Page 8 of Invasive Species (Outcasts of Oloria #2)
“Pan,” Gara says, hooking one from the set dangling over our heads. Oh yeah, Ellen hangs them up there. He spins the handle so the pan flips in his hand, then sets it squarely on the Aga burner. “Eggs.” He sweeps up the eggs I beat and pours them into the pan. He even adds salt and pepper.
He glances at me. “I've watched El-len with this task.”
“Mm, yeah. Great.” I can't even make eggs today, but at least we're getting fed.
He hunts under the counter for bread and brings up a cob. Banging it experimentally on the chopping board, he murmurs, “Hm. Suitable as a betrillium weighted component.”
“No good?” I take it from him. “Oh yeah, shit, you could kill a squirrel with this.”
Gara cocks his head, watching the eggs bubble in the pan.
I hand him a spatula, and he starts stirring. “You'll see them around, I'll point out the next ones we see,” I promise. “Tiny gray mammals with big fluffy tails. Except we should have red ones, with really cute little pointed ears, but they've all been crowded out by gray invaders.”
Gara tips the pan, eyes narrowing at the still-gooey egg sliding down. “We need more bread. How is it replicated?”
“Ellen makes it. We've got the ingredients here, but… I don't know how to do it. I can learn, but…” It'll be hard for me t o pick up something like that and have it be edible in a realistic timeframe. “Probably best if I buy it in. Add it to the shopping list.”
With another quick check on the eggs, Gara picks up his pad. “Shopping list. Bread.”
“And pizza. I can make that, as long as I have a base. Ooh, maybe you can make a pizza oven? That would be so cool.” I Google pizza ovens. “They look simple enough, couple of blocks placed like a letter box.” I show Gara.
His gaze slides from the cooking eggs to my phone. “Make one of these?”
“Sure. Looks easy.”
“But what's its purpose? I can make it look like that, but what are the functional requirements?”
“How should I know?” My scalp itches under Gara's relentless questioning.
“I'd need to study schematics before I can assure you of delivery.”
Dom's heavy hand lands on Gara's shoulder with a thud. “Whatever it is, we'll obtain or replicate it for you, female.”
Gara's jaw tightens. Dom and the other triplets are bigger than him, which is saying something. The grumpy green alien towers over me, his wide shoulders and deep chest like they're carved from marble. But Dom is bigger again, thicker and more imposing.
In a bizarre search for comfort, I slide closer to Gara. He might hate me, but I know where I stand with him and he's showing his true feelings. Dom and the others seem overly deferential, and I hate that.
Twisting my fingers together, I say, “Study away. I just think it'd be fun to make pizzas. But we'll need food somehow. I can't drive to get it, and none of you can exactly stroll down to the supermarket. ”
“Then what are our options?” Gara asks, voice a little quieter than usual. Maybe because Dom’s breathing down his neck.
I wave my phone at him. “I can order in, get a supermarket delivery.”
“From… another human?”
“Yeah. You'd all need to hide.” Plus, I don't know what state my bank account is in. Sales of merch haven't been going that well.
Gara nods. “We can do that.”
“We will do that,” Dom emphasizes. And it must be a trick of the light, but the other triplets suddenly have purple eyes, too.
And then Gara spins around, hands darting for the pan. “I detect excessive carbonization.”
“Oh, fuck.” Great. I made him burn the eggs.
We all stare at the black and brown shards of what were once beautiful golden eggs. All that potential, wasted. Tears pulse at my eyes, my lip wobbling, but I turn my face away from them to hide it as I reach for the pan to scrape it into the bin.
But Gara’s fist resists my efforts. “We can… we will eat this.”
“But it’ll taste rancid.”
“Calories are calories,” he says stubbornly. He scrapes the burned eggs off the pan and divides it between the plates. I notice he gives me a substantial helping of the top of the omelet, which didn’t get burned as much.
“Bon appétit,” I tell them, digging in. It tastes… well, not too bad, but I didn’t get any burned bits.
“Sorry, gang.” I sigh. “You won’t get the five-star treatment with me.”
“Whatever that is, we’re not worthy of it,” Dom says, shoveling the eggs into his mouth. He keeps a wary eye on Gara, as if he expects him to say something scandalous.
These guys have an interesting dynamic. “So, uh… tell me about your planet.”
Gara chews a mouthful slowly, then swallows. “What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know, the basics. Big? Round?”
Arture speaks for the first time. “Approximately one point six times the radius of this planet, according to my calculations. It’s an oblate spheroid.”
Fuck, I have no idea what he just said. “Cool. Nice weather?”
“Drier than here,” Gara mutters. “Which reminds me, Arture, I need to add protective layers to your mechanical arm.”
The pilot’s right arm is a shiny mass of metal pipes and tubes with glittery rings on them, like a pile of bangles. He flexes it with a quiet creak, and Gara scowls like it just insulted his mother.
“Do you ever smile?” I ask him before I can stop myself.
He turns that scowl toward me. “When the occasion calls for it, perhaps.”
I lean in too close, grinning. “You know, science says smiling releases happy chemicals. We could test it out. Together. Right now.”
Continuing to survey me as the new species I am to him, he lets out a huge, long-suffering sigh, and slowly tips his lips up at the edges. It doesn’t start as a real smile, but as he looks at me, warmth floods into his glowing green eyes.
“That’s right.” And then, like an idiot, I reach out and ruffle his hair.
He jerks back from me but then jerks to a halt, like he’s forcing himself to stay still.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I sometimes have impulsive urges, but that’s not an excuse.” I can’t help it, but a proper apology always works better to fix things when I react without thinking.
And Gara’s gaze turns molten. If I thought he hated me before, well, that’s nothing compared to now.