Zero Recall

by Sara King

  “Perhaps you didn’t understand me,” Jer’ait said softly, lapsing back into his flat, Va’ga-trained voice. “By now you know my name is Jer’ait Ze’laa. If Zero dies, you won’t live to see your Corps Directorship.”

  “You’re threatening me? Stuck on an enemy planet?” Phoenix laughed.

  “Yes.”

  There was a long, horrible pause.

  Then, “Give your threats to someone who cares.”

  Jer’ait was flushing with rage when another Human voice cut in, “Burn that. This is Rat. A shuttle’s on its way.”

  #

  Somehow, Joe lived.

  Daviin watched the entire process, watched him die three times on the table, watched them bring him back to life. Watched the other Human sit down and offer up her fluids to keep him alive.

  The Ueshi doctor who had stapled Daviin to the floor was in charge throughout, conducting a stampede of medics with the confident beauty of a Sentinel war-dance.

  A dozen hours passed with no improvement, and once an Ooreiki doctor threw down his instruments and told them they were wasting their time.

  Daviin picked him up and heaved him from the room.

  Three days went on, and the surgeries continued with only brief, unhappy breaks in between. The Human would not stabilize. The female returned twice, to offer up more fluids. The third time, the Ueshi sent her back to her groundteam on a stretcher, her face pale, her fingers trembling.

  More than once, the Human woke just long enough to scream before settling back into oblivion. Perhaps he’d never left it.

  It was his heart stopping that worried Daviin. It had been punctured during the Dhasha’s assault. Shredded. The surgeons had tried to fuse and graft it back together, but the shredded muscles refused to beat as one.

  His lungs, too, were refusing to work. They were deflated lumps, neither able to support themselves despite everything the Ueshi did to repair them.

  His liver had been removed—that which had remained, anyway. The Human’s intestines were all but gone. Even now, the Human was living off machines, his fluids filtered, his breathing forced, his heart prodded.

  The doctors didn’t have enough time to culture him the organs he needed. They needed another week.

  Hold on, Daviin thought, willing him to stay alive until they could give him a transplant. You can do this.

  If he felt Daviin’s need for him to live, Joe never showed any change. The skin that remained was black and yellow, one massive, ugly bruise. He was still missing an arm.

  Jer’ait came to Daviin during one of the quiet periods between operations. “I found him.”

  Daviin swiveled. “Where?”

  “Call the Ueshi,” Jer’ait said. “Tonight Joe will live.”

  #

  Jer’ait knew only one Huouyt who would have had the rank to get himself chipped as Galek. Gra’fei. Eleventh Hjai. Yua’nev’s other assassin.

  “Let me take him,” Jer’ait said. “No arguments this time, Jreet. If things don’t go exactly right, we’ll fail. You know what that means.”

  Beside him, Daviin nodded grimly.

  “Good. Vanish.” Jer’ait pushed three more arms from his borrowed Ooreiki torso and entered the bar.

  His target sat in one corner, sipping a drink, waiting for his shuttle to arrive to carry him back to Levren. He was watching an Ueshi dancer undulate in the center of the room, thus his eyes were elsewhere when Jer’ait touched him on the shoulder. And on the chest. And the face. And the leg. And the back.

  “So nice to see you again, Gra’fei.”

  The other Huouyt’s eyes widened as five different poisons entered his system from five different places. Too many to counter. His mouth pressed together in fear as he went limp in his chair.

  “You got it?” Jer’ait asked.

  “Yes.” Daviin uncloaked and handed him a red vial. The Ueshi in the center of the room stopped dancing, staring down at the Jreet’s body where it snaked through the center of the dance floor, only ninths from her feet.

  All eyes in the place fell on them.

  “Good,” Jer’ait said. He pried open Gra’fei’s zora sheath, tilted the other Huouyt’s unresisting head back, unstoppered the vial, and poured it inside.

  Gra’fei’s eyes widened with understanding and fear as his body began to change.

  “Wait for it,” Jer’ait said, as the Huouyt’s breja disappeared and his body grew bony and weak. Then, gently, he reached out and took the other Huouyt by the neck of his Human pattern. He leaned down to speak in Gra’fei’s ear. Softly, he said, “You die for a good cause.” He administered the antidotes and pulled away. “Now, Jreet. Make it count.”

