by Sara King
Knaaren delighted in singling out a human and forcing him to lean into his mouth to retrieve some stubborn bit of rot that lay between his sharklike fangs. When they finished, he would insist that they did not get the right piece of flesh, telling them that they were worthless and command them to do it again. If they were too shaken to go in a second time, he had the Takki punish them. If they said there was nothing left between his teeth, he had the Takki punish them. If they whimpered and cried and begged, he had the Takki punish them. Then he would move on to the next human and start the process all over again.
Knaaren was in one of these moods when an Ooreiki messenger summoned him to the drill field to oversee the punishment of an attempted escapee. Knaaren chose Joe, who had just been about to start the nerve-wracking process of crawling inside the lion’s jaws, to accompany him.
Out on the plaza, Joe kept his eyes away from the sharp black rows of recruits, staring instead at the ground. The last thing he wanted to do was recognize somebody he knew. He slumped to hide his height and kept the Dhasha between him and the regiment.
Still, he knew instantly which one was Sixth because it was still the only Battalion without the symbol of Congress flapping above it. As much as Knaaren enjoyed playing mind-games with his slaves, he enjoyed it even more with his subordinates. Tril probably wouldn’t get his standards until the day his recruits were to graduate.
“Carry this,” an older Takki ordered, shoving an alien notepad into his hands. “Master will need it to log his discipline choice in the escapee’s record.” Joe recognized some of the symbols, but immediately shifted his eyes back to the ground. The Takki would return for it later, once Knaaren needed it.
The unfortunate kid who had attempted escape was standing at attention in front of Sixth Battalion, pale and wide-eyed. He, of all the kids in the plaza, was wearing white. Joe felt a breath of relief when he did not recognize him, but knew that another black mark against Sixth Battalion was bringing it dangerous attention it didn’t need.
Joe realized upon examining the boy that the growth hormones had been working on some better than others. The kid was as large as Joe and as beefy as a steer, with biceps the size of small turkeys. Looking at him, it was easy to imagine that humans were related to apes. Joe had the feeling that if the drugs hadn’t gotten rid of their hair, the boy would be sprouting a rug from his belly-button to his sternum.
Tertiary Commander Tril stepped forward, as stiffly as ever. “My lord, this recruit is charged with abandonment of his duties, failure to return to his post upon request, and assaulting the soldiers who brought him in.”
It took Joe a moment to realize that the Mexican kid bore a bruised face and a split lip. He was also shivering uncontrollably under Knaaren’s stare, but at least he had the good sense not to run. Joe felt sorry for him, but knew that at least whatever punishment they gave the kid would end. The only way Joe was getting out of Knaaren’s clutches was if he screwed up and the Dhasha ate him.
“A Sixth Degree of perceptual punishment is common for desertion,” the Dhasha said. “Why are you wasting my time?”
“We punished him, sir. After my punishment, he ran away again. This time, he assaulted two soldiers who were sent to retrieve him.”
“He assaulted an Ooreiki?” Knaaren asked. The Prime Commander was in a good mood—he had eaten a Takki that morning and his stomach was full. It was surprising to Joe that he was actually staying awake to hear out this case.
“Two of them, my lord.”
Knaaren snorted. “We both know a Human can’t hurt an Ooreiki.”
“This one did,” Tril said. “It took nanorejuvenation to keep them both from dying.”
“What did he use as a weapon?”
“His hands and a chunk of rock.”
The Dhasha glanced over at the Ooreiki lining the battalion. “Sounds to me like your underlings are incompetent, commander.”
“The boy used tactics he learned in the hunts to lure them both out of hiding, separate them, and ambush them.”
“Sounds like you should be promoting him, not punishing him.”
“He is uncontrollable. He killed a fellow recruit and hurt another before we found him the second time. She is still undergoing treatment for mental trauma.”
“What sort of mental trauma?”
“He utilized her reproductive capabilities against her will.”
Lord Knaaren, who had been boredly scanning the regiment, swiveled. “He did?”
Joe stiffened as he stared at the ground. Don’t let him do it.
