Zero Recall

by Sara King

  They went to a restaurant, ordered a private booth, and ate good Earth-styled meals while they discussed war wounds. Leila had had her own brush with death in the last crawl, finding herself just as useless as Joe had been after the Dhasha tore up her groin and thigh through a biosuit.

  “I’d love to see those scars,” Joe said, grinning.

  She winked at him and took another bite of salad.

  Joe felt like a school kid with his first crush.

  By the time they reached the barracks, it was all they could do not to tear each other’s clothes off. Trying to regain her composure as they—two Prime Commanders—walked through the halls under the awed gazes of new grounders, Leila said she would meet him in twenty tics, his room.

  Joe all but danced back to his room, whistling like a fool.

  Joe tried to give the place a romantic atmosphere. He hastily shoved his packs of gear aside, put a little music on over the intercom, turned up the heat, and dimmed the lights, but it was hard to disguise the small room with its small bed for what it was.

  Candles, Joe thought. We need candles. He went to the com unit and dialed up Leila’s personal unit. She didn’t answer, so he left a message. “Hey Commander Wright, think you could bring some candles along with you? I’m a hopeless romantic and I ain’t got—” Joe hesitated, realizing he was about to say he didn’t have the extra cash to buy candles, thanks to his brief ‘retirement’ and Maggie’s meddling. He cleared his throat. “Uh, I think candles would be really nice, if you think you could handle it.”

  Feeling like a furg, he ended the message and went back to preparation.

  About twenty tics later, his door beeped. Joe went to it and let Leila inside, somewhat disappointed she wasn’t carrying candles. “Didn’t get my message?” he asked, not trying to pry.

  Leila raised an eyebrow at him. “Message?”

  Joe coughed. “Yeah, uh…” He blushed, realizing he didn’t really want to explain. “Think we should get a room?” he asked, somewhat worried his place was gonna horrify her. “I mean, it’s kind of cramped…”

  Leila grinned. “It’s just fine, big guy.” Changed, smelling freshly-showered, Leila shut the door. Then, without preamble, she met him with a kiss. Joe groaned and pulled her body tight against his, trying not to remember how long it had been since he’d been with a woman. Leila wrapped her arms tight behind his neck. They started undressing each other as Joe carefully backed them towards the bed.

  Joe didn’t feel the sting along his spine until it was too late.

  He collapsed like a doll, their lips parting as he fell.

  “I told you you were marked, Human.” As if he weighed nothing at all, Leila picked him up and carried him to the bed. Joe could not even find the strength to protest as the Huouyt laid him out and began calmly unfastening the buttons. It paused when it saw the Jreet’s markings on his chest.

  It smiled down at Joe. “Pity your Jreet isn’t here to protect you. And your precious Va’ga…” He got up and went to the door and Joe heard the horrible sound of bolts falling into place. Somehow, the Huouyt had gotten his security code. Not a soul would enter this room unless a Prime Overseer ordered it.

  Though he couldn’t turn his head, Joe heard the beepings of the Huouyt accessing the com terminal beside the door.

  “Ah,” the Huouyt said, stepping back to him. “He’s watching the Jreet’s operation, which isn’t scheduled to end for another three hours.” The Huouyt smiled with Leila’s lips, mockingly pleasant. “I wonder why he bothers at all. It’s not like any of you mean anything to him.” The Huouyt glanced at the clock embedded in the wall and clapped his Human hands together. “So! You said you didn’t feel getting marked. That means I’ve got two hours to make you feel it.”

  Only a moment later, Leila’s tentative voice came over the intercom, “Hey, uh, Commander Zero? I got this weird message about candles… You…uh…hopin’ ta get frisky?” She almost sounded hopeful.

  The Huouyt leaned over his prone body to stroke Joe’s face. Joe stared back at him, refusing to be cowed.

  “Commander Zero?” Leila asked. “You in there?” He heard her knuckles give a muffled rap on the metal door.

  Mothers’ ghosts, Joe thought, not sure whether he wanted her to leave or to investigate further. He had the feeling the Huouyt would kill them both, if she tried to interrupt his fun.

  After a long moment, the Prime Commander outside sighed. “Well...ash.”

