“Huh.” Sam was reluctant to talk about his personal life with this guy. Roland was demanding and violent and potentially homicidal. He said he wanted payment, but what he really wanted was revenge. He didn’t want a wergild, or whatever he was going on about, he wanted to kill.
Or maybe it was even more subtle than that. Roland didn’t care about all the people who’d died around the world. He’d talked about a friend of his in government who died in the first month of the Spo occupation, but Sam didn’t think Roland had cared very much about that guy. The Spo had done something else with their autocratic rule for six years.
They’d given humanity an unbroken stretch of futility. They’d dominated Earth without even breaking a sweat. Roland had been festering with anger, with a complete inability to effect change. There was no one to appeal to. There were no miracle cures: no scientists with special viruses to wipe out the aliens, no altruistic military to spearhead an attack against them. Even worse, some people felt thankful to the Spo. They felt the Spo had prevented Earth’s destruction.
That ate at Roland. He raged about Stockholm syndrome, victims developing affection for their captors, corrupting the whole planet. Corrupting the cadets, too. They’d “turned earth into a freaking slave whore,” he’d said.
“What clan are you in?” Roland asked again. “Do you even remember? Who is your family?”
“My family live in California,” Sam lied. Roland didn’t deserve his real self. “Three brothers, they work on a vineyard. What about you?"
“Me? Not married. One kid. He’s okay.”
“Is he one of them?” Sam gestured at the men in the lobby, clustered around the TV.
Roland ignored him. “Here’s the thing. I want you to kill the Spo we’ve got.”
Sam stared at him. This was new. “What, and that would pay their bloodguilt as a clan?”
“No. It’s not enough. But I can’t be sure you’re not a Spo pet. If you kill them, at least I know you won’t be their pet anymore.” Roland flicked another cigarette into the corner, taking a drag on the next one.
“I’m not going to kill those two Spo,” Sam said. “I don’t know them, but I’m willing to bet they’re just doing their jobs. I want them off earth too, believe me, but I’m not going to start executing them.”
“Just doing their jobs!” Roland stepped out of the shadows into the yellow glow of the bare bulb.
“They. Are. Spo! They are part of the killing clan. We are owed and they are the murderers.” Roland’s craggy nose was lit up. For a moment he reminded Sam of a book his mom read to him when he was little, The BFG, or Big Friendly Giant. Only Roland was no friendly giant.
“’If they ever leave,’” Roland said, quoting Sam. “You’re not sure if they’ll go, are you? What are you going to do if they don’t?”
“If the trial goes well, humanity will be declared sentient and sane, and the Spo will start to leave. Not all at once, but I do think they’ll go,” Sam said. “The important thing is whether we win the trial as humans, or as wards of the Spo. Killing innocent Spo is not going to get them gone, or make us look good for the trial.”
“Sentiency trial.” Roland sneered. “Who are they to say how smart we are? Who are they to say whether we’re freaking sentient or not!”
“Don’t you get it?” Sam asked. “The Spo aren’t the ones who test us. It’s the Council, a lot of species.”
“Well, and who are they? What makes Earth any of their damn business? Why can’t they leave us alone?”
“That’s not the point,” Sam said. “We drew the notice ourselves, with the Hadron explosion. Now we have to deal with the consequences.”
“You sound just like them,” Roland said.
“And you sound just like the kind of people who got us into this mess!” Sam said, fed up with Roland’s refusal to face facts. “You’ve got an innocent family in there, and two fairly innocent Spo that you want me to kill. What if I did it? What next? Are you going to slaughter that family if the Spo don’t leave tonight?” Sam took a deep breath. ”I thought you might be a reasonable person, someone I could work with. That’s why I came. But you want me to undo the last six years.” Sam strode in front of Roland, getting between him and the door.
“I can’t change the past."
Roland’s eyes narrowed. “You’re one of them.”
