“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.”

“Interesting,” Eight says. “I’ve never thought of how their society works.”

“Who cares?” growls Nine. He’s standing with his hands on the back of his chair, like he’s ready to fling it. “Get to the part that proves this isn’t some Mogadorian setup.”

“They experimented on Adam with the same machines they used on my memory,” my father continues, not deterred by the rising tension. “They had the body of a Garde—Number One, I believe—and they tried to download her memories into him, thinking it would help them find the rest of you.”

“Her body,” Marina says quietly. “That’s sick.”

My dad nods in agreement. “It didn’t work the way the Mogadorians intended. Exposed to One’s memories, I believe Adam developed doubts about his people. He rebelled. In the process, he helped me escape and find Sam.”

Nine shakes his head. “This is the kind of double-agent shit they love to pull,” he insists.

“You met this Mog kid?” Six asks me.

Now everyone’s looking at me with the same scrutiny they were just using on my dad. I clear my throat, feeling uncomfortable. “Yeah. He was at the Dulce Base. He held off a squadron of Mogs while my dad and I escaped.”

My dad frowns, looking down at the table. “I fear he didn’t survive the battle.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” grumbles Nine, finally retaking his seat.

“There’s something else . . . ,” I say, glancing hesitantly at my father, wondering exactly how I should phrase this next revelation.

“What is it, Sam?” John asks.

“During the fight, he—he made the ground shake. It was like he had a Legacy.”

“Bullshit on top of bullshit,” snorts Nine.

“It’s true,” counters my dad. “I forgot about that. Something happened to him during the experiment.”