Chosen (HMCS Borealis Book 2) by S.J. Madill Read Free Book Online

where he was the only one of his kind.
    Blaine stepped in front of her, blocking her field of view.   She wanted to shove him out of the way, to keep watching the pretty white-skinned man on the couch.
    "You saw the news," whispered Blaine.   "The Palani attacked another human colony.   They're killing humans, Heather.   We might go to war with them."
    Heather shook her head.   "No, no.   No government is supporting those colonists, they weren't from any country.   They were from 'Earth First'; they're a bunch of racist crazies.   They knew as well as the rest of us how the Palani guard all those planets.   They deliberately—"
    "That doesn't justify killing—"
    "I know, Blaine.   I know."   She ran her fingers through her hair, sliding them under the knit cap on her head.   "Look, I'm not an expert.   It seems like an asshole thing to do, blowing up a colony.   But then I think, imagine if aliens came here and founded a city in the rubble of Delhi or Beijing.   Imagine if they just bulldozed the ruins and the graves.   We'd be so pissed off, we'd be out of our goddamned minds."
    "Okay, okay, fine," said Blaine, raising his hands in surrender.   "But before we let him stay, shouldn't he tell us everything?   He should tell us exactly why he ran away."
    "Why?" asked Heather, frowning.   "So we can judge him?   Decide if his reasons for running away are legitimate by our standards?"
    Blaine backed away, bumping into the island counter.   "No, no…" he dropped his hands to his sides.   "Okay.   I'm sorry I mentioned that.   It's not our place to judge—"
    "You're right.   It isn't."
    Lakshmi came into the kitchen and headed to the fridge.   "I think he's from a religious family," she whispered.   She took a clean glass from the counter, and started filling it with ice.   "I mentioned that I was studying theology at Carleton," she said, "and next thing I know, he's asking me about Vedic translations."   She shook her head.   "Some of the stuff he mentioned — I don't think we're covering it until third or fourth year."  
    Holding up the glass filled with ice, Lakshmi nodded toward the living room.   "He says it's hot in here.   He's wearing some sort of suit to keep him cool, but I guess it's still pretty warm."
    Blaine raised a finger.   "Oh.   I read a thing.   Their body temperature is, like, nine degrees or something."
    There was a chirping sound from the apartment's console.   Too late, Heather recognised the sound of the front door opening.   "Shit," she said.   "It's Carter."
    A thin young man entered.   He was the same height as Heather, with vintage denim clothes that hung from him.   He had slicked-back hair and a week's worth of beard.   "Smells like oranges in here," he said.   The guitar case in his hand knocked the wall as he turned into the living room, and he froze when he caught sight of Elan on the couch.   "What the fuck ?"
    "Hello," said Elan.
    Heather stepped to the front door, closing and locking it.   "Carter," she began.
    He swung toward her.   "Who is this?   What's going on?"
    "His name is Elan."
    Carter pointed.   "He's a Palani.   Aren't they killing our people?" His eyes went to Blaine and Lakshmi, who stood in the kitchen.   "How did he get in here?   I want him gone."
    "No," said Heather.   She waited for Carter to flush red, like he always did when she contradicted him.   She didn't wait long.
    "No?   What do you mean, 'no'?   Don't I get a say in this?   I stayed with a friend after the gig last night—"
    "Sure you did," interrupted Heather.   "With a 'friend', just like always."
    "— and I come home and now I've got a new room-mate?   We're now some sort of drop-in centre for murderers?"   He threw up his free hand, waving the guitar case with the other.   "See?   You're still making decisions for me."
    Heather had already clenched her fists before she realised it.   She leaned in close, keeping her eyes locked on Carter's.