by Sara King
And, when Joe looked, he couldn’t see any pieces of corpses clinging to his rows of teeth.
What if Dhasha don’t need to eat? Joe thought, on a flush of panic. Just how long could he stand there, without food or sustenance? How long could he go without sleep? Already, Joe was weaving on his feet, light-headed with exhaustion. He could barely hold his head up, whereas Prince Bagkhal had shown absolutely no change whatsoever.
And, now that Joe had thought about it, could he really expect a Dhasha prince to serve him, when it was so much easier to bat him in half?
I can’t win, Joe thought. Soot soot soot, I can’t win this…
With the thought, Joe felt his palms slicken and his heart start to pound. His every instinct started to scream at him to back away, to retreat from this monster’s striking-distance. In that moment, Joe realized he was cracking.
“I’m not your slave,” Joe managed, sweating. What would Bagkhal do with him, if he won? Eat him? Breed him?
I can’t lose, Joe thought. I can’t…
Prince Bagkhal said nothing, as inert as a statue.
Breakfast came and went, and Joe’s knees started trembling with the effort of holding him up. Battalions arranged themselves on the plaza for morning formation, and it was all Joe could do not to return their curious looks.
Not your slave, Joe thought, lifting his chin and meeting the creature’s eyes stubbornly. Not your slave, goddamn it.
The Dhasha remained utterly stone-still, waiting.
It was as battlemasters began leading their platoons to the chow hall for lunch the next afternoon that Joe finally buckled. He bit his lip and looked away from the monster in front of him, trying to ignore the shame in his soul. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll just find a way to kill myself later.”
“Good,” Bagkhal said, his huge body suddenly coming alive again. “By the rules of ka-par, I accept your surrender. Come with me.” He turned and started stalking across the plaza as if nothing had ever happened.
Bristling, Joe did as he was told. As soon as the Ooreiki manning the elevator began its ascent, the battalion commanders began shouting orders on the plaza below, organizing the morning inspection. Joe felt an ache of resentment as he watched. That should have been him down there. Except Nebil had betrayed him. Given him to the Dhasha. As a slave.
“You’ll return to your Battalion as soon as I’m finished discussing your new post with you,” Bagkhal said. At least twice the size of Knaaren, he took up so much room in the cramped elevator that his jaw brushed Joe when he talked. Joe flinched back, revulsion drawing bile into the back of his throat.
Then his words registered and Joe glanced up. “Wait…I will?”
“Of course. Contrary to what Knaaren believed, the fact that you Humans make good pets does not give him license to claim slaves. You’ll have to forgive his indiscretion,” Bagkhal said. “This always happens during a species’ first Draft, especially if that species is as dexterous as yours. Therefore, I’ll be subtracting twelve turns from your contract for the wrongs you suffered under Knaaren. If you choose to add the duties of my assistant to your training for the next three turns, then I will subtract another six.”
Joe blinked at him. All he could manage was, “But…you won.”
“Winning the ka-par means only that I get to choose what to do with you. I choose to subtract twelve turns from your enlistment and offer you a place as my assistant.”
Joe felt a brief welling of gratitude, which he quickly squashed. “You’re lying.”
“I will do it as soon as I get to a terminal.”
Joe wanted to believe him, but he shook his head and stared out over the plaza. I’ll never trust a Dhasha.
“You don’t believe me,” Bagkhal noted. He didn’t sound surprised. Just…curious.
Joe ignored him.
After a moment of silence, the Dhasha said, “You aren’t by any chance older than the rest of these recruits, are you Zero?”
His head jerked back to the Dhasha, wary. “Maybe.”
The Dhasha’s eyes glittered. “Thought so. Since you so graciously gave me a chance to study you, I noticed your rash. Classic example of post-puberty hormone conflict. How old were you when they Drafted you, Zero?”
“Fourteen,” Joe said, his voice a whisper. His heart had once again begun hammering in his ears.
“I’ll have them change your rations. Tril’s a jenfurgling not to let Nebil change your diet. I noticed he’d filed several petitions, but until now I hadn’t realized why. Next time you eat at the chow hall, the problem should be fixed. If it’s not, come talk to me.”
