by Sara King
“Kihgl—” Joe froze at the sudden sharpness in the alien’s face. The utterly casual, friendly way the Representative was addressing him had almost overrode the nagging little voice in the back of his mind screaming that the conversation was headed into dangerous ground. Wariness winning out, Joe said, “—didn’t give it to me.”
If the Huouyt was disappointed with his response, he didn’t show it. He just plucked another gelatinous orange disc from the tray and said, “And yet he hasn’t taken it away from you, either. I found this mystery even more intriguing once I discovered Kihgl is once again being investigated as a traitor. This time for owning relics of the Fourfold Prophecy.”
Joe felt his skin crawling. So this was what they had brought him to Na’leen for. They didn’t want to send him home. They were trying to get at Kihgl.
Representative Na’leen continued to pick at his food, though his huge oblong eyes never left Joe’s face. “I find Kihgl’s history fascinating. Almost as if he had a…destiny…if one were to make such…leaps.” The Huouyt hesitated, watching Joe through the water, and Joe got the unsettling idea that the alien was gauging his reaction carefully. After a moment, Na’leen went on, “He was trained for Planetary Operations by one of the most famous generals of our day, a Dhasha prince by the name of Bagkhal. He has survived sixteen battles that he had no right to survive. He is extremely intelligent, with dozens of successful reconnaissance missions to his name. He is a gifted saboteur, and his tour on Ubashin proves he has a knack for survival.” The Huouyt paused, watching Joe with his unnerving eyes. “So what interest does he have in you? Why didn’t he simply disappear when this latest Peacemaker investigation began?”
Joe knew how dangerous the conversation had become. He had seen the fear in Kihgl’s eyes. He knew he was a single word from a death sentence, and every nerve was vibrating on edge. “Um,” Joe said, trying to sound as confused as possible, “I’m a recruit. I don’t see much of Commander Kihgl.”
Na’leen’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second, then he went back to his food. Moving on as if Kihgl’s investigation did not matter to him, he said, “When I saw you in formation, I noticed you wore no recruit number. I thought this was an error until I asked about it. Is it true that Kihgl calls you Zero, boy?”
Joe gave a wary nod.
“Why is that, when it is Army custom to begin at One?”
“Kihgl hates me,” Joe said.
“And yet he gave you the kasja. Fascinating, isn’t it?”
Joe did not like the way the Huouyt was watching him beneath the water, so he said nothing.
“I found that contradiction curious,” Representative Na’leen said. “So I examined the ship’s records. Do you know what I discovered? You seem to be bright. I’ll wager you can guess.”
Joe waited, unsure.
“There was no Joe Dobbs on the passenger manifest. Someone had erased you from the rolls. Do you know what this means? Zol’jib could tell you. It’s what someone does right before that unfortunate passenger goes missing.”
Joe felt a cold chill trickle over his body, like all the blood was rushing out his feet. He took a step backwards, feeling suddenly vulnerable.
“Careful. The Jreet are watching you, boy.” Na’leen lifted his paddle-like arm from the pool and motioned languidly at the empty room.
Joe swallowed hard, glancing at walls.
“How old are you, Joe?”
“Fourteen,” he said, a flush of hope lightening his chest. It was the first time any of the aliens had asked him that all-important question.
“You weren’t supposed to be on that ship, were you, Joe?”
Hearing that, from someone with enough power to do something about it, made Joe’s heart ache. “No,” he whispered.
“Why were you?” Na’leen asked, plucking at his food.
“I helped some kids escape,” Joe said, remembering Sam. “Before Commander Lagrah could get them to the ship.”
“And they took you aboard to use you as an Unclaimed?”
Joe nodded.
“But Kihgl accepted you, instead. Gave you a place in his battalion. Why?”
“I don’t know,” Joe said.
“I could offer to send you home, with the Congress’s apologies.”
Joe’s head snapped up, his heart thudding. “Will you?”
Representative Na’leen nudged the orange discs in the bowl with his paddle-like finger. “That depends on what you can tell me of this Kihgl.”
