Invaded (Alienated, #2)(2)
It’s Christmas Eve, and if the stars align—not to mention the intergalactic transmissions—you should see this maiden post by morning. It’s an icy absolute zero here in space, but we should arrive at my balmy home away from home by lunchtime.
I have to say, it’s a little weird being one of only two people on this vessel to celebrate Christmas. My new friends think it’s crazy to believe that God’s spirit impregnated a virgin, but they think it’s totally logical to accept that a Sacred Mother birthed six gods and goddesses who created L’eihr from meteor dust and starlight. Because that’s a lot more feasible.
But I digress. L’eihrs celebrate the birth of their deities each spring, but instead of exchanging presents, they fast for two days to bring them closer to the Sacred Mother by way of collective suffering.
Talk about bah humbug!
To all my friends and family back home, guzzle some eggnog for me, and while you’re at it, choke down some fruitcake, too. You’d be surprised how much I miss that stuff…and you. Always you, dear readers.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Posted by Cara Sweeney
No comments had posted, but that didn’t surprise Cara. Sometimes there was a twenty-four-hour delay sending and receiving electronic data from the L’eihr ship stationed above Earth’s atmosphere. Still, that wasn’t too shabby, considering how many galaxies those poor bytes had to travel.
She pushed aside her brother’s laptop and set her com-sphere on the polished cafeteria table, where Mom and Dad would soon join her for Christmas dinner, hologram-style. Her life felt like a futuristic holiday special: A Very Virtual Christmas. If only she could summon some digital decorations for the ship’s sterile, empty dining hall. It was as festive as a death-row prison cell in here—bare gray walls, rows of meticulously parallel metallic tables and benches, dead silence, and nothing illuminating the darkness but the computer’s backlit screen.
At three in the morning, not a creature was stirring, not even a harra, the L’eihr equivalent of a mouse. But instead of nestled all snug in her bed with visions of Reese’s Cups dancing in her head, Cara was running on Midtown time, day versus night, waiting for the “phone” to ring. As she often did during these quiet moments, she wondered what Aelyx might be doing in Manhattan.
It’d only been a week since the L’eihr Elders had sent him back to Earth to help rebuild the alliance, but it felt like a year. Aelyx was the reason she’d left Earth in the first place—so they could build a life together on the L’eihr colony. She never imagined she’d be alone when she glimpsed her new home for the first time.
Well, not literally alone.
Her brother, Troy, was here to serve as a human mentor, but truth be told, he was a real horse’s ass—the kind of guy who would point and laugh at her misery instead of warning her not to touch a flesh-eating alien plant…assuming those existed on L’eihr. She hoped they didn’t.
The sound of dragging footsteps turned her attention to the doorway, where Troy shuffled into view sporting unlaced combat boots and the same rumpled military fatigues he’d worn to bed last night. He yawned loudly, not bothering to cover his mouth, and used both hands simultaneously to scratch his chest and butt.
Yep, that was her mentor. She was so screwed.
“They call yet?” he grumbled, taking the seat across from her.
Cara slid an extra nutrient packet at him. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”
Instead of answering, he rubbed one eye and plucked his offering from the table. He loved those protein bars, though Cara couldn’t understand why. They smelled and tasted exactly like boiled cabbage.
“Merry Christmas,” he said eventually. Then followed it with, “Dorkus.”
Flipping him off didn’t seem very “yuletide gay,” so she rolled her eyes instead. “When are we supposed to shuttle down?”
“Dunno.”
She rested her chin in one hand and sighed.
Their transport had reached the L’eihr solar system hours ago, but for reasons she wasn’t privy to, the Elders had held off on shuttling them planet-side. Cara had a raging case of cabin fever—or starship fever, as it were—and if she had to listen to Troy’s chronic snoring one more night, she’d smother him in his sleep. He’d insisted on bunking with her while Aelyx was on board, because God forbid she got lucky for once, and he’d refused to leave her side ever since.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I hope you don’t think we’re sharing a dorm at the Aegis.” Or on the colony, or wherever they ended up.
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.