Zero Recall

by Sara King

  Daviin lunged up just as soon as he felt the last band loosen, ripping the last few free of the floor as he straightened. The plate over his tek fell away, leaving him completely free to slam it through the Huouyt’s meddling body.

  Jer’ait stood and tossed the key into the empty harness. “That Ueshi was a disgusting coward. My drugs were not enough for him.”

  “I’d like to see him again,” Daviin said. “And give my thanks.”

  The Huouyt peered up at him, obviously trying to decide whether or not he was being sarcastic. Finally, he said, “You’d make him soil himself.”

  “True.” Daviin glanced around the room and, seeing no one else, said, “You stood by through the whole operation?”

  “It is a Huouyt’s duty to his groundmate.”

  Daviin grunted. “What of Joe?”

  The Huouyt gave a disgusted snort. “I’ve not killed him yet, if that’s what you ask.”

  Daviin narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got no shame, do you?”

  Jer’ait made a noncommittal gesture. “Our Prime has not returned since his own kind took him.”

  Gingerly, Daviin touched the side of his head. He did not feel blood, though the area was slightly tender. Sensitized. But he could hear. That was the important thing. He tried a small ping just to be sure. The echoes bounced back to him, leaving a solid picture in his head.

  Satisfied he was once more whole, Daviin lowered his hand and moved to the door.

  “Jreet.”

  He paused and glanced back at Jer’ait. “What?”

  “One blast and you were ruined,” the Huouyt said. “If that’s the result, why don’t they use sound grenades against you more often? Why don’t the Dhasha have them in the tunnels?”

  Daviin snorted. “To use them would be for the Dhasha to admit they’re afraid of us.”

  Jer’ait did not laugh. “I think it’s clear that these Dhasha aren’t obeying the rules, Jreet.”

  Daviin tensed. “It’s dishonorable.”

  “It’s war,” Jer’ait said. “That’s why I had the Ueshi coward replace your inner membranes with synthetic.”

  Daviin felt his coils tighten. “You augmented me?”

  “You’ll thank me when the Vahlin tells them to use sound grenades on you.”

  “A Jreet,” Daviin said, so low it was almost inaudible, “does not rely upon anything but his own body.” His tek began to slide from its sheath out of sheer fury. “Take them out.”

  The Huouyt moved closer to him. “Listen to me, Jreet,” he said, completely ignoring the poisoned appendage. “There’s something wrong here. Those who abide by the normal rules will die.”

  “Better to die than live like an augmented coward!” Daviin roared. “You’ve disgraced me, Huouyt. I’ll never be able to claim the Voran throne.”

  Jer’ait laughed at him. “How can I disgrace you any more than you’ve already disgraced yourself? A slave to a slave… It doesn’t get much more disgraceful than that.”

  Daviin suddenly felt his world crash down around him. “Leave,” Daviin whispered. “Before I break my oath and kill you now.”

  Jer’ait ignored him. “You were not augmented, Jreet. You were immunized against a coward’s weapon.” Jer’ait stared up at him, his purple eye calm despite Daviin’s protruding tek. “Seeing you helpless today, I realized something. I could take a handful of those grenades to Vora or Welu and kill the entire Jreet royal lineages and there wouldn’t be a single one amongst you who could stop me. I also realized that if this Vahlin is monitoring us closely enough to know our exact attack times and species types, he heard about your tussle with the Welu and how I put an end to it. If the idea to use sound grenades had not occurred to him before, it’s occurred to him now. I’ve done you a favor.”

  “You tainted me.” Daviin’s fury was a storm within his chest, an ache of shame and anger.

  The Huouyt cocked his head slightly, an amused look crossing his mutated face. “You Jreet are more delicate than you look. Your honor takes one tiny smudge and you are suddenly prepared to kill yourselves.” The Huouyt gave an unconcerned shrug. “But whether you like it or not, it is done. The only one on this planet skilled enough to remove them without killing you is the Ueshi, and you can be sure he’s not gonna let you find him. So, unless you rip them out yourself, the implants will remain until our business on Neskfaat is complete.”

  “This Ueshi,” Daviin said, slowly. “I want to talk to him.”

