by Sara King
Libby picked up another recruit’s plasma rifle and fired it point-blank at the Jreet’s torso. The Jreet forgot about Bailey. It made another shee-whomp sound as it swiveled and slammed its fang into the recruit standing beside Libby.
The girl crumpled instantly, the plasma rifle falling from her hands. Joe dodged under the Jreet and picked it up, then tumbled out of the way as the Jreet launched itself at another recruit and disappeared again. Joe’s eyes fell to Bailey.
Bailey was still pinned by the Jreet’s weight on his biosuit. Joe lifted his rifle, making Bailey’s eyes widen. “I’ll kill you later,” Joe promised him. As Bailey gave him a look of horror, Joe shot directly at his chest.
The Jreet uncloaked and slammed its lower half into Joe, sending him sprawling. Joe scrabbled for his rifle and began firing at the creature’s throat. The massive Jreet screeched another defiant battle-cry and continued killing until the plasma ate its lower half away from its torso and its head fell from its neck. It died with its fang sunk deep into a boy’s biosuit, a pile of dead recruits scattered around it.
They were down to eight.
Libby and Rat were leading the others at the front. They were shooting down the hall, trying to hit the Huouyt who were holding their positions from behind the doors Joe did not have the codes to open. Joe fell in beside them.
Out of the corner of his eye, Joe saw Tank take a plasma round full to the chest. Tank’s eyes opened wide and he dropped his rifle in terror.
“Get your suit off!” Rat screamed.
Tank ignored her and reached into his belt. He took out a fahjli grenade and activated it. Already, his face was contorting in pain. As he threw it, his chest became an open purple wound where his biosuit should have been. Instead of bouncing down the corridor, the grenade hit the corner of the wall and bounced back at them. Libby bent down and swept it up, deftly twisting the two halves back in place before stuffing it into her boot. Tank was already dead.
“There’s too many, Joe,” Maggie said. “Take us back!”
“So they can follow us back out?” Joe demanded. “No. Everybody follow me. We’ll take a different corridor.”
“You want to go deeper?!” Bailey demanded.
“It’s either that or get shot!” Joe shouted. “We don’t have any cover and they do. Now everybody run.”
They found a corridor perpendicular to the last and took it, delving deeper into the enemy warren. Libby frowned as they retreated down the hall. “It’s almost like they’re herding us. Those Huouyt are shooting the walls more than anything.”
“Maybe that means we’re close to the bottom,” Joe said. “They could be bad shots because they’re Representative Na’leen’s secretaries, not warriors.”
Libby scowled at him. “Representative Na’leen has assassins, Joe. And Jreet can kill Dhasha. I don’t like this. We should fight our way back out, wait for Lagrah.”
Peering down the endless rows of red lights illuminating the corridors, Joe had to agree with her. His heart sank. With so few of them left—only seven, now—fighting their way back out would get them killed just as quickly as staying.
“We can’t go back,” Joe said. “We’ve got to keep going and hope Lagrah will show up with reinforcements.”
“Maybe we should surrender, Joe.”
Libby swiveled on Maggie and hit her hard, knocking the shorter girl to the ground. She was standing over Maggie in an instant, her rifle in her face, her finger touching the trigger.
“No!” Joe snapped.
Libby made a grim face, but moved away.
As Maggie stood, Joe stepped in front of her, putting his back between her and the rest of the platoon. Watching her gray eyes light up with hope, he said softly, “Mag, if you say something like that again, I’ll kill you myself.”
“But—” She looked startled, betrayed.
“Just get moving, Mag,” Joe said.
He led them on in silence, the only sound that of their boots on the hard black diamond. Every face in the group had grown older in the last two hours, and even Rat had stopped questioning him, resigned to their fate. At their backs, they heard several mechanical shee-whomps in rapid succession, spurring them forward.
We’re dead, Joe thought. I should’ve never taken us in here alone. I should’ve waited for Lagrah. All of Joe’s friends were going to die because he’d tried to prove the Trith wrong. He hesitated, wondering if he still had some way to save them.
