Forging Zero (86 page)

Around
him, Joe felt humans and Ooreiki alike openly staring.  Prime Commander Weriik
stepped between them and touched the ranking device to Joe’s chest.  As soon as
he lowered Joe’s jacket, the silver circle began to form around his
four-pointed star.

“No one
will ever take that away from you,” Bagkhal said.  “You’ve earned it, Joe. 
More than anyone knows.”  Then he nodded at Prime Commander Weriik to continue
and removed himself to the sidelines to watch the rest of the ceremony.  Joe
could feel his eyes throughout, though he managed to keep from looking.  He
couldn’t wait to talk to him—so many unanswered questions milled through his
mind.

“You
are all now full soldiers in the Congressional Army,” Prime Commander Weriik
said, once he’d finished with the last recruit battlemaster and returned to the
front of the regiment.  “Starting tomorrow, you will have thirty-three days of
liberty and three turns worth of credits to your accounts.  Your battlemasters
will give you further instructions on how to access your funds once the
ceremony is over.  Commanders, you may dismiss your battalions.”

Before
they did, the battalion commanders gave long speeches on how proud they were to
see this day, and then allowed every battlemaster to do the same.  Joe waited
impatiently throughout, wishing they’d hurry so he could talk to Bagkhal.  When
it was finally over and Joe turned to find him, however, the Dhasha was gone.

“He came
to see you graduate,” Gokli said, noticing his search.  “After his testimony, Koliinaat
sent him to patrol Eeloir.  He had to go back—it’s almost open rebellion now that
the Dhasha have the Huouyt Tribunal seat.”

Joe
nodded numbly, though he still scanned the crowds with his eyes, hoping for a
glimpse of the Dhasha’s rainbow reflection.  He should’ve known Bagkhal had
other things to do.

Though
his entire platoon offered to buy him Earth food, Joe did not partake in the
festivities afterwards.  Thinking of Libby and his dead groundmates, he sought
out a small alien restaurant specializing in exotic foods and used some of the
credits he had earned over the past three turns to buy himself six Earth
meals.  The waiter gave him an odd look, but filled his order anyway and soon
Joe was seated at a table with six hot meals steaming in front of him.  As he
sat there, the four-pointed star of Battlemaster felt cold against his chest. 

All
around him, newly-graduated grounders sat in groups, laughing, eating.

“Wish
you guys could be here,” he whispered, locating each of the five empty chairs
with his eyes.  He planned the meal for weeks, trying his best to get the foods
they liked, but it had been difficult to remember.  That was the worst part,
the part that meant they were slipping away. 

I’d
do anything to bring you back,
he thought, tears
welling in his eyes. 
I’m so sorry, guys.

“Sir?”

Joe
glanced up.  The Ooreiki waiter that had been eying him all night was standing
beside him, a note in his hand.

“A
Congie wanted me to give you this.  Said it came from a Dhasha.”  The waiter
dropped the filmy slip of paper in Joe’s hand like it had been doused in fire. 
“This too.”  The waiter tugged a small black box from the folds in his flowing,
brightly-colored robes.  Joe nodded his thanks and set it on the table in front
of him.  He returned his attention to the uneaten plates and sat there in
silence, the food growing cold around him. 
My first groundteam and I failed
them all.

After
the juices had congealed around Maggie’s steak, he unfolded the strip.

In the
neat handwriting of a scribe, it said,
I was right about you, Joe.

Joe
folded the strip of paper and lifted the top of the box.  It was a simple
construction, though more ornate than he was used to seeing.  Still in Congie
black, it had woven bands of black metal winding around the edges and sides,
reminding him of something Irish.  A second note covered what lay inside.

The
politicians said you couldn’t have this until after you graduated.  I see you
still wear Kihgl’s.  It would do you well to have one of your own. 

Swallowing,
Joe peered into the box.  His breath caught.  A
kasja
lay in a velvety
cushion, golden bands knotting the outside.  Gingerly, he lifted it. 

For
Bravery and Valor Despite All Odds.  Joe Dobbs.  Huouyt Rebellion.  Kophat.

