by Li Hill
Iilo's eyes widened before a wide smile cracked across his face. "You were one!"
"And I was sticky and I smelled!" Tom didn't mean to keep derailing the conversation. But if he was going to help Iilo possibly confront a disinterested cop, he needed to know as much as Iilo did. "Has anyone taken a more inappropriate interest in any I'na? Touching? Especially without consent? Maybe some unwanted marriage proposals."
"No marriage proposals, but that's funny. And we've had some cultural misunderstandings. Do those count?"
"Did any of the I'na involved go missing?
"No." Iilo sighed. "See my problem? I get why the Elect thinks this is just a bunch of runaways, but then why do they go so far to ask us not to speak about them in case they're dead?"
That was peculiar. But Tom didn't know the I'na. If the Elect had a good faith reason to assume the possibility of the missing I'na being dead, then who was he to challenge it? But then there was Iilo, and he knew the I'na better than Tom. But trusting Iilo on blind faith was a lot for Tom to go on. He could hear his 3L criminal law professor: "Prove it." They needed proof.
"Do you think the Elect could be hiding something? Would there be anything to back that up?" Tom asked bluntly.
Iilo stared at his hands on the table. He'd splayed them wide, and the table's imperfect molding showed the digits as distorted and longer than they were. "I don't like to think that our government is as cruel as yours."
Tom nodded. He didn't like to think his own government was cruel, but then they'd used the Army, Navy, even the Marines as scientific cannon fodder. Tom had a bone to pick with them; he just didn't know how he'd take the first swing. But maybe that started here with Iilo.
"So no proof other than missing persons, no strange visitors, the Elect being cautions—yet from my understanding—culturally respectable. Do you have anything other than a gut feeling? I don't wanna be a jerk, but, this is a lot, and if you think a cop's gonna go off gut-feeling alone, well, I hate to tell you that's not the case."
"You don't believe me." Iilo shrugged, slumping back onto the seat. "If something wasn't going on, then why is everyone so scared to speak about it? I need human police to investigate this. I need the Elect to believe me."
"Then you need to give them proof, Iilo. I can help you gather evidence and compose it into an argument for persuasion, but we need something more than just photos in a shoebox. I need dates they went missing, possible witnesses—are their homes still in the same shape as they left it or have things been changed? Does the Elect quickly shuffle the issue away or do they look at each missing I'na in a new light? Is there anyone other than you who can attest to kidnappings and not just runaways?" Tom was unsure how he'd specifically go about it, but he'd been up against plenty of bigshot city attorneys and he'd gotten judges and juries alike to listen. The police didn't care about objections or hearsay. They cared about facts. If there were enough facts to convince even a single police officer, then Iilo had a chance. And Tom wanted Iilo to have that chance. "And I do believe you. I just need you to help me make your case stronger. That's what I'm here for, right?"
Iilo offered a tiny smile. "Right. Thank you. The dates are in my journal and I think I have some people who'll help."
Tom felt better when Iilo smiled.
"The next issue is," Tom began, because even if he wanted this to have a happy ending, he knew the probability was low, "and I need you to understand this: missing persons cases aren't full-blown manhunts, not for everyone. If someone isn't found in the first forty-eight hours, it gets rough. I need you to understand you may never see them again. But the cops can help. And they took an oath to do it. I'll be there to remind them." Not to mention, kidnapping was also a federal crime, and the FBI could get involved, but Tom needed more than Iilo's hunch for that. He'd table that idea for now.
Iilo pursed his lips.
"Iilo?"
"I heard you." Iilo pushed out another exasperated sigh before composing himself. "I just don't like it. But for what it's worth, I'm glad I took the risk and went to you."
Tom opened his mouth to speak, grateful for the same thing, but Inaraa opened the door. Her braids swung along the side of her face with her powerful movement. The pulsing gems in her braids matched the rhythm of the gems in the walls. Everything beat to a single rhythm here.
Inaraa stood by the door, red gaze flicking from Iilo to Tom.
"He was just leaving." Iilo stood up, his face no longer open, but closed and distant.
