by Sara King
“We found the akarit,” the Peacemaker said. “Right where she said it would be.”
Tril found himself growing irritated with this recruit who would so easily betray her groundmate. “Why are you turning on him now?”
“She almost didn’t make it. We had to resuscitate her when we stormed the depot. She was put in a different groundteam. Zero doesn’t even know she survived.”
Tril held the recruit’s eyes. “So why are you betraying him?”
She returned his gaze coldly. “My friends all went back to Earth in bodybags because of him.”
“Zero also had this,” the Peacemaker said, handing a small red object to Tril. “Contraband from Earth. Possibly a symbol of his true leanings.”
Tril took the knife, remembering that Commander Linin had been furious when they hadn’t been able to find it in his gear after his screaming-match with Zero. He wondered briefly how he had managed to hide it all of this time.
“It’s a symbol of nothing,” Tril said. “A memento, nothing more.”
“Still, it is forbidden,” the Peacemaker insisted. “We could hold it against him in a trial. Until then, we told his battlemaster to give him double chores for a turn for having it. We also told him to make sure Zero wears his uniform correctly from now on.”
Tril gave an indifferent grunt.
“Overseer, this matter deserves a formal investigation. Normally, I would simply take it up with his superiors and would not involve you, but I realize the sensitive nature of this particular case, since Zero was the one who rescued you in the—”
“No one rescued me,” Tril snapped.
The Peacemaker bowed. “Then I shall attend to the matter myself, sir.” He turned to leave.
“Stop,” Tril commanded. “What exactly do you plan to do?”
The Peacemaker hesitated. In that instant, Tril knew that it was only a matter of time before Zero wound up in a cell on Levren.
“Well?”
“We must test his loyalties, sir.”
“He helped to squash the rebellion,” Tril retorted. “He took untrained recruits against Jreet and Va’ga-trained Huouyt and won a fight only Planetary Ops had any right to win. What more proof of his loyalty do you need?
“He carried an akarit,” the Peacemaker said. “I’m sure that as soon as we begin questioning him properly, he would collaborate his groundmate’s story.”
“No.”
“Sir, he knew exactly where to find Representative Na’leen and the other rebel leaders. If that is not evidence of guilt, then I am in the wrong profession. I know that I need only test him and the lies will start pouring out.”
“No,” Tril heard himself repeat. “Test him, but do it here, in my office, while I watch. I will not have you abusing a Congressional hero so that you can wring a phony confession from him.”
The Peacemaker’s eyes hardened in anger. “Sir, I can’t work under those conditions.”
“You will,” Tril said, “Or I will draft some letters suggesting that Kophati Peacemakers are wasting their time chasing ghosts and that’s why Na’leen was able to build his rebellion under your noses.”
The Huouyt’s eerie electric-blue eyes fixed on him. “And if I prove this Zero is not a loyal and willing soldier of the Congressional Army?”
“You may have him.”
The Peacemaker gave Tril a bitter nod and left, taking the recruit with him.
Tril turned the Earth artifact in his sensitive, newly-grown fingers. The surfaces of the object were gleaming smooth in patches and the white cross had been rubbed almost completely off. Falling rubble had gouged deep marks in the sides and bent the corkscrew slightly out of place.
Tril set it aside. Something brought you down into Na’leen’s lair, Zero. Pray it was your desire to help save Congress, not your desire to destroy it.
#
“No.”
“Zero, you have half a tic to take them down or I will do it for you.”
“You can try,” Joe snarled, gripping a sleeve with tight fingers. “My last battlemaster let me wear them.”
“I am not Nebil,” Battlemaster Gokli said, his voice cold. “Do not make me prove it.”
Joe glanced from Battlemaster Gokli to the other three Ooreiki he had brought into the barracks with him that morning. Behind him, his platoon waited. They’d been together just over a turn, now, and they best kill rate in the regiment. Joe had been about to take them to breakfast when Gokli came to demand they take down their sleeves. Not one member of his platoon had complied.
Gokli was pissed.
“So who ordered it?” Joe demanded. “Was it Tril? Well you can tell that vaghi to go burn himself.”