  “So would I,” Jer’ait said. “Especially after I discovered no one knows where he came from. It seems you have a guardian angel, Jreet. He appears and disappears at will. He eluded even me, when I tried to follow him.”

  “That spineless coward is not an angel,” Daviin snapped, irritated.

  “How else do you evade a Va’ga?”

  “Catch him for me and we shall both find out.”

  “Unfortunately,” the Huouyt said, “I have a feeling we won’t see him again until you need him.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Daviin snarled. “That I’m in league with the Ueshi?”

  “Somebody important wants to see you succeed,” Jer’ait said. “You think your family—”

  “No!” Daviin snapped, disgusted at the very idea. “Never. Jreet do not coddle their young.”

  “Then you have a secret admirer,” Jer’ait said. “If you’re correct and it’s not your family, then perhaps you should figure out—”

  The door opened and the Ueshi entered, head crest fluttering. His eyes swept to Daviin and he balked. “Oh. I did not realize he was awake. Jer’ait, I heard you were looking for me. I’ll wait in the hall for you. Alone, please.”

  Daviin moved to grab the Ueshi, but the Huouyt beat him to it. Before Daviin had a chance to comprehend quite what the assassin had done, the Ueshi dropped to the floor, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. Then Jer’ait went to the door and locked it. When he came back, he squatted beside the helpless alien, his eyes hard.

  “Will there be any more attacks today?” Jer’ait demanded.

  Daviin frowned. Attacks…?

  “No, sir,” the Ueshi whispered.

  “Good.” Jer’ait reached out and touched the Ueshi, who immediately stiffened. As Daviin watched, the alien’s eyes widened and he began to shake silently. Then he stilled.

  “You killed him?” Even though Daviin had wanted to do the very same, he had wanted to at least enjoy it a little, first.

  “It’s the price we Huouyt pay for having the skills we do. Mercy is not an option because capture is only an inconvenience. If he was any good at all—which I suspect he was—as soon as I turned away, he would have adjusted the chemical content of his blood to compensate, then would have finished what he came here to do.”

  “An assassin,” Daviin said, struggling to piece together what he had seen. “Not the doctor.”

  “Yes.” Jer’ait sighed and stood. “Don’t tell Joe. I don’t want the Prime to concern himself with my business any more than he already has. Be assured I can and will handle it.” Jer’ait calmly began going through the dead assassin’s clothing, but his one violet eye betrayed his worry. “It makes me wonder what he did to the Ueshi. He had to have taken genetic material from him somehow to create the pattern he was using.” Jer’ait pulled a small alien finger from beneath the Ueshi’s uniform, severed at the second delicate joint. The Huouyt gave Daviin a grim look. “Whatever he did, I’d say it’s a fair bet your guardian angel is no longer going to be sitting on your shoulder.”

  “You think he’s dead?” Daviin demanded. “You said your kind doesn’t take on a dead pattern!”

  Jer’ait glanced up at Daviin from where he crouched beside the dead Huouyt. “I said my sect does not use a pattern they did not kill themselves. But most Va’gans are not so...superstitious, as Joe so eloquently put it. I like to think of it as respect. Though he could be alive, it’s highly likely he’s many hours dead.”

  “We must find him!”

&nbs
p; Jer’ait cocked his head at him. “I thought you wanted to destroy the Ueshi.”

  Daviin grunted. “He fixed my audial chambers. I should thank him.”

  The Huouyt turned back to the finger and sniffed it.

  Sniffed it? Daviin frowned, repulsed. “What are you—?”

  “Be silent a moment, Jreet. I need to concentrate.”

  Then, to Daviin’s disgust, Jer’ait pushed the glistening red appendages from the slit above his eyes and dropped the finger amidst their grasping, writhing scarlet tentacles. Jer’ait’s eyes narrowed and his zora abruptly dropped the finger back to the floor. He shuddered, and visibly tried to hold his pattern in place as his zora pulled back into his head.

  “Didn’t know your kind could do that,” Daviin said, once the zora had retreated and the trembling had stopped. “Taste a creature and not become it.”

