Zero Recall (16 page)

Daviin was
impressed.  He held still as the two petrified guards walked up and quickly ran
the scanner over his torso, giving the sheath of his tek a wide berth.

“Nothing, sir.”

“You didn’t
check all of him,” Joe said.  “Do it again.”

The Ooreiki swallowed
hard, looking at Daviin’s seven rods of length.  “But that would take—”  he cut
himself off and swallowed again, hahkta wriggling from the sides of his head. 
The battlemaster quickly glanced at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Joe
said pleasantly, cocking his head.  “Were you about to say it would take too
long, Battlemaster?”

“Uh,” the
Ooreiki seemed to whimper, “no sir.”

And liars. 
Congress was filled with liars.  Daviin
hated
liars.

“Then you won’t
mind doing a thorough search,” Joe said.  “Now.”

The two Ooreiki
nervously did, running the instrument up and down Daviin’s length for almost
forty tics before giving the negative.

“I don’t—”
Daviin began.

“Shut up.”  To
the Ooreiki, he said, “Check again.”

“But, sir—”

“Check it!” the Human
snapped.

The Ooreiki
reluctantly did as they were told, this time trembling as they brought the
instrument over Daviin’s chest, hovering over the sheath of his tek as if they
absurdly thought that touching the flesh there would make it spring out and hit
him.

“No tag?” the Human
asked once the Ooreiki was finished.  “Hmm.  Why can’t you find a tag?  Any
ideas?”  Before anyone could respond, he snapped, “Because he doesn’t burning
have one, that’s why.  And you know what that makes him?”

The Ooreiki
shrank under his stare. 

“
Unauthorized!
” 
Joe roared.

Daviin was impressed at
the Human’s vocal range.  Every creature in the hall stopped to stare.

“You!” Joe
snapped, turning back to Daviin.  “Come with me.”  He started walking and
Daviin uncoiled to follow him. 

After three
steps, Joe swiveled suddenly and made Daviin run into him, slamming the sheath
of his tek against his chest.

Unfazed, Joe’s
eyes found the two Ooreiki who were still standing against the wall.  “You two
Takki slavesouls better the hell escort the both of us out of here properly or
when I have my talk with your Prime, I’ll remember names.”

The Ooreiki jumped
forth. 

“And put a
depressor on him.  He could raise his energy and go invisible at any second. 
Who knows who he’s working for?  He’d have full run of the hospital and you
wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it.  Is that what you want?”

“No, sir.”  One
of the Ooreiki fumbled with the mass of gear strapped to his belt, then stepped
in front of Daviin.  “Uh, sir?”  He held out a black device that looked like a
small coin.

“Don’t ask,
do
it!
”

Daviin flinched
away from them, his scales tightening against his skin instinctively.  Never
before had he worn such a device—it was dishonorable, despicable…
humiliating.
 
“This is not necessary, Commander.”

“Really?” Joe
asked, turning to face him.  “Which terrorist network do you work for, Jreet?”

“That’s ridiculous,”
Daviin snorted.

“Sure it is.  Battlemaster,
why aren’t you depressing the Jreet?”

The sudah of the
Ooreiki between them began fluttering like wings in his neck and looked like he
wanted to flee down the hall, but he was fixed in place under the Human’s
merciless stare.

“I’ve taken my
oaths to Congress,” Daviin said.  “I’m not affiliated with a Representative in
any way.  I’m a member of your groundteam.  I don’t need one of those.”

“You’re not a
member of my groundteam.” 

The cool, even
way the Human said it, it almost sounded as if he were serious. 

An excellent
bluffer,
Daviin decided.  “Very well, Human, let’s get this stupidity over
with.”

The Ooreiki
reached forth with a shaking tentacle, a small black device clasped in his
four-fingered hand.  He moved to place it on his back, but Daviin straightened,
offering his stomach before the fool could place it somewhere he could not
reach it.  The Ooreiki did not complain, and meekly affixed it to Daviin’s
chest, where he could easily swat it away if he had to.  Daviin flinched as the
device took effect—the sudden, leaden feeling like a thousand lobes of stone
had been pried under his scales.  He had an instinctive pang of panic that the
effect might be permanent before he fought it down.

He gave Joe an
irritated look.  The depressor was hardly necessary and they both knew it. 
However, he left it where it was, enduring the deprivation of his ability to
leave the visible spectrum with as much grace as he could muster.

