by Li Hill
"It does, unfortuantely. But the amount of missing I'na is concerning. Could you speak to anyone?"
"I could try." Iilo chewed on his bottom lip, looking entirely like he'd gotten himself into something bigger than he could handle. And maybe that was the truth, but that was for Iilo to decide.
"I've been doing some research about jurisdiction and federal involvement. Seward is local police. Now, I don't think that should deter you from trying to report it, especially if your own police aren't actively investigating. The Seward police can maybe pressure yours to at least really look into the situation. Or we could go to the Feds. If that happens, the I'na police have no choice but to open an investigation. So it's your call. We can try both. But the Feds need more than a gut-feeling. They need something tangible."
"That's a lot of procedure I don't really understand." Iilo's nose was crinkled and his ears tinted purple.
"Well, you're in luck, for you have an awesome attorney who absolutely loves civil procedure and the rules of evidence. Also Constitutional law. And a few—wow, I'm done."
Iilo laughed. He reached out across the table and grabbed Tom's hand for a moment, a familiar gentle squeeze, and then his hand was gone. He acted as if he'd known Tom all his life. Iilo didn't involve himself in any of that. He moved because his body told him to. He didn't fret; he didn't contemplate. He lived right in the moment and touch was part of his vocabulary.
"I think it'd be best if we went to the FBI," Iilo said.
"Me too." After thinking about how he'd go about as an informant with the FBI, Tom said, "Why do I'na glow? Your freckles or whatever look like they shimmer and you change colors?"
Iilo came around the table and sat next to Tom, his knees to his chest, spine pressed into the back of the chair. "Inaan was mostly dark when we evolved, or that's what they taught in school. So we kind of absorb energy and that's how it works? And we change color because our bodies' temperatures change. It's just our blood that changes color. Like how yours is blue and red. Ours is blue and red too. But our skin is just usually darker."
It struck Tom as almost laughable how excited he was to learn I'na had blue and red blood. It didn't matter how far away they'd come, it didn't matter how different their skin was—take that away and there was blood the same color as a human's.
"When this is over, you won't go back on your word, right?" He knew it was abrupt, but he just needed to hear it. More because he feared it actually happening than Iilo changing his mind. "I know it's not a good idea, but it's the right thing to do. Sometimes those two don't really go together. But it's important to me."
"I promise. It's very admirable. Though stupid."
Tom snorted. If Iilo thought of him as stupid, then so be it. He wouldn't be the first and he wouldn't be the last.
"I think for when we go see the Feds, it's important that you maintain candor, kindness, and to make sure the agent doesn't control the interview. It's okay to bring up things they gloss over. Like, tell them you want to go back and focus on something else. Or tell them you're not finished explaining. We do a lot of this in depositions, and I think this will be the same kind of dance." Being there with Iilo would be important. Not only was he a witness in case anything happened, but he did lend to Iilo's credibility. And not only that, but Tom wasn't afraid to get Iilo back on track when his nerves got the best of him. Tom had seen it time and time in depositions—confident people reduced to tense eyes and fidgeting fingers. Iilo had been smart to seek out an attorney first and not the police. The police protected, sure, but the attorney defended.
"Okay. That all sounds—probably easier said than done. I'm nice, but when someone angers me, I'm not all that nice anymore."
"Spunky, huh?"
"Just fed up. I've got some names of human clients. Figure they'd be some good leads to give the police? Er, FBI?"
"Absolutely. You can either prepare a written statement, or I could even for you. Remember, this is only just a conversation. And as I said before, if we involve the Feds, there's gotta be something they can hold onto. So we should follow up with your human leads. I'm going to the I'na Outreach Center with Carlos. Why not come with me and see if anyone might know something?"
Iilo's face blanched. He was silent for a long time, the room around them pulsing its light. "It never—oh—it never occurred to me that it could be happening to more I'na."
Tom didn't want to feel proud about having the idea, for one thing, it wasn't originally his, and for another, he didn't like the look of Iilo's face when it turned nearly bone white. It pulled on his heart, like all clients when they finally broke down and cried in his office. Tom was human. When people cried in front of him, he felt it too.
