The Lonely Orphan (The Lost Planet 5)

It was always Aria who had the answers, Aria I could look up to. After she left, there was just me.

I only have myself to rely on now.

“Can you make a connection with their communicators?” I ask Willow.

“You want to talk to them?” Zoe rolls her eyes. “You may as well wave a red flag in front of their face.”

“They don’t know we’ve taken over,” I remind her as patiently as possible. “And we don’t know what they want. Maybe it’s a friendly visit. We won’t know until we ask. Raise them on the communicators,” I instruct Willow. The communicators didn’t work long distance. We’ve tried contacting someone, anyone, beyond the mountains that surround our prison, but with no luck. The storm has damaged the main antenna, which probably transmitted the signal over long distances.

Zoe may be…forceful, but she means well.

We have a lot to lose.

“I can try.” Willow does whatever she does on the computers. Like me, she was forced into the position of all-around tech genius after we overthrew the guards. She’s learned the alien system on the go and is the best at deciphering the tech-speak.

While she does whatever it is she does, I go to the intercoms system and make an announcement. “Code Red. I repeat, Code Red. Please proceed to your dormitories for the foreseeable future. I will announce when we’re all clear.”

Panic will ensue, but if there’s an imminent threat, it’s better they be prepared than caught off guard.

“I’ve got their comms system,” Willow says. “What do you want to do next?”

I try not to sigh. I cross to her side and take the communicator in my hand. While Willow presses buttons, I don a black mask to obscure my face. At the signal from Willow, I say into the microphone, “Warning. You have breached a protected air space. Show your faces.”

There’s a pause and then a screen on the communicator desk flashes to life. Two men—alien men—appear on the screen. They have bleach-white skin, fangs, and dark hair. There’s something terrifying about their strange humanlike features.

“They look like monsters,” I say to Willow and Zoe, though they can see for themselves. To the monsters, I say, “Turn your vessel around if you want to live.”

The one with tattoos and hair tied back in a tail says, “Listen, female,” which only makes my temper flare.

“No. You listen, asshole. You’re to turn your ship around right now or I’ll have my friend blow you out of the sky.”

The last is an empty threat. There isn’t heavy artillery in Exilium, only the knives we stole from the guards and the handmade ones we fashioned to use for the takeover. The guards used fists to intimidate for the most part.

“We come in peace,” says the second alien. His hair is a riot of jaggedly cut hair that hangs over one of his black eyes and is spiked up messily in other spots. “On a mission from my commander and his mate. We’re looking for her sister. Perhaps you could help us.”

“Lyr, don’t get excited. It could be a trap.”

But I’m not thinking about anything other than the word sister, which vibrates in my skull. “Sister?” I ask.

“Her name is Aria and—”

“Lyr, no!” Zoe shouts, but I’m already pulling off my mask.

“Aria?” the spiky-haired alien asks and at first I think he’s talking to her. That she’s on the ship with him coming to save me. I study the screen, but there’s no one else with them. Aria isn’t there.

Pony-tail smacks Spikes. “No, you empty-nogged mortarekker! It’s Limerick! Her sister!”

“How do you know my name?” I demand. Oh God, have they taken her?

When I got to Exilium and found out Aria hadn’t made it, I was certain she was dead. That her transport ship had gotten lost, shot down, or worse. I didn’t know what worse could be, but I was certain I’d never find out. That I’d never see her again. Hearing her name again was like a shock from the electric chair the guards used to use to execute prisoners.

The alien is speaking, and I focus on his words. “Like my friend here said, we have Aria at our facility and—”

“I want to talk to her. Now.”

“Listen, Limerick. I know all about you—”

“It’s Lyric.” I want to punch this condescending asshole. “And you don’t know shit about me.”

Spikes smirks at me. Smug bastard. As though he knows everything about me. I don’t like that look one bit.

“You will release her to me,” I say and try to keep my voice level.

Spikes’ eyes flash. “We’re not releasing her anywhere. She’s ours.”

I have to grip the desk with both hands to keep from reaching through the screen and throttling the motherfucker. “Yours?”

“Yes, ours,” he says. “And we’re going to make you ours too.”

All indecision is wiped away. My fury transforms into calm certainty. I signal to Zoe, who smiles evilly. “Well, since you asked so sweetly. Just the two of you handsome fellas on that ship?”