Forging Zero

by Sara King

“What’s that?” Maggie asked, wide-eyed.

  “Don’t worry about it, Mag,” Scott said, grinning.

  Slowly, to prove he wasn’t resisting, Joe went to his clothes. To the aliens, he said, “I’m getting dressed. You try shooting me with that thing and I’ll break you flimsy bastards in half. Understand me?”

  The one with the pen-shaped object pointed it at Joe.

  “Don’t!” Joe snapped, picking up his boots and shoving his feet inside. He winced as the cuts in his soles stung from the rough treatment. “Dammit, I’m getting dressed. See?” He began to dress as quickly as he could.

  The alien watched him a moment, then grunted and yanked a small translucent sheet of papery film from his chest. He ran the pen-shaped object across a slip of the clear blue film, leaving a squiggly mark. This it affixed to the wall above the bed.

  At Joe’s stunned expression, the white, squid-like alien gave him a flat electric stare and said, “In case anyone wonders where we are taking you for our obscene fornication rituals.”

  Joe’s jaw fell open.

  “You talk!” Maggie cried.

  “A bit. Your vocal cords are easy to make, but hard to control.” His voice was high-pitched and musical, like a eunuch in choir, almost too sing-song to understand.

  “You can’t make vocal cords,” Monk said matter-of-factly from the bed. “Mom taught music. Your vocal cords make sounds.”

  Unlike the Ooreiki, the downy creature showed no emotion in its flat face whatsoever. “Well, if we didn’t reproduce the cords, how would we reproduce the sounds?” When Monk frowned at him, he added, “Hurry, please. We are wasting time.”

  “All right,” Joe said, throwing his jacket over his shoulders reluctantly. “What do you want?”

  The alien looked him up and down and took a moment to reply, obviously considering whether or not it was worth wasting the breath to tell him. Finally, with a condescending sneer, he said, “Our employer, Ko-Na’leen, Representative of the Huouyt, wishes to see you.”

  Joe froze. “That guy who inspected the regiment yesterday?”

  The Huouyt closest to Joe glanced at his companion, clearly amused. “Ti’peth, if Ko-Na’leen does not want this one, I might have to claim him. He might liven up those long hours on the ship.” He looked back at Joe, the amusement gone in an instant. “Do you realize that referencing one of the Tribunal members so casually would get you sold to the Dhasha if it were within a Jreet’s hearing?”

  Joe stiffened, remembering the huge serpentine creatures that had shoved the little girl to the ground. “The Jreet?” He nervously glanced at the door, wondering if any of the snakelike monsters had followed them inside.

  It wasn’t a question, but the Huouyt took it as one. “They’re the bodyservants of the Representatives of Congress--the only species that can kill a Dhasha in true hand-to-hand combat. They train as Sentinels for their entire lifetimes before choosing their wards. Ko-Na’leen has had over two hundred pledge to him. More than twice that of any Representative in a thousand turns.”

  Joe’s face twisted. “They’re pricks.”

  “You should learn to guard your words,” the closest Huouyt warned. “You never know when a Jreet is around, and if they hear you, they will claim you so they can torment you for years for your disrespect.”

  Joe recoiled. “Claim me? I’m a soldier.”

  “Not yet,” the one guarding the door replied. “Right now you are fair game to any ranking citizen who shows any interest in you.”

  “Wait a minute!” Joe shouted. “They recruited us for the army. Not to be some ball-less snake’s slave!”

  “Then I advise you watch your tongue,” the Huouyt said. “But the question is moot, anyway. Ko-Na’leen has already claimed you.”

  Joe’s heart began hammering. It sounded like they were about to take him from his groundteam. Permanently.

  “Now follow us, please.” The Huouyt motioned toward the front of the building.

  “No.” Joe took a step backwards, toward the wall.

  The Huouyt’s electric-blue eyes sharpened predatorily fast. “You have no choice, boy.”

  “Actually, he does,” Libby said from the bed. “The rules say a Congressional citizen can only claim recruits with no formal rank.” She gestured at the triangle on Joe’s chest. “He’s not just a ground leader anymore. He’s the squad leader for Fourth Platoon.”

  In that moment, Joe could have kissed Libby’s feet.

