, contemplating the destruction there. His bottom lip juts out. “They aren’t my friends,” he says quietly.

  “Yeah, no shit,” I reply. “Too bad you’re only figuri
ng that out now. They used you, Five, and now they don’t want you anymore. And neither do we. You’re lucky I don’t come over there and finish what Nine started.”

  My temper flares as I remember all the crap Five has pulled in the short time I’ve known him. In spite of my words, I take a sudden step towards him. Sam puts a hand on my shoulder.

  “Don’t,” he says. “Let’s just go.”

  I nod, knowing Sam’s right. I still have to get a few last shots in, though. I need to get this stuff off my chest. “I guess you can be alone now,” I say to Five. “That’s kinda what you wanted all along, isn’t it? So, go run back to one of your tropical islands and hide, or whatever it is you want to do. Just stay out of our way and stop wasting our time.”

  Five looks down at the grass in front of him. “You didn’t have to come,” he says bitterly.

  That actually makes me laugh. The sheer insanity of this guy. “You made us come here. You said you’d kill Nine if we didn’t.”

  Five’s forehead makes a metal clinking noise when he knocks against it, like he’s trying to remember something. “That’s not what I told those army losers when they found me,” he says. “I told them you’d get a new scar.”

  “Why are we still talking to him?” Sam asks, his voice rising a bit in bewilderment. He leans back down over Nine, loops Nine’s arm over his shoulders and grunts as he tries to lift him up.

  Five’s single eye holds mine. He’s locked in on me, totally ignoring everyone else. I know he’s baiting me into something, I just don’t know what. Sam’s right that we shouldn’t be wasting time here, but I can’t help myself.

  “What’re you saying?” I ask him grudgingly, knowing that it’s exactly what he wants.

  In response, Five takes off his shirt.

  The simple action seems to take a lot of effort, like it’s hard for Five to lift his arms. The shirt snags on something as Five pulls it over his head and he yelps. It takes me a moment of looking at his chest, metal-plated just like the rest of him, to realize there’s something wrong.