Invaded (Alienated, #2)(30)

Laughing, Cara released him and used her tunic to blot her eyes. “I’d hate to hurt your game, Casanova.”

“Oh, I got game!”

She shrugged. “You smell gamey, so there’s that.”

He shot her the bird and palmed his keypad. Together, they dragged all his luggage back inside, and then Cara gave him her extra nutrient packet.

“Thanks.” He nodded his approval and yanked her braid. “Dorkus.”

Cara beamed at the insult. She never thought it could sound so sweet. “Any time.”


Inspiration struck that night, and she uploaded a new blog post. She knew Troy wouldn’t read it—he never visited her site—but she didn’t care. She had a message of hope to share with siblings across the universe.





WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 12

Big Brothers: Life Beyond the Wedgie


Unless you’re an only child, you are doubtlessly aware of the varied forms of sibling torture: the noogie, the wet willy, the towel snap, and the ever-maddening “I’m not touching you,” in which a spit-laden index finger is held one millimeter from your nose. Friends, I’m no stranger to a good pantsing. I quit wearing drawstring shorts after my brother tugged down my Umbros in front of the entire youth league soccer team. But I’m here to tell you there is life beyond the swirlie. You may not believe it now, but sibling tormentors actually grow up and even become—dare I say it?—useful!


Nonsense, you say?


Just keep reading.


My brother is a United States Marine. (OOH-RAH!) He joined the service two years ago, and I haven’t seen much of him since. But when he found out the L’eihrs picked me for the exchange, he volunteered to come here and learn the culture so he could serve as my mentor. In the past two weeks, he’s taught me:


? How to change the pitch setting on my translator earpiece so my professors sound like helium-huffing Oompa Loompas. Alien teachers are a lot less intimidating when they’re channeling the Lollipop Guild.

? Which bugs NOT to squash. There’s an insect here whose self-defense mechanism is secreting a stench that makes skunk musk smell like Chanel No. 5. My brother discovered this the hard way when he whacked one in the lobby and the whole Aegis had to be evacuated. He could have let me make the same mistake, but he didn’t.

? That despite years of jackassery, he cares about me. That might sound cheesy, but it’s true. My brother claims he volunteered for this position so he could be the first human to travel at light speed, but I think there was a lot more to it. He’s proven that whether in Midtown or on L’eihr, he won’t let anyone torture his kid sister. Only he gets to do that. And I kind of love him for it.


So to all of you back home, hug your siblings tonight—and not so you can tape “Kick me!” signs to their backs.


Posted by Cara Sweeney





Chapter Nine


Aelyx never expected to become so good at cheating death. As a child, he’d resented his assignment as translator, a seemingly dull occupation. He’d wanted a position in the genetics labs, or perhaps aboard the voyager shuttles, cataloguing new planets and unfamiliar species. He’d craved adventure and discovery. Who would’ve guessed that his job manipulating mere words would result in so many assassination attempts?

The most recent attack had been rather creative. After the bomb squad had swept and secured the building, Aelyx and his pseudo-family had returned to their suite and settled at the dining room table for supper. Syrine had abandoned her interest in cooking—thank gods—so they’d resumed their habit of ordering takeout. She’d just brought a spring roll to her lips when David stopped her and asked who’d ordered the meal.

Syrine had assumed Aelyx placed the order. Aelyx figured it’d been Syrine. The ambassador insisted he hadn’t called for delivery—he didn’t even like Szechuan. David boxed up the dinner and sent it to a government facility, where it’d tested positive for strychnine. Since then, Aelyx had taken it upon himself to learn how to cook.

Again, Stepha had reported the crime to Alona, and again, she’d pardoned the act, citing no harm, no foul. It was as if she didn’t care whether Aelyx lived or died. She’d even gone a step further, insisting they double their efforts to reform his and Syrine’s reputations and endear them to HALO members. Now Aelyx had a government-appointed crisis communications specialist and an image consultant named Blaze.

An image consultant! As if a trendy haircut would fix everything.

But strangest of all, HALO continued to deny responsibility for the attempts on his life. Nothing made sense anymore. It was as if he’d fallen down the rabbit hole in that popular children’s story and landed in an alternate dimension…in which he had an image consultant.

“Damn, I’m good,” Blaze said as she added a dollop of sticky goop to his hair. She had one of those faces that made it impossible to guess her age, but she pinched his cheek like a grandmother. “Of course, it’s not hard making you pretty, is it, hon?”

Gods, kill me now.

“Are we done?” Aelyx gestured toward the living room, where his next interview was set to begin. This time the government had flown Cara’s parents to Kansas City to participate. Or at least that’s where Aelyx thought he was. He tended to lose track these days.