I realize with a start that that’s how the Undying scouts have been getting down. Everyone knows that pieces of the old comms arrays fall from the heavens on a daily basis. When you’re not in the midst of the city lights, you see them arcing across the sky at night, like shooting stars. They’re from a time orbital tech wasn’t regulated, and a lot of very questionable workmanship ended up circling the Earth.
Now, it’s all falling down. And the Undying shuttles are posing as just a few more pieces of junk each day.
Atlanta studies the road, then nods, satisfied for the momentthat the vehicles aren’t turning our way. She swivels toward us, and I see the instant that she registers something’s not right.
“What the …” Her voice trails away, and she’s gawping at us like a fish out of water, her mouth open—closed—open again, like she’s gasping for air. “Dex, they’reprotos. How—”
She looks across at him, and that’s when we realize that he’s not looking at the three of us. Instead, he’s turned back toward the cars. “The transports are off-road. Theyarecoming thisways.”
All our heads snap around, and he’s right. The convoy has turned our way, bumping over the grass toward us at speed.
They’re military vehicles.
Atlanta responds first. “Dex, the destruct! Hit the button!” An urgent wave of her hand takes in the ship.
That must be how they’re stopping people from finding the shuttles, once they’re down.
Dex springs to life, tossing his helmet in through the hatch after the rest of our gear and yanking a plate off the smooth outside of the hull, revealing two dials and a red button beneath them. The button’s protected by a clear hatch, presumably indicating it shouldn’t be pressed accidentally.
A voice rings out over a loudspeaker. “Fora del vehicle! Aixequeu les mans!”
I recognize the language as Catalan and realize we must be somewhere along the mountains in Catalonia.Perfututi.Itwouldbe one of the languages I don’t speak. But when the man repeats the order in Spanish, a wild desire to laugh strikes me, as I comply with the command.Step away from thevehicle? Mehercule, it’s a bleeding spaceship!
“He says they’re armed,” I lie. “He says hands up.”
Beside me, Mia raises her hands. “Never thought I’d be glad to have someone tell me to dothat,” she mutters, and I grin. The authorities will handle Atlanta and Dex, and all we have to do is tell someone in charge about the Trojan spaceship in orbit overour heads. The impending invasion will be the IA’s problem—and whatever the Undying’s plan is, it clearly hinges upon stealth. If we expose them, then surely …surelythe IA can stop them.
The all-terrain vehicles—there are four of them—pull up in a semicircle before us. The troops inside wear the black of International Alliance forces. The front doors of each vehicle fly open so the soldiers can use them for cover, sighting us down the length of their rifles through the open front windows. Turns out I wasn’t lying.
Deus, they’reveryarmed.
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 someonewaymore 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 whoknowsshe 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 MinkorCharlotte, 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.
