Manipulate (Alien Cadets)

by Corrie [kids] Garrett

  THE TRIAL IS STARTING

  RIK ARE VERY CONFIDENT

  “WHAT?” Nat exclaimed. “The trial isn’t for three days! And the Galactic Council won’t let them invade Earth."

  But of course, the computer, or Akemi, if it was really her, still couldn’t hear her. Nat punched the screen in frustration and the dangling cuffs scratched its smooth finish.

  SOMETHING IS HAPPENING TO ME.

  THEY ARE INITIATING JUMP

  Pause.

  HANG ON A SEC

  The engines started, speeding the ship into the correct velocity for jump.

  Nat blinked at the screen.

  The airlock was still programmed to open. It would kill them both.

  Nat ran for the airlock. Only seconds until they jumped. Maybe Akemi fixed what she did to the airlock, but maybe not. Nat had to turn off the command before the ship entered jump, or she and Akemi would die, again. And they had so much to do. They had to get back to Earth and warn Sam. They had to get their evidence to the trial.

  The lights lining the hallway floor blinked red, warning passengers of the approaching jump. Nat felt like she was in a nightmare. She had to move. FAST. But in her panic she tripped over her own feet. Her sense of balance was all off, probably from that last weapon blast, and she crashed to the floor.

  The flashing lights were inches from her eyes now. The blinking red seemed like an audible scream in her ears. She stumbled up and lunged the last few feet to the airlock.

  The screen was still black, with Akemi’s last words on there.

  WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE AIRLOCK?

  Nat touched the screen, resetting it. She only needed a few more seconds, but any moment could be too late.

  The screen returned to its usual green, with four selections available. As Nat thumped the security icon, the screen turned into a blur. She felt her body shift, like an elevator taking off sideways, and she cried out. The Jump. She was too late.

  Chapter 27

  Shara’s face felt broken. She wished she had a mirror to see if her cheekbone looked as swollen as it felt.

  Downy was determined to keep her quiet. That much was certain. She could probably blurt out enough to incriminate him before he could silence her for good, but would that help her?

  She wouldn’t be ashamed to betray her species. The Rik future might be at stake, but they weren’t here. She was here, and when it came down to it, her first priority was herself. How could it be otherwise?

  Getting caught was bad, though. If she revealed the Rik plot to the humans, that could be worse. If her boss ever got hold of her after such a betrayal, the results would be horrific. One of the only imaginative areas of the Rik psyche was punishment.

  On the other hand, if she betrayed her people and helped Sam, and the humans won… would they allow her to stay? Could she bargain for that?

  Or, if she tried to help the humans, would Downy kill her anyway?

  Shara felt stuck. Sam and Greg pelted her with questions as the shuttle took off. She remained silent, pressing a hand over her burning face. Occasionally she dabbed the blood from her split lip. She wiped it on her shirt, for lack of other options, though it bothered her, even now, to soil her new turquoise blouse.

  “If you don’t respond,” Sam said. “We have to assume you’re a Rik operative. As such, you will be executed immediately after the trial.”

  She was silent. Looking at the floor, and Downy’s clawed feet.

  “Shara,” Claudia said, the first time she’d spoken, “They say you didn’t kill one of the cadets you took, Jonathan. Why not? Can you tell us that, at least?”

  Shara looked at Claudia. Claudia still wanted to help her, even though she’d nearly been shot when Shara tried to kill Sam. That was sweet.

  “I kind of liked him,” Shara said, no harm in giving that away. “The first dose of sasoikeo might have killed him, but it didn’t, and I didn’t want to give him anymore."

  Downy shifted uneasily. He liked her silence, wasn’t comfortable with her talking, even if it wasn’t related to him.

  “Then, you can understand,” Claudia said. “You know what it’s like to want to save someone. We want to save Akemi and Nat, if they’re still alive. We want to save us. Do you understand that?”

  “I do.” Shara said. “But – ”

  “Sam tells me you’re Rik. He says you want to destroy us. But I don’t believe him. Look at that shirt you’re wearing. Those boots. When we talked last week you asked me to go shopping with you. You don’t hate Earth at all, do you?”