  To Joe, the two Huouyt looked like owls that had suddenly been defeathered, dumped in bleach, and electrocuted. They stared at the silver symbol on his chest and Joe could almost see their plans changing in their heads. They glanced at each other, obviously considering taking him anyway.

  “Want us to get Battlemaster Nebil?” Libby said, getting up. “He’s sleeping in the next room. All I’d have to do is yell.” She held the aliens’ eyes unflinchingly. Joe stared at her, wondering where she got the courage. They both knew Nebil couldn’t hear them if they shouted, not with the wall of diamond separating them.

  The Huouyt ignored her as if she didn’t exist. His accusing electric eyes were on Joe, and he sounded angry. “When did this happen? You were a still ground leader yesterday afternoon when Ko-Na’leen saw you.”

  “Yesterday evening,” Libby said.

  “He marches good,” Maggie added.

  The Huouyt just gave him a flat, almost sociopathic stare. “Why?”

  “Nebil decided he liked the way my butt looked in cammies,” Joe said, crossing his arms. “If that’s all you wanted, you should leave.”

  The downy cilia moved in sudden, vicious waves upon the Huouyt’s body, then suddenly relaxed. “I was going to wait to tell you, but since you are being difficult, I’ll tell you here. Representative Ko-Na’leen has questions about your age. He believes you were wrongly enlisted. He wants to send you home.”

  Joe tensed. They wanted to send him home?

  “You’re lying,” Libby said. “You just said he wanted to claim him as a slave.”

  “For his own good,” the closest Huouyt said. “If it was discovered that he was here illegally and then discharged, the Dhasha would take him before he even had a chance to exit the proceedings.”

  “Don’t believe them, Joe,” Libby said, her unwavering gaze leveled on the Huouyt. “They’re lying.”

  “Ko-Na’leen is a believer in law, else he wouldn’t be on the Tribunal,” the closest alien said to Joe, still ignoring Libby. “If the Ooreiki broke the law when they took you, it is his way to put things right.”

  Joe ached inside at the thought of seeing his family again. He looked away.

  “Joe!” Libby said. “They’re just trying to get you out of the barracks.” She was glaring at the aliens again, clearly waiting for Joe to back her up.

  “I’ll go,” Joe whispered.

  Libby flinched and turned to stare at Joe, looking stricken.

  “What’s going on?” Maggie asked, her small voice suddenly going high with worry. She was glancing from Joe to the aliens and back, fear in her eyes. “What’s going on, Joe?”

  “Don’t worry about it, Mag,” Joe said. He moved toward the aliens, leaving his groundmates staring after him in confusion. “Let’s go.” Behind him, he felt Libby turn away.

  The two Huouyt quickly ushered Joe outside and to a very elaborate, palanquin-type metal platform parked outside, giving him no chance to change his mind. No sooner had he climbed aboard their haauk then they were airborne and moving at high speeds toward the civilian side of the city.

  The building they aimed for was taller than any of those nearby, two or three hundred stories, easy. “Only the First Citizen gets higher quarters,” the pilot said proudly as they approached. “It is a place of honor in the city.”

  Joe swallowed and closed his eyes. He’d never been afraid of heights, but the vast emptiness between him and the ground left his stomach weak and his skin sweaty.

  The craft settled in a round indentation o
n the roof of the building. “This way,” the Huouyt said, disembarking the platform and walking to a dark staircase cut into the glossy black stone.

  This far up, the air was thinner and not as putrid. Still, Joe followed quickly, feeling as if the slightest gust of wind would whip him off the building and into the empty space beyond. As he stepped onto the staircase, Joe saw a brief crimson flash of a large serpentine body down below before it was gone again.

  His guide saw it, too. The Huouyt’s face remained utterly expressionless, but his voice held irritation when he said, “One of the new Jreet trainees. His commander will hear of his carelessness.”

  The Huouyt made Joe lead the way down the narrow passage. As Joe felt his way down the glassy black stairway, Joe got the sinking feeling he had made a mistake. Libby’s look of betrayal haunted him, slowing his steps even further.

  The hallway ended abruptly in a door. His guide pushed past him long enough to open it, then motioned Joe inside.

  Behind the door, the first thing Joe noticed was the air. It was fresh and full of oxygen—such a relief that it took him a moment to realize his guide was locking the door behind them.

