Zero Recall

by Sara King

  “Stay out of this.” The Jreet flung Joe across the room by the ankle. Joe collided with a tangled pile of chairs, but by that time, he was barely conscious. The Jreet picked him up again, this time by the front of his T-shirt, and lifted him four feet off the ground, until his head was crammed up against the ceiling—and he was looking directly into the Jreet’s angry golden eyes.

  Ninths from his face, the crocodilian mouth said in heavily-accented Congie, “I won’t break your legs. But if you make me miss my flight, Prime, I will hunt you down and you’ll wish I had.” Then the Jreet dropped him to the floor, grabbed him by a foot, and Joe was being dragged again.

  Joe saw the Huouyt sigh and follow them into the street before he passed out.

  #

  “See?” Daviin dumped his battered cargo inside the shuttle. “Some things are better done with force.”

  The Huouyt did not seem to share his satisfaction. He was giving the Human an appraising look. “He’s going to be commanding our groundteam in a couple weeks, Jreet. I don’t think pounding him unconscious did much to ingratiate him with you.”

  “Bah.” Daviin disgustedly began forming coils, the coolness of the shuttle interior irritating him. “The fool needed it.”

  “I agree, but he might not see it that way.”

  Daviin laughed. “What do I care what a soft-skinned little weakling thinks?”

  “He’s your Prime.” The Huouyt was in his natural form once more, his birth defect plain for all to see. Knowing what Daviin knew about Huouyt society, this Huouyt’s purple eye was a badge of shame beside his normal, electric-blue one. He wondered again why the Huouyt did not take another Huouyt’s pattern to spare himself the disgrace.

  “He’s not my Prime until we get to Neskfaat,” Daviin said. “And even then, I won’t give a melaa’s snort what he thinks of me.” Then, looking down at the battered pile of flesh and bone, he said, “My goal is the Vahlin. The only reason I’m here is that the Ground Force wouldn’t clear me for a shuttle ride from Jeelsiht unless I was on a groundteam, and this is the fool they chose as my Prime. They can all be damned. These pathetic weaklings and their politics mean nothing to me.”

  The Huouyt’s odd-colored eyes flickered to the broken Human. “Obviously. You should administer nanos, in case he’s bleeding internally.”

  Daviin flinched. “They do that?”

  “Not everyone can be a Jreet.”

  Daviin stared down at the Human. “How could they put him in charge? A Takki could best him.”

  “They give Humans biosuits, just like Ooreiki.”

  Daviin’s face twisted with disdain. “Dose the weakling.”

  “I give the orders here, Jreet,” the Huouyt said calmly. “I told you to do it.”

  Daviin straightened, until he towered over Be’shaar. “Oh? Do you see a rank upon my chest?”

  “You’re a Battlemaster,” the Huouyt said, looking completely unperturbed.

  Daviin laughed. “I’m a Sentinel-trained Jreet warrior and heir to Vora. Your ranks mean a Dhasha’s fart to me.”

  He and the Huouyt locked gazes. Daviin waited. Tics marched by, neither of them moving. On the floor, the Human’s lungs began to rattle.

  Sighing, the Huouyt broke the deadlock and went to the shuttle’s emergency supplies set into the wall. He found a nano kit and, as Daviin watched, he administered a dose to the unconscious Human.

  He was putting it away just in time for a young Ooreiki to step through the door of the shuttle. The creature’s eyes widened as he glanced between Daviin and the Huouyt. Tentatively, he said, “Is one of you our Prime Commander?”

  “There’s your Prime.” Daviin waved a disgusted hand at the crumpled Human on the floor.

  The Ooreiki froze, obviously thinking the war had already started. “What happened to him?” the Ooreiki whispered.

  “He tripped.”

  The Ooreiki’s eyes scanned the bruises and bloody scratches and he opened his mouth to say something stupid. The Huouyt interrupted him. “Are you Galek, then?”

  The young Ooreiki straightened and gave a sloppy Congressional salute. Nothing like the sharp, swift motion that every Sentinel knew by heart. Daviin’s disdain for the other creatures in the room grew by the tic.

  “I am Be’shaar. The scaly red beast filling up the room is Daviin. And, as the Jreet said, that is Joe Dobbs, your new Prime.”

  “A Human?” The Ooreiki’s liquid brown eyes were fixed on their ground leader with confusion. “What will we do with a Human?”

