20. Yaaf
YAAF
"Can I talk to you for a moment?" Yaaf asked Bowen.
The Guardian set the takeout bags on the counter. "What is it?"
"We want to speak with Kian," Yaaf said.
The Guardian frowned. "About what?"
"About how much longer we will be stuck here. We think the probation period has been long enough. Turner said two to three weeks. It has been four, and no one is telling us anything."
"That's problematic." Bowen rubbed the back of his neck. "I hear you, and you are right, but Kian has good reasons not to come here in person to talk to you."
"We're aware of his reasons." Yaaf pulled out a stool and sat down. "It can be done via a video call, or even a regular phone call. He can wear the filtering earpieces."
Bowen leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. "If you want this to work, you need to prepare and present your case in a compelling way so he might actually listen and not shoot it down right away."
That sounded good in theory, but the collective didn't know what they could say to convince Kian.
Words didn't mean much if they were not backed up by deeds, and their deeds should have been enough to earn them Kian's trust already.
What could they say that would top what they had done on the island?
Yaaf shook his head. "What do you suggest we include in that presentation?"
Bowen didn't answer right away, probably going through the same mental exercise the collective had just done. "Make a list of reasons why you want to move to the village. Kian might be under the impression that the current arrangement works for you."
Yaaf frowned. "How could he think that? Everyone we care about is in the village, and their visits are organized and supervised. We are grateful for that, but we'd prefer to live where our loved ones live and see them whenever we want."
Bowen waved his hand as if that were precisely what he had meant.
"Kian doesn't spend his days thinking about you.
That's why you need to present your case and say those things to him.
But that's just one part of it. This is what you want and why.
The other part is to show how it benefits the clan to have you in the village. What's in it for him?"
The idea had merit, but other than offering their services as protectors of the community, the collective did not see how they could benefit the village.
"We need help with that," Yaaf reluctantly admitted. "You know him. You know what's important to him, so you could suggest what we can put on that list of benefits."
"Get Petrov and Dimitri to help you. If you're going to the village, they'll be going with you, so they need to come up with ways to benefit the clan as well."
Whatever the scientists could do, they didn't need to be in the village to do it, so that wasn't a convincing argument, especially since Petrov and Anita were human, and so was Mattie.
Sullha had told Yaaf that quite a few humans lived in the village, but she didn't know the circumstances that had brought them there.
"We can talk it over at breakfast," Ravsoh said.
Petrov walked over with his writing pad and pulled out a stool. "Wait for Mattie and Anita to get here. They always have good ideas."
Once the ladies arrived and they were all seated around the counter, Bowen reached for the carafe and poured himself coffee. "Let's start with the reasons." He gestured at Petrov. "Write this down."
"Write what?" Petrov asked. "No one has said anything yet."
"Let's start with you. Why would you want to move into the village?"
"I heard there was a bar. That's reason enough for me."
"Konstantin," Anita said.
"Don't Konstantin me. My physical wound is healed, but my soul is dry without vodka. I need it. Besides, I want to be around people who know how to enjoy themselves in a bar. I heard there's nightly entertainment."
Yaaf looked at Bowen. "Is there?"
"Impromptu, but yes. It's a nice place." The Guardian waved his hand at Petrov. "Write it down."
"I want to walk to Sullha's house whenever we want to see each other," Yaaf said.
Petrov wrote that down as well.
"That's it?"
"I also want to play with Tomek. He said I need to come to the village because it's much nicer there than here."
Petrov nodded and wrote it on the pad.
"Our mothers are there," Camdor said. "We see them once or twice a week for a few hours. My mother gets car sick every time. She doesn't say anything because she wants to see me, but she really doesn't like car rides."
"I want to see the sky more than once a week," Voset said.
Armos pushed his food around his plate. "I would like something to do other than go to the gym and watch movies. I need a job."
Everyone looked at him.
"What?" He shrugged. "I would like a job. Any job. I would like to find out whether I am good at anything other than killing."
Petrov was documenting everything.
"Write down that I want to be where the others are," Bardov said. "My mother is on that island, but the other mothers are in the village, and so is Asira."
Asira? Camdor asked, a brother's edge in his voice.
"I like her," Bardov said. "She is nice to me."
Nobody argued with that, because nobody knew what to do with it.
"Anything from you?" Petrov asked Dimitri.
Dimitri looked at Mattie. "What would you like to add?"
"We want our own homes," Mattie said. "Anita and I both want that. We want to have families."
"I want a garden," Anita said. "I've never had a garden."
Dimitri put his fork down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Put me down as a scientist who wants a serious lab that isn't in a kitchen."
"That's all good," Bowen said. "Now let's compile the second part of the list. What can you bring to the village that Kian wants?"
"Intelligence on the island," Ravsoh said.
"But we don't have to be in the village to provide that.
All I can think of is our enhanced strength and other abilities that we bring as protectors of the community.
" He smiled at Bowen. "No offense, but each of us is worth at least four Guardians, and you've told us that the clan is short on them. "
"None taken, and you are right. That's the strongest point in your favor, but also the one Kian fears most. He has no way to ensure your loyalty."
"That's so untrue," Bardov said. "We have no one else. We left the Brotherhood behind, and there are no other communities of immortals. This is the only place where we can be accepted."
"That's good." Petrov wrote it down. "Next."
"We can thrall other immortals," Camdor said. "Nobody else can. We can compel through a thrall, which is supposed to be impossible."
"Yeah," Bowen said. "That one is not an asset. That's why you're spending weeks on probation."
There it is, Ravsoh said.
Yaaf sighed. "Everything we can do for the clan is also the reason they won't have us."
"Pretty much," Bowen said.
"Then what is the point of the second list?"
Petrov set his cup down. "The point of the second list is that you're thinking about it backward. You keep offering him gifts, but that's not what he wants. He's afraid of you, and he's right to be."
"What can we do? We can't help what we are, and we don't want to."
"You need to offer him safeguards." Petrov put his pen down.
"In my country, when we wanted a permit to do something dangerous, it wasn't enough to show what we could do and what could be done with it.
We had to show how we could be stopped if something went wrong, and who would hold the key to the switch. "
"Oh," Ravsoh said.
Yaaf nodded. "We don't ask him to trust us. We hand him a leash."
"And that's the easy part." Petrov lifted his pen. "Dimitri and I are the on/off switch. Without us, you can't function for more than seventy-two hours."
Yaaf grimaced. "We solved that problem easily enough when we compelled you both to keep making the drugs for us."
Petrov set the pen down and leaned back in his chair. "They can build us a lab that is inaccessible to you and that they control with a switch."
"It's a simple solution that Kian will like." Bowen turned to Petrov. "Scan that page and send it to me. I'll clean it up and send it to Kian with your request."
The solution might be simple, but it didn't sit well. The collective wanted to be accepted and appreciated for what it had done and what it could contribute, yet it couldn't control what was feared, and those who excelled were seen as a threat rather than an asset.
It was a sobering realization that to be accepted and liked, it was better to be average than exceptional.