Invaded (8 page)

“No,” Aelyx agreed, “it’s not fair.”

Syrine covered her face with both palms. “Nothing makes sense here. I want to go home.”

“I do, too.” He pulled back one of her hands and waited until she looked at him. “But
not until we secure the alliance. Don’t you agree?”

She didn’t say yes, but judging by the way she averted her gaze and hugged her pillow
tightly, Syrine had learned a lesson today. That was enough for Aelyx. He stood to
return to his
supper.

“Wait,” she called as he turned the doorknob. She propped herself up on one elbow
and hesitated to speak. Just when Aelyx thought she might apologize for her behavior
last month, she
sighed and lay back down. “Thanks for the talk.”

Aelyx gave a tight nod. “You would do the same for me.”

“
A
elyx isn’t answering.”

Cara stuffed her com-sphere beneath pillow number nine and resisted the urge to jut
out her bottom lip. She always called Aelyx before he went to bed—it was the only
time they were both
awake and she had a minute to spare. By the time she finished all her classes, extra
duties, and barf-inducing exercises, she’d fall into a coma until morning. Now she
understood why the
L’eihr crime rate was so low. Everyone was too exhausted for shenanigans.

The top bunk shifted above Cara’s head, and Elle’s dainty four-toed feet dangled into
view. After a long yawn, she said, “Perhaps his sphere is malfunctioning. It happens
sometimes. I’ve had mine refurbished twice.”

“I could try reaching him on Syrine’s sphere, but she’d probably chuck it out the
window before taking a call from me.” Cara caught herself rubbing her cheek, where
Syrine had once slapped her.

“I’m no help to you there.” Elle hopped to the floor and joined Cara on the bottom
bunk, where she sat cross-legged, her loose hair spilling over both shoulders. She
looked so
human first thing in the morning. “She hasn’t spoken to me since Eron asked me to
be his
l’ihan
.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Cara had forgotten the two were once besties. “You loved the same
boy.” Few friendships could withstand the dreaded BFF love triangle. Cara knew
firsthand. “My best friend started dating my ex as soon as we broke up. They snuck
around behind my back for weeks and made me feel like an idiot. We’re speaking again,
but it’s
not the same.”

“Friendships evolve,” Elle said clinically. “And often fade. It’s the natural order
of things.” And just like that, their girl-talk ended. “Let’s get to
work. We don’t have long.”

Cara groaned. She didn’t want to practice Silent Speech anymore. What was the point?
Her mind was physiologically different from the L’eihrs, so she’d probably never master
the
art.

“Are you getting headaches again?” Elle asked.

“No, but between this and my classes, I go to bed each night feeling like I’ve given
birth from my brain.”

“Think of your mind as a muscle,” Elle lectured. “It will—”

“Grow stronger with use,” Cara parroted. Since resistance was futile, she might as
well cooperate. “Okay. Same drill as before?”

“No. Let’s try something new.” Elle shook back her hair and leaned forward to meet
Cara’s gaze. “Show me how you feel, then use your words to tell me what
we’re having for breakfast.”

Cara completed her first task in less than a minute. She noticed it didn’t take as
long as it had last week to channel her frustration into Elle’s mind. In that respect,
she’d
improved. But when she tried to say
t’ahinni
, Elle heard nothing.

“Don’t be discouraged,” Elle said. “You’re making progress. I understand your emotions
more clearly than before. You feel defeated, but also curious.” Her
forehead wrinkled in thought. “And you’re suspicious, but I don’t know why or of whom.”

Cara lowered her voice to a whisper. “Something’s been bugging me. You know that meteorite
everyone’s been talking about—the one that crashed my
Sh’ovah
?”

“What of it?”

“It wasn’t a rock. I’m pretty sure it was man-made.” Aside from Cara, no one had caught
a glimpse of the object. “I saw metal and lights, then Jaxen covered it with
his cloak.”

Elle considered for a moment. “I’ve observed reflective matter in space debris, some
of it metallic. Could that explain what you saw—sunlight glinting off the mineral
deposits?”

“I don’t think so.” But Cara couldn’t be certain, and that’s what drove her crazy.
“Why would Jaxen bother to hide a worthless chunk of rock?”