“Overseer Tril had nothing to do with it,” Gokli said. “Zero, you have used up my patience.” His battlemaster nodded at the other Ooreiki and they began to surround him.
Without his biosuit, Joe didn’t stand a chance against three Ooreiki. Still, he couldn’t will himself to do as they ordered. It felt like a betrayal.
“Back off,” Joe warned. “I’m not doing it.” He tore a clothes chest off the ground, ready to throw it at the first Ooreiki to come at him.
Gokli stopped, staring at the chest in his arms. “Disobedience in a soldier is punishable by death, Zero.”
“Then kill me,” Joe snapped, “And stop wasting my time.”
The four Ooreiki converged on him. Joe threw the chest, knocking that Ooreiki back, but the three others grabbed his arms before he could dodge out of the way. Joe struggled and Gokli tightened his grip until he cried out. Then another reached out to rip off Joe’s cammi jacket. Joe slammed his heel into the third Ooreiki’s abdomen, a young battlemaster that reminded him of Aneeir. The Ooreiki stumbled backwards, cradling the sensitive spot protecting his oorei. Joe kicked him again, this time in the head.
The Ooreiki fell over.
“Zero!” Gokli wrapped a stinging tentacle around his neck and jerked him back until he was bent over almost double. “That was your last mistake, recruit. You’ve caused me enough trouble for a whole platoon. The Peacemakers can have you.”
Joe struggled for breath, his vision darkening around the edges, blood pounding like thunder in his ears.
Not even the roar of his pulse, however, could drown out the sound of his grounders swarming the Ooreiki. In a panic, Joe tried to call them off, but couldn’t make out more than a strangled groan. His last thought before he passed out was, Oh soot. They’ll kill us all.
#
Joe stepped into the cool, well-kempt Ooreiki office and immediately felt a bitter taste in his mouth when he saw Overseer Tril sitting behind a desk. “What do you want?”
A brightly-dressed Ooreiki immediately moved toward him from across the room. “Are you the recruit battlemaster that led your untrained platoon into Na’leen’s den to help bring Kophat back under Congressional control? The recruit named Zero?”
“My name is Joe.”
Joe caught the flicker of a glance between the civilian and Tril. He tensed.
“Were you groundmates with a recruit One? She was in Kihgl’s battalion with you, I believe.”
“She’s dead.”
“She’s alive,” the Ooreiki corrected. “She was unfortunately permanently crippled, though, despite our best attempts at rejuvenation. We fixed her wounds to the best of our abilities and sent her back to Earth on our fastest ship. She’s got a full pension and lives in style, as befits a Congressional hero.”
Joe’s heart began to hammer. “You sent Libby home?”
The Ooreiki smiled. “It is always much more beneficial to us to send our heroes back to their home planets so they can serve as examples and recruit more of their species for the army. That’s why we’re offering to send you with her.”
I can go home. Joe found it hard to breathe. They’re offering to send me home.
“What about the others?” he heard himself ask. “Did you save anyone else?”
The Ooreiki gave him an apologe
tic look. “She had her spine severed by a Jreet’s ovi, which we caught in time. She was the only one. Nothing in the universe can stop plasma or Jreet poison once it has entered its target.”
Joe drew a shaky breath. He had hoped someone had lived, but he had never guessed it would be Libby. He was relieved and saddened at the same time. “Is she happy on Earth? She really wanted to be a soldier.”
“Every recruit says that, but doesn’t really mean it,” the Ooreiki said. “She’s relieved to be back, I assure you.”
Joe swallowed hard. “And you want to send me back, too.”
“With full pension and benefits,” the Ooreiki replied. “Since Earth’s economy is still adjusting to Congressional trade, Congressional credit is worth more than ruvmestin. Considering your record… You’d live like a king, Zero.”
“Joe.”
The Ooreiki civilian’s smile broke for an instant, showing a flash of irritation, but it was quickly smothered. “Joe. What do you say? You can leave the Army behind forever, never have to lift a weapon again in your life. It’s entirely your choice, of course, but it would be in our best interest to make sure you live in style back on Earth.” He tilted his head, giving Joe the Ooreiki version of a wink. “Good PR, you know?”