Inaraa sneered, looking between the two. She had something to say; it was painted all over her body language. She was all angles and sharp lines, ready to set loose and pierce into Tom's skin. Tom shuddered. He didn't want to be afraid of her. She might not have liked him, but from what Iilo had said, the I'na didn't want another war. Killing Tom would only start a war. But he still kept staring at her elongated nails.
"I'll see you soon?" Tom asked.
Inaraa said something in her native language that Iilo responded to with a long groan.
Iilo grabbed Tom's hand and put a slip of paper into it. His number and Spire identification for next time, or at least Tom supposed.
"She's one of the ones who can help! Don't worry about her," Iilo said. "She's only doing what she thinks is protecting us."
"And you," Inaraa said.
"Older sister?" Tom asked. He didn't understand how she'd help when she looked like she'd rather see Tom fall off a bridge.
Iilo rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately."
Inaraa's face flushed pink, and she turned her head to the side. She hissed out something in their language again and opened the spire's door for Tom to leave. "Go."
As an older brother, Tom understood how Inaraa felt. Failing his sister, Emily was one of the biggest regrets of his life. He turned to smile at Iilo before leaving. Dwelling on his sister would only distress him, and the last thing he wanted to do in front of Inaraa was expose that weakness.
The sun had long since gone down, the air cool enough to make Tom's eyes water. It was darker here, the moon's light lost in the trees. Tom used his phone's light to make sure he didn't trip on any of the wires. The spires still pulsed their ever-changing colors, but their light didn't reach the ground. It was all sucked up into the spires and jagged buildings.
He turned toward where he thought his car was and came face to face with a pair of glowing orange eyes.
"Shit!" He fell back, knocking his phone a couple feet away. He scurried to grab it, biting his tongue to ground himself. He'd done it all through the military—a bite to the tongue and he was focused.
The I'na darted away, laughing gleefully as another called from one of the structures. She sounded irritated and banged her hand on the metal wall. It echoed like gunfire in Tom's mind.
Ice poured into Tom's stomach. He closed his eyes, counting back from five. This wasn't war, but that didn't stop Tom's body from believing it was. Sweat clung beneath his blazer, reminiscent of sweat beneath Kevlar.
Standing, he tested his foot, pushing it onto the mud and grass, before outright running to his car. With shaking hands, he unlocked the door and drove away manually, so eager to leave he didn't waste time programming his destination.
Chapter Three
Tom sat in his living room over a glass of beer with Carlos and their friend Sam. The room smelled of spilled beer, Cheetos, and more confusion than Tom wanted. Well, that last part was just him.
Carlos and Sam played video games, both sneaking glances at each other and shoving at the controllers. Sam leaned over the Cheetos; Tom's eyes widened, and he prayed she wouldn't find her face pushed into them.
"Dude! No, no, no." Sam tried to push Carlos's controller away. "My gold."
"I believe you mean, my gold now?"
"You're gonna get it!" Sam moved in front of the TV, blocking Carlos's vision with her wide hips. "How ya like me now?"
"Oh, that's it." Carlos stood up, grabbing Sam and pulling her from the TV.
The room
echoed with delighted shrieks and their banter.
Tom had his laptop on the coffee table (a dangerous game with Sam and Carlos together) and a beer cupped in one hand. He'd been doing research about police working with I'na and if they even had jurisdiction to investigate. Most of what he'd found wasn't entirely optimistic. The cop that Iilo spoke to before hadn't exactly been lying.
Humans only had federal jurisdiction over I'na, which meant Seward police wouldn't be able to do much, if at all, without the consent of the I'na police. Which made Tom consider his FBI thought again. But proof. Iilo needed to give him more to go on, especially if the Elect ruled them all as runaways.
"No! Shit!" Carlos smacked Sam's controller out of her hands. "Ha! Serves you right!"
"You little shit!"
Tom pressed a Cheeto to his lips. He furrowed his brow, caught between normalcy and the events slowly unfolding around him. His friends hollered, their voices filling up the room to the point where Tom could feel the reverberation. His body was here, but his mind was replaying the other car at the I'na compound, how Iilo had looked genuinely miserable and yet his body had vibrated with hope.
