Page 61 of Exiles on Earth
Horror turns him pale, and he quickly glances to his men, as if reassuring himself they’re still there. My stomach twists: I too would be horrified if I lost my crew, and a Gerverstock without one will unravel.
But I have to leave them, if I’m to save them.
One of the other Gerverstocks comes to the edge of the gangplank, nose wrinkling at the cold blanket hiding the grass. “Is there anything of value here? Plants? Resources?”
My fear ignites into fury, a blazing inferno that nearly blinds me. “No!” I snarl, the word ripping from my throat. “There’s nothing of value here. Nothing but primitive life forms.” My voice shakes with barely restrained rage. “You have your orders. Now let’s go.”
I march into the ship, forcing my feet to carry me away, every step tearing at the tether that binds me to this planet, to her. My entire being screams to turn back, to run to El-len, but I don’t. I can’t. If I do, I might never leave.
Once inside, the captain aims a look of pure hatred at me. “First exiled for failing a mission, then you let your crew die. Apex Parthiastock, are we concerned about the state of his arrival?”
The Apex waves his hand lazily. “Orders are to retrieve, not in what condition.”
The captain nods, my only warning. He throws a punch, knuckles exploding against my jaw and slamming me into the metal walls with a boom.
“You failed them all,” he hisses, hauling me up. Red light floods the corridor as he pulls on his innate might. “You’re no Gerverstock.”
“No. I’m not.” I hang limp in his arms. If I had let my crew die, I’d deserve his anger, and more. Gerverstocks don’t beat the clones we lead—apart from my discovery with Parthiastocks, who crave a hierarchy built on brute strength—we work together or alongside each other, but his rage is justified. I’d feel the same if a Gerverstock failed as badly as I had.
He shoves me in a cell, and it seems likely I’ll spend the remainder of my life cramped in here before an execution on my home planet, probably broadcast for all to see.
Closing my eyes, I ignore the ticking sound of the doors being secured for launch. I hold the soft yielding feel of her skin in my mind as the ship rises and tilts, heating as it exits atmosphere. Her scent keeps returning to me, a comfort and a cruelty. Treasuring every single memory, I console myself with the truth that I won’t have to bear this pain for long. I welcome death if a life without El-len is the alternative.
NINETEEN
ELLEN
I wakeas Ilia shifts away, his warmth leaving my side like a ghost. My eyes slit open just in time to catch the flicker of his scales, a cascade of rainbow hues shimmering in the dim light. He moves quietly, pacing, his broad form blending into the shadows of the shed. Smoke? My breath catches—am I dreaming?
Something soft and warm lands on me, carrying his scent. My clothes, all dry. The moment they cool, the door clicks shut. My heart stutters.
He’s gone. He gave me out of this world oral, and left.
I bolt upright, fumbling to pull on the dry fabric as panic rises in my chest. My eyes dart to the single door, my gut twisting. Gone where? Ilia wouldn’t abandon me… would he? Not after everything. I snag my phone and creep to the entrance, the cold air biting my face as I ease it open.
A massive barn looms, blocking out the moonlight—except it isn’t a barn. The structure hums faintly, its edges too perfect, surface gleaming like polished metal.
The side of it collapses into tiny cubes and then reforms into a ramp, revealing tall, hulking figures inside. My guttightens. More like Ilia. Is this good or bad? My mind races, but my instincts scream one thing: trust Ilia.
He storms toward them, his voice cutting through the night. “Let’s go!”
One of the guys hesitates, speaking in low tones I don’t understand. Ilia snarls, “They’re all dead.”
My blood runs cold. Who? My head spins. Ilia doesn’t lie—except to enemies.
I clench my fists, heart pounding. Are these bad guys? I creep closer, his words slicing through the air: “There is nothing of value here, just primitive life forms. You have your orders. Now let’s go.”
The world tilts. Primitive life forms? Nothing of value? His words sink deep in my chest. He’s leaving. He took what he wanted and he’s going, just like Terry.
But then I see his face—his anger, his tension. Whatever’s going on, I have to know for sure.
I step forward as the figures retreat into the ship, my body trembling but resolved. I step onto the gangplank, my boots ringing against the smooth, metallic surface. It feels solid underfoot, reassuring in its sturdiness despite the strangeness of everything else around me.
A whine stops me mid-step. “Floss?” My voice cracks as I spin around.
My dog stands soaked next to the ramp, her wagging tail slapping against her sides. She sniffs the air once, then trots up as if she belongs. My heart lurches, and I follow, hand brushing the ship’s cold, sleek surface. The walls shimmer in muted greys, the corridors eerily stable-like. The whole thing feels impossibly normal—and impossibly real.
But then, with a shiver that runs up my legs like an electric current, the gangplank ripples. My stomach drops as the solid footing beneath me shifts, warping like liquid mercury. I run as it pulls itself upward, reshaping into a seamless wall of gleamingmetal. The door snaps into place with a resounding hiss, locking me inside. My breath catches, heart hammering against my ribs as I press my hands against the unyielding surface. It’s alive in a way metal shouldn’t be. The air feels thinner suddenly, tighter, as if the ship itself is watching me.
