Humankind: Book 1 in the Invasion Day series

by LC Morgans

  “Your parents weren’t worthless nobodies. They brought you into a world it was impossible to survive in unless you had money, or were willing to do anything it took to get it. They weren’t given the chance to better themselves, whereas you were. I too remember what it was like before. We lived in a world where my family was given permits to drive, while everyone else had to take buses and trains thanks to overcrowding on the roads. We were privileged and greedy, but because of who we were, we got away with it.” He shook his head. “How can you envy me? People like me deserve nothing but hatred. We cowered in a corner while you fought to survive, and all because my father was willing to betray our race so readily.”

  “Well, maybe I hate you a little bit,” she conceded, but laughed to relieve the tension that’d swept into the room along with their intense conversation. “But then again, I always did think you were an ass. This story hasn’t changed anything.”

  Silas rose to her bait perfectly. He pinned her to the bed by her arms and planted kisses all over her face and neck, while she giggled and writhed before surrendering. She looked up into his smiling face, and basked in the warmth from him. Yes, there were vast differences in the way their lives had gone, but Kyra only wanted to focus on the here and now. Her choices and intelligence had brought her here, not Silas or his families wealth. There was no debt she owed, and it felt good not to carry around heavy burdens like he seemed to.

  Kyra had gotten through primary training on her own merit, and vowed she’d never stop until she’d found her natural place amidst her comrades. She was determined she’d never accept a bribe or take the easy road; instead she’d stay strong and trust her instincts. No matter what, here was a lot better than where she’d been a year ago, and she wasn’t letting it go for love nor extra credits.

  “Two weeks isn’t long enough,” Silas told her, peering down into her eyes in the deep orange glow of the sunset. “I want you to myself. Now…” He kissed her lips. “And always.” They hadn’t left the bedroom since her attempt to make coffee that morning, and Kyra guessed food was off the cards for another few hours at least, but didn’t care. In their training they'd gone without during simulations of rations or natural food sources, and now her body craved nothing but the man keeping her wonderful company.

  ***

  A loud crash downstairs had both Silas and Kyra jumping out of bed and pulling on some clothes early the next morning. In silence, they each tiptoed to the hallway and peered out. There were lights on at the end of the hall, and raised voices.

  “Oh, great,” Silas whispered and he huffed. He then gently grabbed Kyra’s arm to pull her back into the bedroom with him, and closed the door. He didn’t need to explain, it was obvious he knew the voices owners, and was not impressed at their arrival. “It’s my brother, Tarquin. Clearly he didn’t get the memo that I had the house this leave. Either that or him and his girlfriend have had yet another row.” Kyra could tell he was annoyed at the idea of having their seclusion shattered, especially by his older brother, but couldn't blame him. She found herself wondering if they could be close at all, or if he’d been too much of an outcast due to being the baby of the family, and the one who’d rebelled and been unambitious in his career.

  “The house is big enough for us to share. We can simply stay holed up in this room for the next week or so, I don’t mind,” she replied, and stepped close to slide her arms around Silas’ back. He seemed to relax a little, and laid a soft kiss to her temple.

  “It’s not just him though, you can guarantee that wherever he goes my other brother follows. If Pedro’s here then his wife will come too, followed quickly by…”

  “Darling. Are you awake?” a soft voice asked, and a hand tapped on the bedroom door. Silas flinched. The voice was older, and surely couldn't belong to his sister, which only left for it to be his mother. “Silas?” The door started to open.

  “I’m not alone, mom. Give me a minute and I’ll be down, please.” There was no response, but the door, which was only opened an inch or two, quickly closed shut again. “We’d better get ready for the inquisition,” he said to Kyra with a frown. Silas went to the door that connected his room with his sister’s, gave a knock, and then entered when he’d checked it was empty. He grabbed Kyra a pair of shorts and a shirt to wear, and the way he deliberated over which ones to give her spoke volumes. She quickly realized she needed to be careful around his family. He was on edge, and if just their presence had him acting this way, then she knew she’d better be ready for some serious scrutiny.

  Kyra took a shower and braided her hair. She took time to ensure it was neat and tidy, and gave her teeth an intense scrub to make sure her breath was fresh. She suddenly felt uneasy, and looked to Silas for a way to dispel that strange pang in her gut, but he too seemed wound tightly.

  When they were ready, he took her hand and led her down the hall, and through to the rest of the house. They found his brothers and mother sitting at the huge table in the kitchen, drinking coffee and talking quietly to one another. They all looked up as they entered, and Kyra’s initial instinct was to shrink back, but Silas wouldn’t let her. He kept her beside him, and immediately introduced her to the others.

  “Kyra, I’d like you to meet my mother, Freya McDermott,” he said when they were beside them. She smiled and greeted her timidly, and felt the iciness in his mother’s stare despite her plastered on grin. “And my brothers, Tarquin and Pedro,” he indicated with his hand.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” she said, shaking hands with each of them, and the two men looked back at her with mischievous grins. Freya on the other hand remained poised and closed-off, a stark contrast to her three children.

