“He doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.”
Luke heads off to the training center, and I follow behind him. “You think he’s wrong for feeling that way?”
“He is,” I exclaim peacefully. “I’m not what he thinks I am.”
“Yes, you are, Ky. You are exactly what he thinks you are.” He lifts his gaze to the sky. “Not to make you feel better or give you hope or anything. But Marc likes you. He’s just angry right now. He’ll get over it. Don’t crowd him, leave him alone until he comes to you.”
“I’m caught up in my feelings?” I ask, feeling my attraction increasing into an affection for Marc. I need to talk to him. I need to explain who am—what I am. And the decisions I made that night were to save his brother because he picked me, and I didn’t want to see him suffer through losing his twin.
“You are,” Luke responds. “And you look bad. I told you to stand down, Kylie,” he scolds. “I told you not to take it this far. But no, you wanted to sleep in his room and kiss him and save his damn brother. And he’s as dumb as you are after what he did.”
“Can you not be a jerk about this?”
“Whatever, Ky, I need to follow up with the Creations departing this evening.” Turning around, he heads in the opposite direction. He discards me, as though I’m not worth his attention. I should kick him in the back, but I wouldn’t want to attack him without him expecting it.
I open the door to the training room, remembering I forgot to tell him about the marbles. I can bring it up tonight. Right now may not have been the best time anyway.
“You weak today, Ky?” Gabe asks when I return.
“You all have a lot of fight. I’m never weak.” I stretch my arms over my head. “So who’s next?”
Chapter Four
After dinner, I go to my room, curious to find out more about the marbles. There are no locks on the doors to alert me if someone opens it. I stick my helmet at the edge of the door so I’ll hear it tumble over should someone enter.
Shaking the marbles from the sock, I nervously drop one on the floor. It shatters on impact, splattering its glistening contents onto the hard wood and forming a small circular puddle on the floor. I hover over it, examining the swirling shades of blues and greens daring me to dive into the pit.
There’s a knock on my door. I panic. Racing to the light switch, I turn it off, hoping to hide the pit, but the pool has a faint illumination. There’s a distant whistle, likely from the atom-sized dust particles scraping against each other as the pit swirls in invitation to be teleported to the Vojin’s desired destination.
“Who is it?” I ask with my hand on the knob.
“It’s me,” Luke says.
Phew. I wipe the back of my hand across my forehead. Cracking open the door, I yank him inside the room as I throw my index finger to my lips and look to the floor.
Luke shoves the door closed behind him. “What the…? How did this happen?” His whisper is laced with equal parts annoyance and astonishment.
“A coyote threw up three of these marble look-alikes.” I show him the remaining two. “I dropped one when taking them out. I think they’re calling us.”
Luke’s face contorts, frustration causing his hushed voice to rise in pitch. “There’s no way we can go there while we are here. Not with this stuff lingering around like this waiting for us to come back.”
“I think that’s why they gave us three.”
He rubs behind his ear before pressing the side of his fist to his forehead. “You go. I’ll have to stay around if I’m called. Leave me one in case you don’t come back.”
“I don’t want to go!” I lower my voice to a whisper. “I don’t care about what they want.”
He shrugs. “Well, what then?”
“Tell them to come here,” I suggest. “Through this orb so we can get rid of it.”
Shaking his head, he says, “That’s risky.” Rubbing his neck, he adds, “If someone sees them shining through the window or happen to bust into the room…”
“Luke, the Vojin,” I whisper the name, “should know where they are coming to since this is where those lying aliens are requesting us to come from. If not, whatever they want will have to wait.”
Luke slowly approaches the churning pit, looking it over as though he were peeking over a cliff. Squatting in front of it, he clears his throat and blows green and blue particles past his lips. It flows like smoke from his mouth into the pond. With a quick huff, he rushes the last of it out. A call to our extended kind.
He stands, backing away, and goes over to check the already closed curtain.
“Now, we wait,” I say, walking backward. “And hope no one needs us.” I lean my back against the door.
Two pink lines of particles fluidly flow from the pit. Feet being the first to form, their feminine silhouettes slowly solidify as they take up a spot on the floor before the pit.
“Looks like we won’t have to wait that long,” Luke says in a surly tone, coming back over to me.
Two pink Vojin females stand before us, dark almond-shaped eyes looking us over. “Hi, Lukahn and Kylie,” they whisper in unison.
“You greet us so casually. Is this even important? Here is not a good place for us to speak,” Luke tells them. But it should be obvious, them calling a meeting on the Separation base is the world’s dumbest idea. They must be desperate.
“It is important. We would not have risked our lives coming here if it weren’t.” The female on the left steps a foot forward while her acquaintance rests in the background. Though her face lacks facial features to help me judge her disposition, her worried tone and the stressful way she hugs herself tells me she’s greatly concerned about whatever is so important. Their display of human emotions is only a manipulative technique to better relate to hosts who have been around such gestures for all our lives here on Earth.
I mentally scoff at the thought.
“I am Noranti,” the one who stepped forward says and points behind her. “This is Siona. Luke, Kylie.” She gestures toward us. “Things have taken a turn for the worse back home.”
