I Am Number Four - Pittacus Lore Page 0,14

is a thin foam pad and a wadded-up spare uniform for a pillow. It’s all we need. I get only a few hours of sleep before an intercom near my head sounds a shrill buzz. Then a voice from the speaker orders me to report to the council room again.

I leap from my sleeping unit, whizzing past the seven below me, landing in a crouch. Then I’m moving through the ship as fast as I can, up the stairs to the higher decks where the trueborn eat, sleep and work.

How many targets will we get today?

My fingers twitch in anticipation.

Thank Beloved Leader for this glorious opportunity.

I’m the first to arrive in the council room, but the other two squad leaders from yesterday follow quickly. They’re as excited as I am to be seeing action.

“Did you bring in all your humans last night?” the vet with the missing teeth asks.

I nod.

“We lost one,” the other says, his dark lips grimacing. “A human was trying to fight us off and shot at everything that moved. Including our target.”

“Idiot weaklings,” the squad leader with the gap-filled grin grunts.

“Had to punish a soldier for it. He’d been toying with the human, playing around. Taunting it. I asked him, ‘What would Beloved Leader think if he knew that you’d gotten his prey killed?’”

“What did he say?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I think I’ve still got some of his ash on my uniform. Ask him yourself.”

The other leader burst out in laughter at this, slapping us both on the back. I tense up, gritting my teeth. I probably would have punished my own squad too if they’d done something so stupid. But this is no laughing matter. We’re here to complete a mission, to follow his orders. Not to joke around. His squad’s failure makes us all look bad.

But I don’t get a chance to comment on that fact. The doors open, and our captain walks in. Immediately, we’re all at attention. This time the reconnaissance officer trails after him. Her head is tattooed in weblike patterns and shaved except for a long, black braid sprouting from the base of her skull.

“Dr. Zakos was thrilled with the work the three of you did last night,” the captain says. His hands are clasped behind his back. “You may not be aware, but the doctor answers to Beloved Leader himself. You’ve brought honor to your names and to this ship. Well done.”

The three of us grunt and nod.

“Today we have a . . . more interesting task for you,” the recon officer says.

She taps on a tablet in her hand, and a video plays on one of the screens lining the walls. Humans in front of some sort of waterfall. Talking to the camera. Pointing to a blue stone.

“This video was uploaded to the internet just a few minutes ago,” the officer continues. “It’s a message for the Loric, but broadcast for anyone in the world to see. It’s possible we’re the first Mogadorians to pick up on it.”

“These appear to be four more ‘human Garde,’” the captain says. “I’m sending all three of your squads to collect them. Assuming they’re still there. Your secondary directive is to investigate the blue stone on the video. Take a laser cutter. Bring back a sample. If this turns out to somehow be Loralite, Beloved Leader will no doubt be pleased. We’ll give you some lead time before we share our discovery with the other captains. I want this to be our victory.”

“This is a big opportunity,” the recon officer says. “Securing the humans and taking control of a possible Loralite deposit will bring glory to you and our ship.”

“As you may have guessed based on the context of the message, it’s possible the Loric or their allies will be there. You’re to exercise extreme caution.” One side of the captain’s lips curls up a little. “And brutality.”

This is better news than I could have expected. Still, something doesn’t sit well with me.

“Sir,” I say, taking a slight step forward. My eyes are on the ground.

“Speak freely, Vintaro,” he says.

“If it’s possible the true Loric Garde might be there, should we not . . .”

I trail off, unsure of how to continue. It’s not my place to question the judgment or commands of my superiors.

“You’re wondering why we don’t send half the fleet to stop them,” the captain finishes my thought.

I don’t respond. It doesn’t matter—he keeps talking.

“Our orders are to secure Chicago. As soon as you’re en route, I’ll put in