Her Resistance: Planet Athion Series (Darkest Skies Book 2)

by Marissa Farrar

  I stepped my legs apart and held out both arms, allowing the man to scan me. Then he used a data pad to take my fingerprints, and finally held it up for a retina scan, all of which I assumed they would use to ID me. He repeated the process with each of the guys. I wondered what would have happened if either me or Aleandro still had the gun. Would they have seen us as a threat and taken us out, just like Agent Faw had done to the man at the gas station? We were living in a zero-tolerance world now.

  He finished up with Aleandro, my security guy dwarfing their security guy, and then straightened. “All clear.”

  Tammy Olsen smiled at me again. “Follow me.”

  I exchanged glances with the guys, and then we fell in together, moving at a fast pace up the south lawn toward the White House. I noted how the men took a protective position around me—one always at the front or back, depending on the situation, while the other two walked on either side. This time Aleandro brought up the rear, allowing me to effectively lead the way after the government officials.

  “I’m sure you understand that time is of the essence,” Olsen said, “so we’re going to get you in to speak with the president right away. She knows you’re coming and is ready for you.”

  “Of course.”

  The White House loomed over us like a towering monolith. I felt like a miniature replica of myself in front of the huge staircase and pillars, and we hadn’t even gotten inside yet. We entered the building, and I clamped my jaw shut to stop from gawping. I’d seen the place on television plenty of times, but being here was a different thing altogether. The government officials didn’t pay any attention to my desire to look around, however, as they continued at a march along a huge corridor with a long red carpet covering the floors. We hurried along behind them.

  Olsen called back over her shoulder, “The president is waiting for you in the Situation Room.”

  We were led toward the West Wing and then down into the basement where the conference room and intelligence management center was located.

  I wished we’d been given some time to change or clean up a little. I was worried I might even have droplets of the man’s blood on my face or clothing, since I’d been standing so close when he’d been killed. But I reminded myself we were coming from the scene of the biggest disaster our world had ever seen, and it wasn’t as though we’d be expected to be looking our best. Besides, I wasn’t going to keep the president waiting just so I could make myself presentable.

  Agent Olsen paused outside the door and knocked before entering. I followed her in, the men close behind me. My stomach churned with nerves as I took in my surroundings.

  The room was equipped with secure, advanced communications equipment so the president could continue to run things, despite the crisis happening outside of these walls. The American flag hung in the corner. Wooden paneling ran around the lower half of the walls, with several large screens placed above.

  A huge mahogany table ran down the center of the room, with black leather chairs positioned around it. At the head of the table sat a woman whose face I knew almost as well as my own, but whom I’d never met in person.

  President Dana Wesley rose to her feet as we entered and greeted us with a smile.

  “Ms. Harran,” President Wesley said, reaching her hand out toward me. “Thank you for coming.”

  I had no idea what the protocol was upon meeting the president, and I had to resist the urge to bow or curtsy. Instead, I returned the handshake, my heart pounding with nerves. Her palm was warm, her handshake firm, and I suddenly worried that mine had been a sweaty, sticky mess.

  “Madam President.” I ducked my head in a nod. “These are my colleagues, Casey Steelman, meteorologist, Mike Fitzgerald, communications, and Aleandro Levy, who is head of security at our Observatory.”

  She took it in turns to shake hands with each of the men, and I watched with amusement while they all flustered a little in her presence, despite her being twenty years older than each of them.

  The president sat back down at her position at the head of the long mahogany table and gestured for each of us to sit. Several other people were already sitting, and she introduced a man in his fifties in an expensive-looking suit, with a thick head of silvery hair as Franklin Bernardo, the National Security Advisor, and a slightly older man again as Drew Lennox, the White House Chief of Staff. Of course, I recognized the names and faces, but seeing them in real life was very different to the television or online news reports.

  The president’s presence was overwhelming. She gave out an air of total control and authority, and even with the current circumstances, was immaculately put together. I felt like a total mess and wished again that I’d had time to change or at least clean up a little. Her ebony skin glowed, and her naturally curly black hair was worn short. Her deep-brown eyes were kind but wise, and highlighted by only a hint of makeup.

  “I appreciate you coming all this way. Tragically, our own Observatory here in D.C. was destroyed during the attack.”

  “I’m so sorry. Was anyone hurt?”

  She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid so. We lost most of the team who were working at the time, and those who weren’t killed were badly injured.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Yes, it is, and it’s the same story all over America and the rest of the world, too.”

  I felt sick to my stomach. That could so easily have been us.

  “We’ll do everything we can to help,” I said.

  “Thank you. I do appreciate everyone pulling together at such a difficult time.” She folded her hands together on top of the table, and her expression became more composed. I knew we were down to business. “I’ve been informed you had Trads inside your Observatory.”

  I nodded. “That’s right. Several of them, we believe. One of them took my best friend. I saw it happen.”

  A frown lined her brow. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now, tell me everything you know about the Trads.”