Joe’s
chest ached as he tucked the
kasja
back into the box.  He felt tears
threaten, then break free.  It was several minutes before he could fight them
back down.  Taking a slow, steady breath, he closed the lid and stared at it
for several minutes, until a motion beside him reminded him of the waiter’s
presence.

The
Ooreiki was staring at him.  “You’re Zero?  The one that stopped Na’leen?”

“No,”
Joe said, giving the uneaten meals one last look.  His eyes lingered on Libby’s. 
“That’s someone else.” 

He
pushed the box across the table, until it rested between his friends’ uneaten
plates.  “This is for you guys.” 

Then he
paid the baffled Ooreiki and went to find a quiet place to wait out the
celebrations.

A rotation
later, after the other graduates had used up all their liberty and their
credits, Joe boarded the shuttle to take him into space, where he would be
assigned to his new unit.  He was sorted into a battlemaster wing of the new
station, where organizers were calling out roll and coordinating their
departures to all ends of Congressional territory. 

Joe was
one of the few who got assigned to Torat for Planetary Ops training.  It would
be another two years of crawling in the dirt, getting bruised and screamed at
by angry, merciless Jreet, but by the end he would be able to lead a special
unit through the worst Hells in Congress without batting an eye. 

Joe was
looking forward to it. 

And,
since the Huouyt had long memories and were still disgruntled over the death of
their influential Representative, the Army was expecting another war in the
near future.  His extra training would put him at the forefront of the fight,
leading elite teams of grounders in life-or-death hunts in parts of the
universe he’d only dreamed about. 

Unfortunately,
it was going to take him even further from Libby.

Torat
was one of the first planets entered into the union, located in the very center
of Congress, deep in the Old Territory.  Earth, which had just recently been
discovered with the expansion of the Outer Line, was many weeks in the opposite
direction.

That
disappointed Joe.  Of anybody he knew, only Rat would be going with him.  Once
more, he was losing his groundteam.  He wished he could have seen Libby again,
just once before he left.

Joe
strengthened his resolve.  Libby would understand.  She, of all people, would
want him to stay with the Army.

Joe had
his bags over his shoulder and was milling in the congested station waiting for
his flight when he thought he recognized a face in the crowd.

“Maggie?!” 
He pushed his way through the other grounders.  “Mag?  That you?”

The
soldier turned reluctantly.

Joe’s
heart leapt.  “Mag!  God it’s you!  Mag, how did you—  Where
were
you?! 
Mag, I saw you
die!”

“Hey
Joe.”

“How—”

She gave
him a cold look, and it gave him a full-body wash of goosebumps.  “The Huouyt
picked up one of the recruit rifles by mistake.  Shot me with a training
round.”

Joe’s
jaw dropped open, his chest surging with joy.  “How have you been?”

“Fine.”

“You
got battlemaster!” Joe cried, forcefully rubbing away the goosebumps.  “That’s
great, Mag!”

“Yeah.” 
She peered up at him, her once innocent eyes dark.

“Mag,
did you know Libby survived, too?  She’s back on Earth, recruiting more people
for the Army.  They offered to let me go, but I told them I wanted to stay.”

“You
should’ve gone.”

“I
don’t belong there anymore.  I mean, I grew up here.  I wouldn’t know what to
do on Earth.  I mean, can you imagine us doing anything else?  Just look at
us.  They’d probably treat us like we’re aliens.  Jeez, it’s hard to believe
Libby decided to go back.  I thought she would’ve stayed.”

“She
didn’t go back.  She’s dead.”

“No, I
talked to a guy who worked for the PR department.  He said she’s back on
Earth.  They resuscitated her.”

“No they
didn’t.  They resuscitated me, after you left me to die with the Huouyt.”

Joe
blinked.  Her words were so cold, so hard—they felt icicles, aimed at his soul. 
Libby was dead?  He’d sent her letters, video…  After regaining his breath, he
whispered, “Mag, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t know—”

Maggie
brushed the comment aside.  “I hear you commanded the best recruit platoon in
the Force.  They’re sending you to Planetary Ops.  That’s really something,
Joe.”

