by Sara King
“Oh.” Joe seemed to think on that a moment, then said, “So the fact that he can go into creepy inviso-mode and rip this entire hospital apart means nothing at all to you?”
The other Ooreiki said, “We thought he was with you, sir.”
The Human turned back and met Daviin’s gaze with flat disdain. “He’s not.” He continued to look utterly calm, but there was an edge to his voice. “Did you check his tag, men?”
The two Ooreiki babbled a negative.
“Why not?” The Human’s deep brown eyes seemed to be holding back the weight of mountains as they glared up at Daviin.
“He’s a Jreet, sir.” The Ooreiki’s sudah were now fluttering in their necks, betraying their nervousness.
The Human snorted, eyes still holding Daviin’s gaze. “A Jreet turns traitor the moment his ward turns traitor. And when they do, they’re the best enemy we’ll ever get.”
Daviin felt stabbed and vindicated at the same time.
Joe jabbed an arm at Daviin. “Check his tag.”
“I don’t carry a—” Daviin began.
Joe held up a hand, cutting him off. To the Ooreiki, he said, “Check it.”
“C-Commander Zero,” one of the Ooreiki managed, “We’re here to escort you back to the waiting area, not to—”
“You’re here to protect this hospital,” Joe snarled, turning on them. “Check his tag.”
The two Ooreiki seemed frozen in place for a moment under the Prime Commander’s stare. Then, sliding sideways around him, they moved to Daviin, obviously more terrified of the soft-skinned Human than they were of Daviin’s mountain of coils.
Daviin was impressed. He held still as the two petrified guards walked up and quickly ran the scanner over his torso, giving the sheath of his tek a wide berth.
“Nothing, sir.”
“You didn’t check all of him,” Joe said. “Do it again.”
The Ooreiki swallowed hard, looking at Daviin’s seven rods of length. “But that would take—” he cut himself off and swallowed again, hahkta wriggling from the sides of his head. The battlemaster quickly glanced at the floor.
“I’m sorry,” Joe said pleasantly, cocking his head. “Were you about to say it would take too long, Battlemaster?”
“Uh,” the Ooreiki seemed to whimper, “no sir.”
And liars. Congress was filled with liars. Daviin hated liars.
“Then you won’t mind doing a thorough search,” Joe said. “Now.”
The two Ooreiki nervously did, running the instrument up and down Daviin’s length for almost forty tics before giving the negative.
“I don’t—” Daviin began.
“Shut up.” To the Ooreiki, he said, “Check again.”
“But, sir—”
“Check it!” the Human snapped.
The Ooreiki reluctantly did as they were told, this time trembling as they brought the instrument over Daviin’s chest, hovering over the sheath of his tek as if they absurdly thought that touching the flesh there would make it spring out and hit him.
“No tag?” the Human asked once the Ooreiki was finished. “Hmm. Why can’t you find a tag? Any ideas?” Before anyone could respond, he snapped, “Because he doesn’t burning have one, that’s why. And you know what that makes him?”
The Ooreiki shrank under his stare.
“Unauthorized!” Joe roared.
Daviin was impressed at the Human’s vocal range. Every creature in the hall stopped to stare.
“You!” Joe snapped, turning back to Daviin. “Come with me.” He started walking and Daviin uncoiled to follow him.
After three steps, Joe swiveled suddenly and made Daviin run into him, slamming the sheath of his tek against his chest.
Unfazed, Joe’s eyes found the two Ooreiki who were still standing against the wall. “You two Takki slavesouls better the hell escort the both of us out of here properly or when I have my talk with your Prime, I’ll remember names.”
The Ooreiki jumped forth.
“And put a depressor on him. He could raise his energy and go invisible at any second. Who knows who he’s working for? He’d have full run of the hospital and you wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it. Is that what you want?”
“No, sir.” One of the Ooreiki fumbled with the mass of gear strapped to his belt, then stepped in front of Daviin. “Uh, sir?” He held out a black device that looked like a small coin.
“Don’t ask, do it!”
