Forging Zero (21 page)

Joe
forced himself to breathe despite the urge to gag, taking several minutes to
prove to himself he wasn’t drowning in his dad’s septic tank.  Once he had his
itching lungs under control, he surveyed the sullen faces peering up at him
from the fifteen alien bunks inside the room with him.  The beds were sitting
on low shelves set into the ebony rock, and most of the kids in the place were watching
him expectantly.  Maggie looked like she had been crying.  Monk’s lips were
pressed together unhappily, her nose wrinkled.  Scott looked almost green.  Elf
looked wide-eyed and scared, on the verge of hyperventilating again. 

After
scanning his face a moment, Libby drew her black, scabbed knees up and wrapped
her arms around her long legs, setting her chin on her knees to watch him. 

“Where
are we?” Joe said, glancing around.  The place appeared to be a cave, dug into
a cliff-face.

“The
barracks,” Scott said, motioning to the other groups of kids in the room.  They
were all sitting on large circular beds, half-hidden by the niches of rock that
cradled them.  Chests made from the same icy blue metal as the shock collar sat
at the end of each bed.  Piled atop each chest were six stacks of black Congie
uniforms.  Beside the big round beds, tall, open niches had been dug into the
rock.  Their rifles hung inside, and their packs lay neatly on the floor
beneath.  Someone had even taken the time to fold their blankets.

“The
lizards did that,” Monk said, following his gaze. 

“Those
were
Takki,
Monk,” Scott said.  His voice almost carried the same
disdain that Nebil and the other Ooreiki carried whenever they said the word,
and Joe frowned.

“What
about the canned air?”  Joe was feeling a strong urge to gag again as the
rancid atmosphere dribbled down his bronchial tubes and pooled in his lungs. 
Trying to fight down his desperation, he added, “Any idea how much is in
here?” 

“Not a
lot,” Scott said.  “Those guys ran out in ten minutes.”  He pointed at the bed
beside them, where all of its occupants were sprawled out, gasping piteously.

Joe
took the device from Libby and peered into the tube.  It appeared to be just
that—a tube.  When he depressed the red button in the side, however, he could
feel a rush of cool air against his face.  He quickly released the trigger.

“Battlemaster
Nebil said they want us to adapt to this place,” Libby said.  “That we’re gonna
be living here for three turns.”

Three…turns? 
“Why do these bastards do everything in threes?” Joe muttered.

“Maybe
they think it’s lucky,” Elf said.

“Maybe
that’s how they count,” Scott said.  “We count by ten.  Maybe they count by
three.”

“Maybe
the first Congies only had three fingers,” Elf said.

“Or
six,” Scott said.  “Three on each hand.”

“Ooreiki
have four,” Maggie said.  “I can count to four, Joe.”

“And
that pretty purple lizard had six fingers on each hand,” Monk added.

“That
was a
Takki
, Monk,” Scott said.

“At
least I didn’t pass out,
Scott
.”  Monk raised her chin proudly, “Joe,
everybody but me and Maggie passed out, but Scott passed out first.  The Takki
had to carry him like a baby.”  She stuck her tongue out at Scott, who sighed.

But
Monk went excitedly on.  “Takki sorted us by number and stuffed us into this
tower.  Each battalion has a different level of the tower and there’s nine
levels and there’s these circular stair thingies that go back and forth around
each level like my mom’s front deck that she made Daddy build her and there’s a
bunch of different doors, one for each platoon, and we got Fourth Platoon.  I
was listening to them and they said that only eight of the nine levels got
filled and it’s all your fault and they should gut you for it.  Why’s it your
fault, Joe?”  She paused, blinking at him expectantly.

Joe
reddened as Libby and several of the other kids glanced up at him with curious
looks.  “Uh…”  He swallowed, hard.

When he
didn’t answer immediately, Monk heedlessly went on, “This is all of Fourth
Platoon.  They were carrying kids away from the landing pad for hours, and
they’re still only now waking up.  Battlemaster Nebil was mad.  Said we’re
already behind the rest of the regiment and we don’t need to sleep.  Said we—”

“Wait,”
Joe said, “You’re
sure
they were Takki?  Like Commander Linin’s
pictures?”

