by Sara King
“Don’t forget your bra,” Daviin said pointing.
The naked woman glared at the Jreet. “I’m surprised you even know what it is.”
“I’m not,” Joe said. “He likes to wat—” Joe’s jaw fell open. “Daviin. Is Jer’ait serious? They’re finally giving us our kasjas?”
“He said there’d be a lot of money,” Daviin said, bobbing his head excitedly. At one time, the Jreet had scorned Congressional currency. Now, cut off from Vora, living on a grounder’s pay, and going rotations between melaa had put things into perspective. He was already twenty thousand credits in debt to Joe, and still the Jreet was barely eating enough to keep himself from starving.
When Congress issued its payments, it didn’t take into account the fact the Jreet was seven rods long and could eat a cow a day and still be hungry.
“And you’re sure it’s really from Jer’ait? Not a fake?”
“Well,” Daviin said, “It was delivered by a Peacemaker. When I asked, the little Ueshi coward told me Jer’ait was taking a few weeks off. Unspecified reasons.”
Joe frowned. “Don’t tell me you assaulted another Peacemaker.”
“At least I didn’t eat him. I wanted to eat him.”
The Jreet’s tone of voice suggested he’d come very close.
Seeing the Jreet’s hungry gleam, Joe grimaced. “If they’re giving us our kasjas,” Joe said, “We can afford to splurge a little. How about—”
“Melaa?” Daviin asked, the gleam of a happy child lighting his metallic yellow eyes.
“Yeah,” Joe said, grinning. “As many as you want. My treat.”
That turned out to be a mistake. Daviin ate an entire herd, and was so bloated when it came time to get on the shuttle they had to wait for them to work their way out the other end before he would fit.
The shuttle ride was awful. Every two tics, Daviin would crane his neck and peer into the cockpit and ask, “You think we’re close?”
Joe kept him entertained with stories of beef steers he remembered seeing as a kid when his parents took him and Sam on a road trip through Texas. The more he talked about them, the more interested Daviin became. It came to the point where Joe was making up details, just to keep the Jreet occupied.
By the time they got to Earth, cows grew to be several hundred tons, came in all variety of flavors, and put up a good fight before they relinquished their succulent meat. Daviin was particularly excited by the last detail. Jreet, unlike other, civilized creatures, liked to fight for their dinner.
Joe didn’t have the heart to tell him that pretty much every cow Joe had ever seen could be taken out with a two-by-four.
Jer’ait and Flea met them in the offloading area. Flea was back to his normal beetle-green and bright red, insectoid eyes, having shed the black when Maggie sent him to Grakkas to watch Trosska mine ruvmestin. The first thing out of Flea’s mouth was, “So, Joe, you ready to go rescue your brother?”
“Huh?”
Smoothly, Jer’ait said, “Perhaps there’s a better place to discuss these things, Baga. Besides, they must be exhausted from such a long trip. We could find a quiet place to eat and talk about old times.”
“What did he say about Sam?” Joe demanded.
“Come,” Daviin said, grabbing him by the shoulder, “We eat. I’m tired of ship food. Someone find me a cow.”
They found a cow, though it was not in a restaurant, but in a rancher’s backyard. Daviin was fairly upset at the lack of resistance he found when he vanished and screamed a war-cry, but looked mollified twenty tics later, when he was tearing the remains of the meat from the hindquarters.
“How much did you pay the farmer?” Joe asked Jer’ait, wincing at the way the Jreet was happily spreading shattered bones and entrails over a thirty-foot area. “Maybe you should double it.”
Jer’ait nodded silently.
“So you’re sure it’s Sam?” Joe asked finally. “I watched him die on the news. They made his execution public.”
“Faked,” Jer’ait said.
Joe’s face twisted. “So someone died in his place?”
“Of course not,” Jer’ait replied. “You’d be amazed what we can do with robotics and artificial imagery nowadays.”
Joe clenched his robotic hand and shook his head. “No. I believe you. This thing’s awesome. Better than my real one, and it doesn’t hurt when I ram it in someone’s face.”
“He’s been doing a lot of that,” Daviin commented.
