I scrabbled for my voice. “I have to. This is an emergency situation, Isabel. Dad’s prepared to accuse OCI of breaking the rules of engagement—”
“Tell everybody I snuck out to meet some friends in the village. They’ll accept that.” Isabel peered down at me. “Just don’t tell Dad about the Divested.”
“These things are trying to kill us!”
“They aren’t things,” she murmured. “And I told you, I stopped them.” She looked up at me, eyes pleading. “Don’t tell Dad about them. Please. He’ll only make it worse.”
She wants to save us all, I thought, and my heart twisted, and I was terrified but at the same time swollen with love for my sister, and I knew I believed her.
“Doesn’t he already know about them?” I said carefully.
She stared at me for a long time. Then she said, “He only knows pieces. He doesn’t know about their home. He can’t get to them. He’s tried, but it never works.”
Despite the wash of fear, I felt a little thrill inside my chest: I knew something Dad didn’t.
“I’ll do what I can,” I said.
• • •
The war continued for the next week, a series of battles I watched, tense and shaking, from a locked room inside the laboratory. It was easier when the Andromeda Corps wasn’t fighting.
I did not tell Dad about the alien or its home.
I thought about the alien constantly: the sharp, cold, inhuman face, the flicker of movement on the air. And Isabel. I don’t want you to die. In the moment, sitting out there in the balmy night, I’d believed her, but in the days since she had not spoken to me once, only given me fitful, frightened glances as we passed each other in the hallway. And every time, I was reminded that a part of her was like that creature I had seen in the shadows. A creature that was willing to kill us to get its home back.
One morning while I was working in the office, I thought suddenly of Rena, her body sprawled out on the lawn, blood soaking into the grass. Dad had passed her death off as anti-corporactic terrorists, but no one actually believed that. But now there was an answer. An answer that Isabel said was her family.
It made me sick to think about.
I kept my promise to Isabel and did not tell Dad what I’d seen. But I didn’t sit by and do nothing, either. I asked the other Ninety-Nines about the aliens, if there were any still alive for us to study. And I learned that were no aliens in captivity at the Coromina Group. “We’ve never been able to catch one,” Flor told me over lunch, her eyes glittering, “but that would be a coup, wouldn’t it?” She sighed and gazed dreamily off into the distance. “We just don’t know where they’re hiding. That sister of yours knows. And maybe after the war—”
Her voice trailed off, and I picked at my salad, trying to look nonchalant. Ignorant. Uninterested.
“They’re a danger, you know,” Flor said carefully. “To the Four Sisters.”
I looked up at her, perhaps too sharply. She smiled, took a sip of her drink. Of course they were a danger. They had unleashed a virus that had wiped out entire villages. Even Isabel knew they were dangerous, and it occurred to me that even though I wasn’t going to reveal Isabel’s secret to the company, I would have to find a way to keep the people of the Four Sisters safe. The thought made my stomach twist around, because what options were there?
I gathered any information I could about the aliens and kept it close to my chest. I worked on my assignments preparing for the war. But I did not try to speak to Isabel. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I would protect her from Dad; I would keep the promise I had made all those years before. But whenever I saw her, I got a flash of the alien in my head, and I didn’t know what to think.
It wasn’t long after I’d learned all I could about the aliens from the other Ninety-Nines that the Coromina Group scored another major victory with the R-Troops, a near-annihilation of the OCI battalion sent to fight them. They were getting better—adapting, I had learned, to the OCI’s training tactics.
The post-battle meeting was as exuberant as I expected, with bottles of expensive whiskey being passed around among the Ninety-Nines. I sat in my usual place, behind Dad and to his left, and folded my hands demurely in my lap as the celebration unfolded. I wasn’t stupid enough to get drunk in a room full of Ninety-Nines, especially when I had the threat of the aliens locked away inside my head. Liquor made it easier to break promises.