Joe barely heard him. “You’ll take me to see Libby?” Joe asked. His heart ached to explain things to her, to apologize.
The Ooreiki’s face wrinkled in a broad smile. “Absolutely.”
Joe’s pulse was thudding in his ears. He could see it now. His return, his mother’s weeping, Sam’s happy shouts. They could have fresh bread and fruit and lasagna and all the other foods he’d gone without for the past year. He might even be able to convince Libby not to hate him. Maybe she could even like him again. He doubted any other girl would understand him, after everything they’d been through.
Joe’s eye caught on the small bit of red on Commander Tril’s desk. He remembered his dad, stepping into the darkness.
Then he thought of Battlemaster Nebil, hung up on the rack like meat in a butcher’s shop. He thought of Elf and Scott and Maggie and Monk. He thought of Prince Bagkhal, who owned no Takki, who had dug him from the rubble of the ekhta’s tower with his own claws.
“No.”
The Ooreiki civilian’s sudah began to flutter. “What?”
“No,” Joe said, turning to the door. “I’m staying.”
“Wait,” the civilian snapped, “I’ve already scheduled a ship. Your account has already received its first pension payment. Your family is expecting you. Here.” The civilian popped a small chip into the vidscreen embedded in Overseer Tril’s desk. Instantly, his mom’s picture appeared, her face beaming in a smile. She’d gotten a new perm and the bags were gone from under her eyes.
“Joe!” she said, then blushed embarrassedly. “They say this is gonna get to you, but I feel kind of stupid talking to a little box. It’s like two inches tall, Joe. It’s so hard to believe it’s— Anyway, are you really coming home, Joe? They say you’re a hero. Sam can’t wait to see you. We got a new dog. A lab. Cute little chocolate thing. Named it Harry, after Dad. Oh, Joe, I’m so excited you’re coming home! I just wish your father could be here to see it. We had a service for him a week after you left. Mom came down with Aunt Caroline. They made a collage of his time in the Marines that was really nice. Sam—”
“I told you no,” Joe said, cutting off the rest of the feed himself. The civilian seemed startled that he knew how to do so, but quickly recovered.
“We have everything arranged, Zero. All you have to do is climb on the ship. You’re a Congressional hero. We treat our heroes like kings.”
Joe was still scowling at the vidscreen. “Can you send a message for me, like you did with my mom?”
The civilian blinked at him, and it was Tril who said, “Of course.”
“Good. I want to tell Libby I’m sorry. I disappointed her. I almost got her killed. She probably went back to Earth because she hates me. To get away from me. I don’t blame her, but there was a mistake. She didn’t understand. Tell her I couldn’t move.”
“Excuse me?”
“Tell her I couldn’t move. When Zol’jib had me beside him, he’d used some drug on me. Paralyzed me. She’ll understand.”
The civilian glanced at Tril, who nodded.
“I always thought Libby’d be the last of any of us to go back willingly.” Joe stared at his feet, wondering how it turned out this way, why he couldn’t just let them take him home. He tried to find the desire to tell the Ooreiki he’d changed his mind, but it wouldn’t come. “I guess if she was crippled, though…” He glanced at the Ooreiki anxiously. “Was it bad?”
“She can’t use her legs.”
“Oh,” Joe whispered, not sure what to say. He took a deep breath, then let it out through his teeth, trying to imagine Libby without being able to kick something in the head if it looked at her funny. The thought brought tears to his eyes, which he quickly wiped away. “Tell her it should’ve been me, okay? And that she was the better Congie.”
The Ooreiki civilian’s sticky eyes sharpened. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing,” Joe said softly. “Just that she was right. I didn’t try hard enough, and I got everybody killed. I should’ve paid more attention in class, listened more…” He took a shuddering breath and looked away before that train of thought slammed him right back to those wretched, miserably lonely weeks after Bagkhal had dug him from Na’leen’s command center. It had taken him almost nine rotations to get to the point where the simple thought of losing everyone didn’t make him a weeping wreck. Clearing his throat, he said, “Can you tell my mom I’m sorry? She won’t understand, but I can’t come back. I can’t leave the Army. I’m a Congie, now. I just wish—” Joe took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Is there much more on that tape?”
