“The iphal makes friendly fire virtually impossible.”
“Trust me, I’d find a way,” Cara said flatly. “But allow me to change the subject. The colony development panel needs your input.” She explained the impasse they’d reached regarding the occupation program. “I’d like to allow colonists some freedom in choosing their jobs.”
“No.”
The instantaneous response was surprising, and pure instinct had Cara drawing a breath to argue her case.
“Do you require further assistance?” Alona asked, cutting her off.
Cara got the impression she should shut up, so she shook her head.
“Then you may depart at your leisure.”
The defeat brought Cara down a few notches, leaving her more conflicted than ever about colony life. Just when she’d begun to feel the slightest bit of optimism, Alona’s snap judgment had made her doubt the future. It was like emotional whiplash, and Cara didn’t know how much longer she could keep this up.
But she put the defeat behind her and paid a visit to her favorite academic scholar. Cara had a theory about the Wonder Siblings’ blue eyes, and she needed it confirmed. If nothing else, she would leave here knowing the truth about Jaxen and Aisly.
“During the exchange,” Cara said to Larish while relaxing into her plush seat, “Aelyx told me the Elders had gone too far with organized breeding, so they backtracked and began cloning from the archives.” When Larish nodded in confirmation, she continued. “But why didn’t they go way back and clone the ancients? Then they wouldn’t need human DNA to diversify the gene pool.”
“That’s a good question.” Larish sipped the steaming h’ali Cara had brought to butter him up and loosen his tongue. “Genetic material loses its integrity after about two thousand years, even under the ideal storage conditions of the archives. It’s possible to clone from older samples, but not without manipulating the genetic code.”
“Manipulating it?” she echoed. “How?”
Larish set down his mug and tapped the data table that stood between them. An illustration appeared of the double helix structure. He used an index finger to swipe at the chains, forming cracks and breaks in the DNA. “This is what time does to an archived sample in perfect, sub-frozen storage.” With the side of his fist, he took it further, scrubbing out entire rungs of the helix ladder. “And this is what you’d face if you wanted to clone the ancients—assuming you could find their remains.”
“But it could be done?” Cara asked.
“In theory. We could use artificial material to fill in the missing links. But it wouldn’t be a true clone. Odds are, the replicates would be…” He searched for the right word, then settled on the very definition of Jaxen and Aisly. “Different from the original.”
Cara parted her lips in mock fascination, trying to appear innocent. “Different how? Like, could scientists give the replicates special powers and stuff?”
Mind control, for example.
Larish’s countenance brightened and a sly grin curved his mouth. He leaned in, lowering his voice as if to share a secret. “Many years ago, a rumor was circulating that The Way had commissioned just such a project.”
Cara mirrored his position, resting both elbows on her knees and summoning her most trustworthy face. “Really?”
He flashed a palm. “Just hearsay, you understand.”
“Of course.” She gave a solemn nod, silently willing him to spill it.
“Remember the remains taken from the colony?”
“The bodies of the pregnant queen and her consort?”
Larish nodded. “Supposedly, the true reason The Way exhumed the remains was because they’d exhausted their supply of ancient DNA. They transported the bodies here, to the capital’s genetics laboratory. According to rumor, the lead geneticists were instructed to clone the pair and heighten the replicates’ abilities with alien DNA.”
“Aliens?” Cara asked. “Like the Aribol?”
“Maybe. It could have been any species. The Way had uncovered alien genetic material on a primitive blood-crusted weapon, and scientists salvaged just enough usable DNA to fill in the missing genetic code from the ancients.”
“How long ago was this?” she asked.
Larish darted a quick gaze at the ceiling to crunch the numbers. “About twenty years ago, if I’m not mistaken.” Shaking his head, he corrected, “No. I’d just relocated to the new barracks, so it would have been twenty-two years ago.”
Which would make the first alien hybrid twenty-one, like Jaxen. Aelyx was right when he’d said the oldest clones were barely twenty. Jaxen wasn’t a true clone. The geneticists must have used him as a guinea pig before they created Aisly.
