Peace Warrior (16 page)

The rest of the Outer Square was empty. The men who had previously occupied it had gravitated toward the inner squares once the prohibitions against doing so had been eliminated. Now that the prisoners possessed a common enemy, they no longer had to commit violence upon each other. Their preparations against the aliens provided an effective outlet for any aggressions they felt.

Grant shook Tane gently. The scientist opened his eyes slowly and smiled when he recognized Grant.

"Grant. How are you," he asked wearily.

"Very well, thanks to you. Did you get what I asked for?" Tane smiled even wider and Grant knew the other man had been successful.

"Look inside."

He nodded toward the rear of the carrier and followed as Grant made his way around to the cargo doors. Grant opened the large compartment and looked in on several large metallic containers. He looked at Tane and laughed.

"Tane! My friend, you never cease to amaze me!" Grant hoisted his large frame into the vehicle and ran a hand over one of the containers. "Did you get everything?"

"Just about. What I couldn't get, I substituted for, but I think you'll be pleased!"

Tane was obviously pleased with his accomplishment and justifiably so, Grant thought. He took a deep breath, released the two latches on the first crate, and raised the lid. He gazed into the container and whistled. Mouse, his curiosity piqued stepped into the carrier and peered into the container.

"Damn! Grant, is all this for us?" His voice carried the excitement he felt at the contents of the container.

"Fuckin' eh, Mouse! Fuckin’ eh!"

Grant reached into the metal crate and removed one of the items from inside. He hefted it in his hands and caressed it like a long lost love. It was one of many in the crate; and exactly like the one that had taken his hands and feet from him over six hundred years before.

Like a deer catching wind of the hunter's scent, Grant remembered the previous night's dream and dropped the weapon like a red-hot poker. It clattered noisily and came to rest beside the others. He wiped his – not his really, he thought, but Tane's – hands on his pant leg but the unease left by the touch of the rifle remained.

"Oh, Grant. I almost forgot," Tane said, oblivious of Grant's sudden discomfort. "There was plenty of special ammunition available for these. I brought it along also."

"Really? What kind?" Grant asked, already knowing what answer he would get.

"The literature with it described it as 'explosive'. It's supposed to be the best for..." Tane swallowed the unease he felt. Violence was still an uneasy concept for him.

"...for killing," he finished.

Grant turned away from the weapons and left the interior of the carrier.

"That's great, Tane." Grant's voice died off and neither Tane nor Mouse heard his final words. "It's good for maiming, also."

Mouse and Tane were clamoring over the other boxes like children on Christmas morning as Grant walked away. He suddenly wanted to be with Avery and hoped she was not yet up.

He began the slow walk through the square, his mind once again drawn to the problem of regaining the initiative against the enemy. He marveled at the architecture of the prison as he walked and wondered at the men who had conceived this place. Without a doubt it was a marvel of stone and mortar, but the more Grant walked its halls the more convinced he became that the place was initially designed to be a castle or fort of some type. Whoever had turned it into this prison had used its strengths and eliminated its weaknesses. It was now the perfect prison.

He reached his room and found Avery still asleep. He lay down beside her and stretched. The bones and joints in his new limbs did not creak and pop as his old ones would have and he rued the loss briefly. Avery stirred but did not awaken and Grant rolled over to hug her. Her back was to him and he pulled her tightly to his body where she snuggled against him warmly. Grant, aroused by her closeness, became hard quickly and Avery could no longer sleep as his erection pressed against her back. She moaned softly and turned to face him.

"You left me," she mumbled sleepily as she reached down, grabbed his hardness.

"Yes. But I'm back now." The pleasure her hand created made him close his eyes and he kissed her deeply as his hand sought her breast.

"So I see," she managed between their urgent kisses.

"What else would--"

Grant bolted up into a sitting position so quickly, his head began to spin. "Grant? What's wro--"

"Shhh!," he interrupted. The revelation had come to him unexpectedly, like a bolt of lightning from a cloudless sky, and, except for the bad timing, he welcomed it without hesitation. He examined the idea for a few brief seconds before knowing that it was possible. He knew what they had to do.

"I'm sorry, Avery," he offered, unsure of how she would react. "I've got to go."

"You're leaving? Now?" she asked incredulously. Grant merely nodded an unseen apology and began to get dressed again.

"Is it what you've been struggling with these past few days?"

Grant looked at her and marveled once more at her ability to see to the heart of things.

"Yes. It is," he answered.

"Okay. I understand," she said, and Grant knew that she really did understand. "As long as it's not me that's driving you away," she added playfully.

"Never, Avery. Never." He knelt to kiss her goodbye and was quickly off to the Outer Square.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The Minith commander heard the muted sound of boots approaching and fumed at the guard's inability to approach his quarters in silence. The idiot's attempt at stealth failed miserably and Zal snarled. His soldiers had been pussyfooting around him since the human's attack on his ship and their efforts to keep out of his way only served to anger him further. The soldier stopped just outside his door and the Minith leader waited impatiently for the guard to find the courage to announce his presence. Finally, there was a soft tap on the door.

