Peace Warrior (13 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

They entered the darkness slowly, hesitantly. Grant felt his way forward. He balanced on the balls of his feet and waited for his eyes to adjust. Unlike the four previous squares, this one was unlit. The only illumination came from the doorway they had just entered and a pale light that shined in the distance. The fact that this square was different from the others, coupled with the ease with which they had been granted entry, set off alarms in Grant's head. He was an experienced soldier. One trained to detect slight changes in routine and not-so-routine patterns. His entire being shouted 'danger'.

He suddenly remembered Avery's ability to see in the darkness.

"Mouse," he whispered to the large black man. "Can you see anything?"

"Nothing but that light in the distance," Mouse whispered back from three feet away. The words surprised Grant. He had not realized the other man was so close.

"That's what I was afraid of," Grant replied. He moved toward the light, alert for any smell, sound or movement.

Grant searched the blackness around them as they made their way through the corridor of the Inner Square. He heard rustling and turned to face the sound.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The communicator beneath his belt went off. The tin beeping of the device echoed like thunder in the stillness and Grant fumbled to quiet the sound. The beeping had surely given away their location. He found the button to silence the incoming signal. As he pushed it --

-- light flooded the three figures.

The harsh white light blasted his eyes and Grant lashed out blindly with the staff. Nothing but air.

“Nice trap,” Grant had time to think before being slammed brutally to the ground. He fought against the weight holding him down but could not move. Struggles and curses behind him. He had no doubt Mouse and Sue were similarly captured.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered.

"Shut up," a voice spoke from beyond the light. "You will not speak unless told to do so."

Grant was in no position to argue.

* * *

They were marched through the Inner Square corridor by eighteen men. They were boxed in – four guards ahead, four behind and five on each side. All were armed with pikes or swords. And most were pointed at them. The guards did not tie their hands or bind them in any manner but Grant did not fight or struggle. There were too
many. And he suspected they were taking him where he wanted to go.

His eyesight returned to normal. Grant took in everything they passed and filed it away for future reference. They passed men, women and children. All seemed amused at the trio being led through the corridor. Many of the women and children threw garbage and stones. Grant ignored the garbage and did his best to dodge the larger stones. Grant opened his mouth to ask their destination and was immediately jabbed in the ribs by one of the guards. The men who escorted them were alert and well trained.

The women were more attractive and better fed than in the outer squares. Sue also noticed. She stared at the women with suspicion and envy written upon her features. There was obviously no love lost between the women here and those in the outer squares. The pecking order appeared to be based strictly on appearance.

Sue also bore the brunt of the taunts and jeers. To her credit, she ignored the words and dodged most of the trash that was thrown. Grant was proud to be in her company. He doubted if many of the women who wielded the garbage and hostile threats would have held up so bravely.

Most of the male prisoners they passed were actively engaged in some type of fighting, sparring or exercising. Grant sensed an army in training. Grant was reflecting on this when the procession turned into a large stone chamber off the main corridor.

A raised stage made up the far end of the chamber. It was two feet high and, on the platform, stood a man. He was easily seven feet tall and massively built. Shoulder length brown hair, pulled into a pony tail. He wore pants and boots, but no shirt. His muscles rippled and flexed as the group approached.

"Titan," Grant said beneath his breath.

The dais increased the man's presence; his sense of height. Grant knew the position was an affected one, chosen for its effect on the visitors to the chamber. The knowledge did little to diminish the man’s true size, however. This man deserved the name, Titan.

"Kneel, strangers," they were told by one of the guards. Mouse and Sue immediately dropped to their knees. Grant remained standing.

"I said kneel!" the guard shouted. The end of his spiked bar stabbed into Grant's kidney. He meant business.

Grant staggered. The pain bit, but he did not kneel. Instead, he turned his head and spat at the guard. The incensed guard jabbed the sharpened steel for a second blow. Grant sidestepped the weapon, flashed forward and sent his boot into the man's solar plexus. The guard flew backward, dropped like a swatted fly.

