Peace Warrior (7 page)

"Then you must train us to be soldiers, Sergeant Grant Justice."

"Soldiers? You get offended when I say 'shit' or 'hell.' How am I supposed to train you to be a fighting force when I can't even say what’s on my mind? Damn, Tane, profanity is the fucking language of soldiers!" Tane winced at each of Grant's profanities, involuntarily driving the man's point home.

"I know, Grant, but there must be a way."

The scientist dropped wearily into the room’s only chair and put his head in his hands. "We have to think of a way."

"Look, Tane, you let me know if you think of anything, alright?" Grant was finished with the discussion, unable to consider the possibility of fighting off an alien invasion when he could not even make it to the bathroom without crawling. Hell, when he was alive, aliens were just a concept carried forward by crazies, or cinematic fodder for cheap movies.

"Right now, I want to work on getting my body back in shape. Maybe if I can learn to walk again I'll be able to think about the Minith. But not now, Tane. Not now."

Tane nodded and walked quietly to the door, his shoulders heavy with the possibility that Grant could not help them. "You know, Grant," he said, turning to look at the warrior. "I may be able to help you get on your feet sooner. If you do not mind some pain."

"Doc, right now, pain would be a welcome relief. I'm so numb I can't even feel my cock. And that’s not a good feeling, I assure you."

"Very well, then. I will return shortly with some medication to eliminate the numbness. Eventually, you may be able to control the nerve endings in your arms and legs at will, so that you can feel or not feel your limbs as you wish."

“What do you mean?”

“If our work went as planned, you should be able to feel pain or turn it off, as you wish.”

“Okay…” Grant could not foresee a use for the ability. He had always been keenly aware of his body and could not anticipate the desire not to feel any part of it. He suspected the ability was just another feather in the scientist's cap and thought nothing more about it. He did have a question for the man concerning his 'rehabilitation' and asked, "Tane, why didn't you give me a second set of eye lids? It seems like something you would have done while I was being 'rebuilt."

"Oh, I considered it, but your face does not have the necessary muscles to control the second set and they would not have worked. Also, your brain would not have recognized them, much the same as it does not recognize your new arms and legs yet. That is why you cannot use them as you would like just now.”

"So, I have to learn how to do everything all over again, huh? Walk, fight, run?"

"Not exactly, Grant. Your brain already knows how to do those things, it just needs time to adjust to your new limbs. The signals are being forwarded to your old limbs that were slightly different in size and shape. Your brain simply needs time to recognize the limbs you now possess. It is not a re-learning process, but a readjustment to a process already learned. It should go quickly."

"That's easy for you to say, Doc. I'm the one who can't go to the bathroom."

Tane smiled. "I'll send someone in with food soon."

"Great! I haven't eaten in...what? Over six hundred years!"

CHAPTER SIX

A week after Grant's revival, Tane was summoned to Mr. Blue's quarters to provide an update on the ancient soldier’s status. He entered the over-large suite of three rooms with some trepidation. He disliked the large man intensely, yet he needed his assistance and cooperation in relaying the progress of his mission to the Leadership Council. What the Council saw in Blue, Tane had no idea, and he was unsure of how to act toward the other man whom he found resting on one of the couches that filled the primary room of the suite. The posturing of the obese administrator was apparent and Tane had to repeat one of his personal Peace mantras to maintain his diplomacy and tact.

Although Mr. Blue's position as Administrator of the facility accorded him the uncommon luxury of three rooms of living space, Tane Rolan blanched at the waste. Living space was in extremely short supply, especially larger spaces, and Mr. Blue was not even married. Tane knew there were thousands of families living within a mile's radius from the hospital who were existing in tiny, one-room shelters. The waiting list for larger housing was interminable. Tane, although permitted similar quarters as Mr. Blue by virtue of his scientific standing, held only a small one room apartment. His desire for a larger apartment was inconsequential compared to the needs of others.

Tane ignored the familiar sense of disquiet he felt at Mr. Blue's wastefulness. It was the man's legal right and he had other matters that required his immediate attention. Not the least of those was in convincing Mr. Blue that significant headway was being made by the project.

"Good day, Blue," Tane greeted the other man. He often ignored the man's title of 'Mr.' on purpose, a soft form of rebuke and one not overlooked by the other man, he knew. It was silly to do so now that he needed the man's backing and support, but the premium apartment and all of its wasted space made him angry. Besides, as Senior Scientist, he was not formally bound by culture-tradition to address the man by his title. They were equals.

"How goes the work, Rolan?" Blue asked, countering with a similar omission of title. Blue knew the other man's own quarters were a third the size of his own. He did not know it was at Tane’s choosing.

“It goes well. Better even than I had hoped. The man has extreme intelligence and an incredible amount of determination. I have never seen a man so driven to learn so much. "

"Oh? And what has this man learned thus far?" Blue stressed the word 'man' as though to express his doubts about Grant's claim to the description. "It is only a week after all, Tane."

