I Am Number Four - Pittacus Lore Page 0,17

the Loric aren’t far behind.” His face lights up. “Wait, is this some kinda test or something? Because I think we’re acing it, mate.”

My blaster lies on the ground between us. The boy opens his palm, and the blaster flies into his hand. Over his shoulder, I see one of the other Skimmers going down. There’s something hazy about it. Like it’s been covered in some kind of cloud or swarm. It crashes into the water.

I try to stand. That’s when I realize the rod has gone completely through me. The back end is embedded in a tree. I twist my body in an attempt to dislodge it. That’s when the pain comes.

I yell. The boy holds the blaster up, aiming at my face. Based on the angle, it looks like he’ll miss. But if I stay here, he’ll hit me eventually.

I won’t let this child end me. I have only one option. Maybe I’ll even survive. Maybe the wounds aren’t that bad.

With every ounce of strength in my body, I lunge forward. There’s a sickening, wet sound as I slide off the metal. I feel a blast of heat shoot by my ear, searing the air. The kid missed.

But he’s not really my concern now.

“Oof,” the kid says. “Looks like you’re already dead.”

I crawl forward on my knees. Dark liquid gushes from the hole in my chest, covering me. Coating the leaves. I look down at my hands. They’re turning gray. A bomb of exclamations goes off in my head.

You’ve failed! Kill them! It hurts! Don’t let this human beat you!

And then comes the loudest of all as my fingers start to break apart. Disintegrating.

Hail our Beloved Leader! Forever may he . . .

PART THREE

REXICUS SATURNUS

CHAPTER ELEVEN

STANDING IN THE CENTER OF THE GREAT GLASS window on our warship’s bridge, I have an unobstructed view of the invasion of Earth.

It’s surprisingly quiet, as if the humans have already accepted their fate, choosing compliance over opposition. This is good for us. It means that when we actually come down out of our warships and take the planet, we won’t be met with much resistance.

And yet, despite knowing this, I can’t shake an uncomfortable feeling in the back of my mind. Something almost like guilt.

I think I might actually feel sorry for the humans.

They’re fighting back in other places like New York and Beijing, of course, where my people are doing what the Great Book says is our purpose in life. In those cities, our ground troops are seeing action, flexing their trigger fingers, bathing in the blood of those who stand against them while our pilots rain fire from above, destroying any who would oppose Mogadorian Progress. Domination through combat. No one can hope to stop us. The Garde—or the humans who’ve somehow gained powers in the last few days—don’t stand a chance against the vastness of our armies. And neither do their allies. Be they human, Loric or something else. Eventually, all of them will be nothing but dust. Forgotten.

Just like the rest of us. Except Setrákus Ra, I guess. He’ll rule our people forever if the Great Book is to be believed. Though, he did write that himself, so we only have his word to go off of. Fortunately for him we grow up reading his manifesto, so we never even think to ask if it’s true.

Most of us.

With all its talk of war and honor, the Great Book left out how much waiting can be involved in an invasion. In Toronto, where I’m stationed, though, things are fairly calm aside from a few of our patrols keeping watch over the streets below. I’m not in the thick of it. I guess I should consider myself lucky for being assigned to such a quiet location, especially after everything I went through in Dulce and Plum Island. I was given a slight promotion after “capturing” the traitor Adamus. No one knew I’d actually helped him escape, obviously, because I’m still alive. When he broke out and that Plum Island facility was closed down, I had some options as to where to go next. I asked to be reassigned to a warship. Something about being on Earth had started to make me feel uncomfortable. Or maybe too comfortable. I liked it too much.

I needed to clear my head and try to make sense of everything that had happened.

Fortunately, as a trueborn, I’d done a lot of training on how warships are run, so after a few crash course refreshers, I ended