The
others nodded at him.

Joe’s
heartbeat quickened.  He had been hoping it had been some sort of
oxygen-deprived hallucination.  If there were Takki nearby, then there might be
Takki
tunnels
nearby.  If there were tunnels nearby, they might want Joe
to go down them.  And that wasn’t going to happen.  Ever.

“You
look scared,” Maggie said.  “Don’t be scared.  They’re a little smaller than
you, Joe.  They don’t even have really big teeth.  And they’re pretty.  Like
Mommy’s necklaces.”

Monk
nodded vigorously.  “They looked like big rubies.”

“Rubies
are red,” Scott said.  “Not purple. 
Amethyst
is purple.”

Monk
glared.  “
I
was the one that saw them,
Scott.
 
You
were
passed out.”

Scott
rolled his eyes.  “If you knew anything, you’d know—”

His
words were interrupted by a deep rumbling sound that sounded like someone
gouging a chalkboard with an ice pick.  Immediately, everyone grouped up closer
to Joe, nervously looking at the open doorway.

“What
is that?!
”
Joe said, standing.  He could feel the vibrations in his
lungs, the reverberations rattling his very bones.  It sounded like an upended
freight train screeching sideways down a highway.

“It’s
been doing that ever since we got here,” Libby said. 

“But
what
is
it?” Joe asked.

“We
don’t know,” Scott admitted.  “But it’s been coming from all over.  And
sometimes it’s quiet, too, like it’s a long ways off.”

“I
wanna go home,” Elf said softly.

“I
don’t.
 I
wanna see what’s making that noise,” Monk said, sticking out
her tongue at Elf.  Immediately, Elf looked like he was going to cry.

“Hey,
guys,” Joe said, “calm down.  Be nice, Monk.  I’m gonna go see what I can
figure out, okay?”  He stood, then caught himself on the wall as an immediate
wave of dizziness hit.  A sharp pain in his palm made him yank his hand back,
however, and when he examined it, his hand was cut from where it had slid
across the glassy black surface.  Seeing himself bleed, Joe felt a surge of
panic once again welling up from within.  Since when did walls
cut
people?

Fighting
his growing alarm, Joe took two deep breaths, trying to ignore the sickening
way the putrid air clung to his lungs.  When he was pretty sure he wasn’t going
to vomit all over himself, Joe opened his eyes and scanned the corridor of beds
to the door.  The exit was only a rounded hole in the wall, and yet it appeared
to be several stories above the ground.  Between the door and himself, the
ridges and waves of the floor rose in deceptively elegant lines—enough to cut
his feet to shreds.

“They
give us boots and gloves for this?” Joe asked, eying the floor apprehensively.

“Yeah,”
Scott said, pointing to the pile of black gear atop the chest.  “But
Battlemaster Nebil told us not to put anything on until he teaches us to do it
right.”

Joe
snorted.  “I can dress myself.”  As the kids watched, he gingerly stepped
across the floor and examined the pile.  He found the largest outfit, pulled it
loose, and unfolded it.  His breath sucked in.

It was
identical to a Marine cammi jacket.  The material, the feel, the bagginess, the
cut…the only thing that was different was that it was jet black.

Joe
slipped his arms into the sleeves and settled it over his shoulders.  It felt
good to have something substantial on his body again.  The flimsy white shorts
and T-shirts from back on the ship had left him feeling exposed. 
Probably
their intention, the jackasses,
Joe thought, disgusted.

As he
had seen his father do a thousand times before, Joe buttoned the jacket, then
pulled up his pants and stuck his feet into the hard black boots.  He laced
them up, pulled the pant legs over the tops, and stood up.  He didn’t have any
way to secure the cuffs of his pants like he’d seen his dad do because he had
no bootbands, but he made do by tucking them into the tops of his boots.  Then
he pulled the heavy, leathery gloves over his hands, marveling at how the
material seemed to mold to fit his fingers, almost like a liquid, yet remained
tough and durable.

Once he
was fully dressed, Joe took a moment to look himself over.  It felt like he was
missing something, but he couldn’t put his finger on what was nagging at him. 
He glanced at the others.  “So what do you think?”

