CALEB CRANE
ENGELBERG, SWITZERLAND
SECONDS AFTER FIVE LANDED ON ONE OF BEA Barnaby’s mercenaries and flattened him like a pancake, a Mogadorian Skimmer began its descent from above. The ship looked nothing like the sleek disk Sydal had built using its technology. This vessel appeared to have been through a war and was barely holding together—scorch marks on its sides, pieces hanging loose where they shouldn’t, a visible crack in the windshield.
As spaceships went, it was a junker.
“You know who that is, right?” Daniela whispered to Caleb.
“Yeah, of course,” he replied, trying to simultaneously watch the Skimmer descend and keep an eye on Five.
Unreal. This had to be the we Isabela had been referring to. What the hell had she gotten herself into?
“I don’t,” Melanie hissed at them. “Who is he?”
“Five,” Daniela replied.
“The Loric?” Melanie snorted. “Shut up. He’s dead.”
“He isn’t dead,” Caleb said. “Obviously.”
Melanie held up the suitcase she’d gotten from Sydal like a shield. “Oh my God.”
Sydal himself clearly wasn’t used to surprises like this. Or, for that matter, threats about decapitation. He stomped his foot and screamed across the field at Bea.
“What is the meaning of this, Barnaby?” One of Sydal’s guards touched his arm to keep him from advancing any further towards Five. Despite the Loric’s threat, Caleb noticed that all of Sydal’s men had their guns at the ready, tense, prepared to fire at the slightest provocation. The mercenaries on the other side had the exact same posture.
Across the field, Bea held up her hands like the picture of innocence.
“I’m as surprised as you are, Wade,” she replied. “Young man, what is—?” She started to address Five, until he whipped his head in her direction.
“Shut up!” he snapped. “All of you!”
The Skimmer landed and a rickety entrance ramp began to unfurl from its side. Everyone turned to watch as three people exited the ship. The first was a girl Caleb didn’t recognize. She was tall and thin, her head shaved, and even at this distance, he could see electricity crackling across her fists and arms.
Caleb recognized the next guy down the ramp. He’d only seen Einar briefly, back during their fight with the Harvesters on the highway. Caleb remembered him as slick and showy, wearing his fancy suit and carrying around an attaché case. He’d seemed so remarkably in control. Yet now, while Einar definitely gave off a certain arrogance that Caleb found immediately grating and he was still dressed well, there were hairs out of place and his suit was noticeably wrinkled. His eyes were tired. He looked, Caleb realized, like a guy who had been living inside a broken-down spaceship.
Following Einar out of the ship was Isabela. She held a cell phone in front of her and it quickly became apparent that she was recording video. Caleb’s heart sank even more. As if it wasn’t bad enough seeing Taylor and Nigel over there with the Foundation—and Nigel’s mom, apparently—now here was Isabela backing Einar. He didn’t know whose side he was supposed to take in this situation.
But . . . you know what? That didn’t seem to matter. In fact, Caleb suddenly felt pretty chill about the whole standoff. Everyone else seemed to agree because they were all stepping back and lowering their guns.
Einar raised his arms and smiled.
“Hello, everyone,” he began. “In case you hadn’t guessed, I’m helping you all stay calm.”
Caleb smiled and nodded. Yep. It was working. He felt great.
“For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Einar.” He bowed in Sydal’s direction. Then, he looked over at Nigel, the Brit wearing the same dopey grin as all the rest of them, despite being faced with the guy who once nearly killed him. “For those that I’ve met before, I’m truly sorry if I made a bad first impression. I’m learning.”
Einar spoke laconically, giving off the impression of control. But Caleb saw a vein pulsing on the side of his head. Manipulating the emotions of this many people was a strain, even for a Garde as powerful as Einar.
“Let’s play a game,” Einar said. “If you are part of a vast criminal conspiracy to exploit and control Garde, please raise your hand.”
Sydal’s hand went up enthusiastically. So did Bea Barnaby’s. All the guards and mercenaries also raised their hands. It was a combination of Einar compelling honesty and his two helpers simply using their telekinesis to jerk arms into the air. After a few seconds, only the Garde were left with their hands down.
“All of these people have ties to an organization called the Foundation. If you’ve heard of them, you are probably under their sway.” Caleb realized that Einar wasn’t speaking so much to the crowd as to Isabela’s camera. “The Foundation even have their hands in Earth Garde, the so-called Human Garde Academy, and virtually every powerful organization on this planet. They think they can control us. Exploit us. Profit off us or kill us.”
