Resident Alien: Department of Homeworld Security, Book 2

He reached for the stars and touched her heart…and a whole lot more.

The Department of Homeworld Security
, Book 2

Kira excels in her role as a planetary observer, but two years is a long time to be alone on the listening station orbiting Earth. In a moment of weakness, she answers one of the many voices reaching for deep space.

Brendan Sloan never thought he’d get a response to his transmissions. He suspects Kira is simply a government lackey keeping an eye on him between his top-secret communications projects. Still, her sultry voice is a geeky dream come true.

He’s stunned when an escape pod lands in his back yard, even more so when the alien who emerges removes her helmet and opens her luscious lips to speak. He knows that voice. It’s Kira, and she’s had to destroy her station to keep it out of enemy hands.

Their meeting of the minds—and of the flesh—is beyond anything they ever dreamed. But when they discover what the Tau Ceti are really after, they may not have a nanite’s chance in hell of saving Earth, much less their love.

Warning: Contains a hot geeky billionaire, an alien just learning what she can do with her lady parts, and vampire space frogs. Yeah, you heard me.

Resident Alien

Cassandra Chandler

Dedication

For Allie S.—a great listener.

Chapter One

“Greetings, my fellow interstellar travelers. This is Brendan Sloan, speaking to you from the little blue marble third from Sol. Without context, that doesn’t give you much of a clue as to where I am, but if you’re advanced enough to pick up this signal, I’m betting you can trace the source.”

Brendan picked up the toy rocket that he kept on his desk and fidgeted with the stabilizers on its base. His stomach was full of butterflies—not the good kind—from his conversation with his sister, Paige.

She had been scheduled for a flight out of Louisiana earlier that day, but ran late at a cleanup site her environmental restoration team was working on. The plane had crashed. No survivors.

He felt terrible for the people who had been on board and for their families. And at the same time, he was grateful beyond measure that his baby sister had been spared. He was still having trouble wrapping his head—and his heart—around the situation.

“I’m keeping it short today, as I have something of a date.” He hoped that Kira was listening. He needed to talk to her immediately—to hear her voice and know that she was okay as well. He spoke his mind, eager to finish the transmission.

“Humans have a need to bond. We bond with a partner, with our friends and family. With comrades-in-arms and comrades-in-ideas. It’s part of what makes us strong as a species and something I hope our cultures will share. And if not, perhaps we can teach each other and grow through our own interactions.”

He set the rocket down in front of a picture of him and Paige. He had his arms around her shoulders and was hugging her tight. Her expression was equal parts amused and annoyed.

They had the same blue eyes and red hair, same smile and scientific curiosity, but what they each added to the world was so different. She fought for the planet, hands on—often from the inside of a hazmat suit. Trying to get people to stop damaging their homeworld.

He worked with the government to create technology that was decades ahead of anything on Earth—tech that was supposed to be used to improve everyone’s lives, but was usually turned into weapons to use against others. Hence his hiatus from his most recent project.

He ran his hands over his face, careful not to knock his headset out of place, then let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair.

“I look up at night and my eyes show me a sky filled with thousands of stars. My instruments let me know there are so many more out there, galaxies full of them in an infinite universe. And my reason tells me this—we cannot be alone. This is my official request to parlay. Please come in peace.”

It was a silly dream and a waste of time—sending transmissions into deep space in the hopes that he might get lucky and reach an alien civilization, maybe hitch a ride and find a more peaceful home. But it kept him distracted from the problems on Earth and how very little he had been able to change anything. Yet.

Time and distance would help him come back to the communications project he was working on refreshed and with new perspective. Maybe he’d even figure out how to use their results to benefit all of humanity instead of only the people he worked for.

And thanks to taking time off, he had met Kira.

Officially, Brendan had been told that Eric was his
liaison
. Eric checked in with Brendan once a month. Their conversations were superficial, but Brendan was sure Eric was under pressure from his superiors to get Brendan back on the project. Eric knew Brendan needed a break and more time to unwind. Brendan was pretty sure that was why they had assigned Kira to be a sort of handler for him. She talked to Brendan every day—pretending to be an alien.

His government sure was going the extra mile to help him recharge and get back on the job. He didn’t want to admit how well it was working. If he knew he’d be working with Kira—that they might meet face-to-face—he’d ditch his lakeside cabin and head back to civilization in a heartbeat.

He wasn’t sure when it had happened or how, but their talks had become the highlight of his day. He thought about her all the time. He even dreamed about her. Maybe today was the day he would tell her how he felt. After Paige’s brush with death, he didn’t want to risk never telling Kira the truth. Even if it made him feel like an idiot.

Falling for his handler was bad enough, but somehow he’d convinced himself that she felt the same way about him. He was probably going to make a royal fool of himself.

