Pittacus Lore - The Fall of Five

“I assembled the Greeters myself. They were people I could trust—like-minded scientists working on the fringes. But I can’t remember their names or even their faces. The Mogadorians saw to that.”

My dad picks up his glass of champagne with a shaky hand and takes a quick drink. He makes a bitter face, like it didn’t help ease the pain of memory. Or lack thereof.

“We all knew the risks,” my dad continues, eventually. “We took them gladly. It was a chance to be part of something amazing. I still believe that,” he says with a note of pride, looking around at the Garde. “Just as the Mogadorians were searching for you, so were they searching for us. Obviously we were easier to find—we’d been living on Earth all our lives, you see. We had families. One by one they tracked us down. They hooked us up to machines, tried to rip out our memories, looking for anything that would help them in their hunt. It’s why there are so many things I’m still foggy on. I don’t know if the harm they did to me can ever be fixed.”

Ella shoots a look at Marina, then John. “Could you guys heal him?”

“We could try,” Marina replies, studying my dad. “I’ve never tried healing someone’s mind before, though.”

My dad runs a hand across his beard, frowning. “I was the only one that survived. I lost years to those bastards.” He looks over at me. “I intend to pay them back.”

“How did you escape them?” John asks.

“I had help. The Mogadorians had me sedated for years in a catatonic state, waking me up only when they had a new experiment to run on my mind. Eventually, though, a boy set me free.”

“A boy?” Marina asks, her eyebrow raised.

“I don’t get it,” Eight says. “How did someone manage to get into a Mog base? Was he one of the government agents? And why did he help you?”

Before my father can answer, Five speaks up. The way he’s eyeballing my dad, it’s like he’s already pieced together the entire story. “He wasn’t human, was he?”

My dad looks first at Five, then over at John before turning his gaze on me. “He called himself Adam, but his actual name was Adamus. He was a Mogadorian.”

“A Mogadorian helped you?” Marina asks quietly, as everyone else stares at my dad in stunned silence.

Nine stands up suddenly, looking over at John. “Dude, this has trap written all over it. We have to lock this place down.”

John raises a hand, trying to placate Nine. None of the others stand up with Nine, which is a relief. Still, they’re looking at each other anxiously and, even though I trust the Garde, I’m suddenly worried that they might not trust my dad.

“Calm down,” John tells Nine. “We need the whole story here. Malcolm, what you’re saying is pretty crazy.”

“I know, believe me,” he replies. “What I learned is that there are two kinds of Mogadorians. Some of them are grown through genetic engineering—they call them vat- born. I believe they’re like the throwaway soldiers you’ve run into so often. The hideous ones that could never pass for human. They’re bred simply for killing. And then there are others, they call themselves Trueborn. They are the ruling class. Adam was one of them, the son of a Mogadorian general.”

“Interesting,” Eight says. “I’ve never thought of how their society works.”

“Who cares?” growls Nine. He’s standing with his hands on the back of his chair, like he’s ready to fling it. “Get to the part that proves this isn’t some Mogadorian setup.”

“They experimented on Adam with the same machines they used on my memory,” my father continues, not deterred by the rising tension. “They had the body of a Garde— Number One, I believe—and they tried to download her memories into him, thinking it would help them find the rest of you.”

“Her body,” Marina says quietly. “That’s sick.”

My dad nods in agreement. “It didn’t work the way the Mogadorians intended. Exposed to One’s memories, I believe Adam developed doubts about his people. He rebelled. In the process, he helped me escape and find Sam.”

Nine shakes his head. “This is the kind of double-agent shit they love to pull,” he insists.

“You met this Mog kid?” Six asks me.

Now everyone’s looking at me with the same scrutiny they were just using on my dad. I clear my throat, feeling uncomfortable. “Yeah. He was at the Dulce Base. He held off a squadron of Mogs while my dad and I escaped.”

My dad frowns, looking down at the table. “I fear he didn’t survive the battle.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” grumbles Nine, finally retaking his seat.

“There’s something else . . . ,” I say, glancing hesitantly at my father, wondering exactly how I should phrase this next revelation.

“What is it, Sam?” John asks.

“During the fight, he—he made the ground shake. It was like he had a Legacy.”

“Bullshit on top of bullshit,” snorts Nine.

“It’s true,” counters my dad. “I forgot about that. Something happened to him during the experiment.”

Ella speaks up, a note of fear in her voice. “Is that true? They can steal our powers?”

“I don’t think he stole the Legacy,” my dad clarifies. “He said it was a gift from the Loric.”

Eight looks around. “You guys remember giving any Mogadorians gifts?”

John folds his arms across his chest. “It doesn’t seem like it should be possible.”

“I’m sorry this news upsets you,” my dad says, looking around. “I wanted to tell you everything, even the unpleasant details.”

“Is it really that bad?” asks Marina. “I mean, if one of the Mogadorians could understand they’re doing wrong, wouldn’t others . . .”

“You want to count on them getting sympathetic now?” snaps Nine, and Marina stops talking.

Something occurs to me then, maybe because we’d spent so much time talking about how the Garde developed their Legacies and listening to my dad’s new details on their home world. “Your Legacies come from Lorien, right?”

“That’s what Henri told me,” John says.

“Katarina too,” adds Six.

“So, if that’s the case, it doesn’t seem like something that could just be ripped away by some Mog technology. I mean, if they could do that, they’d have stolen more powers from Lorien by now, right?”

“What’re you saying?” John asks, his eyebrows raised.

“Well, I guess I’m saying . . . what if Adam inherited that Legacy because One wanted him to?”

On one side of me, Nine snorts derisively. On the other side, my dad makes a thoughtful noise in his throat, stroking his chin. “Interesting theory,” he says.

“Yeah, whatever,” Nine says, leaning forward to peer at my dad. “You’re sure this wasn’t some elaborate Mog trap? You’re sure they weren’t tailing you?”

“I’m sure of it,” my dad replies with authority.

Down the table, Five chuckles. He’s been silent for most of the Adam discussion. Now, he looks around incredulously. “I’m sorry, but half the stories you guys just told me involved humans betraying you to the Mogadorians.” He waves a hand at us. “These two were actually in contact with the Mogs, like, weeks ago. Hanging out. And you’re just going to trust them?”

John doesn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he says, looking Five right in the eyes. “I trust them with my life. And if this Mogadorian defector is still alive, we’re going to find him.”

I can’t sleep that night. Stretched out on the choicest couch in Nine’s showroom of a living room, I should’ve slept like a baby. It was a huge upgrade over the stiff, flea-bitten motel beds my dad and I had been enduring, not to mention the wonderful accommodations of Setrákus Ra.