Daviin flinched away from them, his scales tightening against his skin instinctively. Never before had he worn such a device—it was dishonorable, despicable…humiliating. “This is not necessary, Commander.”
“Really?” Joe asked, turning to face him. “Which terrorist network do you work for, Jreet?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Daviin snorted.
“Sure it is. Battlemaster, why aren’t you depressing the Jreet?”
The sudah of the Ooreiki between them began fluttering like wings in his neck and looked like he wanted to flee down the hall, but he was fixed in place under the Human’s merciless stare.
“I’ve taken my oaths to Congress,” Daviin said. “I’m not affiliated with a Representative in any way. I’m a member of your groundteam. I don’t need one of those.”
“You’re not a member of my groundteam.”
The cool, even way the Human said it, it almost sounded as if he were serious.
An excellent bluffer, Daviin decided. “Very well, Human, let’s get this stupidity over with.”
The Ooreiki reached forth with a shaking tentacle, a small black device clasped in his four-fingered hand. He moved to place it on his back, but Daviin straightened, offering his stomach before the fool could place it somewhere he could not reach it. The Ooreiki did not complain, and meekly affixed it to Daviin’s chest, where he could easily swat it away if he had to. Daviin flinched as the device took effect—the sudden, leaden feeling like a thousand lobes of stone had been pried under his scales. He had an instinctive pang of panic that the effect might be permanent before he fought it down.
He gave Joe an irritated look. The depressor was hardly necessary and they both knew it. However, he left it where it was, enduring the deprivation of his ability to leave the visible spectrum with as much grace as he could muster.
But Joe had crossed his arms, having observed Daviin’s maneuvering. “Just what kind of Takki foodyard is your Overseer running here? You let the Jreet manipulate you into putting it on his stomach. He could fling that thing off him in a second. You stupid jenfurglings, put it on his back, between his shoulder blades, where his arms won’t reach.”
Daviin stiffened. “I’m not going to remove it.”
“But you can remove it, can’t you?” Joe growled. “Now get on the ground and let them place it properly. You’re lucky they don’t shoot you for being a sneaky Cu’it.”
Daviin narrowed his eyes, but complied. The momentary relief as the Ooreiki took the depressor from his stomach was immediately ruined by its even more deeply unnerving presence in the unreachable area between his shoulders. Daviin spent the rest of the trip out of the hospital glaring at the Human’s back, wondering what it would be like to make the fool dance on his tek.
Outside, once the Ooreiki had removed the depressor and left the two of them alone in the waiting area, Daviin growled, “Was that fun, Human?”
Joe rounded on him and jammed a finger back at the hospital. “Fun?! Those sootwads back there are in charge of some of Congress’s most sensitive equipment—stuff they’re gonna give the rest of us full brain-wipes for, just for being near it, and they let just anyone waltz around back there like they own the place.”
“A seven-rod Jreet is hardly just anyone.”
“It’s the principle,” Joe snapped. “They lack discipline. This planet is the staging area for Neskfaat, for the Mothers’ sakes. Biggest goddamn war we’ve ever seen and one smart sonofabitch leading them, and our guys go and leave all of Congress’s goodies out in the open for anybod
y who wants to walk in and take ‘em. The whole lot of them should be shot. It’s incompetent furgling dumbasses like that who get grounders sent to their deaths in the first place.”
Daviin stared at the Human. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Joe looked him up and down. “I know why you were waiting for me. My answer is no.”
Daviin blinked. “What answer?”
“I’m not bringing you back.” Joe turned to go.
Daviin’s arm shot out, catching his shoulder. The Human paused and glanced at his shoulder before giving Daviin a dark look. Daviin quickly released it.
“You need me,” Daviin said, trying to instill some logic into the situation. “I’m the only one who stands a chance against a Dhasha in hand-to-hand combat.”
“We’ll make do without you.”
Daviin stared at the Human, stunned. It almost sounded like…he was serious. “You’re turning me down? Truly?”
“I’m not taking on someone who’s got no respect for authority.” The Human turned to go again.
“I respect authority,” Daviin snapped, his irritation returning. “If this is about my attack, I did it after you discharged me. It should have no bearing on this conversation.”