  Now Shara’s eyes were burning, and she was surprised to feel a tear running down her cheek.

  “I don’t,” she said, thinking of the beautiful outlet store she shopped at only yesterday. She pictured Jonathan stealing a kiss at the Hollywood Bowl; she remembered talking with Akemi for hours on the airplane.

  “I like humans, for the most part. But I don’t have a choice. They’ll kill me if I talk to you.” Her eyes flickered to Downy.

  Claudia caught the look. “They’ll kill you? Or he will?” she said.

  “One or the other.”

  “This is useless!” Downy said. “You’re not going to talk a Rik into a guilty confession. They don’t feel guilt. Do you remember Oh Li’s body?”

  Sam and Greg grimaced. The shuttle jolted as the secondary thrusters kicked in, pushing them out past Earth’s atmosphere.

  “Downy might have a point,” Sam said. “You slaughtered Oh Li. You nearly killed Jonathan. Nat and Akemi are gone.” He paused. “The sheep you slaughtered by the tower were revolting, but I should have known then that the artwork was alien.”

  Shara was caught off guard. “What sheep?”

  “The sheep, the ones you sliced up just like Oh Li."

  “I’m not… I didn’t kill any sheep,” Shara said. Was this a trick?

  “She sounds honest,” Claudia said.

  “Oh please,” Downy said. “She’s a Rik, she’s a liar.”

  “He could be right,” Greg said. “But why would she deny this, and not the others?”

  “What if – what if she didn’t kill them?” he said.

  “What are you thinking?” Greg asked.

  “Oh Li, Jia, and the sheep are linked by style. Jonathan was totally different. Nat and Akemi disappeared, but there was no sign of violence. What if we’ve got two people at work here?” Sam asked.

  “She shot at us!” Downy exclaimed. “That’s plenty violent.”

  “With a gun,” Sam replied. “She tried to kill us with a gun. I think the person who killed Oh Li likes to be close.” He thought for a minute, and then leaned toward Shara. “How about a deal?”

  With a loud clang, the shuttle docked with the orbiting spacecraft.

  “How about a deal?” Sam asked Shara.

  Downy unbuckled and got out of his seat. “We’re here. And unless I’m much mistaken, you don’t have the authority to make a deal with the Rik. Humans are not a sentient race. Yet.”

  Sam stared at Downy.

  Greg was looking at Downy too, obviously surprised.

  “As a matter of fact, he’s right,” Greg said. “Humans don’t have the authority to pardon a prisoner of war from an alien species. As your sponsors, only we can make a deal.”

  “Seriously?” Sam demanded. “You’re going to get all legal on me now? We’ve got to find out what she knows before the trial."

  “Considering we’re going into a galactic trial, I’m afraid this is exactly the time to get legal,” Greg said.

  “You’d rather go into trial not knowing what she knows?” Sam asked.

  “There will be time for witnesses,” Greg said. He included Shara, Downy, and even Claudia in his gaze. “I can call anyone during the trial.”

  Sam snorted. “I can’t believe this.”

  They boarded the space station, and Greg led them to the same room where Sam’s personal trial had been, after he exposed the truth on TV. There were chairs set out this time. Obviou
sly this was going to be a longer trial than last time.

  “What about the other cadets?” Sam said. “Aren’t we all witnesses for the trial? Technically?”

  “They represent Earth. You’ll represent them. They are in the adjoining rooms, watching the proceedings live. I can call them to answer questions as needed.”

  Sam nodded. “What about her?” He gestured at Shara. “We can’t leave her alone.”

  “The containment room. We’ll lock her up in an empty trouncer cage until we need her,” Greg said. “Downy, Claudia, Chris – all of you must go wait with the cadets. Only the defense and the primary witness, Sam and I, are to be in the room with the prosecutor and the Council.”

  “They’re here?” Sam asked. “I thought they would be communicating on screen.”

  Greg shook his head. “The Council will be on screen, but the prosecutor is here.”

