Zero Recall

by Sara King

  As Daviin enthusiastically grasped the corpse in both hands and ripped away a leg with his jaws, Jer’ait glanced down at his own food. One thing he enjoyed about taking the pattern of another species was his ability to eat solid food. He was grimacing at the gelatinous orange wafers when the Human leaned forward.

  “Are you trying to tell me your own Overseer just threatened to kill you?”

  Jer’ait suddenly lost the remnants of his appetite. “Leave it alone, Human.”

  “No,” Joe said. “Answer me.”

  Anger licked at Jer’ait’s insides like fire. “I’ll deal with it.”

  “How?” The Human fixed him with a cold brown stare.

  “It is none of your concern, Human.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “Yes.” Before the Human could continue on that train of thought, he said, “Why’d you allow Bev’kii to goad you? What good did it do?”

  The Human’s hard brown eyes told him he knew Jer’ait was deflecting the issue. Nonetheless, he said, “No one goaded me. I acknowledged a fact. In my old teams, I was always the best, the one who got the kills and received the honors. I was the hot shit. I was the one going places. Here, I’m always gonna be sixth fiddle.”

  Daviin dropped a large bone on the table servers had provided for the purpose and wiped his bloody muzzle. “What’s a fiddle?”

  “You know what he means.” Jer’ait glanced at his nutrient wafers. He’d never eaten around others before, at least not since his training in Va’ga. There were too many risks involved. He glanced at his companions to assure himself they were not watching him. Still, he could only stare at his food, fighting humiliation at the burning need to eat.

  “I do,” the Jreet confirmed. “But I would like to know what this fiddle is. It must be a stupid thing, indeed, for him to make such a furgish statement.”

  “Furgish?” Joe said. “Beside a Huouyt or a Jreet, I’m just a waste of space.”

  “We survived, furg,” the Jreet growled. “There were other teams with Huouyt and Jreet and no Human and they failed. This one survived.”

  “I was out cold.”

  Daviin made an irritated rumbling sound in his throat. “Two thousand teams made it out of the tunnels alive, Joe. A quarter of them were led by Humans. Do you not see a pattern?”

  “There is no pattern,” Joe said, locking gazes with the Jreet.

  Jer’ait could not hold back his surprise. “Only two thousand?”

  His groundmates broke their stare to glance at him. “No one told you?”

  “No,” Jer’ait whispered. The numbers were staggering. The Ground Force had lost millions.

  Daviin snorted. “They told me, and I was strapped to the floor.” He clapped a huge scarlet hand against Joe’s back and said, “The Humans won the day.”

  “The Jreet appreciate a winner,” Joe muttered. “But unfortunately, your congratulations are mislaid. I did nothing.”

  “Four Jreet warriors died in the tunnels that day,” Daviin said. “And almost twenty thousand Huouyt. Every Human that went in came out alive.”

  Joe laughed. “That’s a lie.”

  “Jreet don’t lie.”

  The Human’s smile faltered. “How many went in?”

  “A little over five hundred.”

  Joe only stared at him.

  Daviin went back to his carcass, his point made.

  “How do you know?” Joe looked at a loss, now.

  “The Ueshi used it to distract me while they drugged me.”

  Jer’ait tore his eyes from his uneaten wafers and glanced at the Jreet. “I was under the impression Jreet didn’t need to be drugged.”

  For a long moment, Joe did not reply, and the Jreet did not enlighten him. Eventually, however, Joe shook himself and grinned. “They did this time. You want to tell the story, Daviin, or should I?”

  Daviin made a sour face and began tearing into his carcass with more vigor. He ripped a good-sized limb from the creature and loudly cracked its bones between his jaws. It was a less-than-subtle threat, one the Human missed entirely.

  Turning to Jer’ait, Joe said, “He scared the crap out of this little slavesoul Ueshi doctor, told him he’d hunt him down and kill him and all his descendants if he shaved his scales. They drugged him, then stapled him to the floor, then shaved whatever they wanted. Daviin swore to kill every coward in the room, make them dance on his tek before he crushed their bodies and went off to hunt down their kin…you know, typical Jreet stuff. Doctor didn’t take it too well. Was gonna have him deported.”

