Invaded (12 page)

Cara strode across the nursery, still searching for her sick baby. She eventually
found him at one of the feeding stations, suckling clear fluid from a plastic sack
attached to the wall. She
motioned toward him. “I can feed him his electrolytes.”

Gram appeared confused at first, but then understanding dawned on her face. “Oh, no,
Miss Sweeney.” She shook her head as if Cara had proposed a blood sacrifice. “We never
hold
the children while they feed. It’s important they don’t associate food with comfort.”

Just add this to the list of
Top Ten Reasons Why L’eihr Is Whack-a-Doodle
. “But food
is
comforting,” Cara said. The scent of Mom’s gingerbread still had
the power to transport Cara to her happy place. And nothing took the edge off an awful
day like a few squares of dark chocolate.

“That may be true on Earth,” Gram said, “but here, food is fuel for our bodies. Nothing
more. Our meals nourish us, and while we might enjoy the experience, it’s not
meant as a form of pleasure or a means of finding solace.”

Maybe if L’eihr food weren’t so tasteless, Gram would feel differently.

But the woman was wrong about L’eihrs not finding solace through familiar foods. During
the exchange, Aelyx had lit up every time Mom made roast for supper—not because of
its
nutrients, but because it tasted like
l’ina
. Each bite had nourished him in a way that had nothing to do with protein. That’s
why Cara had flipped out when Syrine waltzed into
Aelyx’s bedroom to announce she’d cooked his favorite supper. There was love in a
good meal—not that Cara had ever produced what she’d call a
good
meal, but
still.

Cara kept those observations to herself while turning toward her sick baby. “But he’s
not feeling well. He could use an extra cuddle, don’t you think?”

The smile on Gram’s face said,
Silly human
, but she conceded the battle. “You may hold him once he’s drained the supplement
bag.”

While Cara waited, she knelt on the mat and smiled at the pair of infants, their tiny
legs kicking out, fists balled, eyes wide and peering at the dust motes dancing in
the sunlight. She noticed
they shared identical features—their lips slightly asymmetrical, the same cleft dimpling
both their chins.

“Are these twins?” Cara asked. She hadn’t met a pair of identical clones until now.
Aelyx had said the geneticists never used the same archive twice in a generation.

“You’re very observant,” Gram answered. “These were the last younglings incubated
in the artificial wombs.”

“But why two? Are they gifted?”

“You could say that.” Gram stared into empty air and zoned out, the ghost of a grin
on her lips. “I remember the last clone from that archive. He grew up in this Aegis.
Such a
gentle boy, always smiling. The others gravitated toward him—he was a friend to everyone.
Empathy was his gift.”

From the way Gram spoke about the boy in past tense, Cara wasn’t sure whether he’d
moved to the work dormitories or if he’d died.

“I believe you met him briefly during his stay on Earth,” Gram continued. “His name
was Eron.”

The hair on the back of Cara’s neck prickled, and she glanced around the room to make
sure Elle hadn’t returned. The last thing her roommate needed right now was to meet
the double
reincarnation of her dead
l’ihan
. Cara tried to imagine how she’d feel in the same situation, but she couldn’t wrap
her mind around it.

Cara gazed at the baby nearest to her. “I can’t believe this is Eron.”

“He’s not,” Gram said, her chrome eyes lingering on the child. “This is Mica.” She
stroked the other infant’s arm. “And this is Ilar.” She
delivered a pointed look. “Eron is dead. We can generate new offspring from that archive,
but they will be shaped by their own experiences. Each clone’s path is distinctive.
The young
man you and I knew as Eron is gone forever.”

Naturally, Elle chose that moment to rejoin them. The word
Eron
moved silently on her lips while she blinked in confusion. Moments later, the pieces
must have clicked into place,
because she glanced back and forth between the twins, the color gone from her face.
Her throat worked as she swallowed, her eyes welling, her grief forcing its way to
the surface. But in true Elle
fashion, she stuffed down her emotions and stubbornly set her jaw.

“Elle and I should go,” Cara said to Gram. “Maybe tomorrow we can work with the older
children.”
Away from the nursery and reminders of Eron’s crooked
smile.
“I’d like to learn some basics of science with them.”

“Of course,” Gram said. She might have been talking to Cara, but she regarded Elle
when she spoke. “You can’t move ahead until you face what impedes you.”

Definitely a message for Elle—but one best pondered from the privacy of their room.
Cara pushed off the mat and gave her roommate a gentle tug. Elle stiffened at the
bodily contact, but
she didn’t complain when Cara linked their arms and led the way out of the nursery.
Instead of the main elevators, they took the secondary stairwell on the far end of
the Aegis and made their
way down to the first floor.

They let the echo of their boots fill the silence, Elle deflecting each of Cara’s
glances in a message that she didn’t want to talk. Cara recognized that avoidance
tactic.
She’d used it years ago, when Mom had begun her second round of chemo and Dad stopped
coming home from his hospital visits. Then Troy had snuck off to join the Marines,
snapping Cara’s
last tether to normalcy. Her friends had known better than to ask if she was okay.