  Chris and Claudia left the room, Claudia hugging Sam one more time.

  “Get Shara to talk to you,” Claudia said. “She’s ready to break. You can do it.” Then they were gone.

  Two minutes later a big, black man entered the room, bowing to Greg.

  “Who are you?” Greg asked. “We are expecting the Rik prosecutor.

  The black guy smiled. “Don’t you recognize me, Greg? My name is Tishing. We met some years ago and spoke about my, ah, experiments. Don't you recall?”

  ***

  Akemi didn’t feel like a computer. Except that she indisputably was a computer, so now she knew what they felt like, and it wasn’t all that different from being a teenage girl. She had more multitasking complexity now, but it was a lot like watching TV while texting a friend, talking to her mother, and typing a term paper. Which she’d done.

  The real difference was the sheer amount of information available to her. The computational part of the computer was boring, but the video archives it held were fascinating. Photos, videos, transcripts of secret communications – it was like finding the Facebook page of the Rik people. All their dirty secrets on display.

  She’d shown Nat the biggest bits – the Hadron explosion, the invasion fleet heading past Mars – but now she couldn’t think about that.

  Part of the computer, the part that wasn’t her (and yet was, at the same time) had been activated remotely. That part of the computer was gearing up for a small jump in hyperspace. It was doing the calculations to enter jump at the correct angle and velocity (so that it would exit at the correct angle and velocity, which was very important), and it really didn’t care that she didn’t want to go. It was like having a song stuck in her head. The computer was calculating and recalculating in her mind, and she couldn’t turn the stupid thing off.

  Oh, and as if that wasn’t enough to worry about, she’d noticed Nat doing something funny with the airlock before she’d gotten her attention. She should figure out what that was. This jump thing was stressful. Plus, she had the distinct feeling that in a few minutes, when the jump started, the whole mess would be in her hands. She could swear the computational computer was feeling a little smug about it, too.

  Well, first things first. She didn’t want Nat sucked into limbo by a faulty airlock. Akemi started to undo that mess, while another part of her tried to figure out what she needed to do during the jump. The computational computer wasn’t being really forthcoming.

  And then, as fast as Akemi’s new computer brain could blink, they were in the jump, and she had no more time to think.

  Her brain flooded with data. Not the kind of flood you get from a faulty bathtub faucet. The Pacific Ocean sloshed and landed in her lap. Their ship didn’t exist, and it did. It only existed in her mind, and her mind was the ship. Where it would re-exist was up to her. The possibilities dumped on her were infinite. Actually infinite, which was a concept her maths teacher had never explained very well.

  So many places. In the first instant she ruled out half of the infinity that was not in her space-time continuum. But half of infinity was still infinite. So instead of ruling out, she selected the ones near planetary bodies. Hundreds of thousands choices still remained. But not infinite.

  Then the computational computer gave its vote. It told her where she was supposed to go, which still included three hundred possible configurations of existence.

  Couldn’t you have told me that before? Akemi thought fleetingly.

  But an instantaneous review of those few hundred didn’t please her. She could practically count them on her fingers. They weren’t any good.

  No, she told the computational computer. She opened up the possibilities again. Let’s go to Earth. Um… but lets avoid the fleet.

  Her velocity was all wrong to jump all the way to Earth. The closest place to Earth with her current velocity vector, however… that was a simple calculation. From Mars to Earth’s moon was a small jump indeed. With a thump of satisfaction that made the computational computer scream, Akemi chose the jump.

  As she did so, she noticed a warning signal that had gotten lost in the ocean of numbers.

  “Airlock breach,” it said. “Depressurization.”

  “Oh shoot,” Akemi thought. She slammed the airlock door shut and the ship emerged in uneasy orbit around the moon. How much oxygen had they lost? She did a quick diagnostic. The air was thin, but still life sustaining. As long as Nat hadn’t been right next to the door…

  NAT?

  TOUCH THE SCREEN IF YOU’RE ALIVE

  PLEASE

  PLEASE

  PLEASE

  Chapter 28

  Tishing smiled urbanely at Greg and Sam.

