Abernathy looked like he wanted to object, his jaw tightened, and his shoulders squared. He was, after all, responsible for Area 51, but Cullen outranked him. "Yes, sir," he said reluctantly, the words clearly bitter in his mouth, then led his team out, their footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Once they were gone, Declan turned and began walking deeper into the facility, his stride confident. "This way, please." A dozen Secret Service agents fell into step behind him, or if I was being accurate, a contingent of Trogvyk. The buzz of the cuddwisg they wore floated about my ears like insects.
We followed, our footsteps echoing in the corridor like drumbeats, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls. Adtovar and Xabat maintained their positions flanking Ellie, moving in perfect synchronization, while Xytol walked slightly behind, every inch the dutiful attaché, his eyes downcast and unassuming. Cullen and I brought up the rear, followed by the rest of our team, hands never far from our weapons, fingers twitching with readiness.
The corridor opened into a massive hangar, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. Instead of the comfortable conference room from our previous meeting, we found ourselves in a sterile atmosphere surrounded by technology that shouldn't exist on Earth. Sleek alien craft hung suspended from the ceiling like predatory birds frozen mid-flight, hulls gleaming under harsh fluorescent lights that cast sharp shadows across the floor. Workstations lined the walls, covered in equipment I couldn't begin to identify. Some clearly human-made, clunky andmechanical, others unmistakably extraterrestrial, with smooth, organic surfaces.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Declan said, his voice carrying across the cavernous space, bouncing off the high ceiling, sounding wrong in Ellie's feminine tone. "We've made remarkable progress in understanding the technology you've shared with us."
Ellie—or rather, the man wearing Ellie's face—moved forward, his gaze sweeping across the hangar with interest. It was deeply unsettling, watching Declan inhabit her body, seeing her mannerisms filtered through his consciousness, twisted and wrong like a reflection in warped glass.
I forced myself to focus, to remember why we were here, pulling my attention away from him. This wasn't about technology. This was about the trap, about springing it before it could close around us.
Xytol had moved to the side, his fingers flying on the datapad as he pretended to take notes. I caught the shift in his posture, the way his spine straightened imperceptibly, the way one of his long fingers tapped three times on the screen—the signal. My pulse quickened, adrenaline flooding my system. Xytol had verified what my senses suspected, every member of Declan's Secret Service team was Trogvyk, all of them wearing human disguises.
The irony wasn't lost on me. A room full of impostors, each of us pretending to be someone else, wearing false faces and playing roles, conversing with words that were far from the truth.
"I am happy to see you are well," Ellie said, her voice warm but formal as the Prime as she approached the President.
The smile that crossed the President's face seemed genuine enough, reaching all the way to the eyes, though I knew better. "Yes, thank you. It has been a very interesting few weeks."
"I understand our plan to capture Declan Hewes has derailed for the moment," Ellie continued, clasping her hands behind her back, a gesture that mimicked the true Prime, regal and controlled. Ellie had studied her part, watching videos of the Prime in action, memorizing every gesture and inflection.
The faux President nodded, his expression shifting to one of frustration, his brow furrowing. "Yes, I have been trying to locate him to no avail. Perhaps he is off planet?"
Ellie tilted her head slightly. "We have been monitoring the departures and arrivals to Earth. Since our last meeting, no one has entered or left the atmosphere except my shuttle." A lie, but for a good purpose, a necessary deception.
"What would you have me do if we cannot find Hewes?" the President asked, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness.
"I think he may be far closer than anyone realizes," Ellie said quietly, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper.
The President's eyes narrowed, a hateful expression flickering across his borrowed features like storm clouds passing over the sun. "Actually, I have been reconsidering."
"Really?" Ellie's eyebrows arched, an exact duplicate of the Prime's gesture of surprise.
"Yes, upon further scrutiny, I have discovered that Hewes is not the danger," Hewes announced smugly.
Ellie squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, every bit the leader, radiating authority. "Then who do you propose is behind human trafficking to the cosmos?"
The faux President crossed her arms over her chest, jutting out her chin in a gesture that was petulant, childish. Not a leader, a spoiled brat. "I believe it is the Alliance."
The temperature in the hangar seemed to drop, the air suddenly frigid against my skin. Ellie's posture stiffened, her spine going rigid. "That is a dangerous accusation."
"You wanted me to believe that a human was behind the trafficking, when it is apparent that your kind come and go to Earth as you please," the President said, her voice hardening, Declan's true nature bleeding through the facade like ink through paper.
"You forget I have proof," Ellie countered, her voice cold as ice. The Prime would be proud of her performance.
"Manufactured proof, no doubt."
The President made a sharp signal with her hand, a quick cutting gesture, and suddenly every Secret Service agent in the hangar drew their weapons, the metallic clicks echoing through the space.
"Admiral Blackwood," the President said sharply, her voice carrying across the hangar, bouncing off the suspended aircraft. "I would like for you to take the Prime and her attendants into custody."
Cullen didn't move. His expression remained neutral, carved from stone, but there was steel in his eyes, hard and unyielding. "I am sorry, but I only follow the orders of the true President."
The male wearing the President's face went rigid, every muscle in his body tensing. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Ellie's lips curved into a cold smile. "It means you need to get your ass out of my skin, Declan."
