Invaded (2 page)

She expected him to cop an attitude, but he dropped his gaze into his lap. An emotion
she couldn’t place darkened his features. It looked a lot like guilt, which didn’t
make sense.
Troy was too self-absorbed to feel guilty.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “There’s something you’re not telling—”

She was interrupted by the buzzing of a thousand hornets inside her skull, her com-sphere’s
irritating-but-effective way of alerting her to an incoming transmission. Cringing,
she snatched
the gadget into her fist and whispered her password against its cool metal shell.

Mom’s and Dad’s six-inch holograms flickered to life beside her nutrient packet while
Troy hopped onto the table and slid across its slick surface to occupy the spot next
to her.

“Merry Christmas!” Mom called, waving from her seat atop Dad’s lap. They had settled
on the magnolia-festooned living room sofa, and Dad wore a jolly red sweater that
clashed
with his orange hair. It was a cornucopia of tackiness, but Cara had never beheld
a more beautiful sight.

If she listened closely, she could just make out Bing Crosby’s buttery voice crooning
“I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” which was kind of ironic, considering. She returned
the greeting along with Troy, then held up her nutrition bar. “Did you finish dinner?
I thought we could eat together.”

“Oh,” Mom said, “we got takeout from the Szechuan place down the street.” Her cherry
lips curved in a smile, but she couldn’t hide the sadness in her voice.
“Didn’t seem right, cooking a big meal for just the two of us.”

Cara wilted and tossed aside her packet. “I hate these protein bars anyway.”

“I can barely see you,” Mom said. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

Troy pulled his laptop closer and adjusted the settings to brighten the screen. “They’re
pretty frugal with energy here.”

“Good for them,” Dad piped up. “Now lean in so I can get a closer look.” Cara and
Troy obeyed, pressing their cheeks together to let Dad scrutinize them. Dad nodded
in
approval until his gaze settled on Troy. “When’re you going to cut that hair, Rapunzel?
I can’t believe your CO lets you wear the uniform when you look like that.”

Troy’s hand darted to the loose black curls—identical to Mom’s—that brushed the tops
of his shoulders. His hair was almost long enough to wear in a low ponytail like the
L’eihrs did. Wrinkling his brow, he argued, “When in Rome…”

“Get a trim,” Dad said, then turned his attention to Cara. A grin broke out across
his face. “Pepper, I can’t get used to the sight of you in that L’eihr getup. You
remind me of those little fan girls who wear costumes and dye their skin brown.”

“L’annabes,” Mom supplied with a soft snort.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Self-consciously, Cara smoothed down the front of her tunic. She couldn’t get used
to wearing the uniform, either, or pulling her auburn waves into the same low braid
every day. She missed
her jeans and scoop-necked sweaters, not to mention her leather riding boots and double-barrel
curling iron.

But saving Earth was worth the sacrifice. And so was Aelyx.

Clearly Dad’s thoughts traveled on the same wavelength. “You hear from Aelyx lately?”

“He called a couple days ago,” she said. “He’s staying with the ambassador in Manha—”
She cut off as a miniature white ball of fur pattered into the hologram
and hopped onto Mom’s lap. It looked like an overgrown hamster. Cara extended a finger.
“What’s that?”

Mom cuddled the fluffball against her cheek and made smoochy noises at it. “Say hello
to your new baby brother, Linus. He’s a German-Malty-Doodle-Poo.” Then she spoke directly
to her furbaby. “Who’s Mommy’s little sweetums? You are! Yes, you are!”

What in the ever-loving hell was a German-Malty-Doodle-Poo?

“We adopted him from the shelter,” Dad explained, not sounding pleased. “I think your
mother’s got Empty Nest Syndrome.”

Mom elbowed him in the ribs while Cara exchanged a puzzled glance with Troy.

“But I’m allergic to dogs, remember?” Cara said. “What happens when we come home to
visit?”

Mom waved a dismissive hand. “That won’t be for ages.”

“Uh, actually…” Troy began, then stopped to clear his throat. “I’ll be home sooner
than I expected. Colonel Rutter’s calling me back to Earth. I got orders
yesterday.”

Cara almost sprained her neck whipping around to face him.
“What?”

Troy took a defensive tone. “I only came to L’eihr because of the student exchange
program, and now they’re saying it’s over. The other two humans won’t come
because they’re scared. The Marines want me to report back to—”

“When?” Cara demanded.

He couldn’t meet her gaze. “Two weeks.”

Cara wiped her sweaty palms on her pants. No, this couldn’t be right. The Marines
had agreed to station Troy here for two years, until the original exchange students—herself
included—returned home. If he left now, she’d be alone. The only human on a planet
full of mankind-loathing L’eihrs. She had exaggerated on the blog when she’d referred
to
her “friends.” Only one clone aboard the transport gave her the time of day, and that
was Aelyx’s sister.

Troy was undeniably a horse’s ass, but he was
her
horse’s ass, and she loved him. There had to be a way to keep him with her. He could
go AWOL. What were the Marines going
to do, court-martial him from Earth?

“No,” she told him with a firm shake of her head. “You can’t go. The program isn’t
over. I’m still here, and…”
I need you.

“But that’s the thing,” Troy said. “You’re an official colonist now, not an exchange
student. When the year’s over, you’re staying on L’eihr.
Like, forever.”

“Pepper,” Mom said tentatively, “if you’re not happy there, you can come home with
your brother.”

A light
ding!
chimed from Troy’s laptop as the incoming electronic data began delivering comments
to Cara’s blog post.

Cara tapped the touchpad and closed her Web page before any more discouraging remarks
popped up. She’d committed to this life, and she wasn’t turning back.

