Armada (19 page)

“Any relation, Zack?” she asked quietly.

I looked at Arbogast. He seemed interested in hearing how I would answer, too.

“He's my father,” I said. “But I never knew him. I grew up believing he died when I was still just a baby. I just found out the EDA faked his death when they recruited him.”

They all stared back at me in silence, taking this in—except for Chén, who had to read the translation off his QComm before he understood what I'd just said. When he looked up from its display a few seconds later, he let out a long low whistle.

“And now you're on your way to the moon to meet him for the first time?” Debbie said.

I nodded.

“Jesus, kid!” Milo said, shaking his head. “And I thought
my
day was turning out weird.”

I turned back to Arbogast. “Do you know him?”

“A little,” he said. “I had the honor of working with General Lightman briefly a few years ago. He was one of our primary military consultants on
Armada.
” He studied my face for a second, then shook his head. “You look just like him.”

I nodded. “Yeah, so I keep hearing.”

We heard a low whine as the shuttle engines began to power up. Arbogast stood up straight and snapped us all a clumsy salute.

“Thank you again for your service,” he said. “And good luck up there!”

Then he exited the shuttle before anyone could even return his salute. After he left, the ATHID Meadows was controlling turned to slap a large red button on the bulkhead. The shuttle's doors slid closed with a pressurized hiss, barely audible over the growing roar of the engines.

“Strap in, recruits,” Meadows told us over his comm. “We're cleared for departure.”

I pulled on my safety harness and fumbled with the buckle until it finally clicked into place; then I pulled the straps tight against my chest. Once everyone was properly buckled in, Meadows' ATHID gave us all a robotic thumbs-up.

“The journey to Moon Base Alpha should only take about forty minutes,” he said. “Once we clear the Earth's atmosphere, we'll be moving extremely fast. If we run into any hostiles along the way, you'll each be able to use your QComms to control one of the omnidirectional laser turrets mounted on the underside of the hull. But our scopes are clear right now, so it should be smooth sailing. Just sit back and try to enjoy the ride.”

The drone returned to the cockpit, and I saw it dock with its charging station just before the hatch closed. When I glanced around the cabin, I found that my companions were once again staring at me. Debbie and Whoadie quickly averted their eyes, but Milo and Chén both just kept right on staring, as if a sparkly horn had suddenly sprouted from my forehead. I ignored them as long as I could; then I slowly mimed cranking up the middle finger of my right hand. When it reached full mast, they both finally seemed to get the hint and looked away.

I took out my QComm and tried punching my mother's mobile number into the keypad, but the call didn't go through, and a notice popped up informing me that access to the civilian phone system was still restricted.

I sighed and snapped the QComm back onto my wrist.

We lifted off a few minutes later. As before, the ride remained perfectly smooth, even as the shuttle climbed through the atmosphere and accelerated to escape velocity—and the sky outside our windows gradually began to turn from light blue to pitch black.

And this time, when we reached the edge of all that blackness, the shuttle didn't turn around and begin to fall back to Earth. We kept right on going, out into space. As on my first shuttle trip, the gravity inside the cabin never wavered, and when I closed my eyes, it felt as if we were motionless, even though we were moving so fast that within just a few minutes, we'd already traveled far enough away from Earth for me to be able to see the entire planet all at once, something I'd dreamed of doing for as long as I could remember.

I stared down at the radiant blue-white sphere that was home to everything and everyone I loved and scanned the gaps in the swirling cloud layer until I located the western coastline of North America, then followed it until I spotted the familiar inlet of Portland, just barely visible. I realized then just how far away I already was from home. And it was getting farther and farther away every second.

That's what we're fighting for,
I thought.
That's what they're trying to take from us.

I pressed my face against the window beside me, craning my neck to see as far ahead of us as possible. And there it was: a radiant gray-white bulb, shining in the darkness far ahead of us. I'd spent my entire life believing that no human being had set foot on its surface since the last Apollo mission in 1972. Now I was headed there myself, aboard a spacecraft that incorporated reverse-engineered alien technology, to meet the father I had never known. What was he like now? What would he say when he saw me? How would I react?

