Manipulate (Book 1, Alien Cadets)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Five hours later, after the tedious approach to the planet, and somewhat anticlimactic disembarking at LAX, Sam stood on the stage of the Crystal Cathedral in Los Angeles. The Spo liked the grand architecture of the building, and they didn’t know, or maybe didn’t care, that it had all the wrong overtones as their regional headquarters.

Sweat trickled down Sam’s back as the front rows of the cathedral filled with members of the press. The ceiling held 10,000 panels of glass, and if there was a mote of sunlight the building didn’t catch, it sure wasn’t for lack of trying. The heat was only one problem though.

On each wall the Spo had placed huge portraits, at least eight feet tall, of the cadets. Sam’s face stared back at him from the second spot on the right, and the tattoo on his cheek looked horrible at that size. The posters had a distinctly “Hitler youth” feel to them and Sam cringed as he saw a photographer snapping shots of the horrible posters while he waited for the press conference to begin. One of Sam’s tasks was to try and make the Spo more acceptable to humans, to begin to close the breach made by seven years of occupation, and they sure weren’t making it easy.

“The posters?” Sam asked Greg. “Where did those come from?”

Greg’s face was still as ever. “They came from the printer located at 266 La Valente – ”

“I mean, why? We didn’t say anything about huge, ugly – ”

“It is time to start,” Greg interrupted. “You may continue later.”

Cameramen were set up in the aisles and journalists filled the front rows. Greg crouched in front of the microphone, all rubber skin and folded limbs. The Spo had four legs and two arms which gave them that regrettable similarity to a praying mantis. His face was vaguely humanoid, except for the eyestalks. They were twitchy and expressive and might have been cute on a cartoon alien.

“I can smell your excitement,” Greg said, in his tolerable English, “so I will not prison you in suspense. You will welcome the first cadets to return to Earth.”

Sam sighed. Greg always spoke in commands. The aliens had actually asked Sam’s advice on this press conference - The Return of the Cadets, etc etc. - but clearly his advice had not sunk in.

“This is Sam, one of the top cadets from Los Angeles. He will speak next.”

The reporters immediately began shouting questions and Sam’s stomach clenched tighter. And his back itched.

“Have you been allowed to contact your family?”

“What do your tattoos mean?”

 “Did the Spo brainwash you?”

Greg flexed his legs, shifting his weight off his front feet. Sam flicked two fingers at him, meaning, give me a second. The Spo allowed human newscasters a lot of freedom, since nothing they could do would give humanity enough of an edge to overthrow the Spo government. But, and this was a big but, Greg really wanted these press conferences for the cadets to go well and he was just off kilter enough to attack someone who got belligerent, not realizing what horrible press that would be.

“Hang on. Hold your horses!” Sam said to the reporters, forcing a laugh. “I gotta say my stuff first.”

“I am so glad to be back!” he said, waving into the cameras. “We all are. It’s been a fascinating six years, but there’s no place like home, right? The other cadet groups will return in the next few weeks. We said goodbye to them last month, and they can’t wait to be home.”

Sam turned back to the other forty cadets on stage. They stood in ranks, looking stiff and awkward. Greg should have released footage of the cadets stepping off the spaceship at LAX or settling into their dorm, this formal press conference was a bad move, but it was too late for that.