Elle’s troubled expression showed she agreed, though she didn’t say so. “Can you summon
the image and share it with me?”

In theory, that was a great idea. In practice, however…“I’ve never tried that.”

“The process is similar to sharing emotions. Close your eyes and form a picture in
your mind. Wait until it’s clear before you connect with me.”

Cara did exactly as her roommate instructed, but it didn’t work. No surprise there.
If she wanted answers, it seemed she’d have to find them herself. No surprise there,
either.

“
Cah
-ra Sweeney.”

At the sound of her name, Cara glanced up from her tablet at the science teacher who
stood at the front of the classroom glaring at her. He’d spent the last thirty minutes
speaking
L’eihr, so she’d decided to catch up on a few chapters of history—clearly a mistake.

She set her tablet in her lap. “Yes, Instructor Helm?”

“You just missed my demonstration of
h’ylo
reproduction.” He shook a fuzzy brown thing at her that looked like a rotten kiwi.
“What captivating topic has lured
you away from my lecture?”

Jaxen and Aisly, along with every other student on the long wooden bench in front
of Cara, turned to study her. Most of them couldn’t speak English, but Helm’s disapproving
tone must
have said enough to pique their interests. Dahla seemed especially pleased as she
smirked from her assistant’s place beside the instructor.

Cara wiped both palms on her tunic. Truthfully, she’d been reading her favorite thesis,
a brand-new one that argued L’eihrs were the descendants of humans, not the other
way around.
If you asked her, the evidence was compelling. The only reason L’eihrs clung to the
original legend was because they’d rather amputate all eight toes than trace their
lineage to
Earth.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It was an essay.”

“On?” Helm demanded, gripping his waist with one hand.

Cara glanced at her tablet and read aloud, “‘The Primate Connection: A Thesis—’”

“‘Regarding L’eihr Lineage,’” Helm finished. “Written by a scholar named Larish. He
argued that L’eihrs are related to your ancients, who in turn
evolved from animals.”

“Exactly,” Cara said. “Humans and L’eihrs share ninety-eight percent of their DNA
with chimpanzees. Earth scientists believe we all descended from a single ancestor
and
developed differently over millions of years. But on L’eihr, you have no close primates.
It’s as if you were dropped here by an alien race. You evolved differently from humans,
but
that’s mostly due to organized breeding and—”

“A fascinating theory,” Helm interrupted. A tiny muscle twitched in his jaw. “Are
you in humanities class now?”

Cara cleared her throat. “No, sir.”

“And will Larish’s dissertation help you with my exam tomorrow?” He pointed to his
white-rimmed instructor tablet, where he kept his lectures and testing materials.

“No, sir.”

“Then perhaps you should make use of your translator and focus on the subject at hand.”

Cara nodded, willing herself invisible.

But understanding the language didn’t help her absorb Helm’s lesson. His words—
genetic port
,
reverse micro-sequencing
,
inverted
bioethnicity
—had no context for her. It was like trying to decipher gibberish. Cara hated to admit
it, but she didn’t belong in this class. She needed to take a massive step back
and master the prerequisites of L’eihr science. Too bad she’d have to join the preschoolers
to do that.

An idea came to mind.

Maybe she should request a rotation working in the Aegis nursery. She’d pick up some
basic concepts that way, and besides, she felt sorry for all those motherless kids,
taken straight from
the artificial wombs to a quasi-orphanage. They were so darned cute, and she wanted
to snuggle the toddlers when their caretakers weren’t looking.

After class, she jogged to the headmaster’s office to fill out a rotation request
and then double-timed it to the novice obstacle course, relieved to discover she’d
made it there
before the fitness instructor. The man had a name, but Cara preferred to think of
him as Satan. He loved making her suffer.
Pain is good
, he’d told her.
If no hurt, you do it
wrongly.
Satan didn’t speak very good English, but he was fluent in whoop-ass. He wore his
ponytail extra tight and probably flogged himself for fun.

“Sw
eeeee
ney.”

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear…from behind a climbing wall. She hadn’t beaten
him here. Fabulous. That meant an extra lap. At least no one would be around to watch
her stumble
over the balance stones and yack in the bushes. The other clones had long ago graduated
to proficient courses.