Across from me, I noticed that Debbie had her head down, and her hands were clasped together in her lap. Her eyes were closed, and she was moving her lips in silence.

“What are you doing?” Milo asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Debbie silently whispered “
Amen
” to herself, then opened her eyes and looked over at him.

“I was obviously trying to pray, Milo,” she said.

“You were
praying
?” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “To who?”

Debbie stared at him in disbelief. “To Jesus, Our Lord and Savior, of course.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Milo said, chuckling. “Just one question, church lady—in what part of the Bible did Jesus warn us about this alien invasion?” He glanced around the cabin at the rest of us for support. “Because I must have missed that verse!”

Debbie stared back at him, instantly livid. She opened her mouth, but his question seemed to have her so flustered that she didn't know how to respond.

Whoadie did, though.

“ ‘And the fifth angel sounded,' ” she recited, locking eyes with Milo, “ ‘and I saw a star fall from heaven unto the earth: and to him was given the key of the bottomless pit. And he opened the bottomless pit; and there arose a smoke out of the pit, as the smoke of a great furnace. … And the sun and the air were darkened by reason of the smoke of the pit.' ”

“What pit?” Milo asked. His smile was gone. “What are you talking about, kid?”

I'd been raised to believe there was no real difference between religion and mythology, but Whoadie's words spooked me nevertheless. The verse she quoted conjured up a vivid memory of the cataclysmic fire and smoke roiling off the Crystal Palace blast doors as they buckled and warped under a hail of alien laser fire.

“ ‘And they worshipped the dragon which gave power unto the beast,' ” she said, “ ‘and they worshipped the beast, saying, who is like unto the beast? Who is able to make war with him?' ”

When she finished, everyone just stared at her for a moment. Then Debbie began to applaud, and Chén and I joined in. Whoadie blushed and looked down at her feet.

“My uncle Franklin loves to quote Scripture,” she said, shrugging. “I been hearing him recite Revelations since before I could walk.”

“Well, I vote for no more Bible verses,” Milo said, raising his right hand. “That seriously creeped me out.”

Debbie nodded. “Quoting Revelations is probably a bad idea right now,” she said. “I think we're all terrified enough already.”

Whoadie gave Milo and Debbie a look of disappointment before she replied.

“ ‘He which hath no stomach to this fight, let him depart,' ” she recited, still glaring at the two adults. “ ‘His passport shall be made, and crowns for convoy put into his purse—we would not die in that man's company, that fears his fellowship to die with us.' ”

They both stared back at her for a long moment.

“What is it with you, anyway, kid?” Milo asked finally.

Whoadie shrugged again. “The only thing my uncle Franklin loves more than quoting Scripture is quoting Shakespeare.” She smiled to herself. “I seen all those Branagh and Zeffirelli movies about a zillion times each, so I know every word by heart.”

Chén typed something into his QComm's translator, then tilted it toward her.

“You are very smart and you have an amazing memory,” the synthesized voice said.

Even though his compliment came via a computer, it was enough to make her blush again as she whispered, “Thank you.” She and Chén shared another glance. They seemed smitten with each other already, despite the language barrier.

“How old are you, Whoadie?” Debbie asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

“I just turned sixteen last week,” she said. “But I don't have my license yet.”

“You sound like you're from New Orleans,” Debbie told her, doing her best to pronounce it
N'Awlins.

Whoadie nodded. “I live in the Ninth Ward,” she said. “That's actually where my nickname comes from.
Whoadie
is how the locals say
wardie
. That's a person who lives in the same ward as you,” she explained. “My parents called me Whoadie ever since I was a baby. I didn't always like it, because there were some boys at school used to call me Whoadie the Toadie all the time. But then I punched their fucking lights out and they stopped.”

