We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from Why on Earth: An Alien Invasion Anthology, a young adult SF anthology edited by Vania Stoyanova and Rosiee Thor, out from Page Street on February 4th.
Captain Iona is organizing an impromptu retrieval for her brother, an undercover alien posing as a movie star. But her efforts go awry when a technical malfunction turns her heroic rescue into an unintentional invasion. With tales of disguised extraterrestrials stuck in theme parks, starship engineers hitchhiking to get home, and myth-inspired intergalactic sibling reunions, each story in this multi-author anthology explores the universal desire to be loved and understood, no matter where you come from. After all… aliens are just like us.
Edited by beloved YA author Rosiee Thor and YA talk show host Vania Stoyanova, the anthology crosses genre bounds to bring in tropes from romance and contemporary adventure with stories from Alex Brown, Beth Revis, Emily Lloyd-Jones, Eric Smith, Julian Winters, Laura Pohl, Maya Gittelman, M. K. England, Rebecca Kim Wells, and S. J. Whitby.
CHIP: In a world filled with uncertainty, one group of teenagers will shake the world to its core. Humanity’s greatest fear becomes a reality when the skies part to reveal an ancient truth and a force not known before as it descends among the humans.
No one could have seen their arrival coming.
The world—
No, the United States—
No… California. California would never be the same after today.
IONA: CHIP, can you please stop narrating our secret mission?
DEXIN: Yeah, let’s not put it all on the comms. If Mom gets ahold of this transcript, I don’t want them to know I was part of this.
CHIP: Too late. You’ll have to manually delete the files later.
DEXIN: UGH. It’s so much work.
IONA: Just do it, Dex. And then get back to the bridge.
Iona pulled her gaze from the text scrolling along her optical lens to refocus on the task at hand… The ship’s AI, CHIP, was right. They’d be in for a load of hurt if Dexin’s mother—or any of their parents, for that matter—got wind of their flawless but entirely unsanctioned operation. They’d set the engines to full-burn to cut the travel time in half just to avoid that unsavory possibility. But none of that would matter if they didn’t get where they were going, and for that, Iona needed the whole crew: the pilot, Moysah, with their steady hands on the steering controls; Vidra, the navigator, who was rechecking the trajectory once more; Eames in the medic bay stressing about having enough supplies; Solles, their engineer, who never faced a problem they couldn’t solve; and Dexin… well, Dexin was probably in his cabin watching videos of fuzzy Terran creatures getting scared by vegetables, a genre of Terran entertainment Iona could not and would not understand.
“Report?” Iona barked, eyes flicking across the nav screen. It unfurled before her, every minute detail about the ship and its six passengers.
“We aren’t there yet,” came Moysah’s curt reply. “Just like we weren’t there five minutes ago last time you asked.”
Had it really only been five minutes? The sardonic smile on Moysah’s face chastened Iona some. Even seated in the pilot’s chair, their long, lanky limbs draped over the armrests without a care in the world, Moysah had an imposing look to them. They were the tallest of them all, pushing seven feet—always looking over their heads so, as they liked to joke, they saw things before anyone else in their crew did. Maybe that was what made them the best pilot in their class. Or, rather, they were the best pilot without a strong sense of self-preservation. No one with an ounce of sense would’ve signed on for Iona’s death wish of a mission. That was just fine by Iona. She had enough sense for the lot of them.
“Do we have an ETA, at least?” she asked through her teeth.
Vidra, seated just behind Moysah, opened her mouth to reply, but the pilot beat her to it.
“We’ll get there when we get there. Take a load off, Captain. Watch a Terran movie or something.”
“Watch a Terran movie? What use would that be?”
Moysah pivoted in the pilot’s chair and shrugged. “Research.”
Iona narrowed her large eyes, recalling the last of the earthly films Dexin had made them watch in preparation for their mission—Galaxy Quest, in which a group of misguided aliens faced disastrous consequences after assuming a work of Terran fiction was fact. Iona, however, didn’t have time for such frivolous research when there was more important work to be done for this mission.
“Or you could argue with CHIP some more,” Moysah muttered.
Before she could rebuff Moysah’s suggestion, a new message from one of her crew crossed the optical screen of her communication center.
EAMES: What if this goes wrong? It can go wrong, you know. It can totally go wrong.
SOLLES: Oh my stars, Eames. Calmness, please. Many calculations were made.
EAMES: What if the Terrans hate us? They usually do, you know.
DEXIN: Usually? What do you mean, usually?
EAMES: Like in that movie you made us watch.
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SOLLES: Specificity is needed. Dexin has made us watch many films.
DEXIN: Eames, buddy. Those aren’t real. Besides, the Terrans have never noticed our presence before. Why should this be any different?
CHIP: They thought they were unstoppable, their mission foolproof, but little did they know there was a grand flaw in their plan.
