Chapter 16 #2
Once they were gone, Declan turned and began walking deeper into the facility, his stride confident.
"This way, please." A dozen Secret Service agents fell into step behind him, or if I was being accurate, a contingent of Trogvyk.
The buzz of the cuddwisg they wore floated about my ears like insects.
We followed, our footsteps echoing in the corridor like drumbeats, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls.
Adtovar and Xabat maintained their positions flanking Ellie, moving in perfect synchronization, while Xytol walked slightly behind, every inch the dutiful attaché, his eyes downcast and unassuming.
Cullen and I brought up the rear, followed by the rest of our team, hands never far from our weapons, fingers twitching with readiness.
The corridor opened into a massive hangar, and I felt my breath catch in my throat.
Instead of the comfortable conference room from our previous meeting, we found ourselves in a sterile atmosphere surrounded by technology that shouldn't exist on Earth.
Sleek alien craft hung suspended from the ceiling like predatory birds frozen mid-flight, hulls gleaming under harsh fluorescent lights that cast sharp shadows across the floor.
Workstations lined the walls, covered in equipment I couldn't begin to identify.
Some clearly human-made, clunky and mechanical, others unmistakably extraterrestrial, with smooth, organic surfaces.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Declan said, his voice carrying across the cavernous space, bouncing off the high ceiling, sounding wrong in Ellie's feminine tone. "We've made remarkable progress in understanding the technology you've shared with us."
Ellie—or rather, the man wearing Ellie's face—moved forward, his gaze sweeping across the hangar with interest. It was deeply unsettling, watching Declan inhabit her body, seeing her mannerisms filtered through his consciousness, twisted and wrong like a reflection in warped glass.
I forced myself to focus, to remember why we were here, pulling my attention away from him. This wasn't about technology. This was about the trap, about springing it before it could close around us.
Xytol had moved to the side, his fingers flying on the datapad as he pretended to take notes.
I caught the shift in his posture, the way his spine straightened imperceptibly, the way one of his long fingers tapped three times on the screen—the signal.
My pulse quickened, adrenaline flooding my system.
Xytol had verified what my senses suspected, every member of Declan's Secret Service team was Trogvyk, all of them wearing human disguises.
The irony wasn't lost on me. A room full of impostors, each of us pretending to be someone else, wearing false faces and playing roles, conversing with words that were far from the truth.
"I am happy to see you are well," Ellie said, her voice warm but formal as the Prime as she approached the President.
The smile that crossed the President's face seemed genuine enough, reaching all the way to the eyes, though I knew better. "Yes, thank you. It has been a very interesting few weeks."
"I understand our plan to capture Declan Hewes has derailed for the moment," Ellie continued, clasping her hands behind her back, a gesture that mimicked the true Prime, regal and controlled.
Ellie had studied her part, watching videos of the Prime in action, memorizing every gesture and inflection.
The faux President nodded, his expression shifting to one of frustration, his brow furrowing. "Yes, I have been trying to locate him to no avail. Perhaps he is off planet?"
Ellie tilted her head slightly. "We have been monitoring the departures and arrivals to Earth. Since our last meeting, no one has entered or left the atmosphere except my shuttle." A lie, but for a good purpose, a necessary deception.
"What would you have me do if we cannot find Hewes?" the President asked, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness.
"I think he may be far closer than anyone realizes," Ellie said quietly, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper.
The President's eyes narrowed, a hateful expression flickering across his borrowed features like storm clouds passing over the sun. "Actually, I have been reconsidering."
"Really?" Ellie's eyebrows arched, an exact duplicate of the Prime's gesture of surprise.
"Yes, upon further scrutiny, I have discovered that Hewes is not the danger," Hewes announced smugly.
Ellie squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, every bit the leader, radiating authority. "Then who do you propose is behind human trafficking to the cosmos?"
The faux President crossed her arms over her chest, jutting out her chin in a gesture that was petulant, childish. Not a leader, a spoiled brat. "I believe it is the Alliance."
The temperature in the hangar seemed to drop, the air suddenly frigid against my skin. Ellie's posture stiffened, her spine going rigid. "That is a dangerous accusation."
