Zero Recall (22 page)

“Thank you.”

“So tell me,” Rri’jan
said.  “Why do you put so much faith in this Human?”

“He’s like me,” Forgotten
said.

Rri’jan laughed.  “Oh? 
An immobile blob of mucous?”

Forgotten ignored the
insult.  “He’s what’s called a vortex.  The Trith cannot see his future, so
they attempt to make it for him.  He’s fought them every step of the way.”

“And how does this remind
you of you?”

“The last Trith that
visited me, I killed and ejected into space.”

That wiped the smirk off
of Rri’jan’s face.  “You’ve killed a Trith?”

“Several of them.  It
took them a while to realize why their fellows were going missing.”

Rri’jan looked…more
subdued…than usual.  “And this Human…he could also kill a Trith?”

“Yes.  And he probably
will, if he’s ever visited again.  I think they learned their lesson from me,
though.  They’ll visit those around him, try to alter his path that way.  A
much safer alternative.  Especially now, when they see our paths have crossed. 
That will cause them no end of anxiety, which pleases me very much.”

Rri’jan’s eyes
glittered.  “I assume it would.  So tell me, Geuji.  You’ve put together this perfect
team, going to elaborate lengths to get just the right members, yet you
continue to act as if the results of your little experiment are uncertain. 
What makes you think the Dhasha will give your brainchild any problems?”

“That’s simple,”
Forgotten said, “The Dhasha will be expecting them.”

CHAPTER
12:  To Chip or Not to Chip

“You forced Daviin from
our groundteam.”  Jer’ait watched the Human closely, wondering if he was a fool
or something worse.  “It was amusing for a while, but you’re actually serious,
aren’t you?”

“He didn’t want to follow
orders,” their Prime told him dismissively.

Jer’ait gave his target a
long look.  “Did you make this decision before or after he broke every bone in
your body, Commander?”

A glimmer of irritation
showed in the Human’s face.  “The Jreet is out.  No discussion.”

Jer’ait glanced at the
other three members of their team.  The Baga sat in a corner, watching the Human
with unwavering curiosity.  To Jer’ait’s surprise, he had not only survived
Joe’s assault, but he seemed to find their Prime’s attack to be nothing out of
the ordinary.  Further, Jer’ait had heard the Baga actually use the word ‘sir’
to the Human, earlier that day.  Behind him, the Ooreiki was staring at the
floor, trying desperately not to be noticed and therefore not to be called on
to take sides.  The Grekkon seemed oblivious to or unconcerned with the
conversation, or both.

“You expect the five of
us to kill a Dhasha prince, wading through possibly hundreds of his underlings
to get to him, without a Jreet?” Jer’ait finally demanded.

The Human’s small brown
eyes found him and he gave him a grin.  “Think of it as putting your skills to
the test, Huouyt.”

“I think of it as
suicide,” Jer’ait retorted.  “They will not allow us to use explosives.  That
leaves hand-to-hand combat.  Only a Jreet can kill a Dhasha in hand-to-hand
combat.”

“Then I suppose we’d all
better pack up and go home, because there’s only six Jreet on this whole
planet.”

Jer’ait stared at him. 
“Only six?”

“That’s right,” the Human
said.  “I checked.  Six Jreet against a hundred and thirty-four Dhasha princes,
plus a carrier-load of followers and young.  If we’re gonna win this thing,
we’re gonna have to come up with some brand-new ideas or we’re all gonna die.”

“You gave up one of the
six Jreet on the entire
planet
because he bruised your pride.”  Jer’ait
knew right then that the message was a Trith’s cruel joke.  As soon as this
moron took them down the tunnels, they would all die.

“He wouldn’t follow
orders,” the Human repeated.

“He’s Sentinel-trained,”
Jer’ait snapped.  “He
shouldn’t
follow the orders of a soft-skulled
Takki imbecile.  Had Phoenix been in her right mind,
Daviin
would have
led this group, not some weak, inebriated clown.”

“I’ll give you the same
choice I gave the Jreet,” the Human said, his tone going as cold as a
Va’gan’s.  “Follow orders or I’ll transfer you.”

Jer’ait laughed.  “You
would go down the tunnels with four.”

“Damn right, I would.  In
a heartbeat.”

From where he sat, Galek
looked up nervously, but he said nothing.

Jer’ait wondered if the
Human had destroyed brain-cells with his sipping of toxins.  “The Jreet and I
are your two best chances of killing something down there,” he said.  “If I
leave, you will have nothing.”

