by Sara King
Nervous that he wasn’t answering his question, Joe nonetheless asked, “And what is up there?”
“Spores,” Kihgl responded. “The richest concentration of nutrients on the planet. It can be eaten raw or gathered by the shipload and distributed to factories for distillation. Any planet with ferlii will not starve.”
“It won’t see the sun, either,” Joe muttered, “And it’ll stink like crap.”
Kihgl kept walking. Something about this little jaunt toward the woods was bothering him. Joe’s palms grew sweaty and he watched Kihgl closely, planning out his next move. Humans could run a lot faster than Ooreiki. Almost twice as fast. At the first sign of Kihgl reaching for his gun, he was going to sprint back to the hovercraft and try to get it running before Kihgl caught up.
Still, when Kihgl stopped suddenly, swung around, and put the barrel of his gun in Joe’s face, Joe could only stare at it. The tip was swirling with shimmering waves of heat, an indication that it was charged and ready.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you, Zero.” Kihgl said, his voice cold. “What are you going to do that will make it worthwhile for you to exist and me to die? Why should you live when I’ll lose everything?”
Joe lifted his eyes from the gun to Kihgl’s face. A million reasons flooded through his mind, but he could not pin down any one of them. He was a kid. He missed his family. He liked to play football. He hadn’t said goodbye to his new friends. How would Maggie survive without him? Scott wasn’t big enough to get them a ball whenever Tril made them race. They’d all starve until they grew up, and neither Scott nor Elf would grow up to be more than five-eight or five-ten from malnutrition.
“My groundteam,” Joe said.
Kihgl’s gun never wavered. Despairing that he had said the wrong thing, Joe waited for the shot to come, knowing that running would only make Kihgl pull the trigger faster.
Ages ticked by. Centuries. Millennia, and still Joe stared down the barrel of that gun, waiting. Then, slowly, Kihgl lowered his weapon. The moment of silence seemed to stretch into eternity, Kihgl not offering anything and Joe afraid to ask.
Finally, the Ooreiki said, “I was going to kill you, Zero. I planned on it since the day I saw your mark. I planned out how I would hide your body, how I would explain your disappearance to Lagrah, how I would take the penalty for losing a recruit. If you’d whined about your youth, about your family, about how you wanted to be a good soldier, I would have shot you.” He tucked the gun back into its holster.
Joe held his breath. So that means he’s not going to shoot me?
Kihgl was silent for several more moments, picking rock dust from a gouge-mark in the black stone that almost looked like tooth marks in an apple. With his back to Joe, he said, “I killed someone today.”
Joe felt goosebumps break out all over his body.
“A Peacemaker. He was just doing his job, researching what he had been ordered to research, but I had to stop him. I had to save your life, just in case the Trith was right.”
“Right…about what?” Joe asked weakly.
Kihgl fixed him with an intent stare. “About the fall of Congress.”
Joe did not know what to say.
“I made it look like an accident, but only time will tell if you evaded them. Whatever happens, I will be gone. My fate has already been decided.”
“So you’re not killing me?”
Kihgl continued to pick at the rock. “For as long as anyone can remember, there’s been a prophecy that spells destruction for Congress. The Fourfold Prophecy. Nobody tells it more than once, since the more times it is told, the more chances Peacemakers will hear it.” Kihgl turned to face him. “So I will tell it to you.”
Joe felt goosebumps prickle his arms again.
“The prophecy arrived soon after the eight original species banded together to create the first Regency. It originated in four separate places at once, two of which Congress hadn’t even discovered yet. It says a race will one day rise up against Congress and win its independence, and that Congress will smash its armies to pieces trying to bring it back. The Dhasha believe they are the ones, but their revolts always end in defeat. It makes the believers think that it will be one of the new species we discover. Some, like Nebil, are even foolish enough to believe it could be Humans.”
Joe was unsure what to say. Kihgl still radiated a feeling of instability, like he was only a heartbeat from yanking his gun from his belt and blowing Joe away, despite what he had said. Carefully, Joe ventured, “You think it could be humans, too.”
