Zero Recall (73 page)

The box didn’t reply.

Joe ran his fingers along
the box’s controls, stopping on the SPEAKER light.  It was lit up, waiting.

“I know you can hear me,”
Joe said.  “And I know damn well you know who I am.”  He pulled his hand away
from the controls and fisted it.  “Which means you know I’m going to eject your
ass into space if you don’t answer me.  You the Geuji?”

For a long moment, he
thought the alien would not reply.  Then, softly, “Yes.”  The voice almost
sounded…scared.

Joe stared at the box. 
It wasn’t what he had envisioned, in his fantasies of this moment.  He had
expected to see some grand mastermind, splayed across a thousand different
instruments and machines, conducting the dance that had sent him to Koliinaat,
tugging the strings to send people like him to their deaths in the millions. 
Instead, the Geuji almost looked…entombed.  Trapped in its own coffin.  Joe
ached to see the creature on the other side, to know what kind of being had
sent him into those tunnels.

“You know why I’m here,”
Joe said.

“Bagkhal.”  It had taken
the creature on the other end no more than a second.

“Yeah,” Joe said, choking
up this time.  “Bagkhal.”  He eyed the IMMOLATE button.  “Why’d you make me do
it?”

For a long moment, the
Geuji said nothing.

“Why?!” Joe screamed,
slamming his fist hard against the side, just missing the button.

“He asked that it would
be you,” Forgotten said quietly. 

“Why?”  It came out as a
hoarse whisper.

“He wanted to die with a
friend.”

Joe almost pushed the
button.  Almost.  His thumb touched it, caressed it, felt its smoothness under
his finger.  Then he closed his eyes and wept.  He ducked his forehead to the
side of the cold, metal crate and struggled to get his breathing under control. 
“Why?”

“Bagkhal had one
thousand, eight hundred and seventy-two male heirs,” Forgotten said.  “By
Dhasha law, a Dhasha male is unable to take mates until his father is dead.”

Joe blinked at the box
through tears, staring at the steel that was ninths from his nose.  Bagkhal had
mentioned his heirs, and that Jemria would take care of them.  “So?” he asked.

“Your friend schooled all
of his heirs in his personal ethical and moral code, but even though some had
seen over six hundred turns, they were impotent in society, by the Dhasha’s own
rules.  Now they can disperse to the four corners of the known universe and have
families of their own.  They can take important positions in society, start
drafting laws, enforcing codes, leading by example.  Some might even become
princes and draw whole planets into their rule, spreading their philosophy. 
Many, if I can help it.”

Joe stared at the box. 
“You killed him so his sons could
breed
?”

“What better way to
spread his ideals to an entire universe?”

“You son of a
bitch
!”
Joe snarled.  He pounded the side of the crate.  “You hear me?  You goddamn son
of a
bitch
!”

“I hear you,” Forgotten
said softly.

“Bagkhal said it was a
test,” Joe managed.  He wiped his eyes again.  “What was the test?  And don’t ashing
lie to me.  There’s a button out here that says Immolate, you nasty vaghi ashsoul.”

“I know there is,”
Forgotten whispered.  “My world collapses every time I feel you hit the crate. 
By my calculations, you’re about a thumb’s-width from pushing it.”

“What was the test?” Joe
demanded, punching the crate again.  “I swear to God I’m hitting it if you
don’t answer me.”

“Loyalty,” Forgotten
said.  “It was to prove your loyalty.”

“Excuse me?” Joe asked
hoarsely.

“Your former groundmate
has had a vendetta against you from the beginning.  Wrongfully.  Because a
Trith attempted to take you out of the picture.  Bagkhal and I could think of
no better way for you to prove your loyalty to Congress.”

For over a tic, Joe
couldn’t think.  All he could do was stare blindly at the box through tears. 
“Are you telling me,” he managed, “you traded my life for his?”

Forgotten did not reply.

“Answer me,” he whispered
in fury.

“You are more important than
you know,” Forgotten said finally.

“You traded my life for
his.  Because of the Trith.”

“No,” Forgotten said.  “I
hate the Trith.  The Trith are meddling, controlling, backstabbing little
Huouyt that should all be shot on sight.  I kill as many as I can, but they
unfortunately have the capacity to reproduce.”

“They have an agenda, and
they make sure the whole world dances on their strings,” Joe said softly.

Forgotten went utterly
silent.