“If you leave, I’ll have
more than I started with,” Commander Zero said.

Jer’ait examined their
leader and saw what the Jreet hadn’t—the Human was deadly serious.  Jer’ait
could almost admire him, the way he could meet the gaze of a Va’ga assassin
without flinching.

“Very well,” he said
softly.  “What do you want me to do?”

“Flea, get over here.” 
‘Flea’ was an earth name that the Human had attached to the Baga the moment it
returned from medical.  The Baga had liked the sound of it, especially after
Jer’ait had explained that a flea was a nuisance insect from Earth.  Jer’ait
wondered if the Baga was quite sane.

The Baga dropped onto
Joe’s shoulder, his entire body about the size of Joe’s head.  If the Human had
any nervousness due to the proximity of the Baga’s spitter, he did not show it.

“Flea, you’ll be working
with Be’shaar.  You two are on recon.  Be’shaar, go to the morgue and start
picking through the bodies.  Grab whatever patterns you think you’ll need.”

Immediately, Jer’ait felt
every one of his
breja
stiffen.  “Huouyt of my sect do not use patterns
off of dead we did not kill ourselves.”

The Human grunted. 
“That’s right.  Forgot some of you are superstitious about that.”

“I will find another
source,” Jer’ait replied, trying not to sound as irritated as he felt.

“Good.  Flea, you’re too
damn colorful.  I want you as black as a Draak turd by the end of the day.  You
and the Huouyt will need to be in constant contact with each other, so you each
get a chip—I’m told you already got yours, so that just leaves Be’shaar.”

Jer’ait stiffened.  “I told
you Va’gans do not undergo operations of any kind.”

“You do now,” the Human
said brusquely.  “Galek, you and I will be the middlemen.  It’ll be our job to
protect Scarab from whatever they throw at us.  He’s our lifeline—the only
thing getting us out of there should something go wrong.  He won’t be doing any
fighting.”

‘Scarab’ was another
nickname, one the Human had given after trying to pronounce the Grekkon’s name
three times and failing.  Though he usually detested monikers, Jer’ait had to
admit that it was easier, and the Grekkon didn’t seem to mind. 

As a matter of fact, the
Grekkon didn’t seem to mind anything.  Though it was fully equipped with an
artificial voicebox and a chip, it hadn’t said more than its name since it had
been introduced. 

Jer’ait’s
breja
rippled across his body in waves as he listened to the Human outline their
plan.  It didn’t sound like a bad plan…except for the fact he expected Jer’ait
to submit to an Ooreiki’s scalpel.  Finally, he could stay silent no more.

“Huouyt of my profession
do not allow themselves to go under another’s knife.  Not for any reason.  I
will do without.”

The Human’s face
darkened.  “Flea, Galek, Scarab, go get some dinner.”

The Ooreiki and the
Grekkon were happy to oblige.  The Baga was more reluctant, giving Jer’ait a
curious look before the Prime’s scowl sent him hurrying out after the other
two.

Joe went to the door and
shut it.  When he turned, he crossed his arms and said, “Why?”

Jer’ait watched the Human
a moment, considering whether to reply.  “The gasses and medicines they use. 
In training, Va’gans are overexposed to every substance that could be used
against us in the field to give us a greater resistance.  Therefore, Va’ga-trained
Huouyt do not allow another to introduce foreign chemicals into their bodies.”

“So it’s a pride thing.”

Jer’ait almost left right
there, but he forced himself to endure the conversation, if only for the sake
of his mission.  “No.  That same resistance makes it extremely hard to put us
into any sort of chemical-induced state without giving us a lethal overdose. 
It’s a very effective safeguard against enemy interrogation.  Ooreiki doctors
may be able to accurately estimate the capacities of their other victims, but I
guarantee you they cannot estimate mine.”

“A medical patient is
hardly a victim.”

“Anyone allowing an
intoxicating substance to enter their bodies is a victim.”

The Human’s face
wrinkled.  “That’s an interesting way to look at it.”

“It is the basis of our
training,” Jer’ait said. 

“You’re no good to us without
a chip, Be’shaar.”

Jer’ait felt his
irritation rising.  “Even in groups, Huouyt work alone.  My PlanOps teams would
usually go out by ourselves and meet afterwards in a certain place to discuss
what we had learned.  If it would make you feel better, we could take a look at
the maps of the tunnels and choose six meeting times and places.  I will be
there—you can count on it.”

