by Sara King
#
It was a stalemate.
With Joe leading them, Sixth Battalion was finally holding its own. But then, so was Rat. Neither battalion, when it was on offense, could get past the tunnel entrances.
Everyone was getting frustrated.
Joe was sitting outside the barracks, picking at the inside of his headcom as he waited for Battlemaster Aneeir to bring his groundteam down for breakfast, when Nebil stopped beside him.
“What are you doing, Zero?”
“Bagkhal’s finished with me for tonight,” Joe said. “I’m waiting for Aneeir to wake up the platoon for today’s hunt.”
“I meant with your headcom.”
Joe glanced down at the thing in his hands and he winced. As he’d been sitting there, he’d absently pried up some of the padding. He quickly mashed it back down. “Nothing, sir.”
Nebil turned to go.
The thought that had nagging at Joe for days broke to the surface and he cleared his throat. “Battlemaster?”
Nebil turned back. “What?”
“Is there some way to make a headcom broadcast to someone not on my team?”
The Ooreiki’s gummi eyes narrowed instantly. “Like who?”
Joe bit his lip. “Like Second Battalion?”
Battlemaster gave him a cold, hard look. “Now why in the ashy hells would you want to talk to the enemy, Zero?”
“I don’t wanna talk to them,” Joe said. “I want them to hear me talk.”
For a long moment, Battlemaster Nebil simply stared at him and Joe knew he was about to get clobbered. Then, without another word, Nebil simply walked off.
In formation that afternoon, Nebil surprised them by telling them that, starting that afternoon, recruits would vote for their recruit battlemasters. The ceremony turned out to be relatively simple, except when the kids forgot who was in their platoon.
“Anyone says Zero again and I’m going to choke the living soot out of him!” Nebil screamed. “Pick someone in your platoon, you Takki bastards!”
Maggie was grinning when Nebil stormed up to her. “You! Are you amused by this, recruit? Is there something funny about this situation that I somehow missed?”
“No, Battlemaster!” Her words came out in a giggle.
“Really? Because I thought I saw you with a big, stupid grin on your face. Did your groundmate have a big, stupid grin on her face, Zero?”
“I didn’t see one, Battlemaster!”
“Then that makes you a liar, doesn’t it, Zero? Unless I misunderstood my lessons in Human anatomy, a big, stupid grin means that she thought something was funny.”
“Must have misunderstood your lessons, sir,” Joe said, deadpan.
Nebil’s pupils narrowed to slits. “You must enjoy emptying chamber pots.”
Joe winced. He was pretty sure Congressional technology had ways to disintegrate bodily waste, but no. The Ooreiki saved it to use as punishment.
Nebil went back to haranguing the platoons into choosing their leaders. When their turn came, every single recruit in Joe’s platoon voted for him. As he stood there, stunned, he realized that Libby and all of his groundmates were grinning.
When the ceremony was over, Nebil returned to the front of the battalion. “We’ve got another hunt tomorrow! Second Battalion’s defending, so you Takki have the black. Bagkhal will be watching again, so make it look good! For the rest of the day, I want all of you to rest up for the hunt. Let’s show our new commander what we can do, for once! Dismissed. Except you, Zero. You stay.”
Grimacing, Joe waited while rest of the battalion departed, wondering which set of chores it would be tonight.
“Tomorrow,” Nebil said, shoving a headcom at him, “you’re going to try something different with that fire-loving Jreet Lagrah. We’re upping the ante, boy.” Nebil and Lagrah, Joe had discovered, were both former long-term Planetary Ops veterans, and the two of them had begun a gentlemen’s game of ‘Screw The Other Asher’ and Second and Sixth battalions were quickly becoming pawns in a superior-officer grudge-match.
“We…are?” Joe asked, gingerly taking the headcom.
“Something I learned in Planetary Ops,” Nebil said. “All headcoms have the capacity to transmit on all frequencies. It’s an internal governor and battery limitations that keep them in check. Your PPU, on the other hand…” Battlemaster Nebil brought out an utterly demolished PPU and handed it to him, “…has a battery that could power a cruise-ship.”
Staring down at them, Joe realized that he was looking at his PPU and his headcom. He felt a cold wave of dread.
