Alienated

Chapter Three

Narrowing his eyes, Aelyx peered at the lofty banquet hall ceiling, where thousands of faceted chandelier crystals refracted the light and illumi­nated the hall in prisms of color. How completely garish. Just as the spaceport vendor had claimed, humans were fixated on shiny objects to an extent that bordered on delirium. And that was just the beginning.

The smoky scent of meat permeating the air was rank and unfamiliar. Between the click of shoes against polished mar­ble floors, echoes of conversations and laughter, and clinking champagne glasses, the noise overwhelmed him. It seemed humans had made overstimulation a way of life.

He leaned against the wall—an extravagant tile mosaic depicting soldiers mounted on horseback—and observed his host family from a distance. They hadn’t been formally introduced yet, and he already dreaded sharing a home with these people. Bill Sweeney, the father, laughed loudly with his wife and pinched her rear end when he thought no one was looking. Troy Sweeney, the family’s oldest child, seemed intent on eating his weight in an appetizer called shrimp cocktail. It certainly didn’t look appetizing.

He recognized Cara Sweeney easily from her photograph. Tonight, however, she wasn’t smiling. She stood rigidly with her arms crossed over her chest while casting hostile glances at her brother. Considering what he’d learned about her hobbies—solitary activities such as reading classic novels, video gaming, and journalistic writing—her closed-off body language came as no surprise. This female seemed to prefer isolation to the company of others, possibly a defense mecha­nism resulting from her mother’s near death. All the better. That meant she might not follow his activities too closely.

Was this girl truly the best the humans had to offer? He supposed Cara was an attractive female, a bit tall per­haps, but her blazing copper hair and blue eyes assaulted his senses. Vibrant colors didn’t exist naturally on L’eihr, and she reminded him of how alien this new world was. When his retinas couldn’t tolerate any more abuse, he glanced away and found Syrine in the crowd.

Syrine wore the same tan and gray uniform that he did, but she appeared far less relaxed in it as she conversed with her host student, a lanky Frenchman with deep black hair. While Syrine’s shoulders tensed so visibly they crept to her ears, the boy propped one hand against the wall and leaned toward her in an obvious mating ritual.

Sacred Mother, how disgusting. The imbecile either failed to notice or simply didn’t care that Syrine had no interest in pairing with him. No L’eihr of their generation would sink to sharing genetic material with a human, not even if The Way demanded it.

As if called, Syrine glanced toward him. She ducked beneath the human’s arm and scurried to where Aelyx stood, concealed in an alcove.

Locking eyes with him, she complained, Great gods, I can almost see the hormones rolling off his filthy body. I nearly vomited my supper.

Establish boundaries now, Aelyx advised, before it goes too far.

Have you seen him? She glanced over her shoulder at the boy, who’d already moved on in an attempt to entice a new female. Tipping back his head, the Frenchman honked a laugh through his hooked nose. He doesn’t understand nonverbal social cues.

If all else fails, an “accidental” knee to the groin should deliver the message.

At least your human seems tolerable. Quiet and reserved.

Aelyx studied Cara Sweeney, feeling his brows pinch together. A pained expression distorted the girl’s ivory fea­tures, and she pressed one hand against her stomach as if she might become physically ill. Tolerable? He doubted it.

And Eron, Syrine continued. His female observes personal boundaries. Such luck!

They peered across the room at Eron’s host, who stared at the floor, both hands clasped behind her back as if meditating. Her parents spoke above her head while a young boy pushed a die-cast vehicle across the marble tile at her feet. The child bore a slight resemblance to the girl, but considering China’s population restrictions, he probably wasn’t a sibling. Too bad Earth’s other nations hadn’t implemented similar policies. With their limited resources, humans were mating themselves into extinction.

Don’t worry, Aelyx told Syrine. If the sh’alear works, we won’t be here long.

It’ll take one month at least, Syrine complained. And if we’re caught . . .

