Zero Recall (72 page)

#

“The Aezi is a fat,
lying, dishonorable vaghi who falsifies crimes and flagrantly breaks his oaths
in front of billions, knowingly trying a forgery instead of a real Geuji.  He
is a disgrace to Jreet everywhere, a coward who has allowed the luxury of
Koliinaat to corrupt the Aezis’ already weak moral code, and he shall dance on
my
tek
for his misdeeds.”

Daviin suddenly found
himself coiled on a glass platform surrounded by spheritheater seating, his
voice of moments before echoing against the thousands upon thousands of seats,
none of which were placed higher than the others, half of which were filled
with aliens, and all of which were pointed at him.  Once again, he got the
uncanny feeling of being in the Aezi gladiatorial pit, the entertainment of
millions.

Before him, the
shamefully pale, fat Aezi Representative was slowly lifting his head from his
coils, a look of bewilderment on his blunt, cowardly face.

“Honorable
Representatives, as you have just heard, we interrupt this fascinating Tribunal
session to highlight a Representative’s Challenge.  Daviin ga Vora, son of
Redwiin ga Vora, son of Adeiin ga Vora, son of Mabiin ga Vora, son of Rathiin
ga Vora, son of—”

“What in the Jreet hells
is the meaning of this?” the First Citizen demanded, glaring at Daviin, whose
ruby coils now took up the center of the Tribunal platform.

“The Vorans have
issued a challenge to the Aezi,”
the Watcher replied. 
“Daviin ga Vora
represents.”

“That can
wait
,”
Aliphei roared, so violently that his shaggy blue fur rippled.  “We are
currently trying the universe’s most dangerous criminal.”

“Yes, well, as
stimulating as this show is, Daviin’s application was approved.  To delay any
longer would be to give the Aezi an unfair time to prepare.”

Representative Prazeil
arched his neck up in a fury, making Daviin realize just how
big
his
opponent was.  “I was aware of no challenger application!” he roared.

“It was recently
approved.”

“How recently?” Aliphei
snapped.  He had backed away from his podium, putting distance between him and
the two of them.

“Of course.  In what
unit of measurement would you like that information, your Excellency?  I could
give you Diji ewets, Mogati mebus, Stajetti icarions…”

“Days,” Aliphei snapped.

“Perhaps you can
clarify.  Do you mean Poenian days, Faelorian days, Grakkan days—”

“Standard days!”

“I apologize, but it
is an imprecise number.  Would you like that in Bajnan increments of
eighty-one, Itharian increments of thirteen, Human increments of ten—”

“Damn it,” Aliphei
roared.  “Get him off the Tribunal floor!  We’re busy.”

“Unfortunately, your
Excellency, because the challenged Representative taking part in the trial is
weaker and less experienced in combat, and therefore has an excellent chance of
losing, and because the challenger, who is more intelligent, more versed in
warfare, and more maneuverable, upon winning, could affect the outcome of said
trial, the Representative’s Challenge supersedes the trial itself,
priority-wise.”

“I vote to condemn!”
Aliphei snarled.

“Did you call me
weak
?!”
Prazeil screamed at the air itself.  He ripped his podium from the platform and
hurled it into the Regency’s spherical seating.  “I’m not
weak
.”

“Care to place your tek
on that?” Daviin snapped, rearing in challenge.  “I’ll hang it on my wall, Aezi. 
Small and stunted as it is.”

“Condemn him!” Aliphei
snapped.  “We have plenty of proof.”

“You shall
dance
tonight, Voran!” Prazeil shrieked, flinging the First Citizen’s podium aside as
his sperm-colored body uncoiled.  It tumbled over the edge, only to disappear
moments before it crashed into the seating below.  The glass beneath Daviin’s
coils began to vibrate in his weak, pathetic battlecry.  Voran returned it,
screaming the name of his forefathers.

“Remove the accused from
the platform!” the First Citizen commanded.

“I’m sorry, your
Excellency, Prazeil ga Aez is still presiding and it takes two votes to end a
Tribunal session.”

Prazeil raised his energy
level and vanished from the visible spectrum.  An instant later, the box over
which was draped the fake Geuji shattered as something huge crashed into it. 
Daviin pinged and similarly raised his energy.  The world went black around
him.

“Remove me to my room!”
Aliphei shrieked, his shaggy body backing to the very edge of the platform
overlooking the void.  “Now!”