“Not Humans. You’re too frail. I think it will be something else. Something new.” Kihgl turned back to the wall. “But it’s hard to deny the power in a Trith’s stare.” The Ooreiki looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t.
“Did you really save my life?” Joe asked.
“Kkee. The Trith said I would.” Kihgl glanced at the horizon and seemed to steady himself. “Every soldier must endeavor to avoid the Peacemakers, but now you must be doubly sure not to fall under their scrutiny. Along with the prophecy of my death, the Trith told me that the bearer of your mark would in all probability die. There was only one path you could take to save yourself, and out of the infinite possibilities in someone’s future, it is not likely you’ll choose it.”
“The Trith talked about me?” Joe asked, stunned.
“He did.”
Caught completely off guard, Joe simply blurted, “What did he say?”
Immediately, the secondary commander’s expression darkened. “My fortune was for me to know, not you,” Kihgl said harshly. “If the Trith want you to know anything, they’ll come to you personally. Just pray they don’t. A Trith never gives the whole prophecy.”
“The whole…prophecy? They tell futures?”
Kihgl snorted. “They are the future, boy. They walk in it as we walk in the present. If one comes for you, run. Don’t listen to what he’s got to say. Just get as far away as you can. Tell the Peacemakers you saw one—but never tell them it came for you. That’s a death-sentence as surely as quoting the Fourfold Prophecy.”
Joe was getting more and more freaked out, realizing that he was finally recognizing the odd tone he’d first noticed to Kihgl’s voice. The secondary commander was speaking as if he had already accepted his own demise…and was counseling Joe on how to avoid the same fate. “Okay,” Joe said slowly, “What does a Trith look like? How do I avoid them?”
Kihgl flicked the rock chips from his fingertips and turned to him. “Trith look like what Humans thought aliens looked like before Congress discovered your planet. Small and gray. Big heads, black eyes. Somehow, you knew. Nebil thinks it means you Humans are the ones.”
“But why would they visit us?”
Kihgl looked across the ruined city and seemed to think about it. “To give you something,” he finally suggested
Joe snorted. “If they gave anybody anything, they gave it to the government and the government hid it from us. That’s so typical. They should have told us.”
“Maybe it wasn’t something to be told,” Kihgl said, his pale brown eyes returning to him. “Maybe it was something to be used.” And, in that moment, Joe almost thought he saw…hope…in his secondary commander’s eyes.
Joe couldn’t help but snort. “If they did, lot of good it did us when Congress attacked.”
Kihgl stiffened as if he had personally insulted him. “We didn’t attack. If we’d attacked, your backwards planet would have been annihilated right down to its last insignificant iron atom.”
Which, Joe realized, was probably pretty damn close to the truth. He swallowed nervously, deciding a change of subject was appropriate. “Why was somebody investigating me? Was it for what I did on Earth?”
Kihgl snorted. “Tril reported my collection of Prophecy-related artifacts. The Peacemakers are conducting an investigation. Soon they’re going to find that ever since the Trith visited me, I’ve spent large portions of my life researching the Fourfold Prophecy. It’s
enough to have me executed, just like the Trith predicted. If they find a way to connect you to the drawing in my personal files, they’ll execute you, as well. The Peacemaker I killed was sifting through the ship’s files, examining the time I took you to my dormitory. I had to destroy his brain sac so they could not access his memories of the symbol on your arm.”
He really saved my life. Joe swallowed hard, dread thickening into an intestine-squeezing ball in Joe’s gut. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You killed someone to save me?”
Kihgl made a croaking grunt. “It’s custom for a Trith to make four prophecies during a reading. He did so with me. Three of the four have come true. I don’t have a choice. I never did.”
“Yeah, but prophecies can be vague. Like I said about the cave—”
“These weren’t vague. These were precise, right down to the moment each would die.”
“…each would…die?”
“Three very good friends. The Trith told me where and when I would watch each of them die.”
“What was the fourth prophecy?”
Kihgl hesitated, his huge brown eyes showing his first hint of real fear. “He said I will die frightened and alone on Kophat, with no one to carry my oorei to Poen because it will be destroyed.”