Four of the man's comrades moved toward Grant but a deep voice, resonant with authority, halted the movements with a single word, "ENOUGH!"

Grant faced the four attackers and, seeing them back down, turned to face Titan.

"I’m not kneeling to anyone, pal."

Titan seemed amused by Grant’s defiance.

“You may be a fool, little man, but you do not lack courage." Titan stepped from the dais and Grant sized him up. Titan had superior strength and size. No doubt about that. The giant would likely view him as an overmatched opponent. If they fought, it would be the intangibles that made the difference. Speed, cunning, fighting skill. And his newly improved body. Grant was more than ready.

"Bubba, I ain’t kneeling. And I’m no man's fool."

Titan's eyes widened slightly at the stranger's affront but he held his anger.

"Who are you? And why have you been looking for me?"

Grant was surprised, but saw how information might travel quickly in an environment like Violent's Prison. There were no distractions from the outside world and anyone with information would surely try to parlay such information into a favor. It was obvious that his rapid journey to the Inner Square had been noticed and communicated to Titan.

Grant had every intention of telling his story to Titan. It was the sole reason for his being here: to enlist Titan into the fight against the Minith. However, Grant had a rule when bargaining with an opponent – never give up anything unless you get something in return.

"How did you know I was searching for you?"

Grant's question was met with a blast of laughter from the giant.

"Ah, little man, who are you, eh? You say you are no man's fool but you act like one at every opportunity. I asked you a question and you answer it with one of your own! If that is not the act of a fool then you must be a powerful fighter.

"And outside of these walls, there are no fighters. Only inside the walls of Violent's Prison do real men live and die.” Titan waved his hand at the stone walls that surrounded them. “Outside... outside there are only cowards who live with their heads hidden beneath the coverlets of their comfortable beds. Men who believe in the lie that they call 'Peace.'

"Are you one of those, little man? Or are you a fighter as your talk and your actions would have me believe?"

Grant ignored Titan’s question and repeated his own. He had an agenda and it did not include Titan being amused.

"I asked you once. I don’t want to ask you again. How did you know I was searching for you?"

The mirth left Titan’s face. He stepped closer, now only six feet away. He glared down, his face flushed with anger. Grant felt a sliver of satisfaction. Piss a guy off and you’ve got an edge. Piss off a big guy and you eliminate a little of the advantage of his size and muscle. The more they fight with their emotion and not with their heads, the better your odds.

"Alright," Titan whispered. His tone promised violence. His eyes promised carnage. His tightly clenched hands promised a savage beating. "I was told. It is that simple, little man. So I had a surprise waiting for you. And here you are."

Good. Good. Time to poke the bull a little further.

"Very good." Grant added a hint of humor to his words. "Now, what was it you wanted to know, you dimwit? I forgot."

The huge man charged. His face a twisted mask of rage and fierceness. Grant sidestepped. Crouched. Pushed his left leg out. Swept his right leg behind. The slap of head on the hard floor resounded.

Cries of disbelief and anger arose from the guards who rushed forward. Mouse met the rush and dropped the first three. The fourth caught him across the face with a swing of his mace. Mouse dropped. The remaining guards turned toward Grant but were stopped by a shout.

Titan had regained his feet. Blood dripped from his forehead. He was smiling coldly at Grant.

"He belongs to me."

"Sorry, Bubba," Grant answered calmly. "I belong to no man.”

"You soon will, little man. Soon, you will belong to me and I will make your life miserable."

Grant countered with another taunt.

"We'll see who belongs to who, Bubba," he teased.

Titan motioned for one of his men to throw him a sword. He caught the blade carefully on the grip. He advanced, carefully this time.

"Choose your weapon," Titan growled.

"I won't need one." Grant was pushing Titan. Perhaps farther than he should. Here he stood, facing a giant with a sword, and refusing a weapon of his own. It must have appeared lunacy to those who watched, but Grant had little experience with maces, swords or pikes. His weapons were rifles, grenades, hands and feet. He decided to rely on the hands and feet that Tane had given him. Better than his own, Tane had said. Well, time to find out how good they really were.

