Her words stick to me like the broken legs of flies on long-forgotten flypaper. No matter how I move through the week, I can't pry her message from my mind. She knew this would be a challenge, and, surprisingly enough, I don't believe she had ever doubted my strength.
The next day, we receive blueprints for each of our designated ships. Learning the fine details of our vessels seems like a simple task until I get my hands on the intricate schematics from the Xani. It's a series of lines and white, angular smudges on a blue grid.
Hayomo is of absolutely no help in this regard. She stalks from table to table, assisting some pairs where she could and guiding others on certain notes.
Dean and his partner, Major Aaron Birgar, pore over documents and speak in hushed voices about theories and possible methods of crowd control and scheduling influenced by the layout of ARC9 . They discuss shifts, tactics, and maneuvers while I sit a few feet away drenched in envy. My arms cross over my chest, as I stare at the garble of lines and circles on a document that makes as much sense as Hayomo's shifting faith in me.
"The Meltronians are such geniuses, they're telepathic. Weird, right?" Kai sits on my table while I reread my skinny file for the eighteenth time. I pretend to be interested anyway.
"That's crazy."
"Their brains make up half their body weight. Can you believe that?"
"No. That's nuts."
"And one of the best things about the Meltronians is that their diet is made up of microorganisms that produce a chemical similar to chlorophyll, but red. So it's like they eat plants, but the plants are more alive than ours, and when they bite into them, it looks like flesh. How insane is that?"
I can't handle it anymore. "Can we schedule the first official Meltronian fan club meeting for another day, Kai? I've got work to do."
He raises an eyebrow and leans away.
I've said something wrong. Anxiety sucker-punches me in the gut. My first response to combat the awkwardness is to laugh. Loud.
He relaxes and smiles.
"I'm already a member of a different fan club. It has nothing to do with aliens."
"Oh really?" I ask, returning to my tablet.
"Yeah. We're convening now, actually."
I swallow the desperate desire to ask him what he's talking about.
He rests his hand next to mine on the table and strokes my thumb with his little finger.
My insides evaporate until my breath fizzes.
Dean's watching these encounters. I'm so sure, I'd put creds on it.
YOU ARE READING
ARC10
Science Fiction[Book 1 of the ARC10 Trilogy] **Winner of the 2017 Watty Storysmith award** The President created an underground safe-haven for the survivors of the alien invasion. He built it to save them all from total annihilation. He protects them, feeds them...
