“As far as you know,” Zane said, furious.
“But someone is thinking it might just be a matter of time, and if they do come back, you want someone to be able to tell them that you’re A-OK here,” I said. “Good folks. Not worth blowing up or conquering.”
Justine nodded reluctantly. “Yes.”
Well, at least now her motives were making sense.
“What makes you think they’d listen to me?” I asked. “They might consider me every bit a freak as you do.” And I wasn’t particularly eager to hear from them, if it was at all like what I’d just experienced from a simple recording.
She looked unsettled for the first time in this conversation. “We don’t know what they’ll do,” she admitted. “We hope, if or when they decide to make contact, it will be a peaceful encounter, one that could be mutually beneficial.”
“But it’s your job to prepare for the worst,” I said.
“This is, for better or worse, your home,” she said quietly. “I’m hoping you’ll want to do everything you can to save it. And the people you love.”
“That’s low,” Zane said to her in disgust.
He was right. And yet what Justine had said was not untrue. Even if I could try and convict Dr. Jacobs as a jury of one, could I do that to an entire planet?
I listened to the dozens of people around us, their voices clamoring. Laughing, talking, placing orders, and arguing with spouses or coworkers on the phone. They were alive. With their own dreams and destinies.
There were good things here: peanut butter, french fries, music, art, puppies and kittens, orchids, high-quality denim. And good humans, too. Not just Zane and my father, but thousands of others I’d witnessed acting out of kindness, in person or on video clips.
Full-blooded humans could be the most shortsighted, self-serving, hateful beings (see the comments section of any blog post ever), but they also rushed into burning buildings to save strangers, raised orphaned animals (and little alien/human hybrid girls) by hand, and held the door open for the person behind them.
The dichotomy was difficult to wrap my brain around, but it was one of the things I loved most about that half of my heritage. That people capable of extreme ugliness could also do such amazing things.
Justine was right; I couldn’t, wouldn’t, leave them to their fate if I could have a hand in saving them. It was my home and these were my people, as much as whoever might show up in a flying saucer at some future point.
Besides, oddly enough, this arrangement Justine was suggesting might also provide the leverage I’d been missing before.
I felt a flicker of excitement, maybe even hope, for the first time in a long while. They wanted to use me, but I could use them right back. After all, they were counting on me to provide a good report, when and if it was needed, and I would be willing to do that only under certain circumstances. Namely, find a way to end the trials and then leave me and mine the hell alone until the day those ships show up again.
“Why me?” I asked.
Zane turned in his seat to stare at me in disbelief. “You’re not seriously considering this?”
Come on, Zane, don’t make me get into this now.
I spoke as calmly as I could. “We’re talking about saving the people I care about.” Truth, but also what Justine would want to hear.
MY GOALS HAVEN’T CHANGED, ZANE. I’M JUST GOING ABOUT IT A DIFFERENT WAY. I thought the words at him as hard as I could. I’LL EXPLAIN LATER.
His head jerked up, as if he’d heard a distant shout.
I gave a tiny warning shake of my head. DON’T REACT.
“Ford was the first candidate we considered, but she was deemed…inappropriate,” Justine said loudly, another of her less-than-subtle efforts to steer the conversation back on track.
“Translation: she hates humans and you’re afraid she’ll encourage them to blow this place up,” Zane said. “And Carter won’t do anything without her.”
“My point is that if you think those ships are looking for us, don’t you think they’ll search out Ford and Carter too?” I asked. “It’s kind of hard to spin the story if you’re not controlling all the sources.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we have to,” Justine said vaguely, which was totally a pat on the head, filler for an answer she didn’t yet have or perhaps didn’t want to share.
I raised my eyebrows. “But in the meantime, the trials continue. That girl, the target, dies. And Laughlin keeps making hybrids.”
With a sigh, Justine squared her shoulders, likely preparing to give a speech about collateral damage and broken eggs being a requirement for omelets or whatever.
But Zane spoke first, frowning. “What girl? What are you talking about?”
Startled, I glanced over at him. “The girl. You know. The one in the packet they gave us.”
He sat up straighter. “No, it was a guy. Adam said it was a dude.”
A chill slid its way down my spine. “Are you sure?”
He nodded slowly.