Zero Recall

by Sara King

“They’re not going to help you,” the man said behind him. “Trust me. If you could see their faces, you’d understand.”

  “Hell,” the buzzing voice said, “If he could see anything, he’d understand.”

  The four of them laughed at that. Sam began to get more and more spooked. More than anything, he wanted the blindfold off. He really began to get scared when they pushed him into the back of a haauk. “This is a trick, isn’t it?”

  “You’re about to find out,” the man said. He was sitting right beside him, and, from the way they were pressed shoulder-to-shoulder in the back seat of the haauk, Sam guessed they were about the same height and build. He squirmed away from him uncomfortably.

  Sam became even more nervous when he realized it was a big haauk. Made for transport. And, whatever it was that was climbing aboard behind them was making the entire thing rock like a toddler hopping on a swingset. Sam tried scooting back out of the seat, but another large shape sat down beside him. The haauk began to move.

  The buzzing grew louder, until Sam felt something land in his lap. He flinched when he felt the thing brush his balls through his prison overalls.

  “So,” the buzzing voice said. “Where’d you stash your money, Sam?”

  “I’d tell him,” the man said. “He’s had a really bad past six rotations.”

  “Do you know how much stuff costs on a ruvmestin planet?” Flea demanded. “I was going into debt just to stay alive.”

  Sam snorted. “I thought we were talking about genetics and how I cracked your code.”

  “Who wants to look like a powder puff?” the man said. “I saw the pictures, but it’s even weirder close up.”

  Sam’s heart was pounding, now. “This isn’t about the experiment?”

  “No,” the ‘tinny’ voice said, from his lap. “It’s about your money. Where is it?”

  “What kind of Peacemakers are you?” Sam asked.

  “The very best,” the flat voice said.

  “Trust me,” the man said, “You really, really want to tell us.”

  “You’re just thieves!” Sam cried.

  “What did you say?” An enormous, clawed hand clapped him upon the shoulder and squeezed, painfully.

  “That was a mistake,” the flat voice said. “His kind have very prickly honor.”

  “I was told this could be a mutually beneficial business arrangement,” the tall voice said. “I was told we free you, you pay us. If you don’t want to pay us…”

  Something wrenched Sam out of his seat and held him off the ground, the air from the traveling haauk whipping through his hair. “We’ll still free you.”

  Sam screamed.

  “Careful,” the flat voice said. “We’re half a length up. You drop him and we don’t get paid.”

  “I won’t drop him. Unless he wants me to.”

  Sam somehow got a hold on himself and laughed. “This is just another game.”

  The man sounded worried, now. “Listen to me, Sam. You don’t know the Jreet. He means every word. You piss him off and he’ll drop you.”

  All the tension left Sam’s body. “You’re lying. This is all a setup. We’re not really moving anywhere. You’ve got a fan on us and we’re still inside the prison.”

  The Human sighed. “Sam, I was gonna try to spare you this, but since you’re being difficult…” Sam felt hands reach behind his head and undo the blindfold.

  No sooner had Sam caught a glimpse of the man’s face than he was suddenly wrenched around, dangled ten feet off the edge of a moving haauk by a slab of scarlet muscle that looked capable of ripping him in half with two fingers.

  Sam screamed.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere!” the Jreet snapped, leaning close. His golden eyes bored into Sam’s skull. “So tell me, Human. Will you pay us for your rescue?”

  “Yes,” Sam gasped, his legs kicking futilely for purchase as the ground passed by thousands of feet beneath him.

  “Excellent!” The Jreet yanked him back inside the haauk and thrust him back into the seat between the man and an odd-eyed Huouyt. “You see? No drugs required.”

  “He has yet to tell us where the money is,” the violet-eyed Huouyt said as he untied Sam’s hands.

  “I’ll tell you,” Sam muttered. His eyes once more found the man’s face. He looked even more like Sam’s father than Sam had, with his brown eyes and a lean, muscular body that a Greek god would have envied. Bitterly, he growled, “Even though I know you’re not gonna kill me.”

  The man’s brown eyes remained impassive. “What makes you say that?”

  “Cut the crap, Joe,” Sam spat. “I know who you are. You’re not gonna hurt me.”

