Zero Recall (50 page)

“We’re
not
working
together,” Lavik spat.  “The Vahlin sent me the Huouyt as a gift.  Said your team
was a special case.”  He glanced over his shoulder at the empty tunnels with
growing irritation.  “Which seems to be true so far, since they’re still not
dead.”

“You’re being used,” the
Huouyt repeated.

“How?”

“Whoever he is, the Vahlin
doesn’t want you to live.”

“How do you figure?”
Lavik snorted.

“If he had accurate
enough information to predict where we would land, why didn’t he take that one
step further?  Why didn’t he tell you the tunnel we would penetrate?  Why
wouldn’t he tell you how to ambush us?  Why leave you to your own devices?”

“The Vahlin cannot be
bothered with small details,” Lavik said.

“Truly?  Then why’d he
warn the first prince there was a Huouyt in our team and then fail to mention
the Jreet entirely?  He mentioned every species that posed a danger to
him…except the most obvious.”

“He didn’t know of the
Jreet,” Lavik said, though the Huouyt’s words were disturbing him.

“Really.”  The Huouyt’s
purple eye was flat.  “After seeing his accuracy today, ten days in advance,
you truly believe that?”

“It’s not about what I
believe, Huouyt,” Lavik said.  “If the Vahlin sees fit that I die to further
his cause, I’ll gladly die for my race.  We’ve endured Congressional
subjugation too long.  The Dhasha will be free.”

“The Vahlin wants you to
die down here,” the Huouyt repeated.

Lavik laughed.  “Then why
send me a Huouyt to do battle with you?”

“Did he give you
grenades?”

Lavik blinked.  “Who
would use grenades underground?”

“Someone who truly wanted
you to survive.”

“What are you talking
about?”

“I find it odd he arms
you against one threat, only to leave another go completely unchecked.”

Lavik was pacing, now,
unnerved.  What the Huouyt said was true.  Things were not making sense.

At that moment, a Takki
rushed into the room, head bowed low.  “Master,” it whispered, drawing close,
“The enemy is retreating.”

Lavik stiffened. 
“Retreating to where?”

“The surface, master.” 
The Takki stared demurely at the ground, offering nothing more.

“They
flee?
” Lavik
demanded.

“Yes, master,” the Takki
replied quietly.

“Curse it!” Lavik
snapped.  “What of my heirs?  Where are they?”

“They cannot follow,
master.  The tunnel they used is too small.”

“Then have them regroup
on the surface!  They will
not
get away, you understand?”

The Takki began to bow,
but its expression broke into fear with a suddenness to make Lavik’s scales
tighten.  He turned—

And the assassin’s
paddle-like tentacle slid under Lavik’s scales.  Lavik felt a sting, then his
body went numb beneath him.  He fell to the ground, unable to control it.

The Takki’s voice raised
in a fear-shriek and it turned to run.

The Huouyt caught it
before it had moved more than two digs.  The poor creature died instantly.

And yet for some reason,
Lavik was still breathing.  He realized, horrified, that the assassin might
mean to extract him to the surface…alive.

Insane.  And yet, with
his heirs diverted to the surface, the assassin had no one to stop him.

The assassin squatted in
Lavik’s field of vision and placed a hand on his snout, oblivious to Lavik’s
deadly jaws only ninths from his body.  While his natural eye was as utterly
unreadable as all other Huouyt, his one purple eye was almost…compassionate.  “I
think you know the choice I’m about to give you.”

Lavik somehow found his
voice.  Apparently, the drug was selective in its paralyzation.  That
frightened him more than anything.  “Are you really Va’ga trained, Huouyt?”

The assassin’s odd purple
eye seemed to pity him.  “The best.”

“Then you have drugs that
can make me utterly suggestible, that will bend me to your will.  Make me
follow you like a whipped Takki.”

The assassin nodded.

“And my choice is life or
death.”

“Yes.”

Lavik laughed.  “Do you
truly believe the Vahlin wants me dead or was that a bluff?”

The Huouyt watched him a
moment before replying.  “I think the Vahlin is not what he seems.”

Lavik sighed.  “You
already know what I am going to choose and you’re trying to ease my mind before
I die.  You believe he wanted me to die all along.”

“I’m sure of it.”

Lavik locked gazes with
the Huouyt.  “When you see the Vahlin, ask him for me.”

The Huouyt cocked his
head at him, giving him an odd look.  “What makes you think I’ll see the Vahlin,
Dhasha?”

