by Sara King
Prince Bagkhal gave an impressed snort. “That problem?”
Intensely embarrassed, Joe began to thoroughly scrutinize the claw-marks in the floor near his feet. He nodded.
“Well, good for you.” Moving to the table, Bagkhal nodded at the reddish-brown vial lying on the table beside him. “Your drugs came in. Drink that.”
Grateful for the distraction, Joe went to examine the vial. “Looks like coffee sludge,” he noted.
The big Dhasha returned to his gelatinous mat nearby, the gaping ‘wounds’ that his jet black claws left in it quickly sealing shut after a couple seconds. “It’s a powerful mental stimulant that commands ridiculous prices on the open market from politicians and businessmen throughout Congress. We’ll have to monitor your consumption and make sure you don’t form an addiction.”
“So…coffee sludge.” Joe uncapped the vial and took a whiff. Immediately, he recoiled. “This smells like pig vomit!”
“Then perhaps Congress should invest in some pigs,” Bagkhal said flatly. “This stuff costs three thousand credits a batch. Drink it.”
Joe took another whiff and wrinkled his nose. “Am I going to have to do this every night?”
“Only every six or so. You’ll know when it’s time—you usually fall asleep where you stand.”
Grimacing, Joe said, “So this stuff is induced narcolepsy?”
“Only if you don’t dose yourself fast enough.”
Joe grunted and scowled at the vial. I can’t not drink it. Not after he already helped Libby. Closing his eyes, he put the vial to his lips and tipped it back.
It burned on the way down, but other than that, he felt fine.
Then he felt more than fine. Everything suddenly came into focus. The leftover exhaustion from his constant running fled him in an instant. He was as wide awake as he’d ever been, and not the least bit jittery.
“I think it works,” Joe said, staring at the vial in astonishment. “Whoa. You know, if I had this stuff in school, I probably would’ve been able to read Shakespeare without passing out.”
“Excellent. Just for safety’s sake, though, pick up that ring and slip it on a finger. Medical would like to monitor your life-signs for the next day or so, as you’re the first Human test subject.”
That didn’t sound good.
Nervous, Joe went to the table and slipped a rubbery orange ring over a gleaming black finger. It reminded him of the akarit and he winced, feeling a little guilty for his duplicity. He kind of liked the Dhasha.
Prince Bagkhal was watching him. Something in the Dhasha’s gaze made Joe blush and look at the floor. “So how do you like your suit?” Bagkhal asked.
“It’s okay,” Joe said. “It sucks we’re gonna have to wear them for three days.”
“Something I see you’re already having problems with.” The Dhasha shifted, leaning one shoulder against the wall. “So, what did the recruits think of my new rules?”
“We honestly should’ve had them a long time ago,” Joe said.
“Good.”
Joe gingerly looked around. He couldn’t see any slaves or grooming bars or hook-shaped tooth picks. “So what’s my job for the day? Err…night? Hell, this place has got ashy daylight cycles anyway. How am I gonna tell night from day anymore if I can’t sleep?”
“Keep track of the time,” Bagkhal said. “As for your duties, I have an errand for you to run. I would like you to arrange a meeting between myself and the Huouyt Representative. He’s been on this planet much too long and it’s making me suspicious. The first thing a wise soldier learns is never trust a Huouyt. The second thing he learns is to never trust a Huouyt on a planet with an ekhta. They are spies, assassins, saboteurs, thieves, and very, very good liars. The whole species should be destroyed.”
Coming from a Dhasha, that was saying something.
Then Joe realized what Bagkhal had said, and felt himself pale. “You mean Na’leen’s still here?”
Too late, Joe realized a recruit should have no knowledge of a Representative’s affairs. It was the same as an amoeba knowing the comings and goings of an eagle. Apparently, Bagkhal realized that, too, because the prince cocked his head at him and was silent for too long. “How do you know of Representative Na’leen, Zero?” His words were much too casual.
Joe swallowed hard, pinned by that predatory stare. “He…wanted to…interview me…about Kihgl.”
The Dhasha continued to give him a long, piercing look. “And why would you know anything about Commander Kihgl?”
“Ummm,” Joe managed.