  The Huouyt looked exhausted as he got out of his crouch. “It’s hard. If you had interrupted me, I believe I would now be unconscious at your feet.”

  “So why’d you do it?”

  “I needed to taste for drugs. You’re in luck. He used vembiridol.”

  “Vemb…?”

  “An interrogation drug. Leaves its victims alive, able to talk, but blocked from using any motor functions.”

  “So he’s alive,” Daviin said. “Good. Where?”

  “I never said he was alive,” Jer’ait said. “But if he is, I will find him.”

  CHAPTER 20: Violent Alien Copulation Techniques

  Syuri checked the time. He had four tics. Forgotten had made it very clear he would have to leave after eleven tics or he would not get out in time. He went to the final door and willed the vault to open faster.

  “Enjoying yourself, Jahul?”

  Syuri spun.

  A Huouyt in Peacemaker black leaned against the wall directly inside the entrance to the hallway.

  No, Syuri thought frantically, Forgotten told me I had four more tics.

  “Where did you get those codes, Jahul?” The Huouyt never moved, but its electric eyes sizzled with eerie intensity. Syuri could feel a wave of triumph rolling off of the creature. He took a step backwards.

  The Huouyt moved from the entrance to the hallway and strode over to him with all the grace and power of a stalking Jikaln. “No matter,” the Peacemaker said, his eerie electric-blue eyes only a foot away now. “You’ll have plenty of time to tell me.”

  Without taking its eyes off of Syuri, it reached out and entered in the codes to close the vault Syuri had just opened. The sound of the fan disappeared with the thudding of locks and hissing of seals. It did not, however, seal off the misery behind the wall, which continued to seep outwards, staining his soul.

  Syuri’s hand strayed toward the pocket where he had hidden his tranquilizer.

  The Huouyt gave him a flat look. “Do you really want to do that, worm?”

  Syuri swallowed hard at the cold anger of the creature before him. Certain Huouyt could isolate chemicals in their body and neutralize them. Shooting him with a tranquilizer, if he was trained, would have no effect. If he submitted, the rest of his life would be short and unpleasant. If he did not, it would be much longer.

  “No,” Syuri whispered.

  “Very well,” the Huouyt said. “Give it to me.”

  His fingers trembling, Syuri handed the device to the Huouyt.

  The Peacemaker stuffed it into his belt and calmly went to the other doors Syuri had opened, shutting them as well. Syuri flinched as he heard the doors slam into place, knowing that he would be next to share the Geuji’s fate.

  Then Syuri saw his opportunity. The Huouyt had stooped to examine a hissing seal on one of the doors, irritation in his alien face. Forgotten wasn’t wrong, Syuri’s mind thought wildly. He planned this. He knew the Huouyt would get distracted. Syuri dodged, running at full speed toward the end of the hallway. If he could shut the door on the Huouyt and enter the override code, he would be free.

  The Huouyt never stood up. Syuri felt the sting of a tranquilizer—his own tranquilizer—and crumpled before he’d even reached the end of the hall.

  Slowly, leisurely, the Huouyt finished his inspection of the door and strode up to him. Syuri trembled inside as the assassin paused to stare down at him with cold, lifeless eyes. “Like I said. You will have all the time you need to tell me about your employer.”

  He was wrong, Syuri thought, losing control of his inner chambers. A mixture of waste liquids oozed out over his skin, making the Huouyt’s face wrinkle in disgust. Forgotten was wrong and they’re going to execute me.

  As the Huouyt bent to lift him from the floor, a new, even more horrible thought occurred to him.

  Forgotten was never wrong.

  #

  “They’ll separate the Jreet heirs and their teams will return to the tunnels ahead of schedule. Planetary Ops will want them to kill as many Dhasha as possible before they find each other again and finish what they began in the restaurant.”

  “So it is the Jreet we want?” Rri’jan insisted.

  “I’ve told you,” Forgotten said. “We need a team of six. The Jreet might make the killing blow, but then again, it might not. A Huouyt has as much chance of killing the Representative as a Jreet, since the Jreet must remain blind and mute while invisible and a Huouyt has the added bonus of patience. However, Mekkval is notorious for being able to sense intruders, so it might be that the Huouyt and the Jreet will have to battle Mekkval’s bodyguards while the Grekkon or the Baga finishes the job with an ambush.”

