I hold my hand out like a blade and make a small, concentrated fire jet out from my fingers. Push the temperature, get it white-hot, a blowtorch of my own making. Then I set to work.
I’m alone on the observation deck, a small balcony designed to be comfortable by Mogadorian standards, positioned over the bridge. Down below, most of the others are at work preparing for our attack. We’ve got our course set, and, luckily, maintaining altitude and flying in a straight line are things Rex can do on his own. Lexa watches over his shoulder, trying to pick up a few things in case she needs to help pilot later.
There are four weapons stations, one for each quadrant of the warship, and each features an array of buttons that command different guns along with holographic video feeds for aiming. There’s also a fifth station that operates the ship’s main energy cannon, a smaller version of the one on the Anubis that is capable of quickly erasing entire city blocks. According to Adam, there are supposed to be teams of engineers belowdecks to deal with loading power cells and making sure the weapons don’t overheat.
I killed them all, so we’re just going to have to hope nothing explodes or runs out of batteries.
Malcolm sits at one of the weapons stations, getting a crash course in how to operate the guns from Five. Surprisingly, Five is pretty patient with him. I remember back in Chicago when they both first joined us, Sam’s dad was pretty decent to Five. He’s been good to all of us, really. I direct my hearing in their direction as Five’s explanation winds down.
“Do you mind if I ask how you know all this?” Malcolm asks Five.
Five runs a hand over the bristles of hair on his scalp. “I was supposed to command one of these,” he says simply. “At least, that’s what he told me.”
“I see,” Malcolm says. There’s an awkward silence. “Could you show me again how to deploy the chaff?”
“Sure.”
Behind Malcolm and Five, Sam and Adam stand at the commander’s station. Adam is drilling Sam on different functions of the warship. He outlines which consoles control the shields, engines and life support. He gives Sam an idea of which systems are absolutely necessary and which we could lose in a pinch. The hope is that Sam will be able to use his Legacy to communicate with the warship, verbally giving the ship commands to replace the roles of the dozens of crew members we simply don’t have. Six sits nearby, watching them with a bemused smile. I listen in.
“You know,” Six says, “the last time he communicated with a ship, he almost crashed it.”
“Hey,” Sam replies. “That’s not fair.”
Adam frowns at Sam. “Maybe I should be writing some of this down.”
We know the Anubis waits for us in West Virginia. The flagship of the Mogadorian fleet stands between us and Setrákus Ra. We need to take it down with an untrained skeleton crew. Both warships are shielded, but the Anubis has bigger guns. According to Adam, our shields will degrade faster than the Mogs.
Good thing we’re packing more than just their weapons.
I look away from the others at the sound of sizzling in my hands. My white-hot Lumen torch is starting to work.
I hold in my hands the Voron noose that once scarred Setrákus Ra and now has scarred me. On closer inspection since it’s not tied around my throat, the noose’s material looks like a vine you’d find hanging in a jungle, except it has the texture of hardened plastic. Each edge is razor sharp, and as I melt it down, I’m careful not to cut my fingers. The material, found only on Lorien, glows a deep purple as I heat it up and begins to take on a consistency like candle wax. I don’t let the melting material drip to the floor. Instead, I catch it with my telekinesis and begin to reshape it.
When I’m done, I’ve turned the noose into something more like a dagger. It’s about the length of my forearm, with a makeshift handle where I allowed the Voron to bell outward into a guard. The blade itself is diamond shaped, with four edges and a wicked point at the end. I turn it over in my hand, test the weight and slash it back and forth.
This is what I’ll use if they manage to take my Legacies away again. I’ll put this right through Setrákus Ra’s heart.
“Badass,” Nine says from the entranceway.
I was so focused, I didn’t even hear Nine approach. He grins at me, eyeing the blade. I float it over to him with my telekinesis, and he plucks it out of the air, taking a few overhand swings with it.
“Not bad,” he concludes, floating it back to me. “I miss my staff, man. Can’t believe that shit got broken.”