Forging Zero (57 page)

Joe
took his groundmates and ran.

They found
Libby sitting against a wall, beaten bloody.

She
looked up, both eyes swollen and her lip split and bleeding.  As Maggie and
Scott looked on in quiet fear, Joe knelt in front of her.  “Libby?  Can you
walk?”

Slowly,
she shook her head back and forth.  Joe looked down and saw that both legs were
bent in odd angles.  The offending length of metal lay a few feet away,
spattered with clotted blood.  It almost looked like a crowbar, except blue
instead of black.  The whole area was covered with blood.

A little
ball of fury began to build in Joe’s gut.  “Who did this?”

Libby
made an odd, choking sound.

“Libby?”

Blood
leaked from the corner of her mouth.

Joe swallowed
down a spasm of terror.  “Hold on.  I’m gonna lift you onto my back.”

Libby
pushed him away and closed her eyes, making the same snorting sound in the back
of her throat.  More blood spilled out over her chest.  A snake of dread wormed
through him when Joe realized all the blood soaking the diamond chips was hers.

“I’ll
get her torso.  Maggie, Scott, you get her legs.  We’ve gotta carry her.”

Against
the wall, Libby thrashed her head back and forth.  She made another weird,
animal sound.  Both Maggie and Scott stared at her, wide-eyed, as Joe
hesitated.

“What
did they do to you?” Joe asked, carefully peeling her vest away from her
chest.  The skin underneath was unbroken.  He pushed her forward until she made
a moaning cry, then did the same for her back.  Nothing.  Not even a bruise.

“I
think there’s something wrong with her mouth,” Maggie said quietly.

Against
the wall, Libby made a pathetic, hopelessly wry sound.

“Lib,
open your mouth.”

She
refused.

“Burn
me.  Joe, is that her tongue?”  Scott pointed at a bloody, gravel-encrusted
lump in the dirt.

Joe’s
gut twisted in horror, spawning something entirely new and dangerous.  He
squatted beside the piece of flesh and, as Monk and Maggie shied away, gingerly
picked it up.  It was a tongue.  He could even see taste buds on the pale,
lifeless meat.

“You
guys stay with her,” Joe said, standing.  “I’m getting some help.”

“But
the Rule of Three…” Maggie began.

“
Burn
the Rule of Three.  Stay with her.  Anyone tries to stop me, I’ll make them
wish they were never born.”  At that, Joe ran at a dead sprint back to the
medical center.  He brought the medics back to Libby and could only watch
helplessly as they dosed her with the silvery solution and carried her away.

Joe
returned to the barracks riding a wave of fury.  He did not even remember
gathering up his gear and going to the plaza.  When the battlemaster got in his
face, demanding to know where Libby was, Joe snapped. 

“She’s
in the hospital,” Joe snarled at him.  “They broke her legs and cut out her burning
tongue because
you told us
to pick fights with Second.”

Battlemaster
Nebil stared at Joe for several moments before saying, “Stay here, you Takki-ash
furgs.”  Then, while the rest of Sixth Battalion boarded the attack haauk
,
he hurried off in his waddling alien gait.  Joe closed his eyes and felt the
full weight of his responsibility descend upon him. 

It’s
my fault.  I made her run off.

When
Battlemaster Nebil returned, he was oddly subdued.  “She’s going to be fine. 
They’ll be able to fix her legs.  She’ll earn her tongue back later, after
she’s worked a few years for Congress.”

Earn
back…her
tongue
?  Joe was stunned.  “She’s not gonna be able to
talk?!”

It was
Commander Tril who said, “Recruits don’t need to talk.  They need to follow
orders.  She’ll have a headcom that reads brainwaves so she can report while
she’s in combat.”

“What
about the rest of the time?” Joe demanded, furious. 

Commander
Tril ignored him.  “Nebil, get them loaded on the haauk.  We’re wasting time.”

Joe
felt his fury carry him through their first fight with Second Battalion, but it
wasn’t enough.  Second was better than Sixth—at everything.  He managed to take
down several white-clad defenders, but with Libby gone and them pitted against
Lagrah’s recruits, most of his platoon went down within minutes.