Grant spread his legs. Balanced his weight on the balls of his feet. He was well trained in several martial arts. He wondered briefly if those arts had died along with the rest of his ancient warrior brothers. If so, this would be the first lesson for his new warrior brothers. The martial arts were as much a mental effort as a physical one. His mental abilities were well honed, he knew, from six hundred years of cerebral exercise. He had gone through the movements of the arts countless times during his endless state of suspended animation. He hoped the mental exercises would benefit him now.

Grant breathed deeply and watched silently. He settled into a zone – his concentration deepening as Titan circled left. Blood from the gash dripped into Titan’s right eye and he wiped it away. That was in Grant’s favor. The blade sliced the air, weaving a hypnotic pattern. The man was good with the weapon. That was in Titan’s favor.

Grant circled right. He looked for an opening. Saw none. Gave Titan one instead. Titan reacted and Grant narrowly dodged the sharp blade. The giant was quick and Grant filed the reaction away for later use.

"Take a weapon, little fool," Titan advised.

Grant ignored the words and feigned a kick. The move was meant to appear clumsy and unskilled and Titan fell for it. The slash found air – Grant's leg no longer where it was supposed to be. Grant stepped inside the swing, pivoted and landed a roundhouse kick to Titan’s head. The larger man staggered. Regained his balance and staggered again as another boot smacked his right side.

Grant knew the kick did damage – bruised ribs at a minimum. Titan roared. Swung the blade wildly at Grant. The parry sliced his right arm. Drew blood. Grant saw an opportunity. He winced and cradled the wounded limb to his body.

Titan howled with delight. The giant raised the blade above his head. His eyes blazed. His voice roared in triumph. Grant had no doubt the other man would put all of his power into the swing. Grant waited. Watched.

The blow never had a chance. At the apex of the swing, Grant drove his left foot forward. The impact of his foot to the larger man's solar plexus echoed around the chamber. The blade left Titan’s hand and he was thrown backwards. He landed in a heap atop the raised platform. Unmoving.

Grant spun towards the guards, prepared to defend himself from another attack. They did not move on him. He had defeated their leader, therefore they were also defeated.

Grant nodded to one of them and then pointed to Titan, who still had not moved. "See if he is alright."

The man moved without hesitation.

"He's still alive!" the man reported. Grant sighed with relief. He did not want to kill the man. He needed his help.

"Grant, that leg is going to kill somebody one of these days," Mouse exclaimed. Grant looked over at his friend. Blood dripped from a split lip and his nose was starting to swell. Otherwise, he seemed unfazed.

Grant flexed his legs. Gave them renewed respect. Tane had done well. He would have to thank him when he saw him again.

He remembered the call that had come in on the communicator just before they had been captured. Wondered who would be contacting him and why. It was agreed that no calls would be transmitted to Grant while he was in
the prison. Only outgoing calls would be permitted. Only one thing could be behind the transmission – the Minith.

Grant retrieved the communicator from one of the guards. His guards now.

"No, Mouse. I won't kill
someone
with these legs. But I sure as hell will kill some
thing
."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Grant called to the hospital on the tiny communicator. Tane answered his signal almost immediately. His voice held an edge and Grant knew something very important was going on out in the real world.

"Sorry it took so long. What's going on, Tane?"

"It is bad, Grant. The Leadership council has ordered us to return Avery to the Minith!"

"They what? Are they insane? We can't do that!" Grant spoke from two points of view. One wanted Avery kept from the Minith for security reasons, if she told them what she knew about their plans, they were as good as finished in their fight. The other point was more personal.

"I'm sorry, Grant. I tried to stop them, but..."

"You mean she's already gone, Tane? They've taken her back to the Minith?" Grant could not believe the idiocy of the Leadership Council. Avery knew what they planned. She knew about Violent’s Prison. She knew about Grant.

"Grant, the Minith threatened to destroy more of our farms if she was not returned. They have already destroyed three as retribution against your attack on their Mother Ship."

