Authors: Sara King
Over
the next several days, Nebil kept them locked in the barracks, having Takki
deliver food to them at the appropriate times. Through brief visits by their
battlemaster, Joe learned that Knaaren was currently eating his way through his
slaves—all of them. The Training Committee had ordered all Ooreiki and human personnel
to stay indoors until they could send a replacement. Because of this, the
recruits had hereto unknown hours of free time, which most of them spent
giggling under the covers.
Joe,
however, made sure to sit over by the chamber pots, pretending to clean his
rifle, until Libby went to sleep. Only then would he go to bed.
As he
was starting to undress, Monk grinned at him and whispered “Takki.”
Irritated,
Joe left his clothes on and retreated to the baths.
“Jacking
off isn’t gonna help!” Monk called after him.
Joe’s
ears burned. Behind him, many recruits laughed.
Slowly,
rigidly, he returned to the bed and grabbed Monk by the wrist. Even as her
eyes widened and she tried to resist, he jerked her out of the bed and dragged
her with him to the baths. Inside, he slammed the door shut and blocked it
with his body.
Monk
made a nervous giggle and gave him an apprehensive look.
“This,”
Joe said, “has got to stop.”
Behind
him, Sasha banged on the door. “Zero?! Open the door!” Sasha shouted. “I’m
your battlemaster and Nebil said you can’t shut the door! You leave her alone
and open the door.
Now!”
Joe
crossed his arms, his eyes never leaving Monk.
“Come
on, Joe,” Monk said. “Everybody knows you want each other. Libby beat some
girl senseless when she said you had a nice back.”
Joe’s
arms unfolded in astonishment. “She did?” On the other side of the door,
Sasha’s shouts were getting angrier, the pounding more violent.
“You’re
the two best soldiers in Sixth,” Monk said. “You’re perfect for each other.
Everybody sees it.”
“She’s
eight
,
for ashes’ sake!” Joe said. “And what are you?
Six
?!”
“I’m as
big as either of my parents,” Monk said.
Before
she could flinch away, he reached out and tapped her bald skull. “You’re still
a kid in here, though. Just because you shoot guns and swear doesn’t make you
an adult.”
Monk
pouted. “You think we’re all still babies, but we’re not. We’ve seen stuff
that would make our parents piss themselves, and we’re still here.”
She had
a point. Joe sighed. “All right. Fine. What’s it gonna take for you to stop
pushing it?”
Monk
shrugged. “Just do something about her,” she said. “Yesterday, she asked
Nebil to transfer her to another platoon.”
Joe’s
mouth fell open in shock.
“Nebil
told her to deal with her own burning problems,” Monk said, “But Joe, she’s
really determined. I think she might go talk to Commander Tril.” She paused,
eying him narrowly. “Did you say something to her?”
Joe
flushed and blurted, “She tried to kiss me. I told her I just wanted to
sharpen my knife.”
Monk
pursed her lips. “Wow. Here I thought neither of you had the balls to make
the first move… No wonder she hates you. She must think you didn’t kiss her
because she has no tongue.”
Oh soot.
Joe swallowed, hard.
“Now
you have to do it,” Monk said.
“Huh?”
he said, unable to hear over his pounding heart.
“Now
you have to make the first move. It’s the only way she’ll stop hating you.”
“Monk,”
Joe managed, “sorry to say this, but I don’t need relationship counseling from
a six-year-old. Besides, I never said I wanted a relationship in the first
place.”
“Yeah
you do, otherwise you wouldn’t spend all your free time staring at her.”
Joe’s
blush deepened. “I don’t stare.”
“Sure
you do,” Monk retorted. “You look at her like she’s the centerfold of a sex
mag.”
Joe’s
brow creased. “Do you even know what that is?”
Monk shrugged.
“Scott told me. He’s the one who said it first.”
Joe
groaned. “Fine. Okay? I’ll go apologize. Will that get you off my ass?”