Commander
Tril was particularly unhappy with the day’s events.

“This
was our chance!” he shouted out at their formation once the medics had revived
everyone.  “This was our chance, but what happened?!  Second Battalion starts
attacking
us!
 They burning left their tunnels to attack
us!”
  Tril
paced, his alien features twisted in fury.  “Everyone who died within the first
hour, step forward.”

Two
thirds of the battalion stepped out of formation and made a nervous line in
front of him, Joe amongst them.

Commander
Tril pulled the black device from his vest and held it up.  “I’ve put it at the
second setting.  All of you undress.  Now!”

Battlemaster
Nebil stepped forward.  “Commander, this was only their second attempt…”

“Be
silent or I’ll target you, too.”

The battlemaster’s
pupils narrowed and he stepped into the line with his recruits.

“So be
it,” Tril said, scowling at Nebil.

The
tight coil of rage that had awakened in Joe’s gut over Libby’s beating
continued to grow.  Slowly, he removed his vest and set it far behind him, out
of the way.  Then he followed with his shirt, his boots, and his pants.  After
cold deliberation, he removed his underwear, too.  Then he stood there,
waiting, the chilly breeze tightening his balls.  He did not even look at the secondary
commander, did not listen to the rest of what he said.  All he felt was a deep,
animal rage, a hatred for Congress and everything they had done to him.  Not
even their battlemaster’s gesture eased the anger in his soul. 

When
the pain came, Joe sucked in a sudden breath.  The spore-choked air inside his
lungs was the last coherent sensation he felt.  Then it was all a mash of
agony.  His entire world devolved into searing, mind-numbing pain.  Endless
pain, from which there was no escape careened through his body, missing
nothing, hurting everything.  Joe could think of nothing but how bad it hurt,
how bad he just wanted to die…

When
the agony finally ended, Joe was no longer standing.  He was lying on his side,
a pool of green vomit under his face, his heart skipping and pounding like he’d
had a heart attack.  His limbs would not work.  All he could do was lay there
and stare at the ground under his face, unable to think.

Near
him, Commander Nebil was standing, pulling his Congie blacks back over his pale
brown skin, an unreadable look on his face.

“Get
them up!” he heard Tril shout.

After a
moment, Ooreiki arms were grasping his shoulders, lifting him to his feet.  Joe
fell back to the ground, unable to hold himself upright.  He thought he landed
in a smear of shit, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Now
everyone understands the consequences of failure!” Tril shouted, once their
battlemasters had dragged them all back to their feet.  “Do any of you think I
was unfair?  That I was not within my rights as your commander?  If you do,
step forward again and say so.  I will show you what it means to feel pain.”

Battlemaster
Nebil stepped forward.  Commander Tril glanced at him, but returned his scowl
to his recruits.  They all stayed where they were.  Joe fisted his hands at his
sides, wishing he could use them. 
Nebil shouldn’t be up there alone.

“You
Takki sootbags,” Tril ranted.  “You better burning stay where you are.  Just
like you better
burning
get Second’s flag next time.  You humiliate me
again and I’ll set this asher to nine and watch you all sizzle.”

Joe
felt himself take a step forward.  And another.  Some insane rage was powering
him, now, moving his body like he was on wires.  He stepped past the last row
of recruits and stepped beside Battlemaster Nebil, staring down at Tril in
cold, wordless fury.

Nebil
wrapped a tentacle tightly around his arm.  “Get back, Zero.” he said.  “I’ll
handle this.”

But
Tril had already noticed him.  “Battlemaster, step away from that recruit.”

Nebil
stayed where he was. 

“You
have something to say, recruit?”

Slowly,
forcing his numbed mouth to form the words, Joe said, “When we get our first
flag, you and your little black box aren’t gonna have anything to do with it. 
You’re just a sad dancing monkey who thinks he’s a Prime.  You got Kihgl killed
so you could take his place.  That’s why everyone hates you.”