“That’s all you can see, isn’t it?” Sam said. “Let me tell you something else. My presence here is protecting you. The Spo can gas you at any moment. They can free those hostages. The minute I walk out that door, you’re done. And you know the Spo policy, right? If you go, so goes your family. Does that kid of yours deserve to die? You ready to sacrifice him for this? How about those guys, and their families? Are you willing to take responsibility for their death?”
“You’re sick,” Roland said, nearly spitting in Sam’s face. “You’re just like them. You lecture me about hostages, but you kill families all the time.”
The sight of those blue bombs in Malaysia surged behind Sam’s eyes. He had been involved in killing those families. More than that, he was part of the Spo program. He shared the guilt for everything they had done.
“But I’m not Spo.” Sam stepped closer to Roland. “So I’ll give you two options. You can let me walk out with Lucio’s family and the Spo, and you can watch the Spo leave Earth after the trial. Or, I walk out of here alone, you’ll die, and the hostages will go free. But I’ll spare your family, because I am not Spo.”
Roland went for his gun. He was no polished cowboy. It took him over two seconds to get his gun out of the back of his pants, which was plenty of time for Sam to use the Spo energy shield. Humans weren’t supposed to use them, but Greg had given him one before he came in.
Sam activated the energy shield and it threw Roland across the room. He smashed into a tool bench against the far wall with a deafening metallic crash and lay still, blood pooling from his head. The way his neck was twisted meant his head wouldn’t bleed long. He was already gone.
The men in the lobby jumped to their feet. Two of them foolishly ran toward the door, and Sam’s next energy wave sent them flailing back into the front desk. They weren’t as close to Sam as Roland had been, so the force was appreciably less.
The other three men took cover in the lobby. Sam pressed his back against the wall, presenting less of a target for them. He inched forward, freezing when one of them took a shot at him. The Spo energy weapon was strong, but it operated in waves. It wouldn’t stop a bullet unless you activated it before you heard the shot, which would be a neat trick indeed. In other words, a bullet would kill him. The next time the shooter popped up Sam sent an energy wave toward him. Most of the orange energy was caught on the low wall between them, but the top of the shooter’s head was still visible. The force wave smacked the top of his head hard, slapping him down to the floor. He wouldn’t be getting up soon.
“Stop, stop!” one of the other guys shouted. “Don’t shoot us! We’ll come out.”
Sam waited a minute, and two middle-aged guys edged slowly out the door, their hands spread wide, palms out.
“Walk towards the outer door,” Sam said, “In front of me.”
They went toward the door, glancing back fearfully.
“Don’t worry, I’m doing you a favor,” Sam said.
Once out the door, Spo surrounded Sam. Greg was one of them, the rest were mostly the Chicago contingent of Spo enforcers
“It’s alright!” Sam said above the noise, partly to calm the Spo, partly to calm the two men who were obviously frightened by the crowd of aliens. “These two surrendered, they helped me overcome the others."
Greg gave him a hard look, but didn’t challenge his statement.
“The other protestors can be collected now. Their families are not to be touched,” Sam said.
Sam himself went to release Lucio’s family. He took the opportunity to invite them to Pepperdine, to the alien academy. The cadets needed to see their families.
Back outside, a cold wind blew and pushed grey clouds across the starry sky. A block away the police had roped off the road to hold back the press and interested bystanders. The police held the line, but the piercing lights of the press cameras lit up the road. A huge crowd rumbled behind the double row of press. The road was four lanes wide, and it was packed with people for nearly two more blocks. It was hard to see how far they went in the dark.
“I’m going to talk to them,” Sam said. “Anything you want to say?”
Greg shook his chitinous head.
“Fine.” As Sam walked up to the barricade the reporters started shouting.
“Sam! Sam! You’re still alive?”
“Did the Spo try to execute you?”
“Tell us more about the trial!”
“What happened in the garage?! Did the hostages survive!”
Not as piercing as the reporters, the rumble of shouts from the crowd grew like a hunger pain.
“We believe you, Sam!”
“Tell us what to do next!”
“Sam’s alive!”
“Can you get rid of the Spo?”
“Sam! Can I have your autograph?”
“Sam? Sam! Sam!”
