“Damn it,” he says, and immediately starts flicking switches on the Skimmer’s control panel.

“What is it?”

“Someone’s locked on to us.”

The cameras mounted on the Skimmer send images to our screen, views from the underside of the ship and behind us becoming visible. I don’t see anything but cloudless blue sky and the dense canopy of the forest beneath us.

“Where are they coming from?” Marina asks, squinting as she peers through the window.

“There,” Adam says, jabbing his finger at the screen. On it, a Mogadorian scout ship just like ours drifts slowly towards us from below. Its roof is painted in overlapping shades of greens, camouflaged to match the forest it detached from.

“Can we outrun it?” Marina asks.

“I can try,” Adam replies, pulling down the lever to give our Skimmer some more juice.

“Or we can just shoot it down,” I suggest.

As we pick up a little speed, the blinking red light on the console multiplies into four blinking red lights. There are more of them. Two identical Skimmers rise up from the jungle right in front of us, another along our side. The first still sits right on our tail. Hemmed in, Adam has no choice but to stop. The other Skimmers surround us.

“They all have guns, too, right?” Marina asks.

“Yes,” Adam replies. “We’re at a distinct disadvantage.”

“Not quite,” I say, and focus on the sky outside. What was cloudless a moment ago slowly begins to darken, clouds rolling in at my beckoning.

“Hold on,” Adam warns. “We don’t want to give away you’re all on board.”

“You’re sure they won’t shoot us down?”

“Ninety percent,” Adam says.

I let go of the storm I was whipping up, allowing the clouds to drift through the sky along their natural course. A second later, a shrill beep emanates from our dashboard.

“They’re hailing us,” Adam says. “They want to talk.”

Another plan has occurred to me, one that doesn’t involve fighting a midair battle against bad odds.

“You said you’re some general’s kid, right?” I say to Adam. “So can’t you, like, throw your weight around or something?”

As Adam considers this, the dashboard communicator bleats again.

“I should tell you, I’m not exactly well liked among my people,” he says. “They might not listen to me.”

“Yeah, well, that’s a risk,” I admit. “Worst-case scenario, they take you prisoner, right?”

Adam grimaces. “Yeah.”

“So, we let them take us where we’re going. Don’t worry. We’ll rescue you.”

“Uh, you need to do something,” Marina says, waving towards the windshield. The ship directly in front of us, getting impatient or suspicious, has brought its blaster turret around to aim at us.

“All right, go invisible,” Adam says. I reach around my seat and grasp Marina’s hand, disappearing the both of us. Sensing the situation, Dust shrinks down into a tiny gray mouse and skitters under Adam’s seat.

Adam hits a button on the console, and a video feed crackles to life on our screen. A nasty-looking Mogadorian scout, his empty eyes too close together, his teeth short and sharp, stares at Adam with a look of fierce annoyance. He barks something in harsh Mogadorian.