  Even as Gra’fei was beginning to regain some of his motor functions, Daviin struck.

  The ferocity with which the Jreet ripped off the Huouyt’s Human head and tore open his ribcage, then delicately plucked out the desired organs left Jer’ait with a professional respect.

  Then, with great disdain, Daviin flipped the bleeding carcass aside and twisted around to make his departure, the organs held out in front of him like great war trophies, intestines looped around his wrist like a gruesome bracelet. Jer’ait followed, pulling his three extra arms back into his torso as he went.

  From the bar through the streets, to the halls of the hospital, every alien in their path got out of the way.

  “Here,” Daviin said, once they were back in the operating room. He thrust his prizes out for the Ueshi to inspect. The Ueshi stared.

  “The heart’s still beating,” Daviin offered, sounding nervous. “You said fresh was best.”

  “It’s…good,” the Ueshi said. “Fresh.” He seemed to regain his composure and nodded for Jer’ait to close the door. “Let’s get to work.”

  As the operation began, the Jreet hovered like a nervous hen. Jer’ait had to refrain from doing the same. Something about the Human made him stupid…and he thought he finally understood what it was. “Sentinel,” Jer’ait said gruffly, reaching into his pocket.

  “Shhh, they’re connecting the arteries.” Daviin was hunched over the operating table, and not one of the doctors had the zora to tell him to leave.

  “Worm.”

  Daviin’s tiny golden eyes narrowed and he swiveled his massive head. Jer’ait held out Joe’s knife. “Take it. I can’t stay to give it to him.”

  “Joe’s knife!” Daviin said, delighted. He took it in an enormous crimson fist with the same delicacy as if he were cradling a precious treasure.

  “It was on the floor of the cavern where they were batting him apart,” Jer’ait said.

  Daviin’s fist closed around the polymer object and Jer’ait had the distinct feeling that it wouldn’t open again until Joe woke. “Why can’t you stay?”

  Jer’ait felt a darkness cross his features as he thought of his peers. “I have other things I must do.”

  Daviin settled his eyes on Jer’ait’s face, and for a moment, they just met each other’s gazes, the Sentinel and the assassin. Despite his density at times, Jer’ait knew Daviin understood what he planned. “I never thought I’d say this,” the Jreet finally said, “but good luck. May you kill a great many with your tricks.”

  Jer’ait smiled, despite himself. “And you, too, Jreet. Someday, if I survive, I’ll invite you to Koliinaat for a drink.” Then, together, they turned back to watch the surgery. Once he saw that the operation would succeed, Jer’ait slid from the room and went to catch Gra’fei’s shuttle to Levren.

  #

  Joe opened his eyes.

  This time, he was pretty sure he was dead.

  He could see no reason why he was still alive. He’d seen pieces of his liver on the ground. He’d seen his arm torn off, his lower torso lying in its own blood. He’d seen the blood.

  Yet when he took a breath, it was of his own accord. He felt his heart beating in his chest. The only thing he couldn’t feel was the fingertips of his right hand.

  Joe struggled to lift his right arm. There w
as something there…it was heavy and he was weak. When he saw it was a perfect Human arm, however, he had to stare. He flexed the fingers, goggling. He had some sensation, he realized, but not what he was used to. He touched the steel edge of the bed with it, found the fingers stiffer, strange.

  Mechanical, Joe realized, a little stunned. And, cradled in the artificial fingers, were the smooth red surfaces of his father’s knife. Joe felt tears burning his eyes and had to look away, tightening his new fingers around the ancient memory.

  It was then that Joe saw Daviin.

  The Jreet was curled beside the bed in an enormous coil, his great bulk blocking the door, effectively cutting off any would-be assassins…or emergency personnel.

  “Hey,” Joe rasped. It was a grating sound, barely above a whisper. Joe swallowed twice and tried again. Not much better. The Jreet never twitched.

  Joe realized Daviin was asleep.