“What about the fetus?” Cara asked. “Do you think they tried to clone it?”
Larish waved a dismissive hand. “If they did, I can’t imagine they were successful. The embryonic tissue would have decayed beyond use.”
If that were the case, then Aisly wasn’t Jaxen’s sister. In another life, thousands of years ago, she’d been his queen and the mother of his unborn child. They were probably l’ihans now. Cara recalled the day she’d sat beside Jaxen in his room. When she’d asked about his partner, he had said the girl was his perfect match. It had to be Aisly.
But wait.
What if there were more of these Super Ancients running around? On L’eihr, they’d never stand out if they used cosmetic drops, and on Earth, they’d blend into the blue-eyed population with no more than a trendy haircut and a change of clothes.
“Do you know how many hybrids the labs tried to create?” Cara chilled at the idea of a whole generation of mindbenders loosed upon the galaxy.
“I have no idea.” Larish retrieved his mug and took a leisurely sip. “Assuming the project existed, it would’ve been kept highly classified, which means the lead geneticists would have lived sequestered from the general populace.”
Cara started to ask why, but then the answer came. “Ah. So the scientists didn’t accidentally leak information through Silent Speech.”
“Exactly.” Larish gave her that proud-teacher smile. “You’re very intelligent, Cah-ra.”
She waited for him to add the disclaimer for a human, but he never did. Her heart swelled with pride. “That means a lot coming from you.”
She decided that Larish was pretty awesome—for anyone, not just a L’eihr.
Chapter Eighteen
SATURDAY, APRIL 12
Homeward bound!
Everyone knows there’s no place like home, and if you listen closely, you just might hear the click-click-click of my booted heels as I make like a wizard and fly.
Ever the multitasker, I’m posting from the spaceport while I wait to board the transport to Earth. If all goes according to plan, I’ll arrive at the customs checkpoint in Manhattan within a week, then spend the day catching up with Aelyx before heading to Midtown for a weekend with my family and friends. After that, it’s back to New York for the alliance ceremony. I hope you’ll turn out to celebrate the marriage of our worlds. L’eihrs and humans have a lot to offer each other, and I’d love to see a show of support from my fellow earthlings.
I’m not granting any interviews at this time, but if you see me, make sure to say hello. It should be easy to spot me. I’ll be the one double-fisting Reese’s Cups with a chocolate malt chaser. (Shh…don’t tell my nutrition counselor.)
Posted by Cara Sweeney
Cara waited for her post to upload to the satellite before shutting down her laptop and tucking it inside her shoulder bag. With her blog updated, she stood and scanned the bustling terminal to gauge how much time she had before boarding.
The luggage carts had vanished since she’d sat down to type her post, along with the dozen or so crates bearing the nanotechnology to neutralize Earth’s prolific algae blooms—a long-awaited Happy Alliance Day! gift to mankind. Crew members worked in near-perfect unison to fit passengers with travel bands and haul supplies through the tunnel leading to the car
go hold.
When the metal-grated ramp descended from the boarding corridor, Cara knew it wouldn’t be much longer before her travel band started buzzing. The crew was probably waiting for The Way’s private shuttle to arrive. The head Elders always boarded first, kind of like business-class-elite passengers back home.
That was fine by Cara. Let them go ahead of her. She was in no hurry to entomb herself inside a hotel-size tin can and hurtle through invisible wormholes. Light speed made Cara toss her cookies—or l’arun, as it were.
A flicker of sunlight from the nearest spaceport window caught Cara’s eye, and she strode toward the thick glass pane for one last look at L’eihr. How had three months flown by so quickly? She still remembered the thrill she’d felt when shuttling down, the wonderment of glimpsing this alien world for the first time. She’d been so desperate to capture more of the landscape’s beauty that she hadn’t blinked. It was stunning now, even from a distance—the planet a muted cornflower blue with swirls of caramel and cream.
But the exchange had taught her that beauty wasn’t enough. Cara hadn’t told anyone, but she was 99 percent sure she wasn’t coming back.