A shrill
yip!
forced her attention to Mom, who held Linus over one shoulder and patted his back,
burping him like an infant. It was official—Cara had been replaced by a
German-Malty-Doodle-Poo. In two weeks, she’d lose her brother, and once they landed
on L’eihr, she wouldn’t have a friend in the world.

This was the worst Christmas ever.

“This is the best Christmas present ever!” A L’annabe danced from one foot to the
other, nearly slipping on the icy sidewalk while Aelyx autographed her copy
of
Squee Teen
.

“Not a problem.” After scrawling a quick signature, Aelyx returned the girl’s magazine.

She stared at his glossy eight-by-ten photograph and sighed dreamily while her friend
thrust a copy of
Fangasm
at him and asked, “Did you and Cara really have a secret wedding?
’Cause that’s
sooooo
romantic!”

“Excuse me, miss.” A young national guardsman named Sharpe extended one palm toward
the girl. “I need you to step back.”

She nodded and obediently retreated a pace, joining a dozen other girls, each dressed
in mock L’eihr uniforms, their hair fastened into low ponytails. The only threat they
posed was
admiring Aelyx to death. But while he found his guard detail overzealous at times,
he was grateful for their presence. His last visit to Earth had ended in an attempt
on his life, and he wished to
return to Cara with all his parts intact.

“No,” he told the girl, forcing a smile. “Humans and L’eihrs can’t legally wed.” He
added with a wink, “Yet.”

“Oh, gods,” groaned Syrine, his former best friend. Emphasis on
former
. They’d barely exchanged ten words since she’d tried turning Cara against him on
the
transport. Syrine shoved him aside and jogged up the front steps leading to the penthouse
apartment they shared with the L’eihr ambassador. Two armed guards followed her inside.

“You should probably wrap it up,” Private Sharpe whispered. “You’re exposed out here.”

A frigid gust of wind stung the back of Aelyx’s neck, sending a shiver across every
inch of his flesh. He’d never felt winter’s bite until his travels to Earth, and gods
willing, he never would again after this mission ended. A warm fireplace beckoned
from upstairs, and Sharpe didn’t need to ask him twice.

“Just one more,” Aelyx said to the girls, eliciting a chorus of disappointed moans.
He was poised to sign his name when a sudden movement in his periphery caught his
eye.

Glancing to the side, Aelyx noticed a uniformed guardsman approaching quickly from
an armored Hum-V parked at the curb, his boots loudly crunching over the salt and
slush that carpeted the
street. A pink scar stood in contrast against the man’s ivory forehead, his brown
eyes fixed straight ahead at no one in particular. Aelyx scanned the soldier’s jacket
but found no name
tag.

Why didn’t he have a name tag?

When the soldier broke into a jog, Aelyx’s body tensed, his instincts on high alert.
Before a question could form on his lips, the man drew his pistol and aimed it over
Aelyx’s
heart. In a voice colder than morning frost, the man rasped, “This is from the Patriots,”
and pulled the trigger.

Adrenaline surging, Aelyx reacted, but not quickly enough. As he dodged right, a deafening
crack pierced his eardrums and two hundred pounds of force knocked him to the frozen
asphalt. A
cocktail of screams, shuffling boots, and counterfire flooded his senses.

It took Aelyx a moment to realize that not only was he alive, but that Sharpe lay
atop him. Aelyx freed himself and propped on one elbow in time to see the rogue gunman
tear down the street and
vanish between two townhomes. Several guardsmen followed in pursuit while the rest
of their unit scrambled to secure the area.

Sharpe rolled onto his back with a deep groan and asked, “You all right?”

Aelyx patted his chest and moved his arms and legs in a brief inventory. “Yes.” A
glance at Sharpe revealed a wet patch of blood slowly spreading across the outside
of his shoulder.
“But you’re not.”

Sharpe followed Aelyx’s gaze to the wound before he gave a frustrated grunt and rested
his head on the ground. “Just a scratch. But it’s gonna sting when the rush wears
off.”

Up close, Aelyx realized for the first time how young the man was, likely no more
than twenty. They might even be the same age, which surprised him. Sharpe’s bravery
and quick reflexes
rivaled that of a seasoned warrior. “You took a bullet intended for me.”

Sharpe shrugged his good shoulder. “Part of my job.”

Aelyx couldn’t help smiling at the boy’s stoicism. They could use more like him on
L’eihr. “Well, thanks for doing it so thoroughly, Private Sharpe.”

Sharpe chuckled, then grimaced in pain and extended his opposite hand. “Call me David.”

C
ara fastened her five-point harness, wincing when the seat-belt strap brushed the
sensitive inoculation scar on the inside of her wrist. Judging
by the quarter-size lump beneath her skin, she wouldn’t catch a single sniffle on
L’eihr, which suited her just fine. The last thing she needed was an alien stomach
flu. L’eihrs
were smarter, faster, and stronger than humans, so their viruses could probably melt
steel. After buckling her clasp, she nestled back against her seat beside Troy, who
hadn’t said a word
since they’d boarded the shuttle five minutes ago.

When Elle padded through the doorway and settled in the row of seats facing them,
Troy’s posture stiffened and he tucked his black curls behind both ears—not much of
a reaction, but
enough to make Cara suspect he was crushing on Aelyx’s sister. This didn’t come as
any great shock. With her mile-long lashes and delicate features, Elle was a natural
beauty. Plus, she
had a nurturing spirit, which probably accounted for her position as medic aboard
the ship. But Troy’s timing was terrible. Elle’s
l’ihan
had been murdered in China a few
weeks ago, and she mourned him in her own quiet way.

Troy drummed his fingertips against his thigh. “Can’t wait to feel the ground beneath
my feet again,” he said, mostly talking to Elle. He released a shaky laugh and bounced
one
booted heel against the floor. Poor guy, he had it bad—totally alien-whipped.