If we’re caught, we die, he warned. Failure’s not an option. He could feel Syrine’s unease seeping to the surface, eroding her courage. Perhaps they’d better go over the plan again—all three of them. Go tell Eron to keep his com-sphere close. I’ll contact you both in three days.

Don’t lose faith in me. I can do this. Syrine placed her finger­tips against the left side of Aelyx’s throat in a farewell gesture of esteem. For the Sacred Mother.

And her children. Aelyx returned the gesture and pulled his hand away, then backed into the shadows of the alcove.

Once, when Cara was ten years old, she and Troy had gone exploring in the woods behind their house. He’d held a tree branch out of the way for her, and then—thinking it would be hilarious—he’d let it go too soon so it smacked her right across the belly. She’d had to breathe in tiny gasps for the next hour. Kind of the way she was breathing right now.

Like the leather pumps contorting her toes, her black cocktail dress was a size too small, and Mom had bought inex­pensive Spanx to avoid paying for a new outfit. Unfortunately, the spandex was three sizes too small, and she hadn’t been able to sit down (or inhale) all night.

“Are you gonna stop giving me the stink-eye and talk to me yet?” Troy had finally torn himself away from the buffet station, and he had shrimp between his teeth. Some things never changed. “I won’t see you for another year.”

Cara opened her mouth to speak, but then shut it again as a tug-of-war raged inside her. She wanted to throw her arms around Troy’s neck and beg him not to leave, to tell him how the house was too clean and quiet when he was gone. Crazy as it seemed, she missed his white tube socks scattered across the living room floor and the way he finished all the milk so she had to eat dry Cheerios. She wanted to demand he find another job, one that didn’t require a Kevlar vest and an anthrax vaccination.

And she wanted to punch him in the stones for abandon­ing the family once again.

Instead, she asked, “Are you scared?”

“What, of going to L’eihr?” He snorted and flashed an easy smile. “Hell, no! I can’t wait. I get to be the first person to travel at light speed. That’s huge, Pepper.”

“Don’t call me that. I’ll be seventeen next week.” When she was a newborn, Troy had taken one look at her red hair and compared her to a chili pepper. The nickname had stuck ever since, despite her repeated efforts to kill it.

“Hey, I just thought of something.” His blue eyes widened in amazement. “If Einstein was right about light speed, then you’ll be older than me when I come home to visit.”

She thought that would be fitting but didn’t say so. Instead, she nodded toward the other side of the ballroom where three L’eihrs stood huddled together: the official ambassador, who lived in Manhattan, and two visiting students. The third student had wandered away more than thirty minutes ago. “They haven’t opened their mouths once—I’ve been watch­ing. They just look into each other’s eyes. I’ll bet L’eihr’s a really quiet place.”

Troy shrugged and began picking his front teeth with his pinkie nail.

“I wonder which one’s mine.” She hoped it was the short one “talking” to the ambassador. He was the only one who smiled—the only one who looked human.

“Go find out.”

Part of her felt like she should, but the way they tipped their heads and stared at one another seemed so intense. She got the feeling they didn’t want to be interrupted. And maybe it made her a speciesist or whatever, but watching them together made her wonder how Troy would tell them apart once he got to L’eihr.

All of them, men and women alike, wore their shoulder-length light brown hair tied neatly behind the neck. It blended perfectly with their russet skin, and when combined with the tan uniforms, they were a monochromatic solid wall of brown. Like walking paper bags.

Supposedly, their planet was way older than Earth, and all races sort of blended together thousands of years ago. Then they started evolving. Or mutating. Scientists claimed the same thing would happen here one day, but she doubted it. And anyway, why did they try so hard to look alike, right down to their six-inch ponytails?

Before she had a chance to ask, the inside of Cara’s throat tickled. She tried to cough, and the elastic band digging into her waist practically spliced her liver in half. “Ow!”

“What’s with you?” Troy ran a hand over his cropped black hair and cocked an eyebrow. “Female problems?” He whispered “female” like it was a dirty word.