“Lagrah rigged the haauks to fail on our last hunt and we got dumped a mile off course, so we didn’t have enough time to fully entrench ourselves before Second arrived,” Nebil said.
Joe frowned. He had been wondering why the Ooreiki had made them all walk to the tunnels.
“He wants to use dirty tricks?” Nebil went on. “Two can play at that game. Everything you say will now be heard by both Sixth and Second Battalions. If anyone asks, your PPU accidentally got smashed and certain parts accidentally wound up on the internal workings of the headcom.” With that, he turned to go.
“Wait!” Joe cried. He stared at the headcom in his hands, suddenly feeling like it was a poisonous, fire-breathing snake. “They can hear me? Everything? Isn’t that a bad thing?” The last thing he wanted Second to do was to hear him give all of his commands. “I meant just something I could turn on and off, you know?”
Nebil gave him a long, flat stare.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Joe demanded. “How am I supposed to lead the battalion if they can hear me?”
“Figure it out,” Nebil said. “I’m supplying accidents. Not a replacement for a small simian brain.” Then he turned and left Joe there, anxiously staring at his dismantled gear.
That evening, after Aneeir locked up the barracks, Joe brought out his headcom and showed it to his friends. “Nebil said Second would be able to hear me tomorrow,” Joe said, after they had hissed at the damage done to it. “Maybe we could use that.”
Libby gave his headcom a dubious look. “You want them to hear you giving commands on the hunt?”
“I dunno,” Joe said, still perplexed by Nebil’s all-out ruining of his helmet. “Maybe you could lead this hunt, Libby. I could be a decoy. Give them all the wrong ideas.”
Libby snorted. “Rat’s not stupid. She’ll see nobody’s listening to you.”
“You got a better idea?” Joe demanded. “I’d like to make it count, ‘cause I think they’re gonna take the headcom from me as soon as they figure out what Nebil did to it, and Aneeir’s gonna really thrash me for that PPU. Take a look. Nebil ripped it apart.”
Libby fell into a mournful silence when Joe brought out the ruined PPU. “Damn,” she muttered. “So how the hell do we fight like this? We need you, Joe.”
It was Scott who said, “Well, soot, I got an idea, Joe.” He was still frowning at Joe’s headcom. “Why don’t we make the whole battalion a decoy?”
#
The plaza was alive with the roar of bored recruits. Sixth Battalion wore black and nearby, dressed in white, Second was waiting for its pickup.
“You ready, Joe?” Scott whispered.
Joe nodded. He slipped his headcom over his skull and said, “…well, sure, but girls don’t really know what a guy wants in bed. I’d take guy-on-guy action over a girl any day.”
The plaza suddenly went silent.
Joe blundered on, “Besides, guys are just downright sexier. That Tank guy, especially. He’s a burning stud. Have you seen those pecs? Who’d you rather be lookin’ up at, I mean really?”
“I dunno,” Libby said. “I kind of like Rat.”
Joe froze, trying to figure out if she was serious. Libby winked.
Clearing his throat, Joe said, “Yeah, I guess she’s okay. We’re gonna kick her ass today, though. I’ve got it all planned out. They’ll totally never--goddamn, this thing’s been giving me a hea
dache ever since Maggie threw it off the balcony. Ash. Thanks a lot, Mag.” He wrenched his headcom off and glared down at it. Behind him, Second Battalion was riveted in place, staring in his direction. Rat was leaning forward, waiting for him to say more. Joe sat down and rested his headcom on a knee.
“I think it’s working,” Scott said, grinning as he sat down beside him. “They’re all staring at you, Joe.”
“Yeah.” Joe could feel them. “My back’s itching like hell.”
The defenders left first to go prepare the tunnels for invaders.
When Aneeir came to get the platoon with the attackers’ haauk, Joe and Libby held back, waiting to board until very last. Then Aneeir lifted off and they were skimming down the road, toward the hunt. Scott and Carl stood directly behind Aneeir, so when they got into a shoving match, they almost bumped him off the haauk.
“What in the Jreet hells?!” Aneeir snapped, rounding on them. “What are you sootbags doing?!”