Einar paused for a breath.
“I am living proof that they cannot,” he continued. “If you are watching this video and you are Garde, if you are trapped at Earth Garde’s mockery of a training center, if you are a prisoner of the Foundation—I will find you. I will save you. I will liberate you.”
Isabela got right into Einar’s face, capturing the challenging curl of his upper lip.
“And if you are part of the Foundation or one of their lackeys, know that justice is coming.” He snarled. “The Loric gave us these powers and abandoned us. Forced us to fend for ourselves . . .”
Caleb glanced at Five. He took no exception to this comment, his eye continuously sweeping the area for any sign of trouble.
“This is how we do it,” Einar continued. “By banding together. By not abiding by any law they pass to control us. We will not be their pawns. They will not be our masters.” He pointed first at Sydal, then at Bea. “Beyond their confession here, we have evidence showing how these two human leeches—Wade Sydal and Bea Barnaby—have committed multiple crimes against Garde. By the time you see this, copies of that evidence will have been uploaded. We will hold both of them in our custody until such a time that the governments of the world choose to uphold justice for Garde and pro—”
A shot went off. Not from anyone in the clearing, but from one of the rooftops at the edge of town. Einar and Isabela both flinched.
The bullet hovered inches from Einar’s eye. Caught by Five’s telekinesis.
For a moment, staring at the bullet, Einar looked like he might throw up. Then, he swatted it out of the air and jerked his chin towards the rooftops.
“Five, deal with that, please. Don’t be gentle.”
Wordlessly, Five took off, flying in a blur towards whatever poor bastards were posted on the roofs. Soon, the sound of fruitless gunfire and screams reached Caleb’s ears.
Einar wiped some sweat off his forehead, despite the cold.
“Well, I don’t plan to suffer the fate of every revolutionary just yet,” he muttered. “Duanphen,” he said to the tall girl. “Go get Mrs. Barnaby. I’m afraid my restraint won’t hold if I have to do it. I’ll tend to Sydal.”
Through the mellow haze of Legacy-induced calm, Caleb watched Einar and Isabela approach their group. No one moved. Daniela and Melanie both slumped like they were drugged. Sydal’s guards, too.
Everything is fine, Caleb told himself. It’s all good. Let it happen.
But another part of him fought. Railed against Einar’s control. This wasn’t right. He needed to do something.
A duplicate popped out from Caleb. Just like it had happened a hundred times before, whenever Caleb lost control of his emotions, whenever he tried to suppress a strong feeling.
Except this duplicate was calm. Just like Einar wanted.
Caleb was not.
“I can’t let you do this,” he said, stepping forward to block Einar’s path towards Sydal.
Einar’s eyes widened, then narrowed. He focused on Caleb.
A deeper sense of calm washed over him. A drugged sleepiness.
No. Let one of his other selves feel that.
Caleb created a duplicate that sat down immediately and began sucking his thumb. His own head was clear.
“What . . . ?” Einar stopped in his tracks.
“You said you could keep them calm,” Isabela snapped, staring at Caleb.
“I am,” Einar replied. “He’s . . . doing something.”
“I agree with a lot of what you said,” Caleb said diplomatically. “Things are messed up. But this isn’t the way.”
“Caleb, this is what we wanted!” Isabela said. “Isn’t this what we spent all that time planning? We’re bringing them down! We can be free of all their bullshit . . .”
“No,” Caleb said. “You’re starting a war. You’re teaming up with a psycho who tried to kill our friend.”
Einar’s expression darkened. “Enough,” he growled. “There’s no time for this.”
A wave of fear washed over Caleb. He made another duplicate to take on that emotion. The clone ran screaming back towards town. Caleb himself took another lurching step towards Einar, but now felt telekinetic pressure against his chest. Einar was pushing him back.
“Stop fighting me, Crane,” Einar spat, sweat now soaking the front of his shirt. “This is the way.”
Caleb took another step and howled. One of his fingers had been bent back, twisted by Einar’s telekinesis.
Isabela slapped Einar across the face. “You said you wouldn’t hurt anyone!”
“He’s forcing me,” Einar snapped.
That was all the distraction Caleb needed. He closed the distance. And then there were three of him.
All angry.
“This is for trying to kill Nigel!” The Calebs shouted in stereo.
All of them punched Einar in the face.
He went down, the calm shattered.
And all hell broke loose.