“You’ve survived three
deep dens,” Lavik said.  “He obviously wants you alive.”

The assassin blinked at
him.

“Just hurry up and finish
it,” Lavik said tiredly.  “Before a Takki sees me like this.”

The Huouyt nodded and
slid his tentacle into Lavik’s mouth, touching the sensitive flesh of his
tongue. 

Lavik felt the sting,
then embraced oblivion.

#

Joe followed close behind
as the Ooreiki led himself and Flea unerringly downward through the maze of
tunnels.  For the sake of speed, they had found a large, main shaft and
descended at a run.  The extra space had given Joe a reprieve from the gnawing
fear of the smaller tunnels, allowing him more freedom of thought.  His fingers
continued to shake, but as long as he wasn’t seeing blood that wasn’t there, he
could bear it.

“
Deep den’s ten rods up
ahead,
” Galek said.

Joe could sense no change
in the tunnel ahead of him, but he took it as truth.  “
Okay, Flea, go.  Get
out of reach and give that furg an eyeful, got me?  I don’t want him getting
his claws on you.
”

Flea said nothing and
disappeared down the tunnel at the speed of a cruising
haauk
.  No sooner
had Flea disappeared than a Takki emerged from a slave tunnel adjoining theirs
and Joe felt every nerve in his body tingle with alarm.  Instead of running as
a normal Takki, it lunged, grabbed the Ooreiki by the neck, and dragged its
bulk around until Galek blocked his attacker from view. 

Joe raised his gun, too
late.

Galek, looking as stunned
as Joe felt, began to twist under the Takki’s grip.  The Takki’s disposition
didn’t change, but the Takki’s fingers slipped past the Ooreiki’s lips, into
his mouth, and Galek suddenly went limp.

“I’m a Huouyt,” the Takki
snapped.  “Identify yourself or I’ll kill him.”

Joe had his gun up and
aimed at the Huouyt in an instant.  He made a mental communication with the
Ooreiki’s chip.  “
You all right?
”

“
I’m alive,
” the
Ooreiki responded, its pupils wide with terror.  “
I think it poisoned me.  I
can’t move.
”

“You kill him,” Joe said
over his weapon, his voice cold as death, “and you’ll be dead before he hits
the ground.”

The Huouyt watched him,
an utter lack of fear in its Takki face.  “Identify yourself,” the Huouyt
repeated.

Joe realized that they
probably had them surrounded and were going to use their names and appearances
to take out the last three members of their team.  The single Huouyt was just a
diversion.  As soon as they gave their information, both of them would die.

“
Flea, can you hear
me?
”

Flea said nothing.

Anger flashed in the
Huouyt’s eyes.  He gave the Ooreiki a shake, making Galek give a mental
whimper.  “Your names!”

“And if you’re the enemy,
you’ll kill him as soon as I give my name.”

The Huouyt scowled at him
through his borrowed sapphire eyes.  “I’ll kill him if you
don’t
give
your name, Human.”

“Why aren’t you giving
him our names, Joe?” the Ooreiki babbled in terror.

 “Just hold on,” Joe
said.  “Flea and I will figure something out.”
  “You still alive, Flea?”

“Busy,”
Flea said.

“How busy?!”
Joe
cried.

“Really busy.”

“Do you need help,
Joe?”
  His Sentinel’s mental voice was thick with concern.

“No!”
Joe cried. 
“Stay
where you damn well are.”

“Hurry,” the Huouyt said,
still utterly calm, “or he dies.  You have five, four, three—”

“Give us
your
name, then,” Joe said quickly.  “If you are who you’re pretending to be, you’d
know that much.”

The Huouyt gave him a
cool look.  “I will not betray my friends.”

“Very funny,” Joe snapped,
watching the Huouyt down the barrel of his rifle.  “I know what you’re doing. 
You
have until the count of three before I start shooting.”

Galek gave another mental
whimper, but Joe ignored him.

The Takki watched him a
moment, unmoving, then said, “Show me your left hand.”

Joe stiffened.  “What?”

“Your left hand,” the
Huouyt said.  “Hold it up.”

“Listen, asher, I’m not
going to drop my gun so you can—”

“You want your companion
to live?” the Huouyt asked coldly.  At Joe’s hesitation, he said, “Then you are
in no position to barter.  Your hand.  Now.”

Joe glanced at Galek, who
hung limply in the Huouyt’s arms, terrified.  “Ghosts,” he muttered.  Slowly,
he lowered his weapon and lifted his fist for the other’s perusal.