Scott was amazingly red-faced, considering they had planned it out the night before. “I want a different squad,” Scott said. “I can’t stand being in the same one with this redneck asher any longer. I saw him screwing a Takki the other day, just like his dog back when he lived in Alabama.”
Carl threw down his headcom and the two of them got into an all-out brawl, assisted by half the platoon. Caught in the middle of it, Aneeir never saw Libby get on her stomach. Then, with a grin at Joe, she rolled under the gate and off the back of the haauk, alone. When the Ooreiki finally got the platform moving again, he was furious, cursing them with a mastery of Congie that even Linin would have found impressive.
“Main force is following at a run,” Libby said, once they were out of sight.
“All right,” Joe said. “Everyone stick to the plan. The decoy will attempt to draw their attention while the main force makes a tunnel incursion. The decoy’s gotta make it look real, though, so don’t do anything stupid. Got it?”
Every kid standing on the haauk nodded while Aneeir drove on, oblivious.
“Okay,” Joe said, seeing the clearing ahead of them. “We’re coming up on the dropoff. Everyone get ready. Decoy, get ready to do your thing.”
When Aneeir set them down, they all hurdled the railing of the haauk, having long ago learned that to wait to file out the back was to get shot by Second Battalion snipers. While Joe and the rest of Sixth Battalion secured a corner of the battlefield, Scott, Carl, Maggie, and four other members of their squad crept across the field, keeping low to avoid being seen. When they were in position, Scott said, “Ready.”
“How are we doing?” Joe asked.
“Main force selected a tunnel,” Libby said. “Waiting on decoy.”
“Go, Scott,” Joe said. “Main force is waiting on you.”
Moments later, Joe heard the sucking thwap of gunfire. He waited several minutes, then said, “Main force, go!” He lunged up and raced across the battlefield, jumping into a deep den tunnel and opening fire on the defenders inside. The rest of Sixth Battalion followed, and they pushed deeper, allowing Second Battalion to close them in from behind.
“They’ve got us surrounded,” Joe said. “Everyone dig in. Main force has still got a chance.”
“Affirmative,” Libby said. “They haven’t seen me yet.”
Joe had the rest of Sixth Battalion make a wall of bodies blocking either end of the tunnel and they hunkered down inside. There they sat. For hours.
“Real brilliant plan, Zero,” Rat called from somewhere deeper in the tunnel. “A burning frontal assault. How stupid can you get? Your decoy’s all dead and your main force is pinned. You might as well give up now.”
“Main force needs a distraction,” Libby said. “Looking at the flag and two defenders right now. Rest of groundteam got called back. Rat’s going to blitz you.”
Hunkered against the wall of bodies, Joe nodded at the remnants of Sixth Battalion. “All right, main force, here we go.” He leapt up and led Sixth Battalion in an all-out charge toward the deep den, screaming every command he knew.
Despite the confusion Joe broadcasted over the headcom, the fighting was intense. His comrades began dropping all around him, and Joe began to worry that he’d been premature in making his charge. The attackers kept dwindling, with white hitting them from both directions.
Then Joe and Rat were face to face. Rat was grinning. She raised her rifle. Joe was grappling with another defender, unable to lift his weapon. “You’re such a furg, Zero,” Rat laughed. “Next time bring your diapers.”
Then Libby said, “Main force is on the surface. Got the flag in my hand.”
Joe grinned as Rat shot him in the face.
#
When the medics revived them, Nebil immediately gave the entire battalion two whole days off. Halfway through the second day, when they entered the chow hall, their tables were laid out with hot platters of roast beef and turkey, still steaming from the oven. Buckets sat beside the trays, filled to the brim with mashed potatoes and gravy. Macaroni and cheese lay piled behind those, and milk and apple juice shared table space with more alcohol and candy than Joe had ever seen in his life.
Before he allowed them to sit down, Battlemaster Nebil made them recite the Groundteam Prayer. Joe held hands with the others and recited it with the others, his eyes as wide as theirs as he stared at the feast before them.
“I am a grounder. This is my groundmate. Apart, we are nothing. Together, we are a groundteam. I will never abandon my groundteam and my groundteam will never abandon me. I will live with my groundmates, fight with my groundmates, and when I die, my essence will be carried on by my surviving groundmates. I will obey the commands of my ground leader without question. I am a grounder.”
