Lexa shakes her head. “She didn’t make it. Her brother was the pilot of this ship. Your ship. Zophie went looking for him, actually thought she’d found him through the internet, but . . .”

Marina fills in the blank. “Mogs.”

Lexa nods sadly. “After that, I was alone.”

“You weren’t alone, though,” I say. “We were out there. A lot of us—hell, all of us, we lost our Cêpan. Some of us pretty damn quick. We could’ve used some guidance. Why did you wait so long? Why didn’t you try to find us?”

“You know why, Six. For the same reasons that your Cêpan didn’t try to find each other. It was dangerous to try making contact. Every internet search risked exposure. I did what I could from afar. I funneled money and intel to groups that were working on exposing the Mogadorians. I started a website called ‘Aliens Anonymous’ to try spreading the word, to maybe expose what they were up to with MogPro. That’s how I met up with Mark.”

I think about what it must’ve been like for her, a stranger in a strange land, with no one to rely on. Actually, I don’t have to imagine what she went through. I lived it myself. I knew the dangers and I never stopped looking for the others. I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. “Dangerous for us? Or dangerous for you?”

“For all of us, Six,” Lexa replies. I can tell that my words stung her. “I know it’s not even a fraction of the responsibility the Elders hung on the nine of you but . . . I didn’t ask for this either. I took a cake job in a museum and next thing I know I’m flying an antique ship to a planet in a completely different solar system with one of the last living Garde as cargo. I lost my brother, my best friend, my whole life.”

She takes a breath. Marina and I are both silent.

“I told myself that helping you all from afar was enough. So, I did what I could from a distance. I erased whatever information I found about you all online. I tried to make you invisible, not just to the world, but to me. Maybe it was cowardice. Or shame. I don’t know. I knew deep down that I should be doing more. I always intended to get this ship, though, and contact you, once you were old enough and once I . . .”

“You’re here now,” Marina says gently. “That’s what matters.”

“I couldn’t stay away any longer. I’d already fled one planet during an invasion. I decided it was time to stop running.”

That hits home for me. In a way, after spending years hiding from the Mogadorians, we’ve all decided it’s time to stop running. I only hope it isn’t too late.