“Thanks,”
Joe said, feeling wary, now.  Something about the way Maggie was acting wasn’t
right.  “What about you?”

“Going
to Eeloir.  Huouyt are causing trouble there now the Dhasha have their Tribunal
seat.”

“Eeloir. 
That’s where Bagkhal is.”  He felt a pang of jealousy.

Maggie
wasn’t listening.  She was peering up at him, weighing him with her eyes.  “Was
the Trith right, Joe?”

Joe’s
heart hammered convulsively.  “What?”

Laughing,
excited graduates passed them on both sides and Maggie lowered her voice until
only they could hear.  She grew so close that Joe could smell her perfume.  She
carried the scent of roses, but there was something cruel in her face.

“Because
I’ve been thinking,” Maggie said softly.  “Planetary Ops is the
last
place I’d send somebody like you, if I was Congress.”  She smiled, but her eyes
bit like razors.  “Don’t think I won’t tell them, Joe.  Don’t think Bagkhal
won’t come back to kill you, once he finds out you murdered Libby.  Just like
you murdered Scott and tried to murder me.” 

He
stared at her, confused and hurt.  “I didn’t murder them.”

“Yes
you did.”  Maggie’s eyes burned with hatred.  She clearly believed he’d killed
their friends.

Anguished,
Joe whispered, “Mag, I beat the prophecy.  I don’t know what the Trith told
you, but he was wrong.”

She
narrowed her eyes at him.  “A Trith’s never wrong, Joe.  Don’t you know that by
now?”  Then she turned her back to him and worked her way through the crowd of
black-clad grounders, leaving him there alone.

But
I beat the prophecy,
Joe wanted to shout at her
back. 
It’s over.

Yet the
Trith’s nagging warning echoed once more in his skull. 
You will try to
fight it, but invariably, your path will lead to the same end.

Unable
to form a reply, Joe stood sweating in the congested terminal, watching Maggie
go.

Only
when an attendant began announcing the last call for his flight did he go
search for his departure gate.

Two
hours later, he was on a shuttle to Torat, with nothing to do for the next
three weeks but pace his room, play simulated battle games, and check his
messages.  Within the first two hours, Joe got a note from his former
groundteam, which had been given a new ground leader and was being shipped to
Eeloir to fight the Huouyt.  They wanted to know how his new Planetary Ops
training was going—as if Joe had even reached Torat yet.  Joe replied that he
was doing fine and wished them luck.

The
next three messages were much the same—old friends excited about their new assignments,
bored like he was, trying to keep in touch.  Joe responded to them as he had
the first, pacing as he dictated the familiar reassurances.

Joe’s
fifth message made him stop pacing.

It was
Sam.

On a
secure, Congie feed.

“Hi,
uh, Joe.”  Sam cleared his throat and made a nervous laugh.  He was almost sixteen
now.  Older than Joe when Joe took his place.  “I, uh, I bet you’re wondering
how I got in the system.  Well don’t freak out or anything.  I didn’t join up—I
just hacked it, is all.  They wouldn’t let me talk to you otherwise.  Mom’s
actually trying to pretend you died.  When she got that last message from you,
she kinda cracked.  Like, a serious case of denial.  Goes around talking like I
never even had a brother…”  Sam paused, clearing his throat with acute, teenage
embarrassment.  “So I had to find out, you know?  I had to go look, ‘cause
there’s something I really need to tell you.  Turns out, there’s this guy
called Zero who saved some people on this planet you were going to.  Ko-fat or
something.  Real smart, pissed a lot of people off, got time added to his
enlistment for being a dumbass.  Kind of sounded a lot like you.”

Joe
stared at Sam’s image, his heart hammering.  Put side-by-side, nobody would
know they were brothers.  Sam had grown taller than Joe, maybe six-seven, and
he didn’t have the freakish Congie muscles.  Further, Sam’s eyes were blue, not
brown, and his hair was an unkempt near-black where Joe was utterly bald.