Zero Recall (14 page)

“Are you sure
you want that, Human?”  The Jreet’s small metallic eyes glittered, the pupils
contracting to pinpoints.  “Could be painful.”

Peering up into
the ridged, scaly red face, Joe had to laugh.  It hurt.  He held his side and
groaned.  “Help me up.  I need to get to medical.”

“You’ll have to
wait ‘til we get to Jeelsiht.”

Joe paused in
rubbing his temple.  “Get to…  Wait.  Where am I?”  His eyes scanned the tiny
space around them and his jaw dropped.  “You asher.”

The Jreet moved
closer, his forehead almost touching Joe’s, danger emanating from its golden
eyes.  “Excuse me?”

But Joe was
furious, now.  Beyond fear.  “You ghost-burning farmed Takki
vaghi!
 
Maggie gave me a
choice!
”

“And you chose
to accompany us.”

Joe surged to
his feet and the Jreet lifted his big, chest-sized head with him, staying level
with his own gaze.  They glared at each other, neither so much as blinking. 

“Turn the ship
around.”

“In your dreams,
Human.”

Joe swiveled and yanked
open the door to the cockpit, intending to go speak with the captain.  A red
fist suddenly slammed the door shut, almost wrenching Joe’s arm from its
socket.  An instant later, a ruby wall barred his path.  “You should’ve said
something while we were on the shuttle,” the Jreet said, crocodile-like teeth
bared.  “We’re in deep space now.  No way to turn around.”

Joe was so angry
he sputtered.  “My brother is going to be
killed
.  A Prime Overseer gave
me a choice!  I don’t remember anyone
asking
me!”

“He asked,” an
Ooreiki said solemnly.  “Three times.  You didn’t say much.”

Joe whipped
around to glare at the Ooreiki, who flinched away from him as if he expected a
blow. 

“Who are you?”

“Grounder Galek,
sir,” the Ooreiki whimpered.  “Your groundmate.”

Joe’s eyes
caught the rank and he scowled.  “A boot?  Biggest mission in Congressional
history and they send along a
boot?
  When did you graduate, kid?”

The Ooreiki
squirmed under his gaze, his sudah working furiously in his neck.  “Last turn.”

Joe frowned. 
“And Maggie picked you?”

“Prime Overseer
Phoenix, did, sir.”  The Ooreiki looked like he was about to explode with
discomfort.  His tentacle arms wrapped around each other in anxiety, the four
boneless fingers of each hand writhing together in a knotted mass.

Joe watched the
Ooreiki a moment, then grunted.  “Then you must be worth your stuff.”

The Ooreiki tore
his gaze from the floor, looking startled.

Joe shrugged at
the young Ooreiki’s shock.  “Maggie hates my guts, but she’s the best judge of
a soldier I’ve ever seen.  It’s how she made Prime Overseer without a single
kasja.
 
If she put you here, I’m sure you’re gonna kick Dhasha ass.”

The Ooreiki’s
big, boneless mouth opened and closed in mute surprise.

Behind him, Joe
was suddenly aware of the Jreet watching him.  He turned back and prickled, not
liking the appraising stare the Jreet was giving him.  “You, on the other
hand…  She’d go for
any
Jreet, as long as it had scales.”

The Jreet’s eyes
narrowed.  “I am Sentinel-trained, Human.”

Joe flinched. 
“You’re lying.”

The Jreet
indignantly lifted itself from its bed of coils until he was glowering down at
Joe from the ceiling.  “A Jreet does not lie.”

“No, but they’ll
kill little kids in the service of a Congressional rebel,” Joe said bitterly,
remembering the slaughter on Kophat.

The Jreet
snorted.  “Sentinels swear allegiance to a Representative for life.  It is
understood that oath comes before their oath of citizenship.  Not even Aliphei
begrudged those Jreet their allegiance to Na’leen.”

The Jreet had
researched enough about him to know his history?  Joe found this the biggest
surprise yet.  “They can’t draft Jreet,” Joe said, looking him up and down. 
“So why are you here?”

“Revenge,” the
Jreet said.  “This Dhasha Vahlin stole my vengeance from me.”

“You
volunteered.”  Joe was stunned.  The Jreet didn’t volunteer.  They became
Sentinels or they gathered their clan members and went on raiding parties to
kill other Jreet, and Congress left them alone as long as they didn’t bother
anyone else.

“Yes.  To kill
the Vahlin.”

“Why?”

