by Sara King
“Hmm,” Joe said, pausing to consider. “What about his assistants? I’m not a doctor, but I’m pretty sure it’s the assistants that do the shaving. The doctor just does the cutting.”
“They,” Daviin gritted, “Are safe. From me.”
Joe went to the wall and began going through the Jreet’s chart.
“What are you doing?”
Scrolling through the documents, Joe said, “I’m checking to see if you’ve been medicated within the last few hours.”
“I’m not drugged!”
Joe replaced the chart and squatted down in front of the Jreet. “So this is your oath?” He watched the Jreet, utterly serious, now. “I know Jreet put a lot of stock in their word, and I’d rather let them send you back to Vora than see you slaughter a bunch of guys who were just trying to help.”
“I won’t kill them, Human,” Daviin muttered, sounding miserable. “I swear it.”
Since he didn’t have the key, Joe went back to the table and retrieved the saw. He started at the Jreet’s upper body, sawing through the clamps one by one. He had to change the blade three times before he reached the Jreet’s arms and tek.
“Ghosts of the Mothers,” Joe whistled. “These guys weren’t messing around.”
“They’re tekless Cu’it slaves,” Daviin snarled, straining.
“Bones,” Joe muttered. He lowered the saw and stood.
“What are you doing?” The Jreet gave him an anxious glance.
“I ran out of blades,” Joe said, going to the cupboard and searching for a replacement.
As he was digging through the shelves, the door opened and a startled Ueshi in Congie doctor garb burst in. He was surrounded by six Ooreiki in biosuits carrying full tunnel-crawl weaponry. As soon as they saw the Jreet sitting up in its restraints, the titanium plate no longer secured over its tek, they spread out and dropped into crouches, their rifles aimed at Daviin’s body.
Daviin responded by blinking out of existence.
“Don’t you dare fucking fire goddamn it!” Joe snapped, jumping in front of them. The Ooreiki did not lower their rifles. Their pupils were wide as they stared at the place where Daviin had vanished, their sudah whipping frenzies in their necks. They thought they were going to die. It would have been comical, had Joe not thought they would start spraying the room with plasma at any second.
“You,” Joe said, jabbing a finger at the tiny Ueshi huddled behind the Ooreiki grounders. “You are the doctor?”
“Yes,” the cerulean-skinned physician whispered. He was trembling, his aquamarine headcrest rippling as his binocular blue eyes stared at the place where the Jreet had disappeared.
“Give me the key,” Joe snapped.
That got the doctor’s attention. “Are you insane? He swore to kill me.”
“He’s not gonna kill you,” Joe said. He strode up, caught the black circular chip hanging from a chain around the doctor’s neck and yanked it free. Then he turned back to Daviin.
“I can’t let you do that,” the Ueshi said. “I’m a Jreet Specialist, operated on Sentinels at Koliinaat for thirty turns. That Jreet is a rogue, probably a criminal who survived to this age by avoiding others of his kind. He has no groundteam, no reason to be on Jeelsiht. The last ground leader foolish enough to take him into his team kicked him out and refused to take him back. He’s violent, deranged, uncontrollable—a danger to everyone around him. The only reason he’s still alive is the bureaucrats refused to let us kill him. He threatened to poison me and my medical team innumerable times, and since Congress won’t let us kill him, our only option is to administer pacifying drugs until they can arrange a safe way to transport him.” The Ueshi held up an injection syringe and tapped it.
Joe turned back and frowned at the Ueshi. “You are a Takki slavesoul, aren’t you?”
The Ueshi straightened. “I’m a Specialist of the Medical Corps. Who are you?” He glanced Joe up and down. “For that matter, what are you?”
Joe realized the physicians had dressed him in unranked hospital garb after removing his biosuit. He blinked. It was a wonder they hadn’t shot him already.
“I’m the furg that kicked the Jreet off my groundteam.”
The Ueshi peered at him. “What are you doing here?”
The Ueshi hadn’t connected the dots, but the Ooreiki had. Slowly, they lowered their rifles, their eyes tearing from the empty air where Daviin was and settling on Joe’s face in unabashed awe. Joe blushed and used that moment to walk over to the Jreet.