Tom needed to find a way to involve the Feds if he wanted this to go anywhere.
"I had a long conversation with Iilo today."
"That sounds I'na," Sam said. She paused the game, her dark face serious. "I've got a group I'm trying to help relocate here from Georgia." While still active military, Sam's job at the Outreach Center had more to do with therapy and rehabilitation than gun-wielding.
"I'm helping him talk to Seward cops or something." Tom ran his hand down his face, tugging on the skin. He was already exhausted and it wasn't even late.
"For what?" Sam asked.
"There's a lot of missing I'na. Iilo really thinks something's wrong, but their government isn't involving itself."
"I think this is a good thing," Sam said. "I mean, with what happened to you."
His shoulders reached his ears. He crumpled into a ball on the sofa, focused on the dizzy feeling in his head, the way it swirled like oil in water. Government conspiracy. Government lies. I'na kidnapping. Tom's life had only been about bills and writing final divorce orders a week before.
Sam looked to Carlos, a silent conversation that Tom didn't need to hear to understand. They tiptoed around him and his PTSD like Tom and Sam tiptoed around Carlos's. Everyone always knew it was there, lurking in the shadows and waiting for its time to reach out and remind them how tight it gripped their throats.
"I just mean," Sam said, "that this is good for you. Working with I'na will help you move past your trauma."
Tom didn't like it when Sam was right. And Sam was usually right; it didn't hurt that she had a doctorate in psychology.
If Carlos was air, Sam was Earth. She'd yanked them out of the literal fires during First Contact and continued to yank them from their minds even now. Her resolve was pure titanium.
"I'd love to learn more about them," Carlos said. "I'll be the first to admit I'm still a little nervous. We were asked to slaughter them, and now it's just… they're here, ya know? And I can't help but feel so damn guilty each time I look at them."
"Me too," Tom said.
Sam laid her head on Carlos's shoulder, and Tom watched the panic slip from Carlos's eyes. He smiled at Tom, and the room could breathe again.
"Come down and volunteer for us." Sam popped a Cheeto into her mouth.
"Have any of them talked about kidnappings?" He wasn't sure why he'd asked. Iilo wasn't from the Georgia compound. As far as Tom knew, Iilo had remained in Nebraska since he'd been assigned to it. It was hard for the I'na to travel. Even with "technical" citizenship, they had to be approved to go their destinations, and America didn't let them travel much because of the countless quarantine issues and rampant illnesses both human and I'na alike contracted from each other. It was why the settlements were so important, kept I'na concentrated enough that humans didn't worry terribly about their illnesses (unless they walked right in like Tom had), but I'na sure as hell needed to worry about human illnesses.
Tom was no scientist, but he knew I'na physicians were working with human physicians to combat disease and illness before anything broke out. Usually this was handled with complete lockdowns on settlements and, of course, the restricted travel of I'na. Not that any of this stopped patient zeros from popping up all over the country. Mexico and Canada had both explicitly closed their borders to I'na because of health. The US was really the only country that let them stay. Then again, when the I'na had landed, it was in the middle of Ohio.
"Uh, not aware of any kidnappings," Sam said, "but you could always come down and ask? They're pretty open about how they've gotten to the Center and stuff. Attorneys are always needed too, so you could always pick up some pro bono. Though it ain't pretty. S'not just family law ya gotta worry about with I'na at Centers. A lot leave their homes cause of fear from each other too."
"Yeah," Tom said, "that may not be a bad idea."
"Come next week?" Sam asked.
"Sure thing." Tom gave a lazy and terribly inaccurate salute.
She rolled her eyes.
"Can I come?" Carlos's eyes were large, flickering back and forth between his friends, an excited puppy.
"Duh! Paralegals are just as important." Sam yanked Carlos into a headlock and gave him a noogie for the ages.
Carlos squealed, fingers flying out to swat at Sam, but both were laughing too hard for either to really care.
