Exo

by Fonda Lee

  “Hope,” he whispered. “I’ll try to have hope, Father.”

  Stepping into the room he’d been summoned to in the Towers, Donovan was at first so taken aback that he forgot decorum. It wasn’t just Soldier Werth waiting for him; all the erze zun were gathered. Upon Donovan’s entrance, their soft musical conversations faded and dozens of hard amber eyes focused on him.

  “Come in, Donovan,” said Administrator Seir. “Do you want anything to eat or drink?”

  The question was a pleasantry some zhree had grown accustomed to exchanging with humans by way of greeting. Donovan knew better than to say yes; eating was a private affair for zhree. “No, zun,” he said, dropping his armor in belated haste.

  Why had he been called here? Awful suspicions rushed to mind. Therrid must have reported him. An exo capable of flagrant treachery, of attacking a zhree even with good reason, was abnormal, unacceptable. Had they scrutinized everything he’d done over the last few weeks and decided he was so far out of erze he was to be stripped of his markings after all? Or worse? Donovan’s exocel started to crawl with nerves; he forced it back down, standing attentively.

  The zhree shifted into a semicircle, surrounding Donovan with armored hulls, limbs, and staring eyes. “You all know Donovan?” Administrator Seir asked the other zhree.

  Fins dipped in assent. No doubt they recalled him being singled out before the High Speaker. The more observant ones would have seen him in the human news coverage lately.

  “Soldier Werth,” said the zun Administrator, “tell us about this human-in-erze of yours.”

  Werth said, “Donovan is an adolescent nearing full maturity. He was Hardened with an eighth-generation human exocellular system and graduated to active status in the Global Security and Pacification Forces two hundred and twenty-seven days ago. His skills rating is excellent. Both fortunately and unfortunately”—Werth’s fins flattened in a frown—“his unusual involvement in recent events has made him well known to a great many humans, both our allies and our enemies. Also, he is the only biological offspring of Prime Liaison Dominick Reyes.”

  A swell of low humming and fluttering fins. “The only one?” Merchant Hess exclaimed. Donovan refrained from rolling his eyes. The zhree never ceased to be amazed that human fertility was unrelated to social status, and that high-status individuals might have only one or two children, or none at all.

  Seir sliced the air with his fins to silence the muttering. “Donovan, we summoned you here for a reason. You know far more about the political situation at hand than most humans. Are you aware that the High Speaker departed the Round yesterday?”

  Donovan nodded. The military cordon out to Jupiter had finally been deemed secure enough for the High Speaker to leave safely. Donovan had been glad not to have to stand honor guard this time and had watched from a distance as the massive cruiser ship lifted off and ascended into the sky, escorted by half a dozen fighter craft.

  Seir said, “Due to the growing threat of Rii attack, the High Speaker was forced to cut short the rest of his visit. He will return to Kreet, where he will deliberate with the Homeworld Council on whether to continue supporting Earth as a Mur colony.”

  Donovan was still not sure why he had been brought into this conversation, but he asked, slowly, “And if they decide not to?”

  The assembled zhree seemed to shift uncertainly. It made Donovan nervous. After a long pause, Soldier Werth said, “We have already been asked to prepare an evacuation plan.”

  An evacuation plan? Donovan tried to process the idea. There were billions of people on Earth. You couldn’t evacuate billions of people. Billions of squishies. When the zhree said evacuation, they meant themselves. In a flat voice that sounded oddly less horrified than he felt, Donovan said, “You mean you would abandon Earth … and leave the planet undefended, with all the humans in chaos.”

  “The Rii would appreciate such a boon,” Engineer Phee said darkly. “It’d take no more than a couple of their Seige-class warships to conquer this planet and start looting its resources and infrastructure for their Galaxysweepers.”

  “They’ll strip everything they can for a few hundred years, then move on, as they did with Bithis and Pyrt,” said Merchant Hess.

  Builder Dor’s fins quivered with rage. “Have we given so many lives, so much time and effort, to build this colony, merely to turn around and flee when homeworld armor grows soft?”

  “None of this has been determined yet,” Administrator Seir trilled loudly. “You can appreciate why, Donovan, I am ordering you not to reveal anything you’re hearing now.”

  “Yes, zun,” Donovan mumbled, though he wanted to run from the room. His father ought to be the one in here dealing with such weighty problems. Was that why the Prime Liaison had been so grim and preoccupied in the months before his death? Because he’d foreseen the worst-case scenario unfolding? If the zhree colonists left now, there would be anarchy. And then re-conquest.