But when they reached their hallway, it was Cara’s turn to fight for composure. Sitting
in the middle of the floor was Troy’s luggage: two military-issue duffel bags and
a black
trunk with
SWEENEY
,
USMC
stenciled on the lid.

Cara’s boot soles clung to the floor. Until now, she’d managed to block out Troy’s
departure date in hopes that he wouldn’t abandon her this time.

Troy’s door hissed aside and he hauled another bag into the hallway. Then the
real
blow came—a cold shot to Cara’s chest that made it hard to breathe.

He’d cut his hair.

Troy’s loose black curls were gone, replaced by the standard military “high and tight.”
She remembered his words to Dad on Christmas morning,
When in Rome….
In
Troy’s camouflage uniform and buzz cut, dog tags clinking together against his chest,
not a trace of L’eihr remained on him.

Troy’s eyes widened when they met hers. He stood stock-still without saying a word.

“What’s the matter?” Elle asked.

Of course Elle wouldn’t understand. L’eihrs didn’t form family bonds. Genetics only
tied them together as strongly as whatever friendship they formed, if any. She and
Aelyx
were more like buddies than brother and sister.

“It’s fine,” Cara said, keeping her gaze fixed on Troy. “Go ahead. I’ll meet you in
a minute.”

Troy took abrupt interest in his bootlaces, crouching to retie the left one. “Hey,”
he finally said. “Glad I caught you.”

Glad I caught you.
That implied he would have left without saying good-bye if their paths hadn’t crossed.

“Aw, come on, Pepper.” Still bent low, he scrubbed a palm over his fuzzy head. “Don’t
look at me like that.”

How should she look at him? With a smile and an easy wave good-bye?

At her silence, he pushed to standing. “I don’t have a choice. Sooner or later I have
to go.” His blue eyes bored into hers. “Because I don’t belong here. Neither
of us does.”

“I can make a life on the colony,” she insisted. It tasted like a lie, but she had
to keep believing.

“Come home with me,” Troy said. “There’s nothing for you to pack. You know everyone
misses you, especially Mom.”

His offer tempted her more than she wanted to admit, but she shook her head. “I can’t.”
The L’eihrs had almost called off the alliance after Eron died. She was the one
who’d convinced them to try again. “The alliance is too important.”

“Plus, you’re in love, right?” Troy mocked her with his tone. “You’re staying here
because you’ve found The One.”

“That, too.” She wrapped both arms around herself and tried to blink away the moisture
blurring her vision. “Either way, I can’t go.”

Troy turned his face aside and swore loudly. He splayed his hands. “The Marines issue
orders, not suggestions. What do you expect me to do, just tell them no?”

A lump formed in Cara’s throat, but she swallowed it and refused to make a sound.
He’d leave, no matter what she said. There was no use begging.

“What?” he pressed. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” she choked out. She’d made the decision to join this fledgling colony,
but Troy hadn’t. She had no right to ask him to stay.

Troy cursed again and braced himself against the wall, letting his forehead
thunk
against the stucco. For several seconds, he fell silent. Then he made a sudden move
for one of his
duffel bags. Cara sniffled, preparing to watch him grab his luggage and bolt for the
lobby.

But he didn’t.

Troy unzipped his bag and rummaged inside until he found his com-sphere. He mumbled
his passkey and connected with his unit on Earth. When his commander picked up the
line, Troy heaved an
aggravated sigh. “Sorry, sir. I missed my transport. I’ll have to catch the next one
in a couple weeks.”

While Cara listened to her brother mutter excuses and apologies, hot tears leaked
down her cheeks and made her blind. A few of her classmates passed in a sodden blur,
but she didn’t care
whether they shook their heads and called her an emotional fool. Let them think what
they wanted. She wasn’t alone—at least for now—and that was all that mattered.

Troy shoved his sphere into his duffel and stood, gripping his hips. “I hope you’re
happy. He’ll have my ass when I get back.”

Cara didn’t wait another second to lock both arms around his neck. She buried her
wet face in his shoulder and took in his scent of cinnamon Altoids and shaving cream.
Knowing he’d
push away soon, she filled her lungs with him and held it in.

“All right, all right.” He gave her a few token pats on the back and made a show of
glancing at the clones passing them in the hallway. “The ladies are going to get the
wrong
idea. If I’m stuck here for two more weeks, I might as well make the best of it.”

Laughing, Cara released him and used her tunic to blot her eyes. “I’d hate to hurt
your game, Casanova.”

“Oh, I got game!”

She shrugged. “You
smell
gamey, so there’s that.”

He shot her the bird and palmed his keypad. Together, they dragged all his luggage
back inside, and then Cara gave him her extra nutrient packet.

“Thanks.” He nodded his approval and yanked her braid. “Dorkus.”

Cara beamed at the insult. She never thought it could sound so sweet. “Any time.”

Inspiration struck that night, and she uploaded a new blog post. She knew Troy wouldn’t
read it—he never visited her site—but she didn’t care. She had a
message of hope to share with siblings across the universe.