"You wanted me to believe that a human was behind the trafficking, when it is apparent that your kind come and go to Earth as you please," the President said, her voice hardening, Declan's true nature bleeding through the facade like ink through paper.
"You forget I have proof," Ellie countered, her voice cold as ice. The Prime would be proud of her performance.
"Manufactured proof, no doubt."
The President made a sharp signal with her hand, a quick cutting gesture, and suddenly every Secret Service agent in the hangar drew their weapons, the metallic clicks echoing through the space.
"Admiral Blackwood," the President said sharply, her voice carrying across the hangar, bouncing off the suspended aircraft. "I would like for you to take the Prime and her attendants into custody."
Cullen didn't move. His expression remained neutral, carved from stone, but there was steel in his eyes, hard and unyielding. "I am sorry, but I only follow the orders of the true President."
The male wearing the President's face went rigid, every muscle in his body tensing. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Ellie's lips curved into a cold smile. "It means you need to get your ass out of my skin, Declan."
Her hand moved to the cuddwisg she wore on her wrist. The air around her shimmered like heat rising from desert sand, rippling and distorting, and suddenly the towering form of the Alliance Prime collapsed inward, folding and shrinking.
Where the seven-foot Vaktaire female had stood, Ellie now appeared in her human form, small and fierce and utterly herself.
The ornate robes that had seemed to perfectly fit the Prime's frame now hung loose and oversized on her smaller body, the fabric pooling around her feet like water.
For a heartbeat, the hangar went utterly silent, the kind of silence that preceded an explosion.
Declan's face—the President's face—went slack with shock, his eyes widening until I saw the whites all around, his jaw dropping open as he stared at Ellie.
Then his expression twisted into something feral, something that had nothing to do with the woman whose body he wore, all pretense of humanity stripped away.
"Kill them!" he screamed, his voice cracking with rage, the sound shrill and desperate. "Kill them all!"
The Secret Service agents moved as one, but not with human fluidity.
Their movements were too sharp, too angular, jerky like puppets with cut strings.
As they raised their weapons, their forms began to shimmer and distort.
Thanks to Xytol's interference, the cuddwisg disguises flickered and failed like dying light bulbs, revealing the hulking, gray-skinned Trogvyk beneath.
In keeping with the disguise, they carried Earth weapons.
The sound of handguns barked in the enclosed space, sharp cracks that assaulted my ears, the sound deafening, bouncing off every surface until the world was nothing but noise.
Thankfully, my comrades were like me and mostly immune to such paltry munitions, our physiology shrugging off the impacts.
Adtovar's warriors responded with the precision of a well-oiled machine, moving in perfect coordination.
Xytol's programming of our cuddwisg devices covered not only our skin and clothing but weapons as well.
The blasters sang to life with that distinctive high-pitched whine, a sound that made my teeth ache.
I watched purple energy bolts slice through the air like deadly ribbons of light, meeting the hail of bullets in a cacophony of sound and light.
The first Trogvyk went down hard. A smoking hole punched clean through his chest, the edges cauterized and black.
Another stumbled backward, his meaty hand clutching at his shoulder where the flesh had been seared away, revealing charred muscle beneath, his mouth open in a silent scream.
The hangar erupted into absolute chaos. A maelstrom of weapons fire, shouting, and the acrid stench of ozone and burnt flesh that filled my nostrils and coated the back of my throat.
Outside, I heard more shouting, Abernathy's voice, sharp and commanding, cutting through the din like a blade.
The hangar doors rattled violently as someone tried to force them open from the other side, the metal shrieking in protest. Through the narrow gap between the doors, I caught a glimpse of more Secret Service agents, more Trogvyk in their true forms, their gray faces twisted with determination as they tried to push their way inside, clawed hands scrabbling at the gap.
But Cullen was there, his broad shoulders blocking the entrance like an immovable wall, his feet planted wide, his own weapon drawn and ready. Several of Adtovar's warriors flanked him on either side, blasters trained on the door, creating a defensive line that would be suicide to breach.