IONA: CHIP! There’s no flaw. We go in, snatch Axariam, and get out.
EAMES: Maybe CHIP is right. We’re screwed.
SOLLES: Your pessimism is unhelpful, Eames.
CHIP: It was warranted, though. Little did the young Trevvals know what troubles awaited them on the planet below.
IONA: Shut it, CHIP. You, too, Eames.
“So, you’re really not worried?” Moysah asked.
Iona fixed her pilot with a withering stare. “You have time to read the comm log but not enough to back me up?”
“Seems like you had it handled without me.” Moysah shrugged, returning their attention to the nav screen. “Besides, I’ve got a landing to prepare for.”
Iona opened her mouth to argue further, but then Moysah’s words caught up to her. “Landing? Does that mean—”
“Yes, your captainship. If Vidra’s calculations are correct, we’re almost there.”
Vidra nodded in confirmation.
“See?” Moysah inclined their head toward the navigator. “Your brother’s rescue is imminent, assuming nothing goes wrong.”
Iona groaned. “You’re starting to sound like Solles.”
“Better Solles than CHIP.”
Speaking of the troublesome AI, CHIP was still at it in the comm log, not exactly discouraged by Eames.
CHIP: They had not a care for the mistakes they’d made already.
EAMES: What mistakes? CHIP, WHAT MISTAKES?!
CHIP: They had failed to reach the target of their rescue mission to prepare him for extraction.
EAMES: Max doesn’t know we’re coming?
IONA: Max… what an Earth name to go by. It’s Axariam.
EAMES: Do you think he just slapped on an M to sound Terran??
DEXIN: I read an interview where he calls it his “stage name.”
SOLLES: Is it his first stage or his second stage? How many stages are there?
DEXIN: It’s not even his final form!
EAMES: Okay… but the question still stands. You couldn’t reach him to let him know we’re coming to help?
IONA: Have you seen what conditions he lives in? The Terrans have made him one of their idols.
DEXIN: They call them “stars” or “celebrities.”
IONA: Nevertheless, he’s closely monitored and guarded at all times.
“Did you ever consider Max might not want to come home?” Moysah’s voice pulled Iona from her comm port again.
Iona bristled at the use of her brother’s Terran name. She was the only one who still used his Trevval name—Axariam—but that would all change once he returned. “No, I didn’t.” Why would Iona consider that? He was her brother, and he belonged back home. Surely, he hadn’t meant to stay on Earth as long as he had. What was it now, five Earth years?
“Maybe you should.” Moysah’s skin tinged blue as they turned their face away, back toward the nav screen. “Not everyone can be like you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Iona lurched forward, her safety belt preventing her from standing in her indignation, though her voice rose in volume significantly. “My brother was about to graduate—with honors—before he was taken.”
SOLLES: I thought his mission failed.
EAMES: I heard he ran away
IONA: Stop eavesdropping. This conversation doesn’t concern you.
DEXIN: Then stop screaming. We can hear you through the walls.
SOLLES: I fail to understand your assertion, Captain. If Max did not complete his mission, how was he able to graduate with honors?
Ignoring the chat, as Moysah was wont to do, the pilot’s attention remained on their maps as they spoke. “Max is a smart guy. Which is why I think it’s unlikely he failed his mission.”
“What are you implying?” Iona asked.
“You know Max better than anyone, right? Why do you think he hasn’t made an escape?”
Iona didn’t have a reply. The truth was, she thought she’d known her brother. Before, he was on track to become one of the youngest captains the Trevvals had seen in a decade. He was good. Better than Iona, she was loath to admit. Their parents were so happy. Iona would give anything to see her parents’ faces awash with that same pride for her own accomplishments. But Axariam… he hadn’t cared about things like that. He hadn’t cared about much of anything.
SOLLES: How did your brother end up in Monica—
CHIP: Santa Monica. Los Angeles, to be exact. Previous flight logs took him to Toronto, Beijing, and Dull.
DEXIN: Wait… Dull?
VIDRA: It is a location in Scotland.
EAMES: Another city?
VIDRA: City is a generous term.
CHIP: The mission was destined for Perth but missed the mark by approximately fifty kilometers.
IONA: How is this important?
CHIP: It isn’t! I simply aim to add much-needed dimensional flavor to your conversation.
DEXIN: You’re calling us dull?
CHIP: No, I’m calling the landing site of Max’s third mission Dull, which is its name.
IONA: Whatever. The point is, he has always come back. This time won’t be an exception. I’ll make sure of that.
EAMES: So, do you think he’s being held captive or something?
SOLLES: Or maybe he’s been brainwashed.
EAMES: Did you see his last interview with that person, umm…
SOLLES: Mr. Fair? Vanity Fair?
EAMES: The one where he was strapped down to that machine? Forced to spill his secrets?
SOLLES: It is so cruel.
