Forging Zero (16 page)

The military subjects especially
fascinated him.  When Battlemaster Nebil taught him to take his rifle apart and
put it back together, Joe only needed to see the demonstration once before he
could do it on his own.  When taught the differences between laser and other
energy weapons, Joe could identify them on sight from then on.

In fact, for the first time in
his life, Joe actually found himself excelling in classes.  He found himself
putting together facts that the instructors didn’t even mention, all of the
pieces of the alien puzzle fitting together in his head.  Joe knew he shouldn’t
enjoy learning what the enemy wanted him to know, but he couldn’t help
himself.  It was as if everything was already in his brain, waiting to be
brought to the surface.

Of all the other children, only
Libby seemed to match him class-for-class.  While Scott, Elf, and Maggie
struggled with the knowledge and had to be told again and again, Libby
complained that they were going too slowly.  Actually looking somewhat pleased
with that, Battlemaster Nebil gave Libby and a few other volunteers newer and
harder things to learn, teaching this advanced class on weaponry himself. 

It made Joe envious, but he felt
like he would be betraying his home if he asked to join them, so he feigned
ignorance, stuck with the slower class, and secretly listened to Libby’s
instruction from afar.  After all, he didn’t plan to stay with the Ooreiki. 
First chance he got, he still had to find a way back to San Diego. 

Tril was the only alien who even
came close to alleviating Joe’s worries about Earth.

“Last I
heard, they sent a Human Representative to Koliinaat,” Tril said, when Joe
asked.  “If they did, they’re safe, as long as they don’t do something stupid. 
Sentient species have special protection from the Regency.”

“What
is Koliinaat?” Joe asked.

Commander
Tril gave him a hard look.  “Koliinaat is the seat of Congressional
government.  It’s the largest artificial construction in the known universe, a
product of millions of years of construction and care, an unparalleled
masterpiece of technology.  It houses the First Citizen, the Tribunal, and the
Regency.  Over three thousand species’ Representatives are quartered there.”

Joe
felt himself staring.  “Three
thousand?  Species?
  But Small Commander
Linin’s only taught us about
five.”
 

Tril scowled
at him.  “He chose the most important.  It is impossible to pack your limited Human
brains with that much information in just a few days.” 

“But
there’s three
thousand
different types of aliens?” Joe insisted.

“More,”
Tril said.  “Some are slaves.  Some are still evolving.  And some are extinct. 
But once a species becomes a member of Congress, they will always retain a
Representative at Koliinaat.  The Watcher keeps them all alive even after their
species dies off, in case their planets recover or a lost colony returns. 
There are even more species in galaxies so distant that it takes whole turns to
visit or communicate with them, even with our advanced technology.  Those races
have smaller Regencies to rule them, which in turn bow to the wisdom of
Koliinaat.  Further, we plan on finding more.  Koliinaat’s Regency seats are
only half full.  Exploration of our universe is not even close to complete.”

Joe again found the enormity of
the problem staring him in the face.  Earth was outnumbered, maybe millions to
one. Humanity needed more than numbers to regain its independence.  It needed
weapons, ships, raw materials, science…  It needed some kind of miracle.

Joe wondered if his dad had
really understood what he was up against.  Remembering the way he’d left that
night, never to come home, Joe was pretty sure he had.

Yet, thinking of his father, Joe
frowned.  His father’s face seemed fuzzy in his mind.  In fact, everything
about Earth felt vague, almost like they were feeding them some drug to make
the memories just slip away.  Joe was brooding over this when a tall, bony girl
took him by the arm and pulled him out of the cafeteria line.

She looked twelve, but she
already had a line in her brow.  Joe recognized her as the piranha-looking girl
who had asked Nebil if she could hit her groundmates.

“What?” Joe snapped.  He was
irritated because he could not recall his dad’s favorite color. 
What kind
of son can’t remember his dad’s favorite color?  I’ve heard it a hundred times
before.  I just need to concentrate harder…

The
girl jutted out her chin even further.  “Well, if you’re gonna be like that,
maybe you don’t want it.”

“Want what?” Joe said, focusing
his attention on the wiry girl.  She had the cocky look of a bully, someone who
was used to getting what they wanted.

