He pocketed his scanner, and the pair strode forward.
“Stop.” Cara lifted both palms. “That’s far enough.”
Jaxen took another step. “I thought we were going to trust each other.”
Cara jutted her chin at the clone. “She’s got a mean right hook, and it’ll be hard to pretend I was never here if I go home with another black eye.”
“Fair enough.”
Rune stuck out her bottom lip, which looked oddly childish on her thirty-year-old face. “I can’t understand what you’re saying,” she whined in L’eihr.
“It’s nothing, my darling,” he told her. “She’s afraid of you, that’s all.”
While Rune gloated with a triumphant smile, Cara turned her attention to Jaxen. “There’s something wrong with her, isn’t there? She’s aging too fast. A few days ago, she and I could’ve passed for twins, but now—”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he interrupted. But in contrast to his words, his gaze faltered and his voice grew terse. “Now tell me what you’d like to discuss.”
“The Aribol,” Cara said. “What do they really want from us?”
“You’re a smart girl, Cah-ra. What do you think they want?”
“Control.”
“See? You don’t need me for this.”
“But why are they threatened by the alliance? If the Aribol are as powerful as they claim, they shouldn’t care about humans and L’eihrs teaming up to share our resources.”
Jaxen quirked his head as if upset by something she’d said. “If the Aribol are as powerful as they claim? I assure you they’re more powerful than you have the ability to fathom.” He picked up a handful of dried foliage and threw it into the air. As the debris spiraled to the forest floor, he explained, “You and I are leaves at the mercy of the wind … and the Aribol are a tornado, capable of scattering us into oblivion.”
Chills raised on Cara’s arms.
“Would you like to know how it will happen?” he asked. “How they will destroy your world, if it comes to that?” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “It will start with a global blackout—not simply of the electrical grid. Anything powered by generators or batteries will cease to operate. Humans will be trapped in their communities, helpless to resist, with nothing to do but wait for the fleet to arrive.”
“The fleet?” Cara whispered.
“Yes, small ships that deliver concentrated shockwave pulses to liquefy soft tissue, like organs and skin and eyes. People will simply melt to the ground in a puddle of flesh and bones.”
He painted a vivid picture, one that stopped Cara’s breath.
“It may seem macabre,” Jaxen went on, “but the Aribol won’t harm the planet itself with radiation or fissionable explosives. Despite the vastness of the universe, worlds that support our kind are in short supply. They’ll cleanse the Earth of mankind and start over, seeding a new, more compliant race in your place.”
What he described was too horrible to process. A cosmic do-over at the expense of billions of lives? The Aribol couldn’t be that cold … could they?
“If any humans survive the initial attack, the Aribol will simply don their suits and find them during a ground invasion.”
“Suits?” Cara repeated. “Why would they need suits?”
“Irrelevant,” Jaxen dismissed. “The point is there will be nowhere to hide. They have the means to dispose of the bodies as well—microscopic nanites that transform organic remains into carbon and then die, so as not to affect the ecosystem for the following society.” He wrinkled his nose. “I’ve seen the nanites used on the Aribols’ home world. It’s an efficient process, though unpleasant to watch.”
Cara imagined tiny organisms rendering bodies into dust. Was that how the Aribol would dispose of Jake and the other members of the Voyager crew? She caught herself shaking her head. She didn’t want to believe it. “But I thought …”
“What?” Jaxen interrupted. “That there was hope? No, Cah-ra. While I usually admire your tenacity, in this case it will lead to your downfall.”
But there were still unanswered questions, things that didn’t make sense. “What about the phosphorus mines and the fertilizer plants? If Zane sent you here to pave the way for an invasion, why haven’t you targeted our armories?”
“Because there’s no reason to. You’ve seen what my Nova Staff can do. Now imagine that technology on a larger scale. There’s no weapon on Earth or on L’eihr that can penetrate the hull of an Aribol Destroyer. Your only hope is to pray you never see one.”
“You didn’t answer my first question.”