“It doesn’t,” Joe said. “I’d made my decision long before you busted me up.”
Daviin felt himself losing his grip on his fury once more. “If this isn’t about your pride, Human, what is it about?”
“You’re a volunteer.” The Human seemed to recognize his anger, and was disdainful of it. “Volunteers don’t follow orders unless they feel like it.”
“I trained as a Sentinel.” Daviin hated the way it sounded like begging.
“This is Planetary Ops,” Joe said. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about the Sentinels.”
Daviin’s body coiled behind him in frustration. “If you had any idea how hard the training was—”
“I don’t care how hard it was,” the Human snapped. “What I care about is you following orders—my orders. Right now, if you got half a chance, you’d leave the rest of us stranded while you went after the Vahlin. That’s fine, but you sure as hell aren’t going to do it on my team. I’ve already put the order in. It’s final. Cannot be undone.”
Daviin felt a sinking in his gut, the same kind of sinking he felt as a Sentinel when he failed in his training. He stared at the Human, stunned the creature could make him feel that way. The Human stared back, his brown eyes unwavering.
Beda’s bones… Daviin realized he’d made a mistake.
“So, where’s the rest of my team?” the Human demanded.
“The barracks.” The words slipped from Daviin’s lips on a wave of misery.
The Human grunted. “What other useless jenfurglings did I get stuck with?”
“A Baga and a Grekkon.”
“Bones.” The Human cursed and glanced at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and took several long breaths. “Goddamn it, Mag.”
“What?”
“She’s playing with me,” Joe said. “A Baga’s the most annoying, uncontrollable, smart little creep you’ll ever see. And dangerous as hell. Maggie’s doing it to torment me.”
“Who is this Maggie?” Daviin said. “Do you want her killed?”
Joe laughed. “I wish.” Then he frowned. “And no, you will not buy your way back into the group by killing my enemies.”
Damn.
Joe sighed again. “A Baga? You serious? Who’s with it?”
“Galek,” Daviin said. “I’m not sure about the Huouyt. He doesn’t tend to stay with the group.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Joe looked as if Daviin had just told him the Ooreiki was dining with a Dhasha. “You sent Galek in there? Alone? With a Baga?”
“I sent no one, Human,” Daviin said, confused. “He went on his own. Wanted to welcome our newcomers. What difference does it make?”
Joe made a disgusted sound. Without waiting for him, the Human strode quickly from the hospital, his pace almost more than Daviin could meet. As if he didn’t even notice Daviin following him, the Human took a shuttle to the barracks. Daviin shadowed him in silence, his mind working. The Human was not what he expected. His first impression of a drunken fool had been wrong. In another life, he could have been born a Jreet.
The Human turned on him suddenly. “Why are you still following me?”
“I want to be on your team.”
“No. Begging will not change my mind.” The Human kept walking.
Daviin followed, his fists clenching in frustration. “I made a mistake.”
“Yep.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Is that what you’d say to the Sentinels, Jreet?”
Daviin felt shame descend upon him in a sickly shroud. “No.”
“Then don’t say it to me.” The Human did not stop walking.
Daviin lowered his head and followed. He knew he should have salvaged his pride and searched for another group to descend after the Dhasha, but his gut told him this was the group he wanted.
They entered the barracks to the sounds of Ooreiki screaming.
Joe broke into a run, leaving Daviin behind.
When Daviin caught up, he had to bodily push a crowd of black-clad Congie gawkers out of the way to even reach the room.
Inside, Joe had a gun in his hand, the weapon charged and ready, his finger on the trigger. He was aiming at something over Daviin’s head.
CHAPTER 9: Of Bagans and Booze
“Give it back, you little janja pile.” Joe aimed the gun at the football-sized alien’s head.
“Why?” the Baga demanded in startlingly good Congie from its insect-like head. “The counter can grow a new one.”
“That isn’t the point, is it?” Joe demanded. “Put it down. Now.”
The Baga buzzed its wings at him in a sign of disdain. “We both know you fire that weapon and you’re in the brig for the next three turns. This is a non-discharge area, Human, and your threats are worthless.”
