The Fate of Ten
Page 22

There’s the Ella I’m hugging and then there’s the Ella frozen in time, still pinned down to the operating table beneath the Mogadorian machines, surrounded by enemies. I can’t help looking past the Ella in my arms and staring at the horrific results of her Mogadorian imprisonment. She looks pale and drained, streaks of gray running through her auburn hair. There are already black veins visible beneath her skin. A chill runs through me and I force myself to look away, squeezing Ella a little tighter.
The hug ends and Ella peers up at me. This version of her looks almost as I remember—wide-eyed and innocent—although there’s a tiredness around her eyes, a kind of weary wisdom, that wasn’t there the last time I saw her. I can’t imagine what she’s been through.
“What are they doing to you?” I ask, my voice quiet.
“Setrákus Ra calls it his Gift,” Ella says, her lips curling in disgust. She looks over her shoulder, watching herself get experimented upon, and hugs herself. “The stuff he’s putting into me, I’m not sure where it comes from. It’s the same weirdo genetic crap he grows the vatborn warriors from. It’s the stuff he used to augment some of the humans—you know about that?”
I nod, thinking of Secretary of Defense Sanderson and the cancerous resistance I felt in his body when I healed him.
“He’s doing it to you. His own—” I still hesitate to say this part out loud. “His own flesh and blood.”
Ella nods sadly. “For the second time.”
I remember how out of it Ella seemed during the battle at the United Nations. “He did it to you before the big public appearance,” I say, putting the pieces together. “Drugged you up so you couldn’t ruin his moment.”
“It was punishment for trying to escape with Five. The Gift . . . it makes it hard for me to focus, at least when I’m awake. I’m not sure how, but he uses it to control me. It could be related to one of his Legacies. I tried to figure out everything he can do, John, I tried to stop him, but . . .”
Ella’s shoulders slump. I place my hand gently on the back of her neck.
“You did everything you could,” I tell her.
She snorts. “Uh-huh.”
I take a long look at the machine Ella’s hooked up to, trying to memorize the details. Maybe if we ever manage to hook back up with Adam, he can shed some light on how exactly this thing works.
“He’s not controlling you now,” I say, gesturing around to the frozen-in-time Mogadorian operating theater. “You’re doing this. You’re still fighting him.”
“I’ve been able to hide that I’m telepathic,” Ella replies, straightening up a bit. “Whenever he hurts me, I hide inside my own mind. I practice. My Legacies are getting stronger. I could sense you down there from on board the Anubis. I was able to pull you into my, um . . . my dream? Whatever this is.”
“Just like in Chicago,” I muse, trying to work this out. “Only, you needed to touch me that time.”
“Not anymore. I guess I’m getting stronger.”
I give Ella’s shoulder a squeeze. This should be a proud moment, her coming into her own, learning to master such a powerful Legacy when she’s still so young. But our situation is too dire for any real congratulations.
I look across the medical bay towards the door, then back at Ella.
“Can you show me around?” I ask. “Is that even possible?”
Ella manages a shaky smile. “You want the tour?”
“It might come in handy to know what the ship’s like. For when I get up here and rescue you.”
Ella lets out a mirthless laugh, looking away from me. I hope that she hasn’t given up hope. The odds might seem bad now, but I won’t let her stay Setrákus Ra’s pet grandchild forever. I will find a way. Before I can tell her all that, Ella nods.
“I can show you around. I’ve been all over this ship. If I’ve seen it, then it’s stored up here,” Ella says, tapping her temple.
We step out of the medical bay and into the hallway. It’s all stainless metal walls lit by dull red lighting, a cold and economical place. Ella leads me through the Anubis, showing me the observation deck, the control room, the barracks, all these areas completely empty. I try to commit every detail to memory so that I can draw a map when I wake up.
“Where are all the Mogs?” I ask her.
“Most of them are down in the city. The Anubis only has a skeleton crew now.”
“Good to know.”
Deep down in the ship, we pause in front of a glass window that looks into another laboratory. Inside, the floor is completely taken up by a vat of viscous black liquid. There are two catwalks crisscrossing over the vat, each one equipped with a variety of control panels, monitoring equipment and, oddly enough, heavy-duty mounted blasters. Growing out of the liquid is an oblong shape that vaguely resembles an egg, except it’s covered in dark purple mold and throbbing black veins.
I press my hand to the laboratory glass and turn to Ella. “What the hell is this place?”
“I don’t know,” she replies. “He doesn’t let me in there. But . . .”
Ella knuckles her forehead and appears to strain for a moment. Inside the laboratory, figures suddenly manifest. A half-dozen Mogs wearing gas masks stand on the catwalks, silently operating the strange machines. Standing among them is Setrákus Ra himself. Seeing him there causes me to flinch towards the glass. I have to resist the urge to attack him, reminding myself that this isn’t exactly real.