Zero Recall by Sara King Page B

“Do the job, Jer’ait.  This is more important than all your other
targets combined.  Do not allow your pride to cloud your sense.”
    Jer’ait cut the
feed and glared at his target.
    He would wait,
he decided, for the Human to be too intoxicated to run. 
    The Human was
halfway through his seventh drink when Jer’ait’s hard grip on his neck made him
stiffen.  Jer’ait extruded several drops of a potent interrogation drug into
his victim, then sat down beside him.
    “Let’s try this
again,” Jer’ait said. 
    The Human’s dark
brown eyes registered surprise but he made no move to speak, even though they
both knew he could.
    Jer’ait ordered
a drink from the bartender and casually took a sip as he eyed the Human.  “My
name is Be’shaar,” Jer’ait said.  “As you probably already guessed, I am a
Huouyt.  I am also Va’ga-trained.  Do you know what this means?”
    “It means you
know how to square dance,” the Human slurred.
    “Oh yes,”
Jer’ait said, “I’m very good at square dancing.”
    The Human peered
at him.  “How good?”
    Jer’ait set his
drink down and, leaning forward so he could stare into the Human’s brown eyes,
said, “The very best.”
    “You’re working
for my brother,” the Human whispered.
    Jer’ait frowned
at the Human.  “You must have interesting family ties, my friend.  What makes
you think your brother could afford me?”
    “So you’re not
working for my brother?”
    “I didn’t say
that.”
    “So who are you
working for?”
    Jer’ait began to
get irritated.  “I didn’t say I wasn’t under your brother’s employ.”
    “Yes you did. 
So who are you working for?”
    Jer’ait watched the Human
for several long moments, then retrieved his drink from the bar and took a sip,
observing him over the glass.  “I can see why so many people find you
troublesome.”
    The Human’s
mouth fell open.  “ Maggie sent you?”
    Calmly, Jer’ait said,
“Either you are doing me an injustice by suggesting a creature like you could
have enemies powerful enough to pay me for your death, or you have a very
unhealthy ego.”
    The Human
watched Jer’ait watch him, becoming increasingly confused.  “Maggie didn’t send
you.”
    “I never said
that,” Jer’ait said, rankling.
    “Yes you did.”
    You’re in
charge here, fool, Jer’ait reminded himself.  Act like it.   Jer’ait
thumbed the whiskey glass, gathering up his composure.  When he was ready, he
met the Human’s eyes once more.  “Tell me more about yourself, Joe.”
    “I’m eighty-one
Earth years, being assassinated, and rapidly losing my buzz.”  Joe glanced at
the bartender.
    “He can’t help
you,” Jer’ait said.
    Joe gave Jer’ait
an irritated look.  “I need another drink.”
    That surprised him.  Like being paralyzed meant absolutely nothing to the Human.  Then
again, Jer’ait thought, if he survived Eeloir, he is probably accustomed
to such things.  “You want to get back to poisoning yourself.” 
    “Sounds like so
much more fun when you put it that way.”
    Jer’ait set his
drink on the bar and leaned forward.  “I know you’ve had experiences with my
kind before, on Eeloir.  Therefore, you know exactly what kinds of horrible
things I can do to you, should you piss me off.  I’d think very carefully about
your answers from now on, Human.  Each one may be your last.”
    “Good, this
interview is boring me anyway.”
    Jer’ait had to
resist the impulse to inject something more potent—something more painful —into
the irritating Human’s system.  Instead, he allowed no reaction to the Human’s
sarcasm and said, “You ran from Congress.  What did you think we were going to
do?”
    “Give up,” Joe
said.  “Sign a few warrants, seize my assets, forget you ever tried to recall
me.”
    And normally,
Jer’ait realized, that would have been the case.  Trying a new tactic, he said,
“Why did you run?”
    The Human
laughed.  “’Cause God hates a