Zero Recall

by Sara King

  Daviin immediately clasped his bloody fist shut. “I was in a fight.”

  “Oh?” the Huouyt asked, amused. “And where was the Dhasha?”

  Daviin frowned. “What?”

  Lazily, Jer’ait left the doorway and walked over to him. He took Daviin’s palm and, when Daviin tried to flinch away, Daviin felt a tiny sting as the Huouyt injected a poison under his skin of his arm.

  Fear warred with anger as he suddenly found himself helpless to resist as the Huouyt casually opened his palm and peered down at his cut with his unnatural, bi-colored eyes. He drugged me, Daviin thought, enraged. I, a Sentinel, allowed a Va’gan to drug me! The shame was overwhelming.

  “Ah,” Jer’ait said, as he examined his palm. “So my eyes did not deceive me. There are only two things that can cut through scales like this. A Dhasha’s claws and a ceremonial ovi knife.”

  Jer’ait dropped Daviin’s hand and looked up at him, smugness stretched across his downy alien features. “We both know what an ovi is used for. And we both know there isn’t a single Dhasha on Jeelsiht. Did you really want to be on the team that badly, Jreet? Which politician did you swear to, to get the assignment?”

  Daviin said nothing, seething. It was everything he could do just to squeeze his fingers back together and hide the wound. The Huouyt could kill him at will, and both of them knew it.

  “You can speak, you know,” Jer’ait said, obviously amused. “The poison does not inhibit linguistic capabilities.”

  Daviin merely watched him.

  Jer’ait sighed. “Very well.” He calmly touched Daviin once more, freeing him.

  Daviin slammed his fist into the side of the Huouyt’s head, knocking him to the floor. “I should make you dance on my tek, Huouyt.”

  Slowly, the assassin picked himself up. He had an open cut from one of Daviin’s claws, but it mended as Daviin watched him. “You know, I have killed for much less.”

  “As have I,” Daviin snapped.

  Jer’ait cocked his kreenit-penis head at Daviin. “Fair enough,” the Huouyt said. “Where’d you get the cut?”

  Daviin begged forgiveness from the Ayhi, then lied. “There’s another Jreet on Jeelsiht. Welu. He and I had an argument.”

  The Huouyt watched him, then slowly his eyes moved to Joe. “And the Human?”

  “Tried to separate us.”

  The Huouyt cocked his head. “You escaped, so somehow you must have killed this Welu. Shall I check the report?”

  “I didn’t kill him, but go ahead.”

  Jer’ait went to the wall and scanned the files he found there. Slowly, he turned back, a look of confusion on his face. “Huh. I thought…”

  “It was a furgish idea,” Daviin snapped. “For you to suggest I would ever take a ward to get on this Takki’s groundteam, it makes it harder and harder for me to find reasons not to kill you.”

  Jer’ait gave him an amused look and bowed. “Then I shall not push my luck.” He cast one last look at the Human and departed. When he reached the door, however, he stopped and turned back. “Just out of curiosity, he didn’t let you back on the team, did he?”

  “No,” Joe groaned from his bed. “Get the asher out of here.”

  Jer’ait gave the Human an amused glance. “I think I’ll leave that task to someone more capable than myself, Commander. Good to see you did not crack like a piji shell to his whining.”

  Daviin stiffened, but the Huouyt turned and left. Daviin immediately went to the door and locked it behind him.

  “So,” Joe said, sitting up, “I thought Jreet did not lie, Daviin.”

  “I’m sure I will burn in several layers of hell for it,” Daviin muttered. “But you gave me an order not to let others know. I hope it was worth it for you, Human.”

  “It was. Answer something for me, Daviin.”

  “What?”

  “Why did Jer’ait drop it? Did you kill a Welu in between shattering my spine and swearing fealty to me?”

  “We had an argument,” Daviin admitted reluctantly. “Broke a few houses.”

  “And you won?”

  “Of course I won!” Daviin snapped. “It was a Welu!”

  “But you didn’t kill him.” The Human sounded…intrigued.

  “He did not have Sentinel training,” Daviin gritted. “It was not a contest.”

  “You let him live.”

