by Li Hill
Tom owed a debt.
"I would like—"
Iilo's phone buzzed. The sound was so normal, it struck Tom as outrageous that a member of a species from another planet would be holding an iPhone. He watched Iilo's face pale, lips turning downward. Iilo's gaze shifted to Carlos.
"If I leave, will you ever listen? I understand you're scared, but I'm scared too. But the people I can count on gets littler every day," he said. "I know what you can do is limited. But I need someone from the outside to help us. And—you're safe."
"How do you even know that? How'd you even find me?" It wasn't that Tom wasn't glad for this chance to make some sort of amends. It was the circumstance. An I'na shows up at his door and knows Tom took someone's life in the war and knows that Tom hadn't experienced any effects from contact with their blood. Or at least any effects Tom could see. He wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't develop a strange form of cancer later down the line.
"I have to go. Just—if you come here…" Iilo leaned forward and grabbed a legal pad and pen from Tom's desk. "I promise I'll explain everything. I just need more time." He dropped the pen and stood up, his arms tucked safely around the shoebox again. "Please?"
Tom nodded. He needed time to process this anyway. It wasn't unheard of for the American government to lie to its people, but everything else? Corrosive properties or whatever Iilo had said? That, Tom needed a moment to understand.
"Come tomorrow." Iilo scurried out of the room and toward the door.
Tom was so stunned by the abrupt exit that he didn't realize Carlos moved until he had a hand on Tom's shoulder.
"Think he's okay?" Carlos asked.
"I don't know."
He felt like a train barreling toward the end of the tracks, moving too fast to stop. He'd crash and tumble into the earth, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Just as abruptly as Iilo had sat down, he'd left. But he'd left an explosion in his wake.
Tom didn't want to know. After everything the government took from him—good dreams, the enjoyment of a crowded room, every damn movie about the military—he didn't want to deal with them again. He'd moved to Seward because Nebraska was the most unassuming state he could think of. He'd run away.
But apparently, he hadn't run far enough.
Chapter Two
The I'na lived out on a flat expanse of land with cows around the property lines, far enough out that Seward was a distant memory behind the curve of the Earth. The land was owned by a company called BrightStart that was all for stimulating I'na economics and giving them a place to live when the government didn't let them own property. Tom didn't mind the drive when he could just sit back and read while his car drove itself.
He gasped when he first saw the settlement. Shimmering towers of jagged metal jabbed out of the earth, like the mouth of a beast. The buildings pulsed with light ranging from subtle blues to white so bright it hurt Tom's eyes. In the middle of their jagged architecture was a Victorian house that threatened to become toothpicks in the wind—a reminder that this was in fact Earth. I'na walked among the repurposed scraps of ships. The lights, the spiraling towers that rivaled the pine trees encircling the area, all did nothing to phase the I'na, but Tom was vibrating.
He'd almost forgotten they weren't just foreign. They were alien.
Tom stared as the car found a place to park. Big black bulbs hung from graying stems. The I'na had successfully terraformed large plots of land for flora native to Inaan. For such a colorful people, their plants looked more dangerous than inspiring. The plants sprawled all over the ground, like rotten pumpkins with eager vines. Tom pressed himself to the window, lip quivering in disgust. Did they eat that?
The car shut off on the side of the two-way road. Tom peered out at the marvel of what he thought was a cyberpunk dystopia. While a few adults watched, I'na children played with a soccer ball, kicking it in the dusty grass and doing their best to avoid thick wires that lined the ground like veins all the way to the Victorian home. Most wore human clothing. Tom only saw a few with bulky angular pieces that hid their lithe frames beneath. The same pulse that hummed in their spiraling community pulsed within their breastplates. Armor. He remembered it from First Contact.
Tom's attention drew to a gathering of I'na in a circle. A few knocked the skull side of their heads together. Others held hands around them. It almost looked like a fight, except the ones in the middle began crying and holding each other.
"What the actual fuck?"
