Chapter One
MONDAY, DECEMBER 24
I’m Dreaming of a Beige Christmas.
Happy Holidays, earthlings! Welcome to INVADED, your exclusive sneak peek into my one-woman invasion of planet L’eihr. I don’t know how 597,350 of you found my new blog so quickly, but I’m glad you’re here. Pull up a chair, kick off your boots, and grab a steaming mug of h’ali (the closest thing to hot chocolate on this sugar-hating spaceship).
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.
“Merry Christmas!” Mom called, waving from her seat atop Dad’s lap. They had settled on the magnolia-festooned living room sofa, and Dad wore a jolly red sweater that clashed with his orange hair. It was a cornucopia of tackiness, but Cara had never beheld a more beautiful sight.
If she listened closely, she could just make out Bing Crosby’s buttery voice crooning “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” which was kind of ironic, considering. She returned the greeting along with Troy, then held up her nutrition bar. “Did you finish dinner? I thought we could eat together.”
“Oh,” Mom said, “we got takeout from the Szechuan place down the street.” Her cherry lips curved in a smile, but she couldn’t hide the sadness in her voice. “Didn’t seem right, cooking a big meal for just the two of us.”
Cara wilted and tossed aside her packet. “I hate these protein bars anyway.”
“I can barely see you,” Mom said. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
Troy pulled his laptop closer and adjusted the settings to brighten the screen. “They’re pretty frugal with energy here.”
“Good for them,” Dad piped up. “Now lean in so I can get a closer look.” Cara and Troy obeyed, pressing their cheeks together to let Dad scrutinize them. Dad nodded in approval until his gaze settled on Troy. “When’re you going to cut that hair, Rapunzel? I can’t believe your CO lets you wear the uniform when you look like that.”
Troy’s hand darted to the loose black curls—identical to Mom’s—that brushed the tops of his shoulders. His hair was almost long enough to wear in a low ponytail like the L’eihrs did. Wrinkling his brow, he argued, “When in Rome…”
“Get a trim,” Dad said, then turned his attention to Cara. A grin broke out across his face. “Pepper, I can’t get used to the sight of you in that L’eihr getup. You remind me of those little fan girls who wear costumes and dye their skin brown.”
“L’annabes,” Mom supplied with a soft snort.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
Self-consciously, Cara smoothed down the front of her tunic. She couldn’t get used to wearing the uniform, either, or pulling her auburn waves into the same low braid every day. She missed her jeans and scoop-necked sweaters, not to mention her leather riding boots and double-barrel curling iron.
But saving Earth was worth the sacrifice. And so was Aelyx.
Clearly Dad’s thoughts traveled on the same wavelength. “You hear from Aelyx lately?”
“He called a couple days ago,” she said. “He’s staying with the ambassador in Manha—” She cut off as a miniature white ball of fur pattered into the hologram and hopped onto Mom’s lap. It looked like an overgrown hamster. Cara extended a finger. “What’s that?”
Mom cuddled the fluffball against her cheek and made smoochy noises at it. “Say hello to your new baby brother, Linus. He’s a German-Malty-Doodle-Poo.” Then she spoke directly to her furbaby. “Who’s Mommy’s little sweetums? You are! Yes, you are!”
What in the ever-loving hell was a German-Malty-Doodle-Poo?
“We adopted him from the shelter,” Dad explained, not sounding pleased. “I think your mother’s got Empty Nest Syndrome.”
Mom elbowed him in the ribs while Cara exchanged a puzzled glance with Troy.
“But I’m allergic to dogs, remember?” Cara said. “What happens when we come home to visit?”
Mom waved a dismissive hand. “That won’t be for ages.”
“Uh, actually…” Troy began, then stopped to clear his throat. “I’ll be home sooner than I expected. Colonel Rutter’s calling me back to Earth. I got orders yesterday.”
Cara almost sprained her neck whipping around to face him. “What?”
Troy took a defensive tone. “I only came to L’eihr because of the student exchange program, and now they’re saying it’s over. The other two humans won’t come because they’re scared. The Marines want me to report back to—”
“When?” Cara demanded.
He couldn’t meet her gaze. “Two weeks.”
Cara wiped her sweaty palms on her pants. No, this couldn’t be right. The Marines had agreed to station Troy here for two years, until the original exchange students—herself included—returned home. If he left now, she’d be alone. The only human on a planet full of mankind-loathing L’eihrs. She had exaggerated on the blog when she’d referred to her “friends.” Only one clone aboard the transport gave her the time of day, and that was Aelyx’s sister.
Troy was undeniably a horse’s ass, but he was her horse’s ass, and she loved him. There had to be a way to keep him with her. He could go AWOL. What were the Marines going to do, court-martial him from Earth?
“No,” she told him with a firm shake of her head. “You can’t go. The program isn’t over. I’m still here, and…” I need you.
“But that’s the thing,” Troy said. “You’re an official colonist now, not an exchange student. When the year’s over, you’re staying on L’eihr. Like, forever.”
“Pepper,” Mom said tentatively, “if you’re not happy there, you can come home with your brother.”
A light ding! chimed from Troy’s laptop as the incoming electronic data began delivering comments to Cara’s blog post.