“There’s a door open up here!” Rat cried. “Zero, a door!”
Joe jogged with Libby to inspect it. The opening was narrow enough for one person to pass, and it had an exit to another room out the back.
“Looks like a crypt,” Libby muttered.
“So we should keep going?” Joe demanded. Behind them, the Jreet were getting closer. They could hear their scales scraping on the floor.
“It might be a good place for a last stand,” she said, shrugging.
“Screw that,” Joe snapped. Still, when he looked at the straight, never-ending tunnel in front of them, he said, “Everybody get inside.” He ducked his head under the doorjamb as he ran. “Libby, watch that end.”
He was jogging to the back of the room to check to see where it led when the door began to drip shut ahead of him. A black-clad Ooreiki stood on the other side, tentacles still touching the control pad.
“No, wait!” Joe said, upon seeing the Congie uniform. The door dripped shut and stayed shut.
He wheeled at a run. “Everybody get out! They’re locking us in!”
“But—” Maggie began.
“Ash!” Bailey shouted. “Libby pushed me and ran out!”
Joe felt a flutter of fear in his gut. What if Libby had been fighting for the other side all along? Then he realized that she probably hadn’t survived the fall off the ferlii, after all. A Huouyt could have mimicked her and then come back to take her place.
Joe felt bile rising in his throat at the thought of her dead. No, he thought frantically. That was her. I’d know an impostor. So why had she abandoned them?
Violet-colored steam began seeping out of the ceiling and Joe jerked. Our own side is gassing us. “Shoot the doors!” Joe cried. “Cover your faces!”
The ragged remnants of their group huddled along the edges of the walls and fired their weapons at the two locked exits. Plasma ate the heavy material of the door, albeit too slowly to do them any good. His shirt wrapped over a hand and pressed to his face, Joe tried fiddling with the control pad on the door. Nothing worked. Yuil’s tale of simple locks and easy codes could not have been further from the truth—every door required an eighteen-digit PIN, plus a rank-scan of Overseer or higher.
Around him, his recruits were slumping over, dead or unconscious.
After repeated denials from the control panel, Joe ripped his shirt from his face and slammed his fist into the controls. “We’re on your side you son of a bitch!”
Joe thought he smelled oranges before he collapsed.
CHAPTER 38: Loyal to the End
“How many of them are there?!”
“I only see the one!”
“Well where’s the rest of them?”
“Is anyone injured?”
“Stop looking at the sky you furgs!”
“What are they firing at us?! Poison gas?”
“Suits aren’t registering it. Either he’s a kamikaze or its just smoke and lights.”
“It’s coming from that rooftop. Send someone to investigate. The rest of you, round up as many of the recruits as you can find.”
“What do we do with this one, sir?”
Stinging, python limbs reached through the broken window and tore Joe out of the bashed-in driver’s door of the Ford pickup, throwing him down on the pavement in front of one of the aliens. Joe, still stunned from colliding with the side of an apartment building without airbags, hit the concrete and he stared at the creature’s glossy black boot in a daze. He could feel the alien in charge staring down on him, could
feel the other alien’s gun brushing the back of his head, waiting to blow him away.
“Commander Lagrah?”
“How old do you think it is?”
“Sixteen, is my onboard’s guess, Commander Lagrah,” one of the glossy, black-suited aliens said. “Maybe fourteen, with growth irregularities.”
There was cruel purpose in the alien’s pale brown eyes as he said, “I’m sorry, Gokli. What did you say his age was?”
There was a long pause. “Twelve, sir.”
“Go find his friends. I want them all.”
“Yes, sir.”
“No,” Joe groaned. He tried to pull himself to his feet, but the alien in charge slammed a foot into his back, sending him back to the ground. It peered down at Joe through the obsidian suit, looking like a cold, calculating wasp. Joe groaned and closed his eyes.
“Sir? He had no accomplices, other than the one on the roof. We’re still looking for him, but the residents in this area are not cooperating.”
“He got away?”
“Yes sir.”
“They all got away? All nine hundred?”