  Grinning, he lay back against the bed and pondered how he had gotten where he was. He was happy to be alive, but he knew he should be dead. No scenario he could imagine in his mind even began to explain how he had gotten where he was. He was grateful, yet perplexed. Several times, he had to sit up just to re-confirm that he was completely whole.

  It didn’t make sense. He knew Congress couldn’t grow specialized tissues that fast. Troubled, Joe stared at the ceiling, wishing Daviin would wake up to talk to him.

  A door slamming impatiently against Daviin’s bulk made Joe twitch. “Out of the way, Jreet,” Rat’s voice commanded. “They told me he just woke up.”

  Joe sat up, propping himself up on his elbows to spare his tender stomach muscles.

  On the floor, Daviin grunted, then started awake. “Joe’s—” When their eyes met, the sheer joy in the Jreet’s crocodile-like face was almost cute.

  The rough way Daviin ripped Joe off the bed, yanking loose IV lines in his haste to squish him against his chest, was not.

  “Goddamn it!” Joe roared. “Get your tek out of my face! Put me back! I need those drugs!”

  Daviin continued to hold him well off the ground. Happily, he said, “A warrior doesn’t need drugs. Welcome back, Joe!”

  “I think you just broke my ribs again,” Joe muttered. Already, the effects of the drugs were beginning to wear off and he was aching from head to toe. “Really, you should put me back.”

  “Nonsense! We go eat!” Daviin set him on the floor and gave him a shove toward the door, post-op nightgown and all.

  “At least let me get dressed,” Joe said. “And I need to ask the doctors if—”

  “Clothes are for the weak,” Daviin said. “And doctors don’t always know what’s best.”

  “They fixed my heart good enough,” Joe said.

  Daviin scoffed. “They didn’t fix your heart.” He pointed to a bloody container sitting on the table beside Joe’s bed. “Just look at it. Like a Takki’s face.”

  Joe’s mouth fell open. “Please tell me that’s not my heart.”

  “Thought you’d want a trophy from all this,” Daviin said, slapping him hard upon the back. “The slavesoul Ueshi doctor called it a biohazard, tried to throw it out. I grabbed it out of the trash.”

  Staring at the multiple chambers and the ragged scars crisscrossing the muscle, Joe felt ill. Then something even more frightening occurred to him. If that’s my heart, what’s that thumping in my chest?

  “It’s your other heart,” a familiar voice said from the door. “Your groundteam harvested it for you. In the middle of Dayut. During happy hour. It was on the news.”

  Joe was suddenly very aware of the woman standing in the door, watching them. She was tall and lean, in boots only a few ninths shorter than Joe in his bare feet.

  “Rat?”

  “She gave fluids,” Daviin said proudly. “Almost killed her, but it kept you alive long enough for us to find you replacement organs.”

  Joe did not like the sound of that. “Replacement? You mean they didn’t grow them for me?”

  “So!” Daviin said, shoving him toward Rat. “You two discussed sex, yes? You can do it while we eat.”

  Joe’s jaw dropped and he twisted, throwing Daviin’s huge hand off his shoulder. “What?!”

  “On Neskfaat, before the last assignment. You spoke of sex.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Not public enough? We can go to the celebration in Dayut. It’s been going on ever since Rat killed the Vahlin.”

  “I didn’t kill the Vahlin,” Rat said.

  Joe frowned at her, then at Daviin, then back at Rat. “Can you believe him? He thinks we’re gonna have sex with him watching.”

  Rat shrugged. “Why not? My Sentinel won’t leave my side, either, but the two of them have come to an accord over the problem of the two of us mating. They’ll both wait in the hall.”

  Joe’s mouth fell open.

  Rat grinned and winked at him.

  “Okay,” Joe said. “I’m still a little drowsy—the Welu is your Sentinel?”

  Rat shrugged. “Only way I’d let him on the team.”

  Joe glanced back at Daviin. “I don’t like this. It’s almost as if it was—”

  “Planned?” Rat suggested. “Yeah. In fact, the only difference between your team and mine is that your Ooreiki was killed. A Huouyt took his place. Tried to assassinate you. They still don’t know who or why.”

  Joe’s heart began to thud in his chest, sending searing pain through his limbs.