  “Strange,” Jer’ait said, glancing at the small bare patches on the Jreet’s hide. “I was under the assumption Jreet didn’t have doctors.”

  “We don’t,” Daviin growled. He ripped off a last bleeding chunk of meat and swallowed it whole. Then he slammed the shattered bone down on the pile and picked up the carcass again.

  “Then how’d he do such a good job of patching you up?” Joe asked, a small frown forming on the Human’s face once more.

  “Some of the cowards on Welu might keep them on staff,” Daviin said, tossing aside another bone. “I know for a fact Vora doesn’t.”

  “Well, from what I hear, you’re damn lucky he was here,” the Human said.

  Daviin grunted.

  “Why?” Jer’ait asked.

  “They had to replace sixty lobes of flesh,” Joe replied. “He was shredded in several places, holding together by less than half his musculature. Had organ damage, stuff not even nanos would fix. And the pressure he put on his wounds tore some of his muscles halfway up his body.”

  “That bad?” Jer’ait asked, surprised. “How’d he get out?”

  “Beats me.” The Human went back to eating his red, wormy sauce.

  “I slid out,” Daviin growled, snapping open another melaa bone so he could suck out the juices inside. He disdainfully tossed the remains aside, almost hitting the Ueshi proprietor, who took more pictures. Then he looked at Jer’ait and added, “Carrying the rest of you lazy bastards.”

  Jer’ait’s breja rippled with shame.

  “But,” Daviin set down the carcass and leaned down so that his head hovered near Jer’ait’s. “I fell from the ceiling, I ruined our plans, and I almost got you killed. I was repaying what I owed.”

  Damn the Jreet! Jer’ait once more thought about his eye, how it would be better to have just one that worked than two that gave away his thoughts like a vid tutorial. He once again considered blinding himself.

  Across the room, a loud Human voice shouted, “Burn me! That’s a big Jreet!”

  Daviin flexed the outer ridges of his audial canals in irritation, then twisted his head to face the door to the street.

  Three Humans were walking toward them, one strutting with great confidence while the other, smaller ones walked together. It was the shorter of the two who concerned Jer’ait. He recognized her from Earth.

  “We were looking for you, man,” the taller Human said. He held out his hand for Joe. “Prime Commander Wolfgang Weiss. My men call me White Wolf.”

  “Wolfgang.” Joe had not taken his eyes off of Phoenix. Jer’ait had the idea he wanted to lunge out of his chair, so tightly was he gripping the table. His stare was so dark that even the Jreet noticed.

  “Who’s this, Joe?” Daviin asked warily.

  Phoenix did not even bother to glance up at the Jreet’s bulk, keeping her gaudily-modified eyes firmly fixed on Zero. “We need to talk.” Beside her, the other female said nothing, though she looked uncomfortable.

  “About what?”

  After several moments of Joe ignoring it, the male dropped his hand. “About how screwed up things are around here. You were down there. You saw it.”

  “Or maybe he didn’t,” Phoenix said, her eyes never leaving Joe’s. “After all, he was unconscious for half of it.”

  Instead of telling them to leave or simply going back to his meal, Joe stood up. To Jer’ait and Daviin, he said, “I’ll see you guys back
at the barracks.” Then he turned and followed the taller one out.

  Phoenix paused a moment, giving Daviin and Jer’ait a calculating glance, then departed.

  “Should we follow him?” the Jreet asked.

  “No.”

  “They act like they know each other.”

  “They do.”

  “Really?” Daviin twisted around to give him a surprised look. “Who is the small one?”

  “The one that ruined his career.” Jer’ait got up to go.

  Daviin reached out and held him in place with an enormous hand. “I want to talk to you. Alone.”

  Jer’ait stifled his irritation. “I’m busy.” He tried to shrug off the Jreet’s grip so he could leave, but it was like trying to shrug off a mountain. Daviin did not let go.

  “It is unnatural the way you eat by yourself, Huouyt,” Daviin said, looming over him. “Joe didn’t notice, but you didn’t take a single bite of your meal. You haven’t eaten with any of us since we arrived here.”