His
speech was slurred from his last experience with the black device, but a
collective silence swept through the ranks, even the battlemasters holding
their breath.  Beside Joe, Battlemaster Nebil’s sudah were whipping the air,
but he never took his eyes off of Tril.

“Watch
carefully,” Tril said, his voice amicable.  Slowly, lazily, he twisted the dial
on the black device.  Then he held it out for Joe’s inspection.  “See that? 
That’s the ninth setting.  As soon as I push this button, you won’t function for
a week.”

Joe’s
stare never wavered.  “Go ahead and do it, asher.”

Tril’s
slitted eyes glimmered with malice, but before he could push the button,
Battlemaster Nebil slammed a balled tentacle into Joe’s solar plexus.  “You
poison-flinging Jreet!” Nebil screamed.  “How dare you humiliate me in front of
my secondary commander?!”  He smashed a heavy tentacle into Joe’s head and
Joe’s face exploded in a crunch of pain.  Blood trickled from his nose and
spattered onto his chest.

“Come
here!” Nebil shouted, wrenching Joe off of the ground.  He began dragging him
through the putrid gravel surrounding the other naked recruits.

“Battlemaster
Nebil,” Tril said.  “Where are you going?”

“This
one’s been a troublemaker from the start,” Nebil snapped.  “I’m taking him to
Knaaren, trading him for one of the other recruits he took two weeks ago.”

Tril’s
face twisted.  “They won’t be any good as soldiers.”

“They’ll
be better than this mouthy jenfurgling.”

Tril
eyed the battlemaster for a long moment, then nodded.  “With any luck, he’ll
eat him.”

Without
another word, Battlemaster Nebil dragged Joe away from the formation and onto
his haauk
.
  “You stupid sootbag furg,” Nebil said, lifting the haauk off
the ground.  “I can’t burning believe you did that.”

“You
did it too,” Joe said.

“I did
not force a young, insecure secondary commander to prove his power over his
recruits in front of his entire battalion.”

“Don’t
take me to Knaaren,” Joe said.  “Let Tril punish me.  I can handle it.”

“You’re
a soot-eating furg!” Nebil snapped.  “Tril had that thing set to nine!  It
would have hotwired your system until your muscles gave up and you died. 
Tril’s only read the literature.  He’s never seen it in action.  I have.  If he
hit you with a Ninth Degree, it would kill you.”

“So
you’re giving me to the Dhasha, instead?!” Joe cried.  “Why can’t you just tell
him it would kill me?!”

“I’d
already pissed him off,” Nebil replied.  “If I’d said anything other than what
I did, he would have activated the unit and you wouldn’t be here now.”

Joe took
a desperate grip on Nebil’s arm.  “Let him kill me.  I’d rather be dead.”

“Keep
your eyes down and your mouth shut,” Nebil said.  “Do exactly what you’re told
and you might make it out of this alive.”

Joe’s
anger left him suddenly to be replaced with cold, stark fear.  “Please, I don’t
want to go to the Dhasha.”

“You
don’t have a choice.”

Joe
panicked as they approached Knaaren’s tower.  “Then let him kill me!”

“I
can’t do that.”  The battlemaster lowered the haauk to the ground outside
Knaaren’s tower.  “As stupid as you are, Kihgl would still haunt me if you
died.  At least this way, you have a chance of surviving.”  He shoved Joe
toward the Dhasha’s tower.  “Get onto the elevator.  Now.”  Behind Nebil, the
rest of Sixth Battalion was offloading onto the plaza and Joe saw his
groundmates watching him, their faces twisted in concern.

Joe
swallowed hard, determined to remain strong in front of them.

He
stepped onto the elevator.

Battlemaster
Nebil followed him inside and the Takki controller shut the gate.  Immediately,
the machine started speeding them upwards, towards Knaaren’s penthouse at the
top.  Joe glanced over the railing several times as they ascended, wondering if
Congressional medicine was strong enough to bring him back from the dead if he
jumped.

“I’m
sorry,” Joe said, trying not to let his voice shake.

“Shut
up, Zero.”