“Today we try new technique,” he said, rubbing his massive palms together. “Make you
win time and move to intermediate course.” He patted his tunic pocket. “I
fasten
t’alar
on your shoulders. Make you fast.”

Unless he had a jet pack in there, she didn’t see how that was possible. “Is the
t’alar
an antigravity device?”

“No.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a simple black strap. Then he smiled in
a way she didn’t like at all. “Is
motivation
.”

That didn’t sound good.

“Human lung,” he continued, “it hold less air, yes? But still the body do great things
when provoked.” He lumbered over to her and snapped the
t’alar
across her shoulders like a handgun holster. “You run course, and I watch from above.”
He pointed to a small platform built into the trees. “To keep time. When you need
boost, I
do this.” Then he clapped his hands loud enough to make her jump.

At first, Cara didn’t understand. But when a jolt of electricity ricocheted down the
length of her spine, she yelped and nearly wet herself. The
t’alar
was a torture device?
Holy crap, he really was the devil! “You’re going to make me run faster by
shocking
me?”

Satan shrugged. “Eh, we try.” Without giving her a chance to reason with him, he pointed
at the climbing wall. “Now begin,” and he followed with a
clap
.

Zzzttt!

Another sharp current shot through Cara, and she lurched toward the wall like a marionette
that’d had her strings pulled too hard. “Oh my God,” she whimpered as she grabbed
the
first hold. “This is so messed up.” But she didn’t stop. After reaching the top, she
scaled down the other side and set off at a sprint the instant her feet touched solid
ground.

The balance stones came next—two dozen round slabs set one stride apart in zigzag
fashion, each designed to tilt thirty degrees in all directions. She leaped onto the
first stone with her
right foot, crouching low to distribute her weight, then immediately jumped to the
second and third. With each rapid leap to and fro, she made her thighs do all the
work and kept her arms extended
for balance. She didn’t hesitate or second-guess herself like before. She cleared
her mind and let her body take the wheel. Before she knew it, she’d reached the last
stone and jogged
around the bend toward the impact bags.

Zzzttt!

Correction: she
sprinted
around the bend toward the impact bags, veering left when the first body-shaped target
came into view. With a savage war cry, she tensed her shoulder and
collided with the sack. The force of the blow knocked aside her target, and Cara dodged
to the right before it had a chance to bounce back. This was her favorite part of
the course. She pictured
each target as a sneering professor or a haughty clone, knocking the snot out of each
one until her anger dissolved. When she reached the last bag, she hit it extra hard
in honor of Satan. He must
have known, because he zapped her again.

She squeaked in pain and felt a sudden burst of energy—just enough to propel her into
a run and carry her through the mile-long endurance track. After that, she breezed
over the hurdles
and approached the final obstacle: the cord maze, also known as the tangler. She barely
had the strength to lift her head, let alone grip the overhead ropes and maneuver
her way, monkey-bar-style,
to the other side. She stood with her boots rooted to the ground, staring at the finish
line in the distance.

So close, yet so far away…

Zzzttt!

Stifling a sob, Cara jumped up and grabbed the thick cord with both hands. She pumped
her feet to create momentum, then swung forward to grip the next section of rope.
Though the material was
coated for maximum traction, she felt her fingers slipping with fatigue. But each
time she slowed, a jolt of electricity stirred her adrenaline. She forced herself
onward, drawing on power she
didn’t know she possessed, until she reached the other side.

She wasted no time in barreling toward the finish line, head down, muscles burning,
heart pounding as she drove her legs harder and faster. When she crossed the threshold,
she heard Satan yell,
“Sw
eeeee
ney! You make most excellent time—top twenty in whole Aegis!”

Cara bent at the waist and gripped her knees, fighting for breath. Her stomach heaved,
and she lost her breakfast in the bushes. But damn if she didn’t feel like a rock
star.

Satan climbed down from the tree and removed her
t’alar
harness, then gave her a hearty smack on the back. “Eat plenty
l’ina
,” he said with pride.
“And make much rest. Tomorrow we meet at intermediate course.”