  Before Joe could comment on it, though, his breath left him at the sight of the Representative’s inner sanctum. He had been expecting a nice chamber for a member of the Tribunal, but the palace that unfolded in the hallway before him left his mind reeling. The black walls were alive with colorful tapestries, and elegant carvings of alien objects decorated every niche. Gold and silver and other colorful metals had been inlaid into the perfectly smooth, glassy floors in eye-boggling scenes of alien battles and scenic alien landscapes. A thirty-foot golden statue of the Huouyt who had examined Joe’s kasja stood in the center of the hall, with things looking like fishing worms jutting from the slit above its eyes.

  Everywhere, tables, floors, and corners were all piled with statues, carvings, rugs, paintings, and gemstone-encrusted vessels. It was enough wealth, in one place, to make a sultan or a pharaoh weep. Joe could only stare.

  “Ooreiki are famous for their art,” a translator from across the room said. “Representatives will often debate for several turns to obtain the right to visit an Ooreiki planet, simply for the gifts they provide.”

  Joe turned toward the sound of the voice.

  The Huouyt with the cloth-of-gold cape stood in the corner, watching him, a small golden translator dangling from his shimmering metal clothing. His cigar-shaped chest was fitted with a swath of silver cloth that looked as if it weighed fifty pounds. Worked into the front in alternating colors of metal gleamed the symbol of the Tribunal—three red circles inside a silver ring, surrounded by eight blue circles formed into two sides facing off against each other. Joe could feel the power radiating from this creature, and it made his palms sweaty.

  “Forgive the mess,” Representative Na’leen said, giving the piles of treasure a dismissive gesture. “My slaves are still sorting through my gifts.”

  Joe flinched at ‘slaves,’ but he couldn’t find the words to reply.

  The alien behind Joe made a musical twitter and Representative Na’leen blinked his big fishy eyes and responded in kind. The two Huouyt then engaged in a long string of whale sounds until the assistant suddenly turned and departed.

  When the Representative turned on his translator again, he was not happy. “Ti’peth says I can’t have you.”

  Joe stiffened. “I’m a Squad Leader for Fourth Platoon.”

  “You must be very proud,” Representative Na’leen said dryly.

  Joe suddenly felt ashamed. After trying so hard to win Nebil’s approval on the grounds the evening before, he had been proud. Proud of a pathetic alien rank that had been given to him by an enemy army, an insignificant skidmark on the seat of his brother’s underwear compared to the power of the creature in front of him.

  “You would enjoy being in my service, Human. Zol’jib and Ti’peth have gained much status in society, much more than they would have as Eelorian draftees.”

  “They said you might be able to get me home. That’s why I came.”

  The Huouyt gave him a long, completely unreadable stare. “Come with me,” Representative Na’leen said.

  Joe lost all sense of direction as the Huouyt led him down halls and passageways, through a silken curtain to a small room with a hovering blue orb in the far corner of the room. As Joe drew close, he could feel the warmth emanating from it and backed away, wary.

  “It’s the heating element,” Representative Na’leen said. “They ban fire on this miserable planet. Too many combustibles.” Na’leen mounted a large black pedestal in the center of the room and immersed himself in the pool of liquid it held, golden cloth cape and all, sloshing waves over the side of the bowl. “What’s your name, Human?”

  “Joe Dobbs.” Joe hadn’t intended to tell him, but something about the alien’s electric-blue stare made him blurt out things he had meant to keep to himself. . It almost felt like Representative Na’leen could already read his mind and was just waiting to catch him in a lie.

  Representative Na’leen removed the golden translator and set it on the lip of the pool beside him. Then he sank into the pool, submersing himself completely. The water began to click and vibrate and the translator on the lip of the pool said, “Come up here where I can see you.”

  Joe climbed the ramp in trepidation, the tread of his boots catching on the ribs carved into the black stone. As soon as he was at the top, he recoiled. Under the water, jutting from the slit above the creature’s eyes, a blossom of hundreds of little red worms wriggled around like something on a coral reef. Joe felt his stomach lurch and he backed up a step.

  “Are you hungry?” Still submersed, Representative Na’leen shoved a bowl of small, gummy orange discs toward him along the lip of the pool. When Joe declined, the Huouyt plucked one from the pile and delivered it to the wriggling worms protruding from his face. The worms locked around it and dragged the morsel deeper into the Representative’s body while Joe watched in horror.