Joe felt a wash of goosebumps roll down his back and arms. He didn’t know what to say. How did someone argue with a prophecy? It was like trying to argue politics or religion—it was no use because Kihgl was already convinced. And Kihgl looked…terrified. Clearing his throat anxiously, he said, “Poen’s the place with all the ghosts?”
Kihgl looked away a moment, seeming to steady himself. “If an Ooreiki does not get his oorei carried to Poen, he will haunt whatever place holds his oorei until he is taken home. Even a rebel Dhasha prince will gather up the oorei on a battlefield and return them to Poenian priests rather than risk the wrath of the dead.”
“So what happens when they’re destroyed?” Joe asked softly.
It took Kihgl a long time to respond. When he finally did, he swept a handful of pulverized rock from atop a ruined building. “They dissolve,” he whispered, looking at the specks of obsidian he had collected into his hand. “Like dust in the wind.”
“So what are you going to do?” Joe asked nervously.
Kihgl tossed his fistful of rock dust at the ground. “I don’t know. It’s too late to kill you.” Kihgl started to head back the way they had come, then paused. “Here.” He tugged a black circle the size of a large bracelet from his arm and held it out to Joe.
Joe gave it a wary glance. Another shock collar?
“It’s not a modifier, you furgling,” Kihgl growled. “It’s a kasja. Give it to Battlemaster Nebil so he knows of my choice.” Kihgl shoved it into Joe’s hand. The thing was distinctly alien, though its black, utilitarian curves were unmistakably military in origin.
“Take off your shirt.” Kihgl withdrew the small black ranking device from his vest and waited as Joe reluctantly unbuttoned his jacket. Joe got goosebumps as Kihgl reached forward, touching the cool metal to his chest.
He’s marking me as one of them.
“I don’t want it,” Joe said suddenly. He threw the kasja on the ground between them and slapped Kihgl’s rubbery tentacle away from his chest before he could finish. “I’m not fighting for Congress. I’m going home.”
As soon as he said it, Joe knew Kihgl would kill him. As Kihgl’s sudah began flipping like enraged hummingbirds’ wings in his wrinkled neck, Joe backed up a pace nervously, tensing. Too fast to dodge, Kihgl whipped a heavy, stinging tentacle around Joe’s neck and shoved him forward so that his face landed in the glassy dirt beside the black armband. “Pick it up. You don’t want battlemaster, that’s fine. The kasja is a message for Nebil.”
Joe realized at that moment he would pick up the kasja or Kihgl would kill him. He picked up the kasja.
“Don’t even think about putting it on. You don’t deserve it.” Kihgl’s eyes glinted with rage as he spun and returned to the haauk.
Having the distinct feeling he could follow or be left behind, Joe struggled to catch up.
CHAPTER 11: The Tribunal’s Visit
When Battlemaster Nebil found Joe fully dressed, he was not amused. Joe tried to give him Kihgl’s armband, but the Ooreiki stared at it so long Joe wondered if he’d done something wrong. Finally, Nebil said, “You’ll wear it. To remind yourself what he’s done for you. I ever see you without it, I’ll kill you.”
Joe stared. “But Kihgl told me not to—”
“Kihgl is dead,” Nebil snapped.
Joe’s heart skipped. “But I just talked to him.”
“A day, a week, it won’t matter. He’s dead. And you’re the cause. Let you remember that, when you live and he dies. Now put it on.”
Biting his lip, Joe slid the armband over his wrist and up his forearm. It settled comfortably over his bicep, under the cloth of his uniform, though to Joe it felt like the thing had been made of cold, heavy lead. He wanted to get rid of it, to do anything except have it there, on his arm, strangling the muscle.
Apparently, Nebil did not mind the fact Joe had hid it under his sleeve, because he barely gave it a passing glance before launching into a tirade about his state of dress.
“Can’t you follow one simple instruction, Zero? Tuck your shirt in. Pull your pants out of your boots. What do you think you are? An Overseer? Take it all off. No, not the kasja. You’ll wear that ‘till you die. Start with your boots. You want to be dressed so badly, you can teach the others how to do it. Start over.”
