Zero Recall (21 page)

“I can see why
the seers like you,” Daviin said, grinning.  He nodded as much as the Human’s
grip would allow, pleased.

The Human
released him and backed up, glaring.  “You’re lucky I didn’t bring my gun.”

“One thing I
should warn you,” Daviin said.  “The Sentinels don’t take it kindly when their
wards kill one sworn to protect them.  If you do kill me, at least have the
sense to make it look like an accident.  If you don’t, and the Sentinels catch
you—which they will—you’re going to wish yourself dead long before they get
around to letting you kill yourself.”

“
Letting
me kill myself.”  The Human gave him a dubious look.

“Yes.  More
shame in it that way.  And they’ll do it all without spilling a drop of your
blood.”

“Classy.”

“Very.  It’s
impressive, when you see it in action.”

“So I take it
it’s a common problem.”

“Only amongst
conniving politicians who would kill their own clanmates if it meant their own
personal gain.”  Daviin grinned down at the Human.  “I’m not too worried about
you.”

“You should be,”
the Human growled.

“I can break
every bone in your body with my pinkie.”  He held it up, for the Human’s
clarification.

His commander looked
at the crimson digit that was as thick as his bony Human arm and grunted. 
“Speaking of that, not to alarm you, considering you’re my new Sentinel and
all, but I’m rapidly losing the ability to stand up straight.”  As if to
illustrate, he began to blink rapidly and weave on his feet.  Catching himself
on the wall of the alleyway and peered much too intently at the buildings
across the road.

“Funny, Human,”
Daviin said.

“Yeah, I’d think
so, too, if I wasn’t all of a sudden feeling like someone was trying to shove a
baseball bat through my ear.”  The Human kept blinking.  “I’m thinking maybe
using my head to splinter that chair wasn’t such a great idea back there…”

Daviin glanced
down the road, judging the distance to the barracks.  “Can you walk?”

Joe peered up at
him suspiciously.  “Or what?  Be
carried?
”  He snorted.  “Of course I
can walk.”  The Human straightened, took a step, then his eyes rolled up into
the back of his head and he slumped forward like a wad of wet rags.  Daviin
caught him before he slammed face-first into the packed gravel.

“Such delicate creatures,”
Daviin murmured.  He threw the Human under one arm and made his way back to the
barracks, ignoring the stares he received along the way.

Daviin let
himself into Joe’s room and dropped him on the bed.  He had just administered
the nanos when he heard a voice at the door.

“So our good
Commander resisted your charms again?”

Daviin stiffened
and twisted.

Jer’ait stood in
the doorway, leaning casually against the frame.  His features sharpened when
Daviin turned to face him.  “What happened to your palm, Jreet?”

Daviin immediately
clasped his bloody fist shut.  “I was in a fight.”

“Oh?” the Huouyt
asked, amused.  “And where was the Dhasha?”

Daviin frowned. 
“What?”

Lazily, Jer’ait
left the doorway and walked over to him.  He took Daviin’s palm and, when
Daviin tried to flinch away, Daviin felt a tiny sting as the Huouyt injected a
poison under his skin of his arm. 

Fear warred with
anger as he suddenly found himself helpless to resist as the Huouyt casually
opened his palm and peered down at his cut with his unnatural, bi-colored
eyes. 
He drugged me,
Daviin thought, enraged. 
I, a Sentinel,
allowed a Va’gan to
drug
me!
  The shame was overwhelming. 

“Ah,” Jer’ait
said, as he examined his palm.  “So my eyes did not deceive me.  There are only
two things that can cut through scales like this.  A Dhasha’s claws and a
ceremonial
ovi
knife.” 

Jer’ait dropped
Daviin’s hand and looked up at him, smugness stretched across his downy alien features. 
“We both know what an
ovi
is used for.  And we both know there isn’t a
single Dhasha on Jeelsiht.  Did you really want to be on the team that badly,
Jreet?  Which politician did you swear to, to get the assignment?”

Daviin said
nothing, seething.  It was everything he could do just to squeeze his fingers
back together and hide the wound.  The Huouyt could kill him at will, and both
of them knew it.

“You can speak,
you know,” Jer’ait said, obviously amused.  “The poison does not inhibit
linguistic capabilities.”

Daviin merely
watched him.

Jer’ait sighed. 
“Very well.”  He calmly touched Daviin once more, freeing him.

