The Fate of Ten

“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.