The Human gave him a flat
look.  “You’re not going down there without a way to communicate with us.”

“PlanOps signs are
universal amongst all its member species,” Jer’ait said calmly.  “I could leave
them behind for you to find.”

“When you were with other
Huouyt, on your old PlanOps groundteam, what would you do when one of you got
injured?”

Jer’ait said nothing.  He
watched the Human closely, wondering why he continued to push the matter when
most would have long since stood down and agreed to his compromise.

“Because I know for a
fact you did not allow each other to bleed to death.”

“Why do you push it, Human?”

“Why?”  The Human snorted. 
“You just said it yourself.  PlanOps uses universal signs.  Yesterday I chatted
with an Ooreiki Prime who told me those signs haven’t changed in six
millennia.  As soon as I found that out, I almost ashing crapped myself.  All
we’d need would be one Takki down there who’d been trained to read signs and
we’d all be toast.”

Jer’ait studied the Human. 
Sober, he almost seemed intelligent.  “There is very little chance anyone has
ever trained Takki in PlanOps protocol.”

“You want to bet your
life on that, Huouyt?” the Human demanded.  “They told me this Dhasha Vahlin is
over a thousand turns old.  That’s an awful long time to pick up PlanOps
symbols, even if he
wasn’t
in the military, which I’m pretty burning
sure he was.”

“Why’s that?”

The Human gave him a long
look, then stalked over to the table and switched on the satellite map. 
“Mark.  Neskfaat.  Random.  Fifteen ground units.”  The map that appeared
showed several areas cleared of vegetation surrounding the black pits of a
collapsed den entrance.

“See anything?” the Human
asked, watching his face.

Jer’ait didn’t.  He
peered closer, however, not about to allow a Human to best him at something as
basic to his trade as observational skills.

His eyes caught on the
darkened patch in the forest and he frowned.  “Mark.  Remove foliage.”

The screen shifted,
leaving only the black pits on three-dimensional brown terrain.

Every hill, every high
point of land, had a pit. 
Open
pits.  The area around the pits on the
hills, however, were not cleared in the typical Dhasha manner.  They were
completely hidden by trees.  Jer’ait could even see the rainbow smudges of
several Dhasha sitting in the entrances to the tunnels, waiting.  The entrances
themselves wove an octagonal pattern across the surface of the planet, the
sight of which made Jer’ait’s
breja
tremble in waves across his skin.

“That is unnatural,”
Jer’ait whispered.

“That is
smart.
 
The whole planet’s like that.  If the Vahlin isn’t intimately aware of battle
tactics—
our
battle tactics, I’m a purple-pelted Takki.”

“Our grounders are going
to get slaughtered.”  Jer’ait glanced up, studying the Human.  “Did you see
this or were you briefed?”

The Human gave him a flat
look.  “It may be hard to imagine, but I do have the mental capacity to notice
a pattern.  Every visible deep den entrance on Neskfaat is on low ground. 
Every hidden entrance is on high ground.  On every other Dhasha planet I’ve
ever seen, the entrances are wherever the hell the Dhasha happened to sit
down.”

The Human was telling the
truth.  That
he
had caught this…  Jer’ait began to wonder if indeed the
prophecy was true.  “Did you tell headquarters of this?”

“Do I look stupid to
you?  Space Corps is out there now, bombing the hell out of them.”

Jer’ait glanced back at
the maps.  For a long time, he said nothing, merely scanned the honeycomb
pattern of Dhasha tunnels industrious Takki had dug within half a turn.  “We
would never have these problems if we could simply find a way to destroy the
Takki.”

“No,” the Human said. 
“They’d find someone else.  Ooreiki.  Ueshi.  Huouyt.  Humans.  About the only
ones who wouldn’t bow to them would be the Jreet.”

Jer’ait glanced back at
the Human, instinctively ready to object, but gave a tired nod instead and
recited, “Under a Dhasha’s claws, even a boulder crumbles.  We can’t all be
Jreet.”

“Thank God.”  The Human
let out his breath slowly.

Reluctantly, Jer’ait
said, “We have a companion stand watch.”

The Human twitched,
frowning.

Softly, Jer’ait
continued, “Throughout the procedure, he observes and makes sure the doctors
only use the chemicals that we have prescribed for ourselves before we go
under.  Should the doctor make a mistake, should he use the wrong chemicals or
dosage, the companion is sworn to slay all who participated, right down to the
lowliest assistant.”