  Administrator Seir declared, “We must convince Kreet that we have a strong plan to govern and defend the planet. That includes defense against Rii attack, but also ending the human uprisings and political violence, and expanding the erze system and exo programs to sustain the colony in the long run. There is no question that we need human allies to help implement any viable solution. Here in Round Three, we are in immediate need of a new Prime Liaison.” He focused back on Donovan. “You are aware, I assume, of how a Prime Liaison is appointed?”

  Donovan nodded. “It’s written in the Accord. The President nominates five candidates. Congress votes to confirm three of them. Those three are sent to the Towers and the zhree zun choose one of them.” He left out how, theoretically, the zhree could reject all the candidates until Congress presented them with someone they found acceptable.

  Administrator Seir dipped his fins. “I have asked the human government to begin this process at once and to present us with candidates as soon as possible. Dominick Reyes was our staunchest, most competent human ally; we are unlikely to find a worthy replacement, yet everything depends on it. Donovan, when the time comes, you will help us choose your father’s successor. You will act as adviser to the zhree zun until a new Prime Liaison is in place.”

  He must have heard incorrectly. Also, the translation machine must be malfunctioning. Donovan opened his mouth and closed it again. “I … what? Zun, I’m not … I’m not even remotely qualified.”

  “Humans, I have observed, foster close relationships with their biological offspring, regardless of erze assignment. You knew your father better than anyone else. We want you to tell us how he would act, what decisions he would make.”

  Donovan shook his head vehemently. “There are several administrators-in-erze who worked for my father in the Liaison Office. Any one of them—”

  “Your erze rates you highly on intelligence and cooperativeness. You understand our language and culture far better than most humans. You know how things work in the Towers, you are both offspring and apprentice of Dominick Reyes, and most importantly you are an exo, a soldier-in-erze with firsthand knowledge of the Sapience threat. Given the sensitive, dangerous, and urgent situation we find ourselves in, those aspects qualify you above others.”

  I’m just a teenager! I’m not old enough or experienced enough and I have no idea what my father would do! Donovan opened his mouth to argue, but the decisive sweeping of the Administrator’s fins and the authoritative staccato rhythm of his words left no doubt that the decision had already been made. Donovan was being informed, not asked.

  “Yes, zun,” he said, wondering if he sounded as miserable as he felt.

  “This is highly unusual,” Nurse Thet said with concern. “We are asking a young exo with a history of questionable judgment to exceed his prescribed role as a soldier-in-erze.”

  “Perhaps due to some defect in his Hardening process, Donovan appears to be already quite adept at exceeding his prescribed role,” Soldier Werth grumbled in a low strum.

  “These are unusual tim
es.” Administrator Seir took a step toward Donovan. “Do you fully understand all that has been said? Do you understand what you must do?”

  What he must do? Donovan’s mind stumbled over the question before the enormous, obvious answer hit him: He had to save the human species. A panicked laugh of derision began to bubble from his lips. He strangled it and forced it back down into his chest. This was some kind of terrible poetic justice. Saving humanity was what his mother and father had been striving to do all their lives, in entirely different ways, and look at the price they’d paid for it.

  “I understand, zun.” There was only one thing his parents had agreed upon: Humans could be more. They could rise, against all odds, from conquest and adversity.

  He hoped he could prove them right.

  “Let’s wrap it up,” Jet said, dropping into the driver’s seat. “Vic’s coming over at nineteen hundred and my mom’s making chili.”

  Donovan looked up from the notes he was finishing, summarizing their interview with a scientist-in-erze who’d worked with Dr. Nakada in the past and had given them some information that might lead SecPac to the man before he made any more progress on developing an armor-disabling weapon. Donovan sent the report to Central Command, marking it for Commander Tate’s special attention, then said, “Can we make a quick detour?”

  Jet didn’t look happy about it, but he nodded. As he set the skimmercar into motion, he glanced at Donovan. “How’re you doing? First week back, not too bad, right? Day shift, short patrol routes … They’re going easy on you. You’re giving me an excuse to slack off.”

  “I’m just glad Therrid forgave me enough to clear me for duty,” Donovan said. “Maybe he was just sick of monitoring me on leave and having to put up with me so often.”

  “I still can’t believe you punched a zhree in the eye.” Jet shook his head. “Though, hell, I’d believe anything now. If you told me that you’d been sent on a secret spy mission to Kreet itself as part of your new special adviser status, I wouldn’t even blink twice.”

  “You’re going to wish you’d stuck with Leon.”

  “Man, no. Leon’s great, but I wanted to break his pencils by the end.”

