I didn't care — as long as I got the monsters away from the engine room and gave

Beckendorf more time.

 

As I was running up the stairwell, a kid charged down. He looked like he'd just

woken up from a nap.

 

His armor was half on. He drew his sword and yelled, "Kronos!" but he sounded

more scared than angry.

 

He couldn't have been more than twelve — about the same age I was when I'd first

arrived at Camp Half- Blood.

 

That thought depressed me. This kid was getting brainwashed — trained to hate

the gods and lash out because he'd been bom half Olympian. Kronos was using him,

and yet the kid thought I was his enemy.

 

No way was I going to hurt him. I didn't need a weapon for this. I stepped

inside his strike and grabbed his wrist, slamming it against the wall. His sword

clattered out of his hand.

 

Then I did something I hadn't planned on. It was probably stupid. It definitely

jeopardized our mission, but I couldn't help it.

 

"If you want to live," I told him, "get off this ship now. Tell the other