“It’s a severe crime amongst Humans. Mentally, they are unprepared to handle unwanted partners. Physically, they can only birth one child every year, so it’s in their best interest to make sure they only breed with acceptable mates. It’s an evolutionary side effect, sir.”
The Dhasha’s eyes were fixed on the Mexican boy. “I want him.”
Commander Tril’s sudah gave a startled flutter. “This is just a routine punishment, sir. My recruits have earned their first badge. You no longer have the right to take them from us.”
“What do you want for him?”
“He is here for punishment, not sale.”
“And I will see to it he receives his punishment,” Knaaren retorted. “What do you want for him?”
Tril’s sudah were almost invisible, they were moving so fast. “To avoid further psychological damage, I believe we need to institute a few rules before things get out of hand.”
Knaaren snorted. “I don’t think so.”
“Several other regiments have been experiencing the same problem,” Tril insisted. “In order to stabilize their recruits, they’ve written up several different sets of laws. It would help if you read them and drafted a standard of—”
“I do not cater to cattle,” Knaaren barked. “If you really believe he has done wrong, hand him over to me and be done with it. I could always use another slave.”
“The boy is one of the younger ones, sir.”
“So?”
“These Humans do not mature like normal creatures. He’s still a child with an adult’s body, with new hormones assaulting his system. He does not have the mental development to understand the psychological repercussions of his actions.”
“I want him,” Knaaren roared.
Tril balked. “The boy did not understand. Even Dhasha hatchlings are given allowances when they murder fellow soldiers…”
Knaaren bared his teeth. “Of course they are given allowances. They have natural urges. It is not their fault they are drawn to blood.”
Joe stared at the back of the Dhasha’s head. You sure are one stupid son of a bitch, you know that?
Tril, seeing that he was going nowhere, straightened. “I cannot give you the recruit, my Lord. We are already well below acceptable battalion numbers. Second Battalion has a full fifty-eight recruits more than we do. Almost an entire platoon. I cannot afford to lose any more. Whatever punishment the recruit receives, I must request that it is non-lethal and does not remove him from his duties.”
The Dhasha swung around to stare at Joe. “What if I trade?”
“Excuse me?”
“A trade,” the Dhasha said. “This one behind me for that one of yours. They’re both large, fleshy. Either one would make a fine soldier. This way, your recruit receives his just punishment and my slave can replace what you lost.”
For the first time, Tril looked at Joe. Immediately, his sudah gave an angry quiver. “That recruit was more of a problem than this one.”
Joe felt like he had been stabbed. He was more of a problem than a rapist and a murderer? The injustice of it made him want to hurt something, but he kept his cool and his head down.
“This one is reformed,” Knaaren said. “Look at him. He has no more rebellion left in him.”
“And if you’re wrong, the Sixth will be weighed down with a useless recruit. I want something else. Something to make it worth my while.”
Knaaren moved toward the
Tertiary Commander until he was staring down at him. “Don’t you dare to presume to tell me what to do, Commander.” Orange saliva had begun to dribble from between his teeth. “Your battalion is just a mongrel mishmash of Kihgl’s leftovers. It will never be battle-ready. You’re lucky I haven’t decommissioned it yet.”
Tril straightened. “We have the highest attacker success rate of any of the Battalions, and our overall score is second only to Second Battalion.”
Knaaren laughed. “You’re proud of your pathetic, molting Takki, aren’t you? You don’t even have your own standards!”
“That is your fault, my lord.”
Joe glanced up, stunned. When did he grow a set of balls?
The Dhasha opened his mouth slightly and stared down at Tril for long moments. Then he said, “It’s your fault, for not deserving them. Your battalion has the highest rate of rebellion and insubordination than any of the others. You yourself are new to the job. I wouldn’t put a single Takki down on you and yours surviving a real battle.”
“Time will prove you wrong, my lord.”
Knaaren paused, the only sound that of the whoosh of air entering his gigantic lungs…and the dribble of saliva on the plaza between his feet. After a long consideration, he said, “Very well. Your standards for the Human.”
