Zero Recall (7 page)

Jer’ait leaned
forward, interested.  “There was more.  Otherwise you would give it your
blessing and see it on its way.”

Yua’nev’s
perfect, mirror-like eyes held Jer’ait’s as the Peacemaster inclined his head. 
“The message also predicted that this Human would destroy Congress.”

“Really.” 
Jer’ait felt a twisting inside his head as tingles of alarm constricted his
zora
. 
“Did it say how?”

“He will fulfill the
Fourfold Prophecy.”

Jer’ait slowly
let out his breath and fought to keep his
breja
from rippling against
his skin like a raw recruit.  “You are sure this is not a prank?”

“Aez was
annihilated
,
Jer’ait.  It was the only warning we had.”

“Is it possible
that the one who destroyed Aez sent the message?” Jer’ait demanded.  “Perhaps
it
wants
this Human dead.”

“It was a
Trith,” the Peacemaster said.  “A Trith has not been recorded in a few hundred
thousand turns, either digitally or otherwise.  Our language experts tell us it
doesn’t match the ancient Trith we have on file.”

“
Doesn’t
match?”
Jer’ait asked, curious.

“No.  It
contained minor evolutionary changes natural in the course of language
development.  We had experts chart it.  Every altered word has a root and an
evolutionary path.  The message was given by a modern-day Trith.  One that
learned the Trith language as it is spoken now, not a few hundred thousand turns
ago.  Our linguists confirmed it.”

Jer’ait
continued to frown down at the Human’s picture.  “It could not have been
faked?”

“No
supercomputer in the universe could do this,” Yua’nev said, “even if it had
somehow acquired an ancient sample, which is highly classified information
accessible only by the Peacemaster, a few select Corps Directors, and
Representatives of Congress.  It was a Trith.”

“Very well,”
Jer’ait said, still somewhat confused.  Any fool knew that if a Trith
prophesized an event, any attempt to prevent it would only force it to happen. 
“What do you want me to do?”

“The Trith
warned us of one disaster and it came true.  We’ve got two more predictions to
go on.”

Slowly, it
dawned on Jer’ait what his superior was asking.  “You want me to make sure the
Human lives long enough to kill the Vahlin, then kill him before he can fulfill
the Fourfold Prophecy.”

“Yes.”

“And you think
we can somehow
change
this?”  Jer’ait eyed the Human displayed on his
screen once more.  Its blocky face and tiny, dirt-brown eyes didn’t appear to
house the great talent and intellect needed to shatter Congress.  “Just how
many times have the Trith been wrong?”

“When they have
been gracious enough to prophesize for us?”  Yua’nev snorted.  “Never.”

“And what makes
you think they’ll be wrong this time?” Jer’ait asked, still confused as to why
Yua’nev was trying to fulfill one prophecy and not the other…when the
intelligent thing would be to simply kill the Human outright.

“Because if you
fail, then I will send another,” Yua’nev replied.  “And another.  And another. 
I’ll send the whole of the Peacemakers after him, if I must.  The Human will
never survive to see his destiny.”

“And you’re
sure
this is his destiny?”  This nagged at him.  Trith were not usually
so…generous…in their observations. 

“There’s another
Human,” Yua’nev said.  “One who trained with him in Basic.  She has been making
similar complaints against your target for fifty turns, ever since she had a
Trith visit of her own.”

Jer’ait’s
breja
rippled.  “So long?  Why has no one dealt with it before this?”

“Your target
happens to be one of the most decorated soldiers in Congress,” Yua’nev said
with a wry look.  “Six
kasjas
to his name. 
Despite
his former
groundmate’s constant intervention.  By all accounts, it should probably be
more like fourteen.”

Suddenly, the
thought that this Human would fulfill the Fourfold Prophecy became much easier
to imagine.  Jer’ait glanced again at the blocky, pinkish face, trying to
picture it earning one kasja, let alone six.  It was difficult.  When Jer’ait
looked at the creature, all he saw were brittle bones to break, tiny eyes, and
a fragile brain-casing.

Finally Jer’ait
said, “Six kasjas?  That would never have stopped us before.”

“He also had a Dhasha
prince backing him,” Yua’nev said.  “One we wholly respected.”

“You mean you
were afraid of him.”

Yua’nev’s
electric-blue eyes showed no reaction.  “He is Representative Mekkval’s
brother.  Prince Bagkhal.  Your target is Commander Zero.”