“You sure?  Maybe I’m having
second thoughts.”  The girl pulled her fist away, hiding its contents, enjoying
his confusion.

“Go screw with somebody else,”
Joe said. 
What’s Dad’s color?  I
know
this.

The girl seemed to consider, then
held something small and red out to him.  “You dropped this, back on the first
day when they beat you up.”

Joe’s
breath sucked in.  It was his Dad’s Swiss Army knife.  He snatched it out of
her hand, unable to believe that it was real.  The girl watched as he reverently
pried open a blade, feeling the smooth red plastic in his fingers. 

Red.
 
Joe blinked. 
His favorite color is red.
 
In a whisper, he said, “Thank you.” 
He held out his hand.  “I’m Joe.  This is Monk.”  The other members of his
groundteam were holding their spot in the cafeteria line.

The bony girl gave Joe a look
like he had grown beetle antennae, ignoring his outstretched hand.  “You use
your real names?”

“Why not?” Joe asked.

“Because they’ll
punish
you,” the girl said.  “They told us to use
numbers
.”

Joe
shrugged.  “Until they kill me, I really don’t care.”

The
girl frowned at him.  “Hasn’t anyone told on you yet?”

“Like
who?”

“Like
her,
”
the girl said, jabbing a finger at Monk.

Monk’s
eyes darkened.  “I’m not gonna tell.”

“
They
tell on
me,
” she said, pointing at the kids behind her.

“Then
you’re a bad ground leader,” Maggie said, helpfully.

Joe did
not like the look the girl gave to Maggie.  He stepped between them.  “It was
really nice of you to find my knife.”

The
piranha-girl snorted.  “I only gave it back so you’d help me.”

Joe prickled at her tone.  “Help
you do what?”

“We almost didn’t get to eat last
time Tril made us run for the balls.  From now on, you can get a ball for my
group first, then get yourself one.”

Joe stared at her, wondering if
the girl was from the special bus.  “What’s your name?” 

“I’m Sasha.”  She sneered at him. 
“You’re gonna help me if you wanna keep your knife, Zero.”

“I’m not helping you.” 

“Then I’ll tell the aliens about
it,” Sasha warned.

“Then we’ll tell the aliens how
you
hid
it from them,” Monk said.

Sasha’s
eyes narrowed.  “If you’re not gonna help me, give me back my knife.”

Joe’s hand clenched reflexively
over his father’s knife.  “
My
knife.”

“It’s
mine.  I found it,” Sasha said.  “Give it back.”  She made a grab for it.

“Screw off,” Joe said, putting
his back between her and the pocketknife.

Sasha kicked him in the side of
the leg.  It wasn’t enough to tear tendons, but it bent his knee painfully
sideways, making his leg collapse out from under him.  He threw out his hands
to catch himself and Sasha bent to take the knife from him as he fell.  Instead
of stopping his fall with his hands, Joe slammed all of his weight onto his
knee and grabbed her collar, jerking her forward until her face was only inches
from his.

“Back.  Off.”  Every ounce of him
wanted to smash her head into the wall for what she just tried to pull.  “The
knife is mine.  You try to take it again and you’ll wish the aliens had put you
up there with me during the Choosing ceremony.  Get me?”

The look of triumph drained from
Sasha’s face and she struggled against his fist, terror brightening her eyes. 
Joe let her squirm for a few moments before letting her go.  She stumbled
backwards, pale as a corpse.  Her fear, however, was quickly replaced with
angry promise on her piranha-like face.  She sneered as Monk helped Joe to his
feet.

“You won’t always be the big
one,” Sasha said.  “Someday I’ll be big enough to beat you up, then I’ll take
my knife back and eat your food in front of you.  Maybe if I’m really nice I’ll
let you lick the bowl.” 

“Maybe if Joe’s really nice
right
now,
he won’t make you eat off the floor,” Scott said. 

“Yeah,” Monk said, sticking out
her tongue.  Elf and Maggie laughed.

Sasha gave them another creepy
sneer and strode off into the cafeteria. 

“I don’t like her,” Scott said.

Joe
watched Sasha go in silence.  He felt bad, since she had given him back his
knife, but somehow she reminded him of his Aunt Caroline.  Lost in dementia,
the woman delighted in hurting those around her with cruel words and
underhanded, manipulative comments.  Except Aunt Caroline had an excuse.  She
was old.