“Sure,”
Monk said. “Now maybe you should open the door. I think Sasha went to get the
battlemaster.”
The
thought of Nebil catching them with the door closed made Joe wrench it open
immediately. Sasha was poised outside, one fist hovering over the metal, the
other fist gripping her knife. She gave Joe a look that could have scorched
stone, then peered behind him at Monk, who grinned and gave a cheerful wave.
“A
hundred pushups,” Sasha ordered. “Both of you.”
“Burn
you,” Monk said, pushing past Joe. “Do your own burning pushups.”
Sasha’s
face reddened. “I’ll tell the battlemaster you didn’t listen to me.”
“Good.
Maybe when he sees how you complain about everything like a spoiled brat, he’ll
give Joe his job back.” Monk returned to her bed, ignoring Sasha completely.
Sasha
was shaking as she turned back to Joe, her eyes glittering with outright
hatred. “Go make her do pushups. Five hundred of them.”
Joe
snorted. “I don’t think so.”
“Three
hundred, then.” Sasha almost looked desperate, and soon Joe understood why. By
now, their commotion had woken everyone in the barracks, and she had an
audience. The entire
platoon
was watching. If she didn’t make them
accept some sort of punishment, she would look incompetent.
When
Joe didn’t move, Sasha turned to two other ground leaders. “Grab them. Help
me punish them.”
Carl
and Sherri hesitated.
From
the bed, Monk laughed. “The only person they’re ever gonna listen to is Joe.
You’re just a crazy bitch with a knife.”
In that
instant, Sasha lunged at Monk and landed on top of her, trapping her under the
cover. Then, almost like in a dream, she drew her knife across Monk’s throat,
the blade biting deep. Even as Monk’s eyes widened in a scream, blood gushed
out over the metal and onto the silvery covers, more blood than Joe ever
thought possible.
Libby
wrenched Sasha off of Monk immediately, but it was too late. Monk’s eyes were
already dulling, her life spilling out over the blanket.
Libby
tore her eyes from Monk and turned to Sasha, who suddenly looked scared. Taking
three purposeful steps forward, Libby ripped the knife from Sasha’s hand and
stabbed her in the neck. Sasha collapsed with a strangled gurgle.
Then
she stood there, staring pitilessly down into Sasha’s white face as she
collapsed on the floor.
It all
happened in a matter of seconds.
“Scott!”
Joe roared, suddenly breaking out of his paralysis, “Get the medics! Maggie,
press down on Monk’s neck! Carl, go get Nebil.
Does anyone have nanos?!”
That
night they found that, despite their great advances, Congress still couldn’t
bring somebody back from the dead.
CHAPTER
32:
Ka-par
Libby,
for her part in Sasha’s death, received the Eighth Degree. Commander Tril had
actually ordered the Ninth Degree, but when Battlemaster Nebil returned to his
platoon to mete out his punishment, Joe saw that he used the setting one notch
below.
Not
that it mattered much for Libby.
This
time, Joe could not keep his eyes free from tears as her low, unintelligible
wail pierced the barracks. They all stood lined up at the ends of their groundteam
bunks, Libby’s naked form struggling against invisible agony on the floor in
front of them.
When it
was over, Nebil put the black device away and stood silently for long minutes,
sudah fluttering. Finally, he said, “Zero, take care of your groundmate.
She’ll be dazed for the next week or so. She might have trouble eating.”
“Shouldn’t
we take her to medical?” Joe asked.
Nebil’s
gaze remained on Libby’s body. “Perceptual punishment is not an ailment
Congress allows its doctors to treat. If they did, it wouldn’t be a
punishment.” Nebil turned to go, but stopped. “Zero, get your platoon under
control. Anything else happens and I’ll hold you responsible.”
“I
thought you couldn’t give me battlemaster,” Joe said, stiffening.
“No ash
like this happened on your watch,” Nebil barked. “You’re it. Tril can go
complain to the Training Committee if he doesn’t like it.”
