Forging Zero (81 page)

“Possibly,”
one of Na’leen’s assistants said.  “It took six of my men to bring her here
alive.  She actually killed a Jreet who was not trying to be killed.”

“So
take her and let us go,” Tril retorted.  “We’re on your side.  We hate Congress
just as much as you do.”

“Tril
you fire-loving Tak—”  Nebil’s words ended with a grunt as the Jreet slashed
him again, adding more cuts to his pale brown flesh.  He was, by far, the worst
off of any of the Ooreiki hanging on the wall, yet somehow he still had enough
energy to curse his Jreet tormentor.  Joe’s heart gave an anxious twinge.

Representative
Na’leen motioned at the room.  “What loyalties do you have to Congress?  Were
you not stolen from your home like the rest of them?  Don’t you want to see
Congress fall?”

“Fall
where?  Under Huouyt dominion?”  Nebil made a throaty, toadlike laugh.  “I
spent forty-three years as a Prime.  One of the first things I learned was to
never trust a Huouyt.  They have as much conscience as Takki have courage.”

Representative
Na’leen’s electric-blue eyes were flat, but Joe saw the unrepressed ripple of
his snowy-white cilia.  “We want to create a new society,” Na’leen said.

“You
want to
rule
a new society,” Nebil retorted.  “How many of us will you
care about once you reach your goals?  Zero.  It’s wrong.  Whatever you were
told, a Trith never gives the whole prophecy.”

Joe
frowned at Nebil.  It had almost seemed like he had been talking to Joe.

Na’leen’s
downy white cilia began to move in waves across his black skin.  “Those who sit
around waiting for Congress to fall apart will never see it happen.  You make
your own futures, and damn the Trith.  We’ve spent so much time waiting for
their prophecies, running their little errands, praying for them to deliver us
from this snare we’ve woven for ourselves that we’ve never taken the time to
reach out and untie the knot.”

“And
then what?” Nebil said.  “You think the Jreet will follow you forever?  You
think the Dhasha will let you rule?”

“The
Dhasha are simple,” Na’leen said.  “We destroy their planets with the ekhta.” 
He glanced at the Jreet warrior standing beside Nebil.  “As for the Jreet, they
will follow whoever has the courage to lead them to victory.”

“They
will follow you until you win, then they’ll abandon you to resume their old
wars.  The Jreet don’t need you, Na’leen.  They don’t need anything except the
blood of their enemies.”

“Which
I will give to them, in rivers.”

“And
when you become one of their enemies?”

Na’leen’s
silence stretched over the room, casting it in a cold chill.

“That
one will not help us,” one of the Huouyt said.  “Kill him.”  Joe recognized the
Huouyt who had tried to claim him for Na’leen back in the barracks.  His
white-blue eyes were fixed coldly on Nebil.

“No,
Zol’jib.”  Representative Na’leen matched Nebil’s stare.  “That’s what he
wants.  Unfortunately for him, I am not Knaaren.  I do not intend to have a
repeat of Kihgl.  We have nanos enough to keep him alive through whatever
torture we need to inflict.  You may gag him if his noise bothers you.”

Joe’s
heart began to pound as he watched Nebil stiffen.

He’s
protecting me.
  Joe felt a rush of gratitude and shame. 
He’s protecting me and I’m just sitting here.
  His stomach began to ache
with fear.  Hadn’t the Trith warned him against fighting his destiny?  Wasn’t
that why Scott was dead?  Because he didn’t go talk to the rebel in the road
when he was supposed to?  Hadn’t fate simply twisted things around so he was
right where he would have been even if he
had
boarded that ship, except
now most of his platoon was dead?  What choice did he have, if everything he
ever did would bring him the same result?  He
had
to help Na’leen or
more of his friends would die.

“It’s
me.  The Trith said so.”  As soon as he said the words, Joe knew he could never
take them back.  He looked away from Nebil’s searing glance and faced Na’leen. 

“So.” 
Representative Na’leen gave him a weighing look.  “Perhaps he finally
remembered his conversations with Kihgl?”

“A
Trith visited me.  Told me I would shatter Congress.”

Every
alien in the room stiffened, Huouyt and Ooreiki alike.

“And
what,” Representative Na’leen said very carefully, “
else
did the Trith
tell you, boy?  What were your four prophecies?”