But Joe had
crossed his arms, having observed Daviin’s maneuvering.  “Just what kind of
Takki foodyard is your Overseer running here?  You let the Jreet manipulate you
into putting it on his stomach.  He could fling that thing off him in a
second.  You stupid jenfurglings, put it on his back, between his shoulder
blades, where his arms won’t reach.”

Daviin
stiffened.  “I’m not going to remove it.”

“But you
can
remove it, can’t you?” Joe growled.  “Now get on the ground and let them place
it properly.  You’re lucky they don’t shoot you for being a sneaky Cu’it.”

Daviin narrowed
his eyes, but complied.  The momentary relief as the Ooreiki took the depressor
from his stomach was immediately ruined by its even more deeply unnerving
presence in the unreachable area between his shoulders.  Daviin spent the rest
of the trip out of the hospital glaring at the Human’s back, wondering what it
would be like to make the fool dance on his tek
.

Outside, once the Ooreiki
had removed the depressor and left the two of them alone in the waiting area,
Daviin growled, “Was that fun, Human?”

Joe rounded on
him and jammed a finger back at the hospital.  “Fun?!  Those sootwads back
there are in charge of some of Congress’s most sensitive equipment—stuff
they’re gonna give the rest of us full brain-wipes for, just for being
near
it, and they let just anyone waltz around back there like they own the place.”

“A seven-rod
Jreet is hardly just anyone.”

“It’s the
principle,” Joe snapped.  “They lack discipline.  This planet is the staging
area for Neskfaat, for the Mothers’ sakes.  Biggest goddamn war we’ve ever seen
and one smart sonofabitch leading them, and our guys go and leave all of
Congress’s goodies out in the open for anybody who wants to walk in and take
‘em.  The whole lot of them should be shot.  It’s incompetent furgling dumbasses
like that who get grounders sent to their deaths in the first place.”

Daviin stared at
the Human.  “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Joe looked him
up and down.  “I know why you were waiting for me.  My answer is no.”

Daviin blinked. 
“What answer?”

“I’m not
bringing you back.”  Joe turned to go.

Daviin’s arm
shot out, catching his shoulder.  The Human paused and glanced at his shoulder
before giving Daviin a dark look.  Daviin quickly released it. 

“You need me,”
Daviin said, trying to instill some logic into the situation.  “I’m the only
one who stands a chance against a Dhasha in hand-to-hand combat.”

“We’ll make do
without you.” 

Daviin stared at
the Human, stunned.  It almost sounded like…he was serious.  “You’re turning me
down?  Truly?”

“I’m not taking
on someone who’s got no respect for authority.”  The Human turned to go again.

“I respect
authority,” Daviin snapped, his irritation returning.  “If this is about my
attack, I did it after you discharged me.  It should have no bearing on this
conversation.”

“It doesn’t,”
Joe said.  “I’d made my decision long before you busted me up.”

Daviin felt
himself losing his grip on his fury once more.  “If this isn’t about your
pride, Human, what
is
it about?”

“You’re a
volunteer.”  The Human seemed to recognize his anger, and was disdainful of
it.  “Volunteers don’t follow orders unless they feel like it.”

“I trained as a
Sentinel.”  Daviin hated the way it sounded like begging.

“This is
Planetary Ops,” Joe said.  “I don’t give a rat’s ass about the Sentinels.”

Daviin’s body
coiled behind him in frustration.  “If you had any idea how hard the training
was—”

“I don’t care
how hard it was,” the Human snapped.  “What I care about is you following
orders—
my
orders.  Right now, if you got half a chance, you’d leave the
rest of us stranded while you went after the Vahlin.  That’s fine, but you sure
as hell aren’t going to do it on my team.  I’ve already put the order in.  It’s
final.  Cannot be undone.”

Daviin felt a
sinking in his gut, the same kind of sinking he felt as a Sentinel when he
failed in his training.  He stared at the Human, stunned the creature could
make him feel that way.  The Human stared back, his brown eyes unwavering. 

Beda’s bones…
 
Daviin realized he’d made a mistake.

“So, where’s the
rest of my team?” the Human demanded.

“The barracks.” 
The words slipped from Daviin’s lips on a wave of misery.

The Human
grunted.  “What other useless jenfurglings did I get stuck with?”

