Zero Recall (37 page)

“Voran!” the Welu shouted
again.  “Did you flee, coward?!”

Judging he had enough
length to cover the distance, Daviin tensed his muscles, focusing on the
closest loop of the Welu’s body.

A metallic tinkling
caught his attention.  He turned.

A sound concussion—like a
ripping in the boundaries between the hells—suddenly shook the restaurant,
blinding him, raking pain through his insides, tearing at his skull.  Daviin
lost control over his scales, screaming.

Dozens of Ooreiki in
biosuits burst into the room, rifles immediately finding their targets.  Daviin
never heard them.  He and the Welu were both flailing, clawing at their heads like
someone had dropped coals into their skulls.  Daviin felt slick blood wetting
his hands where he clutched his head and knew with a horrible certainty that
they’d deafened him.

A Huouyt stepped into the
room, one that Daviin recognized due to his odd-colored eye.  With swift,
professional precision, Jer’ait went to the Welu, avoided his thrashing length,
and slipped a tentacle under a cream-colored belly scale.  Almost instantly,
the Welu went limp.  Jer’ait stood and went to Daviin.

If you killed the Welu,
I’ll destroy you,
Daviin tried to say.  If anything came out of his mouth,
he did not hear it.  He could not hear anything.

The Huouyt’s mouth moved,
and its eye flashed with amusement before he found a smooth patch of bluish
skin and pressed his tentacle into Daviin’s side.  Daviin was in too much pain
to try and stop him.  He felt a sting, then his world faded to blessed
nothingness.

Daviin woke strapped to
the floor for the second time that day.

“Welcome back, Jreet.”

Daviin craned his neck
against the restraints.  “Jer’ait?”

“You definitely know how
to put a damper in a Va’gan’s plans, don’t you?  I was going to use this
afternoon to deal with a few personal issues, but I had to watch over you,
instead.  Make sure the sniveling little Ueshi didn’t get any ideas.”

“Thanks,” Daviin
muttered.

The Huouyt made an
elegant, dismissive gesture.  “It seemed only fair, since the Ooreiki were
going to use gas and I decided to save their fool lives by using sound
instead.  I felt a little bad afterwards.  It seems restoring a Jreet’s hearing
is a tricky process.  If I’d known how many chambers you had in there, I
wouldn’t have authorized the grenade.  As it was, it burst every one of them. 
Very messy.”

Daviin twisted his head
in its restraint.  The Huouyt sat nearby, watching him.

“Just how good
is
your hearing, Jreet?”  Jer’ait sat in his natural form, three legs hanging
limply under his chair.

“You authorized a sound
grenade?”  Daviin was stunned, angry.

“How else do you separate
two huge, Sentinel-trained Jreet?”

“You don’t.”

“Ah.”  The Huouyt shifted
slightly, his cilia rustling against the black Congie fabric he wore.  “I was
to let you fight to the death.”

“
Yes.
”  Daviin
strained against the bands that held him, wishing he were back in the fight.

“Unfortunately,” the
Huouyt said, “I had my own selfish interests in mind.  I plan on surviving the
next tunnel crawl.”

Daviin stopped straining
and twisted to stare at Jer’ait in shock.  “You think I would have
lost?!
”

“He outweighed you by a thousand
lobes,” Jer’ait replied dryly.  “It had crossed my mind.”

“He was Welu scum!”
Daviin roared.

“You remember the Humans
who came to get the Prime?” Jer’ait said.  “Your Welu fights under the quiet
one’s banner.  Go fight him after we’ve killed the Vahlin.”

“And let the Dhasha get
him first?”

Jer’ait shrugged and
squatted beside Daviin.  He pulled a keycard from his pocket and began freeing
Daviin of his restraints.  “If it truly bothers you, go kill him now.  However,
the damage to his chambers was more extensive…  You would be fighting a
cripple.”

Daviin stiffened.  “The
damage was permanent?”  Fighting a cripple was akin to fighting a Takki.  The
honor would go to the Takki.

“Permanent, yes,” the
Huouyt said.  “He will probably never be able to raise his energy level again.”

“Damn you to the ninety
hells, Huouyt,” Daviin snapped.  “He’s my sworn enemy.  Now I can’t destroy him
honorably.”

“A shame, I know.”  The
Huouyt went on working, appearing not to see the glare Daviin was giving him.  As
he lay there, helpless, a Va’gan assassin calmly freeing him of the bonds that
held him, Daviin wondered if this was what one of the more frustrating hells
was like.  Jer’ait, for his part, continued to unlock Daviin’s restraints in
silence.

