in line too, forming a ring around him as we move.
We will serve him until we are nothing but dust.
“I will destroy every speck of life for miles,” Beloved Leader growls as we start up the ship’s ramp. “Everything beneath us will burn, and once we’ve wiped out the Loric and their allies, I’ll dig the remnants of the Sanctuary from the ground myself.”
“Not even their bones will remain,” I say.
We’re near the top of the ramp when something in the air changes.
Wind hits us, a hurricane gale that must be the work of the Garde. Debris—rocks, metal, biting sand—slams into us, causing me to cover my face with my arms as I take a few steps backwards, trying to brace myself.
Beloved Leader stands strong, though. He turns to face the wind and holds a hand out, palm open. The wind fighting against us dies down, but I can feel some other force in the air as he grins. He is so powerful, his might driving our enemies back. The battlefield of the Sanctuary explodes with shrapnel and chunks of stones.
This is what our victory looks like.
Beside me, Beloved Leader laughs.
I see the projectile too late—I am always too late. It’s hardly a glint of metal in the air before it hits him; a piece of the broken pipeline is buried in Beloved Leader’s chest.
The sound of his laughter turns into a gasp as he doubles over, stumbling back.
“No!” I scream, rushing back to his side.
In that moment, despite the blasters continuing to sound around us, there is only me and Setrákus Ra, huddled together in the entryway of the Anubis, my body blocking him from further attacks. The rest of the world—the universe—ceases to exist.
He looks down at the shrapnel in his chest and then up at me.
“Inside,” he grunts, dark blood dripping over his lips.
I move as quickly as I can, shouting to the others to help me. We pull him into his ship. We’re barely clear when I slam a hand down on the controls that close the loading door, shielding us.
Chaos breaks out in the loading area as all the troops start shouting at once. One of the low-ranking trueborn steps forward.
“We should pull the pipe out, right?” he asks, a little uncertain.
“You won’t touch him,” I say.
“If I were him, I’d want—”
“But you are not him.” I fire one shot directly into the soldier’s head. His augmentations begin to disintegrate before he hits the ground. The others back away. I am a trueborn commander, and even if my military record has been tarnished as of late, I’m likely the highest-ranking person in the docking bay.
Other than Beloved Leader, long may he reign.
The front of his armor is slick with inky blood leaking from the wound. There’s something strange in his eyes, so unexpected from him that it takes me a moment to recognize the emotion as shock.
He struggles to get up, batting away the troops who try to offer him assistance. His eyes meet mine, and he whispers two words.
“Crush them.”
Then he collapses onto the floor.
CHAPTER TWO
WE SOMEHOW MANAGE TO GET OUR HIGH COMMANDER into the nearby elevator. His body is heavy, almost too much for us to carry. His ragged, gurgling breaths fill my ears. If it were anybody else, I would assume that he was near death, but I know this is no normal Mogadorian in front of me. He is forever, immortal. This is a momentary setback. Not even that—it must be part of his plan, something he has foreseen.
As we rise through the Anubis, the other troops in the elevator with me are silent except for occasional outbursts.
“Hail our Beloved Leader!”
“Long may he reign!”
“Praise his name!”
When the doors open, a few medical staff are waiting for us. It’s fortunate we’re on the Anubis, as doctors are hard to come by on Mogadorian vessels, even on the warships. It’s usually not worth the trouble of trying to heal or treat the vatborn when more can so easily be created. As for the trueborn, it’s sometimes better—or more honorable—to die on the battlefield than return a disappointment.
At first the doctors are afraid to even touch Beloved Leader, but I bark at them, and he’s hoisted onto a gurney. He grunts, and then he’s rushed to the medical bay.
I start to follow, but then something occurs to me: we’re still parked at the Sanctuary. Our enemies are somewhere just outside, and our commander is currently unconscious.
Who will lead us?
What would Beloved Leader have us