Daviin slammed
his fist into the side of the Huouyt’s head, knocking him to the floor.  “I
should make you dance on my tek, Huouyt.”

Slowly, the
assassin picked himself up.  He had an open cut from one of Daviin’s claws, but
it mended as Daviin watched him.  “You know, I have killed for much less.”

“As have I,”
Daviin snapped.

Jer’ait cocked
his kreenit-penis head at Daviin.  “Fair enough,” the Huouyt said.  “Where’d
you get the cut?”

Daviin begged
forgiveness from the Ayhi, then lied.  “There’s another Jreet on Jeelsiht. 
Welu.  He and I had an argument.”

The Huouyt
watched him, then slowly his eyes moved to Joe.  “And the Human?”

“Tried to
separate us.”

The Huouyt
cocked his head.  “You escaped, so somehow you must have killed this Welu. 
Shall I check the report?”

“I didn’t kill
him, but go ahead.”

Jer’ait went to
the wall and scanned the files he found there.  Slowly, he turned back, a look
of confusion on his face.  “Huh.  I thought…”

“It was a furgish
idea,” Daviin snapped.  “For you to suggest I would ever take a ward to get on
this
Takki’s
groundteam, it makes it harder and harder for me to find
reasons not to kill you.”

Jer’ait gave him
an amused look and bowed.  “Then I shall not push my luck.”  He cast one last
look at the Human and departed.  When he reached the door, however, he stopped
and turned back.  “Just out of curiosity, he didn’t let you back on the team,
did he?”

“No,” Joe
groaned from his bed.  “Get the asher out of here.”

Jer’ait gave the
Human an amused glance.  “I think I’ll leave that task to someone more capable
than myself, Commander.  Good to see you did not crack like a
piji
shell
to his whining.”

Daviin stiffened, but the
Huouyt turned and left.  Daviin immediately went to the door and locked it
behind him.

“So,” Joe said,
sitting up, “I thought Jreet did not lie, Daviin.”

“I’m sure I will
burn in several layers of hell for it,” Daviin muttered.  “But you gave me an
order not to let others know.  I hope it was worth it for you, Human.”

“It was.  Answer
something for me, Daviin.”

“What?”

“Why did Jer’ait
drop it?  Did you kill a Welu in between shattering my spine and swearing
fealty to me?”

“We had an
argument,” Daviin admitted reluctantly.  “Broke a few houses.”

“And you won?”

“Of course I
won!” Daviin snapped.  “It was a
Welu
!”

“But you didn’t
kill him.”  The Human sounded…intrigued.

“He did not have
Sentinel training,” Daviin gritted.  “It was not a contest.”

“You let him
live.”

“If it can be
called that,” Daviin snorted.  “The poor little furg will go home in disgrace. 
One of his older brothers will probably come for me later, to reap vengeance
from my hide.  Him, I’ll have to kill.”

Joe rubbed the
sides of his head with his soft fingertips.  “Damn Jreet vendettas.  Why’d you
start the fight in the first place if you knew it wasn’t a contest?”

“I didn’t.  The
little Welu furg attacked me on my way to find you.”

Joe peered at
him.  “Is this going to be a common thing?”

“Depends.  There
are five other Jreet on Jeelsiht.  All Welu.  They will attack me on sight, and
I them.  Congress knows this, so they tried to put us in different staging
areas.  The Welu was on leave with his groundteam when he saw me.”

“So why don’t
they just post your locations so you can avoid each other?”

Daviin stared at
the Human, wondering if he was simple.  “That would give us the obligation to
seek each other out.  They hide it from us intentionally.”

“Ghosts.”  Joe
gave an unhappy laugh and said, “How do you guys survive as a species?”

“It is hard,”
Daviin admitted.  “Mortality rates are high, especially amongst youngsters.  We
gain one, maybe two thousand a turn.  That was before Aez.”

“One or two
thousand?
”
the Human cried.  “For your whole
species?
” 

“A Jreet’s life
is hard,” Daviin replied.  “At least up until you get to be my age.”

The Human peered
up at him.  “And just how old are you?”

“Almost a
thousand, now.”

His ward
whistled.  “I thought you were a little bigger than normal.”

“Not at all.  We
have histories of normal Jreet reaching up to sixty-three rods.  The black ones
often get bigger.”

The Human’s eyes
widened.  “Ghosts of the Mothers.  I’m not even a rod.  I’m like two
thirds
of a rod, Daviin.” 

