Forging Zero (9 page)

Joe
carried Maggie on his shoulders, her tiny fingers gripping tufts of his hair to
hold herself steady as he bent low to keep from slamming her head into the low
cafeteria doorframe.

The cafeteria
itself was filled with rows of long ebony tables made of the same glossy black
material as the rest of the ship.  Ahead, dozens of kids stood in line to
receive big white bowls of food an alien took from the nozzle of a humming
metal box.  The food machine was the first piece of furniture Joe had seen that
wasn’t made of the strange black stuff, but it was creepy in its own right. 
The blue metal had an iridescent sheen to it, making it shimmer and glow like
ice.  It reminded him of the thing around his ankle.

“Everybody
here?” Joe asked, glancing behind him.

Scott
made a face.  “Might as well not be.  This stuff is gross.”

Joe eyed
the alien serving the recruits their food.  “I haven’t tasted it yet.” 
Too
busy racking up extra time on my enlistment.

“It’s
green,
”
Maggie said, atop his shoulders.  “And it tastes like the dog bowl.”

Elf
wrinkled his nose.  “Ewwww.”

“Maggie
drinks from the dog bowl!” Monk laughed.

“No she
doesn’t,” Joe said, as they continued to shuffle slowly down the line towards
the humming food-machine.  He cocked his head up at her.  “Do you, Mag?”

He
could feel Maggie’s pout when she said, “It tastes better than the fish bowl.”

“
Ewwww!
”
Elf screeched.

“Quiet!”
Joe said, catching the eye of one of the aliens.  “They’re watching us.”

That
silenced the others immediately.

“Still
think it’s gross,” Scott muttered under his breath.

When
they reached the machine doling out their allotted meals, Joe realized the ‘food’
the aliens were trying to feed them was, to all appearances, pond scum. 
Nevertheless, Joe was at the point he would have eaten worms, had worms been
offered to him.   He accepted a bowl for himself and another for Maggie, then
led the group over to an empty table.

“Where
are the spoons for this stuff?” Joe asked, lowering Maggie to the bench.

“They
don’t give us spoons,” Libby said.  “We’ve got to use our hands.”

The
bastards.
  Joe looked at the pudding-like green
slime for a moment, then scooped up a glob of the stuff with a finger and
tasted it.  Immediately, his stomach recoiled.  It
tasted
like pond
scum.

“Not
that good, is it?” Elf asked, his green-brown eyes watching his expression. 
The other kids, too, were watching him, obviously waiting to take their cue
from the big kid.

Joe
smoothed his features and forced himself to eat some more.  “It’s good.  Kind
of tastes like sushi.” 

“Sushi’s
gross!” Monk cried.

“Then
you haven’t been eating the right sushi.”  Joe scooped a handful into his mouth
and forced himself to swallow.  It was like forcing liquid slime down his
throat, and it was everything Joe could do not to gag in front of the kiddies. 
Struggling with every mouthful, Joe finished his bowl, then tried to get Maggie
to eat.  She stoutly refused.  Instead, she began to cry, and no amount of
soothing words would get her to stop.

Eventually,
Commander Tril noticed. 
“Silence that recruit, Zero.”
  The Ooreiki
strode over to their table and hovered over him, anticipation in his sticky
brown eyes.

Joe
stiffened.  The bastard had followed him to the cafeteria and was
looking
for reasons to punish him.  Joe felt like tossing Maggie’s bowl of scum into
the alien’s face.  But that wouldn’t be fair to Maggie.  “I’m working on it,”
Joe said, as evenly as he could.

Tril
hit him, a soft blow compared to what Joe had already endured, but it almost
knocked him off the bench nonetheless.  The alien actually looked pleased as he
said,
“You will address me as Commander Tril or sir, Takki scum.”
 

Sir
Takki Scum.  Got it.

In
Joe’s arms, Maggie began to cry louder.  Commander Tril drew back to hit her,
too, but Joe pulled her out of the way, putting his body between her and the
alien.  He stood up so he could stare down at his aggressor.  “Leave her
alone—she’s just hungry.”