  “You aren’t sure what will happen?”

  “We aren’t there yet,” Forgotten said. “We are discussing the second tunnel crawl.”

  “Why? We already know the result. What is there to discuss?”

  “We do not know the result. One can never know the result unless one is a Trith, and my every action muddies the future for them so that, in anything pertaining to my plans, no one can ever know the result.”

  “But nevertheless, you know.”

  “I make guesses that usually prove to be accurate. Nothing more.”

  Rri’jan snorted. “Usually? When have you ever been wrong?”

  “Once,” Forgotten said. “It was enough.”

  The Huouyt’s electric blue eyes lit up with curiosity. “When?”

  “In my youth.”

  “What happened?”

  “I miscalculated.”

  “How so?” The Huouyt’s biorhythmic functions were elevating again, indicating his interest.

  “We should continue with the subject at hand,” Forgotten said. “Mekkval’s home den is eleven times deeper than the average den, mainly to deter enemies with ground-penetration missiles.”

  Rri’jan gave him an annoyed look. “Who cares about how deep Mekkval’s den is?”

  “This particular distance generates a lot of heat, up to a total of seventy-nine grads standard, which many species—including yours—cannot withstand without biosuits. We must take this added inconvenience into account when we form our teams.”

  “You are saying the Huouyt will not make it to Mekkval’s deep den?”

  “No. I’m saying that the Huouyt that survive this attack will come better prepared the next time.”

  “You’re staging an entire attack just to determine which groups work best in hot conditions?”

  “That will be key to our success. For instance, the Grekkon functions best in circumstances at or below sixty-six grads Standard. With each grad after that, his extrusion rate will drop exponentially, reducing his digging ability until it becomes nonexistent. An entire team’s survival could depend upon this simple fact.”

  “Very well,” Rri’jan said. “I suppose only another half a percent of our teams will survive this next wave?”

  “It will be more along the lines of twenty percent. We’ve already weeded out the dysfunctional groups. Now we’re narrowing the playing field.”

  The Huouyt’s eyes narrowed as it did a quick calculation. “So
of the two thousand surviving groundteams from the first attack, four hundred will survive the second attack?”

  “Approximately.”

  #

  “Well, looks like Jer’ait has things under control,” Joe said, turning away from the smoky, rubble-strewn restaurant. “Let’s get outta here before they make us fill out paperwork.” He groaned, his eye catching on the pile of shredded tables that had been thrown through the half-collapsed front of the structure. The Ueshi proprietor that had lured Daviin into his doors with half-priced melaa was kneeling beside his ruined establishment, tugging at his headcrest, wailing in lamentation. “Mothers’ ghosts, that’s gonna be a lot of paperwork.”

  Leila eyed the enormous gray-blue body it was taking thirty Ooreiki to drag out of the rubble by the arms. “I don’t know… I should probably be there when he wakes.”

  “You will be,” Joe said. “They’re both gonna be in surgery for hours. We’ve got time to chat.”

  “You think they can repair their ears? I heard them use a sound grenade.”

  Joe grunted. “Well, if they can’t, it’s sure not gonna help for us to stand around and complain about it.”

  Leila finally tore her eyes away from the scene and looked up at him. Her eyes had a mischievous gleam. “If I didn’t know better, Commander, I would think you were trying to get me alone with you.”

  God hates a coward. Joe winked at her. “What gave you that idea?”

  She laughed. “One of your groundmates lies incapacitated not thirty rods away and you’re hitting on me.”

  “I have the feeling this will be the only opportunity I’ll have some time alone,” Joe said, his eyes following the gang of Ooreiki as they now dragged the smaller Jreet from the ruined restaurant and laid him out beside the bigger one. It took twelve of them just to move Daviin’s body out into the road.

  “Come on,” Leila said, turning away and pulling him with her. “Pray your Huouyt dosed them good enough so they don’t wake like that.”

  Seeing the way the two Jreet were twined like lovers, unconscious bodies flopped against each other’s chests, Joe hoped he had, too.