Zero's Return (34 page)

Thankfully,
Alice defused the situation.

“You
broke
them, you stupid-head!”  She kicked Twelve-A hard on the leg and ran to go
retrieve the binoculars.  Flinching and grabbing his shin, Twelve-A turned to
watch her go.  By this time, the petite, cookie-making brunette had joined her
hulking companion and she proceeded to poke and prod at Joe, tugging at his
belt and patting his legs.  Six others came to watch, occasionally conducting
their own examination of this or that, having special interest in his scars. 
Joe felt much like a horse up for auction, but he gritted his teeth and bore
it.  He wasn’t surprised when they wanted to take his pants off.  Forcing a
smile, he bent down to untie his boots and pulled both pantlegs over his feet,
mentally assuring himself that a good piss in the Congressional nuajan machine
was worth a little gawking by a group of imbeciles.

When the big
man—over two digs taller than Joe—started feeling the bulge in his underwear,
however, Joe couldn’t stand it any more.  He brushed them all away with a yell
and pulled his pants back on as they scrambled away from him.  In that moment,
he locked gazes with Twelve-A and he froze, half-dressed.

If you hurt
any of them like you hurt the others, I will kill you.
  The thought rang
inside his head like a twelve-foot gong had gone off between his ears.  Joe
jerked and stumbled with a groan.

I am
protecting these People. 

The booming roar
of the telepath’s mental voice was utterly inescapable, hitting from everywhere
at once, yanking away Joe’s control and violently throwing him to his knees. 
Twelve-A took a step towards him, his face deadly serious.

They are not
your toys to play with, and they are not your grounders to order around.

The intensity
was increasing, and Joe cried out and slid completely to the earth, holding his
head.

Hurt them,
and I will annihilate you. 
The telepath’s booming words slammed through
his barriers, rattling the aluminum walls of his being, wrenching images of his
past from the depths of Joe’s mind, forcing him to gaze upon his own personal
nightmare.

I know what
you are, Joe Dobbs.

Twelve-A’s
mental grater plowed through Joe’s past, dragging up memories of war and
combat, shoving images of death, battle, and pain in front of him,
force-feeding it to him until Joe was shuddering, curling into a terrified
ball, his mind being ripped apart from the inside.  He saw dead Huouyt, dead
Dhasha, dead Humans, dead Jikaln, dead Hebbut, dead Ooreiki…  He revisited
every terror, every horror that he thought he had stuffed safely away. 
Everything he’d tried to forget, every friendly face he’d left behind to rot on
the battlefield, every sentient creature he’d killed, every awful act that had
left him with nightmares…  All of it was suddenly flung in front of him,
forcing him to look a second time, all at once.

I will
annihilate you if you hurt these people.

Joe started to
scream, unable to escape, wracked by fear, guilt, pain, and every other emotion
he had ignored while fighting for his life, struggling to stay alive on
long-forgotten battlefields.  He felt himself dying all over again in the
tunnels of Neskfaat.  He felt himself blowing the brains out of a spy that had
killed his best friend on Eeloir.  He felt himself quiver in fear as a Dhasha
forced him to pick rotten Human flesh from between his sharklike black teeth. 
He felt himself trusting a Huouyt assassin, when he was too scared and too
tired to fear him any longer.  He felt himself put a hand on a terrified Geuji
and tell him of power and responsibility.  He felt himself plunge an ovi into
the greatest Sentinel of his Age.  He felt himself losing his right arm,
watching his liver roll out of the open cavity that was his abdomen…

Joe felt himself
losing his mind, surrounded by the insanity that had been his life.

“What is going
on?” Shael demanded, dropping beside Joe to grab his shoulder.  “Why are you
writhing like a softling?  Did we not cook the meat good enough?  Parasites?” 
‘Crying,’ apparently hadn’t been introduced to her vocabulary, yet.

I will annihilate
you,
the telepath warned again.  Twelve-A’s mental voice was cold, hard. 
We
want no part in your war.
  This time, the mental invasion was enough to
make Joe scream and shudder helplessly in the dirt as the threat hit him from
all sides at once. 

Suddenly,
Twelve-A’s mental fingers violently pulled free of the slurry of Joe’s mind,
leaving him a shaking, tearful mess on the ground.  For several minutes, all
Joe could do was whimper into the dry, grassy hillside.  When he finally
managed to crack an eye to look at his assailant, he saw that Nine-G had
stepped between them and was glaring down at the telepath in obvious
disapproval. 