“A Baga and a
Grekkon.”

“Bones.”  The Human
cursed and glanced at the ceiling.  He closed his eyes and took several long
breaths.  “Goddamn it, Mag.”

“What?”

“She’s playing
with me,” Joe said.  “A Baga’s the most annoying, uncontrollable,
smart
little creep you’ll ever see.  And dangerous as hell.  Maggie’s doing it to
torment me.”

“Who is this
Maggie?” Daviin said.  “Do you want her killed?”

Joe laughed.  “I
wish.”  Then he frowned.  “And no, you will not buy your way back into the
group by killing my enemies.”

Damn.

Joe sighed
again.  “A Baga?  You serious?  Who’s with it?”

“Galek,” Daviin
said.  “I’m not sure about the Huouyt.  He doesn’t tend to stay with the
group.”

“You’ve gotta be
kidding me!”  Joe looked as if Daviin had just told him the Ooreiki was dining
with a Dhasha.  “You sent Galek in there? 
Alone
?  With a
Baga?
”

“I sent no one, Human,”
Daviin said, confused.  “He went on his own.  Wanted to welcome our newcomers. 
What difference does it make?”

Joe made a
disgusted sound.  Without waiting for him, the Human strode quickly from the
hospital, his pace almost more than Daviin could meet.  As if he didn’t even
notice Daviin following him, the Human took a shuttle to the barracks.  Daviin shadowed
him in silence, his mind working.  The Human was not what he expected.  His
first impression of a drunken fool had been wrong.  In another life, he could
have been born a Jreet.

The Human turned
on him suddenly.  “Why are you still following me?”

“I want to be on
your team.”

“No.  Begging
will not change my mind.”  The Human kept walking.

Daviin followed,
his fists clenching in frustration.  “I made a mistake.”

“Yep.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Is that what
you’d say to the Sentinels, Jreet?”

Daviin felt
shame descend upon him in a sickly shroud.  “No.”

“Then don’t say
it to me.”  The Human did not stop walking. 

Daviin lowered
his head and followed.  He knew he should have salvaged his pride and searched
for another group to descend after the Dhasha, but his gut told him this was
the group he wanted.

They entered the
barracks to the sounds of Ooreiki screaming.

Joe broke into a
run, leaving Daviin behind.

When Daviin
caught up, he had to bodily push a crowd of black-clad Congie gawkers out of
the way to even reach the room.

Inside, Joe had
a gun in his hand, the weapon charged and ready, his finger on the trigger.  He
was aiming at something over Daviin’s head.

CHAPTER
9:  Of Bagans and Booze

“Give it back,
you little janja pile.”  Joe aimed the gun at the football-sized alien’s head.

“Why?” the Baga
demanded in startlingly good Congie from its insect-like head.  “The counter
can grow a new one.”

“That isn’t the
point, is it?” Joe demanded.  “Put it down.  Now.”

The Baga buzzed
its wings at him in a sign of disdain.  “We both know you fire that weapon and
you’re in the brig for the next three turns.  This is a non-discharge area,
Human,
and your threats are worthless.”

“I haven’t
threatened you, sootwad,” Joe growled.  “You’ll feel it when I do.”

The elegant
green, humming-bird creature let out a vibrating, contemptuous laugh and spat a
gob of grayish slime at him from its tubelike ass.  Joe dodged it, but just
barely.  Goosebumps sprang up on his arms as he watched the stuff solidify on
the floor.  Had it touched his skin, Joe would have had to cut it off with a
laser, taking a ninth of skin and muscle with it.

“There’s
something you should know,” Joe said, as calmly as he could, watching the alien
glue fuse to the floor. 
Become
the floor.

“Oh?” the Baga
asked, holding up the still-wriggling Ooreiki tentacle and calmly snipping one
of the four writhing fingers from the end with its razor beak.  “And what’s
that, counter?”

Joe refused to
allow his eyes to follow the finger to the ground as the Baga wanted, so he
could glue him again. 
Smart little bastard,
Joe thought, despite
himself. 

“You should know
that I’m sixty-six turns old.”

The Baga snipped another
finger from the Ooreiki’s arm, leaving two intact.  “And why the crack should
that matter to me, Human?”

“Because it
means I’m too old to deal with little pricks like you.”  Joe popped the
canister from his borrowed pistol and, as the Baga watched him in confusion,
threw the gun.