He must have gotten hit pretty hard, because this guy doesn’t look like the type who would be easy to take out. He’s as big as Ivan and built like a pro linebacker, with a thick neck and bulging muscles, but I can tell even from here that he’s not vatborn—his facial features are too clean-lined and too even to be one of the genetically altered warriors who make up the majority of the Mogadorians’ army.

This one is a trueborn, like me. Like my father. From the tattoo on his forehead I can tell that he’s an officer, not a grunt. It figures. The vatborn are bred to be cannon fodder while the trueborn give the orders. Maybe that’s why I don’t remember seeing him while I was holding back the troops. Unlike Ivan, who charged after me and got himself killed as a result, this guy must’ve been leading from the rear.

I actually feel a stab of disgust at the thought. A good commander leads by example, not by cowering behind his men. Not that it did him much good. Anyway, none of it matters much. I need to figure out what I’m going to do with him.

First things first: I check him over for any weapons. He grunts a little as I pat him down, and his eyes flutter for a moment, but he doesn’t resist my search. Not that I find anything useful on him—if he had a blaster it’s long gone and he doesn’t seem to have a knife on him either. I don’t find so much as a breath mint in his pockets. Which, from the foul stench of the air emitting from his mouth in wheezing bursts, would probably do him more good than a weapon right about now.

The one thing that I can’t help but notice is the blood. This guy’s practically covered in it. It’s seeping out from under the dust and dirt that coats his pale skin, and staining through the torn-up clothes he still has on. I don’t see any one big injury, but he’s a mess for sure.

When I’m satisfied that he’s not going to jump to his feet and take me down the moment I turn my back on him, I look around the area I’m standing in and try to get my bearings. The bulk of Dulce Base was built underground to keep it away from prying eyes, but I guess my little stunt changed all that. I’m standing in a giant crater at least a hundred feet across at the top, and there’s a clear blue sky above. The only problem is, I’m at least twenty feet down from where rock ends and sky begins.