There has always been a rift between us. You thought it was because I didn’t believe you when you told me about your origins. I want to tell you now that it was because I did believe you, because I did know you weren’t my daughter. My daughter went into the woods and did not come home. My daughter died because I could not protect her.

Now, finally, I am going to see her again. I hope she can forgive me.

I know you never will.

—letter written by Caroline Miller, 2031. Undelivered.

Citizens of the United States of America, we are at war.

It is not a traditional conflict. These enemies come, not from within or without, but from another world. They have crossed space to reach us, to destroy us, and I say now and to you all, that we will not be destroyed. The human race will survive this. We will endure.

God bless America, and God help us all.

—address given by President Richard Collins to the American people, August 2031.

Chapter 19

Seattle, Washington: August 17, 2031

Invasion nearing its conclusion

1.

Unlike the scout ship we’d seen in Tucson, which had been acting autonomously and didn’t have any precious cargo to protect, our borrowed vessel landed gently. It touched down in the middle of the airport runways, sinking its tangled roots deep into the concrete, cracking it into a million useless chunks and shards. It settled slowly into its new cradle in the earth, digging those roots deeper by the second, making itself an immovable part of the landscape. How true that immovability was was really anyone’s guess: I couldn’t have said one way or the other.

The vines that had been holding us in our “seats”—shelf fungus teased into a shape that would accommodate human anatomy, if only just—released us, whipping back into the walls like seatbelts snapping back into their cradles. Toni stretched, hopped out of her seat, and wandered across the crampedd cabin to the tangled seam of the door.

“This thing shouldn’t be airtight,” she said cheerfully. “Unless the two of you are putting out enough oxygen to compensate for massive leakage, what we’re looking at is a literal violation of the laws of a reasonable universe. Aren’t aliens fun? Isn’t alien biotech fun?”

“I think you broke her,” said Mandy, looking toward Jeff. Apparently, he had the title of “official alien” for our little mission. That was somewhat of a relief. I’d been afraid it would go to me.

“That one came pre-broken,” said Jeff.

“Not true,” said Toni. “I was perfectly functional before one of your asshole flowers decided to have a go at eating me. Now I figure I’m entitled to do whatever the hell I want, and that includes criticizing your technology. It’s like someone let the set designer from Troll come up with an entire alien civilization.”