“I
think you’re gonna get clobbered,” Scott said.  Libby nodded her agreement.

Joe
scoffed and strode to the door.  He could feel the eyes of the other children
following him as he walked.

The
Ooreiki hadn’t even bothered to place a guard.

And why
would they?  Joe’s heart began to hammer painfully as he stared out at the
foreign landscape.  They were a good fifty feet from the ground.  Even from
here, he could see the purple sparkles where the black rock of the plaza reflected
the sky.  It was a deep glassy ebony, apparently the same material the building
was made of, but crushed.

Joe’s
stomach cringed when he glanced up.  The buildings were huge onyx cylinders a
thousand times bigger than any skyscraper.  Framing the purple sky, they were
so tall it seemed like they bent inward, creating a barred dome above him.  Joe
looked away before he fell over.

Out
across the crushed black stone plaza, the massive bases of the huge obsidian
buildings had stone stairways carved into the outer rims, snaking around the
buildings and attaching to wide, railed balconies that encircled every story
like the one upon which Joe stood.  Black elevators moved up and down the sides
carrying a flood of purple lizards and colorfully-garbed Ooreiki.  The glow of
electricity lit up the windows of the enormous structures, reminding him of the
office buildings back home.  Massive, arched bridges hung between them,
allowing four lanes of traffic in either direction.

Joe
stared, feasting his eyes upon the skyscraper city.  The Ooreiki, in
particular, fascinated him.  Instead of a constant, uniform black, these wore
every color of the rainbow, their clothes shimmering oranges and reds and
purples that fluttered around them in shawls and scarves and skirts and
ribbons.  Those that weren’t walking along the highways encircling the
buildings were traveling between the skyscrapers over the massive bridges with
little open platforms that hovered over the ground without wings or any other
visible means of keeping themselves afloat.

When
Joe finally pulled himself back inside the barracks, Maggie said, “They made
them from the trees.”

Joe
blinked at her.  “Huh?”

“The
buildings.”  Maggie tapped the wall behind the bed with a tiny knuckle. 
“They’re
trees
.”

Joe
gave a derisive snort.  “They’re not tr—”  Then his mouth fell open as he
stared at the glossy, obsidian-like material.  He glanced outside again,
looking at the enormous circular skyscraper pillars in a new light.  It was so
obvious, once he thought about it.  The buildings were the same size and shape
as the massive white alien ‘trees’ surrounding the city.

From
somewhere outside, the scraping sound came again, a distant rumble that seemed
to come from beyond the city limits.

“I want
to go home,” Elf whimpered, cringing closer to the wall.  “Can I please go
home, Joe?”

“Scaredy-cat,”
Monk taunted.  “Elf’s a scaredy-cat, nie-ner nie-ner
nie
-ner—”

Joe
scowled at Monk.  “We’ll go home, Elf.  We just gotta find a ship to take us.”

Elf’s
hazel eyes flickered up to Joe’s face in wretched, painful hope.  “Really?”

Joe
winced, suddenly understanding
exactly
why none of those parents ever
told their kids where the Congies were taking them.  “Uh, yeah.  We’re just
waiting for our ride.  As soon as we find us a ship, I’ll hotwire it and get us
home, okay?  No sweat.”  He patted Elf’s shiny bald head. 

Despite
how stupid it sounded, Elf seemed to take that at face-value.  “Okay, Joe,” he
said, giving him a shaky grin.  He glanced outside at the huge skyscrapers and
swallowed, taking visible courage from his lie.  “A ship.  Okay.”

Joe
turned and realized Libby was watching him much-too-closely, a small scowl of
disapproval on her young face.  He flushed and immediately dropped his hand
from Elf’s head.  Feeling guilty, he cleared his throat.  “Uh, yeah, Elf? 
There’s really no way to—”

Joe was
interrupted by the heavy boot tread of an Ooreiki behind him.  When he turned, Secondary
Commander Kihgl was standing in the corridor of big circular beds.  The
Ooreiki’s sudah were fluttering, reminding Joe of the motion of the fins on a
cuttlefish.