growl at me. Almost every morning, always the same thing.”
The beast flails but the man is still in control. Other Garde have joined in, every one of them using a power on the mammoth beast, fire and lightning rainingdown upon it, streaks of lasers coming from all directions. Some Garde are doing damage unseen, standing away from it and holding their hands out in concentration. And then high up a collective storm brews, one major cloud growing and glowing in an otherwise cloudless sky, some sort of energy collecting within it. All Garde are in on it, all of them helping to create this cataclysmic haze. And then a final, massive bolt of lightning drops down and hits the beast where it lies. And there it dies.
“What could I do? What could anyone do? In total there were nineteen of us on that ship. You nine children and us nine Cêpan, chosen by no means other than where we happened to be that night, and the pilot who brought us here. We Cêpan couldn’t fight, and what difference would it have made if we could? The Cêpan are bureaucrats, meant to keep the planet running, meant to teach, meant to train new Garde how to understand and manipulate their powers. We were never meant to be fighters. We would have been ineffective. We would have died like the rest. All we could do was leave. Leave with you to live and to one day restore to glory the most beautiful planet in all of the universe.”
I close my eyes and when I reopen them the fight has ended. Smoke rises from the ground among the dead and the dying. Trees broken, the forests burned,nothing standing save the few Mogadorians that have lived to tell the tale. The sun rising to the south and a pale glow growing on the barren land bathed in red. Mounds of bodies, not all of them intact, not all of them whole. On top of one mound is the man in silver and blue, dead like the rest. There are no discernible marks on his body, but he is dead all the same.
My eyes snap open. I can’t breathe, and my mouth is dry, parched.
“Here,” Henri says. He helps me off the coffee table, guides me into the kitchen and pulls out a chair for me. Tears are coming to my eyes though I try to blink them back. Henri brings me a glass of water and I drink every bit of it without stopping. I give him the glass and he refills it. I drop my head, still struggling to breathe. I drink the second glass, then look at Henri.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about a second ship?” I ask.
“What are you talking about?”
“There was a second ship,” I say.
“Where was there a second ship?”
“On Lorien, the day we left. A second ship that took off after ours.”
“Impossible,” he says.
“Why is it impossible?”
“Because the other ships were destroyed. I saw it with my own eyes. When the Mogadorians landed theytook out our ports first. We traveled in the only ship that survived their offensive. It was a miracle that we made it off.”
“I saw a second ship. I’m telling you. It wasn’t like the others, though. It ran on fuel, a ball of fire following behind it.”
Henri watches me closely. He is thinking hard, his brows crinkled.
“Are you sure, John?”
“Yes.”
He leans back in his chair, looks out the window. Bernie Kosar is on the ground, staring up at us both.
“It made it off Lorien,” I say. “I watched it the whole way until it disappeared.”
“That makes no sense,” Henri says. “I don’t see how it could be possible. There was nothing left.”
“There was a second ship.”
We sit through a long silence.
“Henri?”
“Yes?”
“What was on that ship?”
He fixes me with a stare.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I truly don’t know.”
We sit in the living room, a fire in the hearth, Bernie Kosar in my lap. An occasional pop from the logs breaks the silence.
“On!” I say, and snap my fingers. My right hand illuminates, not as brightly as I’ve seen it before, but close. In the short amount of time since Henri started coaching
The beast flails but the man is still in control. Other Garde have joined in, every one of them using a power on the mammoth beast, fire and lightning rainingdown upon it, streaks of lasers coming from all directions. Some Garde are doing damage unseen, standing away from it and holding their hands out in concentration. And then high up a collective storm brews, one major cloud growing and glowing in an otherwise cloudless sky, some sort of energy collecting within it. All Garde are in on it, all of them helping to create this cataclysmic haze. And then a final, massive bolt of lightning drops down and hits the beast where it lies. And there it dies.
“What could I do? What could anyone do? In total there were nineteen of us on that ship. You nine children and us nine Cêpan, chosen by no means other than where we happened to be that night, and the pilot who brought us here. We Cêpan couldn’t fight, and what difference would it have made if we could? The Cêpan are bureaucrats, meant to keep the planet running, meant to teach, meant to train new Garde how to understand and manipulate their powers. We were never meant to be fighters. We would have been ineffective. We would have died like the rest. All we could do was leave. Leave with you to live and to one day restore to glory the most beautiful planet in all of the universe.”
I close my eyes and when I reopen them the fight has ended. Smoke rises from the ground among the dead and the dying. Trees broken, the forests burned,nothing standing save the few Mogadorians that have lived to tell the tale. The sun rising to the south and a pale glow growing on the barren land bathed in red. Mounds of bodies, not all of them intact, not all of them whole. On top of one mound is the man in silver and blue, dead like the rest. There are no discernible marks on his body, but he is dead all the same.
My eyes snap open. I can’t breathe, and my mouth is dry, parched.
“Here,” Henri says. He helps me off the coffee table, guides me into the kitchen and pulls out a chair for me. Tears are coming to my eyes though I try to blink them back. Henri brings me a glass of water and I drink every bit of it without stopping. I give him the glass and he refills it. I drop my head, still struggling to breathe. I drink the second glass, then look at Henri.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about a second ship?” I ask.
“What are you talking about?”
“There was a second ship,” I say.
“Where was there a second ship?”
“On Lorien, the day we left. A second ship that took off after ours.”
“Impossible,” he says.
“Why is it impossible?”
“Because the other ships were destroyed. I saw it with my own eyes. When the Mogadorians landed theytook out our ports first. We traveled in the only ship that survived their offensive. It was a miracle that we made it off.”
“I saw a second ship. I’m telling you. It wasn’t like the others, though. It ran on fuel, a ball of fire following behind it.”
Henri watches me closely. He is thinking hard, his brows crinkled.
“Are you sure, John?”
“Yes.”
He leans back in his chair, looks out the window. Bernie Kosar is on the ground, staring up at us both.
“It made it off Lorien,” I say. “I watched it the whole way until it disappeared.”
“That makes no sense,” Henri says. “I don’t see how it could be possible. There was nothing left.”
“There was a second ship.”
We sit through a long silence.
“Henri?”
“Yes?”
“What was on that ship?”
He fixes me with a stare.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I truly don’t know.”
We sit in the living room, a fire in the hearth, Bernie Kosar in my lap. An occasional pop from the logs breaks the silence.
“On!” I say, and snap my fingers. My right hand illuminates, not as brightly as I’ve seen it before, but close. In the short amount of time since Henri started coaching
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