  “No,” Joe agreed, “But everyone else on this haauk might. You have no idea the kind of dangerous bastards I had to enlist to help spring you. I told them there’d be good money involved in getting you out…who knows what they’ll do if you don’t pay up?”

  With his words, Joe handed Sam a reader. In it, four separate accounts stood open, awaiting transactions.

  “It would really help if you could divide it equally amongst the four of us,” Joe said. “What are you worth, exactly?”

  “Two billion,” Sam said.

  “Jer’ait?”

  “Eight, easy. Probably twelve.”

  “That’s fortunate,” Joe said. “I promised Daviin three, and everyone should have an equal share.”

  Sam felt like he’d swallowed lead weights. He was only worth twelve and a half billion. “I only have nine.”

  “Jer’ait?”

  “He’s lying.”

  Damn the Huouyt and their ability to recognize a lie! “I don’t have twelve billion!” Sam cried, carefully stabilizing his brainwaves and thinking of fluffy pink bunny rabbits.

  “Lying.”

  Sam narrowed his eyes at the Huouyt. Seeing his consternation, Joe grinned at him. “If you don’t got it—which Jer’ait seems to think you do—sounds to me like you better come up with some creative criminality right now, because we’re not setting you down until we’ve each got three billion credits.”

  “You’re just a petty thief!” Sam snapped.

  Joe shrugged. “Runs in the family, I guess.”

  “And I’d like to point out it’s not exactly petty,” the small, tinny voice said. It took Sam a moment to realize it was coming from the roof above him.

  A spider-like creature with huge red, buglike eyes and black-ribbed wings stared down at him, its scissor-like beak aimed at his face. Sam quickly looked away.

  “I can give you each two,” Sam said.

  “I was promised three!” the Jreet roared.

  Sam flinched. “Two each and three for the Jreet.”

  The Huouyt’s eyes fixed on him coldly. “You would favor the Jreet?”

  Sam realized where he’d heard a flat voice like that before. A Va’gan assassin, hired to kill him in his fortress apartment twenty years ago. “I can give you both three.”

  “Oh?” the little insect creature snapped. “Then maybe I should cut off a trophy to take with me. How about a hand, Joe? I never got a prince talon. I should have a hand.”

  “Nah,” Joe said. “He’d just grow it back. Gotta find something more permanent.”

  The insect dropped from the ceiling, landing solidly on Sam’s shoulder. “The head, then?”

  “Fine!” Sam snapped. “Three to each of you.”

  “And what about Joe?” the Jreet demanded. “You would rob your brother of his due?”

  “I don’t have any more,” Sam gritted.

  “Lying.”

  A huge, clawed hand enveloped his shoulder and squeezed. “Find it.”

  In the end, Sam transferred all twelve billion.

  “So why didn’t you come get me sooner?” Sam asked, sulking, as the Baga and the Huouyt left them on the haauk to test their accounts.

  “I thought you were dead,” Joe said, watching the door where the two had disappeared. “That, and I didn’t have the groundte
am.”

  Sam’s mouth fell open. “This is your groundteam? You asshole! That’s why they were calling you ‘Commander,’ isn’t it? You could’ve told them to be happy with two and they woulda dropped it!”

  Joe grinned. “Yeah, but what’s a few billion to a criminal mastermind? You’ll get it all back in a couple turns while the rest of us are stuck making Congie wage the rest of our lives. This is gonna be our only payday worth talking about until we die.”

  “May that be soon and violent,” Sam growled.

  Joe shrugged. “Prolly will be. That’s why we’re gonna go use it up on having a good time before we get back off leave.”

  Sam felt like he was choking. “You’re gonna use up three billion credits to have a good time?”

  “Yep. Flea plans on buying himself a spaceship so he can crash it. He’s a destructive little shit, I’ll tell you what.”

  Sam thought he was going to throw up. “You’re insane.”

  “Nope,” Joe said. “Just realistic. We know the four of us prolly won’t live long. Might as well get our jollies in now, before Congress finally finds a way to kill us.”

  “Besides,” the Jreet roared, “they split us up, so we’ve gotta enjoy the good company while we can.”

