Her Darkest Beauty: An Alien Invasion Series - The Second Generation

by Patricia Renard Scholes

  "You are so quiet, Carlon."

  He gave a non-committal grunt.

  "I can understand how Karra might find herself at this family gathering, especially since, as you say, she has been known for dropping in unannounced. But you did tell me once that there is the possibility that Jem might also arrive. I’m just not sure how that could be.”

  Heart pounding, Carlon escorted her out of the building. No one outside the family was supposed to know Karra could get in touch with Jem anytime she wanted to.

  "Karra sees Jem."

  "And you've never told Security?"

  "What is there to tell? She's the only one who can reach him, and she has never been willing to say how she does it. Don't you think I've asked?"

  "Of course." She sounded relieved. "But you still should have reported it to Security."

  "Telling Security would have alienated her completely." And it might have put me in danger, he thought, remembering Jem’s many references to the Homelander Front over the years.

  Before he entered the tube, he paused a moment to admire the airway system. At sundown each bubble shimmered in a halo of light. Brightening lights sped through tubes to destinations all over the city, like streams of bubbles from a child's pipe. He led Chi’ara and Lela into the protective bubble and watched the membrane close after he touched the exit closest to home. Their airway system was one of the Nevians’ many gifts to Homelanders.

  The gift, like most of their amazing technology, ended at the Area. Its residents could see, but rarely touch, the wealth of their conquerors. There were times, never spoken, when Carlon was sure he hated them as much as Jem and Karra did. But he had chosen another route.

  He planned to be one of them.

  They stepped into the darkening streets, more dangerous because of Chi’ara's visible finery. They drew stares from merchants and passersby alike. Some, recognizing Carlon, stepped back. Others, drawn to the amazing sight of not one, but two, Nevian women in their midst, edged closer. Carlon felt for the pistol in his shoulder holster under his coat, and paused in his step when he found it missing.

  "Carlon?"

  Then he remembered he had given it to Chi’ara, to make her feel safer when they entered the Area later. He had been amused at the time, but now he wished he had refused her request.

  "Nothing. Let's go."

  "I…" Chi’ara’s voice trailed off. Her attention flickered to the busy crowd who seemed to notice their every move. "Everything is so—unpleasant."

  "Menacing?" he asked. "It's worse than it looks, but it's not too late to turn back."

  "No." She put her hand in the crook of his elbow and started forward, wearing a determined air. But she also pulled Lela a little closer. "You live here, and you are quite healthy. I want to meet your family."

  "Evidently." He drew his knife from a holster at the small of his back and faced a beggar who dared to approach too close. But it was Chi’ara who shivered and tried to back away. He grabbed her upper arm and marched her through the throng of people, kicking at the beggar, almost dragging Chi’ara toward his home.

  Not until he announced their arrival did he feel the muscles in her arm relax.

  “Do you walk this every day?” Her head flitted toward his knife.

  When he strode to the doors of his apartment building, he shoved aside some beggar children who tried to block the entrance, using the point of his knife for emphasis. He opened the door for both women, and slammed it soundly behind him. He pointed the knife point straight ahead. "Stairs," he said, smiling slightly. "I climb these every day too."

  "Stairs?" She turned toward some doors against one wall. "What about the elevator? Isn't that an elevator?"

  Carlon barked a humorless laugh and sheathed his knife. "It's never worked for as long as I can remember."

  "Tell your landlord to have it fixed." She and Lela followed him reluctantly up the stairs.

  "Landlord? Now, who would that be? I haven't been able to find the real owners."

  "But don't you pay rent?"

  "Sure. If we don't, all MasterCom connections will be severed, not to mention Security will arrest us for trespassing."

  "Then who fixes things?"

  "We buy plastiform to repair the walls. One of the residents is good with plumbing. Another helps with various other odd jobs, but no one in this building knows how to fix the elevator."

  "That is ridiculous!"

  "Chi’ara, this is the Area. Sector Five benefits don't extend to us. In this neighborhood, and especially in this household, you are the Other, the Invader who takes, and never gives anything in return except trouble."

  When he turned briefly to see the effect of his words, the shocked expression on Chi’ara’s face gave him a mild sense of satisfaction.