EAMES: I like the one where they forced him to contend with a horde of small beasts.
IONA: You did not just say you like seeing my brother tortured by the Terrans, Eames.
EAMES: The beasts are so cute, though…
VIDRA: They looked very soft. I wonder if we’ll meet any during our mission.
DEXIN: Everybody shut up and look at your feeds.
IONA: A new missive?
DEXIN: Max is on television again!
“Vidra––”
“On it!” Vidra said, her voice squeaky as she pulled up the video feed Dexin had shared with all of them, displaying it on the large screen in place of her navigation charts.
Humans with their painted faces and bold features paraded through the screen in colorful garb. Iona had to admit that while they looked so different—and small compared to herself and her fellow Trevvals—the Terrans had a certain intrigue about them. A human with voluminous golden hair and a glittery blue dress stood on a carpet of vibrant red. In her hand, she held some sort of tool with a long handle inscribed with metallic Terran letters. Perhaps it was a weapon.
“I’m Trixie Pierce, coming to you live from the red carpet in Santa Monica, where later this evening a star-studded guest list will take in the cinematic wonder of Midnight Eyes.
Leading man, Max Spencer, is here with us via satellite to share some juicy details in advance of tonight’s premiere.” A second box came into frame next to the woman with what appeared to be a Terran man, though Iona would recognize her brother anywhere, even with his cloaking device on. “Max, curious minds want to know. What’s been your experience with this project and working with the director? Coming from music to movies, this must have been quite the adventure.”
“I won’t lie. It hasn’t been easy.” Iona’s heart seemed to stop in her chest as the voice of her brother speaking the Terran English language filled her ears.
EAMES: What’s wrong with his face?
DEXIN: The magic of contour and botox!
SOLLES: Is that some other kind of torture?
DEXIN: In a way…
Axariam—or Max, Iona could deign to call him in his disguise—and the Terran laughed together. Iona’s ears filled with a roaring anger, her heart beating a warrior cry in her chest. She would save him. She had to save him.
“Everything you’ve heard… it’s all true. He really puts his actors to work. It’s rough, but honestly? We wouldn’t want it any other way. He pushes us. Makes us dig into ourselves…”
EAMES: Surely this is a cry for help.
SOLLES: If he is being asked to dig into himself, why can’t we see his wounds?
DEXIN: I told you, contour!
“Well, there you have it folks! Don’t miss the enigmatic Max Spencer in Midnight Eyes this weekend. Here’s the trailer now.”
The screen flashed away from them to show an overhead view of misty pine trees as low orchestral notes played in the background, then it cut to a forest path. Words in gold curling letters appeared over it all.
When the beast is inside you…
There was the sound of heavy footfalls and breathing, a shot of a large paw print in the mud, and then… Max. Shirtless and covered in a sheen of sweat, his eyes darted around. The letters returned, snaking up around his shoulders.
There’s nowhere to run.
A chill scurried down Iona’s back. She’d never seen that look on her brother’s face before. It was pure panic, unmitigated fear. They’d also done something to the lower half of his torso—made it look fuller and strangely lumpy. Perhaps it was a result of the torture, though Iona had never seen another Trevval with such symptoms.
“We’ll bring you home. I promise,” she whispered to her brother on the screen, now standing in front of a roaring waterfall, still only half-clothed.
DEXIN: Apparently, Terrans like movies about abs.
SOLLES: What’s “abs”?
CHIP: Abs refer to the appealing feature in Terrans when their abdominal muscles are well-defined, akin to rocks or a sextet of canned beverages bound together with plastic.
“I can’t believe this is my job,” Moysah groaned. “Can we get back to the mission?”
Iona would have liked nothing more, but the image on the screen had changed once more. Max swung a tool over his head, slamming it down to split a piece of wood in half.
“At least they gave him a weapon.” Iona’s chest felt tight as she forced out the words. “I just wish he wasn’t alone in all this.”
“Wish granted, apparently.”
Moysah pointed to the screen, which now depicted Max beside another shirtless Terran. This one had hair growing out of their torso and long hair pulled into a knot behind their head.
SOLLES: What are they doing now?
CHIP: This is when two humans have a meeting of the lips. Also known as kissing.
IONA: That’s disgusting.
EAMES: I don’t know. Maybe it’s nice…
DEXIN: Do you think we should try it?
EAMES: Ew! Not with you!
Moysah, apparently fed up with waiting on Iona’s permission, switched the screen back over to the navigation control panel.
“We’re getting close now. Entering orbit soon,” Vidra said. Her eyes were glued to the nav screen, but her fingers worried over a small metal device in her lap. Nervous as always, but Iona would rather her navigator be nervous than distracted like the others.
IONA: Focus up, everyone. It’s time.
Excerpted from Why on Earth, copyright © 2025, edited by Vania Stoyanova and Rosiee Thor.
