Under Different Stars by Amy A. Bartol Page B

us a deep scar across his back. “That’s from a squelch tracker.”
    “How did it just skim over your back like that and not rip you to pieces?” Wayra asks, looking at Jax’s scar admiringly.
    “I was laying face down in mud,” he grins as an explanation. “The heat seeker couldn’t find all of me to rip apart. So, the next time you dig your trench…go deep,” Jax says, with a cheeky smile.
    “You’re a cautionary tale,” Trey says. “Remind me to use you when we’re training the new gits.”
    “Where are all your scars, Trey?” Jax asks curiously. “Did you get wrapped?”
    “Yeah…I don’t remember it though,” Trey replies softly, looking down. “One moment I was in a battle, the next thing I can remember is waking up at an outpost.”
    “Did they do regeneration?” Jax asks, definitely interested.
    “Yes, extensive regeneration, so they tell me. They almost had to go to my brother, Victus, for DNA, but they managed with what was left of me.
    “That’s so crystal,” Wayra says in awe.
    “No, it’s not. Regeneration is disturbing,” Trey says honestly.
    “Did you watch the re-growth?” Jax asks.
    “I watched my hand reattach, but they put me out for the rest. When I woke up, I didn’t have a scratch on me,” he replies, grasping his hand and flexing it. Looking up, he catches me watching him.
    Jax follows Trey’s stare to me. “What about you, Kricket? Any skinned knees or broken bones?” Something in his eyes tells me to be careful. I stiffen before trying to pull off a casual shrug.
    “You know,” I say quickly, “the usual.”
    “No…I don’t know. What counts as ‘usual’ on Earth?” he asks doggedly, like he knows something.
    “I once had a paper cut…right here on this finger. That hurt a lot,” I hold up my little finger and wag it in the air.
    Wayra and Trey both grin, but Jax frowns. “I read your medical files,” Jax says in a low tone.
    “Oh?” I ask, pretending that I don’t know what he’s talking about.
    “Broken clavicle, dislocated shoulder, broken radius, three broken ribs, and a stab wound to your abdomen…there was more,” he replies, watching my reaction. “What was that all about?”
    “Would you believe I’m clumsy?” I ask in an off-handed way, watching all of them scowl at me.
    “You are as nimble as a cat, Kricket,” Trey replies.
    “Perhaps I have a problem with authority.”
    “A very dangerous problem to have.”
    “Isn’t it just?” I agree, quirking a brow.
    “Why was I not informed of this abuse?” Trey asks Jax in a low tone.
    “Because the parameters of our mission did not include stalking and killing humans, sir,” Jax replies in an equal tone.
    “We could’ve made exceptions, it is a special case,” Trey replies. “Do you still have her files?”
    “Of course, sir,” Jax replies. My face flushes, knowing what must be in my files.
    Gritting my teeth, anger flares up in me at their intrusion into my life. They have no right to look at those files—at me, like I’m some sort of criminal deviant. “You say you were wounded in battle? Are you at war?” I ask, attempting to change the subject.
    “No. Not now. This was almost a crike ago,” he replies.
    “Fifty years ago?” I ask, seeing him nod. “Was it just the Alameeda clan that you fought?”
    Trey shakes his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “No. They had allies. The houses were divided.”
    “Houses?” I ask in confusion.
    “Clans…there are five clans of Ethar,” Trey explains. “Rafe is but one.”
    “Alameeda is another…and the Comantre clan?” I ask, remembering that they had mentioned that we are near their territory.
    Surprise flickers in Trey’s eyes at my words. “Yes…Comantre is a house…an ally to Rafe,” he says, scanning my face.
    Wayra gives a snort, saying, “When it suits them.” His sarcasm is not lost on me.
    “When you say ‘house’ or ‘clan’…do you mean ‘nation’ like America or Great