Everywhere his name was shouted back to him. With curiosity, fear, excitement...Sam tried to isolate the dominant emotion in the crowd. Any crowd held the potential for a mob, the memory of the burning at the carnival remained strong in his head. He didn’t want to inadvertently turn this mob against him. Some were demanding, frightened, wanting answers; others were just shouting for him to sign their arms. It was chaotic, but yet, he sensed that the same thing brought all these people together. It was… hope.
That was it. While the Spo held complete sway, their fears and ambitions and hopes had died. Now, with the advent of change, any change, whatever had been pushed down was surging to the surface. It showed itself differently, but the same feeling had energized them all.
Sam stopped when he was still a few feet away from the barricade. He didn’t want to risk being grabbed and hurled into the mob.
He saw that one of the reporters had a microphone hooked up to a speaker.
He gestured to her, “Can you turn that on?” he asked.
She nodded and mouthed something, flipping switches and tossing him the microphone. Her camera guy hoisted the speaker up on his shoulder, turning to face the crowd.
“Quiet, please,” Sam said. His voice echoed loud and full down the street, echoing slightly off the tall buildings around them. Slowly the crowd quieted.
“The hostages are fine. You probably know they were the family of a cadet, one of my friends, Lucio. They will be going to Los Angeles soon to see him. From now on, the families of the cadets are welcome to visit us. The Spo and I have decided that the policy of separation served its purpose, and is now over.”
The reporters started shouting again, but Sam raised his hand, “Quiet! Please!” he shouted. “There have been rumors surrounding my interview this week, namely that I was executed. As you can see, or at least hear, I am not dead."
The crowd laughed.
“Let me set the record straight. The Spo…tested me…in their own fashion, and I passed. I’m still just a cadet, but they are talking to me now. And when they say that they’ll leave if we win the trial, I believe them.”
Another round of shouting and questions.
“One more thing,” Sam said. “Taking Spo hostages is not acceptable. Taking hostages from cadet families is even worse. The leader of this terrorist attack is dead. He tried to kill me when I refused to shoot the hostages, and in self-defense, I killed him."
Dead silence now.
“I’m telling you this so you’ll know I tell the truth. I’m not going to lie to you. The terrorists who surrendered will not be killed and the family of the leader will not be killed. That’s the Spo way, but it’s not the human way. Understand, we’ve entered a new phase of civilization. However much we might want it, we can’t go back in time. I can’t make things the way they were before the Hadron explosion. The world is a different place, and we’re different people. But, if we pass the trial, Earth will be ours. Completely ours.”
There was still silence.
“I also want to make a plea,” Sam said, staring now into the nearest camera, an NBC one, that had been trained on him the whole time. “This has been covered up, but there is a killer stalking the cadets. Four have disappeared or died, and one has forgotten who he is. Someone is targeting cadets, definitely in Los Angeles, though one girl disappeared in Japan. If you know who is doing this, let us know. The cadets and I are here to serve you. We’re not the Spo. I think I’ve demonstrated that.”
Sam nodded to the crowd. “Time for me to go home now. You too.”
The crowd mumbled at first, but when a few people cheered, it caught on. Sam walked away breathing heavily, with the crowd cheering behind him. It didn’t mean a lot, Sam knew, but it felt nice.
Chapter 21
Sam and Greg sat on an empty airplane on the way back to LA. Sam was pondering the terrorists, the crowds, the botched execution, everything.
“Greg,” Sam said, breaking a long silence. “Things seem to be changing. Somehow, with the execution, things are different, aren’t they?”
“It was a large choice you made,” Greg said. “And a, what is the word? Miraculous escape.”
“And, if I’m not mistaken, that’s changed things for me.”
“Only if you believe it has,” Greg said.
Sam paused. Greg was always this way, leading but not telling.
“Fine. Things have changed. I’ve gained…” Sam almost said power, but that sounded wrong. “You’re listening to me.”
Greg nodded.
“Okay,” Sam said. “With Jonathan and Nat and the others gone, I’ll be the primary witness in the trial? Or will it be one of the others? I know Marisol, from Sao Paolo, was another of your picks.”