“Yes, sir. They had some sort of locomotion planned. Hundreds of them. They scattered in all directions. High speeds.” Joe felt a wave of relief that his high school buddies had followed through and pressed his face back to the concrete. He didn’t care that the alien in charge was glaring down at him, his gun shaking as it hovered over his head. Sam was safe.
“Take him.”
“Kill him, sir?”
“Take him back to the ship.”
“To use as an Unclaimed?”
“We’ll see.”
“Why don’t you take them both, my lord?” The new voice was high-pitched, musical. Nothing at all like the raw fury in Lagrah’s voice as he ordered Gokli to take him away. Joe groaned and opened his eyes.
Representative Na’leen stood above him, though he was looking at something across the room. His cloth-of-gold cape was still in pristine condition, with the eight circles of Congress embroidered in precious metals on his chest.
“Only one has a destiny to fulfill, Zol’jib. Only one will come with me. I will not spend the rest of my life wondering which it is.”
“That won’t be long, traitor.”
Joe flinched and turned. Battlemaster Nebil hung against the wall along with a dozen other Ooreiki. His head had collapsed into his neck, leaving a shapeless brown mass protecting his eyes. Sharp hooks driven through the meat of his tentacles kept him from reaching the ground. The delicate tips, those used for grasping and manipulating objects, had been cut off. The four-pointed silver star of a battlemaster stood out on his tattered black uniform. His boots had been cut away, revealing for the first time the crude lumps of flesh Ooreiki had for feet. The pale skin there was dripping brownish fluid from numerous cuts. The Jreet responsible stood nearby, his lower body coiled beneath him, yellow eyes fixed mercilessly on Nebil.
“Your stubborn bravado is getting irritating, soldier,” Representative Na’leen snapped. “Help us or you’ll die here.”
“I’d rather lose my oorei than help a Huouyt find water.”
“That can be arranged, you stupid creature.”
Representative Na’leen was scowling at Nebil. Several Huouyt stood with him. One of them held Libby. Like Joe, they had removed her biosuit. She looked half-dead, bruised and bloody from head to toe. If her captors hadn’t been holding her up, she would have fallen. Joe felt his throat constrict upon seeing her limp and helpless in their arms. Then he realized one of her eyes was open slightly. She was watching him!
“Then arrange it and stop wasting my time.”
At Nebil’s unfavorable response, the Jreet casually lashed out, slashing a taloned claw across his chest. The four-pointed battlemaster star fell to the ground along with a strip of cloth. Nebil shuddered, but said nothing.
“Think very hard, Battlemaster,” Na’leen said. “One of these two will aid us. One of them is expendable.”
“The female is the better fighter,” one of the dozen disabled Ooreiki hanging from the wall said. The Ooreiki’s voice was familiar, one that Joe had heard a thousand times before in long, idiotic speeches. He could not believe it. Commander Tril.
“Possibly,” one of Na’leen’s assistants said. “It took six of my men to bring her here alive. She actually killed a Jreet who was not trying to be killed.”
“So take her and let us go,” Tril retorted. “We’re on your side. We hate Congress just as much as you do.”
“Tril you fire-loving Tak—” Nebil’s words ended with a grunt as the Jreet slashed him again, adding more cuts to his pale brown flesh. He was, by far, the worst off of any of the Ooreiki hanging on the wall, yet somehow he still had enough energy to curse his Jreet tormentor. Joe’s heart gave an anxious twinge.
Representative Na’leen motioned at the room. “What loyalties do you have to Congress? Were you not stolen from your home like the rest of them? Don’t you want to see Congress fall?”
“Fall where? Under Huouyt dominion?” Nebil made a throaty, toadlike laugh. “I spent forty-three years as a Prime. One of the first things I learned was to never trust a Huouyt. They have as much conscience as Takki have courage.”
Representative Na’leen’s electric-blue eyes were flat, but Joe saw the unrepressed ripple of his snowy-white cilia. “We want to create a new society,” Na’leen said.
“You want to rule a new society,” Nebil retorted. “How many of us will you care about once you reach your goals? Zero. It’s wrong. Whatever you were told, a Trith never gives the whole prophecy.”