  Joe cocked his head up to eye the Jreet. “You know, Daviin, you should probably set aside a few mil, just to keep you from starving later on. Think of your stomach.”

  “I am,” Daviin said. “And I’m thinking of all the melaa my share will buy me. I don’t intend to be able to move for weeks. I might manage to get a few more segments out of this.”

  “What about your Sentinel duties?”

  Daviin snorted. “Jer’ait took care of all the ones who wanted to kill you. I can afford some time off.”

  Sam frowned, glancing between the Jreet and Joe. “He’s your Sentinel?”

  Joe didn’t get a chance to answer because Flea burst out of the building and came at them at approximately the speed of sound.

  “It’s in!” the Baga cried. “It’s all there! We routed it through some Jahul gambling dens, shows up to Congress as gaming winnings.” The insectoid little monster landed on top of the Jreet’s head and tapped a bright red brow-scale with a sharp claw. “You hear that, Daviin? Your bank account says you actually won at cards, for once.”

  “Perhaps you would like to make another wager, Baga,” the Jreet replied. “Bigger, this time.”

  The massive insect puffed up. “Bring it o—”

  “No wagers,” Joe said. “You each have three billion.” He gave the Jreet a pointed look. “Period.”

  Behind the Baga, Jer’ait strode from the hub with calm purpose, showing neither excitement nor pleasure. “We transferred it all to the new accounts,” Jer’ait said as he got into the haauk. Then, looking at Sam, he said, “On Faelor.”

  Sam winced. He had memorized the account numbers he’d transferred the billions into and had been planning on reclaiming his money as soon as they let him go, but Faelor was run by Bajna. They were the bankers of Congress, and not a cent would leave the planet without six different forms of encrypted identification.

  Sam was never seeing his money again.

  “Great!” Joe said. “Then let’s go free my wayward brother.”

  Sulking, Sam said, “Take me to the Manhattan Skyplex. I’ve got friends there.” He leaned back and watched the landscape speed by, brooding.

  Several hours later, Joe clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, we’re here, little brother. Out you go.”

  Sam opened his eyes, not realizing he’d fallen asleep. He blinked at the dry desert scrub and the two lonely little huts along a dusty orange road. The heat was bearing down on them like they were stuck inside a furnace, with the front of Sam’s prison overalls already beginning to stain with sweat.

  “This isn’t the Skyplex.”

  “Nope,” Joe said. “Figure I’m your big brother and should give you a talkin’ to about all the crime you’ve been doing, but I don’t have the time and I don’t really think you’d listen, anyway, so I’m just gonna drop you off on the other side of the planet, away from all your thieving buddies, and hope you can straighten yourself out.”

  Sam’s eyes flew wide as he saw the man in African dress step out of the closest hut to stare at them. “You can’t.”

  “Might wanna lose the pajamas, though,” Joe continued. “They’re probably tagged.”

  “They are,” Jer’ait said.

  “You can’t,” Sam repeated, more stunned than worried.

  “Oh, but we can,” Joe said. “Figure you need to learn about hard work, since Dad never had the chance to teach you himself. There isn’t a phone for a hundred miles, a bank outlet for a thousand. You could try walking to them, but we paid that nice young man over there ten thousand dollars to give you a job, and I think he intends to do it.” Joe grinned at him. “You ever herded cattle before, Sam? Daviin thought you’d enjoy it.”

  “Joe, you can’t do this! Dad would—”

  “Dad would what?” Joe’s eyes darkened and Sam suddenly wished they weren’t sitting so close. “Believe me, I can do this, Sam. I think of the kind of ash you’ve dragged Dad’s name into and you’re lucky I don’t kill you. Now get out. And take off the overalls. We’ll get rid of them for you.”

  Sam glanced at the other three, hoping to find an ally against his brother’s insanity.

  All he found were cold, hard, alien stares.

  Reluctantly, Sam got out of the haauk. When the Huouyt held out a flat tentacle, he reluctantly removed his overalls and handed them over.

  Then, as Sam watched, the haauk rose into the air and flew off. Sam watched it until the craft was over the mountains.