Dad, too, sat at his usual seat, and while he sipped at his whiskey and clinked his glass against the toasts of others, he didn’t join in with their excited CG chants. Father and daughter, observing the party. I suspected it was for different reasons.
“Order!” Dad called out after half an hour of revelry. The Ninety-Nines quieted down and slid into their seats, although they still leaned over and whispered excitedly to each other, whiskey sloshing in the glasses.
Dad stood up, and I felt a tension at the back of my throat. Something was different here. This wasn’t an ordinary post-battle meeting.
“That was incredible to watch,” Dad said, and he paced around the table, moving in a wide, slow circle. The Ninety-Nines’ gazes followed him around the room. “Your work has surpassed my expectations.”
A delighted murmur rose up from the Ninety-Nines. I didn’t move. What’s coming, what’s coming. I had learned to hate surprises.
Dad stopped beside a big window that looked out over the jungle. During the day, you could see the tops of trees swaying in the wind, but it was nighttime now, and the glass was a black mirror. Dad gazed out across the table, taking in all the Ninety-Nines. My heart pumped.
“It’s time,” he said.
A gasp rose up from the table, and then, immediately, excited chatter. I didn’t understand. Time for what? Why hadn’t I been informed? Was this some attempt to undermine me?
Dad lifted his hands to quiet down the Ninety-Nines. “I want us to go public as soon as possible. I knew we talked about waiting until the war was over, but I think the Four Sisters will do well with the added morale. Too many citizens are still attempting to get offworld, even with the danger of travel.” Dad shook his head. “We need to show them what the Coromina Group can do.”
“But won’t it open us up to espionage?” Flor tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “That was how this whole thing started.”
“Let them try,” Dad said. “That data’s protected by the R-Troops themselves.”
The Ninety-Nines murmured to each other. I couldn’t see Flor’s expression from where I sat, but I imagined her frowning, mouth pinched like she’d bitten into a lemon.
“We’re winning the war,” Dad went on. “I’ve already been getting calls from unaffiliated militaries asking how we’re doing it. Let people see the R-Troops. Let them understand. That way, there will be no way for them to dismiss the R-Troop’s victories as some Alvatech fluke.”
Dad let the words settle over the room. Excitement buzzed on the air. And I only felt relieved. This was an expected maneuver—I would never have thought Dad would keep the R-Troops to himself until after the war. The risk of this was the real beauty of it. I knew Dad didn’t give a shit about civilian morale, and the idea that the R-Troops could be mistaken for even the most elaborate engineered military was absurd. But Dad knew if he could reveal the troops before we’d won, he was showing faith in his product. It was one thing to reveal a new super soldier after the war was finished and OCI had either slunk off to lick its wounds or been incorporated into the CG. It was another to do it now, when a total victory wasn’t assured.
“The newsfeeds will be talking about this battle for weeks,” Dad said. “And we want to capitalize on that chatter.”
“How do you want to do it?” It was one of the older Ninety-Nines, Frank. “And where?”
Dad grinned. “Bait and switch,” he said. “A party celebrating the battle’s win—that’ll get the gossipfeeds in a frenzy. And then we march out the soldiers.” He gestured widely with one hand. “They’ll be talking about it in
every inhabited system within four hours; I guarantee it. The jump-ships won’t be able to jump the news fast enough.”
The Ninety-Nines were excited again. Their voices rang out around the room. I watched Dad over the tops of their heads as they leaned across the table to speak to each other. He caught my eye and smiled.
• • •
The next day, I did not go to the office but instead told John that I would be working from home. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence, certainly not since the war started—it was safer to work from the estate, since it housed civilians, who could not legally be killed by OCI bombs. The main Coromina Group campus was perhaps not the most ethical target, but it wasn’t banned completely, and during times of high security, it was better for me to work from my suite at home. Except I wasn’t going to be working, either.
