Alien Penetration

by Kaitlyn O’Connor

  “Camryn!”

  It was Kael’s voice and the urgency in it jumpstarted Camryn’s heart.

  “Kael?”

  “We’re coming your way and we’ve got about a fucking battalion of skeets on our heels!”

  Camryn tensed instantly and moved away from the boulder. “Incoming!” he bellowed, not bothering with the nearly useless communicators. “On your three! Take your positions!”

  Waiting until he saw the men scatter and flatten themselves on the ground, he scanned the landscape for cover for himself and discovered the miners, apparently, hadn’t even heard him. “Take cover, you fucking morons!” he roared at them.

  The miners stopped and gaped at him. Waving an arm at them, he bounded toward the rocky ledge where most of the other men had lined up and propped their weapons. “We’ve got men in front! Hold your fire until they’re in!”

  Kael, he discovered, hadn’t been exaggerating. There was a full battalion of skeets racing behind Kael’s scouting party, screaming like banshees and firing wildly.

  Kael had his arm around Ean, but it was hard to say which of them was helping which.

  Ean was swinging one leg and Kael had blood running down the side of his uniform.

  They weren’t the only ones injured either. All of the men in the patrol looked to be wounded. They must have walked right in to the fucking skeets.

  “Gods damn it!” he growled under his breath, trying to decide whether he should send somebody out to help the injured or not.

  “Give them some cover fire!” he roared abruptly, finding a target and firing his laser rifle in short bursts.

  To his relief, as soon as they cut loose, the skeets began to drop back, giving Kael and his men a little distance. A few tense minutes later, the scouts poured over the line, hitting the hard ground and then scrambling back toward the ledge for cover.

  “Medic!” Kael bellowed.

  “Somebody try to raise the ship and get us some reinforcements down here!”

  Camryn yelled over the noise. “We’re going to be fighting hand to hand any minute!”

  “We could fall back to the mine,” Ean said a little breathlessly, his voice strained.

  Camryn spared a glance at him and then the mine. “We’d be trapped.”

  “I’m not sure we’re going to have a lot of choices,” Kael grunted. “I don’t think we’re going to get any reinforcements. The solar flares have created a communications blackout.”

  “Fuck!” Camryn snarled, firing a half a dozen more blasts and then ducking down to check the power level on his rifle. “I’m low. Weapons check!”

  As the men called out their ammunition levels, Camryn’s expression grew more and more grim. An image of Simone flickered through his mind, but he shook it off. He couldn’t do her any good if he was dead—maybe not even if he lived through this—but certainly not if they took him back in a bag.

  Bad luck, he reminded himself, surveying the terrain a little desperately. The position they were holding was their only vantage point, however. With the men and weapons he had, there was no way in hell they were going to hold off a full fucking battalion for long. Worse, if the enemy decided to outflank them they were going to be dead men.

  “Keep trying to hail the ship, but prepare to move,” he said grimly.

  Chapter Ten

  “Half of them don’t even speak English!” Colleen objected. “What good is it going to do to have a protest when they don’t even know what it’s about?”

  Actually, Simone reflected, a lot more of them could speak and understand at least a little English than she’d expected. “So they’ll ask the ones that do speak and understand. They’ll at least be curious! They can’t ignore us.”

  “I think it’s a bad idea,” Liz volunteered.

  Sharon, who’d suggested it, glared at her. “It’s worked before! At the very least it draws people’s attention to something they might not have noticed before.”

  “It worked on Earth—in the U.S.—but that’s because everybody there believes in freedom. Once they realize some people’s rights are being trampled on, they become more open minded. These people wrote the book on blind obedience!”

  “Look! What’s the worst they can do? Ignore us? They’re doing that already.

  We have think of a way to show them that we aren’t nonentities! We’re people and we demand to be treated like people!”

  “We could be imprisoned in the barracks like Simone was for disturbing the peace, or a real prison,” Liz said helpfully.

  Sharon sent her an irritated look. “Ok—show of hands! Everyone that is willing to take part in the protest, raise your hand.”

  Only about a third of the women raised their hands.

  Sharon sat down angrily.

  Simone stood up. “What’s the matter with all of you? My god! Even if they confine us for a few weeks, what the hell is that? We were confined in the damned hold of the ship longer than that! Just what is it that’s so fucking great here that you’re afraid of losing it?”

  Most of the women glared at her. One near the back shouted. “Maybe we just aren’t that anxious to die!”

  “All Sharon has suggested is that we march down the street singing a protest song and chanting. Yes, it’ll disturb the peace and they’ll send the guards to round us up and we’ll be confined, but I can’t think of a single reason for them to attack us!”

  “I can. Have you seen what the men do to women in some of those Muslim countries?”

  “Thanks, Liz!”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “If we all stick together we stand a better chance all the way around. They might just ignore a handful of women, but you all want this as much as we do! How right is it for you to cringe in a corner and let somebody else fight for something you want?”

  Sharon stood up again. “Look! We have deniability here. We can march and sing and chant and when they stop it, and I know they will, we can just say it’s like a religious custom for us, right?”