An I'na wearing black armor looked Tom's way. Not wanting to cause a scene, Tom decided it was time to get a move on.
He got out of the car, letting the door shut itself. He felt a tingle slowly climb up his back, clawing into his shoulders. It hadn't occurred to Tom that he'd find himself afraid of the amount of I'na here. With each one that looked his way, he didn't know how he'd be greeted. Here, he was the outsider. And if they knew what he'd done? He was certain there'd be no warm welcome.
I'na children stopped playing, their purple-flushed faces draining to porcelain blue. Tom pretended it didn't bother him when they looked at him, eyes sharp enough to sneak under his skin and dive into his bloodstream. Orange eyes. Red eyes. Bright, glowing. The ground was hard to walk on, but he wasn't sure if it was from his shallow breathing or the uneven Nebraskan countryside.
He walked up to the female who'd been watching him, doing his best to appear like he wasn't vibrating right out of his skin. First Contact was behind them. That didn't make the memory any more distant. It was always there, nestled right in the pit of Tom's stomach.
The I'na's hair was adorned with braids spilling over her shoulders. Within her hair hung pulsing gems. They fizzled in and out, casting reflections against her light-blue skin. Tom had seen gems like that before. They'd been inside weapons.
He gulped. "I need to see Iilo? Do you know Iilo?"
The female blinked a few times, her complexion warming to a pretty sky blue. She had the same splattering of freckles Iilo did. A playful canvas in varying shades of purple, pink, and blue over the bridge of her nose.
Tom heard the children resume their play. He watched another pair of I'na enter the circle, only to bash their skulls together before falling into a crying mess. He raised a brow at the display.
Tom felt eyes all over him and could feel the whispers on the breeze. They were watching him. Like they knew what kind of monster had found its way to their home. He expected the towers to bend, using their teeth to cut into his flesh.
"He's inside. I'll get him for you," the female said.
Tom watched her enter the closest spire to them. The door rolled open, but Tom could see nothing but a spilling of red light from inside. Then it shut. He pressed his hands to his slacks. Awkwardly, he waved at a pair of staring children. They shrieked in laughter and ran over to what Tom assumed were their parents.
Tom looked over to the patch of black bulbous plants again. They glittered soft when up close. Entranced, Tom moved closer. He reached down to touch the gray vines when a spindly hand came out and snatched his wrist.
"Kill you," the I'na said.
Tom jerked his hand back, heart beating against his eardrums. "It's poisonous?"
The I'na shrugged, a smirk on their face. "It eats what comes. Like Venus Flytrap?"
Tom looked at the plant again, a new sense of horror at the base of his spine.
"He's lying," someone said.
Tom looked up, relief relaxing his aching muscles. Iilo stood beside the I'na who went to find him.
The ID mark on her head was like Iilo's. His was a spiral shaped more like a square; hers was inverted in its spiral. Where his had intricate smaller circles around it, hers had jagged etchings, making it look like her head was about to explode.
"X'me doesn't eat anyone. We eat it. It's the only plant we can have outside with your sun. Our planet was mostly dark."
"Oh." Tom shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling foolish. The other I'na laughed before leaving. Tom was sure he'd tel
l all his friends about how he'd tricked the dumb human about a man-eating plant.
"Inaraa, this is Tom Raddoc. The attorney I told you about."
The woman next to Iilo gasped. She smacked the bone side of her head against Iilo's and spoke in their native tongue. Tom didn't need an interpreter to know she was angry with him. Her face flushed pink.
Tom cringed, itching to leave and sulk at home with his dog. He'd expected hostility. Humans hadn't been kind to I'na. Tolerant enough, but kind? No. Tom had read a whole Law Review article on immigration laws and why the US government hadn't been justified in one: keeping all the I'na within its borders; and two: not letting the I'na have their own social services aside from a police and health system. Tom had tried to put First Contact behind him, which meant ignoring the I'na for the most part. Guilt filled his legs like sand. He'd been wrong to do that.