“No,” she said with an eye roll. “This underwear’s kill­ing me.”

“So take it off. Big whoop.”

“Oh, sure. I’m all about keepin’ it classy like that.”

“You need to unclench, dorkus. Go to the bathroom and stuff it in your little handbag or something. No one’ll ever know.” With a shake of his head, he added, “Jesus, you’re such a girl.”

An unexpected glow radiated inside her chest at Troy’s casual insults, and she bit her lip to hide a smile. Yeah, she’d missed this, too. Glancing to the side, she noticed a restroom sign and began to take his suggestion seriously. Maybe it wasn’t that big a deal. Without “support lingerie” sucking in her curves, the dress would fit tighter than a wet suit, but she could live with that.

“Okay. I’ll be back in a minute.”

While skirting around the buffet table, Cara caught a whiff of prime rib and her stomach rumbled. Maybe she could manage to eat something after removing the organ grinder panties. She hobbled toward the ladies’ room door, but a middle-aged man wearing a black suit stopped her before she could enter.

“Sorry, miss,” he said while scanning the room. “You can’t go in there.” He wore an earpiece and touched it as if receiving a message. She glanced at his badge: Secret Service.

“Why, what’s wrong?” It was getting harder to breathe.

He continued surveying the ballroom, never making eye contact while he spoke. “The president’s using the facilities. You can’t be inside with her unless you have security clear­ance. I need you to back up.”

“How much longer will she be in there?”

Silence. Still no eye contact. But it made sense that a presi­dent who didn’t care about the Constitution didn’t care how long she monopolized the ladies’ room, either.

“You know where another bathroom is?” she asked, shift­ing her weight to one hip.

A soul-piercing glare was his only reply. Tempting as it was to exercise her right to free speech, she held back, remember­ing her new role as student ambassador. The L’eihr group still huddled nearby, and she didn’t want their first impression of her to be of the psychotic variety.

So now what? She spun around and looked for an open office or any space that might offer a few seconds of privacy. She spotted a large mural that led into a darkened alcove. It could work if she was quick. Glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, she strolled into the dim recess.

Without wasting a second, she kicked off her pumps, hitched up her dress, and hooked her thumbs beneath the stiff elastic waistband. But the spandex didn’t go down without a fight. She jerked and tugged at the stretchy fabric, grunting and swearing quietly to herself for what seemed like an hour. Finally, she rolled the material down over her hips, past her thighs, and stepped free, feeling a breeze of frigid air from a nearby vent raise goose bumps on her naked backside. She was pulling her dress down when she heard muffled laughter from behind. Still barefoot, she gasped and whirled around.

“Sorry,” said a voice in the darkness. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I only wanted to make my presence known before you removed any more clothing.”

Cara’s heart pounded against her ribs while she scrambled to pick up her Spanx and cram them inside her purse. She cleared her throat. “I was just . . . um . . . really uncomfort­able. I’m not taking anything else off.” She slipped her shoes on and backed toward the hallway, feeling her whole body flush red-hot with embarrassment.

“You don’t have to explain yourself. I’ve come to expect the unusual from humans.”

The owner of that buttery voice stepped into the light, and Cara stood face-to-face with one of the most stunning individuals she’d ever seen—the missing third student. She clenched her teeth and tried not to gawk, but it wasn’t easy.

From a distance, he’d seemed unremarkable, but up close, his appearance intimidated her. Taller than any of Midtown’s athletes, his fitted uniform outlined every solid curve of mus­cle in his chest and arms, the fabric straining visibly against his broad shoulders. One strand of long honey-brown hair had escaped his clasp and fallen against the outside of his angular jaw, and when he glanced at Cara, her stomach dropped to the floor. It was his eyes that’d left her stunned—not brown like the rest of him, but the most exquisite shade of silvery gray. Holy crap, did they selectively breed for looks, too? That just wasn’t natural.