Jer’ait twisted
his face.  “This sounds like it might be annoying.”

“Not overly. 
Follow the Human.  Become his friend.  Then, once he fulfills the first
prophecy, kill him before he has a chance to fulfill the second.  Leave no
trails back to us.”

“Become his
friend,” Jer’ait said, idly scanning the information on the datapad.  “How?”

“You will be
assigned to his PlanOps groundteam starting tomorrow.”

A…groundteam. 
Charged with killing Dhasha.  The unpleasantness increased by several notches
in Jer’ait’s mind.  He scanned the photo.  “Has it occurred to you that I might
die on Neskfaat before I have a chance to kill him?  This might be a
self-fulfilling prophecy, Yua’nev.  You send me into a war that has a
horrendous survival rate and you may not know I’m dead until after the Human
has switched sides.  If you ask me, I should kill him as soon as I see him.”

“No,” the
Peacemaster commanded.

Jer’ait glanced
up.  “It is the wise thing to do.”

“No,” Yua’nev
repeated.  “This Dhasha Vahlin is what we’ve been fearing.  He’s uniting the
Dhasha.  Calling them to the systems surrounding Neskfaat from all across
Congress.  He
will
carve a hole in our society, unless we can stop him.”

“Just because
this Human is prophesized to kill him doesn’t mean that someone else can’t do
it in the Human’s stead,” Jer’ait reminded his commander.

“You will not
kill him until the Vahlin takes his last breath,” Yua’nev ordered.  “Understood?”

Jer’ait returned
his attention to the Human.  “That pattern looks as irritating as the Jahul. 
How long will I be required to hold it?”

“You will not
take a Human pattern.”

“I…won’t?”  He
peered back at Yua’nev, frowning.

“No.  You’re
going as a Huouyt.  As yourself.”

Jer’ait
flinched, his
breja
curling tightly against his body.  “Is that wise?”

“This Human spent
time on Eeloir,” Yua’nev said.  “He is reputed to be able to spot a Huouyt.”

Jer’ait
snorted.  He’d heard
that
before.  “I just killed a Jahul crime lord. 
If
anyone
could’ve spotted me, it would have been him.”

“You go as
yourself,” Yua’nev said again.  “Your natural pattern.  No disguise.  Jer’ait
Ze’laa vehn Morinth, younger brother of Rri’jan vehn Morinth.  Va’ga-trained. 
Number one in the kill rankings.  A Peacemaker on loan from the Twelfth Hjai,
due to Overseer Phoenix’s request.”

The reader began
to tremble in Jer’ait’s hand before he calmed himself.  “You are the only one
outside of Va’ga who has seen my true form.  I should at least take the shape
of another Huouyt—”

“No,” Yua’nev
interrupted.  “You will be on Commander Zero’s groundteam.  You will need to
change shape in front of him.  You will go without a pattern.”

Jer’ait had
never allowed anyone else to see him for what he was.  To do so now… 

Slowly, he said,
“Since leaving Va’ga, I have made certain to keep my deformity hidden, remaining
in borrowed patterns, giving my shame no chance to assault another’s eyes. 
It’s the only reason the purists have overlooked the fact I left Morinth.  If I
flaunt my deformity in public, the other Huouyt will call for my death.”

“Will this be a
problem for you?” Yua’nev asked.  His perfect eyes were like cold mirrors.

Shame and anger
twined within him like lovers.  “No,” Jer’ait said, locking his misery away. 
“I can kill in any pattern.”

CHAPTER
5:  The Hungry Kitten

Joe listened in
silence as the Ooreiki Peacemaker described the various Headquarters
installations he would have to visit to re-activate his enlistment term.  He
said nothing as they summarized his itinerary and his new command system.  The
Corps Directors were panicking over the Dhasha rebellion, ordering Planetary
Ops to put together teams of their best soldiers—regardless of species—to make
up the first wave of the Congressional attack.  Phoenix wanted Joe in the midst
of it.  Of course.  Because everyone going to Neskfaat was going to die.

Joe listened,
but said nothing.  The two Ooreiki Peacemakers expected him to leave with them
that night.  Two days before he was supposed to meet his brother.

The Ooreiki
seemed to notice Joe’s silence for the first time.  The huge, slitted pupils of
its sticky brown eyes dilated to massive black ovals, its leathery face
anxious.  “Commander?  Is everything all right?”