Joe
frowned.  “He only gave me one.”

Several
of the Huouyt went utterly still and glanced at each other, and the Ooreiki
prisoners’ sudah fluttered rapidly in their wrinkled brown necks.  No one said
a word.

“But it
doesn’t matter, because Bagkhal and Commander Lagrah are going to rip you ashers
apart,” Joe added. 

“Bagkhal
and Commander Lagrah are dead,” the Huouyt holding Libby said.  “Bagkhal is a
pretty new comet and I killed Lagrah myself, before he ever had a chance to
board the shuttle.  I left the body in an air duct.  They’ll find it a few days
from now, when it begins to stink.  Not that it will make any difference. 
We’ll be controlling Kophat by then.”  As Zol’jib spoke the last, he touched
something to the wormy red appendage in his face and his body began to darken
and shift, the coating of cilia tugging inward, his body growing stockier and
more compact. 

A
moment later, Commander Lagrah stood where the assassin had been, his scarred
chest and shoulders still loosely draped with the cloth-of-silver of
Representative Na’leen’s staff.  Joe was looking upon the same creature who had
urged him to take his friends down this dungeon in the first place.

Joe
felt like he’d been punched.  “You never let those platoons out of the eighth
level, did you?” Joe asked quietly.

“Of
course not,” the assassin in Lagrah’s body said.  “They were still loyal to
Congress.  We’d just have to kill them later.”

Seeing
how perfectly he imitated Lagrah, right down to his drawling Ooreilian accent, something
snapped into focus for Joe.  He felt a coldness pool in his guts, remembering
that Na’leen had wanted his cooperation that first day he’d summoned Joe to his
opulent chambers high above the city of Alishai.  And Joe had refused. 
Swallowing, he whispered, “Were you Yuil, too?”

The
Huouyt smirked and gave a slight bow, his Ooreiki face wrinkling in smug satisfaction. 
“There is more than one tool to declaw a Dhasha,” the assassin said. 
“Especially when dealing with such…” he looked Joe up and down in disdain, “
simple
minds.

“Negate
the pattern,” Na’leen ordered.  “Our goal is not to antagonize him.”

Immediately,
Zol’jib inclined his head and went to a vat of water in one corner of the room
and submerged himself.  When he stood, rivulets running down his metallic
clothing, he was once more in the shape of a Huouyt, his body crawling with
writhing white cilia.

Joe
felt hot fury scraping the inside of his veins, watching the transformation. 
They
didn’t get me the first time, so they made me come.  That’s why Scott’s dead.

“Ignore
him.”  Na’leen waved a dismissive arm at his assassin.  “Don’t you want to
return to Earth, Zero?  Don’t you miss your family?” 

You’re
holding my family. 
Joe looked at Libby.  She was
still faking her exhaustion. 
She thinks I’m trying to distract them so she
can attack.
  He felt a surge of affection.  However, with no weapons nor a
biosuit, against a Jreet and almost a dozen Huouyt, Libby didn’t stand a
chance.  He glanced behind him and located Maggie in the group of children
huddled against the wall.  They were all still wearing their biosuits, though
the Huouyt had removed their gear and piled it against the wall.  The Ooreiki
hung beside them, their Congressional uniforms tattered and their bodies limp
and defeated.  He took a deep breath.  “You let them go and I’ll—”

“Kihgl
didn’t give you his
kasja
because of a Trith prophecy, Joe.”

Joe
jerked to look at Battlemaster Nebil.  He had hung in silence the entire time,
watching him. 
He used my real name,
he realized, in shock.

Battlemaster
Nebil met his gaze and held it.  “He gave it to you because he knew you’d make
one hell of a Congie.”

Joe
felt a rush of gratitude for his battlemaster.  He ached to tell Nebil his
problems, wishing he had done it sooner.  Looking into the old Ooreiki’s eyes,
he knew that Nebil could help him. 
I don’t know what to do.  The Trith
said—

“
Now
you may kill him,” Na’leen said.  “We have what we need.”

An arc of
fire shot through Joe’s being as the Jreet struck his battlemaster with his
sheathed chest-fang.  “No!”  Even as he rushed forward, Nebil’s sudah gave a
brief flutter above the point where the Jreet’s fang entered his chest, then
his body went limp, his tattered corpse hanging from the hooks in the wall like
a drooping pile of loose meat.

