Zero Recall (6 page)

Jer’ait cocked
his head at him.  “Truly?  I’ve been told no species in Congress has the
ability to sense a Huouyt in pattern.”

“I can.  Like
night and day,” Caus motioned a stubby, three-fingered hand toward the door.  “Huouyt
are…missing…something, my friend.  Come with me to my
haauk
and I’ll
tell you of it.”

Though the
proposition of figuring out the Jahul’s very
irritating
secret for
ousting his species in pattern piqued Jer’ait’s curiosity, he said, “You have
nothing to drink here?”

“I told you,”
Caus said, waving dismissively.  “I have something I must tell you and this
house may be bugged.”

Jer’ait calmly
got up and followed Caus out the door and across the swampy, alien yard.  Even
wealth did nothing to clean a Jahul of their filthy habits.  Jer’ait tried to
ignore the way the globular alien plants squished between his toes as they
walked.  It was supposedly a treat, something only the richest could afford. 
To Jer’ait, it was simply disgusting.

Caus led Jer’ait
onto a ruvmestin-plated
haauk
and Jer’ait silently noted the ten
haauk
of mixed-species bodyguards that surreptitiously took up positions around them. 
No Jreet.  At least Caus’ corruption hadn’t reached the halls of Koliinaat
yet.  Or, if it had, the Representatives were not confident enough to lend the
criminal their Jreet. 

Such was their
own misfortune.  Had Caus been guarded by Jreet and not a mishmash of former
PlanOps survivors, Congress would never have been able to insert an assassin
into the crime lord’s ranks.

“This looks
good,” Caus said.  “You in the mood for Ueshi cuisine?”

Jer’ait twisted
to look down at the restaurant.  “Never was a fan of that poison.”

“You’ll like
this place,” Caus assured him.  “They make delectable ooma.”

Jer’ait
grimaced.  “Won’t that kill you if they prepare it wrong?”

Caus wrinkled
the thin, splotchy green skin around his eyes—the Jahul version of a smile. 
“They won’t.”

They waited as
Caus’ men cleared the restaurant of its startled patrons and then seated
themselves in a hidden corner.  The Ueshi landlord who approached their table
showed no sign at all that he was disturbed by the sudden visit from the most
dangerous crime boss on Bolan.  They ordered, then he calmly walked out of their
booth.

“That one is
good at hiding his fear,” Caus said with appreciation at the Ueshi’s retreating
blue-green head.  “I could use a man like him.”

“For what?”

“A spy.”

“He looks like
he does well enough for himself here,” Jer’ait noted, glancing at the lavish
furnishings of the place.  The restaurant even had what appeared to be a
ruvmestin-plated chandelier—at least a fifty thousand credit item, if not
more.  “Doesn’t strike me as a man who would devote his life to crime.”

“I never said I’d
give him a choice,” Caus said, looking as if he found the idea quaint.

Jer’ait grunted
and sipped the glass of water that appeared through the table’s trap door.  It,
like all Jahul items, was small to compensate for a Jahul’s short fingers.

“So tell me of
this trouble you’re having,” Jer’ait said.

Caus quickly flicked
the switch that closed their booth off from the rest of the restaurant.  Once
they were alone, he said, “It’s bad.”  The old Jahul watched him and Jer’ait
made sure to keep his emotions strictly under check.  It wasn’t very hard. 
Training at Va’ga had left him able to do almost anything with his body or
mind.  Now, he portrayed worry and pity.

“How bad?”

“This latest
thing with the border planets.”  Caus made a disgusted gesture at the
restaurant.  “The foodstuffs.  Congress was unappreciative of my involvement,
to say the least.”

Jer’ait glanced
up at the vent in the ceiling.  Caus followed his gaze. 

“This place is
not bugged,” Caus said.  “I’ve never been here before.  Read about it.”

“Ah,” Jer’ait
said.  He motioned for Caus to continue.  “So you stole some food from the
colonies.  Weren’t they having bad times with the military overdraft?”

Caus snorted. 
“If the supplies were important to them, they would have spent more on guards.”

“So several million
citizens starved to death due to the shortages.”

Caus blinked his
inky black eyes.  “Whose side are you
on
, Dagi?”  He sighed.  “We both
know they all would have lived if it weren’t for the military conscripting too
many of our citizens and therefore consuming more than their share.”

Jer’ait bowed
his head in concession.  “And now Congress wants you dead.”