I had been waiting for a message from my mother for over a week, ever since I saw the aliens. She had been the first person I contacted after I had my encounter, when I was confused and terrified and had no idea what to do. I need to speak with you, I’d said, the holorecorder set so that it only recorded my face and shoulder. Out of view, my hands were fidgeting with anxiety. It’s important. Let me know when you’re back planetside.
Alone, the message was innocuous enough, even during wartime. One search of the files would reveal her to be my mother, and messages like this were monitored by Alvatech, not the Ninety-Nines. No one should make any connections between this and my questions about aliens. I hoped.
My mother’s response had finally come the previous night. It had been almost three in the morning when my lightbox woke me up with its bright holographic light, a mechanized voice chirping that I had a message coming through the CG Connectivity. “Esme?” Harriet had said when I’d answered. Behind her I could see the barracks of the Ekkeko military compound. She was planetside, one of the squadrons who would be attending the party in three days’ time. Most important, though, she was safe. That had been my first thought. Nothing about aliens or about questions. Just that my mother was alive.
I didn’t dare ask her about the aliens over the Connectivity, so we arranged to meet on the public beach, down in the village. I pulled on hiking boots and civilian clothes and slipped out of my room and went downstairs. The staff were cleaning house, as if everything were normal and we were not at war. I smiled at Alicia, who was running a duster over the banister.
“I’m going for a walk,” I told her. “I need to clear my head. If there’s an emergency, you can contact me. Otherwise, I don’t want to be disturbed.”
“I’ll pass the word along,” she said, and the banister gleamed.
I forced myself to stay calm as I stepped outside and into the bright sun, already hot for the day. I strode over the lawn, arms swinging, head high, like I had every right to be there. And why didn’t I? Star’s End was my home. We did not have a battle today. The preparations for the unveiling of the R-Troops weren’t yet in full force. I could have this moment.
I followed the main road down to the beach. As it wound closer to the woods, my chest tightened. The trees swayed in the wind, the rustle of their leaves a sweeping, majestic sound. And I saw nothing unusual. No long-limbed figures moving through the shadows. No secret rooms that should not exist.
Still, once I was clear of the woods, I breathed a deep sigh of relief.
It took me fifteen minutes to get down to the public beach, and although I hadn’t walked this way in some time, the path came back to me easily. I thought about all those trips to see Laila and Paco, and a string of sadness wrapped itself around my heart. Paco was gone, and whoever Laila was now didn’t matter. I had become the sort of person she loathed.
I felt the ocean before I saw it, a salty dampness coating my skin. The path crested up over the dunes and there was the beach, a long, empty strip of pale sand. The water glittered. A single figure was out there, sitting right at the shoreline, her short gray hair ruffling in the wind.
I took a deep breath. I wished I had some better reason to see my mother. Something that didn’t terrify me to my very core.
I picked my way across the sand until I was standing beside her. The waves rolled in, casting pale foam over the toes of my boots.
“What’s up?” Harriet said, still gazing out at the water.
I didn’t know how to start, and so I didn’t answer. Harriet tilted her face toward me, shading her eyes against the sun’s glare with one hand. “You brought me all the way out here; it’s gotta be something important.” She paused. “Something you don’t want the company knowing.”
I sighed. I should have known someone like her, an old merc who’d been in the business since before I was born, would know the tricks. I sat down in the sand beside her. The waves rushed up to greet me.
“Your mission,” I said. “When you first met Dad. What was it?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
“I’m a Ninety-Nine now.”
It still felt strange to say it aloud, as if I were lying. Harriet swung her head around and gaped.
“Are you shitting me?” she said.
I shook my head. “You can scan me if you want, although I’d prefer you didn’t. You’re right. I don’t want Dad knowing we’re talking about this.”
Harriet turned her gaze back to the sea. “Don’t have a scanner, anyway.”
I waited, but she didn’t offer anything more. The waves splashed around my thighs, dampening my clothes. It took a few moments before I realized she really wasn’t going to tell me. Soldier first, I thought. Mother second.