He flipped off his transmission, watching the power draw levels drop. Waiting—but never for long. He adjusted his headset and leaned forward.

“Brendan Sloan.” Kira’s voice flowed into his ears, rich and deep and sexy as hell.

He closed his eyes and smiled before responding. “Kira I’m-too-mysterious-for-a-last-name.”

A hint of laughter laced her words when she spoke again. “I thought today’s broadcast was going to be about your theories on the best spots in the Sol system for setting up extra-terrestrial bases.”

“I changed my mind.”

“That’s a shame. I’m looking to build a summer home.”

He let out a laugh. Talking to Kira always made him feel…less alone in the universe.

“For you, only the best,” he said. “Earth all the way.”

“No bias there?”

“Come on. Try to stop and smell the roses on Jupiter, and you get a chest-full of ammonia crystals.”

He was encouraged when she let out a little snort, so he continued.

“Then there’s Mars,” he said, “with its barely-there atmosphere and all those satellites taking pictures. How’s anyone supposed to have any privacy? And robots running around on the surface, poking and prodding everything. I wouldn’t want to live there.”

“Right. Because once robots move in, there goes the neighborhood.”

“They’re up all hours whirring and running around. They pretend they’re collecting samples, but you know they’re just partying.”

She laughed and it about did him in. He wanted to see the face that belonged to that steel-and-brandy voice. He could imagine her sitting across from him on the couch, leaning her elbow on the back of the cushions as they talked long into the night.

“Besides, you don’t need to build a summer house in the Sol system—you’re welcome in my cabin any time. There’s no guest room, but it has a big bed.”

He cringed the moment the words left his lips.
Smooth
.

Still, his mind leapt at the chance to add him to the scenario in a very carnal way. He shifted in his seat.

“And a very comfortable couch,” he said. “Which is where I would be…in that event.”

“It’s a tempting offer, but I’m kind of stuck here.”

“Right.”

Wherever
here
happened to be. Probably a bunker outside of Bethesda.

He imagined her working in a sort of call center for handlers—everyone with headphones on, sitting in their cubicles and listening to their assigned assets while they shot rubber-bands at homemade dartboards.

“You sounded a little tense,” she said.

“Picked up on that, did you?” Of course she did. Nothing seemed to slip past her notice.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, even though he knew she couldn’t see him. “Just had a close call. Too close for comfort. It’s made me think about not taking things for granted. Or letting opportunities pass.”

She was silent, so he went on.

“Look, I know you’re my handler.”

“I have said no such thing.”

“Right. I forgot. You’re an alien.” Because
that
was more likely.

“I’ve never confirmed that, either.”

“Yeah, and you haven’t denied it. When you first responded to my transmission, you wouldn’t tell me how you picked it up and the only people capable of doing that are the ones in the group I work with.”

“Or the advanced alien civilization you’re trying to reach.”

“There you go teasing me again.”

“Sorry.”

He could practically hear the smile in her words. It was contagious.

“I may just be a nerd to you—”

“You’re not
just
anything to me,” she said.

There was heat to her words. That was much worse than teasing him about being an alien. If she didn’t care, why would she get so worked up? Why would she say something like that? He expected her to backpedal, but her tone was still serious when she went on.

“I wasn’t supposed to talk to you,” she said. “I’m just here to listen. But I couldn’t…
not
respond. I had to talk to you, to get to know you. And I don’t regret it. No matter what happens next, I’ll never regret getting to know you.”

His heart picked up. It sounded like she was saying goodbye.

“What’s going on?”

“There have been some changes here,” she said. “Big changes. I don’t know when it will happen, but it’s only a matter of time before I’m removed.” Her voice cracked and she coughed as if she was clearing her throat.

His stomach felt like it had suddenly turned to lead. No daily talks with Kira to look forward to? No one to bounce ridiculous ideas off of and philosophize about society’s ills and strengths?

The loneliness that had plagued him throughout his life started pushing back into his heart. He knew she had been lonely too, before they started talking. He could hear it in her voice. It was part of what bound them together. In all the world—in all the universe—they had found each other. He didn’t want to lose her.

“I’m shocked they haven’t already shut me down,” she said.

His dread increased.

If she was anything like Eric, she’d been trained as a spy—received the full package. Brendan never let himself consider the baggage associated with being a handler. Sure, he considered that she might be using techniques to win his heart and seduce him into a course of action that might not be his own choice, like going back to work early. But hearing her talk about being
shut down
brought other aspects of her role to light. Ugly possibilities.

“Are you safe?”

“Yeah, just in deep trouble. But I don’t care.” Her voice was strong—almost harsh. But it softened as she went on. “Talking to you, getting to know you…has been the greatest experience of my life. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“If your job was to convince me to come back, it worked. Tell them it worked. Tell them whatever they need to—”

“Hang on a second.”

