“It’s not a dirty word. It’s what I am. I’m half Aunare. And the alien side of me is stronger than the Earther side. My kind can’t have implanted tech. I’m too sensitive for it. This will kill me—or worse—drive me insane. There’s no way I’d survive lacing my brain, so don’t even start with that again.”

A neural lace hardwired all of a person’s apps, calls, games, and everything else they wanted straight into their cerebral cortex for maximum convenience. Earthers loved it, but if a simple finger implant and AR contact lens nearly drove me crazy with jolts of fire-hot pain, that kind of tech would kill me for sure.

“So what now?” Roan took a step back from me, shaking his head. “You get your dinky-assed implant taken out and then go back to using a wrist unit? And then what’s going to happen to you?”

“It worked before.” My words were mumbled. I knew I couldn’t go back to that. I’d stick out, and I already looked too Aunare as it was.

“It worked because we were kids. We all had wrist units back then. But in a few months, you’re going to be twenty. You can maybe pass for sixteen—maybe—but not once someone talks to you. You act and sound much older than you are. And I get it. But by sixteen most people already have the neural lace. You need this implant or you’re going to get caught. And we both know what happens then.”

He was right. I knew it, but I still wanted the implant gone. It’d been a couple of weeks, and the burning pain was getting worse. Maybe if I—

“No way. Stop it.” Roan cut off my thoughts. “I know that look. You’re about to argue with me, but you’re just stubborn, and you’re wrong. You’re just going to have to suck it up. SpaceTech will kill you if they find you. Your family and your friends. Anyone who spent any significant time with you. Which means me. You have to get your shit together and stop cussing every time that thing gets an alert. If they find out who you are, there will be war.”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, trying to find my Zen. “I know. I know. I’ll figure something out and—”

Someone tapped on my shoulder, and I spun. One of my newest students—Hillary—let out a gasp at my too quick movement.

Shit. Shit. Just fucking shit.

Aunare weren’t like Earthers. They were an elegant race built for speed and fighting. It’s why I taught the class. Fighting for me was like breathing. But I couldn’t show these kids who I was. What I was. I couldn’t move that fast or they’d know.