  “Obey him,” Be’shaar said.

  Daviin snorted and gave the Human a derisive look. “I’ll dance on my own tek before I obey that fool.”

  “You’ll obey him, or I’ll send you back to Vora so you can return to your petty bickerings with Welu.”

  Daviin lashed out, dragging the Huouyt off his three boneless legs, until his huge bi-colored eyes were only ninths from his own. Into the Huouyt’s face, he said, “And as soon as Congress releases me from my oath, I’ll gladly spit you, Huouyt. If there’s one thing I hate more than a Welu, it’s a Huouyt.” He pushed his tek from its sheath, until the poisoned tip was visible only ninths from the writhing white cilia on Be’shaar’s chest.

  Be’shaar did not even spare a glance at the tek. The Huouyt’s eyes were cold, utterly calm. “Release me.”

  Daviin continued to hold the Huouyt off the ground. He lowered his face until their eyes almost touched. “If anything gets between me and my revenge on Neskfaat, I will hold you personally responsible.”

  “Now, Jreet.”

  Daviin dropped the Huouyt. Twisting to face the Ooreiki, he said, “You say your name is Galek?”

  The Ooreiki watched Be’shaar as the Huouyt slowly got back to his feet, then looked again at the crumpled Human. Returning his eyes to Daviin, he whispered, “This isn’t going to work, is it?”

  “There’s a reason why Congress has never made a multi-species team before this,” Be’shaar said tightly, never taking his eyes from Daviin. “Some don’t play well with others.”

  “I can see that,” Galek replied. His eyes dropped to the Human. “Are they giving us a full six?” He did not sound like he was looking forward to it.

  “Yes,” Daviin said, coiling into a corner as the shuttle launched. He locked eyes with the Huouyt. “You’re young, aren’t you?”

  It took the Ooreiki a moment to realize he was talking to him. “I, uh. Yes.” He shied away from Daviin’s coils, getting as far from him and the Huouyt as possible. It didn’t do much good. In such a confined space, Daviin had to wrap his body over itself several times in order to fit.

  “What’d you do to get this assignment?” Daviin asked, gaze still locked with the Huouyt.

  Out of the corner of Daviin’s eyes, he saw the Ooreiki’s sudah begin to flutter. “I guess, I uh…”

  “Your Battlemaster asked you a question, boy,” the Huouyt snapped. He, in turn, never took his eyes off of Daviin.

  “Watch your own spears, Huouyt,” Daviin snapped. “I’m a Sentinel, not a Battlemaster, and it’s the boy’s choice whether to answer. Jreet do not stoop to using our rank to force furgs to do our will.”

  “You mean those Jreet who are smaller than you obey or you kill them.” The Huouyt had righted itself and was casually smoothing the cilia that Daviin had displaced with his grip. “How honorable.”

  “I might kill them anyway,” Daviin said, still holding the Huouyt’s stare. “If they continue to prattle.” Disgusting. That he had been paired with a Huouyt was...disgusting.

  “Jreet, if you are trying to suggest you are my superior in any way,” the Huouyt said softly, “you are sadly mistaken.”

  Daviin cocked his head. “Your name is not Be’shaar. I recognize the name from my training. Your voice does not match.” Then he laughed. “Too cowardly to give your true name, assassin?”

  Jer’ait scowled at him. “You asked the boy a question. You wanted to know what a raw Ooreiki recruit has in comp
arison to a decorated Human hero, a top Va’gan assassin, and a Voran worm.”

  Daviin slid out of his first coil, intending to introduce his fist to the Huouyt’s innards.

  The young Ooreiki cleared his throat tentatively. In the silence that followed, with Daviin and Jer’ait dueling gazes in ka-par, he said, “I guess I got what they call tunnel instinct.”

  Ka-par instantly broken, Daviin and Jer’ait both whipped their heads around to stare at the Ooreiki, who immediately found the corrugated steel floor at his feet intensely fascinating.

  “Interesting,” Jer’ait said finally. He cast Daviin one last look, then left the room.

  “Coward,” Daviin snorted. He peered at the Ooreiki again. Tunnel instinct. That was as rare amongst Ooreiki as a black Jreet was amongst Vorans. Trying not to look as slack-jawed as he felt, Daviin grunted and returned to his coil.

  “Sir?” the Ooreiki ventured.

