The holospace alert appeared in the corner of Nessa's implant.
5 nearby signals detected, it read. 782: 40 long-measures away. 775, 776, 777, 778: 100 long-measures away.
Nessa expanded the holospace application.
The four nestmates, was the first thought that occurred to her. She connected. Four simultaneous holo-feeds.
Light streamed from her implant. It morphed into colors and shapes until they stabilized as four creatures with hair the color of the kindling mines, sapphire eyes, and pale skin.
Two had long hair, wider hips, and slimmer bodies than when she'd seen them before. One short-haired one had a bony build. The other was stockier and more squarish.
"Scion, Skyla, Elektra," Eklun asked, narrowing his eyes at his implant. "Did you see this?"
The others leaned in as Nessa's holographic image emerged. Nessa shuddered on making contact with four pairs of sapphire eyes.
"Eklun," Skyla whispered. "I'm not sure how this being is connecting, but that's one of them that scattered us."
"What do you want with us?" Scion demanded.
Nessa squirmed and whimpered, "I have a code."
Scion and Elektra exchanged sour smirks.
"I'll bet you do," Scion said.
"Please," Nessa begged. "It's an implant code, and you're probably not in signal range. If you want to get the booster application, 40 measures from you is code 782."
A collective gasp rose from the nestmates.
"Maz," Elektra said.
"Here he goes by Jamison,” she corrected.
The door to Jamison’s room was still opening when he ducked under it.
“Uh-huh?” He answered. “Did you call me?”
Nessa's hologram still rested in his room. She changed views from the nestmates to Jamison's room, then switched back and extinguished the nestmates' holo-feed.
The door muted the rest of the house. Jamison plopped into his desk chair.
“Do you hear that?” Nessa asked. “On the other side of the wall. Maybe your parents’ room?”
Jamison went over and stood near Nessa’s hologram. He pressed his ear against the wall.
“If he skipped school because of the alien, he’s grounded indefinitely,” Trevon ranted. “It’s not healthy, buddying up to an intruder from who-knows-where.”
“Trev,” Enya soothed. “I-”
“You what?” Trevon bellowed.
“I think our son is being a child,” she said in a trembling tone. “He’s 9, Trev. Give him a break.”
“Trespassing is not just ‘being a child’,” Trevon snapped. “He’s getting too attached, Enya. Point blank.”
Jamison pulled away from the wall and rested his forehead again