  Jer’ait stiffened, resisting the urge to punch a poisoned spine through the Jreet’s meddlesome hand. “I like to eat alone.”

  “A man who eats alone is a man without friends,” the Jreet intoned.

  “A man who has no friends does not mourn when they pass.”

  Daviin laughed. “A Jreet does not want his friends to mourn. He wants them to celebrate and impregnate their mates on his grave.”

  Jer’ait was amused, despite himself. “One can never account for culture.” Reluctantly, he sat back down. Then, hesitating, he took one of the orange nutrient wafers from the pile. Feeling it in his paddle-like palm, Jer’ait’s zora burned with hunger. He gave the Jreet an anxious look to make sure he wasn’t going to try anything unpleasant.

  The Jreet was watching him, waiting.

  Desperation warring with shame, Jer’ait pushed his zora from his mouth, to take the wafer. Instantly, his zora closed on the nutrient gel and dragged it back into his head, roiling over it, consuming it. Jer’ait experienced the brief moment of panic he always felt when he ate—a brief wondering if the food had somehow been laced with organic material—then allowed himself to relax. The boost of energy was already entering his system, lending strength to his exhausted muscles.

  “Good,” Daviin said, once the wafer had disappeared in Jer’ait’s head and Jer’ait had relaxed into his end of the booth. The Jreet immediately went back to tearing into the four-legged pile of meat in front of him. “So tell me about our Prime. Why do you want to kill him?”

  It took Jer’ait a moment to understand what the Jreet had said, and when he did, he was so surprised he couldn’t help but flinch. “Excuse me?”

  The Jreet went on eating as if he had said nothing out of the ordinary, though his small golden eyes were sharp as they watched him.

  Jer’ait glanced around the restaurant to see if it was some sort of trap.

  “We’re alone, Huouyt.” The Jreet’s words were filled with disdain. “I don’t need others to fight my battles for me.”

  “Is that what this is?” Jer’ait asked, starting to stand again. “A battle?”

  The Jreet lowered his meal, his eyes suddenly intense. “Is that what you want it to be?”

  Looking up at his coiled mass, Jer’ait knew his chances of surviving a brawl with the Jreet were infinitesimal. His strength was in deception, not brute strength. Even if he somehow found the purchase to administer a poison, it wouldn’t take effect fast enough.

  “No,” Jer’ait said. “We both know I’d lose.”

  The Jreet grunted and nodded. “At least you’re not stupid. Though it would make me feel better if you were.” He flicked a bone shard off of the table in front of him, leveling his impressive stare on Jer’ait. “Tell me why you haven’t killed him yet.”

  “I never said I was here to kill him.”

  “No,” Daviin said, his eyes never leaving Jer’ait’s face, “but you are.”

  Jer’ait returned the Jreet’s stare-for-stare, then said, “I’m here to see the Vahlin die.”

  “Not to kill Joe.”

  “No.”

  Daviin scoffed. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You have to.”

  The Jreet frowned at him. “Why, when I can just kill you right here?”

  “You have to trust me,” Jer’ait said, “because even if I am here to kill him, I’d simply be replaced as soon as I was dead.” Jer’ait made a pleasant motion at the exit. “At least this way, you can keep your eye on the enemy.”

  “Are you the enemy?” The Jreet’s eyes were too sharp, too cunning.

  He really wants to kill me, Jer’ait realized, a little nervously. He’s trying to goad me into giving him an excuse.

  “No,” Jer’ait said, standing. He could find somewhere else to eat.

  “I want to hear you say it,” Daviin said, again blocking the path with his arm. “I want you to tell me to my face you’re not here to kill my ward.” His head was tilted with challenge, his eyes dangerous. “Can you do it?”

  “We both know I can,” Jer’ait said.

  “But I want to hear it,” Daviin demanded. “The fool has ordered me not to dismember you like you deserve, so I want to hear you say you will not kill him. It’s the only way my Sentinel instincts will abide you still breathing around my ward.”

  Jer’ait met Daviin’s gaze and searched the Jreet’s face.

  He’s desperate, Jer’ait realized. He wants to hear it more badly than he shows. He wants to believe it.