“Open it.”

Suddenly, Joe understood. 
He’d caught Jer’ait eying his hand on the shuttle, watching it tremble.  Shame
tightened his insides, making him feel near to choking.  “I get it.”  He
dropped his fist.  “I’m Joe.  That’s Galek.”

The Huouyt’s eyes never
left his face.  “Open it, Joe.”

“You know damn well it’s
me,” Joe snapped.

The Huouyt continued to
watch him.

“You asher,” Joe
whispered.  Galek was watching him curiously, now, obviously wondering what it
was about.

Angrily, Joe opened his
fist and spread his fingers.  As much as he willed them to steady, they
trembled like leaves, betraying his cowardice for what it was.

With a grunt, the Huouyt
released Galek and said, “My name is Jer’ait Ze’laa vehn Morinth.  I am four
hundred and fifty-two turns old.  I was born in the city of Kha’seol in the eighty-second
turn of the 1292
^nd
Age of the Huouyt, the first child of the royal
family of Ze’laa.  Sixteen turns later I was sterilized and slated for
execution for a birth defect of my left eye.  I am a Class One Va’gan assassin
with eight hundred and thirty-three kills to my name.  My last kill was not
twenty tics ago, a Dhasha prince by the name of Lavik, the second prince of my
career.  I was recently attacked by a Huouyt in Joe’s pattern, whom I can only
assume took my pattern and fried my chip.  I woke in the Dhasha’s deep den to
the sound of silence.”

Joe stared down at his
clenched fist, ignoring the Ooreiki’s confused stare.  “The prince is dead?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

Jer’ait nodded once and
led them down into the deep den.

There, they saw the
prince’s body laid out in the center of the room, alone and unguarded.

“So what the hell
happened to Flea?” Joe growled, lifting his rifle again.

The Dhasha’s body jerked
and all of them, even Jer’ait, flinched.  It jerked again, and Joe rushed forward,
ready to plant a plasma blast down its throat before it woke completely.

He didn’t have to.  Flea
was on the other side of the Dhasha, snipping off toes and gathering the
enormous, razor-sharp talons in a pile.

“You asher,” Joe said.

Flea ignored him.

“Leave those,” Joe
commanded.  “We’re going.”

“You go,” Flea retorted. 
“I’ll meet up with you on the surface.”  Flea continued to snip off toes. 

The Huouyt rounded the
Dhasha’s body and said, “What is—”  His words choked off as soon as he saw the
Baga and what he was doing.  His sapphire Takki eyes went cold.  Without a
word, he stalked up and slammed the back of his fist into the Baga’s torso. 
The smaller alien hit the other side of the room and dazedly tried to get to
his feet.

Jer’ait stalked over to
him and grabbed him by the wings, lifting him until they were face-to-face. 
“The dead,” he whispered, “are not trophies.”  He slammed the Baga into the
wall and Joe heard snapping sounds as the Baga’s delicate frame collapsed.

“Someone else will carry
this scum to the surface.  If it were me, I’d leave him here to rot.”  Jer’ait
cast the Baga aside and stalked from the room.

#

Syuri opened his
eyes.  Immediately, he felt a tingle of relief.  It seemed to come from the air
around him, almost as if—

They gave me
back my
sivvet!

“How are you feeling?”

Syuri stiffened.
 He knew that voice anywhere.  It was refined, yet pleasant; crisp, yet
completely without mechanical clunkiness; artificial, and yet so filled with
emotion it could have come from another Jahul.  It was the voice of a Geuji.

Warily, Syuri sat
up, at first thinking the Peacemakers had locked him into one of the cells with
Forgotten’s people, maybe as a form of high-nutrient food when he starved to
death and his body started to decompose.  Yet, when he lifted his head to
examine the Geuji draped around the room, it was impossible to overlook the
dozens of beeping electronics, devices, wirings, sensors, machines, monitors,
and other high-tech paraphernalia hooked up to the Geuji’s body.

Forgotten
.

“You came for
me!” Syuri cried, so overwhelmed with relief he oozed sexual fluids over his
skin.  “Sweet Hagra, Geuji,” he babbled, “as soon as your plans went sour, I
thought I was dead for sure.”  He knew he was weeping, but he was beyond trying
to salvage his pride.  “Thank you, Forgotten,” he whispered, touching the
rippling black mass gently.  “Thank you so much for coming for me.”