At that, Jaxen’s lips curled in a sly smile. He advanced a pace. “You didn’t offer me anything in exchange for the answers I’ve already provided. That’s rather rude, isn’t it?”
Cara swallowed a lump and stood her ground. “Stay back.”
He took another step and paused while Rune peered up at him as if to gauge his intentions. The clone glanced back and forth between Jaxen and Cara, the wheels clearly turning in her mind. Then her gaze turned frosty in a way Cara recognized from firsthand experience.
Rune was jealous.
“What do you want from her?” Rune demanded of Jaxen. “Why do you allow this girl to live when she’s an inferior copy of me? Kill her, and let’s leave this place.”
Jaxen’s whole face transformed in rapture. “You see?” he told Cara while gazing at the clone and cupping her cheek in one hand. “Such passion. She’s a gift to me, everything I could ever want in a l’ihan.”
Cara didn’t know who he was trying harder to convince—her or himself. As he bent to kiss his lab-made partner, Cara said, “Too bad she’ll be dead soon.”
Jaxen froze with his brows pinched together.
“How long do you expect her to last when she’s aging a decade every other day?” As Cara spoke, something else occurred to her. Rune was young and only knew the things Jaxen had taught her. The clone might think her rapid aging was normal. “Have you told her what’s wrong? Does she realize what’s happening to her body?”
Rune, who could obviously see the exchange had upset her master, spun on Cara and raised a threatening fist. “Shut your filthy mouth, or I’ll shut it for you.”
Ignoring her, Cara extended a wrist to Jaxen. “Is this the prize you want in exchange for your answers? More of my blood, so you can make a second copy of me when this one expires? Or a third? How many innocent clones are you willing to kill before you realize I can’t be replaced?”
In that moment, she knew she’d pushed him too far. Jaxen’s eyes turned to slits and his nostrils flared. “Perhaps I was wrong,” he growled, stalking forward. “I believe the universe will do perfectly well without you in it.”
Cara’s heart hammered, but she stood in place and tucked both hands behind her back. She reached into her pocket and retrieved the syringe she’d hidden there earlier. As Jaxen closed the distance between them with murder burning in his gaze, she placed her thumb on the plunger and held still, listening to the sound of his boots crunching over dead leaves.
When he reached her, he stretched a hand toward her throat. But instead of connecting with flesh and bone, his hand passed through her and struck tree bark. He blinked in confusion. Before he had time to realize he’d been talking to a magnified hologram, Cara darted out from behind the tree and plunged her needle into the side of his neck, flooding his veins with enough sedatives to drop an elephant.
She didn’t wait to see him fall.
While Rune screamed and rushed to Jaxen’s aid, Cara sprinted to the shuttle and prayed that it still recognized her handprint. The keypad responded to her touch, and the pilot side door opened. She jumped inside and started the engine, then lifted off the ground before her door had fully closed. With Jaxen and Rune beneath her, she turned the craft west and piloted it to the safe house lawn.
Judging by the chaos in the backyard when she arrived, her absence had been noticed. Floodlights cut wide paths across the lawn and il
luminated her entire family and half a dozen soldiers, each with an assault rifle trained on the shuttle. She knew the bullets wouldn’t pierce the hull, but she couldn’t say the same about the windows, so she used her com-sphere to contact Aelyx and tell him she was alone inside the craft.
After landing, she exited to the clamor of shouts and accusations. The words blended together and drifted to her mind’s periphery, but she couldn’t escape the look of disappointment on the faces of everyone she loved. Aelyx, especially. He was so furious he could only stare at her boot tips while his throat worked visibly to form words that wouldn’t come. Cara held up both hands in surrender and started to apologize, but just when her mouth opened, she closed it again as her spirits sank.
Jaxen’s warning chose that exact moment to hit home.