  Reading the Jreet’s expression, Jer’ait realized something else. I lie to him and he’ll let it drop. He’ll never bother me again.

  Jer’ait opened his mouth. Then he remembered collapsing under the Dhasha’s claws, expecting to bleed to death. Daviin had dragged him to safety, regardless of his own wounds. He had dragged him to safety when it would have been a thousand times easier to simply let him die in the tunnels. Daviin could have rid himself of all these problems, yet he chose to keep Jer’ait alive.

  The Jreet continued to watch him, metallic golden eyes needing to hear the words.

  “Finish your meal,” Jer’ait said. “We can finish this later, Sentinel.” He brushed past the Jreet’s arm and left Daviin coiled alone at the table, staring at the remnants of his melaa.

  #

  “What do you want, Maggie?” Joe asked, a tired part of his soul realizing that, almost without exception, this was the source of his misery for the last fifty turns. Every investigation, every write-up, every demotion—every outrageous fine that had appeared after each of his six kasjas, wiping out his bank accounts, leaving him in debt to Congress, unable to retire...

  It was all her doing. And if he survived this whole brutal battle, it was she who was going to get a Corps Directorship. It was so hard to stand next to her he was shaking. He wanted to hurt her, and it was all he could do not to reach for her throat.

  “I want you to survive,” Maggie said, her voice a liquid honey that sent a rush of icewater down his spine. “We’re sending you back to the tunnels in a second attack.”

  Joe sat down hard. “A second attack? You’re insane. The place needs to be demolished.”

  “When have you ever known Congress to be sane?” Wolfgang growled.

  “Why don’t they just blow the whole planet?” Joe demanded, growing angry. “If there’s ever been a better time to use an ekhta, I haven’t seen it.”

  “Bureaucrats on Koliinaat,” Wolfgang told him. “They’re squabbling over who gets to have Neskfaat once it’s cleared of Dhasha.”

  “That, and the Jahul,” the strange woman with them grimaced. “They’ve got the Trade Commission chair. They’re pressuring really hard to make peace, not war. That whole empath thing.”

  “So in the meantime,” Maggie added, “While they’re running the numbers and gathering up the force required for a second major attack, the Directors are gonna send the Neskfaat survivors back down to take out as many princes as you can before you all d
ie off.” She oozed satisfaction like a Jahul oozed shit.

  “This is furgish,” Joe said. “PlanOps already lost its best fighters in that fiasco. Anyone else they pick will already be second-choice. They need teachers for the next wave.”

  “They’re claiming it’s statistics,” Wolfgang said. “Species abilities versus species compatibility. Once they get the right combinations down, they’re gonna try to overwhelm the princes.”

  “You can’t overwhelm a Dhasha,” Joe growled. “You’re just giving him more meat to shred.”

  “They’re sending you back,” Maggie said. “So I want the three of you to compare notes.”

  Joe glanced at the man and the woman in the booths beside him—both Prime Commanders—and waited.

  “Something weird is going on,” Wolfgang offered. “Phoenix and I already talked. Those Dhasha not only knew when we were coming, but they knew who was coming. They killed most of the teams before they even got off the surface.”

  “Interesting,” Joe said. Maggie watched him, the fires flickering in her special contacts failing to hide her uneasy look.

  “Interesting?! That Vahlin had my guys pegged, right down to the Dreit that didn’t join ‘til the hour before the fight. We found the lists after the dust settled. And the poor guy ain’t a traitor, neither. Peacemakers got all up in his ass after we got back, but he’s clean as a whistle.”

  Joe said nothing.

  “You listening to this?” Wolfgang demanded.

  Joe did not respond, never lifting his eyes from Maggie’s gaze. You’re lucky there’s witnesses, he wanted to say. But then, you already knew that, didn’t you? That’s why you brought them.

  “Screw him,” Wolfgang said, standing. “He don’t know soot.”

  “I know the Dhasha prince we killed had been given an exact date and time for our arrival, right down to the half hour.”

  Wolfgang frowned. “So which Overseer chose the time?”

  “All of them,” Maggie said. “We compromised. Averaged it.”