Tril
glanced at the uneaten bowl of food, then at Maggie. 
“She’s not eating?”

Seeing
the eager look on Tril’s face, Joe felt a lump of dread pool in his gut. 
“She’ll eat it,” he said quickly, not trusting his tone.

“See
that she does,”
Commander Tril said.
  “If she
doesn’t, she will be force-fed.”
  The bastard would probably enjoy it,
too.  Joe’s heart began to pound as he wondered how he would get Maggie to eat.

Giving Maggie
a last, parting look, the alien left them for another victim across the
cafeteria.

Joe
swiveled and tugged Maggie against his chest, patting her back as he watched
the alien leave.  After Tril was out of sight, Joe held Maggie out in front of
him.  “Mag.  Listen to me.  You’ve got to eat.”

“I
don’t
want
to eat!” Maggie cried.  “I want my
Mooooommmmm!
”  She
was hyperventilating, tears streaming down her face in force.

“That
alien’s looking at us again,” Scott whispered.

Immediately,
Joe switched tactics.  “So you had a dog, Maggie?  Was it yours?”

“It’s
my brotheeeeeerrrr’s!” she wailed.

“You
said you had a fishbowl.  You have fish?”

She
perked up a little.  Sniffling, she said, “I’ve got guppies.”

“Oooh! 
Guppies!” Joe cried.  “They’re pretty, aren’t they?”

Maggie’s
teary gray eyes widened and she nodded.  “Jabber’s got spots.”

“I
always wanted guppies,” Joe said.  “What about you, Scott?  Did you ever have
guppies?”

Scott
shot a glance at Commander Tril and shook his head.

“See? 
Not even
Scott
had guppies,” Joe cried.  “How many guppies did you have,
Mag?”

“Five!”
she said immediately, obviously having been drilled by her parents.

“Five,
wow,” Joe said.  “Did you feed them?”

Maggie
grinned, nodding.  “One pinch.”  She put her tiny thumb and forefinger together
and held it up to his face.

“Good,”
Joe said, grinning.  “When I get guppies, I’ll make sure to give them a pinch. 
I’ve got some food I keep at home, just for when I get guppies.  You know what
fish food tastes like, Mag?”

Maggie
shook her head, enthralled.

“Sure
you do.  It’s really good.”

“Ew—”
Elf began.  Joe shot him a glare and he shut his mouth with a snap.

“Mom
didn’t let me eat the fish food,” Maggie bemoaned.

“She
didn’t?!  Well, that’s too bad.  You mind if I eat your fish food, Mag?”

Maggie
frowned.  “I don’t have any fish food anymore.”

“Then
what’s that right there?”  Joe pointed to the uneaten glop in her bowl.

Maggie
followed his gaze and her frown deepened.  “That’s yuck.”

“No,
that’s fish food.  They dry it out so it can fit in the canisters better. 
Sometimes they even dye it different colors so the guppies will have prettier
spots.”

Maggie’s
eyes widened and she looked back at the slop in her bowl.  Monk rolled her eyes
and Scott elbowed her in the side.

“But,”
Joe said, “When it’s green like that, that’s the special stuff.  You ever heard
of Popeye, Mag?”

Maggie’s
eyes lit up.  “Popeye eats fish food?”

Joe
couldn’t have been more relieved.  “Yeah.  Loves it.  It’s just concentrated
spinach.  Makes you grow big and strong.  So can I have your fish food, Mag?” 
He said the last and held his breath, knowing that everything was going to
hinge on Maggie’s answer.

Teary-eyed,
Maggie glanced at him, then to her bowl, then back at him.  Her little brow
furrowed.  “You don’t need any more,” she said, pulling her bowl away from
him.  “You’re big enough.”

“So you
wanna give it to Elf, instead?” Joe demanded.

Maggie
frowned at Elf, who grinned back at her.  Possessively, she pulled the bowl
away from Elf, too.  “It’s mine,” Maggie said.  She stuck a tiny finger into
the slime and sampled it.  Immediately, she wrinkled her nose.  “Tastes bad,”
she muttered.

“That’s
all the good stuff they put in it,” Joe said quickly.  “For the guppies.”

