“This control room is a nerve center, John,” Adam explains, taking a moment away from typing to gesture around. “Information from all the other bases feeds to here. It is just a matter of accessing it.”

“Accessing it how?”

“Hunting the Loric for so many years has made my people paranoid to ever miss a potential lead. Every operation is recorded. There’s surveillance everywhere.” Adam strikes a key with a triumphant flair. “Even aboard our own ships.”

The monitors above flicker briefly and then display grainy footage of a runway in the middle of a swamp.

“If the Garde are nearby, we might be able to see them,” Adam explains.

“If they’re not invisible,” I say, squinting at the monitor.

Beneath the camera, a handful of Mogadorians look frustrated as they yank engine parts from the scout ship’s hull. They clean these parts, reattach them and, when nothing happens, start taking apart something else.

“What’re they doing?” Sam asks.

“Trying to fix what I’ve done,” Adam replies excitedly, seeming pleased that he’s outsmarted his people. “They assume engine failure, not automated systems override. It will take them awhile to catch on.”

Another Mogadorian, this one wearing an impressive-looking uniform similar to the General’s, approaches them. He yells at the mechanics, then walks offscreen in a huff.

“Does the camera move?” I ask.

“Of course.”

Adam hits a button and the camera begins to scan to the side, following the dressed-up Mogadorian. At first, there isn’t much to see except pavement and, in the distance, some swampland. However, after a short walk, the dressed-up Mogadorian disappears into an airplane hangar.

“Do you think they’re in there?” I ask.

“This camera should be equipped with heat vision, if I can figure out how to access it,” Adam replies, tentatively tapping a few of the keys in front of him.

Before Adam can figure it out, Five walks through the hangar doors. Even though I’d guessed he was a traitor from Ella’s vision, I’d been holding on to a foolish hope that it wasn’t true. Or, dark as it might seem, that Five was the one killed in battle. But there he is, in a rumpled Mogadorian uniform, and with a bandage covering his right eye.

I can hear Sam suck in a breath; he’s stunned. The only part of my visions that I hadn’t told anyone about was seeing Five, not wanting to smear his name if I was wrong.

“He’s . . .” Sam shakes his head. “That son of a bitch traitor. It must’ve been him who told the Mogs about Chicago.”

“One of your own,” Adam says quietly. “That is unexpected.”

I have to look away from Five’s image before my blood boils. “You didn’t know about this?” I ask Adam through clenched teeth.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I would’ve told you. Setrákus Ra himself must have been keeping him a secret.”

I force myself to look back at the screen. I keep calm, studying my new enemy. His slumped shoulders, his freshly shaved head, the dark look in his remaining eye. What could have brought one of our own to such a terrible place?