“We will tantalize them with guilt,” I say, “we will show them their guilt in small bright pieces, one by one as children are given coins to play with; and when they have run their hands over those coins, contaminated themselves with the stain of culpability, we will overtake and dispose of them. They can deal with us with brutality and force if they conceive of us as abstractions, but once we become beings, once we impress them as feeling creatures such as themselves, their devices will no longer work. We have allowed them to think of us as domestic creatures, you see, to be bandied about, tortured and slaughtered at will. Once we prove to them that we suffer, they will be unable to oppose us. Particularly limited individuals such as these guards who surely must rank low in their own hierarchy, lower even than the therapists.”
“It is mad,” she says. “Utterly mad. I believe your plan is doomed.” But her features flare, her eyes glow as she looks at me and in that moment I recognize her; she is one of the numerous females whom I once possessed and now she again desires me. “You are a fool,” she says and her skin seems to slide open; I can sense the slow rolling ease with which I would penetrate her. I feel her clasp upon my wrist, gentle as night.
“No,” I say, taking my arm from her, “no, that cannot be; we must concentrate on the plan now, must sublimate all our energies into it. Later there will be time for that.”
“Nala,” she says and stands. “It is all with Nala. Do not listen to her. She is untrustworthy. In the old days she conspired against us with those of the higher levels. She is dangerous. You should not believe her.”
“It has nothing to do with Nala,” I say and ease her from the room. The interview is finished; she will do as she is bidden, she accepts the plan. Now I feel the urgency only to be free of her, so unlike the time only a few weeks ago when I would have sacrificed everything for a quick vagrant fuck in these rooms of mine. “Nala is only a participant.”
“There are other things,” the female says hoarsely. “Other things, before shiptime. I tell you, before the shiptime she had a dreadful occupation. I am beginning to retrieve my memory; now I have flickers and flashes, I believe that I remember—”
“No,” I say and force her from the room. I feel her to the bone as I thrust her through the passage. “No, I do not want to hear it. You will meet me at the appointed time and we will conduct the escape. That is all.”
“Listen,” she says, “listen,” but the door is closed upon her and I hear nothing. I stand alone in the center of the room, shaking the feel of her from my palms like water, and then I return to these notes, always my comfort, never more so than now where they will turn out to be not only a justification but the full and single documentation of the escape and the miraculous way in which we were able to evade the clutches of the aliens and recover our destiny.