  “I think they studied the culture at least a little while they were learning the language. That might not hold water,” Liz offered.

  “And it might! We don’t know it wouldn’t. They can’t have spent a hell of a lot of time studying the culture or they would’ve known we weren’t cut out for this!”

  “Alright,” Simone said tiredly. “Those of you who want to do this, meet us down here after breakfast in the morning.”

  “You don’t mean to tell me you’re going to do it anyway?” Liz demanded.

  Simone frowned at her. “I don’t know about you, but I’m still fighting for my babies—not just for myself. Yes, I’m going to do it if I have to march down the damned street by myself!”

  “I’m with you,” Sharon said.

  Simone’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Good! Now, what are going to chant?

  It needs to be something short and catchy. We aren’t going to be able to march all the way around without passing out if its like a speech, and anyway it needs to grab their attention.”

  “I don’t know. I was thinking about alternating with some of those oldies—you know from the women’s liberation era?”

  Simone frowned. “I don’t know the lyrics of any of them.”

  “So? We make them up as we go along.”

  “Liberation is a good theme,” Liz offered.

  “I don’t think these people even know what being free is,” Karen said dryly.

  “They think they’re free. That’s almost as sad for them as it is for us and that’s what’s really scary about doing this. They’ve stuck with their traditions in spite of the fact that it’s just about completely destroyed their society. Why would they listen to us?”

  Simone felt a dip in her enthusiasm. She dismissed it. “Maybe you’re right, but we have to try … or just give up. I’m not ready to give up when we haven’t even made an attempt. We don’t know that they won’t listen. How are we ever going to find out if there are people out there tha
t hate the way things are as much as we do unless we give them a chance to see that things can be different?”

  “You think some of them might actually join us?” Liz asked doubtfully.

  “Why not? You think the worker class is happy about being stuck where they are because that’s where they were born?”

  “You’re talking about revolution!”

  Simone stared at Karen blankly. “What did you think we were talking about?”

  “Hey!” someone shouted. “That reminds me of this old song by a foreign group.

  We could sing that. ‘You say you want a revo ….’”

  “No!” Sharon, Simone, and Liz all said at the same time.

  “The idea is to make this a peaceful protest—to get them to start thinking differently, not to start a civil war! We’re doing this to protect our rights as women and mothers—for our children. Violence isn’t the way to save what we want and even hinting at revolution is a very, very bad idea when it could trigger just that. ”

  Liz studied Sharon and Simone doubtfully. “Well, a peaceful change might be what you have in mind, but don’t be surprised if we get fireworks.”

  * * * *

  Simone was wound so tightly when she returned to her apartment, all she could think about was taking a long, hot shower to unwind. It was just as well that she was distracted by her thoughts. Otherwise she might have missed opportunity when it knocked.

  When she’d let herself in and turned from closing the door, she found a drak male standing against the far wall. Her eyes rounded. She sucked in a sharp breath.

  He surged toward her but his expression wasn’t threatening. It was almost as panicked as her own. “No! No scream! No hurt, womens! Just talk.”

  He stopped when she held out her arm in a ‘stop’ gesture. “Who are you?”

  His brow furrowed, but she could see he was thoughtful, not angry. When his brow cleared, he pointed downward. “Serve foots.” He made an eating gesture.

  Simone folded her lips together as it suddenly sank in that he was one of the men who served their food—the one she’d thanked the first day, she realized. And his English was terrible. “Food.”

  He looked at her blankly.

  She held up her foot. “This is a foot. You serve the food.”

  He reddened. “Not good your speak,” he admitted.

  “No kidding?” She studied him for the first time and realized he didn’t look like much more than a kid—maybe eighteen or twenty. Apparently, they didn’t grow them small, though. He was slender, muscular and still probably around six feet tall. “Why are you here?”

  He looked distressed. “Want to hear.”

  Uneasiness flickered through Simone. “Hear what?”

  His brow furrowed. He touched his chest. “My Zev. No speak no good your talk. Understand better. Want to … learn your world. Say what is like.”

  Some of her uneasiness waned, but she couldn’t decide whether he was just curious about Earth or he had some reason for wanting to know beyond the curiosity.

  “I’m not sure you should really be here.”

  “’S alright, you say. Am worker. Can be your lover.”

  “Oh! Whoa! You said you wanted to talk.”

  He studied her speculatively and finally smiled slowly. “Talk after?”

  It was a surprisingly seductive smile. Simone felt her heart execute a little flipflop.

  “You’re a little young to be trying to put moves on me! Have you got any idea how old I am?”

  He looked a little taken aback. “You very young, very beautiful. Zev like be your lover.”

  “Mmm. Thanks, but I’m not the market right now. I’m really kind of tired.”

  He nodded. “Walk tomorrow. Protest.”

  Simone had been on the point of opening her door and shoving him out. That sent alarms through her. She sent him a wide-eyed look. “What?”

  “Zev no say to anyone.”