“That still leaves me one recruit short, my lord.”
“Your standards and my slave for the Human.”
Joe’s heart caught in his chest and he found he couldn’t breathe in the tense silence that followed.
In that eternity, Tril met Joe’s eyes, a look of disgust on his face. After weeks with the Takki, Joe reflexively dropped his gaze.
Lord Knaaren made an angry guttural barking sound and regurgitated bits of slimy meat in a wave over his innermost row of teeth. “I’m done bargaining.” He turned to walk back to his tower.
“You can have him,” Tril said suddenly. “For the standards and the slave.”
Knaaren turned back, rainbow lips peeled back. “Then do it. Renounce your claim to him. Make it official.”
“That’s hardly necessary…” Tril began.
“I don’t want the Training Committee suggesting I stole one of your recruits. I want him to be mine. Not just a Congressional slave serving me, but mine. I don’t want to give him up to the next Dhasha commander that’s posted here.”
All over the plaza, Ooreiki sudah were fluttering madly, and some of the Battlemasters looked outright furious.
Stammering, Tril said, “It’s against policy to turn a slave over for personal—”
“Don’t preach to me about policy. Either do it or you won’t see your standards at all. I’ll destroy them myself.”
From his place at the head of Second Battalion, Commander Lagrah moved forward. “Commander Tril, I will give you my own standards before seeing you dishonor—”
“Silence!” Knaaren snapped, whirling. “Get back in formation, Lagrah, or I will crush your oorei like I did Kihgl’s.”
Lagrah’s droopy face scrunched in an alien smile. “Then I’d enjoy haunting you along with him. Enjoying the ghost sickness, Knaaren? You look ill. Haven’t been getting enough sleep?”
Knaaren’s entire body stiffened and he did not respond.
Lagrah turned back to Tril. “Commander, you don’t need your standards to be an honorable opponent on the battlefield.”
Tril stood rigidly, sudah flapping like hummingbird wings. “Be it known to everyone gathered here that, as guardian of this recruit—”
Lagrah made a disgusted sound and left, taking his battalion with him.
“Continue!” Knaaren snapped.
“As guardian of this recruit, I have decided he is no longer any use to the Army. I hereby renounce Congress’s claim on him.” In front of the gathered battalion, the Mexican kid was crying.
“Good!” The Dhasha moved toward the Mexican kid. “Human, I find you unaffiliated with Congress, unprotected by its laws. I hereby claim you as my personal slave. Serve me, or die.”
The Mexican kid wet himself. Joe could not dredge up the compassion to feel sorry for him. Not after what he knew Knaaren had planned for him. Joe knew the kid would probably think Knaaren was giving him some sort of reward. He wished he could stop him, do something, but none of Joe’s options ended in anything other than his death—and Knaaren doing what he wanted anyway.
“Follow.” Lord Knaaren turned, leading the way back to his lair.
“What about my standards?” Tril demanded.
The Dhasha turned back, exposing row upon row of glistening black teeth. “You have my slave. Be happy with that.”
The Takki took the notepad from Joe and shoved him towards the battalion.
“But—”
“If it upsets you, go complain to the Training Committee that I didn’t give you your standards in exchange for expelling one of your own. Perhaps next time you will be quicker to accept my offer.” At that, he left, the terrified Mexican kid trailing after him.
Joe stood in the Dhasha’s wake for several minutes, unmoving. Then Sasha’s voice echoed across the plaza like a shot.
“Get in formation, Zero! You’ll have time to look stupid later.”
Sasha stood amidst a sea of bare arms, though she herself kept her sleeves down. She and Libby were the only two that had.
“Now, Zero!”
Joe somehow made his feet move, though he still couldn’t believe what had happened. He kept his eyes straight ahead as he fell into line, unwilling to let his groundmates see how the Takki had broken him.
