Playing the Odds

LEO STOOD BY THE WINDOW AND WATCHED, NERVOUS and excited, as the truck pulled up to the house. Two soldiers emerged, a man and a woman, dressed in sharp gray uniforms. The truck, by contrast, was camouflaged. It seemed an odd thing for the military to still worry about—painting your truck in brown and green patterns when most of your battles were fought in the vacuum of space. It’s not as if the Djarik would parachute into the jungle and engage in hand-to-hand combat. And if they did, a little camouflage would not save a soul.

The visitors rang the bell and Leo snuck into the kitchen to eavesdrop. He could have appeared by his father’s side, but there was a good chance he would have been told to go play outside, meaning he wouldn’t hear a thing, and this looked like an important conversation. Soldiers had never visited the house before.

They didn’t even bother with hellos.

“Dr. Fender, I am Colonel Ramsey and this is Chief Science Officer Polina Vonnevich with the EDF.”

Leo knew all about the Earth Defense Force. He knew because his brother wouldn’t stop talking about it. Like Homeland Security, except now the homeland was the entire planet. The EDF was a special branch of the Coalition military composed almost exclusively of humans and charged with only one task: protecting Earth from another tragedy at the hands of its alien enemies. In the months that followed the first attack it was decided by the World Council that humans should take some responsibility for their own protection. Not that they didn’t trust the Aykari—it was understood that the fleet of ships in orbit around the Earth had done their best to repel the Djarik onslaught that demolished thirty cities and took countless lives. But clearly their defenses were inadequate, not surprising given how thinly they were stretched across the galaxy. Once it was decided that the citizens of Earth were fully committed to the war effort, one of the first priorities was to bolster the planet’s protection.

Hence the EDF. And the two somber-faced people standing on the Fenders’ porch, addressing Leo’s father.

“I’m sorry. I don’t believe I know you,” Dr. Fender said.

“We have not met in person,” Colonel Ramsey said. “But we are familiar with your work, as well as the various sources of funding for your research . . . much of which, directly or indirectly, comes from us.”

“Us?”

“The military. The EDF specifically.”

“I’m sorry. I still don’t understand.”

“Dr. Fender, would it be okay if we came in?”

Leo pulled back, making sure he wasn’t spotted as his father led the two soldiers down the hall and into the formal living room—the one nobody ever spent time in because the chairs were too rigid and there was no vid screen, just a bunch of old-fashioned paintings on the walls and a carpet so plush that it captured your footprints when you stepped on it. Leo’s father offered his guests a drink—some tea, perhaps—which thankfully they declined, meaning Leo could keep listening from the kitchen. He pressed his hot cheek to the wall, daring to keep one eye spying around the doorframe.