“You know,” Joe said,
eying IMMOLATE, “while pushing that button would totally make my millennium, it
won’t be nearly as satisfying as stomping the soot outta you before I blast you
full of plasma and eject your ass into space.”  Joe slid his hand along the
control panel and hit the OPEN mechanism.  He had to back out of the way as the
box folded open.  A crushed and folded roll of black, quivering flesh slid
outward, pooling in a wrinkled pile on the floor in front of him.

Joe stared down at the glistening
heap of ebony tissue, feeling somehow let down.  It seemed almost…pathetic.

Joe turned to walk around
the Geuji and the entire pile of flesh flinched in a tiny, helpless spasm.

It can’t even crawl
away
, Joe thought.  He watched it ripple and quiver for several moments
before he looked away, feeling sick.  Into the silence that followed, he said,
“Can you still hear me?”

The pause seemed
infinite.  Then, a small and frightened, “…yes.” 

Joe said nothing.  He
watched the Geuji, struggling between his fury and his self-disgust.  Finally,
he lifted his arm and tossed his coat aside.  The motion made the Geuji’s
entire body give another tiny flinch.

“The air gonna kill you?”
Joe demanded.

“No.”

“You gonna get some
horrible infection or something if I touch you?”

The pile of flesh
quivered again.  “No.”

“Will it hurt?” Joe demanded.

There was a long,
horrible pause.  “I can’t defend myself,” the Geuji finally whispered.

“I meant you,” Joe
muttered gruffly.  “Will it hurt you?”

The flesh went suddenly
still.  “Aside from terrify the hell out of me?” Forgotten said.  “No.”

“I want you to promise me
something,” Joe said.  “And I want you to shake on it.  As best as you goddamn
can.  You understand what I’m getting at?”

“I’m too scared to really
think straight at the moment,” Forgotten managed.

“There’s not much to
understand.  I’m offering you a bargain, and you’re gonna accept it, and swear
your oath on it, or I’m going to send you on your very own spacewalk.”

“I get that much,”
Forgotten whispered.  “I don’t know what you want.”

“Must be a new experience
for you, huh?” Joe said dryly.

“Not new,” the Geuji said
quietly.  “Just hasn’t happened recently.”

Joe considered.  Then he
walked forward and squatted beside the pile of flesh.  It flinched again, a
whole fraction of a dig, like a slug that was glued to the floor.  “All right,”
Joe said, “you ready?”

“Yes,” Forgotten said,
his voice barely audible.

“I want you to think
about this,” Joe said, “the next time you are out there pulling strings.”

For a long time,
Forgotten simply huddled there, waiting.  Then, tentatively, “Think about
what?”

“This,” Joe said.  He
continued to squat beside the Geuji and waited.

Tics passed.  “That’s
all?”

“It’s a lot to think
about,” Joe said.  “If you’re doing it right.”

“I…suppose it is.”

“Okay,” Joe said.  “Ready
to shake on it?”

The Geuji’s body gave
another tiny flinch, but he said, “Yes.”  Then, after a moment of hesitation,
“But could you simply lay your hand down?  Trying to move me could
be…damaging.”

In response, Joe put his
hand down on the Geuji’s body and held it there.  “Listen to me, you miserable vaghi,”
he said softly, “nobody likes to have their life in someone else’s hands.  It
sucks.  A lot.”

“Understood,” Forgotten
whispered.  To his credit, his cool flesh beneath Joe’s hand barely quivered.

“I read something once
that kinda applies to you,” Joe went on.  “Was on some art my dad collected, I
think.  Hard for me to remember.  Was a long time ago.  But anyway.  With great
power comes great responsibility.  And you’ve got the ability to change the
world.”

“I…” Forgotten hesitated,
“…know.”

“All right.”  Joe lifted
his hand from the Geuji’s body.  “That’s all I wanted to say.”  He stood to
go.  Wandering over to retrieve his coat, he took one last look at the Geuji,
whose vulnerable ebony body was rippling much like the constant moving black
waves of texture inside a Congressional nannite spaceship.  He turned away.  “Watcher,
take me to—”

“Wait,” Forgotten
interrupted.  “I would like to add to that.”

Joe hesitated and turned
back to the Geuji.

“But with great responsibility,
one finds great loneliness,” Forgotten intoned.  “Can I call you a friend?”

Joe laughed.  “I just threatened
to incinerate you and jettison your ass into space.”

“You had just cause.  May
I?”  The desperation in the Geuji’s voice was unmistakable.

