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“Yep.”

“Within this circle are billions of planets. Some of these can be eliminated as sources of life because their climates are too harsh, but millions remain to be explored. Even with hundreds of ships, imagine how long it would take to survey all of them.”

“Wow.”

“Yes, wow.” He picked up a handful of pebbles and scattered them inside the circle. “These represent the few life-forms that exist in our small section of the universe. Keep in mind that life-form doesn’t necessarily mean intelligent life. Some planets, especially the younger ones, support only bac­teria and single-celled organisms.”

She fidgeted with a smooth stone, suddenly feeling very small and insignificant. “How much intelligent life is out there?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Our Voyagers found less than a dozen cognizant life-forms, but who knows how many more exist outside the circle. Finding humans was equivalent to winning the lottery, even after ten years of searching.”

“Those intelligent life-forms—can they travel to other planets?”

“Not any that we found.” Aelyx pushed off the ground and slung his bag over one shoulder. “We passed a clearing on the way to the stream. I’d like to go back for some more samples.” He offered his hand to help her up.

She hesitated, caught off guard. Aside from their first handshake, Aelyx had never initiated physical contact with her. Not even once. She reached for his hand, but he changed his mind at the last second and turned to continue on his way.

“Did the other aliens look like us, too?” she asked, stand­ing on her own.

“Yes and no. From what I learned, they all walk upright, but their limbs and facial features are different.”

“But if you don’t count evolution, L’eihrs and humans are practically identical. Our DNA is almost the same. What’re the odds that two species light-years apart would be so similar?”

“The odds are infinitesimal,” he said with a grin, “unless you believe the ancient legends.”

“Oh, ancient alien legends.” She paused to hop over a fallen log. “That sounds creepy.”

“According to old stories—and by old, I mean thousands of years ago—a legion of L’eihr soldiers were taken from their camp on the eve of an important battle.”

“What happened to them?”

“Supposedly, an enormous spacecraft descended from the heavens and hovered above the soldiers’ camp. Then they all disappeared inside the ship. At the time, we didn’t have the technology for interplanetary travel, so our ancients blamed their gods. Anyway, some of my people believe the abducted soldiers’ descendants were scattered throughout the galaxy, and humans are the offspring of ancient L’eihrs.”

“But L’eihrs have evolved so far beyond humans. How do they explain that?”

“Simple.” He stopped to smooth his hair back and rese-cure it. “The breeding program is largely responsible for our advances. You humans procreate with no regard for the bet­terment of your species, which accounts for your weaknesses. No offense.”

“None taken.” She rolled her eyes.

“But here’s the most interesting part. A few of the Ancient Ones had blue eyes.”

“Really?”

“Just like yours. According to your scientific community, all humans had brown eyes until about ten thousand years ago, when they believe a mutation occurred. Some of my people believe there was no such mutation, that our Ancients brought that trait to Earth.” Nudging her lightly with his elbow, he added, “You and I might be related.”

“Oh, sure. I can see the family resemblance. But why aren’t your eyes blue?”

“It seems the trait died out.”

“But how can any of this be possible? What about the theory of evolution on Earth? "

“Cah-ra,” he said with a laugh, “it’s just an old legend. Hardly anyone believes it.”

“Oh, right.” She felt foolish for getting worked up over a silly story, but for some reason, the tale had brought chills to the surface of her skin. Luckily, another question came to mind and pushed aside thoughts of creepy legends. “You told me the clones are kind of incubated in a machine, right?”

“You’ve oversimplified the process, but that’s basically it.”

“But what happens afterward? When the baby’s born, or fully grown, or whatever? Who raises it? Are there enough parents to go around?”

Aelyx stopped at the edge of the clearing, scanning the ground looking for the best place to take his next sample. “Our population’s carefully controlled, so each generation per­fectly replaces the last. Because of that, yes, there are enough caregivers to go around. But we’re all raised and educated in a large commune called an Aegis until we turn twenty-one and leave for the occupational barracks. Each precinct has its own Aegis, and most of us go there after we’re removed from the artificial wombs.”

“Is a precinct like a town?”

“More like a state, and there are only five of them. Remember, we’re not heavily populated. Everyone on L’eihr could live inside Texas.” He glanced at her and grinned. “With plenty of room to spread out.”

“You said most of you go to the Aegis. What about the ones who don’t go?”

“Some citizens might want to foster a clone if they share blood ties with him. They’re permitted to house the infant for two years, but it’s pretty rare.”

“Wait. Wouldn’t that be like raising your own ancestors?”

“No.” He shook his head and gave a soft laugh. “Some human twins are genetically identical, right?”

“Right.”

“Does that mean they’re the same person?”

“Point taken.” Still, it was hard to wrap her mind around this whole clone business. She couldn’t imagine changing diapers for the infant replica of her grandpa. “So after two years, parents aren’t allowed to see their . . . foster-clone anymore?”

Aelyx glanced up, his silvery eyes warming. “Of course they can see the child. But families as you know them on Earth don’t exist on L’eihr.” He knelt on the ground and pushed the needle tool into the dirt.

Joining him, she sat with her legs crossed at the ankles. “Were you fostered by anyone?”

“No. I went from the womb straight to the Aegis.”

“Oh!” Suddenly everything made sense.

“What’s wrong?” He darted up in alarm and glanced around.

“That’s why you can’t stand to be touched.”

“What?”

“You were practically raised in an orphanage. You didn’t have a mother to hug you or a father to hold your hand. That explains why you hate to be touched.”

She reflected on her most cherished childhood memories: riding atop Dad’s shoulders, curling up with her parents under thick blankets during a thunderstorm, cocooning in Mom’s lap during story time. She couldn’t imagine growing up with­out that.

Aelyx laughed dryly and knelt on the ground in front of her. “I don’t hate to be touched.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you do. You flinch every time my mom lays a hand on you.” She snorted a quick laugh. “You couldn’t have been placed with a more touchy-feely family, you know.”

“My upbringing wasn’t completely devoid of physical con­tact. Our caretakers know some touch is required for proper brain development.”

“Right. And I bet they didn’t hold you a second longer than they had to. Look, you don’t have to get defensive. I’m just glad I finally understand why you are . . . well, the way you are.”