  Then Joe was alone with the Huouyt. Though Joe knew the night would go a lot quicker for him if he gave in to the twinges of fear he felt, Joe glared as the assassin traced his skin.

  Give it your best, asher.

  The Huouyt’s fingers traveled down to the pulsing artery in Joe’s neck and Joe tensed. He felt another sting and suddenly he remembered how to talk. In fact, he found he had to talk.

  “You’d better not hurt her,” he blurted.

  The Huouyt made an amused snort. “Your own safety is the issue here, Joe. You and I are going to play a game, much like the sexual one we were about to engage in, except with pain instead of pleasure.”

  Joe had to fight with every ounce of control he had to keep his mouth shut. Some inhibition had been battered away to nothing and now he felt compelled to blurt out the first things that came to mind.

  “At the end of the game, you will experience pain so great it will change you forever. It will not kill you. No. I believe that is too lenient a death for one with so little respect for my profession.” The Huouyt started pacing around him on the bed, looking down at his prone form. “You will serve as an example to others for the rest of your long life.” He smiled down at Joe. “Are you ready?”

  “Not really,” Joe said. “Actually, I’d rather you leave right now.”

  The Huouyt’s Human face smiled. “I’m sure you would.”

  “What drug did you use on me?”

  “And why would you care?” the assassin said. “What do you know of drugs?”

  “I want to know if it’s the same one Jer’ait uses.”

  The Huouyt laughed. “Of course it is. Vembiridol. The chemical compounds are so complex that only a true master can reproduce it. I use nothing else.”

  “You sure don’t mind barking up your own tree, do you?” Joe blurted.

  The Huouyt gave him a long, hard stare. “After meeting with you, I educated myself on Human tolerances in preparation for our next encounter. Let’s see how you like this.”

  He reached out and took Joe’s wrist. Joe tried to flinch away, but the Huouyt easily held him in place.

  The pain that shot up from the veins in his hand was like someone had poured boiling acid into his heart. Joe felt his chest heaving in a scream before he heard it.

  The Huouyt smiled in Leila’s pattern as Joe screamed, then watched him pant as the pain ebbed. “I’m sorry. Was that one not to your liking? I’m sure I can find something better.” He reached out again.

  This time, Joe thought he would lose his mind. His world centered on the tearing, biting agony that coursed through his veins with every beat of his heart. Every nerve was suddenly afire with horrible, rending pain. He felt his heart shy away from it, palpitating, slowing.

  “Oops,” the Huouyt said, bringing him back to his senses. “Looks like I might’ve given you a slight overdose with that one. My mistake.”

  “No problem,” Joe panted. “I’m sure you make a lot of them.”

  The Huouyt’s expression hardened.

  Joe grinned, despite knowing he was in for a long night.

  #

  Flea clung to the wall, hiding behind the gear rack. He had heard Joe enter the room while he’d been rooting through his things, trying to gain some sort of idea of just who their Prime really was. Flea had hit the wall in a panic, hoping the Human wouldn’t hear the buzz of his wings.

  The Human started rooting around the room like a nesting Dhasha. Flea tensed, terrified he’d been caught, but slowly relaxed again when he reali
zed Joe hadn’t noticed his intrusion and was simply moving the equipment.

  But why?

  Feeling exposed on the wall, where other species’ eyes so commonly rested, Flea carefully began to climb toward the ceiling, thankful the Congies had painted his carapace a dull black to go with the walls. Step by painful step, he made his way to the domed red light and hid behind it.

  Tentatively, he peeked around the light, trying to judge whether or not he could safely crawl across the ceiling and out the door.

  Flea watched, intrigued, as Joe went to the wall and dimmed the lights to a soft glow.

  Further confusing him, the Human went to the com unit and put a horrid cacophony over the intercom system, one that made Flea’s carapace and wings vibrate uncomfortably. He scuttled away from the intercom unit, hoping the lights were dim enough that the Human did not see him.

  Then his Prime went and made a call requesting candles. What the hell?