“Why did you lower your weapons?” the Ueshi demanded. “Stop him!”
Joe swiped the chip over the Jreet’s restraints and Daviin flashed back into existence arching twelve digs in the air, his scarlet and cream magnificence spoiled only by the handful of small blue bald patches where his scales had been shaven.
The Ueshi screamed.
Daviin began to slide toward the doctor, ignoring the Ooreiki completely.
Joe held out a hand to the Jreet’s cream-colored chest, stopping the huge creature momentarily. “You swore,” he said under his breath.
The Jreet flexed his huge ruby fists as he glared at the Ueshi. “I won’t kill him.”
Joe released his groundmate.
When it was apparent that Joe was not going to stop the Jreet, the Ueshi turned and ran.
Daviin lashed out, lightning-fast, tearing the doctor from the ground and holding him off the ground so that the Ueshi’s head-crest trembled against the ceiling.
“You,” Daviin said into the blue-green creature’s small rubbery face, “never tended Sentinels.” Then he dropped the doctor amidst the stunned Ooreiki and pushed through them, to the door.
Joe jogged to keep up. “He didn’t?”
Daviin did not answer him.
“He seemed to know his stuff,” Joe said, still jogging. “They told me you almost lost half your body.”
Daviin glanced back at him, taking a moment to scowl at the Ooreiki who had emerged from the room after them before returning his attention to Joe. “He never tended Sentinels.”
“How do you know?”
“Sentinels don’t require surgery. They either live or they die.”
“Huh.” Joe glanced back at the Ooreiki standing outside the room. The Ueshi had not yet emerged. “Wonder where he learned, then.”
Daviin twisted back to the hall before them. “Where are we? I’ve got a sense of direction like a Takki’s got courage.”
“We’re in the war hospital,” Joe replied. “I think I could get us out, but I still haven’t visited Jer’ait or Galek.”
Daviin turned back to him. “The Huouyt survived?”
“Yeah. His sootbag Overseer’s got Huouyt stationed six deep at his door, keeping everyone out. Probably a good thing, after the first time he went under, but it’s still ridiculous.”
The Jreet flexed an arm that dwarfed Joe’s body, then glanced down at him. “You wish to see him?”
A smile formed on Joe’s face. “I do.”
CHAPTER 18: The Trouble with One’s Peers
“I will not retire.”
The Overseer’s eyes were perfect mirrors as they watched him, making Jer’ait acutely aware of his deformity. “We aren’t giving you a choice. You’ve been out too long, child. You grow too complacent, showing your natural body, of all things. You bring shame to your family and you’re a danger to all Huouyt.”
“They sterilized me. How am I a danger?” Jer’ait managed to keep the bitterness from his voice, but his deformity betrayed him.
The other Huouyt gave him a condescending smile. “We’ve tolerated you until now, child, as you have always kept yourself hidden in a pattern. But now you brazenly flaunt your weakness in the open. You shame us all. You degrade the Huouyt image as a whole.”
“I will not retire.”
The Overseer’s body tightened, but his eyes remained perfect mirrors. “Then you shall disappear.”
Jer’ait sat up, water sloshing around him. “You wouldn
’t be the first to try.”
Overseer Bev’kii gave him a patronizing look, which was ruined somewhat when the Huouyt stepped carefully out of Jer’ait’s reach. “You think you are invincible, child, but how long can you survive here without sustenance? I have guards outside. They will not let you leave.” He lowered his voice, his words oozing with contempt. “Please. Accept your fate gracefully. For all our sakes.”
“I will accept my fate when my remains are returned to Va’ga and laid to rest amongst the heroes of the past.”
“That will never be allowed.”
“It isn’t your decision!” Jer’ait snapped, losing control over his fury. Immediately, he wished he hadn’t. Bev’kii radiated smug satisfaction, his perfect eyes utterly flat.
“Sleep well,” the Overseer said. “While you can.” At that, he turned and left the room.
You furg, Jer’ait thought, slipping back down into his water. What have you done?
He’d declared war on his own kind.
Jer’ait had the urge to climb out of his tank and accept Bev’kii’s offer before his fate was sealed. He’d committed suicide. Not even the greatest assassin Va’ga had produced could fight them all.