  Greg turned a rich orange with anger.

  “You come here, like that?” he demanded. “As a human?”

  “Confidence is not a crime,” Tishing said. “And I’m not the one on trial here.”

  “I don’t get it,” Sam said. “I thought the prosecutor was a Rik?”

  “He is a Rik,” Greg bit out. “He stole that body and inhabited it.”

  Sam’s eyes widened. “Can he do that?”

  “Technically, no. But if he wins the trial, it won’t matter anymore,” Greg said.

  Tishing smiled. “Nat says hello.”

  Sam lunged out of his chair, but Greg stopped him with an arm to the chest.

  “He wants you to attack him. It will make his case stronger.”

  Sam glared. “But if he has Nat – he’s broken the law! He should be thrown out!”

  Greg held him back. “The trial has started. No other matters, criminal or civil, will be considered until this trial is complete. He knows it.”

  Sam backed down. Galactic justice wasn’t the same as human justice, but he had to bow to their authority for now. He sat back in his chair.

  “When humans are on the Galactic Council,” Sam said, looking at Tishing, “Things will be handled a little differently.”

  Laughter from the screen surprised Sam. He turned forward to see that the huge screens had flickered on while he was distracted. Twenty four members of the Council sat in a double semi-circle facing him. The Crosspoint and the Merith in the council were laughing.

  “Very bold, this one,” said a Crosspoint. “I like them excessively.” Sam noticed that the body paint on that Crosspoint formed a star of David and wondered briefly if the little alien knew what that was.

  The one Merith who had laughed became quiet and raised his muscled arms for silence. He sat behind a personal screen, and the reflected light from it lit up his one moist eye.

  “The Councilors who comprise the sub-committee of Sentient Acceptance and Dispute will now hear the case of humanity, for planet Earth. I am Faal, Merith representative and spokesperson of the Councilors. Make yourselves known to the Council.”

  Greg bow/crouched in the formal way of his race, and recited, “I present myself for inspection to the representatives of the Galactic Council. I am Greg, representing the Spo, the sponsors of humanity. I offer my experience, knowledge, and character in defense of humanity’s sentience and sanity.” He rose
from his bow.

  Tishing bowed next, in a clipped, military style. “I present myself for inspection to the representatives of the Galactic Council. I am Tishing, representing the Rik, the prosecutors of humanity. I offer my experience, knowledge, and character in denial of humanity’s sentience and sanity.” He added a few more sentences to his formula than Greg. “As a member of a species on probation, I recognize that should my case fail, my species will remain in probation for the duration of four generations.”

  Sam glared at Greg. Never had he mentioned that the prosecutors, the Rik, were also on probation. Apparently, if humanity won, that would be a direct loss to the Rik, they would remain on probation another four generations. Talk about motivation.

  Tishing began to sit, but Greg halted him. “A point, Councilors. This man, representing the Rik, is clearly using a human body. There is no precedent for taking a specimen before the trial. His action is illegal.”

  None of the Council looked surprised. The Merith spokesperson nodded. “That is an illegal action. It will be addressed following the trial. However, this trial has begun and will not be paused or ended until humanity’s sentience status has been determined. The prosecutor’s actions are not in question.”

  Greg nodded, and they both sat. Greg squatted over a Spo couch, but Tishing leaned back in a comfortable chair and crossed one leg over the other.

  “Please present the human sample,” the Merith said.

  Greg was still angry, but Sam could see him force it away.

  “This is Sam Locklear, of the human species,” he said calmly. “As you see in my report, genetically he is within .02 deviations of the planetary standard. Racially he is descended of the TranSiberian indigenous peoples, or Native Americans.”

  Sam blinked at that. His dad was from El Salvador…his mother was Pueblo Indian. Tran Siberian… that sounded more impressive.

  “His progress in Spo training was exemplary. He can speak Spo and Merith with moderate facility. With further training, he could be advanced. The rest of the human sample, over two hundred, performed similarly, or within a very small margin. They represent ninety-eight percent of humanity’s genetic diversity.”