Tom spotted another car while Iilo spoke to the woman. It was all shiny, new, and white. Someone else was here. Tom looked around but saw no other human. Either they were still in the car, or they'd moved fast enough that Tom hadn't seen.
"This is my sister." Iilo motioned to the woman beside him. "Inaraa. She's—"
"Not happy you're here," Inaraa said. She crossed her arms over her breastplate. "I'm not going to be part of this conversation." She stalked off, hands balled and shoulders raised.
"I'm sorry," Iilo said. "I'm not exactly a shining beacon of I'na obedience."
Tom quirked a brow.
"Come inside. I'll explain."
His mouth tasted slightly sweet the closer he got to Iilo's spire. Up close, Tom could see human-made bolts and sheets of metal that helped build up the structure. Decommissioned spaceships weren't exactly easy to transform into homes, yet the I'na had done it.
They'd also done what humans only dreamed of: space travel. For that, Tom was sure more humans than most would admit resenting the I'na. Humanity's curiosities and wonders looked to the stars, but the stars had come to them. It created tension and embarrassment. Tom wondered if people would feel better knowing that their steel mills had helped create the compound the I'na in Seward had.
"You feeling okay?" Iilo asked.
"What?"
Iilo touched the door, and it rolled open with a soft hiss. Inside was awash with the same hum of light from outside. It flickered from intense to soft hues of red. The interiors were small and cramped. Tom saw only human-made furniture—a couch and TV. In the corner of the circular room was a dining table that looked molded from ice and not metal. Tom was surprised it wasn't cold when he touched it.
"It's a jelly from Inaan. We sculpt from it and let it harden beneath the moonlight. It's like a plastic." Iilo slipped into a transparent chair and motioned for Tom to sit across from him.
"I didn't mean to leave like that," Iilo said. He pressed his fingers to the table's smooth surface. "My sister's part of our Elect here. I petitioned them to see you and they denied it. But—I'm ignoring that."
"Are you sure?" Tom furrowed his brow. Iilo had a fire in him that Tom had missed in their first meeting. He glowed, and not just from the gems that pulsated around them, but from his very core. Tom had taken Iilo for timid, but he seemed bolder and cleverer now. He'd brought the very attorney he'd been told not to see to their homes, publicly and in front of everyone. It was a statement.
"Sure that I brought you?" Iilo tilted his head. "You're in my dining room."
Tom nearly laughed. "I meant about me. Bringing me. I don't—as I said before—I don't know what I can do about a kidnapping. And I don't want your people to be upset about me."
"They're always upset," Iilo said with a shrug. He looked at his fingernails and scowled. "Rather—we're always upset. I've been told this is the Land of the Free, but all your people do is put more travel restrictions and property bans on us."
Tom looked away. He'd heard the droning of the daily news when he got ready for work. But just like the military, Tom had tried to put the I'na behind him too. It was privilege at its highest to be able to turn off the sufferings of another. Now that suffering was in the same room; Tom was in his home.
"What can I do for you?" Tom asked, because thinking about his failures as a person wasn't something he was ready to have a conversation with himself on. He'd save that for three in the morning when he couldn't sleep.
"Let me get you something." Iilo vanished from the room only to come back with a leather journal. Its spine was beaten, and parts of it looked chewed on.
"This explains a lot of what I'm telling you. I started collecting it when First Contact was over and peace talks began." Iilo shoved the journal Tom's way.
Tom flipped through its pages, which were thick from clippings and other ephemera glued inside. There were notes about immigration reform, failings of American government, sticky notes about movies to watch—whatever Iilo felt like putting inside. Tom paused when he saw official government documentation.
"You weren't supposed to be one of the squads that got too close. Your government only wanted a few of you to get close. But then we jumped your squad and… you didn't die."
Tom's fingers tingled. He was holding a holy grail of deceit. He'd been a good soldier: He'd taken orders from his superiors and led his team with respect and kindness. He'd fought hard to keep his team alive. His payment? A laundry list of mental health issues he struggled with daily and a big fat sword in his back.