There was a pause when all he heard was the blood rushing through his ears.

“Something’s wrong,” she said. “I have to go.”

“Kira, wait,” he said. “I love you.”

The signal died.

Chapter Two

“
I love you
.”

Kira was already shutting down their com-link as Brendan said the words. She sat stunned, staring at Earth through the main planetary viewport of listening station T5-Alpha.

He loved her?

When he’d started talking about pair-bonding in his transmission, she couldn’t resist the urge to imagine herself in that role with him. But it was a dream. There was no way they could be together—not after she’d broken Coalition protocol by making unauthorized contact. Her future was an eight-by-eight cell—if she was lucky.

A normal soldier would get a mind-wipe and return to duty. Kira was not normal. She couldn’t let anyone find out how very not-normal she was.

Her performance levels were low enough that the genetic engineers who created her considered her a glitch. Thankfully, they decided she was salvageable as long as she was augmented with a nanNet. She couldn’t be wiped unless they removed the network of nanites from her brain first, and if they tried…

Her stomach cramped. If they found out how very wrong she had turned out, they would want to figure out where they made their mistakes. By any means necessary. She had a feeling a cell would be paradise in comparison.

Thinking about it was too much. She needed to focus.

She activated the control-band built into the forearm of her uniform. Her biodata displayed, showing everything within normal parameters. An image of her face rotated in the upper-right corner.

The geneticists had selected brown hair, brown eyes, and skin that looked tanned even though she hadn’t been in direct sunlight…ever. It was really too bad that her levels were so low. At least she
looked
like the Sadirian ambassador they had hoped she would become.

Shaking her head, she dismissed the screen and pointed the station’s scanners at the patch of clouds that held her attention. The vid-screen in the band gave her a magnified view.

There it was again—light reflecting off something metal. Something rising out of the planet’s atmosphere.

General Serath had departed on the
Arbiter
—the lead vessel in the Coalition’s fleet—only hours ago. There were no Coalition-approved spaceships on the planet. The vessel approaching—and she was sure it was approaching—wasn’t following protocol.

Not that anything about this assignment had followed protocol.

The
Arbiter
hadn’t even checked in with her while it was in orbit. If it hadn’t been for the monthly contact with the planetary liaison, she would think she had been forgotten. Observers normally were only assigned a planet for six months. She’d been listening to Earth for two years.

After finding Brendan, she wasn’t eager to be reassigned. That was why she had waited for the
Arbiter
to contact her. When the
Arbiter
left orbit, she was confused but relieved. At least she would have a chance to tell Brendan goodbye. Glancing back at the approaching sliver of light, she wondered if that “goodbye” would be more permanent than she originally anticipated.

“T5-Alpha, I need an ID on the vessel currently approaching the station.”

After a brief delay, the station’s interface sounded through the communications output of her control-band, level and emotionless.

“No vessels are on approach.”

“What?” Kira looked back out the viewport that followed the curve of the small, disc-shaped station. The ship would reach them in minutes. It wasn’t even cloaked.

Wait, the station
was
cloaked. How did they even know where she was?

For a moment, she considered that it was a coincidence. An unknown ship was departing from Earth and just happened to be on a direct collision course for the invisible station.

Unlikely.

“I have visual contact. Scan again.”

The delay was a bit longer, but the interface came back with, “No vessels detected.”

Something had to be wrong with the scanners, but she didn’t have time to run a full diagnostic check. If the station wasn’t detecting a threat, it wouldn’t defend itself—or her. Not without her help.

The approaching ship was close enough that she could make out its shape—a small equilateral triangle getting bigger by the moment. Adrenaline spiked through her system.

“It’s the Tau Ceti!” Kira jumped to her feet and ran toward command, hunching over to stay clear of the low ceilings while shouting orders to the interface. “Raise shields. Send a distress call to the
Arbiter
.”

“Shields inactive. Communications are offline.” The station made the statements casually, as if it wasn’t reciting their death sentences.

“By whose order?”

“Access code 471-PLT-113894—planetary liaison. Earth designation Todd Simms.”

Kira’s fingers were slick with perspiration as she climbed the ladder that led to the upper deck. Coincidence was no longer a possibility.

The
Arbiter’s
communications with the Coalition had been logged with the station while it was in orbit. She knew that the planetary liaison had been taken into custody. What she didn’t know was why his codes hadn’t been stripped or who was using them.

The command deck was the most open and spacious part of the station, with a lowered circular area surrounded by monitors facing its center. One person standing in the middle of the circle could see everything, commanding the station as necessary. Kira ran to the center of the space. A chill swept through her as she looked around.

One by one, the monitors flickered out. The station lights dimmed and she heard systems shutting down all around her.

She was too late.