Joe wanted to shout that he would tell him whatever he wanted, anything to get him off the stinking purple planet. Instead, he waited, his nerves taut with wariness. He felt like there was something he was missing, a deeper message in the conversation that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and it left him feeling like someone had a shotgun aimed between his shoulder-blades.
“As I told you, Kihgl is being investigated again. The Peacemakers have already submitted proof of his guilt to your regiment’s Prime Commander, but they continue to investigate because they desire to know why he was hoarding tomes and artifacts relating to the Fourfold Prophecy. A self-made scholar on the end of Congress. Everyone on his ship knew it, too, but his reputation was such that he went unchallenged until now.” Representative Na’leen’s eyes suddenly seemed to crackle with intensity. “Has Kihgl said anything to you about the Fourfold Prophecy?”
“No,” Joe lied.
Representative Na’leen’s electric-blue gaze hardened. “A Huouyt can spot a lie, Joe Dobbs.”
Joe swallowed hard and looked down at his hands, which were even then cut and scabbed from the ubiquitous diamond chips that covered the planet.
“I know a few things about the Fourfold Prophecy,” Representative Na’leen said, still watching him. “Would you care to hear it, Joe Dobbs?”
Joe swallowed hard. “I thought guys were put in jail for knowing stuff about the prophecy.”
Representative Na’leen waved a dismissive hand. “Kihgl’s case was…unique. He had intimate knowledge of the Prophecy. What I would tell you, everyone already knows.”
“Okay,” Joe said nervously. He didn’t really want to learn any more about it, but he also got the idea that if he didn’t go along with the Huouyt’s idle conversation, his assistants might do something nasty—like haul him outside and throw him off the roof.
Representative Na’leen visibly settled himself in the water. Then, taking another gummi disc, he said, “The Fourfold Prophecy first appeared during the Second Regency, during a time of unrest between the first twenty members of Congress two million years ago.” He cocked his head at Joe. “I believe your people were still living in caves, yes?”
Joe grimaced, trying not to feel utterly insecure that this creature’s genes had been around long enough to watch man evolve out of apes. “Maybe.”
“It is nothing shameful,” Na’leen said, apparently guessing the cause of Joe’s displeasure. “That your species is still evolving is exciting, indeed. You haven’t reached your ideal genome, yet, which means your genetic code still allows for change. Most sentient races are fully evolved before we discover them. In fact, the scholars find your entire planet highly interesting.”
Realizing the Huouyt was talking about Joe and his species as if they were an intriguing form of bacteria in a petri dish, he muttered, “You were saying something about a prophecy.”
“Ah, yes.” The Huouyt made an amused sound. “The Fourfold Prophecy seems to have originated in four places at once, at different corners of the galaxy. It is rumored that the Trith were involved, though no one has been able to verify that. What’s important is that in each of the four prophecies, it is said that a new species will emerge that Congress will only crush itself trying to conquer. This species will have an ‘extraordinary genetic makeup that tests the boundaries of science.’ An obvious reference to Huouyt’s ability to take other species’ patterns.”
Joe felt his curiosity piqued at yet another inference that the Huouyt could ch
ange shape. “You guys really transform?”
“We do,” Representative Na’leen said, gesturing enthusiastically. “But that is not the most telling part of the prophecy. It is the fact that each of the Fourfold Prophecies uses these exact words… ‘The new species will be a mixture of old and new, able to trade lives with a thought and sustain life without death.”
“That’s really vague,” Joe said, remembering the stupid woman at the fair and her dumbass predictions about cave-people.
“No, it’s not,” Representative Na’leen said, vehement. “It describes the Huouyt perfectly. We trade lives with other species when we change form. And we are not bloodthirsty like the Dhasha or the Jikaln. Throughout our history, there has never been a war. We don’t need to subjugate other races to thrive because we are other races. Any species out there, we can become.”
“The Dhasha?” Joe asked.