Sasha
was just a bitch.

“They only had one boy, Joe,”
Libby said softly.  “They’re not gonna do good when we get bigger and Tril
makes us fight for the balls.”

So?  Let that little psycho
starve.
  Joe tightened his fist around his knife, reassuring himself of its
presence.  He still felt numb from the sheer amount of fury that had overcome
him when Sasha had tried to take the knife back. 
I almost killed her.
 
He stared down at the red plastic in his hand, wondering if he was going crazy.

“Girls are just as good as guys,
Libby,” Monk said.  “My mom said so.”

“Not in a fight,” Scott said.

“Yes too in a fight!”  Monk
turned to face Scott with all six years of height.  “I bet Libby could beat you
up, Scott, and she’s only eight.”

Scott rolled his eyes.  “Boys get
bigger than girls.  It’s a fact of life.  Isn’t it, Joe?”

Still
staring at his knife, he said, “Congress changed the facts of life.”  Libby
frowned at him, then at his knife.  Seeing her look, Joe stuffed it into his
pocket.

Later, as they ate, Joe said,
“Sasha’s right.  I’m not gonna be the big one forever.  We gotta start planning
for the future.  Pretty soon—maybe just a couple months—we’re gonna have to
fight for our food like everybody else.  Do any of you know how to fight?”

“I fought kids all the time in
school,” Elf said.  “Bullies liked to pick on me, ‘cause of my ears.”

Looking at the elephant
appendages that jutted from the sides of his head, Joe forced back a grin. 
“I’ll bet.  What’d you do to fight ‘em off?”

Elf grinned at him proudly.  “I
stomped on their feet and punched them in the arm.”

“Okay,” Joe said, smiling.  “I
think we’ll have to get a little more advanced than that.”  He glanced at the
others.  “I know a little about street fighting, mostly ‘cause Sam was the
biggest loser ever born and I ended up saving his ass every other day.  When we
get back to our rooms, I’m gonna teach you what I know.  It’s not too
complicated.  Even Mag should be able to do it.”

“You’re gonna teach me to fight?”
Maggie cried gleefully.

Joe grinned despite himself. 
“You sound like I’m giving you a pony.”

“She wants to be able to beat up
that guy who took her food,” Elf said.  “She was drawing pictures of him in
snot on the bench of that first class.”

Joe’s face twisted.  “Snot?  Mag,
that’s disgusting.”

“The aliens wouldn’t let me take
my crayons,” Maggie pouted.

“Well, you’ve got markers, now. 
You can use those.”

“I can?” she cried, in enthusiastic
glee.  “Where can I draw, Joe?”  She bounced in her seat, face full of childish
excitement.

Joe thought about that.  He
didn’t have any paper, and he doubted the Congies would be too impressed if he
let her graffiti over her new white clothes.  But, now the idea was in her
head, he had to find
something
to draw on or that was just what she’d
do.  “You can draw on me,” he said.  “On my arm.  You can give me an anchor
like Popeye.”

Maggie’s eyes widened and she
stood up to go.

Joe laughed.  “We can’t do it
right now, Mag.  We have to finish our classes, first.”    And he had to find
someplace safe to stash his knife.

CHAPTER
8:  Kihgl’s Prophecy

The next morning, Commander Kihgl
stormed into the chow hall during their meal.  He looked furious.  The six battlemasters
in charge stomped their feet in unison and everyone rose at once to stand at
attention behind their bowls.  

Kihgl stood at the front of the
room, scanning the faces quickly. 
“Prime Commander Lagrah just informed me
that a spatial shift has occurred ahead of our pod.  We will arrive in Kophat’s
system tomorrow, two weeks later than the rest of the regiment.  Today’s
classes are on what to expect planetside.  Understand?”

As
taught, the children shouted out,
“Kkee oora!”

“Good.  There’s a good chance we’ll be inspected
by Representatives from Koliinaat once we arrive.  If we are, you treat them
like the gods they are, you understand?  They are so far above you that if you
fart, and they find the odor unpleasant, their Jreet will skin you alive if
they so much as wrinkle their noses.”