“It will be you. I’ve spoken to Gustav.”
“So, tell me. How do we win? What are they looking for?”
Greg hunched forward in his seat, getting more comfortable. “The Hadron explosion… that’s a major problem. The prosecutor will make a lot of it. Survival is sanity. The Hadron explosion could have meant species extinction – that is insanity.”
“That’s not an answer, Greg. I already know what the problem is. You’ve told us often enough the last six years. I need to know the answer now.”
“And I wish I could tell you. But I cannot. There is no answer to know, you must be the answer.”
“How do I become the answer?”
“I can’t tell you. Truly, I cannot. Either you are or are not.”
“Why me? Why not Lucio, or Armen, or even Melanie?"
“That is a good question. It might have been them, but their time has passed. Now there is you.”
Sam sighed. “I guess things haven’t changed as much as I thought. You’re just as obscure as ever.”
“But more hopeful. I am hopeful, Sam.”
“I guess that’ll have to be enough for me,” Sam said. “I’m hanging by a thread here, you know.”
“Survival is sanity,” Greg recited.
Sam laughed. “None of us know what that means, you know. Or at least what you mean by it. Six years, and we still don’t get it. I think that’s one of those Spo things that’s not true for humanity. You remember, you told me that our first day back.”
“What is sanity for humans then?” Greg asked.
Sam frowned. “I’m not sure.” He gave Greg a hard look. “I need to know, don’t I? It’s important to the trial.”
Greg said nothing, and Sam continued the trip in silence. Sanity for Earth. What was sanity?
Back at Pepperdine, Sam went into Nat’s empty room. The dorm was silent, the cadets scared and upset. Oh Li’s murder, right after Jia and Nat and Sam’s almost-execution, had wilted everyone’s spirits. No one knew what was going on. Jonathan’s kidnapping could have bee
n the work of a Rik agent. Now that Downy had spilled the Rik threat to Sam, Greg admitted that they suspected the Rik of trying to throw the trial.
But Oh Li and Jia made no sense. The Rik had no reason to kill them. And the spectacular nature of Oh Li’s murder, similar to the horrible graffiti left on the tower their first week, seemed completely bizarre.
And none of that explained the fact that Nat and her sister were missing. Someone must have wanted them for a specific purpose, not just to trick Nat into leaving. What purpose?
Sam tried to think of every event he could link together: Jonathan’s poisoning, Nat and Akemi kidnapped, Jia, Oh Li, the tower… so much slaughter. How did they fit together?
Greg knocked and came in. He crouched in a sitting position next to the bed.
“I know you miss her,” Sam said.
Greg nodded. “Nat was smarter than you.”
“She IS smarter than me,” Sam said. “Wherever she is.”
“We suspect the Rik have taken her and her sister. The way Jonathan was wiped, it is similar to Rik killing with sasoikeo,” Greg explained. “The Rik are the prosecutors in your trial.”
“Whoa – the Rik are the prosecutors?” Sam asked.
“Yes. It’s a trial. There is defense and prosecution. The Rik are the prosecutors. They want you condemned. Then they will take Earth. You know they want it, but you don’t realize how important they are to your trial.”
“Somehow I thought the Council was the prosecution, though I know you’re the defense,” Sam said.
“No. The Council is the impartial judge. The Spo face against the Rik in this issue.”
Greg gestured at himself. “Why else would we go to so much trouble?”
Sam laughed, and groaned. “I don’t know. Galactic busybodies?”
“We feel a certain amount of guilt. It was made law, generations ago, that at the next sentiency trial, the Spo would be defense. We failed the Rik.”
“The Rik?” Sam asked. “I don’t get it. You just said they were the bad guys.”
“The original Rik were not. They were an interesting species. Mathematically artistic. But they also went to trial, and lost. The unnamed ones took their planet and their species. We don’t know where they came from, but we know that they take over new species, when they tire of one. The unnamed ones are now the Rik. The original Rik have ceased to exist.”
Manipulate (Alien Cadets) Page 17