Then the big man
turned away from the minder and squatted beside Joe, his deep brown eyes filled
with worry.  Twelve-A, apparently satisfied that Joe had gotten his point,
wandered over to the pit of cookies and began to eat.  Other naked adults were
squatting around the cookies as well, stuffing themselves.

“Thanks,” Joe
managed, as the big man helped him to his feet.  Joe rubbed his arm across his
face, smearing mud, spit, and tears across his cheek.  Rather than commiserate
with him, however, the giant simply walked off to eat with the others, taking
Shael with him.

Shaking,
violated, Joe picked up his discarded clothing and fumbled to get it back onto
his body.  As he did so, he caught Alice’s fearful gaze, still fixed on him in
wide-eyed horror.  Shael, for her part, had left him to squat beside the
cookie-pit. 

“Let me guess,”
Joe said gruffly, sniffling as he swiped another trembling arm across his
face.  “You’ve only been eating cookies these last few days.” 

Alice nodded,
wide-eyed.  She glanced at Twelve-A and then back to Joe.  Then, in a hushed
whisper, she asked, “Why were you crying?”

Joe glared at
her through tears that wouldn’t stop coming.  “You know damn well why I was
crying.”

“Twelve-A didn’t
like me at first, either,” Alice said, looking scared.  “But he never made me
cry like that.  I thought men didn’t cry.  Dad didn’t cry.”

Joe narrowed his
eyes and wiped his face again.  Then, glaring at the ground, he fastened his
belt, already planning his next rendezvous with Jim Beam.

“Are you going
to leave now?” Alice asked tentatively, biting her lip.

Joe ignored her
as he stuffed his feet back into his boots, body still trembling from the
adrenaline.  Shael was at the cookie pit, praising the Sisters for their
delectable bounty. 
Good riddance
, Joe thought, bitterly.  Fewer mouths
for him to feed.

“Please don’t
leave,” Alice begged.  “Please.  Twelve-A didn’t mean it.  He’s nice.  Really. 
Please don’t go.  I like having someone to talk to.”

“I’m not hanging
around that freak.”  Joe’s voice was a hoarse rasp from the screaming he’d been
doing moments before.

“
Please
,”
Alice pleaded.

“No,” Joe
growled.  “Not a burning chance.”  He bent to tie his bootlaces.  “Not a
burning chance in Hell.”  The Congressional nuajan machine could get burned.

Alice narrowed
her eyes and was silent for a moment.  Suspiciously so.  When Joe looked up,
she was gazing at Twelve-A, who had turned to Joe.

You will
stay.
  The command made Joe’s entire body twitch like someone had shoved a
lightning bolt down his spine.  He rocked on his feet with its intensity,
almost falling again.

When he
recovered, Joe’s mouth fell open at Alice.  “You little furg.”

“I’m not a
little furg!” Alice cried.  “Twelve-A wants you to stay.”

“I don’t give a
rat’s ass
what
he wants,” Joe snapped, jabbing a finger at the blue-eyed
experiment.  “I’m getting the hell out of here.  These freaks are
dangerous
.”

“Don’t call them
freaks!” Alice shouted.  “Twelve-A’s ears are
cute
.  He looks like my
mommy’s German Shepherd.”

Joe cocked his
head at her, trying to figure out what a Shepherd was.  “That some sort of
dumbass freak, too?” he finally demanded.

“Don’t call them
freaks!” she screamed, stamping a tiny foot.

“Kid, if I want
to call them ash-covered ghosts, then I’ll call them ash-covered ghosts,” Joe
growled, watching Twelve-A warily.  The minder had apparently forgotten all
about him and was now joining Eleven-C in picking chocolate chips off his
cookies, stacking them in little piles on his knee to be eaten all at once. 
“There’s no way in hell I’m hanging out with a group of people who can
do…that.”  He shuddered at the idea of having the telepath dig through his head
again.  “My head is my business.”  He picked up his stuff and turned to leave.

“Only Twelve-A
can do that!” Alice cried, at his back.  “And he’s nice most of the time.  He
just doesn’t like strangers.”

