At the center of the factory floor, steelwork benches are bolted into the floor. Sam’s dad, Malcolm, and Adam are setting up the computer equipment they just purchased by trading in some of my waning supply of Loric gemstones. Because there’s no electricity running to this old factory, they had to buy some small battery-powered generators for the trio of laptops and mobile hotspot. I watch Adam hooking up one of the laptop batteries—his deathly pale skin, lank black hair and angular features making him slightly more human looking than the usual Mogadorians—and remind myself that he’s on our side. Sam and Malcolm seem to trust him; plus he’s got a Legacy, the power to create shock waves, which he inherited from One. If I hadn’t seen him use the Legacy with my own eyes, I’m not sure I’d even think it was possible. Part of me wants to believe, maybe even needs to believe, that a Mog wouldn’t be able to just steal a Legacy, that he has to be worthy. That it happened for a reason.

“Look at it this way,” Sam says quietly as we walk over to the others. “Humans, Loric, Mogs . . . we’ve got like the first meeting of the Intergalactic United Nations over here. It’s historic.”

I snort and step up to the laptop Adam has just finished connecting. He takes one look at me and must detect something—maybe I’m not doing such a good job concealing my conflicted feelings—because he looks down and steps aside, making room for me and moving on to the next laptop. He keeps his eyes fixed on the screen, typing quickly.

“How’d it go?” I ask.

“We got most of the gear we need,” Malcolm replies as he fiddles with a wireless router. Even with his beard starting to get majorly unkempt, Malcolm looks healthier than he did when I first met him. “Anything happen here?”

“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head. “It’d take a miracle for the Garde in Florida to track us down. And Ella . . . I keep hoping her voice will pop into my head and tell me where they took her, but she hasn’t made contact.”

“At least we’ll know where the others are once the tablet is hooked up,” Sarah says.

“With the gear we bought, I think we can run a hack on the John Hancock building’s phone network,” Malcolm suggests. “That way, if they try calling in from the road, we can intercept the call.”

“Good idea,” I reply, plugging the white locator tablet into the laptop and waiting for it to boot up.

Malcolm pushes his glasses up his nose and clears his throat. “It was Adam’s idea, actually.”

“Oh,” I reply, keeping my voice neutral.

“That is a good idea,” Sarah chimes in. She scoots in next to Malcolm and starts working on the third laptop, giving me a look like I should try saying something nice to Adam. When I don’t, an awkward silence settles over the group. There have been a lot of those since we left Chicago.