The Real Stories of Lorien (A Lorien Legacies Fanfiction)

Finding Eight...And A Traitor

 Luce's POV

I watch the warship descend, hovering a few feet from the ground. Metal gangways unfurl from the ship's underside and connect to the ground. Mogs scurry up and down the ramps, loading equipment into the ship.

"We should wipe them out, "I say matter-of-factly.

Lenin blinks at me. "Are you serious? I count at least a hundred Mogs and the biggest goddamn ship I've ever seen."

"So what?" I counter. "Don't you love to fight?"

"Fights I can win, yeah, "Lenin replies.

"And if you can't win, you just run your mouth, right?" I snap.

"Enough, " Six hisses, "Bickering isn't getting us anywhere."

My eyes narrow and I read Six's thoughts: I don't know how long Luce will hold this grudge against Lenin or what it'll take to ease the tension, but now is definitely not the time to deal with it.

I sigh. Right, I think.

We're on our stomachs in the mud, shielded from the busy Mogadorians by overgrown tall grass, right at the edge of where the swamp begins to encroach on the man-made clearing. There are two buildings in front of us; one is glass-and-steel one-story that looks almost like a greenhouse, and the other is an aircraft hangar with a narrow landing strip, perfect for small propeller planes or the saucer-shaped Mogadorian crafts, nowhere near large enough for the warship floating above us. Just like Dale told us before he fled, the whole place looks like it was abandoned until recently. The swamp is beginning to creep back in and crack the asphalt, the metal struts of the greenhouse are rusted over, and the NASA logo has almost completely faded from the side of the hangar. Of course, these conditions don't appear to have deterred the Mogs from setting up a small base here.

But now, it looks like they're packing up.

"Luce, do you sense anything?" Six asks.

I focus on my senses and I easily sense the Loric power from Eight. "He's here, " I say. "I know he's here."

"Then we're going in, " Six says. "But we're doing it the smart way."

Six reaches out and grabs our hands, turning us all invisible. If a Mog was to look over here now, we'd be nothing more than three strange indentations in the mud. As a group, we stand up, confident that the horde of Mogs won't be able to see us.

"Luce, you lead the way," Six whispers.

Adrenaline courses through my veins at the proximity of the horde of Mogs and their warship. I want to kill them all, but it wouldn't be very smart to just run at them. 

As we step out of the swamp, Lenin trips over a root and nearly topples over, our chain almost breaking. That would've been the shortest convert mission in history. I hiss quietly.

"Sorry, " Lenin says quietly. "It's just weird not being able to see my legs."

"That can't happen again, " Six warns him.

"I'm reconsidering the whole rushing-in-and-killing-them-all thing, " Lenin replies. "Being sneaky isn't exactly my strong suit."

I make an annoyed noise and Six squeezes my hand hard. 

"We need to move as a unit, " Six says through gritted teeth. "Take it slow, be quiet and don't bump into anything."

I tug Six's hand lightly, indicating to follow me. She follows me, leading Lenin with her. I take a step to the greenhouse first. The Mogs are concentrated around that area, wheeling out carts loaded up with bizarre, mad scientist-looking devices. One Mog pushes a wheeled shelving unit cluttered with potted plants--flowers, patches of grass, saplings--all of them things found on Earth, and yet all of them veined with a strange gray fluid. They looks droopy, on the verge of dying, and I wonder what kind of experiments the Mogs were running on them.