The
ridiculousness of that made Joe stop in his tracks.  He rounded on her,
glaring.  “They aren’t
pets
, Alice!”  He flung an arm at the dumb furgs
squatting around the cookie-pit.  “Those people are
dangerous
.  They’re
the whole
reason
why your family was killed.  The
whole reason
. 
Them
. 
Right there.  You
did
have a family, didn’t you?”

Alice’s eyes
immediately brimmed with tears.  “The dragon ate them.”

“It’s not an
ashing dragon,” Joe snapped.  “It’s a kreenit and there’s more of them out
there.  Walking around with these people is just asking to become lunch.  Do
you really want to get eaten like your parents, Alice?  You wanna see your own
liver get stomped on by an alien after it slices it out of your guts?”

Alice’s eyes
went wide before she burst into tears.  The petite cookie-making brunette came
over and crouched beside the girl, taking her into her arms when Alice turned
to her.  The gray-eyed scowl the woman gave Joe, however, made his anger
dissipate as quickly as if he’d been doused in icewater.  Joe rubbed his arms
against the sudden wash of goosebumps, realizing again how his spidey senses
were tingling just by being around them.

“I’m outta
here,” Joe said.  “Tell the freaks not to follow me.”

“
Stop
c
alling
them freaks!
” Alice screamed at him.

“Stop
crying
like a baby!
” Joe shouted back.  “It’s not gonna make any sooting
difference to the next kreenit that comes after you.”  He turned to go.

Joe was a big
man, but when the giant shoved him, he flew backwards like he’d been hit by a
Jreet.  He landed awkwardly in the tangle of upturned earth and torn tree limbs
and lay there, stunned.

The giant came
to stand over him, frowning down at him in obvious displeasure.  Long minutes
passed, just the two of them staring at each other, Joe on the ground, the big
guy near his head, obviously willing to stomp a big foot into his face.

“Okay,” Joe
wheezed, once he was sure Bigfoot wasn’t going to crush his skull, “Stop making
the kid cry.  Got it.”  He painfully shoved himself over and started to crawl
out of the hole he’d tumbled into.  “No problemo.  I’ll just hit the road and
you’ll never see my sorry ass—oof!”

The giant took
hold of his jacket and lifted Joe completely off of the ground, setting him
back on his feet as easily as if he were righting a lamp.  Then he gave Joe a
gentle shove in the opposite direction.

The others, Joe
realized, were leaving.  The giant wanted Joe to go with them.

“Wait, no, I
don’t want to…”  His words died in his throat when he saw the dark look on
Twelve-A’s face.

You’re coming
with us.

Joe narrowed his
eyes at the telepath.  “I’d rather fuck a Jreet than go with you.”

Twelve-A cocked
his head in warning, his pointy ears making the goofy little prick look like
his mommy got it on with a Nansaba right before she spent nine months loading
up on alcohol and oven cleaner. 

Joe snorted and
turned to go.

Suddenly, Joe
had Jane in his mouth, and, with very little effort on his part, Jane was about
ready to start blowing his mind.  As he swallowed around the cool black metal,
Joe’s feet turned him until he was once again facing the pointy-eared bastard.

For long
seconds, Twelve-A just held him like that, Joe’s own gun in his mouth, his own
hand holding it in place, the telepath meeting Joe’s eyes over the barrel.

Someone like
you could help us,
Twelve-A said.  The clear inference was that Joe’s
future was much more open as a necessary evil than as an uncooperative one.

Very slowly, Joe
nodded.

When the
telepath’s mental fist released him, Joe’s hand was shaking as he pulled the
pistol from his mouth.  He saw the long string of saliva as, trembling, he drew
it away from his face and stuck it back in its holster.  He swallowed his own
spit, felt the cold tang of metal still clinging to his palate.

“Okay,” Joe
whispered.  He let out a shuddering breath.  “Don’t ever burning do that again
or I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

Twelve-A gave
him a long, cold look, and Joe realized the telepath was thinking about
repeating the lesson—with an explosive finale.  Joe returned his gaze, the fear
burned out, replaced with stubborn fury. 
Go ahead,
he taunted. 
Let
me have it, you furg.  I’ve been trying to blow out my own brains for the last
six turns.  Make my ashing day.

I don’t have
to use a gun to make your day,
Twelve-A replied.  But he was frowning at
Joe like he was confused, puzzling out a riddle.

Joe swallowed
and wiped spit from his mouth with the back of his hand.  “Neither do I.  Stay out
of my head or I’ll be happy to prove it.”