“I’d heard,” Jer’ait said. “Congress was not kind to you after Neskfaat.”
Daviin grunted agreement and tore into another haunch.
“So did they ever figure out what Forgotten wanted with Neskfaat?” Joe asked.
Jer’ait’s gaze remained stoic. “Yes.”
Daviin stopped chewing. Even Flea had stopped spitting at flies to stare at the Huouyt.
“So why’d he do it?” Joe asked.
Much too carefully, Jer’ait said, “The official story is that he was attempting to get my brother into the Tribunal by assassinating Mekkval. He sent Rat’s team after the Dhasha Representative two rotations after you last saw her on Jeelsiht. Made it appear as if it were a military-sanctioned operation. She never knew who she was attacking.”
“She’s dead, isn’t she?” Joe said.
“The official story is yes,” Jer’ait said. “All six of them died before they even got halfway down the tunnels.”
Joe frowned at Jer’ait and said, “Official story?” even as Daviin slammed the remnants of the cow down and straightened. “This Geuji. How do we kill it?”
Flea snorted. “We can’t kill it.”
“Anything can be killed,” Daviin said, “And this thing needs it more than most.”
Jer’ait shook his head. “Normally, I’d agree with you, Daviin, but he staged Neskfaat and Aez simply to get the Huouyt banned from the Tribunal.”
Joe frowned. “Banned? You know that for a fact?”
“He gave me a written confession,” Jer’ait said. “Translated in thirteen thousand different languages, for the Regency’s convenience.”
Joe’s attention sharpened. “You? As in you personally?”
“I sought him out,” Jer’ait said. “We talked.”
Every one of Jer’ait’s groundmates stared at him.
“You…talked…to Forgotten?” Flea finally whispered, obviously in awe.
Jer’ait made a dismissive gesture. “It only confirmed things I already knew.”
“And then you captured him?” Daviin demanded.
“He turned himself in,” Jer’ait said. “Part of his conditions of surrender was that Congress give his people access to basic entertainment and communication between each other.”
“And have they?” Joe demanded.
Jer’ait gave him a long look. “Not yet.
“That’s it?” Daviin demanded. “All that, and it was just politics?”
“What else is war but politics?”
Daviin flung a bone in disgust. “The Geuji needs to die,” Daviin said. “He’s shed too much blood.”
Jer’ait seemed to hesitate. “I’m not sure the blood he shed was entirely bad, Jreet.”
Daviin lifted his bloody muzzle sharply. “Explain that.”
“He destroyed Aez…because it was filled with religious zealots intent on spilling blood. Not even subjugating—just spilling blood.”
“They would never have bested the Vorans,” Daviin snorted.
“They weren’t interested in warring other Jreet. They wanted the blood of lesser creatures, easy pickings. I researched the Peacemaker reports off Aez before it exploded. The moment the Dhasha accumulated on Neskfaat, the Aezi would have begun slaughtering innocents.” Jer’ait glanced at the others. “Further, Rat is not dead. The Geuji made some sort of pact with Mekkval—I’m still not sure if the Dhasha knows it or not—and Rat and her team now work as a specialized unit for Mekkval, hunting down and killing renegade Dhasha before they can start a war
. Mekkval faked their deaths, and used the opportunity to charge Rri’jan with attempted murder. So far, they’ve killed four renegade princes, and when they are not hunting Dhasha, Rat and her team are living a life of luxury on Kaleu.”
Joe, who had been barely scraping by, having to feed himself and his Sentinel on a Prime Commander’s pay, felt a pang of jealousy at the news. “What else?” he demanded. “There’s more.”
This time, Jer’ait spoke with great reluctance. “I researched the Dhasha princes Forgotten lured to Neskfaat,” he said. “All but one were known traitors. Just one.”
Joe felt acid etch the insides of his veins. “Bagkhal.”
“The one we killed. His ‘lieutenant.’ Yes.”
Joe knew that meant something. Everyone else at the meeting knew it, too. But, from the sideways glances and silence, no one had any idea what.
Tentatively, Jer’ait said, “Joe, do you have any idea why…”
“No,” Joe snapped.