  I took a breath. “They’re male, young—or at least appearing young to us, I’d say below the age of thirty-five. They’re extremely attractive, to the point of perfection, which may be something we can use to detect them not being human. Humans normally have some kind of flaw—scars or tattoos or birthmarks. Of course, we don’t know what their powers of mimicry are yet, and if they realize we’re able to detect them because they appear too perfect to us, they may well alter how they look to fit in better.” I cleared my throat, and my cheeks heated. I could barely believe I was about to say this in front of the president, but here we were. “I also believe they may give off some kind of pheromone which makes them more attractive to human women. The Trad I was around was almost irresistible. Just seeing him made me want him. I believe this may lower a woman’s inhibitions, and perhaps make her act differently. We may find happily married women suddenly cheating on a beloved spouse, where she normally never would have done, because of the influence the Trads are holding over our hormones.”

  The president nodded. “Which makes all women vulnerable, not just the single ones.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “As long as they’re within a fertile age range, they’ll be susceptible.”

  “What about a woman of that age range who isn’t fertile for whatever reason?”

  “I’m unsure what would happen with naturally sterile women, but I don’t believe our contraception works against them. I’m on a hormonal contraception and was still targeted, but we won’t know more without tests.”

  “I agree, which is why I have some of my best scientists on the case. We’re having one of the captured Trads brought here so we can run tests on him and learn everything we can about them, how we can identify them, and how we can protect ourselves against them.”

  “And you want us involved?” Nerves fluttered inside my stomach at the thought of being around a Trad again.

  “I want all the best minds on this under one roof.
We’re potentially witnessing the end of the human species if we don’t figure this out. It’s not only about the destroyed buildings and people killed by asteroids, as horrific and shocking as all of that is. If we end up in a situation where we either lose a large percentage of human females to the Trads, or if we have to take steps to make women infertile to protect them against abduction, then there won’t be another generation for humanity.”

  The possibility of fertile women being hoarded away for their own protection, and bred from because they were so scarce, flashed into my head. Would that be what would happen if it looked as though the human race was coming to an end? Would women end up as a minority, used only to produce babies until they were no longer old enough? If that happened, we’d be no better than the Trads.

  A chill ran through me at the possibility, and I found myself leaning back, wanting to decrease the distance between myself and the guys. Would my womb one day become more important than what was in my head? And if it did, would these men fight for me, or would they help the government lock me away?

  The president turned to Mike. “It’s my understanding that another of the alternate races made contact with you and alerted you to the presence of the Trads.”

  Mike nodded, his hands clasped on top of the table. He looked out of place with his scruffy clothing and tattoos, but his blue eyes were bright with intelligence.

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, Madam President. A high-serving member from the planet Athion contacted us directly to tell us their suspicions about the Trads. Everything fell into place from what they told us.”

  The president looked to one of her officials. “I want to speak to whoever is in charge on planet Athion, find out what they know.”

  The suited man ducked his head in a nod. “Yes, Madam President.”

  She turned back to us. “The Trad is being transported here as we speak. We have rooms prepared for you here in the White House, so please, make yourselves comfortable. When we’re ready, you’ll be transported to a secret facility where we’ll keep the Trad under lock and key. I have the best scientists working to find out everything we can about them.”

  I nodded, though my stomach roiled at the idea of coming face to face with a Trad again. At least this time the Trad would be locked up and most likely under some kind of sedation—that was if Trads even responded to human medications. There was so much we didn’t yet know.

  I tried not to let my feelings show. “I understand.”

  “Good. We’ll reconvene when we’ve learned more.”

  We all rose from the table.

  Both Agents Faw and Miller had been waiting silently by the door, but they burst into action now the meeting was over.

  “I’ll show you to your rooms,” Miller said, holding open the door for us.

  We’d clearly been dismissed.

  Chapter Five

  We were taken to the staff quarters of the White House. The scale of the building was hard to imagine, and we passed more doors than I could keep count of. The numerous corridors were far quieter than I imagined they would normally have been. Though many of the staff lived on-site, there were plenty who didn’t, and may have been injured or killed during the attack.

  “I’ll get the kitchen staff to bring you something to eat,” Agent Miller said, “though you’re free to eat in the Navy Mess if you’d prefer, which is located on the ground floor of the West Wing. I’m aware you didn’t get anything to eat earlier.”

  No, because your partner was too busy shooting an innocent man.

  “That would be good, thanks.” Casey shot me a warning glare as though he was able to read what was on my mind.

  “Try to get some rest. The president wants you to review some footage from before the strike happened as well.” He directed this at Casey. “But she’s aware you’ve had a long journey, so it can wait an hour or two.”

  “Thanks.”

  Casey might have agreed, but I knew he’d be itching to get a look at that footage. Truth be told, I was, too.

  We’d each been given our own rooms, but we stayed together for the moment, preferring each other’s company to being alone.

  Mike exhaled a sigh and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Wow, that was intense. I never thought I’d end up in the same room as the president. She’s quite something, huh?”

  Casey took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “You can say that again.”