“I saw something,” I said. “In the woods. The night I messaged you. I—I think you might have seen the same thing when you were here.”
Harriet closed her eyes. She looked very old in the sunlight, her skin crinkly and thin.
“You can’t imagine what I saw,” she said softly.
My face got hot. This wasn’t how I imagined this conversation to go—except I realized, with a start, that I hadn’t actually known how this conversation would go. I had contacted Harriet out of desperation, before I’d had the chance to fully consider what I’d seen. It was a gut reaction. A little girl reaching out to her mother.
“Something lived here before we did,” I said, pitching my voice low so that it would be covered up by the wind. I kept my gaze on Harriet, prepared to shift my tactic if she gave anything away. She sat perfectly still. “And they still live here. I saw one.”
Harriet’s spine straightened.
“You were helping get rid of them, weren’t you?” I whispered. “That was your mission.”
Harriet blinked. Not just a blink—she was crying. I could see the tears shimmering on her skin. My stomach flopped around. I couldn’t imagine a woman like Harriet crying.
She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, a quick, furious motion. “Shit,” she said, and shook her head. “Shit.”
“I just want to know what happened,” I said. “I just—” I was too ashamed to bring up Isabel. “There’s this whole civilization on the estate and I had no concept of it until a week ago. And I don’t know what to do with this.” I waved my hand around. “This information.”
Harriet gave a sharp laugh. “Philip’s got you trained in the business; that’s for damn sure.”
Her words stung.
“You mean you aren’t taking it to the newsfeeds?” she said. “That’s what anyone else would do. It’s the fucking scientific discovery of the millennium, and we’re talking about it in whispers on a beach.”
I glared at her. “You don’t tell anyone either.”
“I was under orders.” She looked at me. “And I wasn’t supposed to see them, anyway. I was part of the support crew. Didn’t go into the field. But a whole squad got killed and the sergeant sent me in as backup. They weren’t at Star’s End. I’m guessing that’s where you saw the thing.”
I nodded, my skin cold.
“We fought ’em on the Awa Islands. It was impossible to get a good
look at ’em. They were practically invisible. Stuff of nightmares.” She stared out at the ocean. “They’d been hiding; that was the theory. Talk among the soldiers, you know. Hiding since the terraforming two hundred years ago. Finally starting to peek their way out.”
I felt cold. “You mean they didn’t attack?”
Harriet shook her head. “The company wanted them contained. Looked bad. Plus, it was illegal, him terraforming a planet that already had life. We all had to sign a nondisclosure clause before we took the job, a more elaborate one than they usually do.” Harriet glanced over at me. “Your father was up to something back then. You bet your ass he’d known about those things from the beginning. He would have gone on landing missions during the terraforming. He saw that shit up close. And he terraformed anyway.”
Harriet’s voice turned hard and cold on that last sentence.
“I was young,” she said. “I didn’t want to do any of it. But I knew I had to follow orders if I wanted a career in the militaries.” She laughed, short and bitter. “I found out what he was up to after I fucked him. When I learned about you—God, it made me sick, but I didn’t have a choice, did I?” She pinched her forehead, her gaze cast down at the sand. “I should have left the military and raised you myself. I should have stopped him. Should have taken the intel public.”
Sadness swelled up inside me. He’d done the same thing to her. He’d let her carry the weight of his guilt.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I said, and I put my hand on her shoulder. She shook her head. “It wasn’t. He made the decision, not you.”
Hesitantly, I pushed my arm along Harriet’s shoulder until I had her embraced in an awkward half-hug. This was what my father did. He left a trail of misery in his wake.
“I’m glad they’re still there,” Harriet whispered. “How fucked is that?”
“Not fucked at all,” I said, but I thought of Isabel telling me that she didn’t want me to die.
• • •
Dad had always hated parties, but he and the rest of the Ninety-Nines were able to pull one together in three days. One afternoon, Mr. Whittaker simply announced to the staff and to my sisters that Star’s End would be hosting a party.
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