Daviin lunged up just as
soon as he felt the last band loosen, ripping the last few free of the floor as
he straightened.  The plate over his tek fell away, leaving him completely free
to slam it through the Huouyt’s meddling body. 

Jer’ait stood and tossed
the key into the empty harness.  “That Ueshi was a disgusting coward.  My drugs
were not enough for him.”

“I’d like to see him
again,” Daviin said.  “And give my thanks.”

The Huouyt peered up at
him, obviously trying to decide whether or not he was being sarcastic. 
Finally, he said, “You’d make him soil himself.”

“True.”  Daviin glanced
around the room and, seeing no one else, said, “You stood by through the whole
operation?”

“It is a Huouyt’s duty to
his groundmate.”

Daviin grunted.  “What of
Joe?”

The Huouyt gave a
disgusted snort.  “I’ve not killed him yet, if that’s what you ask.”

Daviin narrowed his
eyes.  “You’ve got no shame, do you?”

Jer’ait made a
noncommittal gesture.  “Our Prime has not returned since his own kind took
him.”

Gingerly, Daviin touched
the side of his head.  He did not feel blood, though the area was slightly
tender.  Sensitized.  But he could
hear.
  That was the important thing. 
He tried a small ping just to be sure.  The echoes bounced back to him, leaving
a solid picture in his head.

Satisfied he was once
more whole, Daviin lowered his hand and moved to the door.

“Jreet.”

He paused and glanced
back at Jer’ait.  “What?”

“One blast and you were
ruined,” the Huouyt said.  “If that’s the result, why don’t they use sound
grenades against you more often?  Why don’t the Dhasha have them in the
tunnels?”

Daviin snorted.  “To use
them would be for the Dhasha to admit they’re afraid of us.”

Jer’ait did not laugh. 
“I think it’s clear that these Dhasha aren’t obeying the rules, Jreet.”

Daviin tensed.  “It’s
dishonorable.”

“It’s war,” Jer’ait
said.  “That’s why I had the Ueshi coward replace your inner membranes with
synthetic.”

Daviin felt his coils
tighten.  “You
augmented
me?”

“You’ll thank me when the
Vahlin tells them to use sound grenades on you.”

“A Jreet,” Daviin said,
so low it was almost inaudible, “does not rely upon anything but his own
body.”  His tek began to slide from its sheath out of sheer fury.  “Take them
out.”

The Huouyt moved closer
to him.  “Listen to me, Jreet,” he said, completely ignoring the poisoned
appendage.  “There’s something wrong here.  Those who abide by the normal rules
will die.”

“Better to die than live
like an augmented coward!” Daviin roared.  “You’ve disgraced me, Huouyt.  I’ll
never be able to claim the Voran throne.”

Jer’ait laughed at him. 
“How can I disgrace you any more than you’ve already disgraced yourself?  A
slave to a slave…  It doesn’t get much more disgraceful than that.”

Daviin suddenly felt his
world crash down around him.  “Leave,” Daviin whispered.  “Before I break my
oath and kill you now.”

Jer’ait ignored him. 
“You were not augmented, Jreet.  You were immunized against a coward’s
weapon.”  Jer’ait stared up at him, his purple eye calm despite Daviin’s
protruding tek.  “Seeing you helpless today, I realized something.  I could take
a handful of those grenades to Vora or Welu and kill the entire Jreet royal
lineages and there wouldn’t be a single one amongst you who could stop me.  I
also realized that if this Vahlin is monitoring us closely enough to know our
exact attack times and species types, he heard about your tussle with the Welu
and how I put an end to it.  If the idea to use sound grenades had not occurred
to him before, it’s occurred to him now.  I’ve done you a favor.”

“You tainted me.” 
Daviin’s fury was a storm within his chest, an ache of shame and anger.

The Huouyt cocked his
head slightly, an amused look crossing his mutated face.  “You Jreet are more
delicate than you look.  Your honor takes one tiny smudge and you are suddenly
prepared to kill yourselves.”  The Huouyt gave an unconcerned shrug.  “But
whether you like it or not, it is done.  The only one on this planet skilled
enough to remove them without killing you is the Ueshi, and you can be sure
he’s not gonna let you find him.  So, unless you rip them out yourself, the
implants will remain until our business on Neskfaat is complete.”

“This Ueshi,” Daviin
said, slowly.  “I want to talk to him.”