And yet, a thread of anger, a tendril of the great fire that had burned inside him ever since he’d watched Rri’jan receive the crown while he was condemned to death and sterilized before a crowd of millions…that anger that had refused to accept their punishment, that had pushed him to escape and be greater than all of them…that anger kept him from conceding. The stubbornness that had kept him alive where he had no right to be, bludgeoning his way through society by his reputation and fear alone, kept him from opening his mouth.
You furg.
Jer’ait stared at the ceiling, calculating when the end would come, wondering how many souls he would take to the grave with him before he faced the inevitable.
Sometime later, a disturbance outside his room made him sit up. Jer’ait was getting out of his tank when the door burst open and a flailing Huouyt was thrown inside, skidding several digs on the floor before coming to a stunned halt a half-dig from Jer’ait’s bath. Jer’ait was still trying to process this when the Huouyt seemingly rose into the air of his own accord and flew out the door with all the speed of a malfunctioning haauk.
Jer’ait grimaced. “I do not need your help, Jreet.”
Daviin appeared, his great length taking up much of the floor space in the center of the room. “Help?” The Jreet looked irritated as he peered through the open door at the Huouyt he had thrown. “Those furgs insulted my parentage.”
Stepping inside to join them, the Human said, “What is it he’s helping you with, Huouyt?”
Jer’ait did not trust the shrewd look in the Human’s eyes. If he did not already suspect Jer’ait’s troubles, he would soon. The last thing he wanted was his pity.
“Go,” Jer’ait said. “I’m not finished resting.”
“Rest is for the weak,” Daviin said. “Come with us. We’re getting food.”
Jer’ait’s system craved sustenance—he’d gone without food for too long. Bev’kii and the other Huouyt had denied him anything but water for two days, and now the need to eat was a dull ache in his zora. Still, though, his pride kept him from accepting. He did not need a Jreet to solve his problems for him.
“That wasn’t a question,” the Jreet said. He lashed out suddenly, grasped Jer’ait by the torso with both enormous arms, and lifted him from the water, sandwiched against the sheath of his tek.
The message was clear. Fight, and things would become unpleasant.
“Put me down, Jreet,” Jer’ait muttered. “I’ll walk.”
Daviin dropped him unceremoniously at the Human’s feet.
“You need some clothes?” Joe asked.
“Clothes are for the weak,” the Jreet said, giving Jer’ait a push.
Jer’ait swiveled, giving his left hand the pattern of a Jreet’s tek. He jammed it into the exposed blue skin of Daviin’s side, then yanked it out again, giving the Jreet an even stare. “Push me again, Takki, and next time I will add something interesting. Now get out. I am not done resting.”
The Jreet stared down at the wound. It was small, oozing only a few drops of blue liquid. Both of them knew, however, that the Jreet would have been dead had Jer’ait wished it.
To Jer’ait’s irritation, the Jreet laughed and clapped an enormous hand on his shoulder. Without regard to the hand still shaped like a tek, the Jreet firmly guided him from the room and out into the hall.
“Food,” the Jreet said, “will improve your attitude.”
It probably would, at that. Jer’ait re-formed his hand and resigned himself to eating with his groundmates.
“Where are you taking that patient?” Overseer Bev’kii demanded from down the hall. He was flanked by eight more Huouyt, all of them armed.
“We’re going to go get some grub,” the Human said. “Don’t worry. We won’t exhaust him.”
“That patient is not leaving the premises.”
Jer’ait watched the Human’s eyes darken, perceptiveness and anger sharpening his features. “This is a hospital, not a brig. If my groundmate wants to share our victory dinner, he will.”
Bev’kii stepped forward, until he was almost touching the Human. They were of a same height, though Bev’kii outweighed Joe by thirty lobes. Bev’kii’s eyes were flat when he said, “You’re the useless Human Prime who spent his time unconscious while his groundteam killed the prince without him.”
To Jer’ait’s surprise, Joe grinned. “That’s me.”
“Allow me to make something clear to you, Human,” Bev’kii said, “It was these two who accomplished that mission. You had nothing to do with it.” Bev’kii’s face spread in a smug smile. “So don’t let the victory get to your head. You didn’t deserve it.”