  “We had some issues with the Manhattan apartment. Rot in the building, so we had to come here. I knew you wouldn’t mind, darling, but I admit I wasn’t expecting you to have company,” Freya told her son in a soft tone, but eyed Kyra warily. “Tell me a little about yourself, and how you know my son,” she added, indicating for her to take the empty seat to her left. She did as she’d been asked, and accepted a much-needed cup of freshly brewed coffee from Tarquin with a smile. Silas opened his mouth, presumably to tell them about her himself, but Freya raised her hand to silence him. Kyra had never seen him cower before anyone, not even Lt. Psy, but under his mother’s scrutiny he seemed to retreat so much into himself that she could no longer see the powerful soldier she knew so well.

  “There isn’t much to tell really,” Kyra replied, stirring her drink intently. “Silas and I met at the sector fair at my school, and then again at Fort Angel. I’ve just completed my primary training, and will return for secondary at the end of next week. He and I grew close this year, and when it was time to go on summer leave he invited me here with him.”

  “You didn’t wish to return home?” Freya asked, sipping on her drink.

  “I have no home to return to,” she answered, and hoped that honesty was the best policy. Silas and his brothers watched their exchange in complete silence, and she wished they'd join in, or at least strike up a conversation of their own to help break the tension, but they seemed to think better of it.

  “Oh you poor thing,” Freya’s voice warmed slightly after hearing her answer, and Kyra hoped it was sincere. “Do you mind me asking why?”

  “I was a foster kid, so since I left I have no need to go back. That’s not where I belong.”

  “Oh? And where do you belong?” There seemed to be an edge to Freya’s tone again, and Kyra wondered if she was suspicious of her motives for being with her son. Perhaps lots of young women over the years had tried to ensnare a McDermott boy in the hopes of getting their hands on their wealth, and she couldn't blame Silas’ mother for being distrustful.

  “At Fort Angel with the other trainees. All I ever wanted was to enlist and serve the King. Meeting Silas has been a wonderful addition to my new life I hadn’t counted on, but not my sole reason for pursuing my dreams.”

  “Aw, she’s really hung up on you
, little brother,” Tarquin said, cutting some of the tension between her and Freya. Kyra looked across the table into his deep brown eyes that matched his brother’s, and admired their likeness. In fact, all three McDermott brothers looked very alike, and she was pleased to see the same mischievous smile on each of the older siblings’ lips she’d come to know well.

  “The feeling’s mutual, don’t worry,” Silas retorted, immediately silencing any further banter from either of his brothers. Kyra appreciated that he’d managed to shut them up, but soon found herself wondering why they were so surprised that he was seeing someone. Even his mom looked surprised at the declaration of affection, and she watched him for a moment before turning back to Kyra.

  “Lovely,” Freya said, and she took another swig of her coffee. “Were you in his platoon?” The tension rose quicker than the temperature, and fear sprang to life from deep inside Kyra’s gut.

  “Yes, but we didn’t start seeing each other until I’d passed primary training. There’s no way either of us would jeopardize our careers that way, and that’s the honest truth.” Despite her dread, she stared right into Freya’s bottle green eyes and urged her to believe that what she said was true.

  “Tsk, tsk bro. Always gotta push the boundaries, don’t you?” Tarquin teased Silas, but he didn’t seem ready to rise to any of his bait.

  “She’s telling the truth. We’ve done nothing unlawful,” he replied flatly.

  “Be that as it may, she’s still a junior rank to you. Also, judging by the fact she’s wearing your sister’s clothing and smells as though she’s been washing with your toiletries, she clearly doesn’t have more than a few credits to her name.” Kyra tried to stay calm, but her blood was boiling. She wanted to scream and shout at Freya for daring to put her in the same box she more than likely put every young woman who went near any of her sons in, but forced herself to stay calm.

  “Kyra had no idea where I was bringing her, and would’ve come with me to a shack on the beach if I’d asked. We arrived in our uniforms and I offered her the use of Lasiandra’s clothes until we could go shopping for some of her own, as her old jeans no longer fit.” Silas was clearly having the same reaction to his mother’s words that she was, and Kyra was pleased he’d decided to stick up for her. He knew there were absolutely no motives in place as to why she was here, and she hated that the assumption had been made so readily simply because of where she’d come from. “I’m finally serious about a girl, and instead of being happy for me, all you want to do is interrogate us?” he then growled, and stood from the table. Silas stormed away, and Kyra followed him without even a backward glance at his family.

  He finally came to a stop under the gazebo where they’d sat together a couple of days before, and marched up and down while she took a seat. She watched and waited, hoping he might say something, but he simply continued to pace and seethe.

  “We knew we’d be questioned as soon as we revealed our relationship, Silas. I know we thought we’d have more time together first, but at least we can use the rest of the summer break to show them we meant what we just said in there. They don’t know me like you do. They weren’t there when you told me about your past, and I told you about mine. They didn’t feel what we felt the other day when we accepted each other for who we are, and they certainly don’t seem to know the man you’ve become despite their constant criticism and expectations.” Kyra was desperate to find their way back to the happy, carefree and loving couple in the first throes of passion they’d been the day before. Soon they’d be back to training and exhaustion, and she knew they’d struggle to find time together when they were back at the base. Silas stopped his pacing and peered down at her.