Iilo huffed. He stood up to pace the circular room. When he walked, the floor hummed purple. "If a politician is dirty, someone steps in and handles it. What was that whole thing about America? Checks and balances? Who balances us? Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful our police are there, but if they're all dirty, then who helps us? If this is happening everywhere, if it's not just my people—" He dropped into the seat again and covered his face with his hands. "I can't just keep sitting here."
"We have to be credible. That's what we're working on," Tom said. "FBI can't ignore it if they think it's credible. They'll contact your police and generally work together on it. Or just take over, who knows. We just have to take it step by step. Remember—I'm here for all that. You just worry about presenting everything you've got. We'll talk to the I'na at the compound. I believe you, remember?"
Iilo looked out from under his hands, eyes round.
"If you believe something's happening then it's only a matter of time before we figure out what. It's not fair, but that's sometimes how it is. But I believe you, and if we work through this properly, we'll get them to listen."
Tom hated grandstanding. He hated fancy speeches, and he sure as hell hated any presidential address to the nation. But he had to say something before Iilo grew too impatient. There was too much fire inside Iilo, too much regret. It clogged him all up and Tom could see it simmering beneath the skin. He did believe Iilo, without a doubt. Tom had gotten good at knowing who was a liar and who was being honest—years of watching people lie under oath. From the way Iilo's shoulders were relaxing, all he really needed was to hear someone believed him.
Iilo scrubbed his hand over his face. His fingers sparkled when he pushed at his skin. "Right. Sorry. Stay candid and polite."
"You don't have to be polite with me."
"You wanna take a break and go for a walk with me?"
"Sure."
Outside, it was like the day he'd come before. Children played. Some looked at Tom with disdain, making his chest tight and his feet tingle. Others just watched with blank expressions.
Tom was sweaty from the heat when they found Inaraa with another I'na who had a perfectly shaved head that showed how the bone inlay with his scalp. Sharp, jagged bits kissed skin, creating an uneven seam as if an inexperienced seamstress had put him together.
"Oh," Inaraa said. "I didn't realize he was here again." She sniffed, Tom's human scent apparently not to her liking.
Tom bit the inside of his mouth. Yet Tom couldn't blame her for her disdain. It was acceptable and perhaps natural that she'd feel bothered by his presence. Iilo was going against the Elect and Tom was the proof. She was only protecting her sibling.
The bald one sneered at Tom and made sure to stomp off in his clunky boots Tom was pretty sure had only been in style way back in the 1990s. His ripped-up pants showed off he was more gray than blue.
"He's a charmer," Tom said.
"He doesn't trust you." Inaraa stood up, gently tapping a finger on one of the gems in her hair. She was built like the buildings around them. Sharp features, glowing eyes, and a pulse under her throat that read more angry than welcoming.
"Well, he hasn't met me."
Inaraa raised her brows. She stepped closer, the sun reflecting off her onyx breastplate. Wires fed up and
down her torso into the metal that encapsulated her legs. She looked more cyborg than I'na.
Before she got any closer, Iilo whispered, "Please help us. Just ask the Elect?"
Inaraa scowled. She moved away, crossing her arms. "Iilo, I don't have enough support to put forth a vote and if I push it right now, Scou'luu'nae will see me off the Elect. And now you've decided to involve a human."
Iilo grabbed her arm when she made to walk away. He yanked her back, pointing at Tom. "He wasn't afraid. He knows, and he wasn't afraid."
Tom's throat turned to sandpaper. He knew he didn't belong, and everything he heard made him only that much more uncomfortable.
"Don't," she hissed, pushing Iilo away from her. Her braids twirled, snakes ready to strike out at anyone who opposed her. "Not out here, Iilo."
"Maybe I should go?" Tom pointed over at his car. He didn't want to admit that the anger in her eyes reminded him of when he'd been cowering in a foxhole with Carlos while bombs eradicated an entire neighborhood.
"No—it's fine. She's just worried that you'll reveal our secret." Iilo got closer to Inaraa, a snarl on his face.