“I didn't attack their ship, Tane. I merely defended myself against two of their guards." It was a weak argument. He
had
attacked the ship and the guards. But he was angry. Avery's face flooded his mind and clouded his thoughts.

"Grant, what do we do now?"

Grant struggled to clear his mind -- to think rationally. He rushed through the possibilities, searched for the right course of action, one that could save Avery and their fight against the Minith. He quickly settled on perhaps the only one that could accomplish both and whirled into action.

"Tane, arrange a pick up at the Outer Square where you dropped me. Get here as soon as you can. There will be two additional passengers."

"But, Grant...won't that be dangerous? I mean, we will have to land.”

Carriers never landed inside the prison. They hovered long enough to toss out their cargo, then flew away as quickly as possible. Getting a pilot to land would take some doing.

"Don't worry about the prisoners, Tane. I'll take care of them. Just convince the pilot there’s nothing to worry about."

"I'll pilot it myself, Grant." Grant wanted to hug the brave little scientist. Tane would come through.

"Get here as soon as you can. If I'm not waiting when you arrive over fly the area. Do not land until you see me personally."

Across the room, Titan stirred, sat up slowly. He wiped a stream of blood from his face. Grant wondered if he would be a problem.

“Hey, gotta go. Something’s come up that I need to deal with.”

"Good luck, Grant," the scientist added. The communication link dissolved.

* * *

Titan shook his head to clear it and looked about the room. His eyes settled on Grant and he slowly rose to his feet, the gaze unwavering and steady. Grant steeled his stance, ready for another attack.

Instead of violence, he was met with a fierce smile. The giant shook his head and stepped forward, his body still as ominous in size but less intense in its overbearing presence.

“No, Stranger, I have met a valiant opponent and desire no further violence with you.” Titan held his arms in front of his body, his hands turned palm upward.

“I defer to your superiority as a fighter.”

The guards passed a collective gasp at the large man’s words and actions; they had obviously never expected this man to be in such a position. Grant was moved by the other man’s action and stepped toward Titan’s outstretched arms. He reached out his right hand and grasped Titan’s hand firmly.

“Titan, where I’m from, this is how fellow warriors show respect when they meet.”

The two shook hands for a moment and released the hold. The smile on Titan’s face changed to a grin. It was going to be okay. Grant had made a respected acquaintance, if not a friend.

“You are indeed a mighty warrior.”

“I am a warrior at your service, then, stranger. It is the way of this place.”

Grant understood well enough how this place called Violent’s Prison operated. He was now in charge of the Inner Square and, as a result, the entire prison. He had not set out to conquer the leader of this square, the man named Titan. He had only wanted to enlist the man’s services and those of his lesser warriors in the cause against the Minith. Nevertheless, the fight had been pressed and he had escaped as the victor. Now, he held the allegiances he desired. And he was not unwilling to use them in the success of his plan.

“I’m honored, Titan. I… No, not I, but the world. We need your services.” Grant waved at the men assembled in the chamber. “Indeed, we need all of your services.”

Mouse smiled and stepped forward from the back of the room where he and Sue had retreated.

“Men, you are not going to believe what this man has in store for us,” he joked. “It is difficult to believe. But apparently the Leadership Council has approved it.”

“What do you need from us, Stranger,” one of the guards asked.

Grant saw no need to withhold anything from them.

“My name is Grant Justice. And we are going to drive the aliens from the planet.”

“Do not play with us, Stranger.” Titan’s words were hushed but clear. He closed the distance between them. “I will quickly take up my weapon against you once again if you joke with us. I have no patience for pranks.”

Grant wondered how the Minith had hurt this man so horribly to make him act in such a manner. He put a hand on the larger man’s shoulder.

“No joke, Titan. I’ve come here to recruit warriors.” Grant paused. Searched the faces around him. “Are you with me?”

Titan snaked Grant into his embrace, lifted him from the ground and hugged. Grant gasped for air as the crowd cheered and whooped.