  A knock came at the door, and it opened to reveal a short Hispanic woman carrying a tray. Aleandro rushed to help her, and she smiled at him gratefully as he took it and set it down on a table.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, and she turned and left.

  The tray contained a selection of sandwiches with home fries. My stomach gurgled with hunger. “This looks amazing.”

  The bread was fresh and soft, the filling generous. My teeth sank into the meat and salad, and I almost groaned. It had been hours since we’d last eaten, and I alternated bites of the sandwich with the salty, crispy fries. We might have been in the middle of an alien invasion, but I thought this was probably the best sandwich and fries I’d ever eaten.

  The men dug in as well, and for once there was only silence as we ate, clearing the tray of what we’d been given.

  I regarded the empty plates, suddenly melancholic. “I wonder how much longer this will last.

  “What do you mean?” Casey glanced up at me from behind his glasses.

  I gestured at the now depleted tray. “Fresh bread and meat and vegetables. People are already looting stores. Who are going to be the people to restock them?”

  “The army will have to,” Aleandro said.

  “We still need people making the bread and farming the vegetables,” I pointed out. “People don’t turn up to work when they think their lives are under threat.”

  Mike rubbed my arm, trying to comfort me. “We’ll get things back on track before it comes to that. You saw how organized the president is. She has all the right people working on figuring this out.”

  I hoped he was right, but I couldn’t shake the image of the destruction we’d witnessed on the way over here, or the man being shot at the gas station, out of my head. I didn’t want to drag any of the others down with me, but I had the feeling things were going to get a lot worse before they got better. We’d been sheltered since all of this had started—first at the Observatory, and now here, in the White House—but things were very different for those now trying to get through each day in the new world we’d found ourselves in.

  If we were kicked out of the White House for any reason, and out on the streets, how would we cope then?

  That unease I’d not been able to shake since events back at the store flipped inside my stomach again. If we lost the support of the government for any reason, how would I make it back to my sister, Molly? I’d not had much time to worry on what she was doing back at the Observatory, but I hoped someone would have tried to contact me if there were any problems over there. I made a mental note to see if there was any way I could call them and check in. Sergeant Byrd said he’d watch out for her, and they were keeping an eye out for anyone who might be a Trad now. I was worrying about nothing, I was sure, but I’d still feel better if I was able to talk to her.

  I was thankful none of the guys had berated me for getting sucked into a Trad’s charms. They’d have every right to, considering I’d spent time with each of them intimately. Of course, they didn’t know exactly how far I’d gone with the Trad I’d known as Dean Lambert, but they’d seen me with him, and Mike had even commented that he hadn’t liked him. Now I understood why. It seemed the men were better judges of character than me, or perhaps they simply weren’t influenced by the Trads’ charms—or pheromones—or whatever it was that drove women crazy around them. They could have told me I was an idiot for getting myself in a dangerous situation, but none of them had made me feel bad about myself. Maybe they already felt bad for me because I’d lost Tara to the Trad
s, and they figured I’d already scolded myself enough.

  Mike yawned, stretching his arms up over his head, so his t-shirt lifted to reveal a set of perfectly defined abs and a line of dark hair running down beneath the waistband of his jeans. I got a flash of us together in the locker room back at the Observatory, and heat flooded up from my core.

  “I’m beat,” he said, unaware of my thoughts. “I need to get some rest.”

  “I think we all do,” I said, trying to hide the sudden spurt of desire coursing within me. It seemed it being the end of the world, and being totally exhausted had done nothing to dampen my libido, and not to mention that sex could also mean me being abducted to a different planet and used as a breeding slave.

  I gave a sigh. There was literally no hope for me.

  The rooms had their own small, private bathrooms attached, and each room was connected via adjoining doors—used, I assumed, for when families were staying and needed to be in closer contact with their children. That was fine by us. We all left the adjoining doors open, not needing to ask each other first.

  Everyone made their way into the different rooms, leaving me in the one we’d eaten in. The meal had left me exhausted—I hadn’t slept a full night since this had all started—so I quickly used the bathroom and then collapsed onto the bed.

  I closed my eyes, trying not to see the destruction we’d witnessed on the way here, or Tara’s face the moment she’d realized what was happening to her, seconds before she’d vanished. But the images seemed to be painted onto the back of my eyelids, and I struggled to escape them. I tossed and turned, exhausted but unable to sleep.

  A weight depressed the side of the mattress, and I opened my eyes. Casey was sitting on the edge of the bed, regarding me, his lips twisted. He’d taken off his glasses, and it was strange seeing him without them.

  “Hey,” I said. “Can’t sleep either?”

  “Nah. I heard you shuffling around and figured you were still awake.”

  I reached out and grabbed his hand and pulled him fully onto the bed with me. He climbed on and lay beside me. Automatically, I squashed myself up next to him, putting my head on his chest and lifting my shoulder so he could put his arm around me. Casey was tall and lanky, and gave the impression of being geeky on the outside, but I could feel how lean he was beneath his clothes. He certainly wasn’t skinny.