"Yes, only a week. But in that week he has learned to use his new body, almost to the level of his former ability, or so he says."

"So. He has learned to walk again, eh? That does not seem like so large an accomplishment."

"Not only to walk, Blue. He has learned much more. I would have estimated his recovery to take months whereas he has improved to a remarkable level in only a week. And what is even more significant, he elected to do so through great pain." Tane waited for Blue to comprehend the words, but the man only looked at him with a blank stare. He explained. "He was given the ability to block out pain, all pain if he so desired. He chose not to do so, and I tell you this – there was an incredible amount of pain for Grant Justice over the past week."

"So? He has a high tolerance to pain. I have heard of this phenomenon before. It happens quite often, I am told, in Violent's Prison. The fights, you know."

Tane became exasperated. "In Violent's Prison they do not have the ability to block the pain! Grant Justice has the ability but chooses not to use it. That says a great deal for the man, Blue. I am not so sure you or I could do what he has done."

"Perhaps, Rolan, perhaps. Do not get out of Peace over this, my senior scientist. A high tolerance for pain is remarkable, I grant you, but not without precedence."

The scientist shook his head, unable to express his feelings of respect for the man he had helped rebuild. This pompous bureaucrat would never understand the soldier's mentality. He tried a different tack. One that he believed would impress even Blue.

"That is not all, Blue. He has learned more."

"What else?" Blue asked, yawning with feigned boredom. He inspected his nails in the quiet light of the room.

"He has been subjected to the information-transference educator, Blue." Tane referred to the rarely used education device that was still in the experimental stages. The device used subconscious transmissions and prompts to implant large volumes of detailed information directly to an individual's consciousness in a short amount of time. Due to the short supply of the devices, they were normally reserved for individuals who displayed an above average intelligence. It was decided that the device would be tried on Grant to test his ability to learn and retain data.

"Yes, so? We have agreed that they should be tried on him, even though I do not believe he will be capable of understanding anything through the process. What is there to report?"

Tane Rolan smiled. "He has shown a remarkable...uh, aptitude, Blue."

"You mean the heathen has benefited from the lessons?" Blue raised his eyebrows at this. Tane knew the administrator considered Justice an uneducated gladiator, revived for the single purpose of fighting the Minith. He had probably never considered the man might possess any significant degree of intelligence.

"When I last visited him this morning, he had worked his way through six different languages." He watched the other man carefully for his reaction and was rewarded with the sight of Blue, all four hundred pounds of him, nearly falling from his perch on the couch.

"Six? You must be mistaken!" Blue managed to right himself, but his mouth hung ajar as he studied the scientist's face for any sign of mistruth.

"Yes, Blue. Six." Tane felt a sense of pride that his 'experiment' now knew more languages than most humans alive. "I started him out with Standard, of course, and he picked it up like a native Urop'n. So naturally, I began with other Lat'n-based languages."

"But how is this possible? The man is only a warrior. He is no linguist!"

"I have discussed the subject with Grant, himself, and I believe he is correct in his theory about this. He was frozen for six hundred years, Blue. Six hundred years!"

"I am aware of that! What is the explanation?"

"It seems that for those six hundred years our soldier was able to recall, in exquisite detail from what I can determine, the memories of his life. In fact, those memories were his only exercise. He could do nothing else but think and remember, Blue. Imagine! Six hundred years with nothing but your past to keep you occupied! It's a wonder the man is not insane.”

Tane’s voice raced with excitement. The experiment was a much greater success than he ever could have hoped. He took a deep breath to retain Peace and continued.

"I believe that Grant Justice has expanded his abilities of retention far beyond those of a normal human. In effect, he has exercised his mind for over six hundred years and is using that mind to learn more than we could have believed possible. Even Grant, himself, is surprised at his ability to recall the information contained on the transference tapes."

"But six languages?"

"And still counting, Blue."

"Remarkable, remarkable. I must inform the Council of this right away. When can you bring Justice here, Rolan? I would like to see this man again." Blue hesitated, clearly remembering his first meeting with Grant Justice only a week before. "He can be trusted to be at Peace, can he not, Rolan?"

"Yes, Blue. Certainly," Tane said, not quite certain of the fact at all.

* * *

Grant lifted the two hundred and ten pounds over his head, completing the tenth repetition of his final set of bench presses. He felt good about his workout, he was almost to his 'pre-revival' abilities with the weights. He suddenly considered that this new body might not be as bad as he first thought.

His workout was halted by the sight of Tane Rolan entering the room. The scientist entered Grant's 'gym' with some unease, his unfamiliarity with the steel bars and plates showed clearly on his face.