She’d tried telling herself he was wrong about the Aribol, but deep down, she knew better. A slow sensation of despair settled around her, blanketing her shoulders in a weight so heavy it rounded her posture. There was no hope, no grand scheme to outwit the enemy. The only thing left to do was surrender the last Voyager ship and pray that Jaxen wasn’t angry enough to tell Zane about the group of L’eihrs hiding on Earth.
But after tonight, that was probably what he’d do.
Her breath hitched and her vision blurred. Through a veil of tears, she noticed Aelyx watching her. Concern softened the angle of his brow, and he asked if she was all right.
“No,” she told him in a hollow voice. “I was wrong about everything. We can’t stop them. We should’ve done what Zane told us from the very beginning. I kept pushing everyone to fight back. Now I think it’s too late.”
She covered her face, but she couldn’t stop images from filling her head, flashes of the extinction she’d brought upon her people. Now she knew how the world would end: not with a bang or a whimper, but in puddles of flesh.
Later that night, when her throat was raw and she’d cried herself dry, Cara showered and plaited her hair in a low braid. She dressed in a L’eihr uniform she’d found in one of the bedroom drawers and steeled herself for what she had to do next.
Break the news to Alona.
“I believe he’s telling the truth,” she said to Alona, after relaying the details of her conversation with Jaxen. She sat on her bedroom floor beside Aelyx, resting her head on his shoulder while he held her hand. She’d requested permission for him to join the meeting so she wouldn’t have to tell her story twice. Once was painful enough. “We went back and looked for Jaxen, but he was gone. I don’t know if he’ll keep our secret anymore. I think we should tell Zane about the Voyager ship and do what he says.”
“Agreed.” Alona drew a long breath. “I wish we’d spoken before you sought out Jaxen alone. You don’t know the danger you were in. A few hours ago I received a response to my inquiry regarding the hybrids in captivity.”
Cara had almost forgotten about that. “Are they acting strangely, too?”
“Yes, but the changes were subtle. My inquiry prompted their caretakers to perform a medical scan. They found abnormal tissue growths in the hybrids’ bodies and brains. It seems the DNA used in their creation was too old to be properly repaired. The growths are quite small at this stage, but because Jaxen is older than the others, his tumors have likely grown large enough to impact his cognitive function.”
No wonder his behavior was so erratic. If Cara had known, she never would have engaged him. She paused to swallow a marble of emotion. “I’m sorry. I should have listened to you and sent the L’eihrs home on the transport.”
Alona dismissed the apology with a wave. “The responsibility rests with me. I will contact Zane and—” A high-pitched whine interrupted her, the same alert Zane had used during their first conference call on L’eihr. “Let me do the talking,” Alona told Cara. Then her eyes shifted to Aelyx, who wasn’t supposed to be on Earth. “Send your l’ihan out of the room.”
Aelyx quickly made his way into the hall. As soon as the door closed behind him, Alona accepted the incoming transmission.
Zane’s image appeared. “Greetings, children.”
“Also to you,” Alona said. “In keeping with your demands, I can now account for the missing Voyager craft.”
“The craft is no longer the issue,” Zane told her. His digitized voice sounded heavier than usual—sad, if such a thing were possible. “Both of you have conspired to subvert our terms. At least four L’eihr citizens remain on Earth in direct violation of our command to segregate your kind.”
Cara clenched a fist. Jaxen had tattled faster than she’d expected.
“Therefore a Destroyer has been dispatched to each of your worlds. The ships were already in stasis nearby, so they will arrive soon.” Zane paused. “Please know this gives me no pleasure. I have enjoyed watching your societies develop over the millennia. I’d hoped you could be saved.”
“I’ve not yet disposed of the intergalactic transport,” Alona said. “I’ll return it to Earth at once to retrieve my citizens.”
“I’m afraid the time for that is past.”
“Please,” Cara begged. “Give us one more chance.”
Zane’s façade swiveled to look at her. “I wish I could, but the decision is not mine. Much like you, I am a representative of my race.”
“But this is my fault. Most humans don’t know what’s happening. They would’ve obeyed your orders if I’d given them a choice. Tell your leaders to punish me. I’m the problem.”
