I’m a freaking spy.

I pick up my knife and fork, cut a small square off the edge of the meat and plop it into my mouth. There’s hardly any taste at all, it’s almost like chewing a wadded-up ball of notebook paper. It’s the texture that really bothers me—the way the meat starts to fizz and melt as soon as it touches my tongue, breaking down so quickly that I don’t even really chew. I can’t help but think of the way Mogadorians disintegrate when they’re killed and have to stop myself from gagging.

“It isn’t what you’re used to, but it’s the best the Anubis is equipped to produce,” Setrákus Ra says, almost apologetically. “The food will improve once we’ve taken Earth.”

I ignore him, not really caring about the finer points of Mogadorian cuisine. “I ate, now answer my question.”

He inclines his head, looking charmed by my directness. “I chose this form because the humans will find it comforting. It’s what I will wear to accept surrender of their planet.”

I gape at him. “They’re not going to surrender to you.”

He smiles. “Of course they will. Unlike the Loric, who pointlessly fight against impossible odds, the humans have a rich history of subjugation. They appreciate demonstrations of superior force and will gladly accept the tenets of Mogadorian Progress. And those who don’t will perish.”

“Mogadorian ‘Progress.’” I spit the words. “What are you even talking about? You’re going to make everyone like you? A mon—”

I don’t finish my question. I was going to call him a monster, but then I thought back to my vision. I callously ordered Six’s execution right in front of John, Sam and a crowd of people. What if something like Setrákus Ra is already lurking inside me?

“I believe there was at least one question in all that vitriol,” Setrákus Ra says. He maintains his infuriating smile, made even worse now that he’s wearing a handsome human face, and gestures towards my plate. I shovel down another bite of the horrible food. He clears his throat like he’s about to give a speech.

“We share the same blood, granddaughter, which is why you will be spared the fate of those Garde who foolishly oppose me. Because, unlike them, you are capable of change,” Setrákus Ra explains. “I may have been Loric once, but over the centuries I have made myself into something better. Once I control the Earth, I will have the power necessary to change the lives of billions. All they need do is accept Mogadorian Progress. Then my work will at last bear fruit.”

I squint at him. “Power? From where?”

Setrákus Ra smiles at me, touching the pendants that hang around his neck. “You will see when the time is right, child. Then, you will understand.”

“I already understand,” I reply. “I understand that you’re a disgusting, genocidal freak who gave himself a bad Mogadorian makeover.”

Setrákus Ra’s smile flickers and for a moment I wonder if I’ve pushed my luck too far. He sighs and drags his fingers across his throat, the skin of his assumed form parting to reveal the thick purple scar around his throat.