We’re all crowded into John’s room. Before we started the video, I couldn’t help but make note of some of the grim details of John’s room. The bed hasn’t been slept in, and there are scorch marks on the kitschy wallpaper, like he punched the wall with his Lumen on. Nobody remarks on this, although Sam does raise an eyebrow when he catches me looking.
“Dibs on Fleur,” Nine says as soon as the video is over.
I elbow him in the ribs, and Daniela makes a face. “You’re nasty.”
“I’m lonely,” Nine replies.
“This video was posted three hours ago,” Adam explains, ignoring Nine. “I’ve been monitoring Mogadorian transmissions, and it seems like they’ve just picked up on it. The closest warships to Niagara Falls are in Toronto and Chicago. They’ll be sending in Skimmers.”
“Posting on the web,” Nine says, clicking his tongue. “Rookie mistake.”
“We’ve all been there,” I say. “So, the Mogs have a head start on us. Let’s get some jets and get out there.”
“We want to keep this quiet, which is why we’re hiding out in here,” John replies. “Better if we do this ourselves without Lawson’s people knowing.”
I give John a questioning look.
“I’m not sure what his intentions are with the human Garde,” John elaborates. “Until we decide he’s on the level, I want our people to be the ones bringing them in. I don’t want to leave it up to Lawson to decide who’s ready to fight and who need his ‘protection.’”
“Whoa, hey, what kind of intentions you worried about?” Daniela asks.
“I don’t know,” John says with a sigh. “Compelled enlistment into a secret military organization? Who knows?”
“You learn not to be so trusting of people in power when you’ve been through what we have,” I tell Daniela.
She nods. “Sounds totally sketch.”
“I’ve already reached out to Lexa telepathically,” Ella says, her eyes still sparking with Loric energy. “She’s getting our ship ready.”
“Nice,” Nine says, and claps his hands. “Let’s go save some newbies.”
“I need you to stay here with me,” John says to Nine, and immediately Nine’s face falls.
“Aw, come on,” Nine replies. “What the hell for?”
“You think I wouldn’t rather be out there fighting?” John asks, his tone resigned. “We’ve got preparations to make if we’re going to sneak our way onto a warship. I need your help with that. Six can handle Niagara Falls.”
“You know it.” I grin at John, feeling as eager as Nine to get back out there and fight. I look around at the others. “The rest of you in?”
“I should stay back and monitor the Mog communications. They don’t know we’re listening, so I’ll be able to tell you what their status is,” Adam says. “I’m also supposed to meet with Malcolm and some of the engineers about replicating the cloaking devices.”
“I’m with you,” Sam says to me.
“Me too, if that’s cool,” Daniela replies.
“And me,” says Ella.
That makes everyone pause. I watched Ella die just yesterday. I’m not wholly sure that she’s ready for combat yet. She must pick up on that vibe—probably because she can read our minds. Ella puts her hands on her hips.
“If the Mogs get there first and these other Garde have to go on the run, I can track them telepathically,” she says, a note of defiance in her voice, which is still all resonant and Legacy-like. “I’ll be fine.”
“Good enough for me,” I say.
“Me too,” John adds. “Take the Chimærae with you.”
“We’ll take a couple,” I say. “Not going to leave you guys without backup here in case something else goes down.”
John nods. “Just make sure you’re packing enough firepower to knock out whatever the Mogs send.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” I tell him. “We’re gonna do more than knock them out.”
Fifteen minutes later we’re in Patience Creek’s underground garage. Like the rest of this dusty hideout, the garage isn’t as sophisticated as other militarized places we’ve seen, particularly the ones augmented by Mogadorian tech like Dulce and Ashwood. Still, the garage is big and high ceilinged, with enough space to store a convoy of armored Humvees and a couple of tanks. I expect the domed ceiling itself to open up and a ramp to extend for an exit, but the old-school spies who built this place didn’t roll that way. Instead, there’s a huge tunnel dug into one wall, barely lit and nothing fancy, just thick sections of lumber holding back the hard-packed dirt. The tunnel’s wide enough to bring a tank through, and it leads to an innocent-looking cave a few miles away from Patience Creek. If the little bed-and-breakfast that hides all this is in the middle of nowhere, then the cave exit is to the east of nowhere. Basically, you’d never catch us coming or going.