“You’re a
weakling.”

He said it in
all honesty, but the Human narrowed his eyes.  “Sixty-three.  That’s what, nine
of you?”

“Approximately,”
Daviin said, shrugging.  “The breeders grow very large, once they swear off war
and give up their teks.  But nobody really counts them because they’re
forbidden to fight.  Warrior-wise, I am about half the length of the biggest
recorded Jreet with a tek.  The Aezi representative, Prazeil—may he endure
every level of the coldest hells—is very close to thirteen rods.”

“Huge.”

“To a Human.”

“Huh.”  The Human
sighed and stood.  “We might as well come up with a convincing way for you to
crack my stubborn
piji
shell.”

#

“Are you sure, Geuji? 
The last time a Jreet decided to Sentinel to a non-Representative, it was the
Age of the Jahul.”

“The Jreet will do it,”
Forgotten replied.  “It will be the only way he can change the Human’s mind and
therefore rejoin the team.”

“We need a Jreet,”
Rri’jan argued, visibly losing his composure.  “And you are betting everything
he will swear himself to an inconsequential alien grounder.”

“I would not call him
inconsequential.”  Forgotten took a fraction of a nanosecond to monitor Syuri’s
life-signs, to make sure the poor Jahul wasn’t suffocating.

“And if you’re wrong?”
Rri’jan snapped.

“I tire of that question,
Huouyt,” Forgotten said, deciding that the trapped Jahul was highly upset, but
not dying.  “Until some part of my plan fails, please try to refrain from
asking it.”

“Don’t be flippant with
me, Geuji. 
I
decide whether you will ever see your people alive again.”

“I’m aware of your
inclinations to that effect.”

“Yes, but do you really
understand?”  Rri’jan watched him.  “No.  I don’t think you do.”  He reached
for the com unit attached to his cloth-of-silver cape.

“Don’t,” Forgotten said. 
“I know what you’re going to do, Rri’jan.  You have no need to prove it to me.”

“Oh, I think I do.” 
Rri’jan activated the unit.  “Cha’vai, kill one of the Geuji.  The oldest.”

Forgotten felt a flood of
anger at Rri’jan’s words.  It had been so easy.  So
easy
for the Huouyt
to give the order to end the greatest mind in the known universe.  Such petty
ignorance sickened him to the core.  Forcing himself to keep his voice in
check, Forgotten said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You needed to fully
understand who is in charge here, Geuji,” Rri’jan said.  “Now you do.”

“Believe me, Rri’jan, I
understand who is in charge.”

Rri’jan scanned Forgotten
again, then once more activated his com unit.  “Kill another one.  The
youngest.”

“Stop!” Forgotten
snapped.  “You have my attention.”

“I’m not as stupid as you
believe,” Rri’jan said.  “My species is known for its intelligence.”

“Your species is known
for its conscious cruelty.”

Rri’jan tapped the com
unit.  “You should learn to think before you speak, Geuji.  It would serve your
people well in the future.”  Then he cocked his head, enlightenment suddenly
crossing his face.  “Unless you
are
thinking about what you’re saying
and are intentionally provoking me.  Now why would you want to do that,
Forgotten?  I was under the impression we’d agreed upon a mutually beneficial
business arrangement.”

“We have an arrangement,”
Forgotten said.  “It’s you who’s breaking the terms of that contract.”

“The terms of the
contract are that I free your people once gaining the Tribunal,” Rri’jan
replied coolly.  “It says nothing about killing them to discipline you.”

“You are treading
dangerous ground, Rri’jan,” Forgotten said, feeling himself despising the
creature sharing air with him.

“Not really.  I don’t
stand to lose anything if we fail.”  He tapped the com unit again.  “Now tell
me more about this plan of yours.  Why do we sic my esteemed brother on this Human?”

“How else would I get the
top assassin in the universe to join a common groundteam for the purpose of
killing Dhasha?”

Rri’jan pointed the com
unit at Forgotten.  “Excellent point.  But that leaves another question.  Va’gans
do not allow themselves to be put under anesthesia in any way.  Just how do you
plan on making Jer’ait get a grounder’s chip?”

“I won’t.  The Human
will.”

Rri’jan snorted.  “How?” 
He obviously thought it was impossible.

“With his winning
personality.”

Rri’jan tapped the com
unit against his cilia-covered cheek, then said, “I’m going to give you the
benefit of the doubt and assume you meant that literally.”