  A dark hand clapped him on the shoulder and Sam turned.

  The man beamed a bright African smile at him. Then he said something in a language that was neither Congie, nor English, and pointed towards the six scrawny cows.

  Sam laughed and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

  Immediately, the African’s smile faded. He gave Sam a shove.

  Sam stopped laughing.

  #

  Syuri received Forgotten’s letter after almost two rotations without communications. Immediately, Syuri dropped everything and took the message to his room.

  Syuri. I’m sorry we couldn’t continue our relationship together. I’m sure you deduced as much, but Aliphei has left the Geuji in abject misery for hundreds of thousands of turns. I’ll be giving myself up in the hopes I can earn them some basic privileges and bring to light their suffering, once and for all. If all goes according to plan, I should be able to at least secure one-way net links and news feeds for my kind. Perhaps, if Fate is kind, I will manage to procure them communication between themselves, which would be the greatest entertainment a Geuji shall ever know. Even when the Geuji were free, our greatest diversion was discussion with our peers. If I can obtain them that, then my life has been well-lived.

  Unfortunately, Aliphei has a history of quietly destroying races such as mine, and has had since the formation of Congress to learn from his mistakes, so I will be playing with fire. Even if I do succeed, you will likely never hear from me again, for I go to join my race in the vaults.

  I tell you this to let you know I’ve set you up to inherit my full estate. As soon as I’m gone, you will be rich. It’s the least I can do, to repay your kindness.

  Please don’t do anything stupid.

  Your friend,

  Jemria

  Syuri played the message twice more, then threw the reader against the wall.

  He cried, at first, because he knew Forgotten had been planning this from the moment he met him. He’d been looking for an heir, someone to pass his fortunes to when he handed himself over to Aliphei to be destroyed.

  That’s not going to happen, Syuri thought suddenly, tearing himself out of his thoughts.

  He would not let it happen. Forgotten would not end up like the other Geuji. Syuri could not
allow it.

  He knew what he had to do.

  Come Peacemakers, Jreet hells, or Dhasha jaws, Syuri was going to save his friend.

  CHAPTER 35: Ka-par

  “You two really should eat something,” the Huouyt said as he clung to the side of the massive private pool, surfing channels on the enormous vidscreen of the penthouse of the Ueshi pleasure-palace that they had rented for the rotation. He plucked a Huouyt delicacy from a plate and held it up appreciatively. “I will not be responsible for the bill if one of you starves to death.”

  “Besides,” Joe said, from under the tiny, expert fingers of an Ueshi masseuse, “you’re missing out on the fun.” At that, the Ueshi began a gentle thumping down the backs of his legs, loosening the muscles there, and Joe groaned.

  “Quiet,” Daviin muttered from his coils. “Ka-par.”

  Joe rolled his eyes. “And what are you charhead furgs gonna do if one of you wins, huh?”

  “Shut up,” the Baga replied. “The Jreet’s about to cave.” Neither one had so much as twitched for almost a week.

  “From what I’ve seen,” Jer’ait said, “you’re both about to pass out.”

  “First one to pass out loses,” Baga said stubbornly. “Then I own his ass.”

  “I think I’ll make you carry my grooming kit,” the Jreet retorted, “as would properly befit a slave.”

  Over by the vidscreen, the Human gave a loud groan and rolled his eyes. “Guys, we’ve got three billion credits apiece and you haven’t moved from that spot in the last two weeks.”

  “Ka-par,” Flea said.

  “Yes,” Daviin said. “Let the little insect lose fairly. Stop distracting him.”

  “I’m not having another melaa shipped in here, Daviin,” the Human growled. “And Flea, get your ass off the chair and get something to eat. This is ridiculous.”

  The Jreet ignored Joe completely, his predatory gaze completely focused on the tiny Baga, who returned it intently, seated on the back of a chair facing him. Joe muttered something under his breath and went back to surfing channels, a fizzy—non-alcoholic—Earth-drink in his hand.

  Joe was groaning with pleasure as the little Ueshi began working her way up his back when Jer’ait heaved himself from the water and shouted, “By the bloody fucking eyes of the merciful dead, the self-molesting furgs are falling into his fucking trap!”