by Sara King
“I didn’t,” Joe said. “I scrambled it.”
She laughed. “Really? Why?”
“Because I spent the last two weeks AWOL, drinking myself into a stupor in every bar I came across.”
Maggie flashed him an irritated look. “I’ll have someone replace your tag for you.”
“How about you let me out of this containment field before I cut off an elbow,” Joe said pleasantly.
“I want to make sure I have your complete attention,” Maggie said, through a forced smile.
“Actually, it’s the proximity of the energy field to my ass that’s got my complete attention.”
“The Dhasha Vahlin is on Neskfaat, Joe.”
Joe yanked his eyes away from the glowing blue-black containment field to stare at her. The Huouyt had been telling the truth?
Maggie saw the shock in his face and nodded. “The Vahlin exists. And Bagkhal took up arms with him. Against Congress.”
Joe felt the breath slip out of his lungs. “Bagkhal?”
His mentor. His friend. The only decent Dhasha that Joe had ever known. The only one who had looked at Joe and seen anything other than food. Joe had served under him as a recruit on Kophat, then again as an Overseer on Eeloir. Joe would have given his life for him.
Maggie seemed to find his reaction amusing. “Bagkhal and a hundred and thirty-three other princes. Each one with dozens of side-dens, thousands of followers, and millions of Takki. They’re carving out a section of space as we speak.”
“Bagkhal defected?”
“Every Dhasha within that sector defected. They’ve got a ban on all Dhasha travel in the area, but some of them are still getting to Neskfaat anyway. Their numbers increase with every day we wait.”
“Bagkhal wouldn’t defect.”
Maggie’s reply was a smug smile. “Your pet Dhasha commandeered the ship that was taking him to his next assignment. Forced the pilot to set him down on Neskfaat. Then he killed everyone on board.”
“He wouldn’t defect.”
“We found his ship last week when we began maintaining surface superiority on Neskfaat,” Maggie said. She leaned back against her desk, watching him. “Search and rescue teams took vidchips of Bagkhal killing the crew off the ship’s security systems. Scale patterns match Bagkhal’s.”
Joe let out a breath. “We’re so burned.”
“Excuse me?”
“Who’s the Vahlin?” Joe said. “How did he get someone like Bagkhal to fight for him?”
“You know the legend.”
“He’s a reincarnate of the warlord that first subjugated the Takki,” Joe said. “Destined to free the Dhasha from their ‘servitude.’ How about you let me out of this cage now?”
“Why?” Maggie laughed, plucking a cherry from the bowl on her desk and popping it into her mouth. Spitting out the seed into a bowl beside her, she smiled at him and said, “So you can run off and your Second can go bring you back again?”
Joe stiffened.
“Yes,” she said, a malicious grin forming on her face, “I knew about that.”
“Then why—”
“Because I’m smarter than you, Joe,” she said, taking another cherry. “I knew you fried your tag.” She put it between her lips and pulled the fruit free of the stem.
Joe groaned. “Why’d you leave the Huouyt locked in his room?”
Maggie spat out the seed and grinned. Shoving herself from her desk, she strode over to him almost seductively. “Because I wanted a few private moments with you.” She smiled and made as if to stroke his chest, only she did it six ninths away from the blue-black barrier. “It’s been so long since we’ve talked.”
“Cut the furgsoot and send me to the brig. You keep me here much longer and I’m going to end my misery.” He made a motion like he was about to step through the containment field.
Maggie’s flickering orange eyes darkened. “Peacemakers are investigating you, you know.”
“The Peacemakers are always investigating me.” He gave her a tight grin. “Thanks.”
“This time it’s different.”
Interesting. Joe thought of Be’shaar and how he doubted he was anything less than Eighth Hjai. “Oh? How so?”
Maggie smiled up at him, her teeth carrying the malice of a cat’s. Instead of answering his question, she said, “I received an order earlier today concerning your last two weeks. Seems someone important’s been deceived by your pretty kasjas.” The orange flames dancing in front of her pupils flickered. “They told me to drop the AWOL charge.”
