Entry Visa (The Department of Homeworld Security Book 5)

by Cassandra Chandler

  “It’s an involuntary reaction to being exposed to allergens, bright light, or cold.” Henry recited the definition like he was back in front of his class. “It’s just how the human body clears out its sinus passages and nostrils.”

  Craig glared at Henry for what felt like a long time. He wasn’t sure if he should be trying to make eye contact or avoid it. The last thing he wanted to do was make Craig feel challenged.

  After a few more moments, Craig sat back on the ground. “Sneeze is weird.”

  “Yeah.” Henry stifled another near-hysterical laugh. He didn’t know what might set Craig off.

  “This whole situation is kind of weird to me, too,” Henry continued. “But I promise, I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Craig’s lips twitched up on one side. A smirk? Henry wondered if it meant the same thing to a Lyrian.

  “Not that I could if I tried,” Henry said. “But I wouldn’t try. I’m not that kind of person.”

  “And what kind of person are you?”

  Henry sat up, very slowly. “I’m a biology teacher. I study the lifeforms on my planet and teach children about them.”

  “A noble task.” Craig’s eyebrows rose. He looked sincerely impressed.

  Henry couldn’t keep himself from letting out a little snort of derision. “I wish all the other Earthlings felt that way.” When Craig cocked his head to the side, Henry added, “Many of the people where I’m from don’t actually value teachers much.”

  “That’s foolish,” Craig said.

  “Tell me about it. I’m Henry, by the way. That’s my name.”

  “Henry.”

  They sat on the ground, Craig staring intently at Henry, while Henry did his best to only make occasional eye contact. The ground was freezing, and the cold started to get to him. He pulled his coat around himself more tightly.

  “You lack fur,” Craig said.

  “Yeah. For the most part.” Henry laughed, then ruffled his hair. “I have this, at least.”

  “That is insufficient.”

  “Well, I forgot my hat and scarf at home. And my gloves.” He dropped his hands onto his lap just as his stomach let out a loud gurgle.

  Craig was on him again in an instant, teeth bared as he knocked Henry backward onto the ground.

  “It was just my stomach growling,” Henry yelled.

  Craig kept hovering over Henry, but seemed to relax.

  “Is it angry?” Craig asked.

  “What? No.” Henry let out a little laugh, more relief than amusement. “It means I’m hungry. I sort of forgot to eat breakfast this morning, too.”

  Craig exhaled sharply. “Earthling, where are your parents?”

  Even if Craig wasn’t an alien, he couldn’t have known how his question would hit Henry right in the gut. He almost preferred when the Lyrian was getting in his face. Terror was easier to handle than the weight of his grief.

  When he’d been talking to Vay, it was the first time that Henry had felt anywhere close to normal in as long as he could remember. He’d been careful to avoid the topic of his parents—which was probably part of why he hadn’t learned much about her own upbringing.

  “They died a couple of months ago,” Henry said. “Car accident.”

  Craig’s eyebrows rose again, his jaw going slack so that his mouth hung open. “You’re an orphan?”

  “I guess so, technically. But I’m self-sufficient.”

  “You ventured into a cold environment without proper coverings and neglected to feed yourself.”

  Henry shook his head and laughed. “Well, when you put it like that…” He wished Craig would give him a little more space “I’m dealing with it. I’m twenty-six, I can—”

  “Twenty-six? As in twenty-six Earth solar cycles?”

  “Yes.” Henry didn’t like the way Craig was looking at him. Was that pity? Concern? “Which means I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”

  “Obviously not.” Craig puffed out another breath, looming even closer. He slid two of his arms under Henry’s back and picked him up with no apparent effort.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you someplace warm where there is food.”

  Craig wrapped even more of his arms across Henry’s body, holding him close to his chest. His fur was unbelievably soft and warm. It was like being carried by a giant kitten. A many-armed, bizarrely protective kitten.

  “This isn’t necessary,” Henry said.

  “Of course it isn’t.”

  It might have been Henry’s imagination, but he thought there was a bit of a purring noise coming from Craig’s chest as he spoke. The condescension came through loud and clear, even if it was intended kindly.

  “I’m glad you see it that way.” He waited for Craig to put him down. Instead, the Lyrian kept walking, his stride carrying them quickly through the forest. “Um, Craig?”

  “Yes, Henry?”

  “You can put me down now. Like I said, I can take care of myself.”

  Craig chuckled. “Your mental acuity seems to be suffering. Perhaps you need sleep as well.”

  “I don’t need sleep.”

  If Henry fell asleep—which was never going to happen while he was in the care of an alien—he might miss his time with Vay later. The fact that his mind immediately went to her when he was being carried through the forest by an alien Sasquatch told him how far gone his heart already was.

  “I am a full-grown adult,” Henry said.

  “Nestlings are so cute at this stage. They’ve just grown their first pair of arms and think they can take on the world.”

  “I don’t want to take on the— Wait, did you say first pair of arms?”

  Craig ignored the statement.

  “I’ve been watching you roam around the forest for a while now,” he said. “What were you looking for?”

  Henry let out a defeated sigh. “You.”