“For once,” Daviin said softly, “I think I understand why Aliphei keeps the Geuji locked in the Space Academy vault. Just one could bring down Congress.”
“But he hasn’t,” Flea said. “Makes you wonder why not, huh?”
Bitterly, now, Joe said, “How many of them are there, Jer’ait?”
“About five thousand,” Jer’ait said. “Rri’jan was using them for leverage. Or so he thought.”
“And now?”
“Aliphei’s having them all killed. He says Forgotten has proven the Geuji are too dangerous to keep alive, and Rri’jan’s actions basically constituted a hostage situation. Should there be any other Geuji out there, Congress can’t take the chance that another Representative will decide to use them as a bargaining chip.”
Joe glanced out at the farmland, troubled. “And Forgotten’s just letting it happen?”
“Forgotten is detained, like the rest of them,” Jer’ait replied. “He’s on a ship docked at Koliinaat, destined for Levren once his trial is over, and has been cut off from all communication with the outside. There is nothing he can do.”
“After he confessed,” Flea said, obviously disbelieving. “And got pardoned? Registered as a citizen and everything? Tried to come clean?”
“Indeed,” Jer’ait said softly.
“The Tribunal breaks their word?” Daviin demanded.
“Mekkval objected,” Jer’ait said. “Aliphei and Prazeil overrode him. Forgotten was a…high-profile…target. They’d be furgs to let him go. His trial takes place in a little over a rotation. The Regency is mustering its greatest lawyers to build the case. They’re importing Bajna to crunch the numbers for them. After that, he is sent to Levren, where he dies.”
Joe watched Jer’ait’s expression carefully. Buzzing over to land on his shoulder, Flea cocked his head at the Huouyt and said, “There’s something you’re not telling us.”
Jer’ait gave the Baga a slow, reluctant nod. “I’m in a position to see and hear quite a bit. The whole thing smells like Neskfaat did. I think this was the Geuji’s plan all along.”
“To kill his species?” Joe was appalled.
“That, and to solve a few problems before he disappeared.” Jer’ait’s purple eye was sad. “Once a turn, a team is sent in to evaluate the captives. Aliphei keeps them in wretched conditions, without light nor sound, nor any contact with the rest of the world. There’s no way to free them from that place without the Tribunal’s express permission. That means Aliphei’s permission. And Aliphei is intent on keeping them as secluded as possible, to prevent any plotting amongst them.”
“So Forgotten wants them to die,” Joe said. “All of them. Himself included.”
“He’s sent twelve agents into the vaults to check on them. Every one of them has been a Jahul.”
“So?”
“The Geuji were not fitted with electronic voices,” Jer’ait said. “They have no way of communicating with anyone who enters their prison.”
“Except the Jahul,” Joe said, eyes widening with understanding.
“Yes,” Jer’ait said, “And every one of those Jahul were caught and interrogated afterwards.” He cocked his head. “All but one of them betrayed the Geuji and all but one of them was subsequently executed. The last one escaped. That was only a few weeks after Aez. And here’s the odd thing. His empathy rating was off the charts. He kept insisting the Geuji were miserable. Hopeless. That we were cruel to hold them like that. Not one of the other Jahul even mentioned the prisoners, other than to say they could forget they saw them. This one couldn’t stop talking about them. Even drugged, it’s all he would say.”
“So you think this last spy got back to Forgotten and told him what his people were feeling?” Daviin demanded.
“Lacking any other means of communicating with them, I think that’s a very real possibility.”
“And Forgotten decided to kill them.” Joe did not sound happy.
“I think he’d decided to kill them long before he blew up Aez,” Jer’ait said. “This just solidified it in his mind.”
“There is a special level of hell reserved for kin-killers,” Daviin said, obviously disgusted. “Like I said before, this Forgotten needs to die.”
“He’s doing them a favor,” Jer’ait said. “They’re going to remain imprisoned as long as Aliphei lives.”
No one needed to voice the fact that Aliphei was of a species that did not succumb to old age, and had enough drugs, nanos, and bodyguards whenever he traveled away from Koliinaat that accidental death wasn’t likely.