  To his surprise, another Human joined his Prime a short while later, this one smaller and with more bulges. Standing on the floor, the two Humans began to strip off each other’s outer garments and grope each other’s sexual organs. Flea paused. Then he leaned forward from the ceiling, watching with interest.

  Joe’s body suddenly stiffened and slumped to the ground.

  The smaller Human lifted his Prime from the floor and carried him to the rectangular bed the Human seemed to prefer.

  I know what this is, Flea thought suddenly. They’re mating.

  Fascinated, Flea settled in to watch.

  The first time Joe screamed, Flea found it intriguing. What kind of creatures—except a Jreet—could make mating a painful experience and expect to survive as a species?

  The second time Joe screamed, Flea realized something was wrong. He scuttled closer, so he could hear their words.

  He heard the one Human apologize and Flea began to relax. Then Joe began to scream out curses that left no mistake of his feelings toward the female. Flea crept closer, until he was perched atop the ceiling directly above them.

  Though he was on his back, Joe didn’t see him. His eyes were fixed on the other Human. Flea strained to hear.

  The strange Human laughed. “Oh no. I will enjoy my full two hours. And in the end, you will serve as a warning for others who would dare to interfere in Huouyt affairs.” It reached for Joe again.

  The way Joe flinched away, Flea knew something was very wrong. It was almost as if he couldn’t move…

  It’s a Huouyt.

  Thunderous miga, it’s a Huouyt.

  Flea recoiled and fought the urge to scrabble backwards. He held very still, trying to make sense of it. It was a Huouyt, but not Jer’ait.

  Jer’ait was standing watch over the Jreet. Even though the walls had been black and Flea had been as quiet as possible, his groundmate had caught him eavesdropping on the operation and had told him to go make himself useful.

  Joe screamed again. The Human’s vocal range was alarming, reverberating off the walls in what was obviously not pleasure.

  Flea glanced at the door. Locked. He could open it and escape, but that would leave the Huouyt alone with his Prime.

  Flea could have destroyed another creature in less than a tic. A Huouyt, however, was almost immune to his particular abilities. No sooner would Flea spit on him than the Huouyt would simply slough off the skin and dart him with a pen-tranquilizer.

  Yet he had to do something.

  The Huouyt reached for the Human again and Flea decided it was time to act. He dropped from the ceiling, landing on the Huouyt’s arm. Even as the Huouyt’s surprise was beginning to register, Flea spat, taking him full in the face, in the eyes. At the same time, he snipped off the arm.

  This time, it was the Huouyt who screamed.

  Flea knew he had to follow up his advantage quickly, before the alien could regenerate itself. He scuttled to the edge of the bed and, while the Huouyt stumbled backwards, Flea spat at his feet.

  The Huouyt fell over backwards, pinned by its Human ankle. Flea knew that wouldn’t last long, so he hopped from the bed and hovered over to the Huouyt’s face, filling in the rest of its eyes as he desperately tried to think of how to kill a Huouyt.

  The Huouyt’s unhurt arm slammed into Flea, swatting him with all the depressing power of a land-lubber. Flea hit the far wall and dropped to the floor in a daze. Vaguely, he noticed the Huouyt getting back to its feet, and Joe continued to lie in his bed, unable to help him. Flea eyed the Human with frustration. Strong enough to stomp him into an incoherent mush at a friendly jest, but not strong enough to lift his pinkie finger when it was needed.

  The Huouyt had sloughed off half its Human face, leaving the red, wormy appendages writhing in its forehead above new and awkwardly-placed eyes. “That,” the Huouyt said, his voice deadly, “Was a mistake.” He pulled his feet free of the floor, leaving red pieces of Human flesh still attached to the metal grating.

  On the bed, the Human twitched again, stronger this time. Time, Flea thought. I need to buy us time. Flea spat at the Huouyt again, once more pinning his feet to the floor. Then he again took out the eyes. Then the mouth, then the nose.

  “You wretched little pest!” the Huouyt screamed. Another slab of flesh sloughed off his face and into a puddle on the floor. The Huouyt’s enraged eyes moved in its head, calibrating themselves. Flea tried to spit again, but his glands couldn’t produce glue fast enough.