  Simone was beginning to get severely impatient with his broken English. It was giving her a headache and what was more, she was beginning to suspect that the idiot thought he was going to blackmail her into having sex with him. He must have been better at reading expressions than he was at speaking English.

  “Want to hear talk—to learn. You no want Zev for lover, is alright. Sad, but alright. You talk, yes?”

  It dawned on Simone abruptly that Zev might just be trying to tell her that he was a convert. At the very least, he was clearly intrigued by the stories he’d overheard them telling each other about Earth.

  Was there danger in taking him as his word, though? What if he was—like a spy?

  She considered that and finally decided that it just didn’t seem very likely. He was from the lowest class and they were pretty much non-entities, too. Of course, they were also the only ones who could interact with the breeders, but she still couldn’t quite picture the possibility that they were important enough to warrant such a thing.

  “You just want to talk?” she asked.

  Reluctance flickered across his face, but he nodded. “No like Zev?”

  “I don’t know you.”

  “Get to know as lover,” he said a little hopefully.

  “No!”

  Anger flickered in his eyes, but he apparently gave up. “Later. Get to know, then lovers, yes?”

  “Oh for gods sake! If fucking is all you’ve got on your mind you’re barking up the wrong tree!”

  “Not all on mind.” He shrugged, grinning a little sheepishly. “Mostly. Never did. Would like to.”

  Simone blinked at him. She was on the point of asking him if he’d just said what she’d thought he had when it occurred to her that that might encourage him. It also occurred to her that there weren’t a hell of a lot of women available and she was probably right—he was a virgin. The possibility was strangely appealing. He was a nice looking boy, but she wasn’t sure she could think of him as being anything but a boy and that made her uncomfortable.

  Given his focus on screwing, she was pretty sure it wasn’t a good idea to invite him to hang around. Unfortunately, given the fact that he knew at least some of their plans, booting him out without trying to discover his views also didn’t seem like a good idea.

  Releasing an irritated huff, she finally nodded. “You can stay as long as it’s just to talk—and just for a little while. Alright?”

  He nodded. Simone headed for her bed to sit down. Zev apparently decided to head toward the door. They did the ‘I can’t get by you’ dance for a moment and finally managed to break the impasse and switch places. Simone settled at the head of the bed with her back against the wall. “What do you want to know?”

  He frowned. “Not like Macedon?”

  Simone snorted. “No, not at all.” She thought that over. “Well, I suppose maybe a little. We don’t have classes like you do here—exactly. At home it’s got more to do with money. Of course, nobody is allowed to treat people differently because of their income. They do, but it isn’t supported by laws or encouraged, so it isn’t as open as it is here. And, of course, there is the racial thing—but that isn’t supported by laws or encouraged either. It isn’t part of the system, if you know what I mean, and people aren’t really stuck. Not that it’s easy to move up in the world if you’re born poor, or get to be rich if you’re born in the middle class—or come from a poor family, but you can if you’re smart enough, determined enough, and you manage to catch a break here and there.”

  He looked excited for the first time since he’d suggested he could be her lover.

  “Dis! Yes! Zev no want to be worker. Born worker, die worker. If have son, he worker.” He considered that. “No have son because Zev worker. No have concubine.

  No fuck. No woman.”

  Simone felt a welling of pity but anger, too. “Well duh! Just how long is going to take you people to figure out why you don’t have any women? No one ever talks about anything but sons! My god! Is it that hard to figure out? You have to have daughters if you
want to have women!”

  He reddened with anger. “Can have only one! No son, no line!”

  Simone glared back at him. “No daughters, no sons! Somebody has to compromise! I don’t understand the one child rule anyway! I got the short version of the history of the drak. I know the home planet, where the drak originated, was overpopulated and laws were passed for population control, but that ceased to be an issue when the planet was destroyed. Why haven’t the laws been changed?”

  He frowned. “Happen once. Happen again. Macedon bad place. Not like home world. Important to control population—more important. Less … things.”

  Less things? They made all sorts of things. Their technology in many areas was way more advanced than on Earth—certainly in space travel. She considered that and added robotics—probably weaponry. It was a little backwards, however, in the areas that would have been developed for women—because women weren’t important and now they just about didn’t have any.

  “Things to make—stuff! Food.”

  “Resources?”

  He looked at her blankly.

  She tried again. “Water, air, minerals?”

  He thought about it and nodded. “Resources. Yes. These things to make other things. We fight all time the skeets, the flurs, the meres—old enemies—from Father World. Drak found Kylo for resources. They found, want to fight to take.”

  Simone stared at him as it dawned on her that he was talking about the other races from their home world. They’d split up, found new worlds and found them lacking in what they needed and started a new war over the resources of the planet they’d located that had what they wanted.

  Abruptly, she felt a wave of cold wash over her. This was why the warrior class was the highest, the most important. Was that also why she hadn’t even caught a glimpse of Camryn, Kael, or Ean? “They’re fighting now?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Fighting now. Stop for a time, but start again.”

  “Why can’t they just share what there is?” Simone asked in dismay.

  He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “With enemies?”

  Simone’s lips tightened. “They wouldn’t be enemies, then.”