The Human said nothing for a long time and Jer’ait could feel the Jreet tense behind him. Sweet gods, Jer’ait thought, He says the word and Daviin will slay them all. Jer’ait held his breath, ready to follow Daviin’s lead, should it be necessary.
“I agree.”
For a moment, Jer’ait thought he had not heard correctly. When he turned, however, the Human was simply watching the Overseer.
“I agree on everything but one point. It wasn’t just these two. The other three did their jobs just as well.”
“But you admit you failed.”
Joe laughed. “I spent half the time bleeding internally six digs from our target. Yes, I failed.”
Jer’ait stiffened. “Don’t let him goad you.”
“Yes,” Daviin said, swallowing Joe’s shoulder with a clawed scarlet hand, “Our food awaits.”
“Jer’ait will return to his room,” Bev’kii repeated. “That’s an order.”
“You might want to re-think that order.” The Human said it with a good-natured smile, but there was a hard tone to his words.
At that, the Jreet vanished. The unspoken threat of Daviin’s action hung in the air like the sharp tang of ozone. No one moved.
For several heartbeats, it looked as if there would be blood.
“Very well,” Bev’kii said softly. “I will see you again, Jer’ait, when you do not have a Jreet to protect you.”
“Protect him from what?” Joe said. Damn the meddling Human.
Bev’kii cocked his head at Joe, his mirror-perfect eyes showing nothing. “Jer’ait is to retire. The Huouyt Corps Director commands it. We will be outfitting your groundteam with another Huouyt, one more suitable to the task. I have a meeting with your Overseer in two hours. We’ll inform you of his replacement.”
“Go ahead,” Joe said. “But I’m crawling the tunnels with whoever I damn well please.”
Bev’kii twitched, showing his first hint of irritation. “I don’t believe you understand the scope of this situation, Human. If Jer’ait does not leave for Morinth by tomorrow, he will—”
“Food,” Jer’ait said. “This prattle bores me.” He turned
, trying to draw the Human with him.
Joe did not budge, his eyes never leaving Bev’kii’s. “He’ll what?”
“He’ll face his peers.” Bev’kii bowed slightly, then departed.
Jer’ait did not like the thoughtful look the Human had as he watched them go.
The Jreet found the restaurant for them, happily dragging them inside when he found out it served the disgusting fleshy beasts called melaa at half price.
“They were obviously trying to lure you in here,” Jer’ait said disgustedly as they were seated. “What other creature in the universe has the stomach to eat a melaa?” Even as he said it, the Ueshi running the restaurant were not-so-discreetly taking photographs and vidclips of the enormous Jreet coiled upon their floor.
Daviin did not seem to notice. He was drooling, eying the live pictures of the three different melaa the restaurant housed in their back rooms. He pointed one of them out to the Ueshi proprietor, who immediately bowed its slim blue-green body and scurried away.
“What the hell does that mean, ‘face his peers’?” Joe asked, once their servers had taken their order. “What peers?”
Jer’ait winced, hoping until that point that the Human had forgotten. “It means I’ll have to deal with the consequences of my actions.”
“He means they’ll come to kill him.”
Jer’ait could have killed Daviin for interfering. “Keep your assumptions to yourself, Jreet.”
“Am I wrong?” Daviin challenged. When Jer’ait did not respond, he said, “Your kind is like mine—we do not accept failure. To a Huouyt, deformity is failure, regardless of your talents. Frankly, I am surprised they haven’t tried to kill you before this.”
“They have,” Jer’ait said.
The other two watched him in silence. Jer’ait sensed understanding, and possibly even pity, making the shame within him burn all that more. He studied a scratch in the tabletop.
“We came here to eat,” the Jreet said finally. “Not prattle on about Huouyt politics.”
For once, Jer’ait could have blessed the Jreet’s scaly hide.
Joe said nothing, watching him in silence as the servers brought their meals and placed them in front of them—orange nutrient wafers for Jer’ait, a reddish mass atop a pile of what appeared to be worms for the Human, and a large, dead melaa for the Jreet. It was still bleeding from its blubbery throat.
