I Am Number Four - Pittacus Lore Page 0,21

many innocent lives will we take? How many of those places I’d passed through and people I’d met on my way from Dulce to Plum Island will be annihilated?

I splash some cold water on my face and try to shake the doubt away. Since I’m a trueborn, I have my own sleeping quarters and bathroom, though it’s nothing special. I can touch almost every wall when I stand in the middle of the floor. It’s still better than the group barracks the vatborn are stuck with. At least here I get a little privacy, some time alone with my thoughts. It’s a blessing and a curse.

I throw on my uniform and hustle down the hallway, the footfalls of my boots echoing off the metal floor. When I get to the council room, most of the other officers are already there, sitting around the big, oval table. I take a seat beside Mirra.

“Good morning,” I murmur.

She doesn’t look up from the readouts on a tablet in her lap, but nods and makes a hmmmm noise. It’s not exactly a “Good morning to you too,” but it could almost be mistaken for a greeting. I’ll take it.

I tap on the table in front of me, and the glossy black surface folds open, revealing a small computer terminal. I log in, bringing up our current position and the ship’s diagnostics. We’ve barely shifted an inch since I went to sleep last night. I guess you don’t become the most feared species in the universe without some damned fine engineering.

Eventually almost a dozen officers take seats at the table. When Captain Jax-Har enters, we all stand. He waves a hand, and in unison we sit, a well-oiled machine. He stops at one end of the room, staring at the shiny tabletop, maybe at his own reflection in it. The space around his eyes is always dark, but it looks like he hasn’t slept all night.

Something is definitely going on.

Finally, Jax-Har begins to talk.

“Earlier this morning a group of humans who we believe to be among those with newly developed Loric powers posted a video on the internet. It showed these Earth scum arriving at a landmark known as Niagara Falls, just on the other side of the body of Lake Ontario, which we’re currently stationed above. The video also shows a blue stone that we believe to be Loralite, a mineral with astounding properties. A mineral that’s very valuable to Beloved Leader. Somehow, the Loric are using this to transport their new troops across the planet.”

Beside him, Denbar nods. He’s obviously in the loop on this.

“Digital scouts on the warship stationed over Chicago were the first to pick up on this video.” Jax-Har pauses long enough to glare at the officer in charge of our own research and reconnaissance efforts. “In response, they sent three Skimmers to investigate.”

There’s grumbling around the table about how it should have been our troops who picked up these targets. Since the first reports of so-called “Human Garde,” Beloved Leader has made it known that capturing the anomalies are a high priority.

I’m pretty sure I can hear Mirra grinding her teeth beside me. I bet she would’ve loved to have captured those targets herself.

The captain continues.

“The Skimmers reported in shortly before reaching Niagara Falls and haven’t been heard from since. Due to the Chicago captain’s insistence that the site was their find, we only learned of their operation within the last hour. I sent our own forces to investigate. They found the wreckage from our ships but no one alive—Mogadorian or human. There was evidence that the troops sent from Chicago were killed.”

From what I understand, these powered humans are largely untrained and not so much threats as nuisances and subjects to be studied. Several specimens have been picked up across the planet with little to no resistance. It seems they’re just as confused by what’s happened to them as we are.

So who took down these Skimmers? The real Garde? Their allies? Human resistance forces?

“There have been other recent . . . setbacks.” Jax-Har starts to walk around the table, letting his heavy boots thud against the floor. “What I’m about to discuss is top-clearance information that doesn’t leave this room. As trueborn Mogadorians of honor, I am trusting your silence. Know that betraying this trust will be considered treason, and if I so much as suspect you of breathing a word of this to anyone else, or even to each other, I’ll put my own blade through your