  “If it can be called that,” Daviin snorted. “The poor little furg will go home in disgrace. One of his older brothers will probably come for me later, to reap vengeance from my hide. Him, I’ll have to kill.”

  Joe rubbed the sides of his head with his soft fingertips. “Damn Jreet vendettas. Why’d you start the fight in the first place if you knew it wasn’t a contest?”

  “I didn’t. The little Welu furg attacked me on my way to find you.”

  Joe peered at him. “Is this going to be a common thing?”

  “Depends. There are five other Jreet on Jeelsiht. All Welu. They will attack me on sight, and I them. Congress knows this, so they tried to put us in different staging areas. The Welu was on leave with his groundteam when he saw me.”

  “So why don’t they just post your locations so you can avoid each other?”

  Daviin stared at the Human, wondering if he was simple. “That would give us the obligation to seek each other out. They hide it from us intentionally.”

  “Ghosts.” Joe gave an unhappy laugh and said, “How do you guys survive as a species?”

  “It is hard,” Daviin admitted. “Mortality rates are high, especially amongst youngsters. We gain one, maybe two thousand a turn. That was before Aez.”

  “One or two thousand?” the Human cried. “For your whole species?”

  “A Jreet’s life is hard,” Daviin replied. “At least up until you get to be my age.”

  The Human peered up at him. “And just how old are you?”

  “Almost a thousand, now.”

  His ward whistled. “I thought you were a little bigger than normal.”

  “Not at all. We have histories of normal Jreet reaching up to sixty-three rods. The black ones often get bigger.”

  The Human’s eyes widened. “Ghosts of the Mothers. I’m not even a rod. I’m like two thirds of a rod, Daviin.”

  “You’re a weakling.”

  He said it in all honesty, but the Human narrowed his eyes. “Sixty-three. That’s what, nine of you?”

  “Approximately,” Daviin said, shrugging. “The breeders grow very large, once they swear off war and give up their teks. But nobody really counts them because they’re forbidden to fight. Warrior-wise, I am about half the length of the biggest recorded Jreet with a tek. The Aezi representative, Prazeil—may he endure every level of the coldest hells—is very close to thirteen rods.”

  “Huge.”

  “To a Human.”

  “Huh.” The Human sighed and stood. “We might as well come up with a convincing way for you to crack my stubborn piji shell.”

  #

  “Are you sure, Geuji? The last time a Jreet decided to Sentinel to a non-Representative, it was the Age of the Jahul.”

  “The Jreet will do it,” Forgotten replied. “It will be the only way he can change the Human’s mind and therefore rejoin the team.”

  “We need a Jreet,” Rri’jan argued, visibly losing his composure. “And you are betting everything he will swear himself to an inconsequential alien grounder.”

  “I would not call him inconsequential.” Forgotten took a fraction of a nanosecond to monitor Syuri’s life-signs, to make sure the poor Jahul wasn’t suffocating.

  “And if you’re wrong?” Rri’jan snapped.

  “I tire of that question, Huouyt,” Forgotten said, deciding that the trapped Jahul was highly upset, but not dying. “Until some part of my plan fails, please try to refrain from asking it.”

  “Don’t be flippant with me, Geuji. I decide whether you will ever see your people alive again.”

  “I’m aware of your inclinations to th
at effect.”

  “Yes, but do you really understand?” Rri’jan watched him. “No. I don’t think you do.” He reached for the com unit attached to his cloth-of-silver cape.

  “Don’t,” Forgotten said. “I know what you’re going to do, Rri’jan. You have no need to prove it to me.”

  “Oh, I think I do.” Rri’jan activated the unit. “Cha’vai, kill one of the Geuji. The oldest.”

  Forgotten felt a flood of anger at Rri’jan’s words. It had been so easy. So easy for the Huouyt to give the order to end the greatest mind in the known universe. Such petty ignorance sickened him to the core. Forcing himself to keep his voice in check, Forgotten said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “You needed to fully understand who is in charge here, Geuji,” Rri’jan said. “Now you do.”

  “Believe me, Rri’jan, I understand who is in charge.”

  Rri’jan scanned Forgotten again, then once more activated his com unit. “Kill another one. The youngest.”