Bagkhal got off his mat and took a step forward, head lowered, so that their eyes were almost on level. “I chose this regiment because I heard what Knaaren did to my old friend. I got here as fast as I could. Knaaren was shipped to Levren without his talons or scales. I removed them myself. You understand what that means, for a Dhasha?”
Joe could guess. He swallowed, hard.
“Why,” Bagkhal rumbled, lowering his head further, until his lips were almost touching Joe’s abdomen and their eyes were level, “would Representative Na’leen wish to interview you about Kihgl?” The intensity of the ka-par was back.
Joe cringed. “He gave me his kasja. Before he…died.”
Bagkhal twitched. It seemed like an eternity that Bagkhal just stared at him. Then, very slowly, Bagkhal said, “You’re the reason he’s dead.” There was no malice to his words, but Joe’s guts twisted in fear anyway.
Bagkhal examined him a moment longer, then twisted to glance up the stairs at the exit of the room. A moment later, he once again pinned Joe with his gaze. “Na’leen approached you. When?”
Though he knew his very life danced on his next words, Joe found it impossible to lie. “The night after the Tribunal’s inspection,” he said
Bagkhal’s gaze sharpened. “What did he want?”
Trying not to tremble, Joe said, “He wanted to know if Kihgl said anything to me about the Fourfold Prophecy.”
“Did he?” Bagkhal barked.
Though his every instinct screamed at him to lie, Joe whispered, “Yes.”
Bagkhal gave him a long, piercing look, then swiveled and stalked across the room. He paced for several minutes, with no sound except the grinding-tinkle of his claws sinking into the floor, breaking chunks of stone loose in his passage.
Finally, Bagkhal swung back to face Joe and said, “It was not your testimony that condemned him. Your name was never even mentioned in the Peacemakers’ logs. How much did you tell Na’leen?”
Joe swallowed, remembering Battlemaster Aneeir’s warning about Dhasha talons ripping through biosuits. “I told him that Kihgl said that nobody tells the Fourfold Prophecy more than once.”
Bagkhal froze, giving him an acute look. “That’s all?”
Joe nodded.
“Was he satisfied with that?”
Remembering the cold way the Representative had dismissed him, Joe shook his head.
Sharply, Bagkhal snapped, “Was there more Kihgl told you, boy?”
“He said…” Joe swallowed, so scared he was shaking.
“Tell me!” Bagkhal barked.
“That it was my life or his oorei,” Joe whimpered. Something about the Dhasha prince did not allow for evasion or half-truths.
“And he chose for you to live. Why?”
“He said he had hope the Trith was right,” Joe whispered. “Something about the fall of Congress.”
Bagkhal gave him a long, piercing look. “Well, at least you’re not a total furg.” He let out a huge sigh and lowered his head disgustedly between his front legs. “Damn.”
“What does that mean?” Joe asked, hating the way his voice cracked.
Bagkhal snorted. “It means nothing. The Trith make everyone else dance to their whims like puppets on a string. They never give the whole prophecy, and their words are self-fulfilling.” He gave Joe another long, hard look. “Have you told anyone else what you just told me?”
“Not exactly.”
&nbs
p; “Not exactly?” Bagkhal roared.
“I think Nebil knows,” Joe cried. “He asked me in private one day if Kihgl had talked to me about the Trith.”
“When?!” Bagkhal demanded. “How recently? Where?!”
“Back on the ship,” Joe whimpered.
Bagkhal seemed to hesitate. “What ship?”
“Coming from Earth,” Joe managed. “Please, I’m sorry.”
“The troopship,” Bagkhal clarified. “Before you met Na’leen.”
“Yes,” Joe managed, the Dhasha’s harshness returning him to the instinctual terror that Knaaren had etched into his being.
Bagkhal seemed to relax entirely. He gave Joe a long look, then softly said, “Calm down, Human. I’m not going to hurt you.” He almost sounded…apologetic.
Joe let out a sob of relief and clung to the table, his legs going weak. He could only nod in gratitude.
“Sit down,” the Dhasha prince commanded him gently. He padded to the far wall and sat down, facing him. “I’ll keep my distance. Tell me the rest.”
Joe gratefully sank into the chair. “It was a stupid mark on my arm. One of my groundmates got bored and started drawing on me with markers. It looked a lot like the image the Trith had given Kihgl.”