Battlemaster Nebil made Joe dress and undress eight times before allowing the others to begin putting their clothes on. By that time, after the stress and septic air sticking in his lungs, Joe was close to vomiting. He sat down on one of the groundteam beds to catch his breath, Kihgl’s kasja tight on his arm.
“Zero, is my instruction so dull that you must sit down to endure it? Stand up! Where’s your rank? Kihgl thought you were battlemaster material, yet all I see is a fat primate without a star. Why didn’t he rank you, Zero? He must’ve changed his mind, eh? You do something to piss him off, you stupid janja turd? Get up and start sprinting up and down the aisle. As fast as you can. Don’t stop until I tell you.”
Joe, his lungs already struggling for breath, was in a near-panic. He knew he couldn’t run without vomiting up the meager bowl of nuajan that he’d swallowed that morning. He started to shuffle along, desperately trying to keep his breathing under control. It felt like somebody was shoveling the contents of a porta-potty down his bronchial tubes, filling them until there was nothing left to absorb air.
Joe never knew Battlemaster Nebil had snuck up behind him until his casual blow sent him sprawling. “You stinking puddle of shabba vomit! Run. Let’s see how long it takes you to soil your shirt like a Jahul. Recruit battlemaster my ass. You’ve never excelled in anything. Your only strength is you were bigger than the rest of them when you were Drafted. I give you eighteen tics before you pass out like a Takki.”
Joe stood, fighting to keep his breathing under control. This was the first time Battlemaster Nebil had singled him out, and before this, Joe felt as if he had some sort of understanding with the Ooreiki.
At his hesitation, Nebil hit him again, sending him back to the floor. “What makes you think you should be here instead of Kihgl? You don’t deserve it. You can’t even follow simple orders. Look at you. You’re just a frightened Takki. Get up. Get up! You ferlii-eating primate get your Takki-loving ass off the floor before I puncture it with my foot.”
Joe sat up, struggling for air. The edges of his vision were fading again and Joe gripped the bed nearest him to keep from passing out. Nebil reached down and wrapped a tentacle around his throat. Into his face, Nebil said, “Kihgl thinks you’re battlemaster material, but you’re not. You’re just ungrateful, selfish Human slime. You’re not worthy of his sacrifice.”
Looking into Nebil’s furious brown eyes, Joe knew he spoke of Kihgl’s dec
ision to let Joe live, not the lack of a battlemaster’s star. Nebil blames me. He thinks I should have died.
Another Ooreiki had appeared in the doorway and used that moment to make his presence known.
“Did Kihgl really choose Zero as a battlemaster? Has he lost his Jreet-loving mind?”
Battlemaster Nebil wrenched around to glare at Small Commander Linin. “If Kihgl wants to waste his recruit potential, that’s his prerogative. It’s gonna come from his hand, though. I’m not gonna attach my name to this sootbag.”
“Sometimes I think that seventh point sucks all the rationality out of them.”
“Don’t I know it.” Battlemaster Nebil reached down to haul Joe off the floor. Before Joe was quite balanced, Nebil shoved him across the room, towards the others. “Until Zero proves he’s worth more than a wad of Takki soot, Kihgl can kiss my ass.”
Commander Linin gave an amused snort. “Regiment formation in thirty-six tics. Commander Lagrah says the Tribunal arrived this afternoon and wants to inspect us. ”
Battlemaster Nebil froze, his sudah fluttering suddenly. “Ghosts of Takki curse them! Don’t they know we’re two weeks behind?!”
“And we haven’t even met our Prime yet. Kkee, the fire-loving jenfurglings know. But they’ve already inspected twenty other cities and don’t want to delay, so whose ghost is our Prime to tell them to wait? Dhasha or no, they don’t give a Takki soot.”
“They didn’t make Lagrah Prime?” Nebil demanded. “He’s already got the rank.”
“The planetary Overseer decided that every new Kophati regiment should be run by one of his sons. And apparently he’s got enough sons. You ask me, the sooter’s making a move to rebel. In the Old Territory, the damned furg.”
The little gill-like sudah were fluttering ever-faster in Nebil’s neck. “Rethavn? I thought they convicted him and sent him to Levren.”