“And
Popeye?” Maggie asked.

“And
Popeye,” Joe agreed.

Maggie
gave the green goo an uncertain look, and for a moment, Joe thought she would
shove it away again.  Then, tears still glistening on her cheeks, she took a
deep breath, visibly steadied herself, and proceeded to eat everything in her
bowl.  “I guess it’s not so bad,” she said, when she finished.  Then she
glanced down at herself.  “I think I’m getting bigger already!” she cried,
holding up her arm for Joe.

Monk
snorted, but Joe obligingly pinched Maggie’s bicep between thumb and
forefinger.  “What do you think, Scott?” he demanded, giving the little girl’s
arm a squeeze.  “Show him your Popeye muscle, Mag.”

Maggie
flexed, looking up at Scott expectantly.  Over her head, Joe shot him a warning
glance.

Dimples
looking like they were about to burst, Scott managed, “Soon you’ll be picking
fights like a pro, Maggie.”

“I
don’t like to fight,” Maggie said, deflating.

“Then
you’re in the wrong place, stupid,” Monk said.  “We’re gonna be
soldiers.
”

Looking
at her excited face, Joe doubted Monk knew what a soldier was.  None of them
did.  Because they were
kids
and they should be playing jacks and
chasing butterflies and building tree-forts, not trapped on an alien ship,
learning about war.

Once
again, as one of the only ones in the whole room who truly understood what the
aliens had in store for them, Joe felt the weight of responsibility suffocating
him.

  As
his five groundmates argued the merits of soldiering, Joe suddenly felt
ancient—an old man in a room full of children.  This wasn’t fair.  They were
just
kids
.  He wanted to run up to someone who would listen and scream
at them that this wasn’t supposed to happen to
kids
.

A few
minutes later, everyone’s heads snapped around when Commander Tril suddenly
shouted, “Now you’ve eaten, get out!  Head back to the gym!  Run!”

Joe
snatched up Maggie and they ran.  Back in Battlemaster Nebil’s care, they
joined the exhausted, sweaty-faced losers for three hours of physical exercise. 
By the time Nebil was finished with them and sent them back to their barracks
room, the entire platoon looked like zombies, and everyone was too tired to
cry.

CHAPTER
5:
Early Balding

“You
should have let me kill him.”

The
officers’ hall fell silent at his words.  Everyone had taken off the hated
translation devices and had been engaged in the first real Ooreiki conversation
they’d managed to enjoy since the choosing process began.  Now they waited,
every sudah fluttering in silent anticipation of Kihgl’s next words.

Very
slowly, Kihgl put down his meal and wiped his mouth.  “Kill who, Commander
Tril?” he asked, taking entirely too long to look up at him.  Almost as if he
were bored.

Tril
scowled at his superior.  Kihgl was a soot-loving furg.  The bureaucrats had
given him too much credit for his battle record.  Anyone who looked him in the sudah
could see he wasn’t worthy of a brigade.

“You
said yourself Lagrah planned on killing him,” Tril continued.  “Why else take
him onto the ship?  He’s too old for our needs.  The food is designed for
younger recruits.  It will wreak havoc on his system.  Why spare him?” 

“I
changed my mind, Small Commander Tril,” Kihgl said in that same, even,
unhurried tone.  “It is not your place to question me.”

Hearing
that, from a vkala still bearing the scars of his shame, made Tril’s sudah
speed up in anger.  “Just as it wasn’t your place to defy Lagrah?” he demanded,
knowing that, as a
yeeri
, Tril’s position would be heard amongst the
other castes.

No one,
however, raised a voice to support him.  In fact, if anything, the others in
the room seemed to be glaring at him.  Commander Linin was carefully picking at
his plate, looking like he wanted to sink out of sight.  He could feel
Battlemaster Nebil’s ancient eyes on him, filled with disdain.  His skin
prickling, Tril ignored the aging Ooreiki.  The furg had been a Prime Commander
several times, only to keep getting repeatedly demoted to battlemaster just as
soon as he gained a regiment of his own.  Incompetents and jenfurglings.  He
was
surrounded
by them.