  Donovan laughed a little. “You’ll get sick of me too staying at your place.” A pause, then quietly, “Thanks, by the way.”

  Jet shrugged. “It’s not nearly as nice as you’re used to, I know.”

  “I was glad to move out of there,” Donovan said. “Everything in it reminded me of them, you know. Being in that huge house by myself afterward … No thanks.” He leaned his head against the window, searching for the right intersection.

  “You’re going to have to tell me where,” Jet said.

  “Right there.” Donovan motioned, and his partner brought the skimmercar to a slow idle along the street curb in the Transitional Habitation grids. A couple of teenagers huddled on a building stoop and sharing a smoke; they eyed the SecPac patrol skimmercar with naked hostility. One of them directed a stream of spittle in their general direction.

  “Squishy punks,” Jet muttered. “They’re lucky we’re done for the day.”

  Donovan paid the exchange no attention. Every other time he’d driven by, the post in front of the building had been bare, containing only the random bit of graffiti or stapled posters featuring lost dogs or sketchy dive bars. Today, there was a white X painted on the weathered wood.

  After a minute, Jet looked at him searchingly. “You good?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.” Donovan felt a real smile climb his face. “Let’s go home.”

  My editor, Jody Corbett, transformed this book. She gave a resounding yes to a story about teenage soldiers, armored aliens, and a dysfunctional family, then pushed me to make it better in so many ways, encouraging me through revisions that shaped this story into something I’m unabashedly proud of. I cannot thank you enough, Jody, for “loving the guts out of this book,” as you so memorably put it.

  I am grateful to the entire team at Scholastic for getting behind Exo with such enthusiasm. Thank you to David Levithan for championing this book from the beginning, Phil Falco for making Exo look so jaw-droppingly good, Rebekah Wallin for wrangling every production detail, Jennifer Abbots for tirelessly driving publicity, and Rachel Feld for all things marketing. Thanks as well to Alan Smagler, Elizabeth Whiting, Alexis Lunsford, Annette Hughes, and all the folks in Sales who spread Exo far and wide.

  There are days when the one thing that makes me believe in my writing career is the fact that my agent, Jim McCarthy, believes in it. Jim, thank you for being unfailingly responsive, witty, knowledgeable, and optimistic, and for finding Exo the perfect home.

  Thanks to my ever willing and valuable beta reader, Vanessa MacLellan, and special shout-outs to Viable Paradise XVIII, the Fearless Fifteeners, SCBWI Oregon, Willamette Writers, my faithful monthly writers’ lunch buddies, and the wonderful friends I have made in the speculative fiction and YA author communities.

  I am, as always, grateful for a family that is proud and supportive of my writing, foremost among them my husband, Nathan. Thank you for being my first and repeat reader, for making me put more romance into this story, and for continually believing that I have more books in me.

  This book is dedicated to my parents who, like Donovan’s parents, did not always (or often) see eye to eye, but were united in their unconditional love and pride when it came to their children. They both knew I could be a professional writer before I believed I could, and their constant faith in me has enabled me to be courageous in all of my life’s decisions.

  Finally, my deepest appreciation goes to you, my readers, especially the zeroboxing fans who stuck around to see what the second event would be.

  Fonda Lee is the author of Zeroboxer, which was an Andre Norton Award finalist, a Junior Library Guild selection, and a YALSA Top Ten Quick Pick for Reluctant Young Adult Readers. After spending years as a corporate strategist for Fortune 500 companies, she is now a writer and black belt martial artist living in Portland, Oregon. You can visit her online at www.fondalee.com.

  Copyright © 2017 by Fonda Lee

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume anyresponsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Lee, Fonda, author.

  Title: Exo / Fonda Lee.

  Description: First edition. | New York : Scholastic Press, 2017. | Summary: For a century now, Earth has been a peaceful colony of an alien race, and Donovan Reyes is a loyal member of the security forces, while his father is the Prime Liaison—but when a routine search and seizure goes bad Donovan finds himself a captive of the human revolutionary group, Sapience, terrorists who seem to prefer war to alien rule, and killing Donovan just might be the incident they are looking for.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016031956 | ISBN 9780545933438

  Subjects: LCSH: Terrorism—Juvenile fiction. | Extraterrestrial beings—Juvenile fiction. | Science fiction. | CYAC: Science fiction. | Terrorism—Fiction. | Extraterrestrial beings—Fiction. | LCGFT: Science fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.L395 Ex 2017 | DDC 813.6 [Fic]—dc23

  First edition, February 2017

  Book design by Phil Falco & Mary Claire Cruz

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-93344-5

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into
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