Joe frowned at Nebil. It had almost seemed like he had been talking to Joe.
Na’leen’s downy white cilia began to move in waves across his black skin. “Those who sit around waiting for Congress to fall apart will never see it happen. You make your own futures, and damn the Trith. We’ve spent so much time waiting for their prophecies, running their little errands, praying for them to deliver us from this snare we’ve woven for ourselves that we’ve never taken the time to reach out and untie the knot.”
“And then what?” Nebil said. “You think the Jreet will follow you forever? You think the Dhasha will let you rule?”
“The Dhasha are simple,” Na’leen said. “We destroy their planets with the ekhta.” He glanced at the Jreet warrior standing beside Nebil. “As for the Jreet, they will follow whoever has the courage to lead them to victory.”
“They will follow you until you win, then they’ll abandon you to resume their old wars. The Jreet don’t need you, Na’leen. They don’t need anything except the blood of their enemies.”
“Which I will give to them, in rivers.”
“And when you become one of their enemies?”
Na’leen’s silence stretched over the room, casting it in a cold chill.
“That one will not help us,” one of the Huouyt said. “Kill him.” Joe recognized the Huouyt who had tried to claim him for Na’leen back in the barracks. His white-blue eyes were fixed coldly on Nebil.
“No, Zol’jib.” Representative Na’leen matched Nebil’s stare. “That’s what he wants. Unfortunately for him, I am not Knaaren. I do not intend to have a repeat of Kihgl. We have nanos enough to keep him alive through whatever torture we need to inflict. You may gag him if his noise bothers you.”
Joe’s heart began to pound as he watched Nebil stiffen.
He’s protecting me. Joe felt a rush of gratitude and shame. He’s protecting me and I’m just sitting here. His stomach began to ache with fear. Hadn’t the Trith warned him against fighting his destiny? Wasn’t that why Scott was dead? Because he didn’t go talk to the rebel in the road when he was supposed to? Hadn’t fate simply twisted things around so he was right where he would have been even if he had boarded that ship, except now most of his platoon was dead? What choice did he have, if everything he ever did would bring him the same result? He had to help Na’leen or more of his friends would die.
“It’s me. The Trith said so.” As soon as he said the words, Joe knew he could never take them back. He looked away from Nebil’s searing glance and faced Na’leen.
“So.” Representative Na’leen gave him a weighing look. “Perhaps he finally remembered his conversations with Kihgl?”
“A Trith visited me. Told me I would shatter Congress.”
Every alien in the room stiffened, Huouyt and Ooreiki alike.
“And what,” Representative Na’leen said very carefully, “else did the Trith tell you, boy? What were your four prophecies?”
Joe frowned. “He only gave me one.”
Several of the Huouyt went utterly still and glanced at each other, and the Ooreiki prisoners’ sudah fluttered rapidly in their wrinkled brown necks. No one said a word.
“But it doesn’t matter, because Bagkhal and Commander Lagrah are going to rip you ashers apart,” Joe added.
“Bagkhal and Commander Lagrah are dead,” the Huouyt holding Libby said. “Bagkhal is a pretty new comet and I killed Lagrah myself, before he ever had a chance to board the shuttle. I left the body in an air duct. They’ll find it a few days from now, when it begins to stink. Not that it will make any difference. We’ll be controlling Kophat by then.” As Zol’jib spoke the last, he touched something to the wormy red appendage in his face and his body began to darken and shift, the coating of cilia tugging inward, his body growing stockier and more compact.
A moment later, Commander Lagrah stood where the assassin had been, his scarred chest and shoulders still loosely draped with the cloth-of-silver of Representative Na’leen’s staff. Joe was looking upon the same creature who had urged him to take his friends down this dungeon in the first place.
Joe felt like he’d been punched. “You never let those platoons out of the eighth level, did you?” Joe asked quietly.
“Of course not,” the assassin in Lagrah’s body said. “They were still loyal to Congress. We’d just have to kill them later.”
