Hostile Genus: An Epic Military Sci-Fi Series (Invasive Species Book 2)

may become resentful, for that flood of alien light is painful and shocking. Their natural reflex is to shriek and turn the light back off, to seek refuge in the familiar comfort of the dark,” Maya had explained to a frustrated Jon.
Thankfully, by some miracle, violence had for the most part been avoided. Despite that blessing, peace could not be achieved yet. The differences between the new order and the Old Guard, who, regardless of what they had learned about Warbak and the Harvesters, refused to accept the Displaced as citizens, simply could not be reconciled.
The leader of those who refused to cooperate was a man named Martin. Jon and Carbine had trained under him in the Academy, but they had never been close. Martin was one of the survivors who went beyond refusing to accept the Displaced as equals in need of help instead of threats to the human race or Earth, even going so far as to deny the wicked intent behind Accoba Warbak’s executed plan to transform every New Breed into the robotic killing machines called Spartans. He insisted that Warbak must have had a reason for what he had done, and publicly denounced Maya as an esoterrorist whose lies must not be believed.
Shortly after the cleanup of what came to be known as the Incident—the term given to the transformation of the Spartans and rebel uprising in the Shanty— the Old Guard, outnumbered and outgunned, announced that they would leave Home and take refuge in one of the more prominent enclaves in the Eastern Farmlands, a place called Lincoln. Only force would stop them.
Jon had seen and understood the plight in Maya’s eyes. Part of her wanted to stay in Home, to help Miller fight for lasting peace and unity, yet every time she looked at Jon, her determination would cave and shatter, like the orbs Jon had smashed in the battle for the liberation of Home.
For they both knew that if they did not reach the Morning Star, did not finish the race and retrieve the Anvil, Jon was doomed.
The serum that Jon had taken before her rescue from the Ministry had given him great powers, rendering him a veritable super-human, enabling him to go toe-to-toe with Hoppers and Spartans single-handedly. But that power came at a price. The serum was burning him up from the inside out, and if a cure wasn’t found in the promise of the Anvil’s redemptive power, he would burn out and die before the end of the New Year.
Knowing that a peace had not been reached made it difficult for Maya, as well as everyone else, to leave Home. But leave they must, trusting the fate of Home to Miller and the others.
When Maya and Lucy refused to let the Old Guard take all the military transports for their exodus, violence had almost broken out once more.
“You conquer our city, our Home, and then deny us the opportunity to leave?” Martin had asked. Jon had been there, never leaving Maya’s side in the days after the cleanup. Martin’s body language and careful wording of questions had set Jon to unease. It seemed to him that this man, one whom he would have called a brother just a month before, was hoping to instigate irreparable damage to the negotiations. The man wanted a fight.
“No one is denying you the chance to go, if that is what you and your people insist on doing,” Maya had replied coolly. “However, your choice to leave does not require that we leave ourselves with no means for long-range travel and exploration. In fact,” Maya continued, standing as straight and tall as possible, “nothing about your choice requires anything from us. It is your choice to leave, not ours to make you go. By allowing you a third of the military equipment, a third of the farmlands, and the majority of the transports, we are being more than generous.”
“Generous, you say?” Martin scowled. “How very kind of you.” His eyes narrowed, and Jon took a step closer to the goddess, squaring his shoulders and tacitly reminding Martin that he was there. The slits of Martin’s eyes turned on Jon.
“You must be very proud of yourself, dethroning our glorious Chairman, only to replace him with this Drop-trash-loving harlot queen.”
“That’s enough. Take your two transports and get out of here, Martin. We’re done.”
Later, Miller had expressed his concerns to Jon and Maya about the tenor of the negotiations.
“We may live to regret giving them military equipment.”
“While it was their choice to leave Home, we don’t want them to die out there. There are still Beasties behind every bush, under every hill, and don’t forget, the Harvesters will be back someday.”
Jon had hung around and watched with a sinking feeling in his stomach as Martin and the Old Guard packed up a sizeable portion of Home’s might and disappeared into the Rough. An unsettling feeling had come over him that he couldn’t shake despite his best attempts at optimism.
We haven’t seen the last of him.
Later that night, after the sun had set, Jon had met up with his friends and helped pack the last remaining transport for their journey to the Morning Star.
“Hey, c’mon. Don’t worry, bud. We’ll be back in a couple of days. Everything is going to be okay,” Carbine had assured him with a slap on the back.
They’d worked through the evening, loading the supplies for the trip into the cargo hold of the transport, which, as fate or luck would have it, contained four four-wheeled all-terrain vehicles.
These will come in handy later. Jon had run his hand along one’s chassis, admiring and inspecting it, unconsciously comparing its make to the Republic Easy Rider that he suddenly realized he missed.
Before long, the bay had been filled with foodstuffs, weapons, medical supplies, and a wide assortment of camp-making and survival gear, as well as what seemed to be most of a machine shop—the last of which Ratt proudly took credit for bringing along.
Maya had wanted to