  "Do you see me like that?"

  "Of course not. But you better hope Karra and Jem don’t come tonight, because they certainly will see you exactly like that."

  With a sniff of impatience, Chi’ara began a monologue on the enemies of society and the punishment due them. "You share the same background," she concluded by way of example. "Yet you are not a murderer or the leader of some rebel organization."

  Which was not far from what he also believed, but it was too late to comment. They had already reached his apartment. He just wished she were aware of how hard he had worked to succeed. Even more, he wished the others in his family besides Suzin knew.

  "Welcome!" Suzin tucked a stray strand of her blonde hair behind one ear. She wore it Area-style, in loose curls brushing her shoulders. Until she noticed the Nevians’ upswept hair pinned gracefully in place, she had never thought about it being unbound before. She felt self-conscious suddenly.

  "Suzin," Carlon said. He sounded completely unaware of her discomfort. "This is Mistress Chi’ara and her companion Lela."

  Not Mistress Lela, Suzin noted. She must be a servant.

  “Chi’ara, Suzin is the most valuable member of our family. She has literally kept the family together by taking our mother's place in raising all the younger children, including Karra's Chalatta. We could not have managed without her."

  "I am honored to meet you, Mistress Suzin," Chi’ara told her with a gracious air.

  Mirra, Suzin almost corrected before she caught herself. Instead, she nodded and turned to Carlon. "Please introduce her around. I have a few things left to do in the kitchen. Will you excuse me?"

  "If Mistress Suzin is representative," Chi’ara said, "you do come from a remarkable family." Of course she had no intention of mentioning the remains of a bruise around Suzin’s eye. The Outer Area is a violent place, she remembered hearing. Casualties must be expected.

  Carlon returned an unenthusiastic smile. She supposed he worried about his family's manners. Chi’ara had noticed Suzin's hesitation at the formal title of Mistress, as if she had been ready to replace it with the common term of Mirra. Wisely, the human woman had stopped herself in time.

  As she glanced around the room, Chi’ara discovered the strangest hair she had ever seen. "Carlon, please. This lady must be next. Who is the red-haired beauty?" Indeed, the girl would have been lovely were it not for the outrageous hair.

  Seeing his sister's shy smile, Carlon grinned broadly. "Saril. She is more than beautiful. She will be the first one of us to graduate. We all promised our mother we would try, but none of us has gone as far as she has."

  "You did, Carlon," Saril said. "This far, I mean." Her eyes touched his briefly before they settled on Chi’ara and her maid, and lingered there, as if her thoughts flew from her promising education to the Nevian finery confronting her. And why not? Even her maid was dressed better than any of these Area females.

  "But you will finish," Carlon insisted. "And so will Dugaan," he added, turning Chi’ara toward a tall, lanky boy to her left. "Though two years younger, he is only one year behind Saril in school. Both also have after-school jobs."

  "He looks so much like you," she observed, not caring if he ever worked. They w
ere Outer Area, after all. Her only goal was to win their affections—by whatever means necessary—until she sprang her trap. "Same high cheekbones and nearly the same coloring."

  "Father was Zarindan, from the Katarin Islands off the eastern coast. That’s where Kata,” he said, pausing to gesture to a dark-haired beauty, “gets her name. Mother was Irelli, a native of this Northland. Saril has Mother's hair, Suzin her eyes and complexion. Now, Kata here is as dark as Dugaan, as Father was, with the same high cheekbones and dark eyes, but see the hair? It gets those blond streaks in it in the summer. Benej, the youngest, used to be as blond as Suzin, but his hair has darkened over the years to that warm brown like Kata's, except without the blond streaks. He also has Mother's blue eyes."

  "You know your local origins!" Such information was not encouraged, almost forbidden.

  Carlon grimaced. "Well, you know who our father was, don't you?"

