"Be careful what you say around the Blue Meanies," Noyze warned. "Your friend is talking to Twelve Hallowed Stones. He understands some human speech. They've designated us as enemies."

  "Why?" Jobs asked, though he could guess the answer.

  Noyze frowned. "They're jealous of us. They call themselves Mother's True Children. But they see Mother favoring us somehow. What are they supposed to feel?"

  "We don't want to be Mother's Children," Jobs explained unnecessarily. "Mother's damaged. The Blue Meanies want to fix her so they're welcomed again. We want to fix her so we're not her pawns anymore. Our goal doesn't conflict with the Meanies' goal."

  "We're still the outsiders," 2Face said. "If the Meanies get to Mother first, do you think they're going to opt for peaceable coexistence? No way. It'll still be us against them."

  "2Face is right," Dr. Cohen said.

  "It shouldn't be that way," Jobs said. "They assume we're invaders when actually we're captives."

  "Noyze," 2Face challenged, "do the Meanies have any weaknesses we can exploit? Anything they want badly enough that we can give them?"

  Noyze looked to Dr. Cohen.

  "Nothing we noticed," Dr. Cohen said. "Except for the fact that out of their suits the Children are fairly defenseless."

  Jobs watched as Miss Blake approached through the same corridor he'd taken. He introduced her.

  "I couldn't get anywhere with him," she said worriedly. "Assuming he understood what I was trying to say. I don't see how we can get them to commit to an alliance."

  "We're the enemy in the enemy camp," 2Face said grimly."Totally vulnerable."

  Suddenly, there was a loud whirring or chirping, like the unexpected cacophony of cicadas on a summer night. Jobs, Miss Blake, 2Face, and Edward raced back onto the playing field, following Noyze and Dr. Cohen. Five of the Blue Meanies hovered in the air, their tentacles working madly.

  "They're sounding an alarm," Noyze said. "We're being attacked."

  CHAPTER 19

  "THIS IS GOING TO BE AWESOME."

  The entire thing was insane. He was a kid from the twenty-first century, wearing a modified Union officer's uniform from the nineteenth century, about to throw down with a bunch of aliens in the twenty-sixth century, who were, Yago just knew, really, really ticked off.

  This was not in the game plan, any of it. And the worst thing was there was no way of escaping Mother's clutches. Once you were in, there was no way out. Oh, except one. Death.

  The cavalry had stopped about a mile away from some huge structure that Yago recognized as the Washington Warriors' stadium. Sort of. The real Warriors' stadium wasn't decorated like some psychedelic trip. What in his subconscious had created that?

  Back in his old life Yago had had season tickets to every home game, stellar seats in the skybox. Security for Yago and his family and friends at those big public events had been a royal pain but Yago dealt with it.

  Yago watched General Sheridan's men unlimbering the cannons. They were going to fight the super-advanced alien enemy with cannons and bayonets and slingshots, for all he knew. One of the soldiers even carried a bugle. Another one carried a huge flag with an ugly mix of stars, stripes, and Yago's smiling face.

  At least he wasn't the only one looking distinctly uncomfortable. Yago had always been able to get satisfaction out of others' misery. He had that going for him.

  Burroway. The guy was clearly petrified. Yago had seen him throwing up behind one of the munitions wagons. Now he stood, mouth clamped shut, T.R. jabbering away next to him. No doubt T.R. was trying to convince Burroway they should make a break for it.

  What they didn't know was that with Mother, there was no making a break.

  Or was there? Would Mother care if they ran off, as long as Yago remained on the battlefield, keeping his promise?

  "You, Burroway, T.R.," Yago called, striding toward the two men. "Stop standing around and report to General Sheridan."

  Burroway's eyes got that indignant look. The one that tried unsuccessfully to mask fear.

  "That's an order," Yago growled. "Failure to carry out an order from your commanding officer will result in court-martial."

  Where had he gotten that? Some movie. Anyway, the threat worked. Burroway and T.R. Scurried off, T.R.'s too-long uniform pants flapping around his ankles.

  "Yago, man!"

  It was Anamull, slow-jogging toward him. Anamull was sweating even more than Yago in his ill-fitting, not quite standard-issue wool uniform. Why Mother had insisted they wear them, through a message from Sheridan, Yago couldn't guess. Maybe Mother had a sense of humor after all.

  "This is going to be awesome," Anamull shouted.

  Yago cringed. "I'm standing right here, idiot," he said. "Go assist the ... those soldiers." He pointed.

  Anamull didn't seem to mind the reprimand. He bounded off toward a small group of soldiers who were cleaning their rifles.

  "Yago!"

  Yago almost groaned aloud. Why didn't they all just leave him alone? Now it was Tate, toting a rifle over her left shoulder, pinning him with her eyes.

  "What is it, soldier?" Yago barked.

  "I don't know why exactly we're doing this," Tate said, staring hard at Yago. "Why should we help Mother when she's the cause of all this craziness? But if someone attacks you, you fight back. That I understand. So if the Blue Meanies fire first, I'll fire back in self-defense. Not because I'm obeying your command. I want to be clear on that. After what you tried back at the tower, I don't trust you, Yago."