“Shouldn’t you be offering to send me home?” Joe demanded. “You guys took me off my planet illegally.”
“Wrong,” the Dhasha said, clicking his teeth together. “You assaulted an Ooreiki ground team back on Earth. They lost all the recruits they’d been transporting. For that alone, you were a legal draftee. Further, you embarrassed Lagrah, lost us an entire battalion. By all rights, they should have used you as an Unclaimed. That they didn’t still amazes me. Vkala usually aren’t so kind.”
Joe grimaced and looked away.
“Why did you attack Lagrah’s collection team, anyway, Zero?”
“He had my brother,” Joe managed.
“Ah.” Bagkhal was quiet a moment. “Is he here now? In one of the other battalions, perhaps?”
“He escaped,” Joe said, his throat getting tight. “I distracted them and he ran.”
“So you took his place,” Prince Bagkhal said thoughtfully.
He had taken Sam’s place, and now he was a slave again and he hated his brother for it. Joe swallowed and nodded.
“Sometimes,” Prince Bagkhal said, “when the Mothers weave their tapestry, the needs of the many replace the needs of the one.”
“Or sometimes you’re just stupid,” Joe muttered.
They rode the rest of the way to the top in silence, Joe staring out over the city, wondering what it would be like to leap over the balcony and swan-dive to his death. The Dhasha, for his part, said nothing more.
As soon as the elevator came to a stop, Bagkhal stepped onto the rooftop and went over to a boxlike object built into the wall under a wide overhang.
To the box, he said, “Access the file of Recruit Zero, Sixth Battalion, Second Brigade, Eighty-Seventh Regiment, Fourteenth Human Ground Force.”
Immediately, an Ooreiki voice said, “File accessed, Prince Bagkhal.” It was the same computerized voice that Joe had heard each time Tril had taken him over to a terminal to observe as he added more time to Joe’s service. Joe tensed, realizing this was where Bagkhal erased him from the system entirely, to start his penance as a Dhasha slave.
“Remove twelve turns from Zero’s current enlistment term.”
“Twelve turns have been removed, Prince Bagkhal. Updated enlistment term is fifty-eight turns.”
Prince Bagkhal made a startled grunt and glanced over his shoulder at Joe. “Jreet gods, boy… Whose scales did you crawl under? Enlistments start at thirty-three!” He glanced back at the box. “For what cause was Recruit Zero’s enlistment lengthened?”
“Recruit Zero’s enlistment was lengthened for sixteen counts of disobedience to superior officers, twenty-one counts of disrespect for superior officers, seven counts of severe injuries, eighteen counts of minor injuries, twelve counts of—”
“Remove another twenty turns.”
“Twenty turns have been removed, Prince Bagkhal. Updated enlistment term is thirty-eight turns.”
“That’s more reasonable,” the Dhasha said. “Seal that, and put a lock on it. Altered by overseer or above only.”
“Recruit Zero’s file has been sealed and locked, Prince Bagkhal,” the Ooreiki computer said pleasantly. “Further alteration requiring approval of Overseer or above.”
Prince Bagkhal again glanced over his shoulder. “Believe me now, Zero?”
Joe’s heart was pounding like a jackhammer. He had been mentally adding up the
extensions to his enlistment in despair over the last weeks, knowing that, at the rate he was going, he would never actually be able to leave the Army.
Without another word, Bagkhal turned and disappeared into the gaping door set in the wall.
He just reset my enlistment term, Joe thought, utterly stunned.
Still, Joe held back, his chest aching in terror, remembering the last time he had gone through those doors, and how he had almost not come back out. Perhaps Bagkhal just wanted to lull him into complacency…so he could eat him later.
“The elevator will not go down again unless I request it,” Bagkhal said from inside the den. “You might as well come inside, Zero.”
“I could jump,” Joe said. “Flatten myself on the ground out there. Medics wouldn’t have a chance in hell of saving me.”
“That’s true,” Bagkhal agreed. Then he left Joe alone with the baffled Ooreiki elevator-operator.