"Enter!" Zal commanded brusquely. The command seemed to shake the large purple room. The guard entered his commander's quarters, the shout ringing in his overlarge ears. He kept his eyes on the floor as he waited to be addressed.

"What do you want?"

"Sir, there is a message from General Brun," the large guard offered as he handed a folded sheet of paper to his commander. Zal saw that the message was printed on Priority One leaf and took it with some hesitation. He had no idea why his predecessor, who was now his superior, would transmit a priority message to him...unless word of the attack on the ship had somehow leaked out. He cursed the fact that he had not had sufficient time to seek out the spies Brun had undoubtedly left behind. He searched the messenger's countenance for an indication of the page's contents but the other showed no emotion other than the fear he had entered with.

He turned his back on the guard and read the message silently.

BEGIN PRIORITY ONE MESSAGE

ATTENTION
: COMMANDER OF MINITH FORCES, PLANET EARTH ZAL: THERE IS RUMOR OF REBELLION ON EARTH. I HAVE CONFIDENCE IN YOUR ABILITY TO RESOLVE THIS MINOR INCONVENIENCE. I WILL ARRIVE IN THREE DAYS TO OBSERVE. GEN BRUN

END PRIORITY ONE MESSAGE

If the idiot had confidence, why was he coming?
Zal crumpled the message angrily, thankful only for the fact that no one on earth other than he and this guard had seen the message. All Priority One messages were delivered directly by the operator on duty and no eyes other than the Commander’s were allowed to see it. Even with spies on board, this regulation would never be broken. Allegiance to a former superior was allowed and to communicate ongoing events to such an individual was not questioned, but to disobey a standing order or regulation was unheard of among the Minith posted to captured worlds.

“Forget you have seen this message,” Zal commanded, remembering the presence of his underling. The other nodded and, recognizing his dismissal, left his commander’s quarters.

Zal cursed beneath his breath. Brun had no confidence in his abilities to handle this weak uprising among these weak creatures.

“Well,” he muttered, “I’ll just have to have this settled before the fool arrives.” He summoned one of his personal guards, a soldier he knew he could trust. A few minutes later, a tap announced his visitor’s arrival and his leathered lips turned upward in a smile-like fashion. Unlike the messenger, he had not heard the other’s approach.

“Enter.”

Lieutenant Treel, the lieutenant who had been with him for blood sport at the human farm and who had been sent to “warn” the human Leadership Council entered the room and bowed.

“Sir,” he announced.

“Lieutenant,” Zal addressed quietly. “We have to stamp out the pests among the humans. Quickly.”

“Yes sir. My soldiers have been working on locating the beasts who dared to stand up to their masters.”

“And have you had any success?” Zal asked. He displayed none of the anticipation he felt to his subordinate. It would not be wise to show any fear or hesitation to one who was pledged to obey his orders.

The lieutenant wavered for a fraction of a second before answering and Zal knew before the words left his mouth what the other’s answer would be.

“Sir. We have been unsuccessful in locating them, however –“

“HOWEVER WHAT?!” Zal shouted. The shout resounded about the room causing the lieutenant to stagger backward a step. “Are we so incompetent that a few sheep can hide from us? How can that be, Lieutenant?”

“Sir,” the large Minith soldier offered weakly, “we are trying.”

“Well try harder! I want these sheep found within two days, Lieutenant. I don’t care how you do it, but do it!”

Zal trembled with rage. He was unused to the feeling of impotence that ran through him. To think that a few weak humans were trying to discredit him to his superiors and his warriors – and succeeding! It was more than any Minith, regardless of status, could tolerate.

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant bowed and began backing out of his commander’s presence.

“Lieutenant,” Zal said, interrupting the other Minith’s departure. The lieutenant stopped and looked expectantly at Zal.

“Sir?”

“Destroy ten more human farms.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And see if any of our human ‘friends’ have any knowledge of what their more courageous brethren are up to. It is unlikely that they will know anything, but we cannot overlook the possibility.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

The plan was put into motion and the time had come to play it to the end. The Outer Square was now crowded with people as the group of fifteen prisoner-soldiers prepared to leave.

"Everything's ready, Grant." Mouse said as he loaded the last pack into the large carrier vehicle and turned to face his friend. Tane, Sue and the others were already on the vehicle and ready to go. The excitement among the group was palpable. With the exception of Sue and Mouse, this was the first trip out of the prison for all of them since their initial arrival.

Grant hugged Avery a last time and turned to face Titan. The huge man, who had once controlled the entire prison, towered over the soldiers gathered in the Outer Square to see Grant and his party off.

"You know what to do." Grant said, the words not a question but a statement. Titan nodded.