  “Well, then. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  Chapter Five

  After another reduced cycle in the regen bed, Vay knew she should be feeling tired. Instead, she was invigorated. She couldn’t wait to peel off her uniform and put on her Earth clothes.

  She’d only brought along the one outfit, though. If she had packed more, it might have raised suspicions. Kira was being a bit overprotective and had checked several times to make sure Vay had everything she needed for the assignment. And Vay wasn’t supposed to leave the ship unless absolutely necessary.

  She was also supposed to be spending her “down time” in the afternoons and evenings going over the data she was collecting both on her nightly patrols and during the stationary scans her ship conducted each day. Technically, she did review everything as soon as she ended her rest cycle. It just didn’t take that long. There hadn’t been any more anomalous readings.

  She grabbed a nutrient brick and sat at the console, staring at the scrolling information. Her stomach rebelled at the once-familiar substance.

  Ari’s warning came back to her with jarring force. She shouldn’t get attached to anything on Earth. They’d have to go back to Sadr-4 eventually—and the space stations, ships, and dome-worlds. Her future was filled with nutrient bricks.

  No more pancakes. No more fuzzy sweaters. No more Christmas lights or fresh air.

  No more Henry.

  Her eyes blurred. She couldn’t even wipe them clear on her uniform. The material was hydrophobic, and would just sort of smear her tears around. Instead, she blinked rapidly until her vision improved.

  Too many of the Sadirian soldiers who had visited Earth were pair-bonding with Earthlings. Even if Henry eventually fell in love with Vay, there was no way to know if she’d be permitted to stay.

  The High Council found it hard to believe that anyone would give up access to their technology to remain on a relatively primitive world, and required an incredible amount of investigation, interviews, and testing to allow it.

  If they granted her request, it would mean her Coalition citizen
ship would be revoked and Vay would be banished to Earth forever. That would be a dream come true. But she had to be honest with herself. It was very unlikely to happen.

  It would be much easier if Henry decided to come with her to live aboard the Arbiter—or wherever else she was stationed. The Coalition could find something for him to do, and they were much more understanding of someone from one of those “primitive planets” wanting to improve their circumstances by bonding with a Coalition citizen.

  Less bureaucracy to navigate, but a much bigger sacrifice. She wouldn’t let Henry give up Earth to be with her—even if his feelings for her ever became strong enough for him to make the offer.

  She pounded on a disposal port to open it, then dropped in the barely-eaten remains of her nutrient brick. At least it wouldn’t be wasted. The tiny shuttle she was using would sterilize and recycle it into her next meal.

  Maybe Henry would offer to cook for her again.

  She should just be happy with the time he was giving her. And she was actually learning so much about Earth’s cultures from talking to him through the game they’d accidentally begun. He thought she was playing along when he spoke to her as if she was from another planet. If only he knew the truth.

  She was sure he wouldn’t freak out if she told him. He would accept her for what she was.

  She hoped.

  Maybe she could convince Kira to request that Vay be permanently reassigned to Earth. Most of the sentient species that the Coalition had discovered were already integrated into their culture. They didn’t need many cultural programmers anymore, which she was actually glad for.

  The High Council usually waited for a planet to have a single, homogenous culture before approaching them about joining the Coalition. They said it made it easier for them to adapt, but Vay knew the truth. It wasn’t about adaptation—it was about conquest. Her predecessors had assisted in the obliteration of countless cultures.

  They’d provided the High Council with reports and ideas on how best to get other sentients to adapt to the ways of the Sadirians, who held most of the power in the galaxy through their much more advanced technology. Surely some of those cultural programmers had hated what they were forced to do as much as Vay did.

  Being assigned to the Arbiter, Vay was able to study the few sentients who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—conform. She provided information on how to help them adapt that was…not exactly helpful. She made sure her data was just good enough to keep her on the Arbiter, but didn’t give the Coalition anything that could actually help them destroy those cultures.

  She didn’t see the harm in preserving other ways of life. Earth was a perfect example, with so many different sub-cultures within each culture even. If they could make that work and actually help each other, which many Earthlings did, surely the Coalition could as well.

  The Antareans, with their intricate hive societies, could teach Sadirians about caring for their communities. Lyrians could teach them about familial bonds, which they formed with a speed and passion that was only matched by their formidable tempers.

  Every sentient had worth. Why couldn’t the High Council see—

  A flashing light finally snapped Vay out of her thoughts. Moons, she knew she had a tendency to get caught up in her own head, but she’d blanked out on screens and screens of data. Luckily, she’d programmed the computer to double-check her work and notify her of anomalies. Like the one blinking on her screen.

  “What is that?” She pulled up the data and looked at the screen more closely.

  Another anomalous reading. It looked like residual energy left from another sort of scan—one she wasn’t familiar with. She compared her earlier readings of the area, fine-tuning the shuttle’s systems to look for that particular signature. They were faint, but she could see a definite pattern.

  Something had conducted a scan in a broad circular area using a technology she wasn’t familiar with—that her ship wasn’t familiar with. And her shuttle was equipped with the most advanced Coalition tech available.

