Dex’s voice is just as slick, but there’s no trace of fear in it. “We’re shifting with you.” His eyes fix on Jules’s face, and I wonder if Jules feels the alien weight of it like I feel Atlanta’s. “You know this world—you’ll make sure we reach our destin.”
I finally get my heart going again and find my voice. “We’re not doing anything to help you. And we’re certainly not letting you out.”
Atlanta’s lip curls, and she mutters in distaste, “Protos. You’re every part as smug and self-serving as history says.”
“We’reself-serving?” Jules’s face darkens a few shades, and I have to stifle the urge to grab his arm in case he swings. “You’re trying to destroy our world.”
Atlanta’s expression doesn’t flicker. “Destroy it? We’resavingit.”
“Why would we let you out?” Jules nudges me behind him a little more, and for a moment I think he’s responding to my rather cowardly attempt to use him as a shield—until I realize he’s nudging me back from the door. Perhaps he thinks he can kick Dex’s foot free, slam it shut.
“If you don’t,” Atlanta counters, “I pledge we’ll set up such a fuss and hassle to wake every proto on the base.”
Shit.
“Why do you keep calling us that?” I snap, my temper unravel-ling. I had no idea they could hear our plans so clearly.
“Protos?” Atlanta’s lips twist. “Proto-human.”
The hairs on my neck lift, the chill in her voice making me want to shiver. “Wearehuman. This is our planet. We belong here.”
“Weare human—the new humans, the new masters of Earth. You’re just what came before.”
“You’re Undying,” I spit.
“I’m sure Neanderthal hunters thought they were the rulers oftheir world—but would you entrust this planet to them now?” Atlanta smiles her chilly smile. “We arebeyondyou. We are the future of this world.”
Fury and fear together rise up like bile, and I hiss, “They’re going to see you. A few shuttles, sure, you can hide as space junk. But enough of you to invade our whole planet? They’re going to see you, and stop you.”
Atlanta just continues smiling that metallic, not-quite-right smile. “We won’t need more than a few,” she says, her voice as sharp and threatening as a knife. She doesn’t elaborate, but the smugness on her face suggests there’s far more to their plan than just sneaking a few operatives onto Earth’s surface.
While I’m fumbling for a response, Jules straightens at my side. “Fine. You can come.”
My voice bursts out of me before I can stop it. “What? Jules—”
“Trust me.” Jules murmurs the words—though the Undying can no doubt overhear, his tone is still intimate and soft, like a whisper. When I look at him, his eyes aren’t on Atlanta and her fierce gaze and clenched fists, but rather on Dex’s face, unreadable and calm.
I seize Jules’s wrist and turn it. We’ve lost four minutes. Glancing up, I spot cameras at regular intervals along our path. “I really hope Mink’s on our side,” I whisper, and turn to lead the others down the corridor.
ALL THE LONG, BLANK HALLS IN THIS PLACE LOOK EXACTLY THE SAME.I have no sense of where we are, and worse, no sense of where the exit is.
It’s like this whole facility was built to disorient the visitor, and perhaps it was. Each hallway shares the same smooth floor, the same featureless walls. There’s not so much as a number on a doorway, let alone a helpful location map with a cheery little You Are Here! indicator.
We have to swipe Mink’s card twice more in the first two minutes to make our way through security checkpoints, heavy sliding doors that would’ve been impassable otherwise.
There are only two things on our side. First, it’s a little after three in the morning, and though in a place like this there are certainly people still on duty, nobody is roaming the corridors. And secondly, the cameras are down, thanks to Mink. They must be, or someone would have raised the alarm by now.
I know from Mia’s grim expression that she’s worried—thecameras aren’t our only concern. Surely in a situation like this, protocol dictates that somebody should check the prisoners are where they’re supposed to be.
With a swift intake of breath, Mia halts, gazing down a branching corridor. At first I can’t tell what’s grabbed her attention, but when she whispers a quick “Give me one second,” and slips down the hallway, I recognize the interview room where we witnessed Mink and De Luca’s showdown. When she returns, she’s tucking something into her waistband and sidling up to me. Only once Atlanta and Dex have returned their attention to the issue of escape do I glance sidelong at her—she slips something to me wordlessly. I can tell by feel that it’s my journal. I shove it down into a cargo pocket and raise an eyebrow at her.
She lifts the edge of her shirt a little, just enough to show me the handle of her multi-tool. “I modified this myself,” she whispers, voice half defensive, half triumphant. “It’s been to the other side of the universe and back. I’m not leaving it behind now.”
Before I can reply, a noise echoes down the corridor, stopping us dead in our tracks. It’s Director De Luca shouting at the top of his voice. I catch a snatch of a few words—don’t want to hear a goddamn—and then the rest of it is lost, just noise again.
I guess he knows something’s wrong.
The door to the room where he must be opens with a smooth hiss, and Mia collides with my chest as she backs abruptly around the corner. Wordlessly, the four of us—a team at least in this—duck back down the way we came. Which looks exactly the same as every other corridor. This is hopeless.