“I
don’t want it.”
Nebil’s
snakelike pupils narrowed. “What?”
“I
don’t want it,” Joe repeated. “I don’t want ground leader, I don’t want squad
leader, I don’t want anything to do with your burning Army. My friends are
dead
!”
The last came out as a scream.
“You
don’t have a choice.” Nebil’s voice was almost a whisper. “None of us do.”
He rounded and left them gathered around Libby’s body.
Joe was
gritting his jaw so hard that it hurt. Very slowly, he turned to the other
recruits. “What the ashes are you standing around for?! You heard him. Get
some rags and clean her up. I want the smell of shit out of this place in the
next thirty seconds or you’re all doing jumping-jacks until you puke.”
Joe
went to the far wall and sat down in a brooding silence. Once Libby was clean,
Scott and Maggie wrapped her in a blanket and carried her to the bed—the same
bed that was still crusted with Monk’s dried blood. He averted his eyes back
to the spot where Libby had struggled ineffectually moments before. He was
still staring at the same place when Maggie sat down beside him.
Neither
of them said a word.
They
sat like that for hours, until Maggie finally got up and went to join Scott and
Libby in bed. None of them slept.
The
next morning, Nebil came back early. “Grab everything and get to the plaza.
We’re getting inspected. Our new Prime wants to see you.”
Indifferent,
Joe gathered his equipment with the others and halfheartedly marched them to
the plaza, where an enormous Dhasha sat alone at one end, easily twice as big
as Knaaren. His gut clenched reflexively and he swallowed down a spasm of
instinctive fear. Along the other side of the clearing, twenty much smaller
Dhasha sat amidst a swarm of Takki, their emerald eyes alert and curious. A
huge pile of black bricks sat beside them.
“Eyes
forward!” Nebil snapped.
Once
they were all in formation, the plaza was utterly silent except for the
thwapping
of the other battalions’ standards. After a few moments, Joe heard the clicking
scrape of Dhasha talons on diamond chips. Soon a blur of color filled the
corner of his vision and he felt the inevitable surge of rage.
“Commander,”
the massive Dhasha said in a precise, yet heavily-accented Congie, “Why does
your battalion not bear its own standards?”
“Lord
Knaaren withheld them from us, Prince Bagkhal.”
“Oh?
Why?”
“He
decided we were not worthy.”
“Then
he was a furg.” He turned to one of Sixth’s battlemasters. “Go retrieve them
from the armory. If the clerks refuse, tell them I’ll get them myself.” As
the Ooreiki bowed and hurried off, the Dhasha paused, huge egg-shaped emerald
eyes scanning the gathered recruits of Sixth Battalion. “Did Knaaren also
force you wear your uniforms differently?”
“It is
our choice, my lord,” Tril said, bowing low.
“I
see. What else has been withheld from you?” Prince Bagkhal asked, pacing. He
seemed almost naked without an entourage of slaves, but aside from the mass grooming
the younger Dhasha off to one side, Joe could see no Takki in sight.
“Their
bio suits,” Lagrah said. “They were supposed to get them after the first rotation
of training.”
“As you
can see, I have already remedied that problem,” the Dhasha said, gesturing with
his huge head towards the piles of black bricks. “What else?”
Tril stepped
forward. “He took forty-seven of my recruits as slaves. Several of them were
squad leaders.”
“That
cannot be helped.”
“Some
must still be alive.”
“No.
They are not.”
“Then
perhaps you might consider giving me some recruits from another battalion?”
Tril insisted. “We are undermanned.”
“No,
Commander.”
Tril
lowered his appendages in acquiescence.
Prince
Bagkhal clicked his teeth together and went to the next battalion. He circled
the plaza, stopping at every other battalion to speak with its commander, then
returned to the Sixth.
“Commander
Tril, I have need of a personal assistant. I was called too quickly to bring
my own with me. You are not obligated, but I thought I’d give you the honor
before offering it to someone else.”