Peace World (21 page)

But he did not know the history of Earth.

Had he known that human scientists were capable of bringing back an experienced warrior from the past, he might have thought twice before dividing his forces.  He might have paused before writing the citizens of Earth off as nothing more than a flock of sheep waiting for a brutal shepherd to lead them to their slaughter.

But Soo did not know that human science was capable of such a marvel.  In his experience, only the Waa—and perhaps the Zrthns—were capable of such remarkable feats of science.

Had the Minith general known that his tactics and strategy would be considered overly simplistic to a warrior like Grant Justice, he might not have been so confident in his force's abilities.  He might not have sent them out into a battlefield where jets, tanks, and artillery were going to be used against them.

But the Minith did not know.  He had seen the jets on Telgora, and had appreciated their speed.  But their offensive capabilities seemed limited to a few missiles each.  The concept of tanks and artillery was completely foreign to him.  Neither his governor nor his brother's spouse had thought to warn him of the human capabilities, even though they had been employed in the human attack on Waa only months before.

The view before him now was a bloodbath, and the blood was purple. 

*     *    *

Treel came to in the Zone of the ship.  He was lying unsecured on one of the tables normally used to train, torture, or teach its occupant. The pounding inside his head necessitated a slow, steady rise from the table's surface, and he obliged.  He swung his legs off the side and noticed Eli and Jonah watching him from across the room.  Neither were hurt or bound, merely seated and calmly waiting—for him to wake up, apparently.

The Minith spotted the armed warrior standing watch just outside the entrance and growled menacingly.  The guard—a new recruit, without rank, Treel noticed—heard the displeasure, as intended, but did not react.  He merely shifted his weapon, sending his own message.

"Take care, soldier.  I am Lieutenant Treel."

The guard's ears trembled slightly, a brief but noticeable sign that he understood.  He was in the presence of a ranking warrior.  Still, he did not speak.

"Why am I being held here?  I demand to see the Master of this ship."

The guard shifted his weapon again.  He appeared to consider the request; finally spoke.

"General Soo is not to be disturbed.  Upon our victory, I will deliver you to him or to his designee."

"Soo?"  The shock of hearing his brother's name was a blow to the gut and to his thoughts.  The knowledge that Soo led the forces of this mothership—and likely the rest of the forces here as well—was overwhelming, and he did not know how best to take advantage of the coincidence.

His need to see a familiar face—someone of his own flesh and blood—finally won the internal struggle.

"Tell the general that his brother, Lieutenant Treel, wishes to speak with him."

Part III

Confluence

CHAPTER 26

"Stop your whining, Grant.  Everyone makes mistakes.   What makes you any different or better than the rest of us?"

"Most mistakes don't get a thousand soldiers killed needlessly, Titan."

"General, we had a chance.   Maybe it wasn't a good one, but it's the one we had.  I refuse to believe my squad died needlessly.  They died fighting for what they believed in."

"Dammit, Conway.  They died because I refused to make a tough decision.  And for the last time, stop calling me 'General.'"

"Sorry, General.  Not a chance," the young soldier replied.  "It would be awkward.  Plus, I might get used to it, and then what happens when we get back to Earth?  I have to change
again
?  No, thanks.  I'll stick with what works for me.  General." 

She stood at her normal location when visiting the room the Waa had given Grant, just inside and to the left of the entrance.  Her arms were crossed, and despite the glare Grant sent her direction, she refused to look away.  In another time, on another planet, Grant might have thought she was a damn fine soldier.  But now, on this planet, he just did not care.

Grant groaned as a hot wave of distress swept across his psyche.  The feeling bubbled from a molten pool of shame that had settled at the core of his stomach.  Why was he still breathing when so many were not?  He would give anything to trade his life for the lives of the men and women who had fought and died following his orders, his plan, his failure. 

"Are you still feeling pain in your side, General?"  The sergeant misinterpreted the source of his pain, and Grant shook his head.

"No, Sergeant Conway.  That seems to be better now," he replied.  If she insisted on calling him 'General," the least he could do was return the consideration.  She deserved that much.

The effects of the concussion had long disappeared and the wound in his side was nearly healed.  All in all, Grant's body was back in fighting condition.  His mental health, on the other hand, was still badly battered. 

Responsibility for the humans and Telgorans who perished in the failed battle for the Minith capital landed fully on his shoulders.  The Minith defenders, while having the advantage in numbers, had not been overly strategic in their fight.  They had not defeated his forces—that award belonged to him.  His inability to sacrifice
some
had resulted in the loss of
all
.

Well, almost all.  He, Titan, and Sergeant Conway were the lone human survivors.  Patahbay and four of his
dindin
warriors made up the Telgoran contingent.  The Telgorans were responsible for abandoning the fight and leading their small group to the Waa.  Not that he could blame them.  It was a flee-or-die decision, and they had chosen flight. 

"So, are you ready for this?"

"Yes, Titan." Grant sighed and stood up.  He saw the look that passed between his two visitors.  Their concern was almost touching.  Almost.  "I think it's about time I saw the Waa again."

The trio left the small room and proceeded along the metal-lined corridors that made up the underground home of the Waa.  Grant's excursions into this labyrinth had been limited, but his fellow humans knew the way and led.

"Let's try to keep it together this time, huh, Little Man?" 

After their last meeting, the Waa had felt it was best to give Grant time to heal, mentally and physically, before meeting again.  After three months, the ancient soldier was physically well, so he had pushed for another meeting.  After weeks of denials, his hosts had finally agreed, but only after taking a few peeks into Grant's head.  The strange tingling sensation that accompanied each mental visit had tipped Grant off to the intrusions. 