“So would I,” Jer’ait
said.  “Especially after I discovered no one knows where he came from.  It
seems you have a guardian angel, Jreet.  He appears and disappears at will.  He
eluded even me, when I tried to follow him.”

“That spineless coward is
not an angel,” Daviin snapped, irritated.

“How else do you evade a
Va’ga?”

“Catch him for me and we
shall both find out.”

“Unfortunately,” the
Huouyt said, “I have a feeling we won’t see him again until you need him.”

“What are you trying to
say?” Daviin snarled.  “That I’m in league with the Ueshi?”

“Somebody important wants
to see you succeed,” Jer’ait said.  “You think your family—”

“No!” Daviin snapped,
disgusted at the very idea.  “
Never.
  Jreet do not coddle their young.”

“Then you have a secret
admirer,” Jer’ait said.  “If you’re correct and it’s not your family, then
perhaps you should figure out—”

The door opened and the Ueshi
entered, head crest fluttering.  His eyes swept to Daviin and he balked.  “Oh. 
I did not realize he was awake.  Jer’ait, I heard you were looking for me. 
I’ll wait in the hall for you.  Alone, please.”

Daviin moved to grab the
Ueshi, but the Huouyt beat him to it.  Before Daviin had a chance to comprehend
quite what the assassin had done, the Ueshi dropped to the floor, staring at
the ceiling with wide eyes.  Then Jer’ait went to the door and locked it.  When
he came back, he squatted beside the helpless alien, his eyes hard.

“Will there be any more
attacks today?” Jer’ait demanded.

Daviin frowned. 
Attacks…?

“No, sir,” the Ueshi
whispered.

“Good.”  Jer’ait reached
out and touched the Ueshi, who immediately stiffened.  As Daviin watched, the
alien’s eyes widened and he began to shake silently.  Then he stilled.

“You
killed
him?” 
Even though Daviin had wanted to do the very same, he had wanted to at least
enjoy
it a little, first.

“It’s the price we Huouyt
pay for having the skills we do.  Mercy is not an option because capture is
only an inconvenience.  If he was any good at all—which I suspect he was—as
soon as I turned away, he would have adjusted the chemical content of his blood
to compensate, then would have finished what he came here to do.”

“An assassin,” Daviin
said, struggling to piece together what he had seen.  “Not the doctor.”

“Yes.”  Jer’ait sighed
and stood.  “Don’t tell Joe.  I don’t want the Prime to concern himself with my
business any more than he already has.  Be assured I can and will handle it.” 
Jer’ait calmly began going through the dead assassin’s clothing, but his one
violet eye betrayed his worry.  “It makes me wonder what he did to the Ueshi. 
He had to have taken genetic material from him somehow to create the pattern he
was using.”  Jer’ait pulled a small alien finger from beneath the Ueshi’s
uniform, severed at the second delicate joint.  The Huouyt gave Daviin a grim
look.  “Whatever he did, I’d say it’s a fair bet your guardian angel is no
longer going to be sitting on your shoulder.”

“You think he’s dead?”
Daviin demanded.  “You said your kind doesn’t take on a dead pattern!”

Jer’ait glanced up at
Daviin from where he crouched beside the dead Huouyt.  “I said my sect does not
use a pattern they did not kill themselves.  But most Va’gans are not
so...superstitious, as Joe so eloquently put it.  I like to think of it as
respect.  Though he could be alive, it’s highly likely he’s many hours dead.”

“We must find him!”

Jer’ait cocked his head
at him.  “I thought you wanted to destroy the Ueshi.”

Daviin grunted.  “He
fixed my audial chambers.  I should thank him.”

The Huouyt turned back to
the finger and sniffed it. 

Sniffed
it? 
Daviin frowned, repulsed.  “What are you—?”

“Be silent a moment,
Jreet.  I need to concentrate.”

Then, to Daviin’s
disgust, Jer’ait pushed the glistening red appendages from the slit above his
eyes and dropped the finger amidst their grasping, writhing scarlet tentacles. 
Jer’ait’s eyes narrowed and his
zora
abruptly dropped the finger back to
the floor.  He shuddered, and visibly tried to hold his pattern in place as his
zora
pulled back into his head.

“Didn’t know your kind
could do that,” Daviin said, once the zora had retreated and the trembling had
stopped.  “Taste a creature and not become it.”

The Huouyt looked
exhausted as he got out of his crouch.  “It’s hard.  If you had interrupted me,
I believe I would now be unconscious at your feet.”

“So why’d you do it?”