She said this in such a sweet, girlish voice that I burst out laughing. So did Milo. But Debbie looked absolutely horrified.

“Lila!” she said, wincing again. “Such language, honey! Your parents don't let you swear like that around them, do they?”

Whoadie folded her arms. “Well, no, they didn't used to,” she said. “But they both died in a hurricane when I was little, so now I get to say whatever the fuck I want.”

“Oh, snap!” Milo muttered under his breath.

“You poor dear,” Debbie said, looking embarrassed. “I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

Whoadie nodded and looked away, leaving Debbie to squirm in the silence that followed. That was when Milo decided to try to help salvage the conversation.

“Hey,” he said, nodding at me. “Zack over there thought his father was dead, too—but he's not. Maybe your folks are still alive, too?”

Whoadie glared back at him, then shook her head slowly.

“They drowned,” she said. “I saw their bodies.”

She didn't elaborate. Milo was too taken aback to even respond. Whoadie turned to look out the window, and I watched her, recalling what Admiral Vance had told me about not feeling too sorry for myself.

“How about you, Debbie?” I asked, desperate to change the subject. “Where do you hail from?”

“Duluth, Minnesota,” she said, giving me a grateful smile. “I'm a school librarian there. I also have three boys, all teenagers now. The oldest is only fifteen.” Her smile faded. “I didn't even get to say goodbye to any of them. They let me send my sister a text message, asking her to pick them up, but I obviously couldn't say why.”

“Can't your husband take care of them?” Whoadie asked.

Debbie glanced down at the wedding ring on her left hand, then smiled at Whoadie.

“I'm afraid not, dear,” she said, meeting Whoadie's gaze. “Howard died of a heart attack last year.”

Now it was Whoadie's turn to look embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“It's all right,” she said. “My boys are tough as nails. I'm sure they'll get through this fine. I just hope—” Her voice hitched, but she went on. “When I'm allowed to call them later, I just hope they understand why I couldn't stay with them through all of this.”

“They'll understand,” I said, with as much assurance as I could. “Your sons are gamers, too, right?”

She nodded. “They all play
Terra Firma
together every night, while their mom is playing
Armada,
” she said. “We all have our computers set up next to each other in the living room.”

“Then your boys will be fighting right alongside us,” I said, smiling at her. “Right?”

Debbie nodded, and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

“Right,” she said. “That's right, I forgot.”

“Fucking-A!” Milo shouted. “We're gonna have AtomicMom's boys whipping ass for our team, too?” He smiled at Debbie. “Those alien dipshits won't stand a chance.”

To my surprise, Debbie returned his smile, and I found myself reconsidering my first impression of Milo. His Rocky Balboa-esque method of speaking somehow made his cocky enthusiasm seem endearing.

Chén—who had just now caught up with the conversation via his translator—nodded vigorously in agreement with Milo, then spoke into his translator.

“I know my friends and family back home will be helping us fight, too,” the software said for him. “And that is very comforting to me.”

“Thank you, Chén,” Debbie said. “You too, Milo. You're right, that is comforting.” She twisted her hands into knots in her lap. “But I'm still frightened for my family—and for all us.” She shook her head. “I never believed something like this could really happen. It's a nightmare.”

“I don't know,” Milo said, leaning back. “It seems more like a dream come true to me.”

Debbie stared at him. “Are you insane?” she asked. “How could you possibly think that?”

Milo shrugged. “Yesterday I was living in a shitty basement apartment and working a soul-crushingly boring cubicle job.” He motioned to the surreal view out the shuttle window. “Look at me now! I'm an officer in the Earth Defense Alliance, and I'm on my way to the fucking moon to help save Earth from an alien invasion!” He turned back to Debbie. “Now please explain to me how this isn't the greatest day
ever
? Like, in history?”

“Because we're all about to get killed, moron!” she shouted back, with a tremor of hysteria creeping into her voice. “Were you even paying attention during the admiral's briefing? Did you see the size of their armada? We're going to be ridiculously outnumbered!”