Back home? That place was never our home. “In what way?” I’m unable to remember what their home looked like the one and only time we visited as children. We’ve always been treated like outsiders, not trusted or looked upon as their own. And I now know it’s because we never were. We’re just red and black checker pieces on their checkerboard.
“As you may be aware, domination over this planet was the original plan. After seeing how the humans live, poisoning this universe with hate, pollution, and selfishness, having the planet cleaned of them would be satisfactory. We saved this land after the invaders destroyed the majority of it, and they’ve made it worse instead of making it better.” Noranti bows her head and rubs her arms up and down. “Treason…” she utters the word in a remorseful tone. “That’s what changed.” Looking back at us, she continues, “Our leaders have been overthrown by the Volones rebels, and we have been instructed to destroy this planet, from the core to the atmosphere. Earth is only the first stop.”
My gaze flicks back and forth from the door, hoping no one walks in on us. I also can’t help eyeing the Vojin behind the other, waiting patiently with her hands at her sides and dark, large, almond-shaped eyes widely looking upon Luke and me. She remains quiet while Noranti does all the talking.
“Over the last few years, many other planets have been taken over by the Vojin,” Noranti says with an edge of fear lacing her tone. She raises her hands, palms up, four fingers splayed out; two center fingers fused together, and what would be the thumb as long as the other three. “When the talk of domination came, many misinterpreted the actual plan.” She walks to us, followed closely by the other. “We were to dominate Earth to enforce a change, to make them a better people and have them live happily among each other. Not to overthrow them.”
“Or turn them all into the walking dead?” I add.
They nod, but only Noranti says, “This is beyond us, and we have
become as bad as what we were set out to change.” Her hands lower. “Our leader has been locked away, and many of us have allied and will go against the Volones, but it will not be before the destruction they plan to initiate against this planet.”
With a lazy drawl, Luke says, “So this is why you’re here. You want us to step in to help you.”
The Vojin’s thin lips press together. She nods, and the nod turns into a headshake as though she’s uncertain of the correct gesture to relay her response. “Right now, we are here to inform. Your parents were a part of our alliance, and when they, alone, tried to take back our home from those who are destroying it, they came here for them. We cannot do this alone. When it is time, you will know. You will gather your fellow Creations and welcome us here using the transports. If we can stand alongside the Creations and whoever else is willing to fight against them, we can save this planet, ours, and others that may be affected in the future.”
“Neither humans nor Creations will ever side with the Vojin.” Luke tightly crosses his arms in front of his puffed-out chest. “You can count your losses now. Let us worry about Earth.”
“Actually,” she raises her first finger. “Whereas the mixed Creations were originally placed here to convince other Creations and Normals into siding with us for domination, instead we are asking that you now convince them to stand with us. All it takes is a simple change in words. With the human qualities you have attained and the relationships you’ve built here on this planet, this should be easy.” The Vojin do not wait for us to respond. Turning back into flowing particles, the two sink into the dissolving pit.
I sigh, throwing my head back.
Luke does the same. “What do you think?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say, voice strained from the stretch of my neck as I peer at the ceiling. I pull my head forward and meet his eyes. “They can’t expect us to do that, just the two of us.”
“They won’t. They’ll probably want us to connect with the others.”
“No one who is mixed will be willing to…admit that,” I say uncomfortably.
“Except you,” he drawls mockingly.
“Luke,” I drone, pursing my lips. “Don’t be an asshole at a time like this.”
Luke heads for the door. “You heard what they said about our Mom and Dad? They were resistance. That’s why they killed them. We’re their legacy, Ky. Our decision is already made. The real matter is whether we will eliminate them.” He taps his throat. “Because let’s be honest, who are we, really?” He leaves, closing the door behind him.
I pack the marbles back in a pair of socks and stuff the socks into the drawer. I pause, hand clutching the knob of the drawer. Luke had opened the door to our parents’ room that day we’d rushed home from our first big win. They’d missed it, and they never missed supporting us. Crowded by four Waulers, Luke and I were surprised by two hiding behind the door. Before our eyes, they beat our parents to death before knocking us out. We woke up days later in the hospital, Trade member Councilman Luckett advising that guardianship over Luke and I was being transferred to our aunt. But now I know that Waulers did not murder our parents, but instead implants, Vojin are responsible. How dare the Vojin ask us for our help? We are our parents’ legacy, and we should avenge them.
I grab my clothes for a shower.
I open my door and see Marc passing. He doesn’t look in my direction. He sees me though. He keeps his shoulders back, spine straight, chest pushed out, arms swaying at his sides, and head held high, facing forward. Not once glancing my way to acknowledge my presence. I wait until he hits the stairs before I enter the hall.
Seeing him makes my breath stutter. A heaviness weighs on my chest, and from my heart, cement pumps through my veins. Marc and I weren’t together. Togetherness or companionship are not gifts Creations are granted. I’ve never wanted this, but I may have wanted something with him. What that something may be... I don’t know. Not yet. But I hope I’ll get the opportunity to figure it out.
On my way to the shower stalls, I pass Fein, Floyd, and Sean sitting in the den laughing and talking loudly. Some dispute they’re having about sourdough bread versus whole wheat bread.
