That speech sounds familiar. It takes me a second to realize it’s exactly the kind of advice I used to give to John, right before he’d rush off to do something brave and stupid.

As I’m struggling to come up with a sound argument for reentering the base, my dad peeks around the corner and rapidly jerks back. A second later, I can hear two sets of running footsteps approaching.

“Mogs,” he hisses, hunkering down. “Two of them. They’re probably setting up a perimeter.”

As the first Mogadorian guard comes sprinting around the corner, my dad swings the steel grate low, crunching right into the Mog’s shins. He tumbles to the ground, landing hard on his ugly face.

The second guard tries to get his weapon up, but my dad is on him. They start wrestling over the blaster; my dad has the advantage of surprise and adrenaline. The Mogadorian is stronger, though, and slams my dad against the wall, the weapon still pinned between them. I hear a rush of breath escape my father.

I dash to the first guard before he can collect himself. I kick him hard in the side of the head, so hard that I can feel my toes immediately swelling up inside my worn-out sneakers. I grab his blaster, spin around, and fire.

The shot sizzles into the wall next to my dad’s head. I correct my aim and shoot again.

My dad spits out black ash as the Mogadorian disintegrates in front of him. Not wanting to take any chances, I shoot the Mogadorian lying at my feet. I watch his body explode in a puff of soot that spreads across the pavement. It’s a pretty satisfying sight.

When I look up, my dad is staring at me with a mix of wonderment and pride.

“Nice shooting,” he says. He picks up the second Mog blaster and peers around the corner again. “Coast is clear, but more will be coming. We need to get moving.”

I look back at the base, wondering if my friends are still fighting for their lives inside. Sensing my hesitation, my dad gently grabs on to my shoulder.

“Sam, I know it might not count for much right now, but you have my word that we’re going to do everything we can for the Garde. Saving them, protecting Earth . . . it’s my life’s work.”

“Mine too,” I reply, realizing as I say them that the words are true.

He pokes his head around the corner again and then motions for me. We sprint into the open, heading towards the fallen watchtower where my dad says there will be a way through Dulce’s fence. I half expect blaster fire to erupt behind us at anytime, but it never comes. I glance over my shoulder at the smoke curling upwards from the base. I hope the Garde and Adam made it out alive.