  "Okay, fine," he mumbled, turning away before he said something stupid.

  "Yago!"

  Olga Gonzalez. Yago sighed. She was another problem.

  Yago turned and waited until she slipped and slid her way up the dune.

  "I'm not going to fight, Yago," she said. "I'm a conscientious objector. You can't make me participate in an act of aggression or violence."

  "Fine," he snapped. "But as long as I'm in charge, you'll make yourself useful. Somehow. Don't go far. Stay with the medics."

  Olga didn't respond to his order. She just turned and slid back down the dune. Yago did not have a lot of faith in her loyalty.

  At this moment, Yago did not have a lot of faith in anybody. Least of all, himself.

  CHAPTER 20

  THINGS WERE ONLY GETTING WORSE

  "Don't look now, but we're surrounded."

  2Face spoke very quietly. It seemed the right thing to do under the circumstances. Standing unprotected out in the open like they were, a menacing circle of Blue Meanies forming.

  "Suddenly, I don't feel so good," Dr. Cohen said, with a nervous laugh."Maybe it's the sun."

  2Face saw another Blue Meanie pop up in the bleachers. And another.

  "Or maybe it's the fact that we're about to be skewered," 2Face said. "So, do we stand here like idiots or do we haul butt out of here?"

  "Follow me," Noyze said. "I know this place best of all. If we can't escape maybe we can hide."

  "Back in through the corridor?" Jobs said.

  Noyze nodded. "On three. One. Two. Three!"

  The six turned and ran straight for the corridor. Jobs tripped over a hanging shred of Violet's skirt. Dr. Cohen stumbled over her own feet.

  "Go, go, go!" 2Face shouted. She didn't want to but she hung back and herded the others ahead of her, across the field, into the relative darkness of the corridor. Too close behind her, 2Face heard the whirring and clatter of the Meanies as they followed.

  "Which way?" Jobs cried when the corridor opened onto the concourse.

  Noyze pointed left and everyone took off again. 2Face pumped her legs, lifting them high, feet slapping down on tile over concrete. She figured she was the only one of the group who might be able to outrun one of the Blue Meanies - maybe. Already she'd passed Noyze. Well, they were all on their own. Except maybe for the kid, Edward. She'd do what she could to help him.

  2Face ran past concession stands closed tight, metal gates drawn down from the ceiling to the floor and locked. Hot boiled peanuts, supersized sodas, cotton candy, beer. Behind her, the slap slap slap of feet.

  There had to be a place to hide! To wait out this stupid battle until the environment shifted again and they found themselves someplace else.

  Anyplace but here.

  * * *

  "This is for you, Mr. President."

  Yago whirled.

  General Sheridan stood with him on the dune. He held out a stubby-looking sword in its scabbard.

  "What is it?" Yago asked stupidly.

  "Mr. President, this is a Roman-style artillery short sword. This weapon allows a man to get up close to his enemy and gut him up under the ribs. Highly effective for hand-to-hand combat."

  "Can I ... " Yago swallowed hard. He tried again. "I want a regular sword," he said, trying to stare forcefully at the little general.

  General Sheridan's face remained impassive but Yago knew the man was mocking him inside.

  "You are to have both, Mr. President." Sheridan produced a weapon from behind his back like cartoon figures produced signs - automatically and impossibly. "We call this magnificent weapon Old Wristbreaker. You won't go wrong with this, sir."

  Yago nodded. Things were only getting worse. He put out his hand for the short sword and buckled it on. Then he took the saber. The weight made his wrist collapse weakly. Old Wristbreaker was right. He'd never be able to use this thing.

  "One more essential piece, Mr. President," General Sheridan said. "Your Remington revolver. A fine pistol."

  Yago took that, too, and slipped it under his belt.

  "Now you're ready to ride against the enemy," General Sheridan pronounced.

  No, Yago protested silently. No, I'm not.

  Yes, you are. You are ready. I have helped you. I have made sure.

  And you will be victorious, human with the strange eyes. You promised me you would be victorious.

  "We are ready to begin firing."

  "What? I mean, very good, General. You may give the order."

  General Sheridan squinted up at Yago."Sir, with all due respect, it's your job to give the order to bombard the Rebel stronghold."

  "Of course. Right." Yago glanced around for Tamara and the baby but he couldn't spot them amid the shifting crowd of soldiers and horses and cannons.

  He was on his own.

  Yago and General Sheridan left the dune and approached the soldiers lined up behind the row of ten cannons.

  Yago cleared his throat. General Sheridan was watching him. The team of soldiers at each cannon was waiting.

  "Fire!" he yelled.

  Ba-BOOM! Ba-BOOM!

  Cannon after cannon fired, was reloaded, fired again. And the stadium walls began to be pockmarked with holes. Yago watched, fascinated. The walls were crumbling. They had looked so strong but they were falling down into piles of concrete rubble and rebar. Clouds of smoke and dust billowed up from the wreckage.