“S-Sorry you had to see that,” she stammered while step­ping out of the alcove. “I don’t usually go commando.” Oh, God, did she just say that out loud?

He chuckled again, then shrank back as if he’d startled himself with his own laughter. His brows drew together. “It’s none of my concern, Cah-ra.”

“Uh, I’ll just let you get back to . . . whatever you were doing.” Which was lurking in the dark like Chester the Molester, but after her display, she could hardly criticize.

She teetered all the way across the crowded ballroom before she realized he’d called her Cah-ra. If he knew her name, it probably meant the L’eihr she’d flashed was her stu­dent ambassador. Awesome. So much for representing America and making a good impression. And so much for convincing Eric to give the LEAP a chance. He’d take one look at Aelyx and start making ultimatums again. Eric didn’t even like it when she hung out with the spindly guys from the Honor Society, so he’d freak when—

“Took you long enough. You fall in?” Troy interrupted her musings, his face bright with excitement as he gazed over her head, searching for someone. “Where’s the L’eihr ambassador? He’s supposed to take me to my ship.” Troy was practically bouncing in place while her heart sank like a boulder. Another year apart, and he didn’t seem bothered at all.

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “You say good-bye to Mom and Dad?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. They’re by the punch bowl with Colonel Rutter. You’re supposed to go meet up with them.” Troy grabbed her into a crushing bear hug. “H’aleem, Pepper. That’s L’eihr for good-bye.” Then he turned and disappeared into the crowd. Gone without a care, just like always.

“Love you, too, asshole,” she muttered to herself.

She released a heavy sigh and made her way to the bev­erage table to meet her parents. Even from a distance, she noticed Mom’s eyes were puffy and red, but Mom smiled up at Dad while he caressed her arm and kissed her forehead.

Mom stood on tiptoe and waved to her. “Colonel Rutter went to get our exchange student. Isn’t this exciting?”

“Yeah,” Cara mumbled while chewing her thumbnail. “I can’t wait.”

“Here he comes!” Mom bounced the same way Troy had just done, more excited than a kindergartner at snack time.

It was him, all right. Time for damage control. Pulling her shoulders back, she plastered a confident smile on her face.

Colonel Rutter began the introductions. “Aelyx, I’d like you to meet the Sweeney family: Bill, Eileen, and Cara. Troy Sweeney’s taking your place on L’eihr.”

Aelyx shook Dad’s hand and said something in another language—something beautiful and flowing, like a cross between French and Hawaiian. “It’s an honor,” he translated in English.

“Believe me,” Dad said, practically beaming with pride, “the honor’s mine.”

Next, Aelyx extended his hand to Mom. “Mrs. Sweeney, thank you for opening your home—”

Before he could finish, Mom jumped forward and pulled Aelyx into a hug. Cara noticed his back stiffen for several beats too long before he returned the embrace and gave Mom’s shoulder an awkward pat, pat, pat. Either people on L’eihr didn’t hug, or he found humans repulsive. Probably both.

Finally, he turned to Cara. She offered her hand, and he took it in both of his. While his grasp was warm and strong, there was an eerie vacancy in his gaze, almost robotic. She hadn’t noticed it before, and the last line of HALO’s pamphlet suddenly rang in her ears: He may look human, but he is not. Some long-buried, primal instinct screamed, Danger! but she tightened her grip and resisted the urge to pull her hand free.

“Cah-ra,” he began. His voice was alluring, but his eyes were dead. “Your name is the Irish word for friend. I hope you and I will be great friends.” It sounded rehearsed and completely insincere, almost backhanded in its delivery.

Her palms were sweaty—there was nothing she could do about that—but she was determined not to let her voice shake. Flashing her most diplomatic smile, she replied, “Your name means ‘son of Elyx,’ which doesn’t give me much to work with, but it’s nice to meet you, too.” At his startled response, she added, “Looks like we both did our homework.”

He released her hand, stepped back, and didn’t make eye contact for the rest of the night. It was going to be a long plane ride home the next day. And a very long year.