“As you command, your
Excellency.”
  Then it was just Daviin and Prazeil on the platform, and once
again, Daviin found himself facing a larger foe to entertain the masses.

#

“Is that electronics?”
one of the Ooreiki seated along the bar asked with a curious note, peering up
at the huge vidscreen showing the fight in the center of the Regency.  After a
violent tussle, the Jreet had flung each other from the central Tribunal
platform and were wading through the Congressional seats in a rage as startled
Representatives screamed and got out of their way.  The camera, however, kept
switching back to the glittering, sizzling mechanical guts of the blubbering
green Geuji on the screen, who, once the Jreet had crashed into him, had resumed
his confession to unhearing masses at a speed approximately five times normal,
making his words sound like high-pitched gibberish.  No one was taking notes.  The
Congressional lawyers were either dispersed, dead, or, in one unfortunate
Huouyt’s case, splattered in an arc across a good portion of the Regency’s
Y-axis seating after Prazeil had whipped him so violently off the platform he
ripped in half.

The onlookers had
cheered.

Now they were arguing
amongst themselves as to whether or not the green blob on the screen was a
robot.

“Looks like Daviin’s
holding his own,” Joe said, watching the show from his booth with Jer’ait.

“Indeed,” Jer’ait
replied.  Still in Ooreiki pattern, the Huouyt hadn’t said much since the fight
had started.  Two hours and five hundred and eighty-seven destroyed Regency
seats later, he still hadn’t had much to say.

The room cheered as
another podium was ripped from its place and hurled across the Regency.  Very
rarely did the Watcher allow Representatives to come to blows, and it was the
greatest story since Neskfaat, filling every available channels, even one
reserved for single-species use.  The Ooreiki grounders were even then taking
bets on how many podiums the two Jreet would crush in their duel. 

“Think he’s going to
win?” Joe asked, as the Ooreiki hooted and called for more drinks.

“Do you?” Jer’ait asked,
almost bitter.

“You found him once,” Joe
said.  “How about you find him again?  Just the two of us.”

Jer’ait’s sticky
Ooreiki-patterned eyes flickered to him.  “The first time, he wanted to be
found.”

“Screw Forgotten,” Joe
said.  “Find the Jahul.”

For a moment, Jer’ait almost
looked interested.  Then, slowly, “The Watcher is not going to help us.”

“He also can’t help the
Jahul, specifically, can he?” Joe demanded.  “So somewhere on Koliinaat, a
Jahul is pushing around a huge box filled with Geuji.  Am I right?”

Jer’ait glared at him. 
“We aren’t going to be able to wreck his plan, Human. 
Look
at it.”  He
made a disgusted gesture with a boneless arm at the view of the inside of the
Regency, where the fake Geuji continued to confess to an empty platform.  “It
doesn’t matter if Daviin wins.  He’s got enough right there to blackmail the
Tribunal for the next thousand turns.”

“You’re assuming he
escapes.”

“He will,” Jer’ait said. 
He took another sip of his blue-tinged drink.

“You don’t sound too
upset by that.”

“I’m honestly not sure
what to think,” Jer’ait said.  “I swore an oath to Congress…to uphold the law. 
And the law is…gray…where the Geuji is concerned.  All the crimes we could find
to pin on him were pardoned.  He’s not even a citizen.  His species was never
incorporated.”

Joe felt his first real
surge of anger boil up from within, realizing that Jer’ait was perfectly happy
to let the Geuji get away with everything.

“I say we find him,” Joe
said, shoving his cheap whiskey aside.  “Daviin said he called himself Syuri. 
He wrote down his identification numbers and gave them to me.”

Jer’ait gave him an
irritated look.  “Let the Geuji go.  You, me, Daviin, Flea—we were all pawns. 
Your turn came and went.  Now the hand moves on.”

Joe narrowed his eyes at
his friend, “What kind of janja pile is that?”

“The realistic kind,”
Jer’ait muttered.  He went back to watching the fight.  Back at the bar, the
group of Ooreiki cheered again.  Daviin had launched a podium at the Aezi and
hit him square in the head, knocking him backwards in a podium-crushing sprawl. 
Unfortunately, it hadn’t done much damage to the massive, cream-colored Jreet. 
He screamed another shee-
whomph
battlecry and flashed invisible again,
and a moment later, a wave of Representative chairs went spraying out into the
other viewing booths, flung aside by the Jreet’s invisible body.  The Ooreiki
howled and downed more drinks, calling out bets.