"I'll do my best, Titan," he replied.  The group had passed through a long corridor and was making their way up a flight of stairs.  "But no promises.  Those little green fuckers freak me out."

"General, those… little green fuckers… are about as calming and Peaceful as any 'little fuckers' I've ever met," Conway replied.  Her use of the F-word surprised Grant and he made a promise never to utter the word again.  Too much of the garbage he brought from the twenty-first century had already made its way into his army's vernacular.  "The Waa are more Peaceful than my own Culture Leader."

At the mention, Grant wondered briefly what Randalyn Trevino was doing at that moment.  More specifically, he wondered how Earth was faring.  He had done the mental calculations and knew that the Minith motherships were damn close to Earth, if not there already. 

Those same mental calculations led him to believe that the army he had built—and that Mouse now led—would do pretty well against a few motherships full of Minith.  Although his attack on Waa had failed, he had learned that the aliens were not such great fighters.  Their equipment was lacking. They had no armor, jet, or artillery capabilities.  And their tactics were juvenile and straightforward.  In an even match of numbers, he had no doubt that the humans would kick the shit out of Minith ten times out of ten. 

On the other hand, the aliens that were headed toward Earth had little idea about the changes that taken place since he had kicked their asses off the planet. 
That
thought was like a bucket of cold water tossed onto the hot embers eating away at his stomach.  He was suddenly anxious to see the Waa again. 

"Where are the Waa?" Grant asked.  The corridors they traversed were empty.

"The Waa are a little strange that way, General.  They know where we are at all times, of course." Conway tapped the side of her head.  Mind reading.  "For some reason, they make a point of being somewhere else when we pass.  You get used it."

Grant merely nodded.  He wasn't sure he would ever get used to having his mind read—especially by a species from a distant planet.  The ability gave the Waa too much power.  Which led him to wonder—if they could read human minds, could they also read Minith minds?  The situation in which they existed—captives on their own world—indicated that they could not.

Twenty minutes later, Grant was led into a large room at the end of another metal corridor.  At the far side of the room, three of the short green aliens stood side by side.  Titan and Conway remained just inside the entrance while Grant was motioned to go forward.  He took in the Waa as he approached.  As before, he had a feeling that he had known them most of his life.  Their large, almond-shaped eyes were black and took up most of their faces.  Except for their heads and hands, their bodies were completely covered by floor-length robes of shiny metallic fabric. 

The mood the three Waa radiated was one of calm patience.  Grant wondered if they were always like this, or if they were projecting calm for his benefit.  Their last meeting had not gone so well.

"We are calm by nature."  The timbre of the center alien's voice matched his demeanor.  It was rich and soothing. 

So they were already reading his mind.  Just great.  It was a surprise to hear actual words, instead of just hearing them in his head.

"So, you can talk.  I thought you guys only spoke mind-to-mind." 

"Well, you were right.  I'd much rather have a real conversation." Grant smiled.  "But you already knew that, huh?"

"We knew."

Now that he was here, with the Waa, he did not know how to start.  He had so many questions—so much he wanted to know. 

"Can you read the minds of the Minith?"

"We cannot." 

 "If you can't read their minds, why would you seek out trade with them?  It doesn't add up."

The three Waa exchanged looks.  Grant felt they were exchanging thoughts as well.  When the alien on the right shook his head, Grant felt certain.  Finally, the speaker gave their answer.

"The explanation is difficult.  The short response is that we need the Minith."

"Need them?"

"Yes.  And as with Earth, we observed the Minith home world for years before reaching a decision to approach them."

"Wait a minute." Grant held up a hand, recalling what the Waa said during their first meeting.  "You stopped visiting Earth hundreds of years ago because we were getting too close to learning who and what you were.  But you thought it was a good idea to land on
Minith
?  Excuse me for saying so, but how could
that
be a good idea when anyone in their right mind can see that the Minith are nothing more than aggressive war-mongers?"

"We recognized and accepted the dangers."

"Really? And how did that work out for you?"  Grant raised his hands and indicated the walls around them.  "Obviously, not too well, right?  How could you believe that approaching the Minith was any less threatening than approaching Earth?"

"We needed them," the alien repeated.  "Also, the Minith are predictable.  Humans are not.  Predictability is one of the primary factors in our decision to reach out to other worlds."

"Well, the Minith tend to take whatever they want.  And they don't care who it belongs to.  I've only known them for seven years, and I can predict that."

"There was a miscalculation, yes." 

Grant blinked.  The Minith had stolen the Waa's ship and invaded their planet.  The invasion resulted in the bulk of the Waa hiding underground and sending workers to the surface to do the Minith's bidding.  And they called it a "miscalculation."

"So you reached out to them, they stole your ship, and then came here.  Now you are their slaves, correct?  Your people build the ships the Minith use against other worlds."

"Yes, but we have taken precautions to minimize the impact."

"What kind of precautions could you possibly take?  You're their slaves."

"It is true that we serve the Minith, but the construction we perform for them is minimal, and they do not understand or use the full breadth of our technology.  We would not want that.  They are also unaware of the extent of our existence."

"What do you mean by that?"

The three shared a look.

"Most of our population resides here, underground.  Over the years, we have slowly reduced our presence on the surface while informing the Minith that our population is decreasing.  Currently, no more than three hundred Waa are permitted above ground at any one time.  We are confident that our true numbers are unknown.  In this fashion, we limit our service and protect ourselves.  It is a practical relationship."

"Practical, huh?  You're trapped underground on your planet, while those living above you are left to pillage
my
world?  You might be okay with your end of that bargain, but it leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth."

<
You do not understand
.>

"Oh, so we're back to mind-speak, huh?"

<
It is easier for us to explain in this manner.  Words can only convey a portion of the meaning
.>