“Can we talk about Joe’s brother now?” Flea demanded. “The Geuji is interesting, but right now, I’m craving cash.”
Catching Joe’s frown, Jer’ait said, “Flea believes your brother would be willing to relinquish a percentage of his savings to his rescuers.”
“He will,” Flea said, “Or I’ll glue him to the prison floor myself.”
Daviin’s head perked up. “How much of a percentage?”
“In the billions,” Flea said.
Daviin glanced at Jer’ait. Jer’ait nodded.
Daviin’s eye-ridges lifted in surprise. “We’ve wasted enough time. Joe wants to see his brother.” He hurriedly ducked under the fence, leaving the mangled remains of the cow behind. “Come, Joe. You must introduce us!”
CHAPTER 34: Billions
Sam sighed as his jailors returned. He couldn’t see them through the blindfold, but he could hear them. Strange. I don’t remember that buzzing. Maybe they brought in somebody new.
“Power outage?” he said, grinning. Any setbacks for his interrogators gave him reason to smile.
“Yes,” a strange voice said, above him. Far above him.
Sam was a tall man, and he was standing, since they’d left him no chair. Whatever it was that now shared the room with him must have brushed the ceiling.
Sam swallowed, realizing they were going back into another intimidation routine. “What a shame,” he said, trying not to act as spooked as he felt. “I hope nobody bumps his head.”
“Oh, they’ll manage.” A man’s voice. He sounded amused.
They?
“Get moving, Sam,” the ‘tall’ voice said, though he didn’t sound so tall anymore. Eye level, and behind him.
“Call me Samuel,” he said. “Sam’s for friends and decent Human beings.”
“Funny. I seem to have heard that somewhere before.” A third voice, flat, yet pitched with meaning that Sam could only guess.
Sam edged forward a few feet, then cocked his head. “Where is everybody? This hall is always filled with people.”
“They ran screaming,” the ‘tall’ voice said.
“Careful,” the ‘flat’ voice said. “You’ll frighten the child.”
“I’m not a child,” Sam snapped. “I’m seventy-one, you dumb fucks. The mod just makes me look younger. And what the hell’s going on?” The buzzing sound was back, this time only ninths from his face. “What the hell is that noise?”
“You know
,” a tinny voice said above the buzzing, “I think he looks like you, Commander.”
“If this is an attempt to intimidate me, it’s not gonna work.”
A huge alien hand slapped Sam on the back, claws digging painfully into his skin as it shoved him forward. “Walk, Human. We’ll scare you later.”
“Promise,” the tinny, floating voice said.
Sam settled into an unconcerned gait, allowing the enormous hand to guide him. “Where are we walking?”
“Out,” the tinny voice said. “So we can interrogate you.”
“You’ve been interrogating me,” Sam snapped.
“Not like this, we haven’t,” the Human said.
Sam felt a coldness trickle up the base of his spine. There was something about that voice he didn’t like. There was something about the whole situation he didn’t like.
“Where is everybody?” he demanded.
“They’re watching us walk you out the front door,” the man said. “It’s actually pretty funny. I think you scared them, Daviin.”
“No more than you did, Commander.”
“You know, this is a piece of cake compared to a crawl. At least the Takki would attack us.”
“They did attack us,” the tinny voice said. “And then they stopped.”
“Cowards,” the ‘tall’ voice said. “When we’re done here, I should come back and make them all dance on my tek for abandoning their duties so easily.”
The ‘tall’ gaoler shoved Sam again, who had slowed as he puzzled over the conversation. It felt like getting hit by a Congressional freighter. He let out an oof and stumbled, the bones in his back creaking as he struggled to catch his breath.
“They’ve got a sooty assignment on a sooty border planet,” the Human said. “What do you expect? You think they’re gonna put their lives on the line for a poofy-haired, smartass criminal?”
Sam’s feet stopped of their own accord. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”
“Move,” the tall voice said.
“No,” Sam said. “I’m staying here. Somebody help!”
Sam was a big man, a full six-seven, but when the alien shoved him, he moved.