“Looked like or was?”
Joe swallowed hard, remembering. “Was,” he admitted softly.
Bagkhal grunted. “What else?”
There wasn’t much to tell. Joe shakily recounted everything he knew. “…When we got to Kophat, Kihgl took me out to the practice flats to kill me. But he decided not to. Gave me his kasja, to show Nebil his decision. Nebil made me wear it, instead.”
“And where is the kasja now?” Bagkhal demanded.
“Nebil has it,” Joe said. “Tril made me take it off.”
“As he should have,” Bagkhal growled. “You didn’t earn it.”
“Nebil made me,” Joe babbled, sweating inside the biosuit. “I didn’t want to, but he wanted me to—”
“Recognize Kihgl’s sacrifice,” Bagkhal interrupted. “I understand.” He snorted deeply and turned to stare at the far wall, seemingly lost in thought. Eventually, he turned back to Joe and said, “You realize it is my duty to kill you, right, Zero?”
Joe swallowed convulsively. “Why?”
“Because,” Bagkhal growled, “apparently the Trith are interested in you. If they’ve tied you to the fall of Congress, that’s bad. A Trith cannot lie—because of what they are, it destroys them.” He sighed and idly began raking up bits of gravel with his talons. “They don’t, however, have to tell the whole prophecy. Which allows them to make the future, because idiots like Na’leen get involved, led around by their snouts like a harnessed Takki.”
Joe lowered his head, the slick heat of his sweat warming his skin under the biosuit.
“Don’t worry,” Bagkhal said. “Kihgl went a little insane after the Trith’s visit and I decided to do some research of my own. After all, who can tell a Dhasha prince what to do?”
Not very many, Joe thought. He still felt like pissing himself, just from the alien’s proximity, all the way across the room.
“As it turns out,” Bagkhal continued with a grunt, “the future is not a stagnant image, as everyone assumes. It’s all probabilities. Computers could guess the future to extreme degrees of accuracy, if we ever made one powerful enough. Yet each sentient creature our Creator put in this playground we call Life maintains its free will. He can choose. Even a damned Takki has free will. They just choose not to use it.” Muttering, he continued gouging stone from the floor. “But the future is just that—probabilities. It can change. That the Trith have tied you to the fall of Congress merely means that the probability is that you will have a hand in it. Which means it’s coming in your lifetime.”
Eventually, Bagkhal stopped and got back to his feet. “The Trith are going to visit you, Joe. When they do, punch them in the face for me.” He made an irritated snort. “Until then, go schedule that meeting with Na’leen on my behalf. His continued presence is annoying.”
Joe flinched. “I don’t know if I should do that…” What will he do when he finds out how Na’leen tried to claim me?
“Your very first day and you tell me to get somebody else?” Prince Bagkhal demanded, irritation thick in his voice.
“I’ll do it,” Joe said quickly.
Bagkhal grunted. “While you’re there,” he continued, “tell him I know why he’s been making friends on the Training Committee. Now go. All this talk of Trith and Huouyt is making me angry.”
Indeed, drops of neon orange spittle were spattering the ebony floor.
All the way to the Representative’s tower, Joe wondered what Bagkhal would do to him if he found out about Kihgl and Yuil’s rebels. The great Dhasha had claimed to have been a friend of Kihgl, yet something told Joe that Bagkhal would slaughter him, Yuil, and every other rebel in an instant, the moment he found out what Joe had been doing in his off-time. The thought was enough to make his palms sweaty on his walk to Representative Na’leen’s tower.
At the base of Na’leen’s edifice, a lone Huouyt stood guarding a single elevator. At Joe’s approach, he didn’t even appear to show any interest at all.
“I have a message for Representative Na’leen,” Joe said, once he got within talking range.
The Huouyt looked him up and down. “From who?” The disdain in the alien’s words was enough to make Joe bristle.
“Prince Bagkhal,” Joe said.
The Huouyt showed no reaction whatsoever. The downy white cilia covering his body remained as stagnant as death. For a long moment, the Huouyt said nothing. Then, “Climb on.” He backed into the elevator and allowed Joe to enter.