Caus snorted.  “They’ve
tried.  Ever since I orchestrated that freighter of Nansaba colonists to go to
the Dhasha.”

Jer’ait schooled
his features to show surprise.  “You sold colonists to the Dhasha?  Aren’t the
Nansaba rare?  It takes them hundreds of turns to spawn a child, yes?”

Caus waved a
disgusted hand.  “They’re worth almost a lobe of ruvmestin apiece and the
freighter was completely unarmed.  Eight hundred thousand of them.  When I see
a karwiq bulb, I pluck it.”

“And it has made
you very rich.”

Caus snorted. 
“Oh, you have
no
idea.”

Yes I do, you
disgusting bastard,
Jer’ait thought, but he didn’t say it. 

Caus mistook his
rush of anger and laughed.  “Why, my friend,” he cried, slapping a filthy hand
against Jer’ait’s shoulder.  “I do believe you are jealous!”

“I just fear for
your safety,” Jer’ait replied.  “Something like that is considered a war
crime.  As is the stolen food, come to think of it.  Will Congress not come
after you?”

Caus made a
sound of complete disdain.  “Let them.  Congress has tried before.  Sixteen
times.  I killed every one of the Huouyt scum myself.” 

Which was
untrue.  Usually Caus huddled in a corner while his cronies did the dirty work,
but Jer’ait wasn’t about to remind him of the fact.  “So how
do
you spot
these assassins, Caus?” Jer’ait asked, knowing he was putting himself in danger
with every tic he prolonged the conversation, but curiosity ate at him.  He hated
things that did not make sense.  “I’ve always wondered.  Your abilities are
legendary, in that respect.  As far as I know, there are only a couple
creatures in all of Congress that are rumored to do the same.”

His target
snorted.  “Between you and me?”

“Of course,”
Jer’ait said.

The Jahul leaned
across the table and lowered his voice.  “I think the Huouyt are without
soul
,
my friend.  Either that, or their damn eyes…  Something about their damn eyes
shields it.  Cuts it away.  Covers it like a casket, you understand?”

Jer’ait
immediately grimaced. 
That
was something he would be cutting from the
recording before handing it over to the Twelfth Hjai.

But Caus
misunderstood his discomfort and lifted a hand to continue.  “Now hear me out,
my friend, hear me out.  I’m not suggesting they’re not sentient.  Gods, no. 
Huouyt are smart.  Smarter than you, smarter than me, smarter than those
extinct slime-mold Geuji.”

“Somehow I doubt
that,” Jer’ait said wryly.

“But their
eyes
…” 
Caus shuddered.  “The only ones I’ve never been able to read have been the
deformed ones.  If Va’ga allowed the deformed ones to train, then people like
me would be few and far between.”  Then he chuckled.  “But the fools never let
those breed.  Sterilize them immediately.”

“Their loss,” Jer’ait
said, unable to suppress his bitterness.  “What of the foodstuffs?  Did you
already make your profits from it?”

Caus snorted,
too caught up in his foolish philosophy to catch Jer’ait’s discomfort.  “I sold
the food,” he said, waving a dismissive hand.  “Deal done, money made.  Now I
sit back and count my credits.” 

Jer’ait schooled
his face and mind into worry.  “But what of the assassins?” he insisted.  “You
said you caught
sixteen
already?  How did you kill them?”

“Slowly,” Caus
laughed.  “We tortured the last one for twelve days, as an example.  The boys
wanted to have some fun.”

Jer’ait’s hand
tightened shamefully of its own accord.  Man’ja had disappeared three weeks
ago.  They had hoped his death was quick.  Some, including Jer’ait, had gone so
far as to hope that he had somehow been kept alive.  “I see,” Jer’ait said
softly, fighting a flush of fury. 

Caus’ black eyes
flickered toward him with surprise…and nervousness.  Jer’ait knew the empath
had felt his unprofessional rush of anger.  “Are you feeling all right, Dagi?”
Caus asked carefully.

Twelve days. 
They tortured him for twelve days. 
Jer’ait found it difficult to
concentrate through his anger, and chose a different poison for the Jahul than
he had been planning.  One that took its time to kill.  “Not well, no,” Jer’ait
informed him.  “They were my brethren.  The last was my protégé.”