“He killed my
enemies.”

“And that pissed
you off.”

“Immensely.”

“So you’re gonna
what…tunnel crawl with us as a volunteer until we find him?” Joe demanded.

“Yes.”

“Someone else
might kill the Vahlin, you know.”

“They won’t.”

Joe snorted.  “I
get the shot and I’m taking it, Jreet.  Might actually make all this furgsoot
worthwhile.”

The Jreet
straightened, his muscled body seething anger.  The burgundy tip of the
poisoned fang protruded slightly from the Jreet’s chest.  “The Vahlin is mine. 
You are free to kill the pathetic Takki that grovel at his feet, but the Vahlin
will be
my
kill.”

Joe narrowed his
eyes at the Jreet’s threat.  He walked up to it and stabbed his finger into the
creature’s warm, cream-colored underbelly, his finger ninths from the poisoned tek
.
 
“I didn’t want to be, but since you didn’t give me a choice, I’m in charge,
Jreet.  You are under my command, and I’m not letting any insane Jreet
vendettas get in the way of our job.  If I think Be’shaar or Galek has a better
chance of killing the Vahlin, then they will kill him and you will burning
watch.”

A low, rattling growl—the
beginnings of the enginelike Jreet battlecry—emanated from the Jreet’s chest. 
His poisoned fang slipped further from its sheath, until it was almost touching
Joe’s chest.  Joe could see the muscles and tendons in the limb straining,
putting almost six thousand lobes of pressure into a single strike.  The
slightest release would drive it completely through Joe’s body.

And even a scratch from
the poisonous tip would kill Joe where he stood.

“The Vahlin is mine,” the
Jreet repeated, rising until he had to curl his head against the ceiling.  The
appendage extruded further, two full joints from its sheath.  The tip came to a
rest near Joe’s left eye.

“The Vahlin,” Joe said,
reaching up and shoving the poisoned tek out of his face, “Is whoever’s I say
he is.  I’ve been leading groundteams down tunnels for over fifty turns.  My
Ops teams have claimed three
prince
kills—that ties any other ground
leader out there, past
or
present.  You’re just a tool, Jreet.  A tool
that’s useless to me if you don’t do your job.  You don’t like it, leave.”  His
eyes never left the Jreet’s.

They held each other’s
stare for several moments, the Jreet’s anger visibly increasing with every
heartbeat.  The Jreet made no motion to retract his tek.

Very quietly, Joe said,
“I’ll let the command know of your decision.  Perhaps someone else will be
stupid enough to take you on their team.”

The Jreet snorted in
complete disdain.  “You wouldn’t leave me behind.”

“I’d do it in a
heartbeat.”  Joe leaned closer, holding the Jreet’s gaze.  “In a goddamn
heartbeat.  You won’t follow orders, I don’t want you.  Even if you are a
Jreet.”

“You’re bluffing,” the
Jreet snapped.  “We both damn well know I’m worth a thousand of whatever other
weaklings you can con into serving on this farce.”

That did it.  Joe went to
the wall pad, opened the PlanOps database, accessed his ground-team record, and
changed the configuration.  “There,” he said, stepping back so the Jreet could
see.  “You’re off the team.  Officially.  Now headquarters is looking for a new
assignment for you.  I’m sure they’ll find some two-bit Takki slave for you to
push around.  Hell, you’ll probably have every Prime on the planet get into a
bidding war over your useless hide.  In the meantime,
we’ll
be down plucking
the scales off the Vahlin.  We might sell you a couple of his scales
afterwards, if it will make you feel better.”

The Jreet stared
at the five names on the screen for long moments.  Then, with an enraged cry,
he ripped Joe off his feet and hurled him into the wall with all the force of a
wrecking ball.  Joe hit the corner, then crumpled instantly because too many
bones had been shattered to hold him upright. 

A Huouyt with an
odd-colored eye rushed into the room at the sound of the Jreet’s scream, then
paused to give Joe’s unnaturally twisted body a startled glance.  Joe
thankfully blacked out before his broken bones could get over their shock and
make themselves known.

#

“What next?”
Rri’jan asked, pacing the floor of Forgotten’s chamber.  “I’m not seeing a
clear goal from all of this, Geuji.”

Forgotten
endured the imbecile’s interruption calmly.  “Now we have a war, we use it as a
testing ground.”

“A testing
ground.”  The Huouyt was trying to maintain his façade of control, but he
clearly didn’t understand.