  “I am not a sir,” Daviin snapped. “I volunteered. The rank they gave me was arbitrary.”

  “But aren’t you…royalty?”

  Scoffing, Daviin said, “On my planet, the only ones who call others ‘sir’ are slaves and cowards.”

  He might have slapped the Ooreiki, the way Galek flinched. “Sorry si—uh, what do you want me to call you?”

  “Daviin.”

  “Not lord Daviin? Prince Daviin?”

  “No. Daviin.”

  “So who is the Human?” the Ooreiki ventured. “I know why Overseer Phoenix picked Be’shaar and you…but who is he?”

  Daviin made a dismissive grunt. “Some call him Zero.”

  “That Zero?” The pupils of the Ooreiki’s huge, sticky eyes dilated until they were petrified ovals of black. “Prime Commander Zero? From Eeloir?”

  “Or so I’m told,” Daviin said, a little confused by the creature’s reaction. He returned his attention to the pile of Human. “I was not very impressed, myself.”

  The Ooreiki’s sudah were fluttering as if he were about to fly away. “Who else is on our team?” he whispered.

  “I suppose we’ll discover that on Neskfaat.”

  #

  Joe woke with a headache that screamed for aspirin. He sat up and groaned, holding his temples.

  Immediately, a massive red blur moved in front of him. “It wakes.”

  “Are you the bastard that attacked me?” Joe growled through a thick tongue and swollen lip.

  His assailant snorted. “If you consider that an attack, you’re sadly out of your league.”

  Joe frowned, trying to focus his eyes. There was something about the voice he didn’t like. Something that sounded familiar.

  A ruby-scaled, diamond-shaped head solidified in front of him, hard golden eyes peering down at him mercilessly. “Is that better?”

  “Fuck me,” Joe blurted.

  “Are you sure you want that, Human?” The Jreet’s small metallic eyes glittered, the pupils contracting to pinpoints. “Could be painful.”

  Peering up into the ridged, scaly red face, Joe had to laugh. It hurt. He held his side and groaned. “Help me up. I need to get to medical.”

  “You’ll have to wait ‘til we get to Jeelsiht.”

  Joe paused in rubbing his temple. “Get to… Wait. Where am I?” His eyes scanned the tiny space around them and his jaw dropped. “You asher.”

  The Jreet moved closer, his forehead almost touching Joe’s, danger emanating from its golden eyes. “Excuse me?”

  But Joe was furious, now. Beyond fear. “You ghost-burning farmed Takki vaghi! Maggie gave me a choice!”

  “And you chose to accompany us.”

  Joe surged to his feet and the Jreet lifted his big, chest-sized head with him, staying level with his own gaze. They glared at each other, neither so much as blinking.

  “Turn the ship around.”

  “In your dreams, Human.”

  Joe swiveled and yanked open the door to the cockpit, intending to go speak with the captain. A red fist suddenly slammed the door shut, almost wrenching Joe’s arm from its socket. An instant later, a ruby wall barred his path. “You should’ve said something while we were on the shuttle,” the Jreet said, crocodile-like teeth bared. “We’re in deep space now. No way to turn around.”

  Joe was so angry he sputtered. “My brother is going to be killed. A Prime Overseer gave me a choice! I don’t remember anyone asking me!”

  “He asked,” an Ooreiki said solemnly. “Three times. You didn’t say much.”

  Joe whipped around to glare at the Ooreiki, who flinched away from him as if he expected a blow.

  “Who are you?”

  “Grounder Galek, sir,” the Ooreiki whimpered. “Your groundmate.”

  Joe’s eyes caught the rank and he scowled. “A boot? Biggest mission in Congressional history and they send along a boot? When did you graduate, kid?”

  The Ooreiki squirmed under his gaze, his sudah working furiously in his neck. “Last turn.”

  Joe frowned. “And Maggie picked you?”

  “Prime Overseer Phoenix, did, sir.” The Ooreiki looked like he was about to explode with discomfort. His tentacle arms wrapped around each other in anxiety, the four boneless fingers of each hand writhing together in a knotted mass.

  Joe watched the Ooreiki a moment, then grunted. “Then you must be worth your stuff.”

  The Ooreiki tore his gaze from the floor, looking startled.

  Joe shrugged at the young Ooreiki’s shock. “Maggie hates my guts, but she’s the best judge of a soldier I’ve ever seen. It’s how she made Prime Overseer without a single kasja. If she put you here, I’m sure you’re gonna kick Dhasha ass.”