A deep,
burning hatred ate at Joe’s lungs, making it hurt to breathe.  In that moment,
he knew what he had to do.  Dad fought for Sam.  Joe would fight for his
friends. 

Instantly,
the Trith’s words replayed in his mind. 
You will try to fight it, but
invariably, your path will lead to the same end. 
Joe took a deep breath
and ignored them. 

Please
let this be the right decision.

“Libby,
you remember Sasha?”

Na’leen
frowned as Libby mumbled something in response.  “What did she say?”

“Remember
how Sasha died?” Joe said.

“How
could I forget?”  Libby’s exhausted façade dropped away and she jammed a fist
into Zol’jib’s throat.  His white-blue eyes looked startled as she whirled, slammed
a foot into the side of his head, and lunged away from him as he fell.  She
spun around Na’leen, jumped under a Huouyt’s grasping arm, and yanked a plasma
rifle from his belt.  She started firing into the Huouyt and they let out
startled cries and tried to shield Representative Na’leen.

Joe’s
guard tightened its paddle-like arm around Joe’s bicep.  Joe jammed his other
elbow into the Huouyt’s face, wheeled, and kicked it over as it reached to
protect its eyes.  Then he turned back to help Libby.  Out of the corner of his
eye, he saw Zol’jib pull something the size of a small pen from his pocket. 
Joe lunged at Zol’jib, taking him down as a Jreet uncloaked behind Libby.

“Jreet
behind you!” Joe shouted.

Libby
swiveled and hit the Jreet in the throat with plasma and it began to thrash,
bowling Huouyt over with its tail.  More Huouyt screamed, their bodies
spattered with the plasma from Libby’s gun.  Na’leen’s assistants were ushering
him from the room, leaving several Huouyt behind to fight.

“Release
me!” Zol’jib snapped, trying to wriggle his wet arms from Joe’s grip.

 “Not a
chance, asher.”  Joe held on tight, keeping the Huouyt’s slick, paddle-like
arms pinned tightly to his sides so that only the tips could move.

The
Huouyt’s electric-blue eyes radiated fury.  “As you wish.”  Joe felt a pinprick
on his side where it touched the Huouyt, like a bee sting.  Then, suddenly, all
of his muscles went limp.  Joe could feel everything, but could control
nothing.  Nothing except his voice. 

An
interrogator’s weapon, he realized.  It left him in the most terrifying state
of paralysis he had ever experienced.  He could only listen helplessly as his
groundmate continued to struggle behind him.  “Watch out, Libby!  They’re using
poison!” he screamed.

Zol’jib
shoved Joe off him and stood.  “Libby!  Behind yo—” Joe’s words ended with a
grunt as the Huouyt’s powerful leg knocked the air out of him.

As Joe
fought for breath, Zol’jib stalked toward Libby.  Before he reached her,
another Huouyt grabbed her from behind and kicked her knees out from under
her.  Without her biosuit to protect her, she collapsed, the Huouyt wrenching
her stolen rifle from her white knuckles with one paddle-like tentacle as he
wrapped the other around her neck.  Though he couldn’t raise his head to see,
Joe could hear her choking as the Huouyt strangled her. 

“Don’t
hurt her,” Joe desperately said to the floor.  “You need me as a friend, not an
enemy.”

Apparently,
they released her, because the choking sounds stopped. 

“My
boot, Joe!”  Libby shouted.

Her
boot?

Joe
glanced to his left.  Libby’s gear lay stacked in a pile on the floor in front
of him.  Her boots stood off to one side.  Only her rifle was missing. 
Suddenly, he remembered Libby disarming Tank’s
fahjli
grenade and
stuffing it beneath her laces.  His eyes caught her left boot.  The dull blue
surface of the grenade peeked out at him.

“My
boot,
Joe!”

Doesn’t
she realize I can’t move? 

“Libby,
I can’t—”  Zol’jib interrupted him as he hauled him to his feet. 

Libby
was giving Joe a look that pierced his soul.  Glowering at him, she drew her
knees to her chest and threw her long arms around her legs.  She had bruises on
her neck and arms where she’d struggled with the Huouyt.  Joe ached to help
her, to hold her, but he couldn’t even wiggle his pinkie finger.