It struck Tom, sudden like a punch. Iilo's face didn't frighten him.
Inaraa spat out what Tom was certain was an insult in their language.
"He can help us, Inaraa. He doesn't care about our blood. He believes us."
Siblings bickered. Tom's heart gave a yank, reminding him of the days when he and Emily had fought in the morning and crowded together on the couch to watch movies at night. But even this made him genuinely worried for Iilo's safety, as Inaraa was just bigger than him, a powerhouse poised to fight.
"You best keep your plans to you and me only, un'ska. Don't let the Elect catch you two."
Tom looked around, curious if anyone watched. The only people out were children, and they were far more invested in shirking and playing ball than they were in Inaraa and Iilo's argument.
Inaraa stalked off, piling her braids into a bun high on her head. She shot one more look at Iilo before turning behind a spire.
"She's great. What's an un'ska?" Tom asked, trying to defuse the situation. Humor always helped him.
"'Baby brother.' Follow me." Iilo started walking away from the compound and toward rolling green hills and fields of grazing cows.
Tom followed behind, his hands jammed in his pockets. He inhaled the fresh air, looking back at the buildings, all sharp teeth and bones of what they once were. Then he'd look out at the Nebraskan horizon. Greens, yellows, and blues. The strangest juxtaposition he'd ever witnessed.
Iilo walked up to a fence and coaxed a cow toward him. "Oh—oh, you're such a good girl, huh?"
Tom watched Iilo stroke his fingers down the cow's pink nose. His sharpened ears moved when the cow huffed, a little jerk, but one noticeable enough that Tom caught himself smiling. He didn't know the I'na could flick their ears. They'd always reminded Tom of an elf's ears, or more of an elf who'd been bit by a shark. And they could flick them.
"We just want to live on this planet with you. If humans know our blood could kill them, we just don't see it going well." He didn't stop stroking his fingers down the cow's nose. She snorted, her mouth chewing grass and leaves.
Cold sweat made Tom shiver. He felt something tingle in the back of his neck, plucking at the base of his skull. He couldn't fault the I'na for trying to protect this secret. He'd seen the non-disclosures when he'd left the army. From the looks of it, the governemnt shared the I'na's concern, or at least that's what Tom hoped. Tom didn't want anymore war. He'd seen enough of it. Both sides had suffered enough.
Iilo just stared at Tom with tired eyes. They were rusted, their bioluminescence murky. He sighed, giving the cow one firm pat on the nose before guiding her away. His freckles looked like spatters of little paint drops drying in the sun. They were varying colors of orange, purple, and blue. He found himself fixated. He wondered if that's why Iilo's friend wanted to paint him. He looked like a painting himself.
"When I left the peace talks, we were under the impression your government would seal the records about our blood. But that doesn't stop accidents from happening. We had one here once. A guy died. People talk. If the wrong person finds out—I just want my people safe."
Tom sat down on the cool grass, a far cry from the humid heat in the air. "I want to think no one would be so cruel as to eradicate an entire race. But hey, I saw you all as invaders when you first came. I was terrified for my family. If I could see you as nothing more than a villain, it can't be hard for someone else to see you as nothing more than a weapon."
"It was war," Iilo whispered, like a broken record.
"Stop saying that like it's okay. None of this is okay. I've thought about First Contact every day since it happened. I've been scared of you. Your sister. Your home. I just—I didn't—" Tom choked on his breath, his mind leaving him. It forced him to witness crying children. The Thunderbirds that soared over his camp. The sounds of explosions. All over a fucking miscommunication. A single rifle shot.
It'd been humans who started this war.
"Hey—you're okay. You're sitting in a field. Listen to the cows. Listen to me." Iilo rested his hand on Tom's shoulder. "Anxiety is common between our species. We calm each other in a similar way you do."
"Grounding?" Tom asked.
"Ishahue."
"Is-my-who-what?"
Iilo snorted, rolling his eyes. He gave Tom a pat on the shoulder and then sat back. "Our language. I guess the direct translation would be 'to bring to center.'"