Zane tilted his face in what appeared to be a sympathetic gesture. “No, you are not the problem, young human, and the decision will not be reversed. Typically I provide no advance warning of neutralization, but in this case it gives me solace to allow you to prepare yourself for death. When the end comes, I hope you will be at peace.”
“How long?” Cara asked.
“One solar day. Perhaps two.”
“Is there anything we can do? Anything at all?”
Silence was his only answer.
An odd sense of calm settled over her, and Cara folded both hands in her lap. “Then I have a request. When I’m gone, don’t clone me again. I know Jaxen will ask you to, but I don’t want him to have any part of me, even if it’s a reproduction.”
“I will present your request for consideration,” Zane replied. Then he told her something he’d never said before. “Goodbye.”
His image vanished.
Cara and Alona remained, but for a while, neither of them spoke. They stared into the empty space between their holograms until Alona lifted her chin and broke the silence.
“Well, as the Aribol have resolved to terminate us, and nothing I say or do can worsen the outcome, I see no reason to destroy the remaining transport. I will give the evacuation order and fit as many of my people on board as I can. We’ll depart before daybreak and travel until we deplete our fuel reserves.”
Cara thought that was wise. Even if the Aribol caught up with the transport, dying in space was no worse than dying planet-side. “Good luck.”
“I wish you were here so I could take you with me.”
That made Cara tear up. After all the mistakes she’d made, Alona still wanted her there. She wiped her eyes. “What about the Voyagers? They should know the truth. They have more than enough fuel to go back to that planet of humanoids. Maybe they can live there.”
“Yes, I agree. If the planet were closer to L’eihr, I would do the same. Will you inform the commander on my behalf? I’ll be busy overseeing the evacuation. Tell him he has permission to do as he pleases.”
“I will.” Cara knew Alona had to go, so she didn’t drag out their final goodbye. “Thank you for welcoming me into your world and making me one of your own. It’s been my honor to serve as your Chief Human Consultant.”
“The privilege has been mine, Miss Sweeney.” Alona extended two fingers toward Cara’s throat in a L’eihr greeting that also served as a farewell. “May the Sacred Mother be with you until we meet again by Her side.”
Cara lifted two
fingers in return, and the transmission ended.
In the silence, she cradled her dormant com-sphere and thought back to the colony apartment she’d shared with Aelyx, how she’d resisted the impulse to bring her seashell collection with her as a souvenir of home. Leaving the shells behind had been an act of faith, certainty of her return to the blissful life she’d made there for herself. She’d fought so hard to protect that future, and in doing so, she’d lost it all—for everyone.
Zane was a fool if he thought she would ever make peace with that.
Chapter Fifteen
Someone had found a bottle of brandy hidden behind the cooking oil in the pantry. Since then, that bottle had made a dozen passes around the living room, where the group sat in front of a crackling fireplace, chilled despite the summer heat. The brandy came to Aelyx again, and he took a swig. The amber liquid went down as smoothly as broken glass, but each mouthful softened the edges of his fear. He offered the bottle to Cara, who was curled up on his lap with her cheek nestled against his chest. She shook her head, so he handed it to her brother.
“There’s only one logical thing to do,” Troy said, and paused to take a long drink. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and passed the bottle to his parents. “The same thing they’re doing on L’eihr. We cram as many people as we can into our shuttles, and we make a run for it.”
“That reminds me.” Larish raised an index finger and hiccupped. “I removed the cables from both crafts and hid them under my bed, so Jaxen can’t steal either of them. If the human race dies, he should stay here and share their fate.”
Bill Sweeney clapped Larish on the shoulder and offered him the brandy. “Good man. I like the way you think.”
Elle and Syrine sat on the hearthrug in front of the fire. They shared a somber glance with Aelyx, and he knew they were all thinking the same thing. Shuttles were built for short-range travel, not intergalactic journeys. The passengers would die long before reaching the nearest inhabitable planet.
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