by Sara King
He received nothing but silence.
“All right,” the Human panted as he came jogging up, “what the hell’s going on?”
“I’m not sure,” Jer’ait said warily. “Give me a moment.” He cocked his head and looked at the wall. “Watcher, where is Flea?”
“Who is Flea?” the Watcher asked.
Jer’ait narrowed his eyes. “You know who Flea is.”
“There is no registered Flea on Koliinaat,” the Watcher said. “Perhaps you can supply me with a registered name? Koliinaati privacy laws of the 533,500th Standard turn require confirmed association or legitimate potential business with the subject of a database search before I can legally provide you with any more information.”
Irritated, Jer’ait glanced at the Human. “Privacy laws. What’s his name?”
“Burned if I know,” Joe muttered. “Something long. Think it started with T. Or X.” The Human cocked his bulbous head. “Or R?”
Jer’ait glanced up at Daviin as he wound up between them. “What’s the Bagan furg’s name?”
At his query, the Jreet shrugged. “I have trouble remembering the name of the planet I’m on,” the Jreet replied.
Frustrated, Jer’ait turned back to the wall. “He is my groundmate,” Jer’ait said. “The Baga.”
There was no response.
Jer’ait realized he had not used the formal activation code to acknowledge speaking directly to the Watcher. Bristling, he said, “Watcher, he is my groundmate.”
“According to my records, Jer’ait, you are not part of a groundteam.”
“Former groundteam,” Jer’ait said, balling his boneless Ooreiki fingers to keep his irritation in check.
“There are two members of your former groundteam in the hub with you, Peacemaster.”
“Where is my former Bagan groundmate?” Jer’ait asked calmly.
“In a hallway, Peacemaster.”
“Where is this hallway?” Jer’ait snapped, finally losing his temper.
The Watcher replied by giving him a string of precise coordinates based off of the ever-expanding space around them, using Tordakian finger-lengths as measurement units and the black hole in the Ganut sector as a reference point.
For a long moment, Jer’ait stared at the wall. Then, calmly, he turned to Joe and said, “Flea is helping Forgotten.”
Daviin cocked his head, confusion straining his eye-ridges. “You got that from Tordakian finger-lengths?” He looked impressed. “You are smarter than I thought, Huouyt.”
Jer’ait gave the Jreet an irritated look. “Anyone else have any damn ideas?”
“Uh…Watcher?” Joe said, giving the walls around them a nervous look.
“Yes, Prime Commander Zero?” the Watcher asked immediately
Jer’ait narrowed his eyes. “His registered name is ‘Joe Dobbs.’”
The Watcher said nothing.
“Uh…” Daviin said, glancing at the walls nervously. “Great Watcher of Koliinaat. How long until the Geuji’s trial is over? I have a…wager…I’d like to make.”
“Why wait until the trial is over?” the Watcher asked pleasantly. “Do you have the funds available for a full Representative’s Challenge, Daviin ga Vora?”
Daviin flinched, then glanced at the others, confusion in his small golden eyes. “They are in my accounts on Faelor as we speak,” Daviin replied, frowning. “But I was told by a jenfurgling Ueshi running the Aezi’s office that I could not challenge while the Aezi worm was in a Tribunal session.”
“I don’t see why you couldn’t,” the Watcher said pleasantly. “It’s a mere courtesy. There is no law that says you have to wait. Would you like to submit your application now, Daviin?”
“I can’t,” the Jreet muttered. “I was told by the Exchange Commission that I can’t move that much funding without permits. I’m waiting on permits. They said six weeks.”
“I think it’s safe to say your permits will clear. As a matter of fact, I just received confirmation. The funds have been transferred. Congratulations, Daviin. You are now authorized to challenge.”
Daviin looked flustered. “But they told me that paperwork would take several weeks, once my funds had cleared and I’d placed my security deposit.”
“Not surprisingly, it appears the person you spoke to was wrong. On what grounds would you like to issue your challenge?”