Contrary to what she’d once posted on the blog, her important work for the colony was anything but. In truth, Cara had quit trying to make the development panel see reason. The past two weeks had been a constant battle, and when the council refused to budge on the colonist requirements—lest humans “taint L’eihr progeny with inferior genetic material”—she’d issued a silent retreat. Mentally, she was tired: of fighting to preserve her basic human rights, of dodging leaders she’d sworn to obey, of hostile strangers framing her for capital offenses, of pretending it would get better with time.
Cara felt the pull of home like an irresistible force of gravity leading her back to where she belonged. She wanted to be a normal teenager again, to go to college and spend her nights reading and studying and watching Doctor Who reruns. She wanted to eat pizza and wear jeans and openly disagree with her leaders without facing an electric lash.
For the last several months, she’d carried a tremendous burden, slinging the fate of Earth across her back like Atlas—something no seventeen-year-old should have to do. Wasn’t she entitled to a break?
She thought so.
But an invisible weight crushed her chest as she stared out the port window. A life on Earth meant a future without Aelyx, something she couldn’t imagine without tears rushing her vision. Stars blurred into a wet glow, and when she blotted her eyes, a distant smudge of brilliance came into view—the angel nebula, tentacles of pink and violet stretched in triumph over the darkness.
Aelyx’s words rang in her head, so full of hope that it tightened the pressure around her lungs. Every time you see it, I want you to think of me. Soon we’ll stand together and watch the L’eihr sky from our colony. Moisture welled again in Cara’s eyes. Even if she were able to visit him, the life they had envisioned was gone, and the pain of that loss threatened to double her over.
Why couldn’t he stay on Earth for her? Didn’t he love her enough?
The travel band around her wrist buzzed an alert. It was time to board the transport and face the long, nauseating journey home. She swiped beneath her eyes and dried her tears. At least she couldn’t feel any worse.
Cara was eating those words the next morning as she hugged her chamber’s toilet receptacle and dry-heaved for the umpteenth time. She coughed and retched in vain, having long ago emptied the contents of her stomach.
Groaning, she wiped her mouth on her tunic sleeve, cursing herself for not visiting the infirmary yesterday. She had hoped to overcome speed sickness—supposedly, the whole thing was psychological—but to hell with it. Next time she’d ask for an injection the instant she stepped aboard the ship.
Wait.
She froze with her head above the toilet rim. There wouldn’t be a next time, would there? Cara’s stomach turned heavy and sank in a way that had nothing to do with nausea. This was her last voyage. She’d never again explore the wonders beyond Earth’s stratosphere, never catalog her discoveries on the colony or learn what creatures skittered beneath the crashing waves. That was almost as depressing as losing Aelyx.
Almost.
But she couldn’t think about that now, not if she wanted to survive the day. Pushing the dark thoughts from her head, she crawled to the wall, then used it to right herself. Once standing, she made her way into the hallway and hugged the corridor railing until she made it to the infirmary. She didn’t expect to find Jaxen inside waiting for her.
“It took you long enough.” Jaxen smiled, shaking his head at her. “A less stubborn girl would have taken the injection before departure.”
Cara slogged past him and collapsed onto the steely table, grateful to find it pre-warmed. She ignored Jaxen and glanced at the medic, a senior she recognized as one of Elle’s classmates. “Speed sickness,” Cara said in L’eihr. “I’m deyhdr—”
“Oddly, your stubbornness has always appealed to me,” Jaxen interrupted. “It shows mental fortitude.” He turned to the medic and locked eyes with the girl. After a few seconds of Silent Speech, the medic nodded and began gathering supplies.
“What did you tell her?” Cara eyed him suspiciously. Knowing Jaxen, he’d ordered the medic to slip her a roofie.
“Nothing of concern.” He gestured toward the girl, who filled a syringe with milky-colored fluid. “Simply to administer the standard antiemetic drug, followed by electrolytes.”
The medic wasted no time in carrying out Jaxen’s commands. Cara gritted her teeth when the needle pierced her skin, but relief was instantaneous and definitely worth the pain. The roiling inside her stomach stilled, allowing her to drink a vial of syrupy fluid. Within the span of five minutes, she felt human again.
