by LC Morgans
“Not yet,” she lied. “I’m majoring in computer and technological science, but am planning on talking to the sector representatives at the school fair tomorrow. They’ll help me choose, but I believe my grades and reports are good enough to pursue that route.” The teacher seemed impressed at her skills, and smiled across at her again with renewed interest. Kyra knew she was different to many of the other foster kids, and while she hated being stereotyped, it was always fun to have an opportunity to show people like Mrs. Forrest just how wrong they were to look down their noses at the unfortunates of their new world. They could be whatever they wanted, and she intended to follow her dreams with a clear head and an ambitious heart, regardless of where society had placed her after Invasion Day.
They soon wrapped up their discussion, and Kyra was signed off from her community service quota. She hugged and bid the children goodbye, knowing it would be a while, if ever, that she’d see any of them again. Coming to the end of her schooling was turning out to be rather bittersweet, but she was ready for the next challenge the world had to offer her.
Despite how she’d answered the teacher’s question, Kyra already knew exactly which sector she was planning to join. She’d known ever since that night on the rooftop terrace thirteen years ago that she wanted to serve King Kronus in whatever way she could. She hadn’t cared that as a result of the invasion she’d lost both of her parents. Her dad had been a drunk and her mom was a mess held together with borrowed makeup and a steady stream of black market substances. Together they’d contributed nothing to society, only sponged off it, and their small squat of a home had said it all. They had no money for food or nice things, and Kyra remembered having to beg her cousins to swipe food from her working aunt’s kitchen. She’d lost them in the invasion too, and still missed the only bit of kindness she’d known over those first few years of life. She wanted to forget them all, but the memories often haunted her dreams as a constant reminder of all that’d been lost. In some ways, Kyra wanted this new life to be the only one she knew, and she envied the youngsters of today for not having to remember how bad the world had become before the Thrakorian’s came.
Humans had used up every natural resource and abused the world with landfill sites and overcrowding for hundreds of years. The Thrakorian’s had killed millions of humans in their quest for world domination, and those who’d surrendered were treated with kindness, but it was only if they were ready to work for their food and shelter. Everybody contributed in one way or another, and Kyra had often watched in awe as each sector went about their business without money, power or greed influencing them or their decisions. There were still bars filled with drunks, but they were spending their hard-earned credits on their after work drink, so Kyra had never judged them the way she’d judged her father. She often wondered if he would’ve even fit into the world as it was now, or would he have joined the rebels and fought the new regime? She doubted that either, as he wasn’t the most active of men from what she could remember. Unless it was chasing Kyra’s mother across the room to deliver her a beating, he usually stayed in his dingy old chair all day long.
Kyra had shaken off her melancholy by the time she reached the foster home in one of the most built-up areas of downtown Los Angeles, and headed straight for her shared bedroom at the back of the cold building. After she’d tidied away her school things, she grabbed her computer and continued her research into the current rules and regulations of the Human Royal Armed Forces. Kyra had been preparing for years and was more than ready for the physical challenges involved in the training. Running miles upon miles was no bother now, even with weights on her back. She’d learned to fight well by the time she was ten years old, and mastered self-defense two years later in time for her body to start changing. Now at eighteen, she was stronger than most girls her age, and was grateful for having had a solid right hook whenever needed over the years.
Unlike Kyra, most of her peers weren’t ambitious or talented enough to strive for more. Many of the foster kids were headed into the lower sectors, it was just how it worked, but she’d used her intellect to her advantage and pushed herself all the way through school. It’d paid off, and she was now top of her class in many of the computer sciences and other skills needed for a mid-sector role in the army. All Kyra had to do was get through primary training, shine in secondary phase, and she was sure she’d get selected for the Intelligence Division. There she’d earn enough credits to have a comfortable existence, while living out the rest of her life without having to look over her shoulder for the foster boys and their wandering hands or threatening stares. Many times over the years she’d had to sacrifice a meal to appease a bully, and she so looked forward to leaving that life behind.
The next morning’s early alarm rang quietly beside her ear, and Kyra was up and off in a heartbeat. She ran a quick ten miles and was back in plenty of time for an early shower. As was her duty within the household, she then prepared breakfast for her dorm, and then ate a quick bite before catching the old train that would take her directly to school. Modern technology was a marvel, but traditional methods of transport were still used in the older parts of Los Angeles. Many original buildings still stood as landmarks across the city, while those that’d been destroyed were replaced by brand new designs, and with every new gadget known to man or Thrak. As she did every day, she watched out the window, and loved seeing the view of the dingy estate change to the business sector skyscrapers, and then reached their school.
Kyra had always loved going there. It was open, airy and light, and it didn’t have the musty, damp smell of the old world. The Thrakorian’s had built the school as a gift to the humans ten years before, and she’d treasured everyday spent within its walls. She knew she’d miss it when she graduated, but still not enough to consider joining the educational sector.
She took a spot at the end of the queue heading into the main hall, where the careers fair was already going on inside. Kyra knew where she was going, and headed straight for the corner dominated with posters for the Human Royal Armed Forces, and browsed the brochures inside. Insignias for each division were all around her, and already she felt at home and ready to move on.