Collins is in one of the stalls singing a familiar song I never learned the name of. I’ve missed out on many luxuries most have reveled in, never concerning myself with music or the little things, though I wish I had. I don’t interrupt her.
Her singing stops once I cut on the shower. “Who is that?” Her high-pitched voice rings over the water patter.
“Ky,” I say, hating that she’s asked. I’m not in a chatting mood.
“Hey Ky. How do you feel about some of the others leaving?”
“It doesn’t bother me.” She thinks she should be picked for everything. “We weren’t supposed to be picked for that. We are supposed to stay here and train our teams for Separation.”
“You all went to Chicago,” she says matter-of-factly, waggling her finger over the stall’s wall.
“We were only gone for a day. Not weeks, like they are going to be gone for now.”
She goes back to her song, louder than she was originally.
Collins can be an acceptable person in passing. Not a friend. She is manipulative and conniving. And she’s heads over heels for my brother. No girl in their right mind should be that crazy over Luke. He doesn’t care about her, and yet, if he offered her a doggy treat, she’d bark and do tricks. I wonder what her feelings are for him. Does anyone else here love? I wonder if I’m the only person who actually cares about someone here other than their twin. We are not supposed to. Luke did. But I’ve never heard another Creation say it. It could be because we aren’t supposed to; those are feelings we keep concealed. Taking away our human emotions, which they should have stripped from us, instead of conditioning us to believe what we should and should not feel.
These feelings are an inconvenience.
I wash my hair, and I’m out before Collins. She takes long showers. Her water has got to be cold.
A folded note lying on my bed catches my eye as I close my bedroom door. I rush to my bed, snatching up the wrinkled, cream-colored paper.
I glance over it.
The words are in cursive, hard to read. The bottom is signed with a fancy T. A T I know well enough to be the Trade. I sit, trying to decipher the minuscule handwriting. I make out the words parents, death, Vojin, and Creations. The word Implanted stands out in all caps. I can make that out clearly—the clearest word in the short paragraph. This isn’t even a full sheet of paper, but a scrap likely torn from an eight by eleven.
Luke is also legible.
I study it longer, trying to put together the puzzle. I wasn’t born for cracking jigsaw puzzles.
…Implanted your parents were put with the Vojin. They were created to…as Creations, they bred to continue their mission to destroy the Vojin. Successful in discovering the Vojin’s plan for destruction…their death after you two were old enough. Luke…untold plan for reconstruction…
T.
I don’t understand. I know how my parents died. The Vojin told me they killed them. But I didn’t know they were implanted into the Vojin. I thought they were Vojin who were implanted into Creations or Breeders, humans. How many roles did my parents play? They were implanted by the Vojin to breed for Separation. But this paper that I assume is from the Trade is saying my parents were also implanted into the Vojin. Which means the Trade must know about Luke’s and my association with the Vojin.
The Trade holds the most power on this planet. They know about everything that goes on in and outside the world, from delegating tasks among the factions, keeping order in the development of Creations, maintaining a level of communication between the countries that’s enough to mitigate but not enough to invoke peace, and they monitor life force outside Earth.
It would make perfect sense if they had a hand in this. They have all the resources. But why? What was the Trade trying to figure out, and why were our parents important
to this plan? Did the Trade know the Vojin would use them as implants and send them to Earth to infiltrate Separation?
I don’t know if I’ll find the answers to these questions, but the Vojin knew, and that has to be why they murdered them. I guess the greater question would be, if the Vojin couldn’t trust my parents, why are they trusting Luke and me?
I knock on Luke’s door, hoping for his help.
A girl snickers, and he shushes her. “Luke, I need to talk to you right now. She can see you later.”
“Ky, wait.”
“No, Luke. Now.”
The door opens, and Luke steps out. “Wassup, Ky?”
I show him the letter. “Look.”
He glances at it. “I can’t read this.” He grumps at me and snatches the paper from my hand. “What is this saying?”
I point to the words as I quietly read the ones I was able to make out. “What do you think that means? Can you try to make out these other words?” I point to scribbled lines that are supposed to be letters.
“Implanted?” he whispers, crossing the floor from his room to mine just across the hall.
I follow behind him. “I get that part. I know what that means. But I don’t understand what it’s trying to tell me.” I close my door after we’re in. “Why is your name on it?”
He sits on my bed. “Luke…” he reads, trying to make out the words. “What is this, a fancy C?” he asks disgruntled. “No, a B. Dammit!” He stomps. “Who wrote this, and why don’t they know how to spell?”
“Calm down, Luke. You’re too loud.”
“This is frustrating. I don’t know what it says. Luke knows…maybe. Luke blows… Luke follows…Ky,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Our parents were implants from the Trade. You think the Trade wrote this? It’s signed with a T.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
He stands. “It’s not enough for us to go by. The words are smudged, we can barely read what it says, and the paper is old and crinkled. Who knows how old it is?”
“What’s more important is where it came from. Who would leave this on my bed, and how do they know about it?”
The Separation Trilogy Box Set: Books 1 -3 Page 32