  "Of course." She took a deep breath. "You Homelanders do have quite a variety, I must say. So, ah, colorful! Two of you have blue eyes, then." What gaudy people! Red hair, blue eyes, pink and brown skin. Blond streaks! If they lived in the Inner City, adopted by a Nevian family perhaps, they would at least have the decency to wear lenses over those sky-colored eyes, and a bit of skin paint to cover the pink in their skin. Many families also colored their misbegotten children’s hair. Although there were quite a few anymore who seemed to embrace the differences in their human adoptees, most would never let their child be seen in public with red hair! She preferred Carlon's brown and black coloring. Closer to normal.

  "Three," the youngest boy added, as if she cared who else had such ill-formed coloring. "Karra has blue eyes too."

  "Really fine siblings," Chi’ara told Carlon, not seeing Karra.

  Her mind returned to their evident knowledge of their history and geography. Her uncle mentioned once that this family even had forbidden books. Suppose Carlon were really a subversive!

  "I'm glad you like my family," he told her, sounding tense. He stiffened when he saw the direction of Chi’ara’s gaze.

  "Who's the little girl?" she asked, wondering why the child had not been introduced.

  The girl returned her stare with rude insolence. It was evident she did not welcome her guests. This one, Chi’ara decided, has not yet learned her place. Life will be hard for her until she chooses to show deference.

  "Chalatta," Carlon told her. He gave the girl a meaningful look and said, "Come here, honey, and meet the lady I'm going to marry."

  "She's an Other, Uncle Carlon," came the little girl's unexpected warning. "Both of them are."

  Nervous laughter rippled around the room.

  Other! She glared at the disgusting child. She dares to use that derogatory term in my presence, and these people let her!

  "Nevian," Carlon corrected. "A very wonderful Nevian, don't you think?" His expression dared her to disagree.

  "I'm very pleased to meet you," Chi’ara offered.

  But Chalatta glared at her uncle as if she had no doubt in her mind who the enemy was, even if Carlon could no longer tell.

  "Uncle Carlon, are you really going to marry this—lady?"

  Never had Chi’ara heard the term lady used with such contempt. Then she remembered. Chalatta was Karra's child. Of course! No wonder the family was embarrassed. They had no idea how to correct such defiance.

  "Yes, I am, Chalatta. Then she will be your aunt."

  The child's eyes, already large and dark, widened at this unexpected knowledge. "She'll be family?"

  "Yes," Carlon told her firmly. "With all the respect due a family member." He emphasized the word respect. Good.

  "Yes," Chi’ara added silkily. "Chalatta, dear, I'll be your new aunt." She turned her attention back to Carlon, pleased with the advantage he had given her. "An attractive child, though somewhat lacking in manners. But she resembles no one in your family. You mentioned Zarindan and Irelli. Since we are in a place where such things are discussed, I feel I can say she might be part Krindarwee."

  “She might be. Though why you'd want to know is beyond me.”

  Chi’ara stared in the direction of the new voice, noticing the same expression of contempt as the child. Without being told, she knew who faced her.

  Carlon mouthed a curse. "Karra, meet Mistress Chi’ara Kees Sol, the finest woman I have ever met."

  Across the room from them, the inadequate light of the naked glowlamp in the ceiling showed the gold-brown of her hair and the fine structure of her face, but little else. Although she seemed to have stiffened when Carlon had introduced her, right now she lounged with exaggerated casualness against the wall in a doorway. "I can see why Carlon wants to marry you. An Other would be so much better for business than just any girl.”

  Carlon groaned. "I might have known you wouldn’t understand."

  "Oh, even Chalatta understands. This woman could never be family." She gave "family" a special emphasis. "Chi’ara, as no more than a prized acquisition, you will never be our sister, nor my daughter's aunt. Do not refer to yourself in such a manner again."

  She gave a command, Chi’ara realized, amazed at Karra's audacity.

  "That's enough, Karra." Carlon's expression darkened as he led Chi’ara to the couch. "Lela." He gestured to the maid to seat herself between them, as was appropriate.

  "Of the two of us," Chi’ara said to Karra, "you might be the first one here to find herself unwelcome." She gave Karra a defiant glare. "What do you do now that you're a wanted criminal?"

  "Chi’ara!" Carlon almost choked.

  Karra laughed. It sounded more like a warning.