  The Ooreiki’s big, boneless mouth opened and closed in mute surprise.

  Behind him, Joe was suddenly aware of the Jreet watching him. He turned back and prickled, not liking the appraising stare the Jreet was giving him. “You, on the other hand… She’d go for any Jreet, as long as it had scales.”

  The Jreet’s eyes narrowed. “I am Sentinel-trained, Human.”

  Joe flinched. “You’re lying.”

  The Jreet indignantly lifted itself from its bed of coils until he was glowering down at Joe from the ceiling. “A Jreet does not lie.”

  “No, but they’ll kill little kids in the service of a Congressional rebel,” Joe said bitterly, remembering the slaughter on Kophat.

  The Jreet snorted. “Sentinels swear allegiance to a Representative for life. It is understood that oath comes before their oath of citizenship. Not even Aliphei begrudged those Jreet their allegiance to Na’leen.”

  The Jreet had researched enough about him to know his history? Joe found this the biggest surprise yet. “They can’t draft Jreet,” Joe said, looking him up and down. “So why are you here?”

  “Revenge,” the Jreet said. “This Dhasha Vahlin stole my vengeance from me.”

  “You volunteered.” Joe was stunned. The Jreet didn’t volunteer. They became Sentinels or they gathered their clan members and went on raiding parties to kill other Jreet, and Congress left them alone as long as they didn’t bother anyone else.

  “Yes. To kill the Vahlin.”

  “Why?”

  “He killed my enemies.”

  “And that pissed you off.”

  “Immensely.”

  “So you’re gonna what…tunnel crawl with us as a volunteer until we find him?” Joe demanded.

  “Yes.”

  “Someone else might kill the Vahlin, you know.”

  “They won’t.”

  Joe snorted. “I get the shot and I’m taking it, Jreet. Might actually make all this furgsoot worthwhile.”

  The Jreet straightened, his muscled body seething anger. The burgundy tip of the poisoned fang protruded slightly from the Jreet’s chest. “The Vahlin is mine. You are free to kill the pathetic Takki that grovel at his feet, but the Vahlin will be my kill.”

  Joe narrowed his eyes at the Jreet’s threat. He walked up to it and stabbed his finger into the creature’s warm, cream-c
olored underbelly, his finger ninths from the poisoned tek. “I didn’t want to be, but since you didn’t give me a choice, I’m in charge, Jreet. You are under my command, and I’m not letting any insane Jreet vendettas get in the way of our job. If I think Be’shaar or Galek has a better chance of killing the Vahlin, then they will kill him and you will burning watch.”

  A low, rattling growl—the beginnings of the enginelike Jreet battlecry—emanated from the Jreet’s chest. His poisoned fang slipped further from its sheath, until it was almost touching Joe’s chest. Joe could see the muscles and tendons in the limb straining, putting almost six thousand lobes of pressure into a single strike. The slightest release would drive it completely through Joe’s body.

  And even a scratch from the poisonous tip would kill Joe where he stood.

  “The Vahlin is mine,” the Jreet repeated, rising until he had to curl his head against the ceiling. The appendage extruded further, two full joints from its sheath. The tip came to a rest near Joe’s left eye.

  “The Vahlin,” Joe said, reaching up and shoving the poisoned tek out of his face, “Is whoever’s I say he is. I’ve been leading groundteams down tunnels for over fifty turns. My Ops teams have claimed three prince kills—that ties any other ground leader out there, past or present. You’re just a tool, Jreet. A tool that’s useless to me if you don’t do your job. You don’t like it, leave.” His eyes never left the Jreet’s.

  They held each other’s stare for several moments, the Jreet’s anger visibly increasing with every heartbeat. The Jreet made no motion to retract his tek.

  Very quietly, Joe said, “I’ll let the command know of your decision. Perhaps someone else will be stupid enough to take you on their team.”

  The Jreet snorted in complete disdain. “You wouldn’t leave me behind.”

  “I’d do it in a heartbeat.” Joe leaned closer, holding the Jreet’s gaze. “In a goddamn heartbeat. You won’t follow orders, I don’t want you. Even if you are a Jreet.”

  “You’re bluffing,” the Jreet snapped. “We both damn well know I’m worth a thousand of whatever other weaklings you can con into serving on this farce.”