“He called himself Pittacus Lore. ”
Nine scoffs and shoots John a look. “Everyone thinks they’re Pittacus!”
“You’re saying you met an Elder?” John says, ignoring Nine. “Or someone claiming to be an Elder?”
“What did he look like? What did he say?” Ella asks.
“First, he told me he that his injuries were caused by a hostile alien race that would soon be coming to Earth. He told me he would not survive the night and . . . he wasn’t wrong. ” My dad closes his eyes, willing his brain to work. “Pittacus told me much in the short time he had left, but I’m afraid the details are fuzzy. He asked me to prepare a group of humans to receive you, to help your Cêpans get on the run, to provide guidance. I was the first of the Greeters. ”
“What else did he tell you?” John asks, sitting forward eagerly.
“One thing I remember is about your Chests. The Inheritances. He told me they would each contain something—he called them Phoenix Stones, I think—taken from the heart of Lorien. Although he called them stones, I don’t think we need to take that literally. The Phoenix Stones could come in any shape or form. And when restored to your planet, these items should jumpstart the ecosystem. I believe, right now, you are in possession of the tools to bring your home world back to life. ”
Marina and Eight exchange an excited look, perhaps thinking about that lush Lorien that John’s always going on about.
“But what about the Chests we’ve already lost?” Six asks. “I thought the contents were destroyed when their Garde dies. ”
My dad shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t have an answer to that. I can only hope that what remains of your Inheritance will be enough. ”
“Look, restoring Lorien is cool and all,” Nine says, “but I’m not hearing anything that’s going to help us kill Mogadorians or protect Earth. ”
“My Cêpan told me each of us would inherit the Legacies of an Elder,” Eight says. “I always thought I was Pittacus, but . . . ” He glances over at John, then shrugs. “Did he tell you anything about that?”
“No,” my dad replies. “At least, not that I can remember right now. When your Cêpan said you’d inherit the Legacies of an Elder, he might not have been speaking literally. It could have been a metaphor for the roles you will grow up to take on in a rebuilt Lorien society. It can’t be as simple as you becoming the Elders, because three of you are already lost. And Ella’s presence here seems to indicate that nothing is so cut and dry. ”
“So we’re just as in the dark as we were before,” Six says curtly, then looks over at me. “Not that it isn’t an interesting story. ”
“Hold on,” says John, still mulling over what my dad said. “There’s definitely information we can use. The Chests, for instance. We need to take an inventory, see if we can figure out which of our items are these Phoenix things. ”
“Probably anything that doesn’t stab, shoot or explode,” offers Nine helpfully.
“I’ll try to help you there, if I can,” my dad offers. “Seeing the contents of your Chests might jog something in my memory. ”
“What happened to the other Greeters?” Five asks. “Are they still alive?”
My dad’s expression darkens. Now we’re getting to the part of the story that I know something about. Pretty soon, we’re going to be hitting the whole good-Mogadorian-saved-us-from-certain-death bit. My dad still hasn’t given up hope for Adam; he was checking his phone right before dinner. With him not getting in touch for this long, I’m starting to think he didn’t make it out. Dead or alive, I’m really not sure how Adam’s existence, and our involvement with him, is going to go over with the Garde.
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“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. ”