Underwater, Representative Na’leen made a face. “We can duplicate Takki genes, but it is true…the Dhasha are beyond our capabilities. They and the Jreet are some of the only ones. Our scientists believe that with the Dhasha, it is because of the chemical composition of their scales—if they are even a chemical at all. They certainly defy all logical explanation. They are almost as mysterious as an Ooreiki’s oorei.”
Joe was just starting to relax into the conversation when Representative Na’leen said, “So did Kihgl mention any of this to you, before he disappeared? It would seem…odd…that you served underneath him and he never mentioned it.”
Joe tensed all over again, not liking the way the Huouyt’s excited exuberance seemed to slough away, leaving utter, rapt attention. Almost as if it were a switch that he had flipped, a mask he’d put on to put Joe at ease.
“Uh, Kihgl didn’t say a lot,” Joe lied. “He’s an ornery old bastard.”
“Another lie!” Representative Na’leen snapped, lunging up out of the bath. At his raised voice, Joe heard the dry slither of something invisible moving closer to the central pedestal. He swallowed, hard, his eyes flickering to the corners of the empty room.
“I am your only way home, Joe Dobbs,” Representative Na’leen continued, above-water, now. His flat, fishy blue-white eyes were once again mirror-hard. “You please me and I need but say the word and you shall be escorted back to Earth with Congress’s deepest regrets.”
Joe hesitated, his heart pounding. More than anything, he wanted to go back home. He wanted to see his family. Even now, his fingers itched for the Swiss Army knife, which he had made smooth by rubbing it every night before bed as he thought of his family.
“Perhaps a few more days in that putrid air will help you remember.” Representative Na’leen flicked his paddle-shaped tentacle in an abrupt dismissal. Immediately, Joe could sense the Jreet in the room moving toward him.
“Wait,” Joe said. “He did say something.”
Na’leen’s eyes sharpened to the steely-blue edges of razors. “Tell me.”
Joe, who had been planning on telling Representative Na’leen everything about Kihgl’s odd behavior, saw something in the Huouyt’s electric gaze that made him change his mind. “He said nobody tells the Fourfold Prophecy more than once.”
“Interesting,” Representative Na’leen said. He did not sound interested. “Come back if you remember more. If your information interests me enough, I might be able to find a way to bring your illegal recruitment to light. Until then,” he motioned at the door and suddenly two massive, scarlet, serpentine Jreet appeared beside Joe, so close he could touch them, “You have a squad to command.” He said the last with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
Joe bristled with anger. The casual way Representative Na’leen dismissed the Army reminded him of adults back on Earth who had never had to sleep in a tent in their lives—people who got to take a shower every day and complained about the high price of steak when Joe’s father was writing letters in a dusty, scorpion-filled ditch and eating his meals out of a sun-baked plastic pouch.
He doesn’t want to help me, Joe realized. As soon as he gets what he wants, he’ll forget about me.
…just like Libby had tried to tell him.
Still, a part of him was screaming to tell the Huouyt everything. He wanted to go home more than anything. He knew all he had to do was tell Na’leen about Kihgl’s prophecies and Na’leen would be satisfied.
Then the two visible Jreet—which towered over him like forty-foot man-cobras with massive, diamond-shaped heads bearing those weird, ribbed hollows reminiscent of bat ears—slid into place beside the Representative’s pool and forced Joe back with the butts of their spears. As Joe was stumbling backwards, a third Jreet took him roughly by the wrist and casually yanked him away from the pool with enough brutal force to tear his arm off, had he applied a fraction of an ounce more pressure.
The Ooreiki were strong. They could do things like crush the back ends of pickup trucks and hurl two-hundred-pound men twenty feet in a fit of rage.
Yet with that one, halfhearted motion, the Jreet had made Joe’s Ooreiki kidnappers look like stunted infants in comparison.