  “How do you do that?” he asked as he took the seat beside her and pulled her into his arms. “How did you just manage to tell them off and stick up for them at the same time?” he let out a gruff laugh that told her he’d understood why she’d played the fence a little with her words.

  “Momma bears are always hard to win over. Don’t worry about her questioning me—you're worth it. Why don’t we go to town so I can check my credits and buy some clothes so she can stop complaining, and then we’ll get drunk and eat a stupid amount of junk food on the beach? We can still use this time to have fun, just me and you, however it seems we can’t keep the house to ourselves any longer.”

  “That’s the best idea I've ever heard,” he replied with a huge smile.

  Rather than calling a cab, Silas presented Kyra with a crash helmet and led her into a garage to one side of the house. She found an astonishing sight inside, and gasped at the sheer amount of gifts and bribes the McDermott’s had clearly taken over the years in the form of classic automobiles and modern vehicles. Back in the old world, humans with money to burn spent it on expensive toys like those lined up before her, and she felt like she was standing in a museum filled with relics from those days. Manufacturing of cars or motorbikes for sale was now a thing of the past, and the sectors that once created such things for pleasure were now solely in the business of making cars, trucks, trains or other old-school equipment to keep the human civilians mobile and troops well stocked.

  Despite the new technologies that were readily available on Earth since Invasion Day, only the use of certain Thrakorian equipment by humans was allowed. The use of computers at school and on base were all in the service of King Kronus, so were deemed necessary to help further their society, but there were plenty of services that weren’t, and the use of them always came at a price. The hovercraft that’d delivered them across the sea to Hawaii was one of those luxury expenses, and unnecessary travel would quickly eat away at any stock of credits a person had accrued. They were lucky, because as a yearly bonus each member of the Human Royal Armed Forces was allowed to travel to one destination and back for free. Kyra still didn’t know how many she’d earned during the past year, and was eager to find out now that she and Silas had been forced to leave the solace of their short-term home.

  Like her, most credit-conscious humans worked close to their homes, and didn’t stray farther than the free trains allowed during their time away from work. It was considered more than just dangerous to run out of credits while far from home, but most low-paid humans couldn't accrue enough to travel anyway. There was no longer such a thing as holidaying for pleasure. Humans went only where they were allowed, and the system seemed to work perfectly to keep everyone in their place, without ever building walls or physical barriers to keep control of the classes. By keeping the poor on the breadline, their new society ensured the middle-class humans didn’t have to see or think about them. Their food was made and their streets and homes cleaned, but they were busy working their own toil for the credits afforded to them, so didn’t see the dirt below.

  Kyra felt she’d finally crossed over into that void between those two classes, and didn’t like the realizations she was coming to about just how bad the human race still was. They were following orders and doing as they were told, but life was simply passing them by. She hadn’t noticed it before, but for the lower-classes, life seemed more about survival than actually living—and it was undoubtedly on purpose. Here she was, standing in what had to be one of the wealthiest human families’ homes, and she despised the luxury and the power they’d been given. They had to have servants who’d cleaned the house in preparation for their visit, and who right now were dealing the with rot in what Freya had called their ‘Manhattan’ house. They probably didn’t appreciate or even care for them, and Kyra hated how far she was feeling from her old roots. She felt torn, dithering between the world she’d known her entire post-Invasion Day life and the world she had within reach if she continued to progress in her career.

  “I wonder if this is how Samia felt all those times I was eating rationed lunches, while she had her choice of the best meals,” she whispered to herself, and knew Silas would want her to explain. She looked over at him, and had to smile at thinking back to the old friend she hadn’t seen in over a year. “I had a
half-breed friend at school. She taught me a lot about the Thraks, and I was always interested by her stories. Samia taught me to understand the divides between us, rather than hate them, and now I feel like I can appreciate even more. She was a genuine friend, but at times I felt like she took pity on me, and my lowly status. She was so kind, and had everything while I had nothing, but never let me see how vastly different we really were.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, laying a hand on her shoulder. Kyra knew she must look pretty vacant, and peered into his dark eyes. She felt at home in that stare, and he brought her back to Earth again from her haywire thoughts.

  “Everyday when she came to school, Samia crossed over from the highest class system humanly possible into a middle-class sector, while I came up from the lower-class. She chose to be my friend, even though I was so poor I could never be allowed to visit her home or meet her family. She encouraged and helped me decide on my chosen career, yet she knew that one day I might come to look at the world the way I’m seeing it right now.”

  “Seeing it how?” he seemed really lost, and Kyra laughed.

  “Divided in ways I could’ve never guessed,” she answered as she wandered over to a nearby sports car and ran her hand over the delicate leather hood. “I keep asking myself where I fit in, wondering if I should strive for anywhere other than a lower rank of the army. What if I don’t belong higher up? What if everyone treats me the way your mother did? Will I always just be the poor foster kid from downtown L.A?” Questions were rolling off her tongue in waves, and she didn’t really need them answering, only to say them aloud.