  “Stop!” Forgotten snapped. “You have my attention.”

  “I’m not as stupid as you believe,” Rri’jan said. “My species is known for its intelligence.”

  “Your species is known for its conscious cruelty.”

  Rri’jan tapped the com unit. “You should learn to think before you speak, Geuji. It would serve your people well in the future.” Then he cocked his head, enlightenment suddenly crossing his face. “Unless you are thinking about what you’re saying and are intentionally provoking me. Now why would you want to do that, Forgotten? I was under the impression we’d agreed upon a mutually beneficial business arrangement.”

  “We have an arrangement,” Forgotten said. “It’s you who’s breaking the terms of that contract.”

  “The terms of the contract are that I free your people once gaining the Tribunal,” Rri’jan replied coolly. “It says nothing about killing them to discipline you.”

  “You are treading dangerous ground, Rri’jan,” Forgotten said, feeling himself despising the creature sharing air with him.

  “Not really. I don’t stand to lose anything if we fail.” He tapped the com unit again. “Now tell me more about this plan of yours. Why do we sic my esteemed brother on this Human?”

  “How else would I get the top assassin in the universe to join a common groundteam for the purpose of killing Dhasha?”

  Rri’jan pointed the com unit at Forgotten. “Excellent point. But that leaves another question. Va’gans do not allow themselves to be put under anesthesia in any way. Just how do you plan on making Jer’ait get a grounder’s chip?”

  “I won’t. The Human will.”

  Rri’jan snorted. “How?” He obviously thought it was impossible.

  “With his winning personality.”

  Rri’jan tapped the com unit against his cilia-covered cheek, then said, “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you meant that literally.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So tell me,” Rri’jan said. “Why do you put so much faith in this Human?”

  “He’s like me,” Forgotten said.

  Rri’jan laughed. “Oh? An immobile blob of mucous?”

  Forgotten ignored the insult. “He’s what’s called a vortex. The Trith cannot see his future, so they attempt to make it for him. He’s fought them every step of the way.”

  “And how does this remind you of you?”

  “The last Trith that visited me, I killed and ejected into space.”

  That wiped the smirk off of Rri’jan’s face. “You’ve killed a Trith?”

  “Several of them. It took them a while to realize why their fellows were going missing.”

  Rri’jan looked…more subdued…than usual. “And this Human…he could also kill a Trith?”

  “Yes. And he probably will, if he’s ever visited again. I think they learned their lesson from me, though. They’ll visit those around him, try to alter his path that way. A much safer alternative. Especially now, when they see our paths have crossed. That will cause them no end of anxiety, which pleases me very much.”

  Rri’jan’s eyes glittered. “I assume it would. So tell me, Geuji. You’ve put together this perfect team, going to elaborate lengths to get just the right members, yet you continue to act as if the results of your little experiment are uncertain. What makes you think the Dhasha will give your brainchild any problems?”

  “That’s simple,” Forgotten said, “The Dhasha will be expecting them.”

  CHAPTER 12: To Chip or Not to Chip

  “You forced Daviin from our groundteam.” Jer’ait watched the Human closely, wondering if he was a fool or something worse. “It was amusing for a while, but you’re actually serious, aren’t you?”

  “He didn’t want to follow orders,” their Prime told him dismissively.

  Jer’ait gave his target a long look. “Did you make this decision before or after he broke every bone in your body, Commander?”

  A glimmer of irritation showed in the Human’s face. “The Jreet is out. No discussion.”

  Jer’ait glanced at the other three members of their team. The Baga sat in a corner, watching the Human with unwavering curiosity. To Jer’ait’s surprise, he had not only survived Joe’s assault, but he seemed to find their Prime’s attack to be nothing out of the ordinary. Further, Jer’ait had heard the Baga actually use the word ‘sir’ to the Human, earlier that day. Behind him, the Ooreiki was staring at the floor, trying desperately not to be noticed and therefore not to be called on to take sides. The Grekkon seemed oblivious to or unconcerned with the conversation, or both.

  “You expect the five of us to kill a Dhasha prince, wading through possibly hundreds of his underlings to get to him, without a Jreet?” Jer’ait finally demanded.

  The Human’s small brown eyes found him and he gave him a grin. “Think of it as putting your skills to the test, Huouyt.”

  “I think of it as suicide,” Jer’ait retorted. “They will not allow us to use explosives. That leaves hand-to-hand combat. Only a Jreet can kill a Dhasha in hand-to-hand combat.”

  “Then I suppose we’d all better pack up and go home, because there’s only six Jreet on this whole planet.”

  Jer’ait stared at him. “Only six?”

  “That’s right,” the Human said. “I checked. Six Jreet against a hundred and thirty-four Dhasha princes, plus a carrier-load of followers and young. If we’re gonna win this thing, we’re gonna have to come up with some brand-new ideas or we’re all gonna die.”

  “You gave up one of the six Jreet on the entire planet because he bruised your pride.” Jer’ait knew right then that the message was a Trith’s cruel joke. As soon as this moron took them down the tunnels, they would all die.

  “He wouldn’t follow orders,” the Human repeated.

  “He’s Sentinel-trained,” Jer’ait snapped. “He shouldn’t follow the orders of a soft-skulled Takki imbecile. Had Phoenix been in her right mind, Daviin would have led this group, not some weak, inebriated clown.”

  “I’ll give you the same choice I gave the Jreet,” the Human said, his tone going as cold as a Va’gan’s. “Follow orders or I’ll transfer you.”

  Jer’ait laughed. “You would go down the tunnels with four.”

  “Damn right, I would. In a heartbeat.”

  From where he sat, Galek looked up nervously, but he said nothing.

  Jer’ait wondered if the Human had destroyed brain-cells with his sipping of toxins. “The Jreet and I are your two best chances of killing something down there,” he said. “If I leave, you will have nothing.”

  “If you leave, I’ll have more than I started with,” Commander Zero said.

  Jer’ait examined their leader and saw what the Jreet hadn’t—the Human was deadly serious. Jer’ait could almost admire him, the way he could meet the gaze of a Va’ga assassin without flinching.

  “Very well,” he said softly. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Flea, get over here.” �
�Flea’ was an earth name that the Human had attached to the Baga the moment it returned from medical. The Baga had liked the sound of it, especially after Jer’ait had explained that a flea was a nuisance insect from Earth. Jer’ait wondered if the Baga was quite sane.

  The Baga dropped onto Joe’s shoulder, his entire body about the size of Joe’s head. If the Human had any nervousness due to the proximity of the Baga’s spitter, he did not show it.

  “Flea, you’ll be working with Be’shaar. You two are on recon. Be’shaar, go to the morgue and start picking through the bodies. Grab whatever patterns you think you’ll need.”

  Immediately, Jer’ait felt every one of his breja stiffen. “Huouyt of my sect do not use patterns off of dead we did not kill ourselves.”

  The Human grunted. “That’s right. Forgot some of you are superstitious about that.”

  “I will find another source,” Jer’ait replied, trying not to sound as irritated as he felt.

  “Good. Flea, you’re too damn colorful. I want you as black as a Draak turd by the end of the day. You and the Huouyt will need to be in constant contact with each other, so you each get a chip—I’m told you already got yours, so that just leaves Be’shaar.”

  Jer’ait stiffened. “I told you Va’gans do not undergo operations of any kind.”

  “You do now,” the Human said brusquely. “Galek, you and I will be the middlemen. It’ll be our job to protect Scarab from whatever they throw at us. He’s our lifeline—the only thing getting us out of there should something go wrong. He won’t be doing any fighting.”

  ‘Scarab’ was another nickname, one the Human had given after trying to pronounce the Grekkon’s name three times and failing. Though he usually detested monikers, Jer’ait had to admit that it was easier, and the Grekkon didn’t seem to mind.

  As a matter of fact, the Grekkon didn’t seem to mind anything. Though it was fully equipped with an artificial voicebox and a chip, it hadn’t said more than its name since it had been introduced.

  Jer’ait’s breja rippled across his body in waves as he listened to the Human outline their plan. It didn’t sound like a bad plan…except for the fact he expected Jer’ait to submit to an Ooreiki’s scalpel. Finally, he could stay silent no more.