  Watching the Huouyt tear his foot from the ground a second time, Flea knew his time in the world was limited. He tried to get into the air, but one of his wings had broken in half in his fall. Desperately, he tried to scuttle his way towards the ceiling, but the Huouyt scraped him off the wall and threw him to the floor, where he stomped a cruel boot over his spitter.

  Unlike Joe, he knew how to really make it hurt. Flea was babbling incoherently in moments as the Huouyt ground his most sensitive apparatus into the hard metal.

  After several tics, the Huouyt let up just enough to allow Flea to recover some of his senses, a look of smug satisfaction over his face. “You furgish little worm. Just what did you think you were going to do, eh? There is nothing a simpering little fool like you can do to me that I can’t mend.”

  “I know,” Flea whimpered. A shadow fell in behind the Huouyt and Flea laughed through his pain. “But he can.”

  The Huouyt blinked and turned—just in time to receive a knife the length of Flea’s body in the center of its zora.

  The Huouyt collapsed like a machine that had lost its source of power. The Human followed it down and hacked its head from its body, tossing the result halfway across the room in disgust. “Mend that, leafmunch.”

  “It wore off faster than I thought it would,” Flea said, struggling back to his feet. “I thought it would be another two tics, at least.”

  The look on the Human’s face was thunderous. “I’ve been building up my resistance lately. What were you doing in my chambers?”

  “I was searching your belongings for something interesting.” Flea’s head cocked when he noticed the pattern etched into the Human’s chest. “That symbol seems familiar.”

  “It’s from a Sentinel,” Joe said. “Daviin bound to me.” Then, oddly, the Human’s entire body tightened and he looked like he was straining against something. “Get out,” he said through gritted teeth. “I will deal with the Huouyt.”

  Flea glanced at the beheaded Huouyt, then back at his Prime. “He gave you a truth serum, didn’t he?”

  “Yes,” the Human said automatically. His brows furrowed. “Get out. Now.” The Human went to the door and opened it.

  In reply, Flea scampered up the wall and clung to the ceiling, out of reach. “Why, Commander?” he said gleefully. He eyed the dead Huouyt to make sure it wasn’t about to resurrect itself, then said, “This could be so much fun.”

  When it was obvious Flea was not leaving, the Human’s face took on the hue of a Jreet’s body. “Flea…”

  “So you have your very own Sentin
el? Does anyone else know?”

  “Yes. Only Jer’ait.” The Human cursed and clenched a fist. He glanced up at Flea, then out the door.

  “You don’t want to leave,” Flea said. “Think of all the trouble you could get in out there if you had to tell the truth. Better to stay put until it wears off. Isn’t it, Commander?”

  “Yes,” Joe blurted.

  With a furious look that promised pain later, the Human slammed his fist against the door-lock, shutting it. “I guess you don’t remember what happened last time you cowered on the ceiling,” he growled. He reached for the nearest handy object—his boot—and hefted it.

  Flea sobered. “Ah, come on, Commander. Let me have my fun. I just saved your life.”

  The Human glanced reflexively at the dead Huouyt. Then his arm relaxed and he let the boot slide to the floor. His huge lungs drew in a deep breath and expelled it again. “Fine, Flea. I don’t have anything I need to hide from you, anyway.”

  “That’s more like it. Come stand underneath me a moment. My wing’s busted and only three of my legs are working right.”

  The Human did, and obligingly held out his arms to catch him. Flea was half-sure he would remove his arms at the last moment, letting him collide painfully with the floor, but the Human faithfully caught him and set him on the chair in the corner of the room. Then, sighing, Joe slumped onto the bed, sprawled out, staring at the ceiling much as he had been only tics before.

  Only this time, his chest and forearms were covered with bright red blood where he had performed the grisly task of hacking off the Huouyt’s head.

  Flea considered all the tantalizing things he could ask, then settled with, “Where did you get your scars?”

  “I told you. The Jreet.”

  “The other ones.”

  The Human lifted his head high enough to look at him. “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

  Flea laughed. “Of course I don’t. Where’d you get them?”

  The Human’s brow furrowed, but he said, “I was a Dhasha slave for a while in Basic.”

  That was interesting. “Why was the Huouyt trying to kill you?”