Joe stepped onto the platform and the Huouyt pressed the button. For what must have been close to thirty minutes, Joe rode from the base of the tower to the top-floor penthouse overlooking the city, enduring the Huouyt’s flat, fishy stare the entire way. Two more Huouyt met them at the top, and they escorted Joe from the top of the elevator to the blessedly fresh air inside the first set of heavy doors. The masses of treasure had been removed, the remnants tastefully used to decorate the outer chamber. Only the golden statue of the Representative remained in place.
Then invisible hands grabbed Joe by the back of the shirt and dragged him through the lavish passageways, back to the room with the pool.
“Speak,” Representative Na’leen said once Joe had been shown to his chambers by the rough hands of Jreet. He was in his water-bath again, the wormy red appendage blossoming under the surface.
“Prince Bagkhal would like to meet with you,” Joe said.
“Would he,” Representative Na’leen said, sounding completely unconcerned. “How interesting. Tell him I’m busy.” He plucked another gelatinous disc from his dish and dropped it into the wriggling worms in his head. “Take him away, please.”
Immediately, invisible Jreet hands grabbed him again and started to drag him from the pool. The exchange had lasted no more than fifteen seconds.
“He knows why you’ve been making friends on the Training Committee!” Joe cried, terrified that his very first task in Bagkhal’s service would end in total failure.
“It’s a politician’s job to make friends.” As the Jreet hesitated, the Huouyt sat up from his bath and stared at Joe with its huge, eerie, electric-blue eyes. The wormy appendages in his forehead immediately began retracting back into his head. “Tell him that. Also tell him that a member of the Tribunal does not caper to the whims of a mere Secondary Overseer and his Human pet.”
Joe stared. Bagkhal’s an Overseer?
“Why is he still here?” Na’leen demanded. “Get rid of him.”
Joe bit his lip. Bagkhal was not going to like his message. As the Jreet began to tug him away, the Huouyt said, “Wait. You are the recruit they call Zero, aren’t you?”
Grimacing, Joe nodded.
“Have you remembered anything about Kihgl’s prophecy yet, boy?”
Joe
swallowed, hard. “No sir. I told you what he told me.”
The Huouyt gave him a flat stare. “On second thought, tell your Prince I will meet with him.” The Representative stood, his metallic clothing dripping into the vat beneath him. “I hear Bagkhal is as much of a loyalist as they come. He personally executed the last traitor he found in his ranks. Him, and all of his friends.” He flipped a wet, paddle-shaped tentacle at Joe. “But I’m busy for the next week or two. I’ll have one of my assistants meet him with the date and time sometime tomorrow.”
Joe forced himself to smile. “He’ll be glad to hear it.”
He was shaking on his ascent back to Bagkhal’s tower. How much did Na’leen know? Had he been here the whole time, investigating? Had he had one of his assassins follow Joe when he went with Yuil? Is that why he hadn’t had Joe killed yet? Because he was leading them deeper into the enemy’s ranks?
He was in a cold sweat by the time he got back to Bagkhal.
“Well? What did the vaghi Huouyt have to say?”
“He’ll meet with you,” Joe said. “He’ll send one of his assistants to discuss the date tomorrow.”
“Assistants.” Bagkhal snorted. “You have a lot to learn, Zero.” He indicated the table with his head. “Now, grab the infopad and take a seat. I have dictations.”
Joe spent the rest of the night aiding Bagkhal in reviewing information from the regiment and taking notes on training expectations. These he delivered to the Battalion Commanders, who were as wide awake as he was in their apartments, writing reports on little pads. When Bagkhal was finished with him for the night, Joe wanted to go to Yuil’s meeting-place and tell her to be careful, but knew, after the day’s events, he’d only be putting her in more danger.
Joe’s heart began to pound as he stared out toward the empty building on the edge of Alishai. If they found Yuil, they’d arrest Joe. Unless they were using him to get at someone bigger. Who was Yuil working for? As of yet, the Ooreiki hadn’t said.
“I wish I could help you,” Joe said to the empty sky. If Yuil got caught, it would be Joe’s fault. Joe had led Na’leen to the Ooreiki. Just like Elf.
With no response except the eerie howl of ferlii-wind on the buildings around him, Joe returned to the barracks.