  “Do you know why you are here?”

  Joe tore his gaze away from the writhing worms. He had to stare at Representative Na’leen’s face a moment before he could remember. “They said you might be able to get me home.”

  Na’leen watched him. “The kasja you are wearing is an Ooreiki war medal. Specifically crafted for a battlemaster who survived the fight on Ubashin. It is very valuable to collectors, since so few Ooreiki actually survived that fight, almost none of them of the rank of battlemaster or below. Those that received them guard them jealously, which is why I know you did not steal it. The only two Ubashin veterans in the city of Alishai happen to be in your Battalion. Both of them were watching me when I raised your sleeve.” Representative Na’leen paused, his electric gaze boring into Joe’s skull. “Why did Secondary Commander Kihgl give you his kasja, boy?”

  “I don’t know,” Joe said truthfully.

  “He said nothing when he gave it to you?”

  “He said to—” Joe cut himself off, realizing he didn’t want to involve Battlemaster Nebil. “He said it was to show his decision.”

  Representative Na’leen assumed he was speaking of his new rank as a squad leader and quickly cut him off. “A lie. Your uniform shows your rank, not a kasja you didn’t earn.” Representative Na’leen pointed at the silver triangle on his chest. It was exactly like the one that Battlemaster Nebil wore except it lacked a fourth point and did not have the circle around it that Nebil’s had. By itself, without the protective ring that signified a full-fledged soldier, Joe’s rank looked naked. Childish.

  “I was curious why he would do such a thing, so I examined his file. It seems Kihgl’s personality underwent a radical shift after visiting Reuthos forty turns ago. His command even went so far to have him evaluated to make sure one of my kind hadn’t assumed his identity, as some of us are wont to do.” Representative Na’leen’s flattened tentacle dropped another orange morsel into the water above the wriggling wormy append
age in his face. “I find the fact that he was examined for a Huouyt to be especially telling—it had to have been something serious for his command to request a screening.”

  The Huouyt paused, watching Joe unflinchingly as his wormy appendage slowly drew the orange morsel into its head.

  Examined…for a Huouyt?

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Joe demanded.

  The water moaned and clicked with Representative Na’leen’s reply. “Evolutionarily, before Congress discovered them, my kind were forced to mimic other creatures in order to survive.” Representative Na’leen dropped another gummy orange disc into the water. The Huouyt paused, watching Joe unflinchingly through his bath as his wormy appendage slowly drew the orange morsel into its head.

  Joe frowned, both fascinated and disgusted by the display. “Mimic them how?” He couldn’t see how this…thing…could mimic anyone. It looked like a cross between a jellyfish, a squid, and some odd new form of coral.

  Still underwater, Representative Na’leen waved a paddle-like hand in dismissal. “We were discussing Kihgl. Not only did he survive the Dhasha on Ubashin, but he also managed to capture a Huouyt assassin three days out of Planetary Ops training. Two great feats that have made him a sort of hero to the Ooreiki here. Some of his other traits fascinate me. He has at least two Congressional victories credited to his name, and is also of the vkala caste—a hardship among the Ooreiki like no other.” The Huouyt hesitated, peering up at Joe through the water. “Do you know what that means?”

  Joe swallowed and shook his head, not really wanting to discuss Kihgl.

  “Vkala are a stubborn remnant from an intentional genetic manipulation many eons ago, during the formation of Congress. They are the reason why genetic experimentation is now banned. Because the Ooreiki would not go to Vora otherwise, the Ayhi took the Jreet’s immunity to fire and gave it to the Ooreiki delegates in order to broker a peace between the first eight nations.”

  Joe frowned. “They’re immune to fire? Wouldn’t that be, like, a good thing?”

  The Huouyt made a sound of disdain. “Not to the Ooreiki. To them, it is a symbol of their ancestors’ betrayal. They throw all vkala children into a pen with onen and allow the beasts to eat them as penance for their ancestors’ sins. About one in ten thousand survive that pit battle. And yet, not only did Kihgl survive the vkala cleansing, but he somehow rose to become a Congressional hero.” The Huouyt paused, watching Joe with his unnerving eyes. “So why has he given you, a Human recruit, what most Ubashin historians would die to have?”