“Now just hold on!” the Human snapped, stepping between the Voran and the wall. At the same time Daviin straightened in a rigid coil of indignant fury that they had been witnessing so often in the last weeks of travel to Koliinaat and said, “The Aezi is a fat, lying, dishonorable vaghi who falsifies crimes and flagrantly breaks his oaths in front of billions, knowingly trying a forgery instead of a real Geuji. He is a disgrace to Jreet everywhere, a coward who has allowed the luxury of Koliinaat to corrupt the Aezis’ already weak moral code, and he shall dance on my tek for his misdeeds.”
“Your application was accepted. Congratulations, Daviin. And good luck.”
An instant later, the Jreet disappeared, leaving Joe and Jer’ait staring at each other in an empty hub. Silence reigned. On the far wall, an elevator pinged and a group of Ooreiki in grounders’ black stepped out and wandered off down a hall, grunting and laughing in a harsh Ooreiki dialect. Then they were gone again, leaving Jer’ait and Joe alone.
“You know,” the Human muttered in the silence that followed, “I get the idea this was a setup.”
#
“The Aezi is a fat, lying, dishonorable vaghi who falsifies crimes and flagrantly breaks his oaths in front of billions, knowingly trying a forgery instead of a real Geuji. He is a disgrace to Jreet everywhere, a coward who has allowed the luxury of Koliinaat to corrupt the Aezis’ already weak moral code, and he shall dance on my tek for his misdeeds.”
Daviin suddenly found himself coiled on a glass platform surrounded by spheritheater seating, his voice of moments before echoing against the thousands upon thousands of seats, none of which were placed higher than the others, half of which were filled with aliens, and all of which were pointed at him. Once again, he got the uncanny feeling of being in the Aezi gladiatorial pit, the entertainment of millions.
Before him, the shamefully pale, fat Aezi Representative was slowly lifting his head from his coils, a look of bewilderment on his blunt, cowardly face.
“Honorable Representatives, as you have just heard, we interrupt this fascinating Tribunal session to highlight a Representative’s Challenge. Daviin ga Vora, son of Redwiin ga Vora, son of Adeiin ga Vora, son of Mabiin ga Vora, son of Rathiin ga Vora, son of—”
“What in the Jreet hells is the meaning of this?” the First Citizen demanded, glaring at Daviin, whose ruby coils now took up the center of the Tribunal platform.
“The Vorans have issued a challenge to the Aezi,” the Watcher replied. “Daviin ga Vora represents.”
“That can wait,” Aliphei roared, so violently that his shaggy blue fur rippled. “We are currently trying the universe’s most dangerous criminal.”
“Yes, well, as stimulating as this show is, Daviin’s application was approved. To delay any longer would be to give the Aezi an unfair time to prepare.”
Representative Prazeil arched his neck up in a fury, making Daviin realize just how big his opponent was. “I was aware of no challenger application!” he roared.
“It was recently approved.”
“How recently?” Aliphei snapped. He had backed away from his podium, putting distance between him and the two of them.
“Of course. In what unit of measurement would you like that information, your Excellency? I could give you Diji ewets, Mogati mebus, Stajetti icarions…”
“Days,” Aliphei snapped.
“Perhaps you can clarify. Do you mean Poenian days, Faelorian days, Grakkan days—”
“Standard days!”
“I apologize, but it is an imprecise number. Would you like that in Bajnan increments of eighty-one, Itharian increments of thirteen, Huma
n increments of ten—”
“Damn it,” Aliphei roared. “Get him off the Tribunal floor! We’re busy.”
“Unfortunately, your Excellency, because the challenged Representative taking part in the trial is weaker and less experienced in combat, and therefore has an excellent chance of losing, and because the challenger, who is more intelligent, more versed in warfare, and more maneuverable, upon winning, could affect the outcome of said trial, the Representative’s Challenge supersedes the trial itself, priority-wise.”
“I vote to condemn!” Aliphei snarled.
“Did you call me weak?!” Prazeil screamed at the air itself. He ripped his podium from the platform and hurled it into the Regency’s spherical seating. “I’m not weak.”
“Care to place your tek on that?” Daviin snapped, rearing in challenge. “I’ll hang it on my wall, Aezi. Small and stunted as it is.”
“Condemn him!” Aliphei snapped. “We have plenty of proof.”