  This was new. It was powerful. And Henry’s cabin was within its field of scrutiny.

  “Crap.”

  There was no time to change into her Earth clothes, and her shuttle was grounded. The area was somewhat remote, but popular with campers and hikers. She couldn’t risk her ship being detected. If she took off in the middle of the day—cloak or no—Kira would pull her back to headquarters immediately.

  Vay wanted to grab a phase rifle to take along, but there were too many unknowns. If she dropped it or someone managed to take it from her, everyone would be pulled from the Earth assignment and Serath’s chances of getting the First Contact committee recognized would be ruined.

  Her wristband had a built in weapon as well as a shield. It would have to be enough.

  She hit the control to close her helmet. The segments clicked rapidly into place, then fused. For a split second, the opaque metal left her in complete darkness, but then the internal screens flickered to life, giving her a view of her surroundings along with additional readouts and her uniform’s functional levels.

  Within moments, she was outside in the forest, running toward Henry’s cabin. She would make a quick pass to confirm that everything seemed okay, taking care that he didn’t see her in her uniform, then investigate more of the scan area she’d detected.

  “Activate bio-sensor.”

  A grid appeared in her field of vision—tiny specks of light showing her where small animals were located outside. If anything bigger drew near, her uniform would warn her before she was close enough to be seen or heard.

  “Everything’s going to be fine,” she said. “Henry is fine.”

  He had to be.

  Chapter Six

  “If you’ve been watching me all this time, how did I never notice you?” Henry couldn’t believe he was adjusting to being carried by a giant fur-covered alien. “You’re not exactly inconspicuous.”

  Craig chuckled. “Lyrians are masters of disguise. Our coats can change to match our environment, see?”

  He seemed to disappear into thin air as Henry watched. He felt Craig’s fur ripple where they touched, and could see a vague outline where he knew Craig was, but that was it. After a few seconds, Craig became opaque again.

  “How did you do that?” Henry said.

  “My spines are able to bend light. It’s useful for eluding capture, but makes more sentients interested in catching us.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We don’t have to be in our skins for our spines to work. Our pelts can be made into the ultimate camouflage uniforms.”

  Henry was stunned. His stomach started to cramp up as he thought of the implications. “I can’t even imagine someone being capable of doing that. Are you safe on Earth?”

  “I appreciate your concern.” Craig glanced down at him and smiled, that small purring sound rumbling in his chest again. “We’re as safe here as anywhere in the galaxy.”

  “Wait… We?”

  “My mate, Barbara, is here as well.”

  “Craig and Barbara?” Henry laughed. “How do you have such ordinary names?”

  “Our language isn’t biologically compatible with your species.”

  “As in, our anatomy can’t pronounce it?”

  Craig snorted. “More like, if exposed to it for prolonged periods of time, your eardrums might rupture. Plus, it tends to carry, and would make us easier to detect. We selected Earth names to use for the duration of our mission.”

  “That’s…great.”

  Henry had so many questions. About their physiology, where they were from, what life was like on their planet—and on others, if they knew about them. But there was one answer he needed before he satisfied his scientific curiosity.

  “What is your mission on Earth?”

  “Don’t worry, we’re here as collectors, not conquerors.”

  “I’d feel a lot better about that if you weren’t carrying me to an undisclosed location.”

&n
bsp; Craig laughed, a loud, rumbling sound that made Henry smile despite his worry.

  “We’re collecting seeds. Once we have enough that can be modified to fit in with various ecosystems, we’ll replicate them in our lab so we can distribute them to those in need. It won’t negatively impact Earth in the slightest, and will greatly improve living conditions for several sentient species who have been victimized by the Sadirians.” He sneered as he said the word.

  “You mentioned them before. I take it you don’t like them very much.”

  “They are evil, Henry. All they care about is control. They come in offering technology that can improve life for everyone on a planet—at a price. They start small, making trades that seem completely reasonable. But once the sentients are addicted to their technology and think that’s all they need to survive, the Sadirians strip the planet of resources. The population becomes completely dependent on them for survival.”

  Henry shivered. He wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the idea of such a cruel civilization.

  “Don’t worry, nestling,” Craig said. “We’re well hidden from the Sadirians who are on Earth.”

  “I’m not a nes— Wait, did you say ‘on Earth’? As in, there are Sadirians on Earth right now?”

  “Among others.”

  “Others…”

  Henry was having trouble wrapping his mind around the concept of Earth being filled with different kinds of extraterrestrials. How many cryptids might actually be from other planets? How many were threats?

  “The Sadirians aren’t invading, are they?” he asked. “Or planning to offer Earth their technology?”

  He had no illusions about Earth’s ability to resist such an offer. Human greed was already damaging the planet. If the Sadirians were everything Craig said they were, they would only make things worse.

  “Honestly, I’m not sure,” he said. “But Barbara and I will protect you. Don’t worry.”

  Before Henry could yet again explain that he didn’t need to be protected and could take care of himself, the forest around them vanished. It just disappeared, replaced with smooth walls made of some sort of greenish metal. Lights blinked here and there, and he could hear the hum of machinery around him.