“You lost, little lady?” a deep voice asked from behind her, and Kyra turned to greet the owner with a forced smile. She got this all the time, thanks to her height of only five-feet-five, and knew exactly how to deal with it. She’d always followed the ‘do no harm but take no crap,’ mantra to life, and had developed a fun attitude alongside it over the years.
“No, but I was hoping you might find me a stool or something to stand on, these tables are awfully high.” The soldier burst into laughter, smirked and nodded in acceptance of her clever retort. “Kyra Millan, pleasure to meet you.” She reached out her hand and he shook it, eyeing her with surprise.
“Sergeant McDermott,” he replied. “Have you found something here you like?”
“Yep, Intelligence Division,” Kyra said, pulling out her glasses in order to have a better look at the pamphlet in her hand.
“A geek, I should’ve known,” the Sergeant rolled his eyes and shook his head a bit too dismissively for her liking. “You’ve got to get through a grueling few years of training first. This isn’t the easy way into the science sector, you know?”
“I know full well what this is, and isn’t. I want this,” Kyra said as she looked around at the pictures of soldiers in their black uniforms with blue emblems signifying their division. She then reached out and stroked the lapel on the front of his jacket that indicated his rank. “I want to serve, and I’m not afraid of hard work. I’m ready to be a soldier first and a geek second.”
Sgt. McDermott grabbed her hand and inspected the scars on her arm. “Have you been in battle before? Because I guarantee this will be nothing like the street-brawls between kids, or Invasion Day. You will be pushed to your physical and mental limits, and had better be ready to get up and ask for more, otherwise you will fail.” Kyra pulled her hand back, breaking t
he contact.
“Well I’d better make sure I don’t fail then,” she said with a sure smile. “When does recruiting begin?” she then asked, looking around at the other soldiers who were all talking with the jocks and other burly students that clearly suited their mold better than she. She didn’t care if they thought she might not fit in, proving wrong anyone who doubted her had been a habit of hers all through high school, so why should she change it now?
“Where do you live?” he asked, flipping through the pages in his handbook.
“Old-town, Violet Street.”
“The foster homes. Got it.” He nodded, seeming to understand her drive at last. Most of the middle or upper-class sectors looked down on the kids from the more deprived areas. Their survival relied solely on the credit handouts from Kronus’ new government, and it was seen by many of the wealthy as a charitable donation to offer up the scraps from their table to the poor little orphans. The very idea made her want to scream, but instead she accepted the handouts like all the rest—out of necessity. Kyra shrugged off his remark. She was a poor little orphan. Her family hadn’t been well-off before the invasion, so she knew there was no reason why she would’ve been wealthier after without parents to work and make them so. All she had was herself, and that was fine.
He studied the chart and looked back up to meet her gaze. “August fourth. You’ve got a few weeks to change your mind, but if not I guess I’ll see you then.” Sgt. McDermott gave her another cheeky smile, and then turned to talk with the next visitor to their stand.
Kyra watched him go and hoped she’d see him again. There was no doubt about it; he was hot, probably in his mid-twenties and clearly fit and healthy. She found herself wondering how toned that chest was she just had her hand over when she’d touched his lapel, and walked off before she was caught watching that cute ass of his walking away.
Chapter
Two
Kyra graduated a few days later with top marks in all of her classes. She was offered a meeting with the guidance counselor regarding her choices, but knew she was in no position to carry on with her education without a scholarship, and they were almost impossible to come by. It was expected she at least entertain the conversation for a while, so she sat listening politely while the man droned on about the various sectors and opportunities each held, as though she hadn’t already researched them to death. Joining the Human Royal Armed Forces was not just a dream she hoped might come true. She was going to make it happen, so humored him with her attention before heading off to her final class assembly. Their graduation ceremony was later that afternoon, and all of the students were gathered around the vast hall, where they chatted excitedly and awaited the call to line up to receive their diplomas. Kyra found her small group of friends and joined them, greeting each of her fellow computer and technological science students before turning her attention to the tall girl beside her.
Samia, her best friend and part Thrakorian, was heading straight to college. The human schools were separate from the Thraks’, not that there were many, but mixed-heritage children attended the human schools to show unity. Her family was more than taken care of by their new government, and her parents had funded Samia’s lavish lifestyle without a care for credits or indulgences. They had even ensured she had a wealthy future laid out before her, but Kyra couldn't begrudge her the easy road. She’d been the best friend she could’ve ever wanted, and knew she and Samia would miss each other once she disappeared off with the army truck in a couple weeks time.
“You good?” she asked, peering up at her hugely tall friend. She knew Samia had just had her own meeting with a Thrakorian representative, and that the opportunities afforded to her were plentiful in comparison to the meager roads humans were offered.
“Yep, same old speech about how proud they are of me. He said the recommendation for inclusion in the advanced science group has been accepted, but my father already told me.” Kyra’s eyes widened with pride in her friend’s accomplishment, but knew she was playing it down on purpose for her benefit. Being accepted into the advanced sciences program was a big deal, and almost certainly meant Samia would go far. She was getting everything she’d ever wanted, and Kyra could see through her relaxed demeanor.
