follow-up question, the obsidian eye in the cane’s handle flashes. I flinch, but it quickly becomes clear that I’m not in any danger. Instead, it’s Setrákus Ra who begins to convulse. Bands of red and purple light project from the Eye of Thaloc and scan over his body. Although I don’t exactly know how, I can sense energy moving from the cane into Setrákus Ra. He writhes and contorts as his skin peels away from his body, expanding outward and shifting, like a bubble forming in candlewax.
When it’s over, Setrákus Ra looks human. Actually, he looks like a movie star. He’s assumed the form of a handsome older guy in his mid-forties, with immaculately arranged salt-and-pepper hair, soulful blue eyes and just a modest amount of stubble. He’s tall, but no longer intimidatingly so, and he’s wearing a stylish blue suit and pressed dress shirt, casually open at the collar. Of his previous appearance, only the three Loric pendants remain, their cobalt jewels matching his shirt.
‘Better?’ he asks, his usual scratchy voice replaced by this man’s smooth baritone.
‘What …?’ I look at him, dumbfounded. ‘Who are you supposed to be?’
‘I chose this form for the humans,’ he explains. ‘Our research shows they’re naturally drawn to middle-aged Caucasian men of these specifications. Apparently, they find them leaderly and trustworthy.’
‘Why …’ I try to gather my thoughts. ‘What do you mean, it’s
for the humans
?’
Setrákus Ra gestures towards my plate. ‘Eat and I will answer your questions. That’s not unreasonable, is it? I believe the humans call it quid pro quo.’
I look down at my plate and the pale blob waiting for me there. I think about Six and Nine and the rest of the Garde and wonder what they would do in my situation. It seems like Setrákus Ra wants to spill his guts, so I should probably let him. Maybe while he’s trying to subtly win me over, he’ll let slip the secret to beating the Mogadorians. If that even exists. Either way, taking a bite of the boiled slug on my plate seems like a small price to pay if it means gathering some important information. I shouldn’t think of my situation as being held prisoner; it’s more like I’m on a mission behind enemy lines.
I’m a freaking spy.
I pick up my knife and fork, cut a small square off the edge of the meat and plop it into my mouth. There’s hardly any taste at all, it’s almost like chewing a wadded-up ball of notebook paper. It’s the texture that really bothers me – the way the meat starts to fizz and melt as soon as it touches my tongue, breaking down so quickly that I don’t even really chew. I can’t help but think of the way Mogadorians disintegrate when they’re killed and have to stop myself from gagging.
‘It isn’t what you’re used to, but it’s the best the
Anubis
is equipped to produce,’ Setrákus Ra says, almost apologetically. ‘The food will improve once we’ve taken Earth.’
I ignore him, not really caring about the finer points of Mogadorian cuisine. ‘I ate, now answer my question.’
He inclines his head, looking charmed by my directness. ‘I chose this form because the humans will find it comforting. It’s what I will wear to accept surrender of their planet.’
I gape at him. ‘They’re not going to surrender to you.’
He smiles. ‘Of course they will. Unlike the Loric, who pointlessly fight against impossible odds, the humans have a rich history of subjugation. They appreciate demonstrations of superior force and will gladly accept the tenets of Mogadorian Progress. And those who don’t will perish.’
‘Mogadorian “Progress.” ’ I spit the words. ‘What are you even talking about? You’re going to make everyone like you? A mon –’
I don’t finish my question. I was going to call him a monster, but then I thought back to my vision. I callously ordered Six’s execution right in front of John, Sam and a crowd of people. What if something like
When it’s over, Setrákus Ra looks human. Actually, he looks like a movie star. He’s assumed the form of a handsome older guy in his mid-forties, with immaculately arranged salt-and-pepper hair, soulful blue eyes and just a modest amount of stubble. He’s tall, but no longer intimidatingly so, and he’s wearing a stylish blue suit and pressed dress shirt, casually open at the collar. Of his previous appearance, only the three Loric pendants remain, their cobalt jewels matching his shirt.
‘Better?’ he asks, his usual scratchy voice replaced by this man’s smooth baritone.
‘What …?’ I look at him, dumbfounded. ‘Who are you supposed to be?’
‘I chose this form for the humans,’ he explains. ‘Our research shows they’re naturally drawn to middle-aged Caucasian men of these specifications. Apparently, they find them leaderly and trustworthy.’
‘Why …’ I try to gather my thoughts. ‘What do you mean, it’s
for the humans
?’
Setrákus Ra gestures towards my plate. ‘Eat and I will answer your questions. That’s not unreasonable, is it? I believe the humans call it quid pro quo.’
I look down at my plate and the pale blob waiting for me there. I think about Six and Nine and the rest of the Garde and wonder what they would do in my situation. It seems like Setrákus Ra wants to spill his guts, so I should probably let him. Maybe while he’s trying to subtly win me over, he’ll let slip the secret to beating the Mogadorians. If that even exists. Either way, taking a bite of the boiled slug on my plate seems like a small price to pay if it means gathering some important information. I shouldn’t think of my situation as being held prisoner; it’s more like I’m on a mission behind enemy lines.
I’m a freaking spy.
I pick up my knife and fork, cut a small square off the edge of the meat and plop it into my mouth. There’s hardly any taste at all, it’s almost like chewing a wadded-up ball of notebook paper. It’s the texture that really bothers me – the way the meat starts to fizz and melt as soon as it touches my tongue, breaking down so quickly that I don’t even really chew. I can’t help but think of the way Mogadorians disintegrate when they’re killed and have to stop myself from gagging.
‘It isn’t what you’re used to, but it’s the best the
Anubis
is equipped to produce,’ Setrákus Ra says, almost apologetically. ‘The food will improve once we’ve taken Earth.’
I ignore him, not really caring about the finer points of Mogadorian cuisine. ‘I ate, now answer my question.’
He inclines his head, looking charmed by my directness. ‘I chose this form because the humans will find it comforting. It’s what I will wear to accept surrender of their planet.’
I gape at him. ‘They’re not going to surrender to you.’
He smiles. ‘Of course they will. Unlike the Loric, who pointlessly fight against impossible odds, the humans have a rich history of subjugation. They appreciate demonstrations of superior force and will gladly accept the tenets of Mogadorian Progress. And those who don’t will perish.’
‘Mogadorian “Progress.” ’ I spit the words. ‘What are you even talking about? You’re going to make everyone like you? A mon –’
I don’t finish my question. I was going to call him a monster, but then I thought back to my vision. I callously ordered Six’s execution right in front of John, Sam and a crowd of people. What if something like
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