Now there’s shouting. Outraged cries in Mogadorian from a dozen different voices. I can’t help but smirk at the chaos and panic created by just a few words.

Phiri Dun-Ra screeches to be heard over the others. “These are the fabrications of a disgraced trueborn! A traitor to our race!”

“Then let Beloved Leader answer me!” Adam shouts back. “Perhaps he can speak through the hole I put in his chest! Phiri Dun-Ra knows the truth, brothers and sisters, and she now seeks to rule us through the same lies that Setrákus Ra used for centuries. Do not let it happen!”

“These are blasphemies—!” shrieks Phiri.

“Let him answer, then!” Adam yells again. “Let the immortal Setrákus Ra answer, if he still draws breath.”

For a moment, all lines go quiet, waiting for something to happen.

Only silence from Phiri Dun-Ra.

“You will pay,” she says finally, her voice filled with hate. “You will pay for your lack of faith.”

There’s a sharp beep, the sound of her cutting off communication. Immediately, the dozens of warship captains who have been listening to this entire exchange begin to shout at each other.

Adam turns off his mic and swivels around to face us.

“Now,” he says. “We let them kill each other.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SYDNEY GETS IT THE WORST.

The warship captain there begins a full-scale bombardment of the city a few hours after Adam interrupted Phiri Dun-Ra’s speech. This captain claims the destruction is in honor of Beloved Leader, a fiery sacrifice for Setrákus Ra’s death. Adam explains that he’s showing off; the captain wants to look good in case Setrákus Ra is alive, and position himself for leadership if he’s not.

Images of the opera house in flames, the bridge behind it collapsing, are broadcast on the world’s few remaining news channels. It’s hard to watch, knowing that our lie about Setrákus Ra caused this. Adam looks like he’s going to be sick. Lawson shakes his head, his lined face grim.

“Psychological warfare has costs,” he says matter-of-factly. I get the feeling he’d have a different outlook if this was an American city burning. “If it’s any consolation, my sources tell me that Sydney was mostly evacuated.”

“Mostly,” Adam repeats.

“Yes, mostly,” Lawson replies. “Collateral damage can’t always be avoided. It’s horrible, but you learn to live with it.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t have expected so much empathy from one of your kind.”

Adam eyes the general. “Right.”

I don’t say anything. I just make a mental note of the Mogadorian’s name. Rezza El-Doth. I add him to the list of Mogs that I’m going to kill.

It’s the middle of the night. The three of us—myself, Adam, Lawson—are the only ones still down in the monitoring room hours after Adam’s surprise broadcast. The others went to get some rest, something that I should probably be doing but don’t feel at all capable of. Instead, I slouch in a chair and listen as Adam robotically describes the various transmissions going out over the Mog comms. Next to me, Lawson keeps an eye on a tablet computer, monitoring reports from around the world.

“I admire the moxie it took for a stunt like that,” Lawson continues. “You had to know there’d be consequences. You did the math and calculated that the benefits outweighed the costs. Of course, if it hadn’t played out in our favor, we’d be having a different conversation, wouldn’t we?”

I glance at Lawson. He stares at me, appraising. Again I stay silent. He’s right, though. As soon as Adam told me about the dissension among the Mogs in Setrákus Ra’s absence, I knew we had to exploit it. Adam agreed. Like Lawson said, I knew there might be dangers.

I didn’t care.

Sydney went bad, but in other locations, Adam’s announcement had better effects.

In Beijing, where the Chinese army has been resisting the Mogadorians heavily and pursuing some pretty reckless counterattacks, the Mogs actually pulled their Skimmers back to the warship. The captain declared he wanted to hear from Setrákus Ra before he wasted any more of his vatborn on securing the city. No response has come from West Virginia, which means a reprieve for the Chinese.

Meanwhile, the warship captain in Moscow declared himself the new Beloved Leader. I guess he got himself a big head after seeing how quickly the Russians complied with his occupation effort. This declaration didn’t sit well with the captain of the warship stationed in Berlin; he diverted his ship to attempt to assassinate the usurper.