Though he swore to himself he wouldn’t follow, several minutes later, Joe swallowed his pride and stepped into the monster’s lair. Immediately, he noticed that the lavish cushions Knaaren had spread around the place had been removed. Now, only stark, bare stone remained. In one corner, a single metal desk stood over a utilitarian Ooreiki chair. Prince Bagkhal sat beside it, watching him. There was not a single slave in sight.
Joe hesitated at the top of the stairs leading down into the den. “What’s all this waiting ash about, anyway? You trying to burn my head or what?”
“Obedience broke down because of a breach of trust,” the Dhasha said. “I am attempting to repair that trust. Is it working?”
Joe cleared his throat embarrassedly. “Maybe.”
“Good. Are you planning on staying up there all night?”
Joe peered over the railing anxiously. Just an empty room and a really big burning Dhasha. Tensely, he descended the stairs halfway, then paused on the staircase, poised to bolt back out to the elevator at the first sign of aggression. “What do you want?”
“Come sit,” Bagkhal said, indicating the scoop-shaped chair with a swipe of his claws.
Joe eyed it, then eyed the Dhasha. Bagkhal just waited in silence. Warily, Joe descended the rest of the way into the lion’s den and sat in the proffered seat.
“As you know, Dhasha civilization has depended much upon the hands of our slaves,” Bagkhal said. “We do not have the dexterity to manipulate small objects.” Bagkhal lifted one rigid, clawed paw a few inches off of the ground to illustrate his point. “For that reason, most Dhasha take slaves. I’m one of the few who does not. I favor having a friend help me, instead.”
Joe curled his lip. “I am not your friend.”
“Not yet.”
Joe lurched from his chair, making the chair scrape against the diamond floor with a metallic screech. “I’m not burning grooming you.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
Joe stared at him a long moment, then reluctantly sat back down. “So what do you want?”
“Your hands,” Bagkhal said simply. “Manage my files for me, manipulate devices, open doors, carry objects… Everything you take for granted. In return, I will take six more turns off your enlistment.”
“You want a secretary.”
“Kkee.”
Joe chewed on that a moment. “You’re not taking me away from my battalion? Out of the hunts?”
“You will still participate in all of your responsibilities as a recruit battlemaster. You will be included in all the same training and exercises. Instead of going to sleep with the others, you will simply come here to help me.”
“Wait. I won’t be getting any sleep?”
“I will provide you with drugs to keep you alert.”
Joe felt himself staring, his heart pounding in his chest. Was Bagkhal really serious? Another six years off his contract?
“Okay,” Joe agreed. “But I want it in writing.”
A wry look passed over Prince Bagkhal’s sharklike face. “Dhasha don’t put things in writing. It is meaningless to us, since we are never the ones to write it. However, I will give you my word.”
“A Dhasha’s word is soot to me.”
Prince Bagkhal lunged to his feet, black rows of triangular teeth bared. “What did you say?”
Joe stood up to face him. “Go ahead and eat me. Show every one of your commanders out there just how good your burning word is.”
For a spit second, Prince Bagkhal tensed and Joe looked Death in the eyes. Then, seemingly for no reason at all, the Dhasha relaxed. “If this is how you acted around Knaaren, it’s amazing all he did was give you a few scars.”
“I was too much of a coward back then to stand up to him.”
“Or maybe you sense I’m not going to eat you,” Prince Bagkhal said thoughtfully. “However, I’ve already suffered enough insubordination from you for a thousand recruits. Any more and I’ll find somebody else.”
Joe glanced at the desk, feeling oddly ashamed.
Bagkhal sat again. “Your first task as my assistant will be to deliver the list of rules in front of you to every battlemaster in the regiment. Return here once Nebil dismisses you for the night.”
“List of rules?” Joe glanced at the electronic device in front of him. The symbols on the screen were much more complex than the simplified characters on the PPU. “What does it say?”
The Dhasha cocked a sharklike head at him. “Are you going to make a habit out of questioning me?”
“Probably.”
