Page 16 of Invasive Species
“Sorry, gang.” I sigh. “You won’t get the five-star treatment with me.”
“Whatever that is, we’re not worthy of it,” Dom says,shoveling the eggs into his mouth. He keeps a wary eye on Gara, as if he expects him to say something scandalous.
These guys have an interesting dynamic. “So, uh… tell me about your planet.”
Gara chews a mouthful slowly, then swallows. “What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know, the basics. Big? Round?”
Arture speaks for the first time. “Approximately one point six times the radius of this planet, according to my calculations. It’s an oblate spheroid.”
Fuck, I have no idea what he just said. “Cool. Nice weather?”
“Drier than here,” Gara mutters. “Which reminds me, Arture, I need to add protective layers to your mechanical arm.”
The pilot’s right arm is a shiny mass of metal pipes and tubes with glittery rings on them, like a pile of bangles. He flexes it with a quiet creak, and Gara scowls like it just insulted his mother.
“Do you ever smile?” I ask him before I can stop myself.
He turns that scowl toward me. “When the occasion calls for it, perhaps.”
I lean in too close, grinning. “You know, science says smiling releases happy chemicals. We could test it out. Together. Right now.”
Continuing to survey me as the new species I am to him, he lets out a huge, long-suffering sigh, and slowly tips his lips up at the edges. It doesn’t start as a real smile, but as he looks at me, warmth floods into his glowing green eyes.
“That’s right.” And then, like an idiot, I reach out and ruffle his hair.
He jerks back from me but then jerks to a halt, like he’s forcing himself to stay still.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I sometimes have impulsive urges, butthat’s not an excuse.” I can’t help it, but a proper apology always works better to fix things when I react without thinking.
And Gara’s gaze turns molten. If I thought he hated me before, well, that’s nothing compared to now.
SIX
GARA
She apologized.
Apologized. To me.
All night I replay her actions. How she reached out possessively, shaking her tiny fingers through my hair, then pulling back with her pale face full of honest contrition. The word ‘sorry’ tumbled from her lips, full of sincerity. And she didn’t repeat the action.
What does it mean? I toss and turn all night. What benefit did apologizing to me give her?
As the rain eases, I give up on rest. The damp gravel of the courtyard glistens under the moonlight, reflecting in puddles like molten silver betrillium. Cold air clings to my scales, condensing into liquid which trickles down my body. The moisture in the air must be destroying the delicate machinery of Arture's replacement arm and eye.
I walk out to join Dom, currently on patrol. Silence wraps around us now that the rain has stopped, a rare moment of utter stillness as even the feathered lizards sleep inside their barracks. This place is nothing like Oloria—there, the airripples with dry heat and dust hangs in the wind like a shimmering projection. My lungs breathe easier here, my memory of the burnt smell of sunbaked stone slowly being eroded by the rich, sodden weight of the soil and grass.
Dom doesn't greet me as I approach, instead pointing wordlessly to the single light burning in the farmhouse. Is Arra-bellah still awake?
“You need to agree to everything the tiny female says,” Dom growls, straight into business. “You ask too many questions.”
“They're clarifications,” I try. “I need to get to the exact requirements.”
Dom squares up to me. “Nevare can hear your thoughts, Gara. If I direct him toward you, what will he find?”
My scales stiffen so hard they're nearly spikes. The Parthiastock Apex will most likely hear my disgust for those who made us and didn't care for us afterward. “He'll find I'm trying my best to navigate us through this, to make decisions to keep us alive, to?—”
