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not sure who he was supposed to explain himself to.
    Petty dropped to his knees, weak and disoriented. “A slan—among my own secret police!”
    “Not a slan,” Gray insisted. “Don’t be an even bigger fool than you already are. He wanted
    to kill me as well as you. Look at the back of his head. It’s one of the tendrilless.”
    The other two shaken guards grabbed the traitor’s head, probed among his bristly dark
    hair, but could find no prosthetics, no makeup, nothing that covered the telltale signs of a
    hidden slan.
    As the guard lay choking in his own blood, he exhibited great strength, slan healing
    powers. “You don’t have a chance against my people .” Then he died.
    Petty glared at the remaining two guards, as if afraid they might pull their weapons and
    open fire, too. He brushed at the droplets of blood that had sprayed on his clean uniform, then
    whirled toward Gray sitting on his cot. “You were telling the truth.” It sounded like an
    accusation. “You were telling the truth! There are tendrilless slans.”
    “They are the ones you’ve always needed to fear,” Gray said.
    Petty backed out of the cell and gestured to his guards. “Get the body out of there, and lock
    him in again.” He turned to the surprised and meek courier. “All three of you, stay here and
    guard Gray.” This information changed everything. “I have to get back to the
    command-and-control center. We’re going to need new battle plans.”

CHAPTER 8
    « ^ »
    Jommy and Kathleen ran. Outside, the attack seemed to be growing worse.
    The underground levels of the grand palace were a labyrinth of corridors, subterranean
    chambers, shielded self-contained rooms like small bank vaults. Ages ago, slan conquerors had
    designed and constructed the immense structure during their brief reign over humanity. After
    so many subsequent administrations, Jommy doubted that anyone—even President
    Gray—knew the extent of all the passageways and secret underground rooms.
    He wondered if there were also interrogation rooms and torture chambers down here. How
    often had Gray himself used these detention cells?
    Each of the innumerable underground sectors was accessed by a different security protocol.
    Even veteran workers could easily get lost in the confusing monumental structure that was as
    large as a small city. The two escapees used that to their advantage now.
    After breaking out of their cells, they ran along, peering around corners, dashing down
    open stretches, trying doors that were either locked or led to empty rooms or simple offices.
    Klaxons blared and magenta warning lights flashed in the halls, sounding an evacuation,
    summoning security, unnecessarily warning of the invasion.
    “We have to find President Gray.” Kathleen hesitated, then added, “We have to find my
    father .”
    “We’ll find him.” Jommy squeezed her hand. “It may seem an impossible task, but people
    have always feared slans for our abilities. We may as well give them something to fear.”
    One large room had windows for walls. Inside, fifteen chairs surrounded a long boardroom
    table; black-and-white computer screens were embedded in the flat wood surface. “This must
    be a secondary command and control center.” Jommy looked around, perplexed. “But it’s
    empty, not even a backup team. What about the emergency?”
    Kathleen studied the room. “The palace probably has at least twenty rooms like this. The
    government is compartmentalized, everyone with their separate areas of responsibility. The
    President and his various advisors don’t trust each other during the best of times, and now that
    we’re being attacked…” She let her voice trail off. “I’ll bet there’s plenty that even John Petty
    doesn’t know about the palace.”
    He was about to continue the search for Kier Gray’s location, but Kathleen called him back.
    She pulled up a rolling chair in front of one of the black-and-white screens. “Wait,
    Jommy—help me. The