  "Why don't you tell her what you really do?" Saril's voice rasped low, ominous. "Why don't you talk about fear, fear of walking to school, of coming home, of working, of finding no work? Why don't you explain a few things to her?"

  Karra's eyes flickered. "Because they never understand. Watch." Her gaze moved slowly over every fraction of Chi’ara’s body as though the concealing fabric were made of invisible material, until both Chi’ara and her maid squirmed.

  “I gave you the Nevian stare. Did it feel good? We get such looks all the time. But job offers? Not freetin’ likely. No, you wouldn't understand about hustling your ass for a handful of wens because you hadn't eaten in two days, would you." Karra wasn't asking.

  "Hardly! I would never—"

  “See?” Karra said to Saril. “I think they refuse to understand.”

  "You are so disgustingly crude!" Lela said, speaking for the first time. "Master Carlon, how can you let my mistress be insulted like that?"

  "Lela," Carlon said helplessly. "Chi’ara, I'm sorry." Then he turned his full anger on his sister. "Karra! Why do you always act like that? Couldn't you cap it, just once?"

  "Well, Carlon, I don't know about you." Chi’ara’s voice sharpened. "But I intend to do something."

  She jumped to her feet, armed with the pistol Carlon had given her earlier that day, and pointed it right at Karra's chest, dead center.

  "Mama!" Chalatta screamed as she launched herself to her feet.

  "Karra!" Kata and Saril shouted in unison, unconsciously poising themselves to fight or flee. Dugaan and Benej, standing behind the couch, took similar stances.

  For one tense moment, Chi’ara wondered if things might escalate out of control, but a tiny gesture from Karra held everyone motionless. Chi’ara felt grateful briefly, then angry that she should owe gratitude to this felon. She waved the gun, a warning.

  But Karra's attention settled on her daughter. "Baby," she said, her voice husky with dark emotion. "Stay right there. Uncle Carlon will see to it that nothing stupid happens here. Won't you?" She gave Carlon a stare cold enough to chill blood.

  "Chi’ara," he warned. "Karra is serious."

  "So am I!" After all, she reminded herself, I have the gun, not Karra. But her heart thudded in protest, and her body began trembling slightly.

  “You don't understand," Carlon tried again. "This is a new game to you. But Karra
knows how to get out of this sort of thing alive. You don't even know how to play."

  "I'm not playing games. Find a seat, Karra. We're going to wait awhile."

  But Karra remained slouched against the wall as though she had grown there, except her eyes held a glint of ice and her jaw muscles tightened.

  "Suit yourself," Chi’ara said, the smoothness of her words marred by a tinge of worry when Karra refused to obey. "Actually, I was hoping to find Jem here too. Unfortunate, because I've taken the liberty of inviting Security to this little party. They should be here soon."

  Too late she noticed the sudden hostility of the rest of the family at the mention of Security. She realized she had lost the possibility of any allies now save Carlon. The thought that Carlon might not stand by her filled her with dread.

  No one moved. Even Suzin, who, according to Carlon, possessed less street experience than the rest of them, stood frozen in the doorway of the kitchen, a forgotten casserole still in her mittened hands.

  Chi’ara studied Karra in the long, silent seconds that followed, noting her pale face, gaunt in the poor light of the room. There were dark circles under her eyes. Hungry eyes, she thought.

  Chi’ara noted the bronze highlights in the woman's hair. Freshly washed hair, if what Carlon said about her was true. He claimed she always kept it as clean as possible, washing it every day if she could. Well, the communal showers in prison might change that. Karra's blue eyes were fixed on the pistol, her mouth parted slightly. She looked more like an innocent little girl than the murderess of the Administrator of Education.

  Just as Chi’ara was beginning to feel sorry for the thin, haunted young woman, Carlon spoke, a quiet voice that startled her more than if he had shouted.

  "Chi’ara, she has a knife strapped to her thigh."

  She acknowledged his words with a nod. "Thank you. I thought you were going to support your sister in this and try to talk me out of what I must do." She tried not to sigh in relief.

  "Karra," she said, using a command tone as her uncle had instructed. "Unstrap the knife. Very slowly. You had better believe your life depends on it." To emphasize her point, she took two steps forward, gesturing with the gun.