Joe snorted.  “I have no
misconceptions about what’s going to happen to me once I leave you here.  I’m
going to go right back to being your puppet.  Dancing to your tune, doing
whatever it is you had planned for me.  And I know you
did
have
something planned for me.  I’m the only one of the survivors of Neskfaat who
didn’t do something important afterwards.”  He cocked his head.  “Well, me and
the Grekkon.  But they’re almost classified as non-sents, so that leaves me.”

Forgotten was silent a
very long time.  Then, “You will.”

“Then we can’t really be
friends, can we?” Joe asked.

It seemed to take an
eternity for the Geuji to finally answer.  “No.”

“Goodbye Forgotten.  Make
sure you think about it.”

“I will.”

Joe took one last look at
the Geuji’s quivering ebony mass.  “Watcher,” he said, “I’d like to go back,
now.”

#

“Okay, I sent out those
To Be Forgotten files and got us launched a few hours ago,” Syuri said as he
opened the door and stepped into the shuttle bay.  “Your real confession was
all over the news.  Species preservationists jumped all over—”  Upon seeing the
Geuji sprawled out on the unfolded box, Syuri froze, his chambers tightening
painfully.  “Forgotten?”

A wave of relief hit his
sivvet so strong that Syuri staggered.

“Sweet Hagra!” Syuri
cried, rushing up to crouch beside the sentient mold.  He hesitated at the edge
of the flesh, afraid to touch it.  “What happened?”

“My box opened
unexpectedly.”  The voice was muffled, as the speaker was now facing the floor.

“Was the Baga in here?”
Syuri demanded, looking around the room for the sneaky, insectoid alien that
had disappeared the moment Forgotten had been safely tucked away on Syuri’s
ship. 

“No.  Did you purchase
the robotics?”

“Well, yes,” Syuri said,
reluctant to leave the subject of how the Geuji had come to be sprawled across
the floor.  “They’ll be waiting for us in the Jakun system.  Are you sure we
can wait that long?  What if you dry out?”

“There should be a
humidity control on the ship.  The cargo bay needs to be as close to the
absolute saturation point as you can get it.  And, apologies, but quicker would
actually be better, in that respect.  I’ve been trying not to panic for several
hours, now.”  There was a tension in the Geuji’s words that made Syuri’s
chambers tighten further.

Syuri got up and hurried
to the humidity controls, cranked it to the max, and the room began to fill
with cold, clammy air.  When he returned, the Geuji was exactly where he had
left him. 

“So,” Syuri hedged
reluctantly, looking at the Geuji’s quivering mass, “uh, was this in the plan?”

For the first time since Syuri
had met the Geuji, Forgotten laughed.  “No.  It wasn’t in the plan, Syuri.”

“Is everything still
going to be okay?” Syuri asked, somewhat unnerved by the Geuji’s laughter.

“Did the news agencies
play my confession?”

“Yes,” Syuri said.  “The
Jreet dropped everything and all went to the Regency to watch the fight.  All
the Sentinels.  They say they’re lining up to challenge, whether Daviin wins or
not.”

“Then it’ll be fine,”
Forgotten told him.

“So what are you going to
do?” Syuri asked.  “Take down Congress?  There’s talk that Aliphei might have
to abdicate.”

“He won’t.”  Forgotten
quieted.  “Syuri, may I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“If I were to say to you,
‘With great power comes great responsibility,’ what would you say to me?”

Syuri gave the Geuji a
wary glance and backed up a couple digs.  “Not no, but
hell
no, Jemria. 
Leave the Representative seat to the Jreet.  Last thing I want is power
or
responsibility, you damned corpse-rot.  It was bad enough all the
money
you
stuffed in my accounts.  You
know
I’m just gonna have to give a lot of
it away, right?  I’m a pirate, not a perfumed politician.”

“You’re a smuggler.  You
haven’t killed anybody.”

Syuri opened his mouth to
argue, then realized that arguing with a Geuji was so innately stupid that it
was used as a colloquialism for the epitome of pointlessness.  He shut his
mouth and glared.

“You aren’t going to
argue?” Forgotten asked, sounding amused.

Syuri gave him an
irritated look.  “I wonder what’s on the waves.”  He went over to the little
communications console set into the shelving units and turned on the wall-screen,
then dialed it in to the Koliinaati waves.  Immediately, the ongoing battle
between the two big Jreet showed up in a heat-spectrum overlay, showing the two
contestants currently in the process of demolishing the Regency floor.