"How do you have this?" The room grew darker for a moment, like the walls could hear the question. Tom looked around, deeply unsettled by how angular everything was. The walls jutted and bent like the rectangular shape of Iilo's ID. Metal and gem alike hummed with the power the gems gave to run the settlement. A power that reminded Tom at each moment that he was not welcome here, even if Iilo said otherwise.
"It was payment for helping translate my people's words so we could make peace. I got to be at peace talks because I learned English. From Voyager. Though a lot of I'na know English now, some better than me."
"So the government lied to us. Is still lying to us." Tom said. He didn't mean to sound bitter, but he was exhausted. He didn't want to give this country anything more than his taxes. He winced. "Let's just talk about you. I don't—I'm not ready for all that."
Iilo reached out, but his hand froze in the air. He pulled it back like he'd been burned and stared at his lap.
Tom waved it off, shrugging. "I didn't die, remember? If you touch me, I won't combust or whatever." He hoped it would make Iilo smile.
Iilo's eyes rounded, his irises a gentle fire from the glow of the gems. He nodded, face flushing purple. "That's not how it works."
"What can I do for you?" Tom had said those words so many times, he heard them even in nightmares. Client upon client. Story upon story. Each one not unlike another, but not entirely the same. The laws and themes mostly trickled from one case to the next, but the people were always so different. Iilo was already unlike anyone Tom had ever met before.
"Two hundred of us were here. We've lost about twenty over the span of a few months. At first, we just thought they were exploring. Big new world. But then the travel restrictions started, and we still saw so many just vanish." Iilo cleared his throat. "But we never heard from them, and they never came back. Then a few days ago, a friend of mine went missing." Iilo tugged at the hem of his shirt sleeve. He sucked in a shaky breath, eyes so dark they were almost black.
Tom sat back, letting the hum of the room be the only sound. He stayed quiet for so long that he noticed the sparkles beneath Iilo's skin. They glowed like reflections of the sun against a river, flowing down into his fingertips.
"So what do you think's happening?" Tom finally asked.
"I know someone kidnapped them. We know our lives are at stake here." Iilo shoved back with a huff. "I would give anything to leave this planet. But we know better. We play by the rules, and we couldn't get a ship in flight even if your government didn't have satellites trained on all our settlements." He sniffed, his face blanching.
"We wanted to build a wall. Except the fucking company that owns the property said we couldn't. We're not even allowed to own land!"
Tom did the only thing he could. He listened.
"I don't want my people to be scared every time we try to learn about humans. And humans won't learn anything about us if they don't want us near them. Someone is taking us, and our Elect won't do anything about it. Like how they wouldn't even let me see you. It's like no one cares that this is all we got." Iilo tucked his legs up to his chest. He rested his chin atop a knee and sighed. "Every few years, we'd lose another ship in space. One would just stop reporting in or we'd watch the zin go out."
"The what?"
Iilo pointed to the gems in the walls. "Our sun wasn't as strong as yours, well at first." He paused to look rest his hands on one of the gems. "Inaan literally absorbed all it could. It held our sun's light in these. But they don't last forever."
Tom grit his teeth. False sympathy wouldn't change the suffering Iilo had experienced on the ship. He'd abandoned his people once because he didn't have a choice; it was clear to Tom that Iilo refused to do it again.
"I don't know how your laws work. But one officer already told me about jurisdiction and he didn't want to hear the rest of it, and I know mine are already silent because the Elect said to be. I need a human to help me make someone listen."
"And it's me because I'm immune to you or whatever?"
"Because your blood neutralizes ours, yes."
"Jesus." Tom scratched his fingers through his blond hair. "Just tell me the government didn't pump me full of something so that'd happen." He remembered being ordered to stay back from skirmishes. But then that didn't happen and he'd been in quarantine for two months for observation. He'd thought it was all to protect him from illness or new germs. He'd had no idea it had been so they could study him.