Her heart pounded as she walked to the viewport that made up one wall of command. The Tau Ceti ship approached at a steady pace, as if they knew her dilemma. They had probably caused it.

Listening stations weren’t built to withstand attacks. Nobody cared about the data she gathered and analyzed except anthropologists and bureaucrats. Her reports probably never made it past the planetary liaison’s desk.

The liaison…who had been taken onto the
Arbiter
right before it sped out of the Sol system. The man who had secured her assignment, convinced her that there wasn’t an oversight when the months turned into years. The one who insisted that her reports go through him instead of directly to the Coalition.

He had come onboard the listening station three times since she’d arrived, to “check in and make sure she was holding up okay”. The last time, he had insisted on doing a systems check.

She ran to the nearest console and keyed in every command she could think of, trying to get a response. Nothing. He must have put in a failsafe—programmed a code that would give the Tau Ceti control even if his standard codes were stripped.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, then blew it out.

Any moment, the Tau Ceti would open fire and destroy the station. They might not even know she was onboard. Except if they were working with the liaison, he would have told them. Wouldn’t he?

With the access they obviously had, if they wanted her dead, they could vent the station or open the airlocks. Her uniform would keep her alive for a few hours, if they didn’t vaporize her.

Life support was still on but the lights were dimmed. Dim lighting would help the Tau Ceti, protecting their sensitive eyes. They must be planning to board the station. What could they want, though? All she had was data, and the liaison could easily have shared all of her reports with them.

Except for the most recent one. They must be looking for something.

Whatever they wanted, she had to stop them from getting it. If she could get to the sun-facing side of the station before they docked, she had a better chance of… What? Taking out as many of them as she could? Hiding for a few extra minutes before they found her?

If it came to that, she would end her own life. The first thing the Tau Ceti did after hatching was cannibalize the rest of their broodmates. They called it their own twist on genetic engineering. “Only the strongest survive.”

They applied the same principle throughout their lives—not just at birth. The strong survived by eating the weak, even if the meal consisted of sentients. The thought turned her stomach.

She wasn’t bloodthirsty by nature, but she had been trained as a soldier. Strategies formed in her mind as the ship loomed closer. She was running out of time.

Countdown
. She smiled as the idea popped into her head. She might even survive.

She wasn’t just a soldier. She was augmented.

She wasn’t just a glitch. She was an aberration.

The liaison knew about the nanites in her brain that enhanced her memory and provided her with a direct link to download her interpretations of what she observed. The nanites made her singularly qualified to be assigned to a listening station. He had probably shared that information with the Tau Ceti. Which meant they knew that she had a constant backup of the station’s data in her head—including the data they were after.

But she was a glitch. Glitches started their lives surprising the geneticists who tried to control their DNA. The engineers who had augmented her would be shocked to know the nanites were more than just an upgrade to her brain. They were her constant companions. Her friends.

The station might not defend her, but her nanites would.

She took a deep breath and held it. This was going to hurt.

Her awareness of them started as a tingling at the base of her skull. It rapidly moved through her brain till it concentrated on her forehead. The station’s systems were locked out to her, but the nanites had a way with machines that she didn’t. She willed them to make the connection.

Searing pain tore through her mind as the nanites powered up and sent their broadcast. Her brain felt hot, her skull practically cooking the skin under her hair. She groaned as she fell forward, hands planted on the console before her. The monitor flickered.

Her command was simple—self-destruct.

In ten minutes, the station would explode in a fiery burst of energy. The cloak generator was in the most protected part of the station so that it would be the last to go. Even if someone happened to be looking in her direction, by the time light could escape the field, the Earthlings would only see a bright flare that quickly winked out. Coalition destruct sequences didn’t leave anything behind except an energy signature.

Because her nanites could convince the station that they were part of its systems, there wouldn’t be any notifications or broadcasts. All she had to do to survive was drag herself to the escape capsules and hope that the chaos of the explosion covered her departure—or that all the Tau Ceti were on board when it happened.

She gave the nanites a few moments to reorganize themselves within her brain, then sent a shut-down command to let them rest. They weren’t intended for that kind of use, and she imagined it taxed them about as much as it did her.

Swallowing was hard. Her mouth was bone-dry. Walking was worse. But she focused on putting one foot in front of the other, wincing as the pain in her head retreated to a dull throbbing ache.

She reached the escape capsule just as she heard the docking clamps engage. The airlocks were a level above. She was in the underbelly of the station.

Heavy footsteps sounded above her, the quiet station suddenly filled with echoing shouts and guttural yells. She waited as long as she dared, hoping to give more of the Tau Ceti time to board the station. She wanted as many to be caught in the explosion as possible. If she was really lucky, their ship would be disabled as well.

The voices were getting closer. She slid into the capsule and programmed the first coordinates that came to her bruised mind. As the capsule detached from the station, she let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes.