Zero Recall

by Sara King

  “We render them powerless,” Forgotten replied. “The moment Congress found us and gave us ships and mobility, the Trith have been trying to get rid of us. Aliphei used us long enough to create the technologies he wanted, then, with the Trith’s help, locked us away.”

  “Ah. Interesting.” The Huouyt cocked his cylindrical head at him. “I always wondered how they caught you. I suppose it would have been much more difficult to subdue the Geuji without the Trith’s help.”

  It would have been impossible, Forgotten thought bitterly. For that, alone, the Trith deserved to die, the entire species eradicated. Instead of dwelling on things he couldn’t yet change, however, Forgotten said, “What will be even more interesting to me is to see what they do when they realize I’ve chosen another vortex to assist me in this.”

  “Zero.”

  “Yes.”

  Rri’jan’s eyes narrowed and tapped the com unit in his hand. “You know, he was prophesized to help Na’leen and refused, many turns ago on Kophat. He’s why I am here with you today.”

  “Na’leen’s revolt was doomed to fail,” Forgotten replied. “Even if Na’leen had survived, Zero would not have tipped the scales either way. He was just a recruit. Your malice should be laid at the feet of the Trith, who painstakingly guided that little blunder into being because it nudged their chosen future back onto a course they approved of.”

  “Still, it’d please me greatly if he died along the way.”

  “No doubt.”

  Rri’jan held up the com unit he had used to give the order to kill Forgotten’s brethren. Jiggling it, he said, “Do I need to use this again, Forgotten?”

  Forgotten suppressed a rush of irritation at the Huouyt’s threats. “No. I understand your grudge for the Human. However unfounded.”

  “He was prophesized to lead the Huouyt to independence.”

  “Not at all,” Forgotten said. “The Trith left the prophecy they gave to Na’leen about Zero intentionally vague. They never gave a time period, nor a method. Nor, if you examine it carefully, does it specifically say he will lead the Huouyt to independence, just that he will shatter Congress.”

  Rri’jan immediately grew alert. “Then it has truth to it?”

  “Trith always tell the truth in their prophecies. If they didn’t, they would change the future, and would therefore destroy themselves.” Forgotten paused, allowing the Huouyt to contemplate that. “However, because Zero is a vortex, any claims they make on his future are simply guesses, images cobbled together into a picture of what they would like for him to do.”

  “So if he won’t be their puppet, why haven’t they killed him?” Rri’jan demanded.

  “They tried. As they’ve done with me, they contacted his companions. They convinced one of them she needed to kill him, and the other hates him to this day. As soon as they realize I’ve enlisted his help, they’ll make another attempt. That’s why it’s of the utmost importance you do not interfere with Jer’ait. His group is already poised to splinter at the slightest provocation. It has the most potential, but at the same time, the most discord. Even the slightest interference on your part will tip the balance and ruin our plans.”

  “Jer’ait will not die by my hand, Forgotten.”

  “How many times have you tried to have him assassinated, Rri’jan? Six? You must be pleased to know his chances of surviving this endeavor are infinitesimal.”

  “It pleases me greatly.”

  Forgotten was disgusted with the Huouyt’s single-mindedness. “I want your oath you’ll not interfere with your brother. If I don’t get it, my involvement ends here.”

  Rri’jan made a disgusted motion with his free hand. “Why should I care what the filth does, as long as it gets me my position?”

  Immediately, Forgotten said, “Because it burns you to know you might owe your Tribunal seat to the deformed sibling who bested you at everything you’ve ever done except looking pretty.”

  The Huouyt’s body tensed with anger, then he said, “I do not care who helps me get the seat. If Jer’ait survives, I’ll simply kill him afterwards.”

  Forgotten found himself liking the Huouyt less and less, but the struggles between Huouyt royalty were not on his agenda. At least Rri’jan’s greed was enough to keep him from meddling.

  “If you already know which two groups will survive, I don’t understand why we can’t just select the team of your choice and send them against Mekkval tomorrow.”

  “We can’t send them against Mekkval until they’ve veteraned themselves on Neskfaat. Besides, I don’t know. I’ve guessed.”

  “Your guesses are as good as a Trith’s predictions, Geuji.”

  “Still. They are just guesses.”

  “I dislike waiting,” Rri’jan said, tapping the com unit again with a cilia-covered tentacle, obviously considering whether another display of power was necessary, “and your plans grow more time-intensive with every twist.”

  “I’ve told you before,” Forgotten said. “From beginning to end, it will only take one turn. If you cannot wait that long, then you are not suited for the Tribunal.”

  “I can wait,” Rri’jan said coldly. “But if you don’t produce, your life is forfeit.”

  Forgotten laughed and the Huouyt’s white-blue eyes sharpened.

  “You do not believe me?”

  “Rri’jan, if this fails, you will never find me again. If we meet, it will be because I’ve sought you out, not the other way around.”

  “I found you once, Geuji.”

  “Because I wanted you to. I’ve been waiting for you to make me this offer ever since Na’leen died on Kophat. Oh, and you can stop making an imbecile out of yourself by threatening me with that com unit. I scrambled it the moment it came aboard my ship and your messages go nowhere. The confirmations you received were my own words, disguised from samples I maintain on over two and a half trillion different individuals in this sector of space alone. In case you don’t believe me, believe this: Had you really killed a member of my family, you would be back on your flagship right now, and I would be sending out a signal to fry onboard computers on all nearby ships and annihilating your escort down to the last quivering Ueshi mechanic. Then I would seek out every major Ze’laa holding and heir and annihilate them, as well. When I came to kill you, you would be impoverished and enslaved for your family’s debts, probably to a Dhasha. Mekkval generally has a soft spot for rehabilitation cases, and would probably buy your contract and have your zora removed in order to help you properly serve penance, probably with the sentimental conviction that he might be able to, over a few hundred turns, teach one of your kind to have a conscience. Don’t test me, Rri’jan. You have no idea who you are dealing with.”

  For once, the Huouyt’s only response was silence.

  #

  Joe opened his eyes to the biggest headache of his life. It pounded his skull like a Dhasha-powered sledgehammer, raking the backs of his eyeballs, drawing streaks of agony just under his scalp, making his head burn like it was about to catch fire.

  He needed a drink.

  Joe sat up, shaking, his hand automatically reaching into his vest and retrieving his father’s knife for its comforting feel between his fingers as he tried to steady himself. His entire body felt sweaty, feverish. His muscles felt limp and strained at the same time, leaving him on the verge of exhaustion.

  Nearby, a bluish shape lunged up and hurried from the room. Joe peered after it. As his vision focused, he realized the blackness of the place was not a Dhasha tunnel, but the black-on-black of a Congie operating chamber.

  “What...?”

  Speaking hurt. Joe groaned and held his head as he tried to figure out what the hell had happened to him. The horrible feeling of lying helpless, crushed by a thousand lobes of muscle as the Dhasha prince sank its claws into his lungs still burned like acid in his mind, seeming more vivid than the black room around him.

  Joe wasn’t sentimental enough to think he was dead. He was, however, confused. Someon
e had penetrated the deep den and gotten him out alive. Who the hell could even do that?

  Then he knew. Daviin.

  “Commander Zero?” A woman stepped into the room, looking pale and lovely despite the triangular grouping of four circles inside an eight-pointed star that symbolized a Prime Overseer. Her nametag read Daiyu Hong. Though she, like the rest of the Force, had no hair to disrupt her biosuit, her eyes were narrow and a deep, luxurious brown. He guessed she was Chinese.

  “Did the Jreet live?”

  “Yes, Prime Commander. He’s in surgery as we speak.”

  Though he hated it when superior officers spoke to him like they were addressing a deity, Joe felt a stab of relief. “The others?”

  “They all survived.”

  They survived. All of them. Joe could only manage, “How?”

  “We’re not sure.” She hesitated, looking puzzled and anxious. The look in her eyes clearly said, I was hoping you could tell me. Instead of questions, though, she said, “The Jreet’s still in surgery and the Grekkon’s not talking.”

  “What about the Huouyt?”

  “He’s undergoing water therapy. His last pattern almost killed him. The Huouyt medical team wants him to stay submerged for another day or two while his body recovers.”

  “Huh.” Joe groaned and rubbed his temple with one folded end of his knife. “The Baga lived, too?”

  The woman made a face. “Yes, but as soon as he was restored, he disappeared.” She looked particularly agitated at that. “Gave him a direct order to be ready for a debriefing this afternoon and he just vanished. We’re still looking for him.”

  “He’s probably doing reconnaissance.”

  The woman’s bald face wrinkled in worry. She had pretty eyes, Joe thought. Brown, like his, but softer. Softly, she said, “You think the Baga went back to Neskfaat?”

  Joe grunted. “He’s around here somewhere. What about the prince?”

  “The prince and his five oldest heirs are confirmed dead. We buried the rest of them.”

  Looking up sharply, Joe said, “We got all the princes, then?”

  “We got twenty-two of them.”

  Joe closed his eyes. He knew there were more than twenty-two. “How many are left?”

  “A hundred and twelve, as far as we can tell.”

  “Ghosts.” Joe took a deep breath. “How many people we lose?”

  “It’s looking like two and a half million teams.”

  Joe swiveled to stare at Commander Daiyu, unsure he had heard correctly. “That’s all we took in.”

  “Two thousand groundteams survived. Twelve thousand soldiers.”

  Joe felt something strain in his chest. “That’s all?”

  “Your team, on the other hand, was quite successful,” Daiyu said. “Even without help, you took out the top six Dhasha of the den you were assigned. We replayed your unit recordings and it looks as if the Jreet killed three on his own, the Huouyt killed the prince, and the Grekkon killed two more, one with the Jreet’s assistance.”

  Joe frowned as he listened to the litany. “The Grekkon killed one? Alone?”

  “Increased his extrusion rate and dropped down on him from above. Fell straight through him.”

  “Damn.”

  Joe felt the woman’s eyes wander over his body and he gave her a chance to look.

  The Overseer cleared her throat. “Commander, we were hoping you could give us some idea of how you made your group work together. What did you do to make them function as a unit? We’ve had psychologists looking at your file, working on a solution, but I was hoping I could hear it from you.”

  Joe squeezed his eyes shut and wished he had a drink. Carefully, he put his dad’s knife away. “Overseer…” he peered again at her uniform, “Daiyu. You need to go back and look at my file again. Out of anyone on that team, I did the least. They could have done just as well if I’d stayed behind.”

  Daiyu looked taken aback. “You’re saying the Human counterpart means nothing?”

  “Yeah.”

  She blinked at him. “But that’s not possible.”

  Joe peered at her tiredly. More bureaucratic crap, Overseers trying to take more credit than their species deserved. “And why’s that?” he asked, tiredly.

  “Because of the two thousand teams that survived, a quarter of them were led by Humans.”

  #

  Joe went to see Jer’ait first. The Huouyt Overseer of that sector had personally taken charge of his recovery, however, and six armed guards turned Joe away at the door.

  “I don’t give a bag of soot if it’s off limits,” Joe snarled, standing two good arms’-distance from the poison-loving bastards. “I’m his Prime.”

  The six Huouyt at the door regarded him like condescending, electric-eyed statues. “Ko-Jer’ait Ze’laa vehn Morinth is still unconscious,” one of them said with complete disdain.

  “Bullshit. He’s awake. I want to talk to him.”

  “You’ll talk to him later,” the Huouyt replied, musical voice dripping with contempt. “The Overseer is speaking with him now.”

  Joe narrowed his eyes at the casual way the Battlemaster had lied to him. “I want someone to come get me as soon as the Overseer is done with him,” Joe said.

  “Of course.”

  Joe knew the Huouyt had no intention of doing so.

  Discouraged and frustrated, Joe sought out the Jreet.

  Unlike the other grounders to have survived the attack, Daviin did not have an honor guard. In fact, since the Jreet did not partake in the Draft, he did not even have an Overseer to congratulate him on his survival. Daviin was alone in his surgery room, the door unlocked, not a single guard posted outside.

  Joe stepped inside and shut the door softly behind him. Then he whistled at what he saw.

  The Jreet’s body was laid out on his back in a switchback fashion, cream-colored belly facing the ceiling. Hand-sized patches of scales had been shaved completely off, leaving the bluish skin visible underneath.

  The fascinating thing was that the Jreet had been restrained in that position, painful-looking clamps squeezing his flesh and securing him to the floor. The doctors had paid special attention to his upper body. Three heavy-duty titanium bands secured a metal plate over his tek. His enormous arms were each strapped down in two places. The Jreet had been muzzled, his head pinned to the ground.

  Joe noticed the Jreet’s small golden eyes following him as he entered. He went over to Daviin’s head and tugged at the muzzle. It had been locked in place utilizing technology used to restrain kreenit, requiring a special key. Grunting, Joe got up, went over to the operating table, and found a circular saw amongst the other tools. He returned to the Jreet’s head and used the saw to cut through the straps holding his muzzle.

  “So,” Joe said, lowering the saw and tugging the restraint from the Jreet’s head, “I take it you were a little unreasonable?”

  Daviin glared at him.

  “Seriously,” Joe said, gesturing at the bands holding him to the floor. “Is all this really necessary?”

  “The managing doctor was a tekless Ueshi coward. I swore to my ancestors’ souls if he removed my scales, I’d kill him and seek out his spawn to eliminate his sniveling, furgish line.”

  “You must have been very convincing.” Joe motioned at the restraints with the saw.

  Daviin’s yellow eyes could have belonged to an angry raptor.

  “Why haven’t they let you out yet?” Joe asked, gesturing at the scarred patches of skin. “You look healed.”

  “They have the courage of farmed Takki,” Daviin snarled.

  “You mean you threatened them.”

  “I told them the truth.”

  “Which was?”

  Daviin raised his voice indignantly. “As soon as I get out of here, I’m going to hunt down every coward who was in the room when they drugged me and make them dance on my tek before I break every bone in their feeble little bodies.”

  “Huh.”

&nbs
p; Joe got up and replaced the saw on the table. Then he walked to the door.

  “Where are you going?!” Daviin cried behind him.

  Joe turned back and shrugged. “I’ll let you sort it out with them. I’m not gonna be responsible for the deaths of an entire medic team.”

  “You must free me!” Daviin snapped. “The fools plan to send me home!”

  Joe turned folded his arms, curious, now. “They do? Why?”

  “I told you!” Daviin snapped, his muscles constricting against the restraints, for a moment making the straps look as if they would fail before the Jreet relaxed again in frustration. “The doctor was a tekless Ueshi who is terrified of Jreet. I swore an oath to kill him and all his sniveling assistants and all of their worthless spawn.”

  “And you wonder why they left you there.”

  “Curse you to the hells, Human!” Daviin snarled. “A Jreet warrior does not need to have his scales removed for ‘sanitary reasons.’ They were being unreasonable!”

  “And you intend to hunt them down for attempting to spare you an infection later.”

  Daviin hesitated. “I gave my word.”

  “You were drugged,” Joe said. “Unaware of what you were doing.”

  “I was fully aware of what I was doing!” Daviin snapped. “Cowards like that should be executed at birth lest their genes infect the rest of society!”

  Joe uncrossed his arms and turned to leave.

  “But the drugs might have distorted my perceptions,” Daviin added meekly.

  Joe grinned, then wiped it off his face before he turned back to face the Jreet. Deadpan, he said, “But you swore an oath. Now you have to kill them.”

  “I was intoxicated,” Daviin snapped. “I wasn’t in my right mind.”

  “But a Jreet’s honor is his soul.”

  “Let me worry about my honor, miserable Human wretch.”

  “I don’t know…” Joe gave the titanium bands a dubious look. “This might be considered an accessory to murder.”

  “I’m not going to kill the tekless Ueshi worm!” Daviin roared, straining against the restraints. The fist-sized bolts driven into the ebony floor groaned, but held.