  "This just might work," Yago whispered. Adrenaline surged through his body. He was responsible for this destruction. He was in charge.

  "Blast open the main entrance!" he shouted.

  CHAPTER 21

  IT FELT LIKE BEING THE KING.

  Ba-BOOM! Ba-BOOM!

  Violet's eyes closed and her shoulders hunched and her hands clenched with every blast.

  The sound of cannon fire was a weapon in and of itself. She hadn't liked it back on the Constitution and she didn't like it now.

  Edward whimpered and Violet put her arm around him. They were huddled behind the counter of a twisty-pretzel stand. Violet read the menu up on the wall. Caramel pretzels. Extra-salt pretzels. Bubble-gum pretzels. Ugh.

  I would do anything for a piece of grilled swordfish, Violet thought. And a new pair of shoes. Patent leather would be nice.

  "This is ridiculous," 2Face whispered. "You couldn't find anyplace safer?"

  Noyze's eyes were wide with fear. "Everything's locked. I don't know why. I've gotten in the bathrooms and the janitor closets and the storerooms before."

  "They were prepared," Dr. Cohen said.

  "Better prepared than we gave them credit for," Violet added.

  Jobs rose carefully to peer over the edge of the counter. He dropped quickly. "Blue Meanie, coming this way."

  "Obviously, hiding is not the answer," 2Face said, her voice barely audible.

  "So, we keep running?" Violet shot a glance upward, half expecting to see a Blue Meanie leaning on the counter, watching them.

  2Face nodded. "Until Yago and his troops blast their way in.Then we can join up with them."

  Noyze suddenly tensed. She rolled her eyes in the direction of the concourse, beyond the counter.

  The Blue Meanie. Violet knew there was no reason for him to look behind this particular counter. She also knew there was no reason for him not to.

  Miraculously, the Meanie passed by. After a moment Jobs snuck another look and came back with a thumbs-up. But his expression was serious.

  "Okay," Violet mouthed. "We fight."

  Suddenly, a different sound. She cocked her head and put a finger to her lips.

  There it was. Unmistakable. The sound of a bugle. The sound of a charge.

  "Mr. President!" Yago turned to see General Sheridan draw his sword. "It's time to mount up! You will lead the charge."

  Yago grinned. He couldn't believe he'd been so afraid. As far as he could tell, they were totally winning. He hadn't seen one Blue Meanie fire back.

  Yago got on his horse. It was a chestnut mare with a black mane and tail. Yago liked how it felt sitting atop the beautiful animal. It felt like being the king.

  He surveyed his troops. Tamara and the baby were seated on a massive gray horse that looked more built for endurance than speed. The others, on their mounts, hung back behind the Union soldiers.

  For a second Yago considered pulling out Old Wristbreaker and leading the regiment like a real soldier. But if the sword was out he might be expected to use it. Instead, Yago took the Remington from his belt. His horse suddenly began to dance nervously. Yago yanked on the reins to steady her. And before he could issue the command, the horse bolted. Yago's neck snapped and his head was whipped back. "Ch-ch-charge," he called, and was aware of the sudden thunder of hooves behind him.

  Yago stuffed the pistol back into his belt and grabbed the reins with two hands. "Slow down!" he yelled. "Whoa!" But the horse kept racing toward the bombed entrance of the stadium.

  Yago was leading the charge, just like Mother wanted.

  He held on.

  When he was within several yards of the entrance Yago saw them. Blue Meanies swooping low, gathering, waiting.

  Again he yanked back on the reins but his horse paid no attention.

  And then they were in!

  And a thick swarm of - what? - was blanketing him. Yago screamed as his skin was pierced by thousands of tiny, razor-sharp pieces of metal.

  His horse reared wildly. Yago grabbed tighter with his knees and pressed his upper body against the horse's neck. Fléchettes tore through the worn wool of his uniform and lacerated his back. Then the horse's front hooves clattered back to earth and Yago couldn't believe he hadn't been thrown.

  "Aaggghhh !"

  A soldier down. Another one, just behind Yago.

  And then - a Blue Meanie careening wildly toward the ground. Yago hadn't seen what had hit him but he was fiercely glad to see the alien crash.

  "C'mon!" he urged, and this time, the horse understood. Yago crouched low and they galloped farther into the stadium, onto the playing field, across white chalk lines and toward the goalposts. Away from the front gates.

  Right into a wall of Blue Meanies, dropping out of the air, fléchette guns aimed straight at Yago.

  He heard General Sheridan shouting, "Fire! Fire!" and thought, Why? What was the use?

  They'd followed the sounds of the battle out onto the playing field. Blue Meanies hovered and dove and fired into the soldiers on the ground.

  It took Jobs about two seconds to see that the Meanies were winning.

  "Everybody grab a weapon," 2Face ordered. They left Edward hidden behind the front row of spectator seats.

  Jobs ran toward a uniformed body sprawled on its stomach.