“I haven’t threatened you, sootwad,” Joe growled. “You’ll feel it when I do.”
The elegant green, humming-bird creature let out a vibrating, contemptuous laugh and spat a gob of grayish slime at him from its tubelike ass. Joe dodged it, but just barely. Goosebumps sprang up on his arms as he watched the stuff solidify on the floor. Had it touched his skin, Joe would have had to cut it off with a laser, taking a ninth of skin and muscle with it.
“There’s something you should know,” Joe said, as calmly as he could, watching the alien glue fuse to the floor. Become the floor.
“Oh?” the Baga asked, holding up the still-wriggling Ooreiki tentacle and calmly snipping one of the four writhing fingers from the end with its razor beak. “And what’s that, counter?”
Joe refused to allow his eyes to follow the finger to the ground as the Baga wanted, so he could glue him again. Smart little bastard, Joe thought, despite himself.
“You should know that I’m sixty-six turns old.”
The Baga snipped another finger from the Ooreiki’s arm, leaving two intact. “And why the crack should that matter to me, Human?”
“Because it means I’m too old to deal with little pricks like you.” Joe popped the canister from his borrowed pistol and, as the Baga watched him in confusion, threw the gun.
It hit the Baga square-on, crushing the glittering green creature to the wall like a wayward spider. Its tiny clawlike feet released Galek’s arm and the severed appendage fell to the ground, still wriggling. The Baga followed it down, landing in a glittering, stunned heap.
Joe walked up and stomped on the creature’s tubular rear snout, effectively cutting off its spit supply. The Baga’s beak, situated on the opposite end of its body, opened and it let out a high-pitched, almost supersonic scream. In the hall outside, the Jreet groaned and put his huge scarlet hands over the cavernous audial chambers taking up most of his skull. “Seventh hell, make it stop!” Daviin shouted. “Beda’s bones! Kill it
already…”
Ignoring the Jreet, Joe squatted in front of the Baga, peering into its faceted red eyes. “Listen very carefully. I’m a Prime. I’ve got fifty-five turns in service. One of my groundmates turns up missing, I get a slap on the wrist, no big deal. It happens. You, on the other hand, are a sootwad Squad Leader who’s never seen real battle. You disappear and they’d maybe make me fill out a couple forms, maybe not. You with me so far?”
When the Baga simply stared up at him with baleful, faceted red eyes, Joe ground the tubular snout with the toe of his boot. It screeched again and nodded.
“Good,” Joe said. “So I hope you’ll take me seriously when I tell you there’s very few things in this life I hate more than a Baga. One of them’s Huouyt, and the fact I’m gonna be working with both of you on this mission puts me in a very bad mood. One of you will probably push me over the edge before this is all over with, and frankly, since the Huouyt isn’t stupid, I’m guessing it’s going to be you.”
The Baga watched him with unconcealed malice.
Joe leaned closer. “In case you’ve got some grand scheme to spit in my eyes once I let you up, I’ve got news for you. I spent two turns keeping the peace on Neen. I’ve seen it all, you little furg, and I’ll make you regret it. But, since I know you charheads don’t learn the first time, I’ll give you two attempts. The first time, I’ll break every bone in your body. The second time, I’ll tear off your wings, cut off your spitter and feed them to you. Got me?”
The Baga watched him balefully behind ruby facets.
Joe let the Baga up.
The Baga pulled itself to its feet. It checked the damage Joe had done and, finding none, nodded solemnly. Then it spat.
Recognizing the pulsing motion in the creature’s glands, Joe was ready for it. He twisted out of the way as the gray substance shot across the room to solidify on the wall. Then, with the heel of his boot, smashed the Baga into the ground. Even as the creature screamed and dragged its abdomen around to try and soak his boot, Joe brought his other foot down, crushing the lower half of its body.
He left the head intact. The Baga, like cockroaches, were almost impossible to kill. He proceeded to stomp and crush every moving part, every joint save the head. Then, once he was finished, he glanced up at the room.