“I’d like a
couple extra days to take care of my affairs.”

“Sorry, sir.” 
There was real anguish in the young Ooreiki’s dark brown face as it twisted its
eight boneless fingers together.  “Overseer Phoenix gave me orders to ensure
you arrive on the staging planet of Jeelsiht as soon as possible.  We’ve
already talked to Relocations for collection and long-term storage of your
belongings.  They’ll take care of the details.  Right now, Phoenix wants you to
get acquainted with your new groundteam.  Your Battlemaster and your acting
Second are waiting for you in the barracks here, and the rest are waiting on
Jeelsiht.  You’ll only have a few weeks to get to know each other before
they’ll be sending in the first wave on Neskfaat, so Phoenix wants you to begin
as soon as possible.”

Joe didn’t give
a damn what Maggie wanted, but he nodded anyway.  “Understood.  Anything else?”

“No, sir.”  The
Battlemaster handed him a thin black sheet detailing his orders. 

“Very well,” Joe
said, reading them.  “I’ll see you again in a couple hours.”

The Ooreiki
Battlemaster’s face wrinkled in a relieved alien smile.  “Yes, sir.”  He had
obviously expected—and feared—resistance.  “Sorry to bring bad news, sir. 
We’ll be waiting for you in the shuttle station.” 

Joe nodded and watched
them leave.  As soon as they were out of sight, his polite façade faded.  He
glanced down at the orders in his hand, then climbed the stairs to his apartment. 
He set the note from Command on the bed and began packing his meager
possessions.  When he was finished, he threw the duffel bag over his shoulder
and tossed the thin black government sheet into the trash on the way out.  He
knew it was the final straw Maggie could use to get him permanently thrown in
the brig, or executed, but he didn’t care.

God hates a coward.
 

After fifty-three turns
of wondering, Joe wasn’t leaving Earth without seeing his brother.

Twelve hours
later, Joe was in Nevada.  He found the Hungry Kitten half an hour outside of
Las Vegas.  He set the
haauk
down in the sun-baked parking-lot and
stepped into the dusky interior. 

Music and the
scent of cigarettes wafted back to him as a bulky man in sunglasses stopped him
to check for weapons.  He grunted at the tattoo on Joe’s right palm, but
otherwise said nothing.  Joe paid the cover charge and walked through the heavy
red curtain into the din of the dance room.  Finding the contorting,
skimpily-clad women strange without the hormone-induced musculature and bald,
pale skin of a Congie, Joe found a quiet table and sat down.

“Any idea where
I can find Mindy?” Joe asked the mostly-naked waitress who came to take his
order.

The
overly-tanned woman gave his pale skin a suspicious look.  “Who’s askin’?”

“Joe Dobbs.”

“Never heard of
you.”

“I was told to
come here.”

“Sure you were. 
You look like a cop.”

“I’m a Congie.” 
Joe held up his right palm.

The woman
snorted.  “Fake.”

“You know it
isn’t.”

She gave him a
patronizing smile behind too much makeup.  “Look…guy…I’ve got other people
needin’ drinks.  You gonna order or what?”

“Just tell Mindy
I need to meet our friend sooner than expected.”

“I don’t know no
Mindy.  You gonna order or what?”

Joe hurled the
table across the room as he got to his feet.  Into the silence following the
crash of the table and broken glass, he shouted, “Look, they’re calling me back
and I just want to see my brother before I gotta go die on some burning Dhasha
planet.  Why’s it gotta be so goddamn difficult?!”  He kicked over a chair,
sending it careening across the room to shatter against the wall.

Even after rotations
without the Congie nanos and drugs, Joe was still stronger than most.

The bouncers
converged on him, and Joe, already in a foul mood from going AWOL, threw the
first punch.  He was doing all right, knocking out three and keeping the rest
at a wary distance, until one of them drew a taser and fired it at him.  Then
the three that were still conscious began pounding his face into hamburger.

Joe passed out
long before they tossed him on his head in the dusty parking lot and took to
tearing apart his
haauk
.

When he woke up,
Joe was sprawled in the dust behind the building, curled amongst the trash
bags.  He grunted and righted himself, then stumbled around to the front.

Six police
haauk
lined the parking-lot.  Two more hovered near the road.  Joe ducked back behind
the building, his heart pounding. 

“Hey!” a Human
voice shouted.  “You there!”