"We will be fine, Grant. It's you and the others with you that I'm worried about."

Avery turned away from the group and walked away shaking her head. She had argued against Grant's plan, saying that it was suicide to return to the Minith ship.

Grant, knowing that Titan agreed with her, told the other man, “It’s the only way. We have to destroy the ship.”

“I know that, Grant, but let us do it together, in force.” Titan waved to the crowd gathered around them. They were well armed with the weapons Tane had brought and had been trained in their use. "We have an army to use."

"And we'll use it, Titan, I promise you. But we cannot fight them on their terms."

Grant did not want to get into the discussion again. They had already hashed this out and reached a decision. Fortunately, Titan did not press the subject again. He, like Grant, was probably tired of it.

"Very well, then," Titan sighed. "Good luck to you."

"Yeah, thanks. You too."

At a nod from Grant, Mouse started the carrier. The six-hundred year old soldier looked around the Square a final time at the army he had helped create and, with a wave to the men and women standing there, he entered the carrier and closed the hatch. Thirty seconds later, they lifted into the air above the prison.

Grant looked down. He saw Avery framed in the doorway to the First Square and waved. Either she did not see him or she was still angry, but she did not return his wave and he let the hand drop.

"Let's go, Mouse," he said and quickly turned his thinking towards what they had to do.

They traveled away from the prison barely ten feet off the ground and held that altitude until well away from the place. When the carrier was far enough away from the prison to prevent anyone who may have seen them from identifying the lone vehicle's point of origin, they rose to a normal altitude of a thousand feet and kept to it for nearly three hours. Then, when they neared their destination, they again dropped to a frighteningly low level and continued. A trip that could have been covered in just over an hour under top speed, took them almost five hours. The adrenalin they had felt upon leaving the prison, but that had waned during the flight, returned at full throttle when they finally touched down.

"Okay, folks," Grant pronounced, "this is where the fun starts. Everybody grab your pack and get out."

The group did as they were instructed and lined up outside the carrier. Most waited patiently for Grant to tell them what to do next. Several busied themselves with checking and rechecking their weapons and equipment, and Grant recognized the signs of nervousness. Most new troops entering their first combat situation acted this way. Some acted outwardly calm, others were nervously busy. All were uncomfortable.

He was not surprised by their reactions to the situation. Instead, he found the situation somehow soothing in its familiarity. He knew what was expected of him and did not hesitate. He gave no unnecessary commands, made no unnecessary speeches. He merely led.

“Tane, did you deliver the Council’s orders like we discussed?”

“I did, Grant.”

“And?”

“It went as well as you might expect. But there will be no problem. The orders will be followed.” Grant wished he could be as confident as the scientist. A key part of their plan was in someone else’s hands.

“Well, it can’t be helped now. Take the craft and find a location a few miles away. Make sure it can’t be seen from the air. Wait for us to signal you on the radio. When we do, we’re probably going to be in a hurry, so be ready.”

“Got it, Grant. I will be ready.” They shook hands and Tane returned to the pilot’s seat. A few minutes later, he and the carrier were traveling away. Ten feet off the ground.

"Mouse, take the rear. The rest of you, follow in single file. Don't get closer than five meters to the person ahead of you. And one more thing--" he said, hesitating to make sure everyone heard his next words clearly.

"Make as little noise as possible."

The men and women looked at each other knowingly. All were well aware of the Minith's superior hearing ability and their lives depended on not being heard. The implications were simple: they would be quiet, or they would die.

An hour later, Grant led them to a dry, narrow arroyo that he had spied on his previous hike to the Mothership. Though no more than ten feet across, the embankments on each side of the dry creek bed were almost six feet deep. The group scrambled down into the depression and, at a signal from Grant, sank quietly down.

Ahead of them, not a mile distant, sat the immense Minith ship. For most of them, this trip marked their first view of the ship, but for Grant, Mouse and Sue, it was a known, if not welcome, sight. Grant had briefed everyone earlier on what was expected of them when they reached this point and the group settled into the cover that the creek bed provided without a word. Unsure of how long they would be there, some tried to get comfortable. Most, however, were too wound up and Grant noticed with satisfaction that several were silently checking their weapons for any problems that might have occurred on the march. Grant crept to each of the others to provide assistance if needed. To everyone, he gave encouragement.

After making sure everyone else was in place and that no problems had arisen, Grant settled down also. He kept his pack on and, taking a seated position, leaned back against it. He looked toward the Minith ship, the top of the massive vehicle still visible from this distance and angle. Like the others, he wondered how long they would have to wait.

The waiting is the hardest part, Grant thought. He recalled the last mission with his team six hundred years ago. The one from which he had never returned. There was some similarity, he decided, looking around at the figures around him. Even after six hundred years, being a soldier still required a great deal of “hurry up and wait.” They had hurried to reach this site and now they waited for a sign to hurry on to their next destination, the alien ship.