“Enjoy, you Takki bastards,” Nebil said. “Prince Bagkhal thought you should have a reward for whipping Second. It was a real pain in the ass to get it, too. The Training Committee wouldn’t pay for it, so your overseer provided it out of his own pocket. I’m not going to even try to explain to you how much that costs.”
Battlemaster Nebil started to leave, then turned back with a dubious look at the vodka and whiskey. “Oh, and watch how much of that stuff you drink. It is said that this is what Humans use to celebrate, but from everything I’ve read, it has some extremely undesirable aftereffects. So imbibe your spoils in moderation. I’m putting you back to work tomorrow whether your head hurts or not. Got it?!”
Nine hundred kids shouted, “Kkee, Battlemaster!”
“Keep them in line, Zero,” Nebil snapped.
“Kkee, Battlemaster,” Joe replied.
Grunting, Nebil gave them all one last, long look, then left.
The next morning, Joe could barely move without vomiting. It had been his first taste of alcohol and Joe, like every other kid there, drank himself stupid before he’d realized what he’d done. He had taken a brief detour on his way to the chow hall to puke in privacy when a shadow made him glance up from the diamond gravel. Joe swallowed down bile, hoping it wasn’t a battlemaster.
It wasn’t. The creature had tiny limbs, its spindly legs looking utterly incapable of holding up the rest of its mass. Its skin was pale and gray, its head impossibly huge and egg-shaped, its mouth a tiny button in an invisible chin. It was the eyes, though, that made Joe stop breathing. They were utterly black, showing not a gleam of wetness. Peering into them was like peering into the night sky, one swept clean of stars, leaving just the void.
It’s a Trith. His skin became awash in hard, painful goosebumps. Joe scuttled backwards on his hands, staring up at the thing in horror.
The Trith took a step towards him, focused on his face. Joe Dobbs. Son of Harold, brother of Sam. As all creatures dance on the strings of Fate, so shall you.
Joe’s mouth fell open. The thought had not been his own.
Your future has been written. The Trith’s midnight eyes continued to hold his, drawing him in like black wells of gravity. Your life will follow the path it was given. Joe felt himself losi
ng his sense of self, becoming a part of the creature in front of him, completely helpless to stop it. Eventually, you must face your destiny. The gravity wells of the Trith’s eyes tugged him deeper, surrounding and crushing him on all sides, reducing him to a pinprick of light in a mass of inky blackness. For Fate decided you will shatter Congress, Joe.
As the endless black pits of the Trith’s eyes became Joe’s whole world, he had the utterly humbling knowledge that he was just a tiny speck in a universe, his existence insignificant in the face of the bigger picture. Fate decided you will shatter Congress, Joe, the Trith repeated, like a gong going off inside eternity. Joe felt the Void closing in on him, assailing him from all sides, its sheer vastness threatening to stamp out the tiny speck that was himself.
Heavy silence reigned absolute after the Trith’s final words, and Joe panicked, lost in the unyielding, inky depths that surrounded him. For long moments, Joe felt nothing, saw nothing, experienced nothing but his own terror. Then, into the darkness, the Trith spoke again.
You will try to fight it, but invariably, your path will lead to the same end.
Then Joe’s paralysis broke and the Trith was gone.
CHAPTER 34: Visions of Trith
Weeks later, on his way to Prince Bagkhal’s chambers, Joe glared up at the brightly-clothed Ooreiki going about their business in the ferlii towers. Not a single one wore black. Instead, they wore Dhasha scales, long strings of glittering beads, flowing red and yellow and pink cloth, elegant fringed scarves and sashes, ornamental headdresses, spined blue plumes, runed bones, vibrant silken gauzes, crystals, precious metals, and even peacock feathers.
I’ll bet they have flushing toilets, Joe thought disgustedly as he walked. The pampered bastards.
Staring up at them, Joe realized Yuil wasn’t any different. She doesn’t know what we have to go through. She’s got her plush room, her fancy equipment and her soft clothes… She doesn’t know what it’s like to breathe diamond dirt while trying not to get shot, or what it’s like to die every other day, just to be brought back to life so we can do it again the next time. She’s like all the rest—she’s soft.