Turning to face his new aggressor, Joe experienced an uncomfortable wave of vertigo when he stared at the place the creature should have been. He knew an alien stood there beside him, but he couldn’t see it. The invisible Jreet gave him a violent shove and propelled him down the ramp and to the door of the chamber. A moment later, another invisible fist grabbed him by the throat—swallowing his entire neck in a single scaly hand—and began dragging him through the hall. Joe, disoriented and fighting panic, stumbled in the alien’s grip, lurching through the silken drapery to the main hall, struggling to remain upright. The Jreet continued to hold him by the throat, casually towing Joe along, giving Joe no choice but to add his stumbling footsteps to the dry slithering sounds of the huge snake-body sliding on the glassy black floor directly beside and behind him.
Zol’jib was standing outside. The Huouyt made a curt sound to the invisible Jreet escorting Joe, and the scaly fist around his neck released him suddenly. The dry, whispery sound of the Jreet’s scales on glass as it moved away left Joe’s heart pounding.
They could be anywhere, he thought, his brain utterly balking at the idea that he could not see a creature obviously the size of an elephant.
“Come,” the Huouyt said sharply, making Joe jump. Zol’jib then turned and led Joe back through the lavish apartments toward the staircase. Joe’s lungs cringed once they stepped back through the doors and into the planet’s natural air. The pilot had returned with the hovercraft by the time they climbed back out onto the rooftop.
The shape to Joe’s left as he followed Zol’jib up the stairs caught his attention. A smallish Jreet was impaled, long-ways, on a stake on the roof, a pool of bluish fluid congealing beneath him. The creature’s two powerful front limbs were tied together at each joint, its head yanked back and tied to its tail, the stake protruding from its cream-colored midsection.
“Jreet are much less forgiving teachers than the Ooreiki,” Zol’jib said, noticing Joe’s stare. “Even more so than the Huouyt. That’s the one we saw earlier.”
Remembering the brief flash of red that Joe had seen on the stairs, he frowned at the tiny Jreet. “What did he do?”
Zol’jib made a dismissive gesture. “He allowed his energy shield to drop within an outsider’s vision. He was punished.”
Joe stared at the corpse contorted on the stake and swallowed hard at the Jreet idea of ‘punishment.’ “That’s…rough,” he whispered, suddenly not feeling too good about his own training.
His escort seemed unconcerned. “That’s Jreet. Be grateful Humans are too frail to serve under them.” He motioned for Joe to hurry up and follow him.
The Jreet shuddered as Joe passed.
“Is it still alive?” Joe whispered.
Zol’jib scoffed. “Of course. He can live for days like that. If he survives long enough, the Sentinels might cut him down and allow him to return to duty.” Zol’jib eyed the suffering creature
and flicked a downy, paddle-like tentacle in dismissal. “Judging by how much blood he’s already lost, though, I doubt he’ll make it.”
Joe swallowed down bile. “Why do they do that?”
Zol’jib looked unconcerned. “They’re Jreet.” As if that was the answer to everything. “Now get on the haauk. We’re distracting him. The longer we stand here, the less likely he’ll be able to save himself.”
Already hating the idea that he was partially to blame for the Jreet’s misfortune, Joe hurriedly climbed aboard the haauk, still staring at the unfortunate trainee. He could feel its small yellow eyes watching him as he departed with the Huouyt. In moments, they were out of sight, flying through the civilian side of Alishai.
The barracks appeared through the reddish haze, distinguishable from the civilian buildings by the lack of elevators running up the sides, as well as the fact it was only nine stories high when the buildings around it soared into the hundreds. No brightly-clad Ooreiki civilians ran errands along the balconies encircling it, and the only platforms nearby were the ones speeding over the top of it, going to other civilian towers.
The Huouyt lowered the ship onto the sixth story balcony.
Battlemaster Nebil saw them arrive and moved to intercept them.
“What are you doing with my recruit?” Nebil demanded of the Huouyt.
“Returning him to you,” Zol’jib said, sounding absolutely unconcerned with the shorter, stockier Ooreiki.
Battlemaster Nebil turned his sticky brown stare on Joe, but said nothing more as the Huouyt unloaded him from their craft and took back to the air. He waited until the platform had disappeared before speaking again.
