Manipulate (Book 1, Alien Cadets)

Chapter 7

The next morning, Sam watched Nat move stiffly through the cafeteria to get breakfast. Nat’s roommate carried her tray for her, as one of Nat’s hands was still bandaged. The doctor at the hospital, acutely uncomfortable with Greg and Downy, had talked to Sam instead. The burns were minor, the doctor confirmed, except for one on her leg, and one on her left hand. Fortunately, the attackers didn’t know enough or possibly care enough to make a serious Molotov cocktail. Unfortunately Nat was left-handed.

Sam held the doors for Nat as they went back to the dorm. Greg wanted them both in his office. He’d taken over the Resident Director’s apartment on the bottom floor of the dorm. This morning Greg gestured them into his living room, and let them sit on the couch. Sam hadn’t been in here since they moved in. Greg had decorated the walls with Spo melt glass, Rembrandt reprints, and empty picture frames. He’d used duct tape on the pictures.

“I’ve got an idea for a press event,” Sam said, ignoring the empty picture frames. That conversation could take hours. “These attacks – the Molotov cocktail, the tower graffiti – they may not be related. Or they might be. Either way, these people view us as political targets. They think hurting us will hurt the Spo. I want to show them how human we are.”

“How?” Greg asked.

“I want us to go to a mall, somewhere popular, famous – maybe Hollywood Square. We do some press stuff, and then we just hang out. Let the reporters get personal interviews, let them film us eating burgers and buying T-shirts.”

Greg nodded, thoughtful. “I’ll arrange something. It’s such a human idea – shopping to avoid violence.”

Sam looked at Nat’s bandaged hand. “It couldn’t hurt, right?”

“No. It is a good idea.”

Greg paused for a moment. “However, Nat, I have something else to tell you. I learned that your family is back in Los Angeles. I thought you might want to see them.”

Nat looked blank. “My family? You told me they live in Tokyo now. Plus, no family visits yet.”

“They’re here to get a lung transplant for your sister. The operation is tomorrow, so I’ve arranged for you to visit them tonight.”

Sam had only twice seen Nat cry, and he didn’t see it now. Her face tightened up, but she forced it to relax.

“Tonight? I guess… Yes. Okay. Are you going to take me?”

“I doubt they want to see me,” Greg said, with a touch of humor. “Sam will go with you, and Leo and Mike, for security.”

“I don’t want Sam to come – ”

“No arguments,” Greg said. “Take it or leave it.”

Nat shrugged with stiff shoulders. “Alright then.”

Sam and Leo leaned against a wall in the waiting room, next to a coke machine, watching Nat pace. Sam didn’t blame Nat for not wanting him here. The cadets had all talked so much about seeing their families again, the first few years on Spo. Then, slowly, talk of home stopped. After a certain point, they all felt so removed from their past, nobody wanted to imagine seeing their parents.

Now the situation was thrust on Nat, ready or not, along with the fact that her sister was getting a dangerous operation.

Nat’s breath came unevenly and she kept shaking her hands, like her fingers were falling asleep. When she tried to sign the visitor book at the front desk her bandaged hand shook so badly her name was illegible.

“It smells like Spo in here,” Nat said, continuing to pace. “Did you notice that?”

“All the cleaning fluids,” Sam said.