Manipulate (Book 1, Alien Cadets)

Chapter 18

“What do they owe you?” Sam said.

Roland ignored him. “What I can’t figure out is, which clan are you part of? Tell me about yourself, Sam.”

 “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 weregild, or whatever he was ranting about, he wanted to kill.

Roland didn’t even care much about all the people who’d died around the world from the Spo invasion. He’d talked about a friend of his in government who died in the first month of the Spo occupation, but Sam didn’t detect The Spo had done something else with their autocratic rule for six years.

They’d given humanity a unbroken stretch of futility. The Spo dominated Earth without 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 scientists with special viruses to wipe out the aliens. There was no 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. “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. 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 orange 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.”