Tom bit his lip. He could feel the tips of his ears reddening. Iilo had seen what only Carlos could see before. That left Tom alarmed, unsure how to feel about it.
"You'll forgive yourself soon enough," Iilo said. "You'll move on."
"And if I don't want to?" Tom would have died if he hadn't killed the I'na that night. But the brain was never logical when the heart wanted it to be. Survivor's guilt. Sam had suggested it once and that Tom seek out therapy. He still hadn't gone.
"I'll introduce you to his family. Just like I promised." Iilo crossed his arms over his knees. He looked out at the cows, brow furrowed as the sun faced them. "I failed to mention I knew him."
"What?" Tom couldn't feel the earth beneath him any longer. His body went still, heart paused in anticipation.
"I knew him. The man you killed."
"And you're just now telling me?"
Iilo shrugged. He picked at the grass, a neutral look on his face. Tom should've been angry, but more than anything he was just curious why Iilo had kept it hidden. Did Iilo think Tom would've forced them to go see the I'na's family sooner? Or was it because Iilo was trying to protect him? His skin felt tight. He laughed.
Iilo looked over with wide-eyed concern.
"You're worried about me," Tom said. "I don't even know you."
"Well, of course I do. You've been good to me." Iilo shifted, his joints stilted. "And I'd like it, if maybe we did know each other."
"Yeah. Me too." Tom cared as well. He just didn't have the heart to let himself feel as vulnerable as he was making Iilo. Misery loved company. Tom had been existing, and then he'd met Iilo. He doesn't know what to make of it all, but he's glad enough that this happened. Sam, of course, was right.
This had been good for him.
"It's not sensible to walk into the home of the man you murdered and ask the survivors to do whatever they want to you. We're not noble people, Tom. They could kill you."
"How old are you?" Tom asked abruptly.
"I'm—how does that have anything to do with this?" Iilo's face flushed pink.
"Because sometimes you're impossibly child-like, and then you get like this. I mean, you want me to know you and your people, right?"
Iilo frowned, but color returned to his face. The speckles over his face shimmered, a swirl of glitter in the wind.
"Twenty-six. And more specifically," Iilo said, "I think the word you're looking for is 'multi-faceted.' I'm a complex creatur
e."
And a sarcastic one too.
"Wow, got me there. We of lowly single-faceted personalities just don't comprehend."
"Okay, stop it." The way Iilo looked at him, his brows crinkled in the center, his lip jutting out. He had the face of an ageless deity. Tom could see so much swirling around in those features, from the contoured cheeks to his button nose. Then a smile broke across his face.
Tom didn't want to bother Iilo by being curious about I'na. "Do you want to know anything about me?"
"I know about you already," Iilo said.
"Do you know my favorite holiday?"
"I don't think—why's that necessary?"
"It did occur to you that we could actually be friends?" Tom asked.
"Oh." Iilo blinked, then realization filtered into his features. "Oh! I didn't think that you'd want to be."
Tom picked a bug off his arm to give himself time to answer that. Iilo picked up the whole conversation and dumped it in Tom's lap to navigate. Tom was crafty when it came to words in the courtroom when a client was on the stand, but take him out of it? He was a fish without water. "I didn't think I'd want to be either, but I do."
"Why?" Iilo sounded guarded. It made something inside of Tom sink, a tiny betrayal that didn't occur because Iilo had nothing to betray. He'd been honest from the start.
"I guess I just like being friends with people I get along with. But if I misread this—"
"No!" Iilo scooted closer, his legs tucked beneath him. He hovered like a fairy, just out of arm's reach in case he'd get swatted. "I don't have many friends."
Tom wouldn't pry. The sadness that ghosted across Iilo's face was tell enough. Iilo's friends were missing, snatched up into the mystery that kept unraveling like a runaway yarn ball. Neither of them could catch it. But Tom was earnest with what he said. He did want to be Iilo's friend. Maybe it was to deal with his own trauma. Maybe it was something else entirely, but Tom enjoyed spending time with Iilo. He wanted to know what it was like when Iilo wasn't sad too. When Iilo could just be.