“All right,” Joe said,
snagging his coat and standing.  “Be a pawn.  I’m gonna go have a chat with our
friend.” 

“How?” Jer’ait snorted.

“I’m gonna ask nicely,”
Joe said.  He threw his coat over his shoulder and walked from the room.

“The Watcher isn’t stupid!”
Jer’ait called after him.

Ignoring the Huouyt, Joe
went around the corner, into a relatively deserted hallway, and stopped.  He
stood there in several moments of silence before he could properly collect his
thoughts.  He’d never been on Koliinaat before, and the idea of speaking to a
sentient AI disturbed him.  Tentatively, he said, “Watcher, you hear that?”

“Of course, Joe,”
the Watcher replied. 
“I have been listening since the hub.”

Joe took a deep,
shuddering breath, and leaned back against the wall.  “Then you know this Geuji
forced me to kill one of my best friends.  My mentor.  His life or mine.”

The Watcher hesitated. 
“I
was aware.”

“I was enslaved by a Dhasha
in Human bootcamp,” Joe went on.  “The damn thing was going to breed me.  I was
bigger.  More meat.  He loved to eat other Humans in front of me, then make me
climb into his jaws and pick the flesh from his teeth.  Thought I was gonna
die.  So scared I kept pissing myself.  They punished me for that.  Tore their
claws through my skin, left me with so many scars that nanos have trouble
finding what goes where.”

The Watcher said nothing.

“So when I finally got
away from him, I swore to myself it would never happen again.  Swore I’d die
first.  He broke me in a lot of ways.  Then Bagkhal saw me mouthing off and
decided to piece me back together.  Declared ka-par.  I was just a stupid kid,
so I accepted.  I lost.  Bagkhal could have taken me as a slave, but didn’t. 
He could’ve done a lot worse than Knaaren, legally, but he took me under his
wing, instead.  Taught me how to survive, how to lead.”

His listener’s response
was silence.

Joe swallowed.  “He even
taught me how to die.”

The walls around him
resonated with stillness, but he knew the Watcher was listening.

Joe tightened a fist and
composed himself.  Once he was sure his voice wasn’t going to crack, he went
on.  “This guy was the only Dhasha I’ve ever known who didn’t have Takki,” he
said.  “The only decent Dhasha I’ve ever heard of.  And I killed him.  Looked
him in the eyes as he drowned.”  Joe swiped trembling fingers across his eyes. 
“Sputtered and died in a pit I helped dig.  I stood on the edge and watched him
choke.  Water splashed on my feet.  I could have saved him.  Could have told
the Ooreiki to plug the tunnel.  All it would’ve taken was a word.”  He took a
shuddering breath, let it out between his teeth.  “I still have nightmares
about it.”

“I’m sorry,”
the
Watcher said softly.

Tilting his head back
against the corridor, Joe closed his eyes and said, “You know what it’s like to
be sent down a tunnel to die, Watcher?”

“I can guess,”
the
Watcher said.

“Yeah?  You ever felt the
dust in your nostrils?  Heard the thunder of oncoming Dhasha?  Got your arm
pulled off ‘cause you were fighting too hard?  Seen your blood seeping into the
floor as they fought over who got to eat you?”

“No,”
the Watcher
said.

“You know what it’s like
to kill your best friend because he’ll kill you if you don’t?”

The Watcher said nothing.

“I wanna look this Geuji
in the eyes and ask him why,” Joe said, opening his eyes.  “Of all the guys
down there that day, I want to know why he made me do it.  Then I want to kill
him.”

For a long moment, the
corridor was utterly silent around him.  Then, softly,
“You and Jemria have
more in common than you know.”
  A moment later, the hall disappeared, and
Joe felt a strange tingle-numb sensation throughout his body before he was
suddenly standing in the cargo bay of a ship.

In the center of the bay,
a single metal incineration box sat alone and unguarded.  On one side, it had a
row of beeping lights and what looked like a speaker system. 

“Thank you,” Joe
whispered.

The Watcher did not
reply.  Joe walked up to the crate and touched the side.  It was a cube about
as high and wide as he was tall.

“You the Geuji?” Joe
asked softly, looking at the beeping lights.  The RECEIVE light was on.