Other formations were breaking up around them, but Tril stood there staring at Knaaren’s rising elevator with the silence of the dead. When he turned, his sudah were fluttering with fury. “Battlemaster Nebil,” Tril said, his voice cold, “be sure that your newest recruit gets a good workout today.” Joe actually saw hatred in Tril’s eyes. “Look at him,” Tril sneered. “He’s been spending too much time with Takki. You will have to break him back into our routine, work his slave-laziness out of him. Don’t bother letting him change. He can run in those robes. If he can’t keep up, he doesn’t eat. I don’t need weak recruits.”
“Kkee, Commander,” Nebil said. He sounded stiff. “I’ll make sure he keeps up.”
Tril gave Joe a cold look. “You can start now.”
CHAPTER 28: Finding the Flag
Commander Tril used the next seven hours to make Nebil parade Joe around in Takki robes, making sure everyone in the city knew he had just come from peeling rotten skin out from under the Dhasha’s scales. When he finally got bored and handed the platoon back to Nebil, Joe’s robes were sweat-soaked and his knees and wrists were bloody from continuous tripping.
Upon regaining command, Nebil immediately dismissed them with, “Everybody but Zero, get the hell out of here. Move!” Filled with shame, Joe stayed where he was, staring at his feet. Joe felt his groundmates give him unhappy glances as they and the other recruits dispersed for the barracks at a run.
When Nebil approached him, Joe’s body was quivering with humiliation. He couldn’t meet his battlemaster’s eyes. He couldn’t even hold the ‘retain’ position. His fingers were curled into fists and his arms shaking at his sides.
“I see you survived,” Nebil said softly.
Joe couldn’t speak. He turned his head away to stare at the crushed gravel of the plaza.
“If it makes you feel better,” Nebil said, “if I had any doubts before that Kihgl was right in saving you, they’re gone now.”
Joe’s brow furrowed and he turned to look, despite himself.
Nebil was regarding him with something akin to respect. “No one comes out of a Dhasha’s service alive, Zero. The ancestors must love you, you wily Jreet bastard.”
Dressed in the robes of Takki, bleeding and doused in weeks of fear-soured sweat, Joe could only drop his eyes again.
“Go sleep,” Nebil said, nodding at the barracks. “I’ll make sure the cooks give you double rations tomorrow.”
/> Joe nodded silently at Nebil’s kindness and turned to go.
Nebil grabbed his arm, pulling him up short. “I can’t make you battlemaster again,” he warned.
Joe stared at his feet. He hadn’t expected anything else.
“But I can give you squad leader.” Nebil told him. “You lucky sonofabitch.”
Giving another wordless nod, Joe waited for Nebil to release him, then followed silently after his groundteam. He ascended the six flights of stairs and stepped inside Sixth Battalion’s barracks room with a wave of old familiarity.
Gathered just inside the door, his groundteam was waiting for him.
Maggie reached him first, and threw her arms around him, despite the fact he stank and was drenched in sweat. Monk also hugged him, but the other three stayed back, waiting for the younger girls to finish.
“Hey guys,” Joe said. It was all he could do to keep his voice from cracking. His eyes caught on the youngest boy. “Hey Elf,” he added, quieter than he meant to. Elf lowered his gaze and looked away. Around him, everyone fell into an uncomfortable silence. The youngest kids began to fidget. Elf wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Was it bad?” Scott finally asked.
“Yeah.” Joe choked, feeling tears threaten. He looked away. “But it’s over. How’s it been for you guys?”
But Scott wasn’t finished. “You’re so scarred up I didn’t recognize you until Maggie pointed you out. What’d they do to you?”
“I can’t tell you anything Elf hasn’t already told you.”
“He doesn’t talk about it,” Maggie said, giving Elf an accusing look. “He doesn’t want to talk about anything.”
Silently, Elf turned and went back to bed without even glancing back.
“He doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to,” Joe said, watching him. Elf’s body was worse off than his own, the Takki’s claw-marks covering every inch of skin, leaving puckered pink valleys everywhere except on his hands. Elf picked up his boots and began cleaning them, and did not look up again.
Joe turned to Libby, since she was the only one who wasn’t staring at him like he was some sort of ghost. Clearing his throat, he tried again, “So what happened while I was gone?”