Cara hopped down from the table, keeping hold of the ledge until her legs proved seaworthy. Or rather, spaceworthy. When her knees held firm, she thanked the medic and took a step toward the door, but then her brain spun a double pirouette, forcing her to clutch the wall.
Whoa.
Was it her imagination, or had the floor just tilted thirty degrees? She blinked a few times, and suddenly she was in Jaxen’s arms. He scooped her up like a bride and strode into the hallway as if the ship hadn’t done a reverse barrel roll.
“What just happened?” Cara rested her head against Jaxen’s chest. The act was too intimate for her liking, but her neck muscles had gone slack and left her no choice.
“I also told the medic to administer a sleep aid,” Jaxen confessed as he carried her toward her room. “Clearly, you need rest.”
Oh, God. He had slipped her a roofie!
After all the years she’d waited for the right time to play her v-card, she was going to lose it to a creeper like Jaxen? Hell, no. She tried to scream for help, but all she could manage was a garbled slur.
Think, Cara. Don’t panic!
She closed her eyes for a moment to focus, and when she opened them again, she was lying on her cot with Jaxen kneeling by her side. Panic flashed through her, but a quick inventory revealed her uniform was still intact, all the way down to her boots. She released a sigh of relief. Maybe she’d overreacted.
Jaxen covered her with a blanket and sat on the edge of her mattress. “Sleep well,” he whispered. She felt a pinch at her wrist and glanced down to find a flash of silver and blood. Then Jaxen swiped at the wound with something resembling a fountain pen before tucking it inside his tunic pocket.
What just happened? Had he given her another shot?
Cara didn’t ponder the question much longer. Her twenty-pound eyelids slid shut, and she drifted into a dark, dreamless sleep.
Aelyx used a sweater sleeve to dry his dewy forehead. He hadn’t felt this nervous since his Sh’ovah hearing at age fifteen, when the Aegis panel had debated for an hour before finally deeming him worthy of the sacred rite of passage. Tonight, the cool spring breeze did nothing to halt beads of sweat from forming along his upper lip. Aelyx
scrubbed away the moisture while staring at the shuttle’s hangar door, cast in shadows from the setting sun.
Any minute now…
David stood back ten paces, leaning against the armored car to give Aelyx some room when he greeted Cara. But he shook his head in sympathy and shouted, “Dude, chill. You look like your heart’s about to explode.”
That’s precisely how Aelyx felt.
The week had practically gone in reverse waiting for Cara to arrive. Now she was here—finally—a mere twenty yards away with nothing separating them but the thin metal walls of the hangar. But he didn’t know what to do when she stepped outside. Should he run to meet her and sweep her into his arms? Hold back and give her some space? These past few months, they’d spent more time apart than they’d ever spent together. Cara might need a period of readjustment. But he only had one night with her before the military whisked her away to Midtown, where she’d stay until the alliance ceremony.
And Aelyx had high hopes for tonight.
He brushed back his hair, not yet long enough for a ponytail, and smoothed the wrinkles from his sweater. He’d worn the cream-colored pullover Cara had always liked, paired with the jeans she’d once said made his posterior look “crazy hot.” Ironically, she would be wearing the L’eihr uniform, their roles reversed. He didn’t care if she was dressed in a hemp sack; he simply wanted her near.
The hangar door swung open and a group of passengers filed outside, mostly uniformed soldiers and the shuttle crew. Aelyx’s eyes moved over them until they settled on a cap of braided red hair. He locked on to Cara’s blue gaze, and his heart gave a painful leap. It took all his strength to stand in place and not bolt across the tarmac, knocking down the soldiers in his path like bowling pins.
Cara’s smile was timid, her gaze unsteady as she strode toward him and fidgeted with the strap of her shoulder bag. When she reached him, she stopped just outside his personal space, blushing and clearing her throat.
Aelyx extended his hand and recited the same words he’d used during their introduction last fall. “Cah-ra, your name is the Irish word for friend. I hope you and I will be great friends.” Funny how last year he hadn’t meant it. Now Cara was his whole world.