  “Careful,” Rat said, her features softening. She rushed forward and caught him as he stumbled. “Daviin, go get a doctor.”

  Daviin took one look at Joe, then vanished and fled.

  “Galek’s dead?” Joe asked as she helped him back into the bed.

  “He was before your departure from Jeelsiht. A Huouyt killed him in an alley, took his pattern.”

  A surge of hope relieved some of the tension in Joe’s chest. “Huouyt don’t take dead patterns.”

  Rat’s brows contorted. “This one did. Trust me, Joe, Galek’s dead. They found him in an alley a few days ago. Only now figured out who it was—had his chip fried and his tattoo carved off. They did an autopsy on his body. It was genuine.”

  Joe blinked back tears. “So,” he said bitterly, “Your team won.”

  “And I’m still looking over my shoulder wherever I go,” Rat said. “You and I both know there’s something more to this than what the Geuji wanted us to see. Yes—my team survived, but I’ve got a feeling you guys are the lucky ones. At least for you, the game’s over.”

  “Galek’s dead.”

  “But the rest of them are alive.” She made a face. “Even that useless Grekkon.”

  “Useless?”

  “He refused to help the other three get you back. He just sat on the surface the whole time and caught the pickup that the rest of them missed because they were down in the tunnels, getting you back.”

  Joe remembered a brief flash of a slick of blood coating the floor in front of him and he shuddered. “Who got me out, then? If it wasn’t the Grekkon…”

  “The Baga, the Jreet, and the Huouyt. They just walked right in, kicked ass, and walked right out. They didn’t even need stitches. Killed twelve Dhasha, if you believe the Baga.”

  “You can’t believe the Baga.”

  “Your Huouyt said it was more along the lines of twenty.”

  Joe flinched. “Jer’ait never lies about how many kills he’s made.”

  “I know.”

  “Where’s Jer’ait?” Joe said.

  “Jer’ait disappeared,” Rat told him. “Nobody knows but Daviin, and he’s not telling.”

  “Where’s Flea?”

  Rat’s face darkened. “Phoenix got him transferred. She broke up your groundteam, Joe. Daviin’s the only one who could tell them to piss off and get away with it.” Then she cocked her head. “Well, Jer’ait could probably get away with it, but he was long gone by the time Phoenix started making her ultimatums.”

  Joe felt a headache building,
as well as a new pain in his chest. “She got Corps Director.”

  Rat nodded. “She put together the only two teams that survived Neskfaat. Not only that, but our teams each took out six princes. Seven, if you count the one your three killed getting to you, but officially they only gave you six assignments, so Headquarters isn’t gonna recognize it. Cheap bastards. You know they never gave Flea his kasja money?”

  Joe looked up sharply. “What?”

  Rat nodded grimly. “Never got around to it. Never got around to giving your team any of its kasjas. I tried to bring it up with the awards committee, but Phoenix overruled me.”

  Joe shook his head and looked away, clenching his fists in fury. His artificial right hand still felt odd, but it reacted to his whims well enough to suit him.

  Rat stood up and patted him gently on the chest. “I’ll take you up on the sex thing later. Right now, though, I’m gonna go find your Voran before he meets up with my Welu and they decide their non-violence pact doesn’t carry to anonymous hospital corridors.”

  “You sent him to get a nurse,” Joe said, automatically feeling a pang of worry.

  “Oh, I know,” Rat said. “But he’s lost. A Jreet couldn’t find his way to a door in a one-roomed house. You rest. I’ll find him.”

  “Thanks,” Joe said, leaning back. He tried to relax, but the injustices of the past few days were haunting him.

  “I’ll send a nurse with more drugs, too,” Rat said. “You look like you need them.”

  CHAPTER 31: Wrapping up the Plan

  “And only one will survive?”

  “Yes,” Forgotten said. “That’s the one you want.”

  “Interesting,” Rri’jan said. He glanced at his watch. “Two and a half hours. Had you been planning this before I captured you?”

  “You did not capture me,” Forgotten said. “And, while I did have some general ideas, I began the majority of my planning the moment you stepped onto my ship.”