“You shall dance tonight, Voran!” Prazeil shrieked, flinging the First Citizen’s podium aside as his sperm-colored body uncoiled. It tumbled over the edge, only to disappear moments before it crashed into the seating below. The glass beneath Daviin’s coils began to vibrate in his weak, pathetic battlecry. Voran returned it, screaming the name of his forefathers.
“Remove the accused from the platform!” the First Citizen commanded.
“I’m sorry, your Excellency, Prazeil ga Aez is still presiding and it takes two votes to end a Tribunal session.”
Prazeil raised his energy level and vanished from the visible spectrum. An instant later, the box over which was draped the fake Geuji shattered as something huge crashed into it. Daviin pinged and similarly raised his energy. The world went black around him.
“Remove me to my room!” Aliphei shrieked, his shaggy body backing to the very edge of the platform overlooking the void. “Now!”
“As you command, your Excellency.” Then it was just Daviin and Prazeil on the platform, and once again, Daviin found himself facing a larger foe to entertain the masses.
#
“Is that electronics?” one of the Ooreiki seated along the bar asked with a curious note, peering up at the huge vidscreen showing the fight in the center of the Regency. After a violent tussle, the Jreet had flung each other from the central Tribunal platform and were wading through the Congressional seats in a rage as startled Representatives screamed and got out of their way. The camera, however, kept switching back to the glittering, sizzling mechanical guts of the blubbering green Geuji on the screen, who, once the Jreet had crashed into him, had resumed his confession to unhearing masses at a speed approximately five times normal, making his words sound like high-pitched gibberish. No one was taking notes. The Congressional lawyers were either dispersed, dead, or, in one unfortunate Huouyt’s case, splattered in an arc across a good portion of the Regency’s Y-axis seating after Prazeil had whipped him so violently off the platform he ripped in half.
The onlookers had cheered.
Now they were arguing amongst themselves as to whether or not the green blob on the screen was a robot.
“Looks like Daviin’s holding his own,” Joe said, watching the show from his booth with Jer’ait.
“Indeed,” Jer’ait replied. Still in Ooreiki pattern, the Huouyt hadn’t said much since the fight had started. Two hours and five hundred and eighty-seven destroyed Regency seats later, he still hadn’t had much to say.
The room cheered as another podium was ripped from its place and hurled across the Regency. Very rarely did the Watcher allow Representatives to come to blows, and it was the greatest story since Neskfaat, filling every available channels, even one reserved for single-species use. The Ooreiki grounders were even then taking bets on how many podiums the two Jreet would crush in their duel.
“Think he’s going to win?” Joe asked, as the Ooreiki hooted and called for more drinks.
“Do you?” Jer’ait asked, almost bitter.
“You found him once,” Joe said. “How about you find him again? Just the two of us.”
Jer’ait’s sticky Ooreiki-patterned eyes flickered to him. “The first time, he wanted to be found.”
“Screw Forgotten,” Joe said. “Find the Jahul.”
For a moment, Jer’ait almost looked interested. Then, slowly, “The Watcher is not going to help us.”
“He also can’t help the Jahul, specifically, can he?” Joe demanded. “So somewhere on Koliinaat, a Jahul is pushing around a huge box filled with Geuji. Am I right?”
Jer’ait glared at him. “We aren’t going to be able to wreck his plan, Human. Look at it.” He made a disgusted gesture with a boneless arm at the view of the inside of the Regency, where the fake Geuji continued to confess to an empty platform. “It doesn’t matter if Daviin wins. He’s got enough right there to blackmail the Tribunal for the next thousand turns.”
“You’re assuming he escapes.”
“He will,” Jer’ait said. He took another sip of his blue-tinged drink.
“You don’t sound too upset by that.”
“I’m honestly not sure what to think,” Jer’ait said. “I swore an oath to Congress…to uphold the law. And the law is…gray…where the Geuji is concerned. All the crimes we could find to pin on him were pardoned. He’s not even a citizen. His species was never incorporated.”
Joe felt his first real surge of anger boil up from within, realizing that Jer’ait was perfectly happy to let the Geuji get away with everything.
“I say we find him,” Joe said, shoving his cheap whiskey aside. “Daviin said he called himself Syuri. He wrote down his identification numbers and gave them to me.”
