“The Elder Pittacus designed the evacuation protocol many years ago, but we Mentor Cêpans were given very little information beyond the mere fact of our enrollment. Weeks ago the Elders went off on a secret diplomatic mission from which they’ve yet to return. They’d set the protocol to be activated preemptively if the council lost touch with them during the course of their absence.” Brandon clutched his head. “They were worried. From what little I’ve learned, a race of aliens called Mogadorians is coming. Has already come. The Elder Prophecy has come to pass. We knew of the Mogadorians’ existence—had even had some dealings with them long ago—but we never anticipated that they might prove hostile to us.”

I nodded along with him as he spoke, trying to absorb as much of what he was saying as I possibly could.

“Lorien as we knew it has already ceased to exist,” he said. “And,” he added, punctuating himself with a bitter laugh, “we’ve already botched the evacuation. Nine Mentor Cêpans, nine young Garde. Just as there are now nine Elders. The number must matter, it must’ve been for a reason. With Daxin dead …”

His voice trailed off. He turned towards the console at the front of the transport, and sighed. “We’re almost at the airstrip,” he said. “We’ll just have to make do with eight.”

The vehicle came to a stop and Brandon stepped out.

I followed him outside. We were parked fifty yards from a small airstrip, deep in the Outer Territories. A medium-sized aircraft was parked in the distance. I could make out people congregating near the craft. Without a word to me, Brandon was charging away from the vehicle towards them.

“Wait,” I called.

He turned around, an impatient look on his face.

“The kid,” I said. “What about the kid?”

I already bore some, possibly all, of the responsibility for Daxin’s death. But the boy had been earmarked for survival and he was still out there. As far as I knew, the Malkan Kabaraks hadn’t been hit yet.

“His Mentor Cêpan is already dead,” said Brandon. “And even if he weren’t, the trip there and back would take two hours. We need to be off this planet as soon as possible. It’s too big a risk, and it’s a risk that none of us, with Garde of our own to protect, can afford to take.”

So the kid was doomed?

“I can’t live with that,” I said.

“You won’t have to,” said Brandon. “Not for long, anyway.”

Fear gripped my heart and I suddenly realized—there was no place for me on the evacuation ship. I would perish along with the rest of the planet during the next wave of the attack.

“So me, the kid, and everybody else on this planet … we’re just fucked, huh?” I knew I sounded pathetic, but I couldn’t help myself. “Left to die as the invasion begins?”

Brandon didn’t skip a beat. “Yes,” he said. “This is no longer about saving individual lives, Sandor. This is about saving an entire race.”

So that was that.

“I’m sorry, Sandor,” said Brandon, softening a little. “I have no reason to believe the Mogadorians will leave a single Lorien soul alive when they come, but for your sake I hope—”

Brandon drifted off, unable to finish his sentence.

He didn’t need to. I understood perfectly. Death would be better than the alternative.

There was nothing left to say.

“Okay then,” I said, pitifully sarcastic. I gave Brandon a little wave good-bye. “Guess I’ll be seeing you!”

I was alone again.

I’d fallen to my knees in the dirt by Brandon’s vehicle.

The only illumination came from its interior lights. Brandon hadn’t bothered to close the door when he’d left it behind. I guessed there was no point when the entire planet was set for destruction.

I twisted Daxin’s ID band around the flesh of my wrist. It was amazing how much trouble this little device had caused, what a trivial and tragic mess I had made with it.

Disgusted with myself and my own predicament, I pulled the band off and raised it over my head, ready to toss it into the darkness.

I hesitated, thinking of Devektra. I wondered where she was, if she had found any other Garde to help her. I wondered if she was still alive, knowing that even if she was, her chances of survival, even with her Legacies, would be slim to none.

Really, death was probably the best thing that could happen to her. She wouldn’t give a shit about that. We were too alike that way. She didn’t believe in perfect. That would be her strength. I decided it would be mine too. If I was going down, I was going to make it as messy as I could.

“Nine young Garde,” Brandon had said. “That must’ve been for a reason.”

Yes, I thought, looking down at the ID band I was still clutching in my white-knuckled fist. Something had been set in motion a long time ago that had brought me to this point, on my knees in the Outer Territories, this ID band and locator in my hands.

It’s all for a reason. There had to be nine. Nine Cêpan, nine Garde. I had fucked up so badly. It wasn’t too late, though. I could still be good.

CHAPTER 13

The vehicle rumbled and buckled over the unpaved earth, its course set for the Malkan Kabarak. With the thing on autopilot, I was free to dig around in the back, trying to find a weapon. I had no idea if the Mogadorians’ second wave would be another round of missile hits or a ground invasion, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to arm myself. Unfortunately, all I managed to find was a long, sharp knife. Not especially powerful, but it was something. I also grabbed a spare info-mod, hoping that it might somehow come through with news of another attack.