Caus’ tiny black
eyes widened and he moved to flip open the booth once more.  Jer’ait’s hand
fell upon his and rested there.  Caus froze utterly as Jer’ait shoved a spine
through his palm and injected a poison under the crime-lord’s skin.  Caus’
mouth immediately fell open and his skin shifted from a gray to a yellow-green
to a black as he emptied every wastes bladder he had over his dying body.  Slowly,
the crime-lord slumped forward on the table, bulging black eyes wide as they
stared up at Jer’ait.

“Did it never
occur to you that eventually they would stop sending amateurs?” Jer’ait said
softly.  He pulled a small black recorder from under his clothing and turned it
on.  He set it on the table in front of the dying crime boss.

“
Caus
Rathsaba, you have been found guilty of numerous crimes against Congress,
including treason, murder, theft, smuggling…
”

Jer’ait took Caus’
personal planner and tucked it under his vest.  Then he climbed onto the table
with all the grace an ungainly sextuped pattern would allow, planted his two
back feet beside the crime-lord’s head, and tugged open the vent.  It was large
enough for his purposes. 

He pulled
himself up and pulled the vent shut once his feet were clear.  Behind him, on
the table, the recorder droned on.

“
…hereby
sentenced to death by poison.
”

Jer’ait had
disappeared into the inner workings of the Ueshi foodservice complex and was on
his way back to Levren before the crime-lord’s underlings produced enough
courage to break into their boss’s booth and discover the body.

He was called
for another assignment only two days upon his return.

Most would have
found the lack of leave after such a long, dangerous mission to be insulting,
but Jer’ait detested idleness.  He lived to hunt.

He stepped into
the Peacemaster’s office and sat when the Twelfth Hjai directed him to a chair.

“I don’t suppose
I have to tell you that was well done, Jer’ait.”  Yua’nev regarded him from
behind his large desk, his perfect, electric-blue eyes utterly emotionless.

Jer’ait had
never liked his superior.  They had gone through training together and Jer’ait
was the better of the two to have come out of Va’ga alive, but Jer’ait carried
a deformity and Yua’nev did not.  Thus, Yua’nev had the twelve-pointed star of
Twelfth Hjai and Jer’ait remained forever ensconced at Eleventh.  The disparity,
however, allowed Jer’ait to continue to do field assignments, which he
appreciated.  “Who do you want to die next?”

The Peacemaster
gave him an appraising look, then handed a small black reader across the desk. 
“A Human.”

“A what?” 
Jer’ait cocked his head, wondering if he had misheard.

“Read it.” 
Yua’nev gestured at the reader.  “One of the newest species.  Bipeds,
dexterous, high lingual capacities—”

“I know what a Human
is,” Jer’ait interrupted.  “I want to know why you need one killed.  They are
hardly major players in Congress.”

“Apparently,
that might not be the case,” Yua’nev said, with all the poise of the Twelfth
Hjai.  “We’ve recently received a tip regarding this particular Human that we
find disturbing.”

That caught his
interest.  “What kind of tip?”

“The Trith
kind.”

Jer’ait
stiffened as a thousand different thoughts hurled through his head at once.  The
Trith were allied against Congress.  They were the only species in the entire
history of the universe that had not fallen to the power of Koliinaat and the
Regency.  They managed to do this because, as a species, they could see every
moment of every future incident from now until the end of time.  That a Trith
was involved was…disturbing.  “Go on.”

“You are aware that
Aez was just destroyed?” Yua’nev asked.

“I heard as
much.”

“Along with the
message about the Human, we received a prediction that Aez was about to become
its own asteroid belt.”

Jer’ait peered
down at the reader, fixing the Human’s features in his mind.  “A Trith sent us
this prediction?  Why?  They hate Congress.”

“We are aware of
that,” Yua’nev said.  The Peacemaster was in natural pattern, despite the
inconvenience that a Huouyt’s three naturally-aquatic, boneless legs afforded
him. 

Jer’ait watched
as Yua’nev ran a paddle-like hand across the surface of his desk, trailing
breja that writhed in white threads across the polished stone.  It was a
gesture that belied his superior’s anxiety, and Jer’ait watched it with disdain
and amusement.  Even with his perfect eyes, Yua’nev allowed his thoughts to
show. 

“However,” the
Peacemaster said, returning his attention to Jer’ait, “a Trith does not lie. 
And, if even a fraction of what it predicted in its message comes true, this Human
must be killed.”

“What was the
prediction?”

“It told us,
before we even knew the Dhasha Vahlin existed, that this Human would vanquish
it.”