“So I’m free to go?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
She walked to the wall and de-activated the security system, leaving Joe free to move once more. She motioned at the door. “By all means, Joe. Go back to drinking yourself stupid. I won’t press charges. I’d enjoy seeing you waste the rest of your pathetic life away.”
“Great. Thanks, Mag. You’re a doll.” Joe turned and left.
#
“You still there?”
Jer’ait twisted around to stare at the intercom. The Human had switched on the camera on his side. He was looking in at Jer’ait, somehow stifling the smugness that Jer’ait knew he was feeling.
“What do you want, Human?” It was more curt than he intended, and he cursed himself for once again allowing the Human to get under his skin.
“Haven’t called for help yet, huh?” The Human sounded intrigued. And amused. Damn him. “How long you planning on sitting in there alone in the dark?”
Jer’ait felt his pride prickle before he squashed it. “It’s not dark.”
The Human fiddled with the console outside and the room around Jer’ait went completely black.
Jer’ait felt a flicker of rage for the first time in turns. “You didn’t come to bait me.”
“No, but it’s fun.” The Human grinned at him. “You really here to be my Second?”
“I already told you yes,” Jer’ait gritted.
“What’s your real name, Be’shaar?”
Jer’ait felt like strangling something. He knew that the Human would have found out eventually, but he had wanted to reveal it at his own pace. Damn the Human.
Realizing the Human was still waiting, he reluctantly said, “Kha’vola.”
The Human laughed, and it sent waves of fury coursing through Jer’ait’s borrowed veins.
“Is that so,” the Human said, once he had stopped laughing.
“You’ve heard of me?” Jer’ait demanded.
“How about I let you out when you feel like telling the truth.”
“That is the truth,” Jer’ait snapped.
“Well, don’t be too upset, but I’ve been around too many Huouyt to think you tell the truth on the second go. Maybe the seventh or the eighth, out of boredom, but not the second.”
Jer’ait smiled, despite himself. “We’re to be groundmates. We’ll have to learn to trust each other.” And then I will carve out your liver, you miserable cretin.
The Human snorted. “Yeah, right.” He glanced at his watch. “Look, I got an appointment with Jim Beam. Like, any tic now.”
“Your brother is due to be executed in three weeks,” Jer’ait said, leaning forward with interest. “I can help you rescue him,” he promised. “You’ll find no one better.”
The Human laughed. “You’re probably right. But, like I said, I don’t trust you.”
Jer’ait frowned. “I am not lying. I’d enjoy assisting you.”
The Human continued to chuckle. “Look. I’m just a PlanOps thug and you’re just a wannabe Va’ga reject who heard too many rumors about Jer’ait Ze’laa and thinks he’s a trained assassin. We’d never stand a chance and I know it.”
Jer’ait scowled at the Human, fighting his frustration. “Your brother is going to die if you don’t let me help you.”
“I’m not falling for it.” The Human shifted his attention to the door as he punched something into the access pad on the other side. “And unless you swallow yo
ur pride and call some tech guys, the only way you’re getting out of that room is by figuring out what Kophat means. I’ll even leave you access to the net, to make it easier for you.” The Human punched in a few more commands and the net option appeared before Jer’ait. Then the Human’s face tightened. “Me, I’m going to go watch my brother’s execution on primetime. I hear it’s going to have a light-show.”
“Kophat?” Jer’ait asked, trying to stall him. “That’s where you were trained.”
The Human laughed and walked away.
Perplexed, irritated that the Human had refused his offer to help, Jer’ait went to the net and began to search files of Kophat.
It was a basic training planet for thirty-two different species, plus had held high-tech Congressional weaponry as a depot before the last major Huouyt rebellion.
Jer’ait frowned when he realized that the dates of the Huouyt rebellion coincided with the date of Joe’s basic training on Kophat. Joe had gotten his first kasja in helping a Dhasha prince retake the planet from Representative Na’leen.
Jer’ait sat back, frowning at that page. It made no sense. Why had Representative Na’leen allowed the Human recruits to penetrate his bunker? Why, when he could have simply sealed himself inside and launched an ekhta at Koliinaat without fear of any reprisals?