I booted it up not expecting much, but it was still picking up scattered, patchy transmissions. The ones that were coming through were mostly dedicated to Munis communications about rescue efforts in the city.

They’d caught us off guard, just like the Elders had predicted. Even now, people didn’t seem to get it. Not a single one of the transmissions I was able to hear made any reference to the fact that we’d been attacked—or the fact that it wasn’t over yet.

Maybe the rest of Lorien was still mostly oblivious. I knew the truth, though. I knew what I had to do.

I was going to save the boy, or die trying.

The vehicle pulled up to the edge of Malka and I made my way up the dirt path in the dark. I couldn’t see much, but I let my memory guide me towards the hut the boy had shared with his grandfather. The closer I got, the more the locator band vibrated, signaling that I was heading in the right direction.

In the distance, I could hear the hubbub of the Malkans’ Quartermoon revels. They still didn’t know. For a brief moment, I considered running onto the Kabarak and warning them about the upcoming invasion, telling them to arm themselves. But I didn’t have time for that, and it wouldn’t make any difference anyway. I had to keep my focus. This was about the survival of our whole race. Brandon had said there had to be nine.

When I reached the hut, the boy, his grandfather and the frolicking chimæra were nowhere to be seen. But the band continued to vibrate in my hand. By moving forward in a couple different directions, testing the vibration’s frequency, I was able to get a bead on him. He was farther up the path.

I rounded a crest that gave out to a narrow field among other hills. A large campfire blazed nearby, and as I moved closer, I saw the boy’s grandfather crouched next to it. He looked up at me.

The boy and his chimæra were nowhere to be seen.

The man gestured at the seat beside him. Nervously, I stepped forward and took my place at the campfire. Whatever he was cooking, it smelled delicious. It was nearly dawn, and I hadn’t eaten since dessert the night before. Teased by the smell, my mouth began to water.

The man gestured at the pot. “Eat,” he said.

I did as I was told, using the stone ladle jutting out of the pot to fill a small earthenware bowl with the rich stew.

“It’s delicious,” I said, nodding with gratitude.

“You’ve come for my boy,” said the grandfather.

“Yes,” I said, realizing that he had known why I was there all along.

“He is all I have,” he said. “Anyone can see that there is something special about him. My gift allows me rare glimpses at the threads of destiny, and I have always known this day would come. The day I met you, I could see that it wouldn’t be long.”

Daxin’s ID band hadn’t stopped vibrating crazily since I’d sat down, and now my tab was going off like crazy. Here by the campfire, with this strong, simple man staring me down, I felt like a tech-addled slob.

“One second,” I said, feeling like a total idiot. “Excuse me.”

I stood, pulled the mod out of my pocket and looked down, reading the newest update. APPROACH OF SECOND WAVE CONFIRMED. MISSILE ATTACK FOLLOWED BY GROUND FORCES. Some surviving LDF warrior, or perhaps a Munis employee, had managed to make it onto the com-network and had finally managed to sound out the real alarm.

I was still wondering what it all meant when I felt my legs give out from under me. The mod went flying out of my hands and landed with a thud on the ground.

But it was only the boy, who’d lunged at my legs and knocked me onto the ground. He was stronger than he looked and he knew it. He threw himself onto his back in the grass and giggled with wild pride, the metal band on his wrist glinting under the firelight.

“Gotcha!” the boy exclaimed. I wondered if he would remember this night, and if he did, whether he would remember with sadness what he was about to lose or with happiness for what, for a few more moments at least, he still had.

I mustered up a smile in response. “Not yet, pal.” I retrieved my mod from where it had landed in the grass and picked myself up, kneeling in the dirt with the fire at my back. I opened my arms and the boy ran into them unquestioningly. I scooped him up and stood, and as I did, I looked over at his grandfather, just for a moment. He stared back at me with a great sadness.

I knew I had to leave. But I had to ask him one more thing. “You said your Legacy allows you to see people’s destinies,” I said. “Can you see anything now?”

“He will be important,” the man said sadly. “That’s all I know.”

“What about me?” I asked.

The man smiled sadly. “You will be important also,” he said. “But you will die.”

I knew he was right. It was okay, though. We were all going to die. At least I would do it making a difference.

As I walked away, back down the path to the van, the boy’s arms wrapped around my neck, I looked over my shoulder and took one last look at the man who had raised him. It was streaming with tears that ran in deep furrows through the caked dust on his cheeks and into his beard.

And then the second wave of missiles came down, booming in the distance.

CHAPTER 14

The ground on the trail was uneven under my feet as I raced down the path, the branches and brambles scratching my face in the dark. I cursed under my breath and stumbled at every third step. The kid in my arms had started to cry as soon as his grandfather had disappeared from view, but he was doing it quietly.