"Callie?"

I've never heard Mom sound so scared. Even when I was little and had to get stitches in my forehead, she was soothing, calm, even though I was bleeding a lot. But now, Mom sounds terrified. And I completely understand. Whatever Callie just said, it wasn't good, judging by how she's curled up and sobbing at our feet.

Callie turns her head to look up at Mom. "Emily..." she whimpers. "E-Emily..." She pushes herself up to sit on the bottom step, her whole body trembling.

Mom crouches in front of her, takes one of her hands. "Tell me what happened," she requests softly.

Callie gulps and wipes her face on her shirt. Takes a deep, shuddering breath. A small sob escapes from her as she catches her breath. "I-I was on m-my planet. In a flashback. And I-"

She hunches her shoulders, burrows her face in her knees, and wails, "My poppa's d-d-dead!"

Mom wraps Callie in her arms, and Callie presses her face into Mom's neck. "He's d-dead, I w-w-watched it, Henri's dead too..."

"Who's Henri?" I ask, kneeling next to Mom, who throws me a filthy look. I wince slightly, realizing how insensitive my question was.

Callie shakes her head against Mom's neck and hunches her shoulders. "A f-friend. He gave me this-is." She pulls away and takes her locket off.

Mom takes it and opens it. "Is this your family?" she asks, holding it out.

Callie nods and points at one of the pictures. "P-Poppa," she says simply.

I look at the picture over Mom's shoulder. Even though I already glanced at them, I never took a good look. The man in the photo stands tall, chin held high. I can see Callie not only in his facial structure, but in his eyes-the dark cast underneath the sheer happiness.

Mom snaps it shut and hands it back to Callie. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart," she whispers.

Callie leans her head on Mom's shoulder, takes a heaving breath, and cries. Somewhere in her sobs I hear her moan, "I want to go home."

Mom hugs her again, rocks her back and forth. I've never seen Callie so...broken. Vulnerable. It's scary.

About five minutes later, Callie lifts her head and pulls away from Mom. "I'm sorry," she whispers hoarsely, drying her face on her sleeve. "I'm s-sorry. I didn't me-mean to-to break like that."

"It's okay, honey," Mom soothes. "You're okay."

"No, I'm not. I need to be strong, and I can't." She gasps and buries her head in her hands. I realize she's thinking the same thing as me. This is the girl who supposedly can protect Earth from aliens, reduced to bawling on her foster mom's shoulder over her father's death-a father who, as I understand it, betrayed her.

"Simon's coming," she mumbles into her palms. "I don't know when, but he is. At most, it will be three months. But I don't know. I don't know anything!"

She stands up shakily, wiping her palms on her jeans. Her face is red and blotchy, her cheeks still damp. "I need to check something," she mutters, turning to scramble up the stairs. She trips on the third step but still keeps going, climbing a couple stairs on her hands and knees before picking herself up again. 

"What was that?" I ask Mom. "Her passing out-and flickering-what happened?"

"I've no idea," Mom says with a frown. "She never made a mention of it."

Although I witnessed it with my own eyes, I have no idea what happened-nor do I believe it. Was it a flashback? Premonition? Some other crazy time-travel-alien-BS? It's all too hard to believe. There's too much information going on, too many coincidences to be real. I don't want to ask Callie, not because I don't want to be rude-she did (supposedly) watch her father die-but because I've learned that getting answers out of Callie is like teaching a rock to speak. It's damn near impossible, and I'm pretty sure a rock tells more than her. She lied to us the past three months.

No. She didn't always lie, I think. She avoided the truth. Avoided her past. Because she didn't trust us. She was overcautious, but now I guess it doesn't matter. "Tell the truth, and damn the consequences, because they'll be worse if you lie," Dad always said. But what's the consequences now? Her worst enemy's coming. Her foster family's in disbelief. Even I don't believe her, and my instinct says she's telling the truth.