“Kkee,” the civilian replied. “At least thirty-six tics.”
“Can I have it?”
The Ooreiki nodded, looking a bit stunned.
“Thanks.” Joe took the chip and turned to go.
“Zero. Stay for a moment.”
Joe turned to glance at Overseer Tril. The civilian gave him one long look, then brushed past him on the way out the door.
“Here,” Tril said, holding an object out to him.
Joe took it, staring down at the red surface uncomprehendingly. His fingers recognized it before anything else, and his breath left him. “Dad’s knife.” It was scraped and battered from the collapse of the barracks, but still functioning. His fingertips automatically found the patches he had worn smooth over his long, homesick nights and he felt a wave of relief so strong it left him dizzy. “I thought I’d lost it.”
“Peacemakers found it and recognized it as an Earth artifact. They were going to have it destroyed, but I figured you’d get more use out of it.”
Joe nodded, speechless with gratitude.
“And here.” Tril handed Joe Kihgl’s kasja. The golden markings on it glowed with Celtic beauty. At Joe’s stunned look, he said, “If they ask, it’s Nebil’s, not Kihgl’s. They survived Ubashin together. But, even if it were Nebil’s, he wouldn’t object. Nebil thought you were his best student.”
Joe took Kihgl’s kasja gingerly. “He did?” His throat felt tight. His vision was blurring. Joe wiped his eyes viciously.
“He wanted you to have battlemaster from the beginning. I told him no. He gave it to you anyway. Twice. He was a Prime once, you know. Once they get that eighth point, there’s no going back. It was Hell having him under my command.”
Joe stared down at the kasja and nodded, overwhelmed.
Tril’s eyes caught on Joe’s sleeves, now fully extended down to the cuffs. Joe had lost battlemaster over the episode. Again.
“I’ll inform your commander you can wear your uniform any way you like from now on. Congress does appreciate its heroes, Zero.”
Joe could not speak.
A long silence hung between them. Then, Tril said, “You made
the right decision.”
“I know,” Joe whispered.
Tril’s sudah gave a surprised flutter. “You do?”
Joe nodded and somehow found his voice. “I’m like my dad. He was a Marine before he—died.” He felt his vision blurring again and did nothing to stop it. “I’ve got a new groundteam. Not like my old one, but they survived the war and they’re pretty smart. They need me, too. Most of them lost everyone when the Huouyt blew up the barracks. I can’t leave them. I can’t leave the Army.”
Joe glanced down at his knife and forced himself to laugh. “Besides, I’m not about to go through a whole turn of this soot not to graduate.”
“You’ll graduate,” Tril assured him. “They’ve lost too many soldiers not to graduate even their most…problematic…recruits.”
“Thanks,” Joe said. “For everything.”
Tril nodded once. “Good luck, Zero.”
CHAPTER 41: The Congie
Joe graduated, as Tril predicted. The ceremony was a full regiment formation where every battlemaster went down the lines to give each recruit a circle and personal congratulations, along with the first alien recognition of their real names since the Draft.
Joe was one of the ninety recruit battlemasters who got their ranks from the Prime Commander himself. Along with their circles, the new soldiers got warnings that depended on how they had managed their recruits during the last two turns. “Battle is not a game to brag about, Pete,” the Prime said to the boy three ranks down from Joe. “You’re still soft. You’ll learn that when you face a real foe.” Only then did he place the ranking device against the recruit’s chest. When he reached the next one, he said the same thing. “Your training’s not over, Jessica. You’re soldiers now, but you aren’t Congies until friends die under your command.” The girl beside Joe received a similar warning. “Spend more time talking with your platoon, Mary. Get to know them. Sometimes saving lives must override strategy. Once you leave here, their deaths are always on your conscience.” The girl in question blushed and looked at her feet, for it had been she who had intentionally killed her entire platoon to retrieve the last flag.