“Your father is the Supreme Chancellor!” I say in shock.
“What? Your source never mentioned that?” Kyon asks sarcastically. He gives me a derisive look. “Maybe he assumed you knew.”
“Maybe I should start paying my sources,” I mutter.
On the desk between us, light flickers from the holographic images projected there. Crystal-blue water and a golden sun become the backdrop to the monstrous black stage formed by the mouth of the open aircraft. A troop of miniature soldiers acts out a strange scene as they spill out into the water on the edge of the beach, igniting smoke canisters that act as heavy, red-roiling smoky curtains on the peripherals of the stage.
The soldiers quickly divide into two units. Armed with wicked weaponry, mainly riflelike guns called frestons that can be set to project electro-pulses, laser projectiles, or bulletlike ammunition, the first unit moves forward. They have black utility belts that hold spare battery cartridges, clipped around their combat armor. The belts have heat seekers and silver cylinders known as sanctum amps that Hollis once told me explode when they’re thrown. “I take it you’re not close to your dad.”
“We don’t enjoy each other’s company,” Kyon replies. My stomach is in knots. I want to run to the door of his office and bar it, but a closed door won’t stop them, not with the guns they have.
I look past the scene playing out in front of me, to Kyon. The images from the hologram form light patterns on his face. “I need another weapon,” I say urgently. “I left my knife in the bedroom.”
Kyon smiles at me as if I’ve just said something funny. “You’ll be fine, Kricket.” He points at the hologram. My eyes pan back to it, catching sight of a ripple appearing beneath the sand near the house. A shock wave moves outward so fast that the sand swallows the first unit before they can take another step.
I blink in disbelief. “Where’d they go?” I whisper.
Kyon glances up at me from the hologram. “They’ve been buried alive. The defensive systems on the island are following protection protocols.”
The second unit of soldiers near the water scream out names of the missing. Nothing stirs beneath the white waves of sand, though. A tall, blond soldier becomes frantic; he runs to where the first unit was last seen, jackknifes into the quicksand, and disappears from sight. Kyon shakes his head and murmurs, “There’s always someone who loses his mind and does that. You can’t train that out of them.”
The soldier Kyon referred to doesn’t resurface. The others retreat back into the shadowy recesses of their dark ship. “Are they leaving?” I ask hopefully. My sweaty hands clutch the edge of the desk.
Kyon shakes his head. “They’re under orders to retrieve you. Should they return without you, they’ll be executed. Better to die here.”
Kyon is right. The Strikers soon reappear in the doorway of their aircraft. Clad in Riker Paks, blue flames kindle from beneath the two fuselage-shaped canisters on each soldier’s jet pack. They lift off from the shore one by one and fly toward the house.
The house’s defenses react. A scorching wave of fiery light rolls out in concentric circles from spouts on the eaves. The fire ignites the airborne Strikers, shorting out their jet packs while it burns them. They fall from the sky, and the hungry sand greets them, extinguishing the flames as it pulls their charred carcasses under.
Oscil’s silky fem-bot voice startles me. “All foreign life-forms have been terminated,” it states.
I shiver. Kyon looks away from the hologram on the desk and over to the bank of screens that show different aspects of the island and the interior of the house. He’s tense; his jaw is rigid. He studies the other ships that can come no closer to the shore.
“Can they get past your shield?”
“No.”
“How long do you think they’ll sit out there?” I ask, while worrying a piece of my hair between my fingers.
“It’s intimidation. They’re letting me know that although they can’t get in, we will not be allowed to leave without detection.” He glances at my face. “I hadn’t planned on leaving anytime soon, but when I do, it won’t matter who’s out there to greet us.”
Oscil breaks in again. “Incoming transmission from Excelsior Ensin.”
Kyon leans back in his seat. I wait for him to answer the message, but he makes no move to do so. I raise my eyebrow. “Are you going to answer that?” I ask.