I'm in disbelief. My father's dead. Henri's dead. That silly man, with his blue hair and crazy suits and presents for the Keepers, the man we sometimes referred to as "Uncle Henri" is dead. And even though my father's a traitor to his family-to his daughter-it hurts so badly to know he's dead. To watch him die, seeing his broken body. I hope neither of them felt anything. I hope they're with the Elder Gods and James. I hope the rest of my family's still alive, though. I can't take another death.

Does my family know that my father betrayed them? Do they know that Poppa gave me over? Or are Momma and Artemis still in the dark, like I was for so long? Part of me doesn't want them to find out but I still feel like they need to know. And I don't want to be the one to break the news to them-if I see them again. And I swear to Bixan I want to, more than anything. I want them to be safe, free from harm. I don't want them meeting the same fate as James, and Henri, and Poppa, and Astrid, my best friend from training...

I need to check two things. One, when Simon left. Two, Amacus. Like my family, I need to know he's okay. He's a warrior at heart (minus his weak stomach for blood) but he's still mortal, and can still get hurt.

I sit on my bed and close my eyes. I focus on Simon's space shuttle (that he stole after taking over Marix, along with a teleporter and the portal to Tura), trying to find when it left port.

Several people are in a large, stone cavern with a metal floor with a slight curve to it. A trapdoor stands open by them.

Simon paces impatiently. "When will we be ready to leave?" he demands.

"In a moment, sir," says another man. I know him. He's Azeran, but a traitor. He guarded my room on Marix after the base collapsed. He had electrified the bars of my cell, preventing me from reaching through. I hope he doesn't make it through the war.

"A moment-you said that twenty minutes ago! How long's a damn moment?!" Simon shouts. "Will we be ready today or not?"

"Sir, I have no instructions from control. I cannot let you enter the ship just yet."

Simon suggests that he tells control to perform an inappropriate act on themselves, which the man ignores. Instead, he pulls out a black box thing-if I remember correctly, it's called a walkie talkie-and talks to it. "Are all systems go?"

"Just about. Hang on, Preed," a female voice issuing from the box replies.

"Tell that to the boss," Preed mutters. Thankfully, Simon doesn't hear him. Instead, he's distracted by Kira trying to rub his shoulders.

Shrugging off his human girlfriend, he asks, "Are all systems go?"

"Just about," Preed says.

"Good. We must leave immediately, Preed."

"Have a little patience, Simon," Kira says. "It's a virtue." 

"Don't give your human crap. I'm serious. We have to leave. She could be forming an army any moment."

"She's not you," Kira mutters.

"What did you say?"

"I said," Kira says louder, "that Callie's not like you. She doesn't want to fight. And she doesn't know how to make people fight."

Simon takes reassurance in the idea of little resistance, completely missing Kira's scorn. She doesn't like the fighting either, I think.

"Systems are go," the box says with a crackling noise.

"Finally! About time!" Simon throws his hands in the air and strolls to the trapdoor, where he lowers himself in.

"Well, that is what Callie's all about," Kira says. "Preed, are you coming?"

"Hell yeah," Preed replies, losing his formality. "I've always wanted to see Earth."

He leads the way, through the trapdoor, down a ladder, and into a spacious, white room. Several computers line the walls, and five seats of dark grey face a blank wall. One of the seats is in front of a control board of sorts. That's the seat Simon takes.

Kira sits at one of the computers and turns it on. She opens up a blank file and begins typing. Just the first few lines-the time and date are all I need. When I see the date, I almost pass out.

That date was from 2 and a half months ago. I have only half an Azeran month to find a way to defend Earth.

That thought's shaken from my head-almost literally. The room begins to tremble, and even though I can't feel it, it's disorienting. The blank wall slides back, revealing the empty field of space. Then the room seems to drop, drawing gasps from the passengers, including me. For a moment, I think my ears are ringing, until Preed asks nervously, "What's that humming?"

"Just the motors," Simon reassures him. He reaches forward and flicks a switch. The hum grows into a roar.

Kira moves to another computer. "Main engines are warming up. We will depart in five minutes."

"Excellent," Simon says, rubbing his hands together.