“Don’t be so modest, you deserve this. You earned it off your own back too,” she whispered back, and Samia flushed. There were so many ways she seemed human, and it was easy to forget that an entirely different blood ran in her veins. Full-blooded Thrakorian's didn’t associate much with humans, so Kyra hadn’t had the chance to figure out their mannerisms or ways, but she knew her friend well, and had picked up a lot over the years.
Samia had told her a little about her family and the extraterrestrial community, but only what she could without getting into trouble. Her human great-grandmother had given birth to a half-Thrakorian child after falling in love with a reconnaissance soldier, and the bloodline had been kept pure with careful breeding ever since. Samia and her siblings were the youngest of an ancient lineage that could be traced back to the high-society men and women still atop the governing bodies back on their home planet, Thrakor, and had been well taken care of.
Like hers, many powerful and wealthy human families of the old world had revealed themselves to be part Thrakorian since Invasion Day. Most of them had run parliaments or even entire countries as Kings and Queens pending their willing abdication once King Kronus seized power. There had been others who oversaw the armies and other industries of old in preparation for the extraterrestrial incursion, and they too did their part to ensure an easy victory for the Thrakorian’s. Their technology and experience of war was far more advanced than the human’s, but from Samia’s stories Kyra learned how they could’ve taken control easily regardless. Having the help of their men and women already planted around the globe in positions of power was evidently a mere tactical advantage should it have been necessary.
Samia’s family and all the other half-breeds had then stepped up to their given place beneath King Kronus when he’d taken power, and the humans who’d surrendered fell in line beneath their control, or else became martyrs to their rebellious cause. Humans hadn’t stood a chance, though. After years of abusing their planet, draining its resources and overpopulating it, even Kyra knew the invasion must've been pretty easy. Even she could remember how it was only a matter of days before they were worshipping their new leader, and peace had come quickly once rules were in place.
Her half-breed friend had also told Kyra more of how the Thrakorian’s had been establishing their place on Earth way before invading. Reconnaissance missions had gone on for centuries, and had resulted in many of the half-breed families now prevalent in their new society. Many of the Thrakorian men and women had stayed on Earth to be with their offspring, and many had even settled down and married their lovers. It seemed like a strange sort of fairytale, but with aliens and spaceships rather than knights on horseback, and she often found herself wondering what it must be like in Samia’s world. It was undoubtedly a very different one to hers.
Looking up at her impressive frame, Kyra was reminded of how she’d once wondered if her mixed blood was how Samia had become so tall, and she’d confirmed it by telling her it was one of the Thrakorian traits that was often passed on. They looked no different to humans, but underneath they had differences on a cellular level. As well as being taller, their bodies also regenerated at a faster rate, and she’d never seen Samia with a cut of bruise that lasted more than a few minutes. The same cellular regeneration also caused them to age much slower—typically one year to every ten human in a full-blooded Thrak. Those with mixed bloodlines added a few years to their lives, but not enough to have gotten themselves noticed for it before. When they’d revealed their true bloodlines and become the highest class in the new society, no one would dare ask questions, and that seemed to be how they liked it.
Thrakorian’s were also much more muscly, and broader than humans, especially the men. Kyra always remembered peering up at the i
ncredibly tall King who’d taken her hand and led her to safety on Invasion Day, but had wondered at first if he’d just seemed so big in comparison to her tiny and malnourished body. After watching him give a speech on television years afterward, she knew otherwise. Kronus had to be at least eight feet tall, and his shoulders seemed to span double that of a human man. Even now he looked exactly the same as he had back then, and Kyra knew he’d still be as intimidatingly tall if she met him again now. During his last televised speech regarding an overhaul of the credit system for teens, she’d marveled at how Kronus hadn’t seemed to age a single day since she’d watched him step off that hovercraft, and she often wondered about him. Was he the same, kind man he’d once been? Or had years of sculpting the human race into a workforce worth more to him than just pets in his personal playground hardened him? Kyra guessed she’d never find out. He didn’t make social visits or check in on the humans across the globe. In fact, she had no idea if he ever even set foot off the private island he resided in somewhere between England and France. Kronus was a face on the broadcasts and in his propaganda, but his orders were passed down via his Guard Service, their workforce, and the sectors beneath, never in person.
The only full-blooded Thrakorian she’d ever interacted regularly with took the stage—their school principal, Marta Mayne. She was a stunning woman, who looked to be in her fifties, however Kyra knew she must be more like five hundred years old if Samia’s explanation of their slow aging was correct. Marta had been a good headmistress, but a firm one. She’d upheld every rule and regulation without ever blurring the lines or making allowances for any of her students, and the school had thrived under her tutelage. Kyra had never been in enough trouble that she’d had to be taken before her, but knew it was scary just finding yourself on the receiving end of her harsh stare. Those who did were often sentenced to extra work or community service to make up as punishment for their crimes, and Kyra didn’t envy them for it.