Huouyt were intelligent, more so than any other species in the universe aside from the legendary—and nearly extinct—Geuji. Na’leen had been smarter than most, ruling the Huouyt from the Regency on Koliinaat for almost three hundred turns. Jer’ait knew this, yet as he began making connections between the dead Representative Na’leen and Joe Dobbs, he began to feel a coldness creeping along his breja.
Na’leen invited Joe inside. It’s the only way Joe’s groundteam could have gotten past his Sentinels.
Confused, Jer’ait closed the common net and accessed the Peacemaker records.
Jer’ait scanned the files for hours, but out of all of them, only one other Huouyt, a meager four-point, had found it at all suspicious. But at the time, the Huouyt had been generally despised for their attempt to fulfill the Fourfold Prophecy, and when he had received the report, Prince Bagkhal had sent the four-point off to count Trosska in the ruvmestin mines. Before he left for the mines, the Huouyt Battlemaster had tried to get Joe court-martialed, but his Secondary Commander had simply denied the request. After all, Na’leen was dead. Killed himself after Joe trapped him. Twelve witnesses said that Joe had saved Congress. Only one little girl had said otherwise.
Maggie. Immediately, Jer’ait typed her name into the room’s passcode prompt. The system immediately rejected it.
Frowning, Jer’ait leaned back. Maggie’s account that Joe had betrayed them all did not make sense. Yet the more he looked at the reports, the more the official story didn’t make sense, either.
There were at least a dozen eyewitnesses that said Joe had killed a Jreet by himself, with nothing but a knife.
Impossible.
Impossible, unless the Jreet hadn’t tried to defend itself…
Jer’ait’s eyes widened. Could Na’leen have had access to the same prophecy that the Trith had delivered to Yua’nev? Could he have expected Joe to help him fulfill the Fourfold Prophecy? And Joe had turned him down?
It would not make a difference to Yua’nev, even if it were true. Still, it provided an interesting insight into the Human’s mentality.
But how does this help me? Jer’ait wondered. Does it help me to understand what Kophat means? Then, frustrated, he thought, Means to who? Means to Joe? Or means to Congress? Or did he study linguistics and knows Kophat means ‘Violet Sky’ in Ooreiki Common?
There were just too many options. As Jer’ait stared at the console, he imagined all the different passcodes having to do with Kophat that the Human could have used to lock the room. He began entering them as he thought of them, beginning with the names of his four dead groundmates, then his instructors, then Representative Na’leen and the names of his five closest advisors. When that didn’t work, he began entering cities and areas Joe had visited while on Kophat. After getting nowhere with those, he tried the names of all the gear and items a Congie had to use while training on Kophat. He tried every keyword he could imagine.
He probably spelled it wrong, Jer’ait cursed finally. Nothing but a stupid, uneducated Congie.
He blinked.
Joe had chosen Congress over the rebels.
Joe had chosen to become a Congie.
Tentatively, Jer’ait typed in the new password.
With a quiet hiss, the doors of the room opened and the light from the hall pierced his prison.
“Where is he?” a deep voice demanded immediately, from the air almost half a rod above his head.
Jer’ait stepped into the hallway and looked up at his Battlemaster. “No need for alarm.”
“You let him escape, didn’t you?” A massive crimson fist smashed into the wall beside Jer’ait’s head, shattering it to dust.
“I know where he is,” Jer’ait said calmly.
“That’s it. No more coddling this Human. You’ve tried twice and failed twice. Now we do things my way.”
Jer’ait opened his mouth to argue, then, seeing there was no argument, sighed. “Very well.”
CHAPTER 7: Joe, Meet Daviin
Joe slipped out of the barracks needing a drink.
He’d logged into the news network after leaving the Huouyt in his room. What the Huouyt had said was true. The Vahlin had blown up one of the three Jreet planets. A third of the Jreet population, dead.
