Jonathon was one of two dozen men and women who guarded Veech prisoners captured during the war.
I had to get permission for this meeting; I didn't want to get in trouble. My old supervisor had to call his supervisor and, well, here I am, so I guess they thought it was okay. It doesn't matter now, does it? All those guys are gone.
How did you become a guard?
In a roundabout way. I was stationed in Texas during the war. I fought there for two years -small battles, big battles, scouting raids – and did it all without a scratch. Then one day, I'm out with a team, scouting a small town, and the next thing I know, I wake up with a concussion and two broken legs. As you can see, it left me with this baby. (Slaps his leg.) It's not too big of a deal unless I walk too long on it.
I got stuck in a hospital up in Montana, recovering but mostly feeling sorry for myself. That place was cold. I mean really cold. I wanted to get back in the fight, you know? Most of my family was dead, and the only brothers I still had were down there. I knew it wasn't going to happen though, which led me to being a prick. The doc told me I might not even walk on my right leg again. Thankfully he was wrong about that one.
One day I got out of bed, loaded myself into my wheelchair, and went to find some booze. I didn't care at that point. I was depressed and angry and was ready to have at it with anyone I saw. I think I wanted someone to stop me, so that I could share my anger. I made it to the end of the hall and I couldn't get the door open. That broke me, and I just lost it. I started yelling, screaming, cursing, and threatening anyone around me. Next thing I know, an officer walks up, opens the door, and says, "after you." I just looked at the guy, you know? His calm demeanor took me off my game for a minute. I think I mumbled, "thank you," but I'm not sure.
I head out the door, and the guy follows me. He starts asking me questions about my injury and my recuperation. I didn't want to answer him or talk about it. I'm surprised I didn't get busted right there because I gave him some attitude, but the guy was chill. He told me he was here recruiting for a job, but I needed to be able to walk—not fight, just walk. He put his card in my shirt and disappeared.
Well, after I cooled down, I realized it was a chance, maybe the only chance, I had of getting back in the war, so I hit my physical therapy hard, and three months later, I could walk... kind of. (Gives a shrug.) I thought it was good enough, so I give the guy a call, and he arranges everything, just like that. I thought it was strange, but I wasn't going to ask too many questions.
Two weeks later, I'm flown out to a remote base—sorry I can't say where. (Gives an apologetic smile.) I thought, perhaps foolishly, that I already had the job, but I was told I still had to interview. I was shown into a room, a small one, you know, one of those interrogation rooms you see on T.V. and then told to wait.
A few minutes later, a man entered the room. The guy was dressed in a black suit and tie, regulation hair cut, you know the type, I'm sure. I had him pegged for C.I.A. or some other letter agency, but never did find out. Anyway, he sat down and asked me one question. "What would you do If you came upon a Veech who wanted to surrender?" That was it. I just looked at the guy; I mean, what was I supposed to say?
I wondered if this was some kinda test? Was I supposed to answer that I would slap some cuffs on him and turn him in? I got angry. They brought me out here just to turn me away because I wasn't gonna be nice to a genocidal alien? Screw them!
I stood up and growled at the man that if I ever came upon a Veech I would slit it open from neck to gonads and then watch it bleed. I threw the chair across the room, told the man to screw himself, and walked to the door.
He laughs, pulls out a rubber band, and puts his hair into a ponytail.
Well, the door didn't have a handle on it, so I turned around, ready to handle this daisy pusher. He saw me turn, held up his hand, and offered me the job. I just stared at the guy, sure I was being punked or something. The man asked me to sit and he would explain. I sat.
He told me they wanted men of violence, men who wouldn't be seduced, men like me, I guess. I don't know this for sure, but I believe they thought the Veech might have had some kinda power, well, not power, but a way to influence us... humans, I mean. I know that sounds stupid, and I'm not describing it right. You should ask someone about that. Whatever, anyway, I got the job from being an asshole.
He told me what the job was and I wondered if I would get a chance to kill the aliens. The guy must have read my thoughts or something cause he gave a small smile and said, "We'll convince you that it's in Earth's best interest to let them live." I just shrugged. I