Grant had requested that the room be furnished with the free weights and, after several attempts at describing exactly what he wanted, Tane had the equipment fabricated. His initial reaction to Grant's desire to increase the strength in his body was to give him a muscle enhancement drug, but Grant emphatically discounted the suggestion. He had seen enough steroid use as a soldier to put him off the idea of chemically induced muscles forever. The use of steroids in the Democratic Federation Army was completely legal, and often encouraged by those in charge. The army wanted its soldiers to be as fully developed as possible and the risks involved, although great, were generally accepted by the brass. What were a few tragedies when the army as a whole benefited from the successes? Grant personally knew of several soldiers who ended up crippled because of their massive use of chemicals and, upon taking over his own team, immediately denied the use of steroids to any of his men. Instead, he encouraged natural body development and had implemented an intense regimen of lifting weights, aerobics, and running for his team. He attributed much of his team's success to the physical training they had undertaken.

"Tane, how are you?" Grant asked in an obscure As'n dialect, the latest addition to the growing library of languages he held in his head. He still found the ability to switch languages at will – he now knew nine – exhilarating. He found the ability to switch from one language to the next about as difficult as changing his shoes. When he wanted a different language, he merely stepped into the closet of his mind and tried one on. It was that easy. And so far he had not run out of closet space.

The actual transfer of the languages lasted only sixty to ninety minutes depending on each one's complexity. The information-transference educator was placed over his head and the patterns, words and structures of each language were electro-aurically implanted onto his brain. At least that's how Tane had described it to him.

A quick and painless process, Grant had also undergone historical and socio-economic educational sessions with the machine. He now had a unique grasp of the current state of the earth and everything of note that had occurred since his previous life. He now held a better understanding of what was expected of him and why he had been revived by the Leadership Council and Tane Rolan. The reason was simple: the Minith would suck the world dry of all its natural resources within a few generations if they were not stopped.

"Very well, Grant," Tane answered. The dialect Grant spoke was one of the seven that he himself possessed. "How are you?" he asked in an even more obscure Afc’n tongue.

Grant looked at him quizzically, then answered in Standard with a laugh. "You got me on that one, Tane, but from the inflection and the similarities to the major Afc’n culture Language, I'd say you were asking how I was. If so, then I'm fine. The workout's going just great."

"Very good," Tane switched to Standard, also. "How do you feel?"

Grant was dressed in shorts and a shirt he had ripped into a passable counterfeit of a tank top. His body was covered in sweat. "I feel great, Tane. Haven't felt this good in six centuries or so, you know?”

“It’s good to see you still possess a sense of humor, Grant.”

“I’d be going bat shit without it, my good scientist. Absolute bat shit!"

Tane nodded, but it was clear to Grant that he had no idea what he was talking about. Grant did not feel like explaining the term “bat shit” and, instead of asking, the scientist changed the subject.

"Have you thought any more about the Minith, Grant?"

Grant smiled. The scientist's ability to change the course of a conversation to a serious topic never took more than two or three exchanges. It was easy to see how the man had reached the level of Senior Scientist at such a young age. Grant realized from his sessions with the transference machine that Tane was an exception to the rule in this world he had found himself in. He found his respect for the small man growing by leaps and bounds with each passing day.

"Yes, I have, Tane."

"And what have you been thinking?"

Grant was not prepared to discuss his thoughts in detail until he worked out all the kinks, a habit he had acquired while in the Army. He liked to study all aspects of a plan before deciding on the final details. Too many times he had witnessed the outlines of a plan become the plan itself when divulged to those in a decision making capacity.

"Not just yet, Tane. Let me give it some more thought, and I'll let you know as soon as I can. I promise."

“Hmm. I have no choice but to trust your judgment, I suppose. Is there anything I can do to assist you with your work, Grant?"

Grant gave the matter some thought before answering. Finally, he nodded and said, "I'll need two things, Tane. First, I want everything you can get me on Violent's Prison. And I mean everything; blueprints, lists of prisoners, the crimes they committed, everything."

"What? How could anything to do with Violent's Prison be of benefit? Only criminals are sent there, persons not fit for society. I don't see how--"

"Tane!" Grant interrupted. "Can you get me anything, or not?"

"Well, certainly, but I don't--"

"Tane, don't ask me to explain. You probably wouldn't like what I'd say anyway."

"Okay, Grant. As you wish. But if Mr. Blue hears of this, he may not permit it. He dislikes even the thought of violence. If he had his way, we'd all stay slaves forever. I believe he would prefer that over any form of violence – even violence that is directed toward the Minith."

"So, don't let him find out."

"Fine. And what is the second thing I can help you with?" Tane was almost afraid to ask, considering Grant's first request.

"I need a lesson on the Minith Language."

A look of horror crossed Tane's face. "Grant! It is forbidden! I can't... I mean... there isn't a lesson on the Minith! They would never allow it!"

"Oh, and I suppose they don't mind our plotting to get rid of them, huh? Think, Tane! You're better at that than anyone else I know. What could it hurt?"