Not only that, but he had somehow gathered one hundred and thirty-four princes to his cause. Not loners, not young, but princes. Every one of them with his heirs and kin and mates and Takki in tow.
Joe had heard of wars that had lasted over a hundred turns just fighting one prince. The idea of fighting over a hundred was enough to make any man’s gut queasy.
Congress would need every man they could get.
“Damn it,” Joe muttered, finding a seat at the bar. He ordered whiskey, and gladly locked his hand around the glass when it came. He closed his eyes and drank, trying not to listen to the ongoing news accounts of his nefarious younger brother constantly blaring in the background.
He had no more taken his first swallow when a massive scarlet hand clamped down on his wrist, almost breaking bones.
“The Huouyt said I could find you here.”
A force like a Congressional cannon ripped Joe away from the bar and threw him across the room. Patrons of the bar began screaming all around him. Joe’s aggressor let him hit the ground hard in a sprawl and began dragging him before Joe even realized he had fallen from his chair.
“Son of a bitch!” Joe screamed, twisting. Whatever was holding him was strong. He kicked out, knocking tables aside, breaking chairs. “Let go of me, asher!”
“Of course.” Whatever it was lifted Joe off the ground and hurled him into the wall twenty digs away. Joe caught a glimpse of red—a lot of red—before he was being torn out of the wreckage. “I am done chasing your soft, oily hide across the planet, Human.” A red and gold blur filled Joe’s vision, before disappearing again. The harsh voice continued, “The Huouyt might have the patience to pamper you, but I’m tired of your Takki crap. They won’t let us go to Neskfaat until we collect our groundteam. You will get on that shuttle if I have to drag you there by your bulbous head.”
Whatever it was threw him again, this time slamming him into a pool table. Joe felt the air go out of him and he gasped. Aside from flashes of red, he still hadn’t gotten a look at his attacker. It was as if he was being attacked by thin air.
Groaning, Joe picked himself off the pool table and glanced around the room. Half the tables were shattered, the stools knocked over and tangled. There was a hole in the wall where Joe’s head had gone through it.
Joe slowly twisted around, eying the bar. Except for the bartender, all the Humans who had been patronizing the place had fled. Not a good sign. It meant the
y’d seen something Joe hadn’t.
Joe’s eye caught on the Huouyt. Be’shaar was leaning casually in the doorframe, watching with an amused expression. Joe felt a brief flash of surprise that he had guessed his password before the force slammed into him again, rolling him across the floor like a wayward pencil.
Directly above him, the disembodied voice bellowed, “But, since dragging you by your weakling neck might kill you, I decided it would be easier just to pummel you until you can’t move.” One heavy hand grabbed Joe by the leg, but by this time, Joe was too dazed to think about defending himself.
“But, since you’ve got the annoying habit of disappearing even while puking drunk, I’m thinking I should probably break your legs, just to be safe.”
Behind the counter, the bartender’s eyes were wide and he was backing away from whatever held Joe. Thinking of his leg, Joe frantically jammed his elbow into his attacker.
His elbow hit solid steel.
A massive, serpentine flash of scarlet, then a sharp, diamond-shaped head was filling his vision. Small, bright golden eyes fixed on him with a dangerous intensity between deep, diamond-shape audial-ridges that took up most of the creature’s head. A predator’s fangs showed behind scaly red lips. A patch of white dappled its brow above its metallic eyes. “Should I start breaking legs, Human?” The grip on his leg tightened, and Joe had the sick feeling it would only take a slight twist to snap his femur in half.
“Burn me,” Joe said when he realized what was holding him.
A Jreet. A burning Jreet. Even with two planets, they were rarer than Humans. They had no massive cities, no sprawling megaplexes. Even as one of the founding races of Congress, they were as close to primitives as a sentient race could come—he’d only ever seen them once before, during his time in bootcamp, the bodyguards of a Congressional Representative who decided to rebel. That he was seeing one here, on Earth, left him thinking the bartender had slipped him a little something extra in his drink.
“Only break one of his legs,” the Huouyt said calmly from the door. “The last thing I want is to have to carry him around the shuttle while he heals.”