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able to find a thing. “Their energy signatures are gone. It’s like they left the entire moon.” He kept his eyes closed, then opened them in a jerk. His mouth gaped open. “Head south. I’ve found Slade.”

“He’s not on the moon,” responded Fox.

Jaxx sat straighter. “He is and we’re going to pay him a visit.”

Fox let out a sharp laugh. “Are you serious? That bastard.” Fox rubbed his hands together. “I get first dibs.”

24

J-Quadrant, Solar System - Namuh Farms, Callisto

The shadows from the city walls stretched sixty feet over the terrain outside of the city, hiding Rivkah well.

Krachkrrrrr! Krachkrrrrr!

An explosion in the distance rocked the ground and balls of flame lit up the sky several miles away. A battle was raging. Maybe the Atlanteans had mounted a last-effort charge or the Agadon and Kelhoon were at each other’s throats, battling it out.

She hoped the latter.

She slid against the wall quietly, her back and hands barely touching the cold stone. She crept up to the base of a wall tower that loomed high above her and aimed Abdu’s bamboo rifle, wanting to get a good shot at the guard inside. She figured it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to kill a Kelhoon and cause a stir amongst the soldiers guarding this monstrous city, but it might open up the city’s front doors, which were like massive walls in themselves. In the commotion of it all, she could sneak in and find the kids.

Maybe she could kill her dad…she corrected her thoughts. Again. She’d made that mistake before. What the hell? It wasn’t her dad she was trying to kill. It was Slade. Perhaps she could imagine her dad’s face on Slade’s neck. That would make it that much better, and then she’d be a success.

It was a sick image and she shook it out of her mind, pressing hard against the wall, swallowing a cry—even though she would have felt ten times better if she’d let it out. Abdu’s words echoed in her mind. He was right. She had continued to think herself a failure. Yes, her father instilled that belief, but she kept it as her own. She’d taken the bait — hook, line, and sinker. Yet she was still alive. And she was a bad-ass, kicking the shit out of those who stood in her way, ultimately becoming one of the best pilots in the Secret Space Program.

Rivkah stopped. Being so talented and using it well wasn’t the path of a failure.

So Abdu was right. She wasn’t one.

He even said she was here to do good; starting tonight.

She pushed away from the wall and looked through her rifle’s scope. The guard wasn’t in view. She dropped the bamboo rifle by her side and studied the wall. Could she scale the sucker? She could, but the tops of the walls were lined with sharp razor wires so close together there was no way of jimmying her body through them. And climbing over them would be thoroughly impossible without losing pints of blood in the process.

The towers, though, could be her ticket inside. Some had windows surrounding the lookout, but the one in front of her didn’t. It was open, made for weapons—cannons, rifles, or whatever else the Kelhoon could set up on a tripod—to blow any advancing enemy to shit and back.

This tower in front of her wasn’t just for looking out.

She took in a deep breath, observing the rock wall more closely, pressing her hands up against it, finding a good hand hold. Some pieces of rock jagged inward and others jagged outward.

An evil smile curled on her lips. She could climb it, easily and quickly.

She hung the rifle over her shoulder and across her body, so it wouldn’t fall during the ascent. She reached for a portion of the wall that jutted out, and grabbed hold. She found a small outcropping to place her foot on. She took a step up, climbing one rock at a time. She was careful, silent, and her movements were precise.

Five minutes of scaling, she glanced down. She was more than halfway up. “Don’t stop now. Keep going Rivkah,” she whispered to herself.

Her foot slipped, and she gasped, her fingers grasping the rough rock, her legs dangling and flailing as she attempted to find another foot placement.

She heard several clicks from the lookout, and a Kelhoon stepped forward.

Rivkah found a foothold and pressed herself as flat against the wall as she could, hoping the shadows did their trick. Her body shook, not from fear, but because her muscles were straining from the effort of keeping her flat against the wall. Tightening her stomach, her biceps and chest muscles kept her posture as straight as possible, and it wasn’t easy. Most people would relax and fall, their muscles not trained like hers. She patted herself on the back, mentally. Not too shabby for someone who was out of practice and quite rusty.

The Kelhoon leaned over, observing the wall, and then the ground. “Goskajava kamanka.”

Rivkah closed her eyes, imagining she was invisible. It felt like a child’s trick, but it had worked with Slade, though that mental cloaking was designed to hide her energy signature, not her physical body. She had no idea if Abdu’s parlor trick would render her invisible.

The Kelhoon made a few clicks with his throat, then backed away.

Rivkah took a deep breath, then relaxed, curling her spine away from the wall, stretching it out as best she could without losing her grip. She pulled herself up and climbed until she made it to the edge of the lookout. She took a peak over the tower’s lip. A Kelhoon was sitting, drinking from a pipe which extended down into a mug. He was probably sipping blood—human or Atlantean.

Rage came over her and her Chi rose from her solar plexus and blasted through her limbs. She catapulted herself into the lookout, landing on the metallic floor.

The Kelhoon’s eyes bugged out and he flung the mug in the air, reaching for

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