“Yes,” Forgotten
said.  “Now that we’ve tied their hands, they’ll have to send in ground
troops.  They’ll try different combinations of Planetary Ops groundteams hoping
they find a group that works well enough to take out the princes.  With Aez
destroyed, a handful of the strongest Jreet will go to Neskfaat seeking
vengeance.  Those will be the ones we need.  Finding a team that can reach the Vahlin
will only be half the battle—only a Jreet will be able to kill Mekkval in
hand-to-hand combat.”

“So we’re using
this war just to pick a Jreet to fight for us?”  Rri’jan sounded disbelieving.

“There is more
than one method to kill a Dhasha, Rri’jan.  We’re using this war to find the
combination of species that is most successful at finding those methods.  Ayhi,
Jahul, Ooreiki, Huouyt, Baga, Ueshi…”

“Why don’t you
just decide what the best combination is and spare us the war?”

“I could.  My
personal choice would probably be a Human leader, a Huouyt assassin, a Jreet
heir, an Ooreiki with the phenomenon called tunnel-instinct, a Baga scout, and
a Grekkon burrower, though if I were to simply pick them out of hand, they
would not have the experience working together that they will require when we
send them against Mekkval.”

Rri’jan’s face
wrinkled with distaste.  “The best leader would be Human?  You are sure?”

“No.  That is why I will
allow the war to make the selections for me.  There are one hundred and
thirty-four princes.  Planetary Ops will assemble approximately two and a half
million inter-species groundteams, all with different mixtures of killing
talent.  However, I believe the leader to successfully reach the Vahlin will be
Human.  There are several Jreet capable of taking out a large Dhasha, foremost
among them are the Voran and Welu heirs.  I have several Ooreiki candidates in
mind, though any with the tunnel instinct will do.  Same for the Grekkon. 
Burrowing is a straightforward process, and as long as his companions can
protect him, any Grekkon will suffice.  The Baga will be trickier.” 

Rri’jan gave Forgotten an
irritated look.  “What is a Baga?  Are they even citizens?”

“They are.  They’ve
colonized seven planets, though they technically own sixty-five, most of which
were colonized by Huouyt or Ooreiki due to the Baga’s lack of understanding for
numbers beyond six.  They have only rudimentary mathematical skills, so
advanced civilization is beyond them at this point.”

“You would entrust our
plans to a barbarian?”

“Baga are pranksters and
risk-takers, but they are not stupid.  Despite their appearance and lack of
mathematical capacities, they are one of the six most intelligent species in
Congress, and like to use that advantage over others.  In fact, they will need someone
to keep them in line or they are quick to offend species not so well versed in
their mischief.  Unfortunately, their particular talents make Baga more
dangerous than over ninety-two percent of all other Congressional species, so I
would not be surprised if they kill groundmates in over half of the
inter-species experiments.  In particular, I believe the Baga will target the
Ooreiki for some of their crueler jokes, due to their terraforming history.  I
give Baga-Ooreiki pairings a projected failure rate of eighty-nine percent,
over four-fifths of which will end in the Ooreiki’s death.”

“Ooreiki breed like
vermin,” Rri’jan said dismissively.  “They can afford to lose a few.”

“But
we
can’t,”
Forgotten informed him.  “The death of any member of the team will result in
death for all of them.”

“Really?  Why is that?”

“Because I’ve engineered
it that way.  This is a testing ground.  We don’t want failure before we can
use them.”

“Then why put an Ooreiki
and a Baga together, if you already know the result?”

“Because their separate
skills will both be necessary to our team’s final success.  It will be up to
the team’s leader to keep the Baga under control.”

“And the Huouyt?”
Rri’jan demanded.  “I can give you my best assassins.”

“Do not concern
yourself with the Huouyt.”

Rri’jan’s
electric-blue eyes sharpened with displeasure.  “I want this to succeed,
Forgotten.  If the Huouyt must take part in this experiment, I have the
influence to do so.”

“You have your
personal assassins, but you do not have access to the one I want.”

“Who?” Rri’jan
snapped.  “If he is Va’gan, I can hire him.”

“You can’t hire
this one.  No one can.”

“Why not?”

“He works for
the Peacemakers,” Forgotten explained.  “And, unlike the overwhelming majority
of his kind, he cannot be bought.  He works for Congress or not at all.”

Rri’jan gave him
a long look, the look of a creature that did not believe him.  “Anyone can be
bought, Forgotten.”