“Then you should also make a habit out of being disappointed. Go do as you were bid, Zero. Come back when Nebil is finished with you.”
Joe picked up the electronic unit and started toward the stairs. Then he hesitated, turning.
“Kkee?” Bagkhal asked.
“I’ve got a friend,” Joe said. “The one Tril tried to kill with the perceptual unit.”
“I warn you, if you’re about to ask me to send her back to Earth—”
“No,” Joe said quickly. “She loves it here. I think she actually likes it better here than she did back at home.” He hesitated. “Someone cut out her tongue. Medical fixed her broken legs, but they didn’t replace her tongue.”
Prince Bagkhal gave him a long look. “Technically, a tongue is not necessary for a recruit’s function.”
“You said you’d take six years off my contract if I helped you,” Joe pressed on grudgingly. “Would you give her a new tongue, instead?”
“Now?”
Joe nodded.
The Dhasha cocked his head at him. “You’re asking me to reward you for work you haven’t done yet.”
Joe flushed. This was where the Dhasha questioned his honor, as Joe had done to him a few moments earlier. He lowered his head, ashamed.
“Very well. Tell Nebil to send her to medical. I might as well have them cure her of the aftereffects of the Eighth at the same time. No use having a valuable recruit waste a week of training in a coma.”
Joe’s head jerked up and he stared, and this time he couldn’t stop the wash of gratitude toward the alien, mingled with grudging respect. “You fix her,” Joe said softly, “and I’ll help you as much as you want.”
“Thank you,” Prince Bagkhal said, with genuine relief, “I’m helpless without an assistant.” He sighed when Joe looked startled. “I don’t delude myself, Zero. I’m old. I’ve seen enough of this world to know that my people can’t survive on our own. In a normal evolutionary process, we would have ended up as the Takki’s mounts, possibly their soldiers. By all rights, the Takki should have exterminated us long ago. They still can, in an instant.” He shook his huge head. “Yet somewhere the natural evolution failed and here we are.” He turned, his emerald stare boring into Joe’s. “And, somehow, when I look into Humans eyes, I see our future.”
Joe bristled immediately. What’s he trying to say?
Bagkhal clicked his teeth together. “No, I’m not saying Humans will replace Takki. Unless your people do something incredibly stupid, Congress will not let th
e Dhasha have your planets. I was merely saying that, despite our great strength, there is something within you Humans that makes me even more nervous than the Takki. Something that makes me wonder why Congress didn’t destroy Earth as soon as it was found.”
Joe felt his skin tingle with goosebumps. “What do you mean?”
Bagkhal seemingly shook himself. “Never mind,” he said abruptly. “My fight with Knaaren left me exhausted and rambling. Go tend to your tasks. I’ll send an Ooreiki to deal with your friend.”
Joe hesitated. “Thanks. And…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have insulted you.”
“You’re right,” Bagkhal said, sounding amused. “But I accept your apology.”
#
Bagkhal was as good as his word.
The next day, Libby was seated with Scott and Maggie in the chow hall, tentatively scooping green slime into her mouth and moving it around with her new tongue. Just back from the medics, she was the only one in the entire cafeteria not wearing white from their last hunt against Second Battalion. Joe, having only then finished writing and delivering a post-hunt report for prince Bagkhal, grabbed some food and sat down across from her.
“How is it?” he asked.
“Ith a lithle thore,” she admitted.
“You sound like you just got back from the dentist,” Joe laughed. “My dad sounded like that when he got a root canal.”
“You should hear her say jenfurgling,” Maggie giggled.
“Thuth up.”
“Tell him about how you were chewing and you thought you had your mouth closed but you didn’t. See her vest?”
“I will beath you thilly.”
“How long until you can talk normally?” Joe asked.
“Docthor thaid three or four dayth.” She hesitated. “Thank you, Thoe.”
He blushed and looked at his food. It resembled runny baby crap. “You’re welcome.”
“Maggie thayth you’re working for thath Dhatha. Thath how you paithe for ith.”
Joe shot Maggie an irritated glance, then shrugged. “It’s nothing. I said I was going to help and I meant it.”