Jer’ait gave him an irritated look. “Let the Geuji go. You, me, Daviin, Flea—we were all pawns. Your turn came and went. Now the hand moves on.”
Joe narrowed his eyes at his friend, “What kind of janja pile is that?”
“The realistic kind,” Jer’ait muttered. He went back to watching the fight. Back at the bar, the group of Ooreiki cheered again. Daviin had launched a podium at the Aezi and hit him square in the head, knocking him backwards in a podium-crushing sprawl. Unfortunately, it hadn’t done much damage to the massive, cream-colored Jreet. He screamed another shee-whomph battlecry and flashed invisible again, and a moment later, a wave of Representative chairs went spraying out into the other viewing booths, flung aside by the Jreet’s invisible body. The Ooreiki howled and downed more drinks, calling out bets.
“All right,” Joe said, snagging his coat and standing. “Be a pawn. I’m gonna go have a chat with our friend.”
“How?” Jer’ait snorted.
“I’m gonna ask nicely,” Joe said. He threw his coat over his shoulder and walked from the room.
“The Watcher isn’t stupid!” Jer’ait called after him.
Ignoring the Huouyt, Joe went around the corner, into a relatively deserted hallway, and stopped. He stood there in several moments of silence before he could properly collect his thoughts. He’d never been on Koliinaat before, and the idea of speaking to a sentient AI disturbed him. Tentatively, he said, “Watcher, you hear that?”
“Of course, Joe,” the Watcher replied. “I have been listening since the hub.”
Joe took a deep, shuddering breath, and leaned back against the wall. “Then you know this Geuji forced me to kill one of my best friends. My mentor. His life or mine.”
The Watcher hesitated. “I was aware.”
“I was enslaved by a Dhasha in Human bootcamp,” Joe went on. “The damn thing was going to breed me. I was bigger. More meat. He loved to eat other Humans in front of me, then make me climb into his jaws and pick the flesh from his teeth. Thought I was gonna die. So scared I kept pissing myself. They punished me for that. Tore their claws through my skin, left me with so many scars that nanos have trouble finding what goes where.”
The Watcher said nothing.
“So when I finally got away from him, I swore to myself it would never happen ag
ain. Swore I’d die first. He broke me in a lot of ways. Then Bagkhal saw me mouthing off and decided to piece me back together. Declared ka-par. I was just a stupid kid, so I accepted. I lost. Bagkhal could have taken me as a slave, but didn’t. He could’ve done a lot worse than Knaaren, legally, but he took me under his wing, instead. Taught me how to survive, how to lead.”
His listener’s response was silence.
Joe swallowed. “He even taught me how to die.”
The walls around him resonated with stillness, but he knew the Watcher was listening.
Joe tightened a fist and composed himself. Once he was sure his voice wasn’t going to crack, he went on. “This guy was the only Dhasha I’ve ever known who didn’t have Takki,” he said. “The only decent Dhasha I’ve ever heard of. And I killed him. Looked him in the eyes as he drowned.” Joe swiped trembling fingers across his eyes. “Sputtered and died in a pit I helped dig. I stood on the edge and watched him choke. Water splashed on my feet. I could have saved him. Could have told the Ooreiki to plug the tunnel. All it would’ve taken was a word.” He took a shuddering breath, let it out between his teeth. “I still have nightmares about it.”
“I’m sorry,” the Watcher said softly.
Tilting his head back against the corridor, Joe closed his eyes and said, “You know what it’s like to be sent down a tunnel to die, Watcher?”
“I can guess,” the Watcher said.
“Yeah? You ever felt the dust in your nostrils? Heard the thunder of oncoming Dhasha? Got your arm pulled off ‘cause you were fighting too hard? Seen your blood seeping into the floor as they fought over who got to eat you?”
“No,” the Watcher said.
“You know what it’s like to kill your best friend because he’ll kill you if you don’t?”
The Watcher said nothing.
“I wanna look this Geuji in the eyes and ask him why,” Joe said, opening his eyes. “Of all the guys down there that day, I want to know why he made me do it. Then I want to kill him.”