Tom took a long pull of his beer, eyes glazing over again. He could get the Feds involved if there were multiple jurisdictions involved. A Georgia missing I'na case paired with a Seward one could possibly trigger Federal involvement. Tom had to at least ask.
"Does Lincoln's Outreach Center have any Seward I'na in it?" Tom asked.
Sam shrugged. "Not that I know of. We usually send them back unless they're sick or in danger. Seward's I'na are pretty chill."
"Good to know." Tom returned to his laptop, scratching his fingers over his rough jaw.
With the whoops and laughter of Carlos and Sam in the background, he saved multi-jurisdictional pages and re-read the federal kidnapping statute at least three times before he was satisfied. Tom wanted the best possible outcome for Iilo—even if the best meant learning all his friends were dead. Sometimes reality didn't care who it hurt. Assholes got high-paying jobs, and genuinely good I'na got lost in the cracks, hidden away in glowing sheets of metal towers, only to wonder what had happened to their friends.
Tom wouldn't let that continue. Not for a second longer.
Chapter Four
Tom had arrived at the settlement a little after dark. He'd finished a deposition that went over far longer than it should have because opposing counsel kept objecting. Finding Iilo's spire amongst the winding streets hadn't been as difficult as he thought it would be.
Small talk was never something Tom had been good at. "Can I see the pictures again? I want to see if there's any patterns between them."
"Sure." Iilo had the box waiting on the table. Such an unassuming thing, a little shoebox with a big mystery.
Tom sat with the pictures. He looked at each I'na carefully, back aching and nose cold. His back beause of the deposition. His nose because the I'na seemed to not know what a heater was.
Iilo dropped a list of when everyone went missing beside Tom. "I hope that's helpful." He watched Tom look over the pictures. "Our IDs signal which clans we come from. We don't have race like humans."
"Are any of the I'na from the same clans?"
"No. Distant cousins maybe." Iilo was leaning over the clear table, his feet tucked under him and his elbows rested on its surface. He peered at Tom with a curiosity that Tom didn't know if it was just about the missing I'na or something more. His eyes were incredibly round, the orange glow casting off the tops of his cheeks.
"What?"
"You're just staring at them. You could ask me?"
"I know their names. I was just trying
to see ID stuff." Tom sat back, his brow flicking up. "I guess I'm—curious."
"I think it's good that you care. I'm glad you do." Iilo picked up one of the photos and smiled. He looked the way most did when pulling memories from years past. "He liked chocolate. That was one of the first things he ate from you all. It made him sick and he shook for hours, but he loved it."
"Too much sugar?" Tom asked.
Iilo snorted out a laugh. "Sugar's pretty bad for us. But that doesn't stop us from liking sweet things. I adore cupcakes."
Tom sat back, picturing Iilo with a cupcake piled high with sprinkles and icing. A look of pure happiness on his features. Earth hadn't given them much to be happy for. They had to worry about which foods they could eat, the amount of sun they got, infection and disease. Then there were the humans who fixated on them and the ones who feared them. Iilo liked humans; there was hope there. The whole world could be reshaped if people human and I'na alike had Iilo's optimism and loyalty.
"I'm nervous about the police. But I like spending time with you. I've had a few human friends."
"You've had some?" Tom asked. With the way I'na kept to themselves, Tom now understanding why, he was surprised Iilo had any human friendships at all.
"Two years ago, I met a girl at the Outreach Center. She liked watercolor painting and asked if she could paint me. It was really pretty." Iilo stood up and exited the room. A door rolled backward, slinking into the uneven wall, and it hissed as it smoothed out against it. He came back with a framed picture.
Iilo's likeness stared off the page, his face in a profile. His shimmering freckles were made with glitter and gel pens.
"This is really great," Tom said. "I like how she did your freckles."
"She moved away for college, and I've not spoken to her in a long time." Iilo took the painting and smiled, his reflection glowing back at him from the glass. "I miss her." He set the frame down and looked back down at the pictures of missing I'na. "I've been trying to come up with evidence. You have your dates." He pointed to the paper he'd placed near Tom. "I'm still working on trying to get my sister to help. None of us are witnesses though. So I don't know if that makes a difference."