Peace World (24 page)

The large man and the relatively small woman glared at each other, but neither tried to fight their way past Grant.  He caught Titan's eye and nodded his chin toward the chair.  With a grunt, the big man turned his back and resumed his previous position. 

"And you," Grant tipped his head toward Conway.  "Where did you learn the word 'bullshit?'"

"I wonder."

Grant wished he had never brought any of his words or mannerisms to the future.  They could only cause damage to the Peaceful citizens of Earth if they became widespread.  Despite arguments to the contrary, it wasn't only sticks and stones that could cause hurt.  How many past assaults, murders, and wars could be attributed to words? 
Too many
.  For the thousandth time, he reminded himself to watch his language more carefully.

"Well, it's not a Peaceful word, so stop using it."

"Since when have you cared about Peace?  General."  Her tone did not pass unnoticed, but Grant ignored it, released a heavy sigh.  He was so tired.

"I've always cared about peace, Conway, just a different kind.  The peace I care about is not capitalized," he explained.  "And it's certainly not forced on everyone through societal law.  The peace I care about can be defined in very simple terms:
the absence of war
."

"Forgive me for saying so, General, but your response is …
bullshit
.  One moment you tell me that saying a word is not Peaceful.  In the next breath, you tell me that Peace means nothing more than 'the absence of war.'  You can't have it both ways."

"The woman has a point, Grant," Titan added.

But Grant's conscious had already processed the point—recognized it as having merit.  In fact, Conway's response highlighted the real issue of peace, regardless of whether it was spelled with a capital "P" or not.  It was an epiphany for the ancient warrior—a moment of enlightenment that he had felt only a few times in his life, and he looked inward.  He gave himself over to a pressing need—a desire to uncover as much of the answer gnawing at the fringes of his mind as he could before it disappeared.

Peace is a concept that seems simple only on the surface.  Platitudes, clichés, and banal considerations are whitewash behind which the true complexities of peace hide.  Peace is not merely the absence of a negative force.  To be real, peace must also include the presence of a
positive
force.  A cease-fire alone does not constitute peace.  To be real, peace must include genuine amity and goodwill.  Otherwise, it is merely a lull in the conflict—a brief pause before the next bullet flies.

The concept of Peace, as practiced by the current citizens of Earth, was false.  But for the first time in his life, Grant understood that
his
concept of peace was just as false.  Peace is
not
merely the absence of war.  There are too many other factors and conditions that contribute to the concept.  Unrest, turmoil, disorder, conflict, strife.  None of these are "war," but all affect the ability to achieve and maintain peace. 

Grant resurfaced to find Titan and Conway staring at him.  He did not know how long he had been under, but he had definitely been spacing out.  He still did not have the answer to peace—the complexities were simply beyond his ability to decipher.  But he did possess a new awareness. 

"Sorry," he said, shaking his head.  "Just thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself, Little Man," Titan taunted.  "But I hope you were thinking about how we're going to get Gee."

"No," Grant admitted with an embarrassed smile.  "But that's next on my list."

CHAPTER 29

Patahbay and one of his warriors led the way; the other two Telgorans tailed behind.  Grant simply followed along as the Waa sent mind-directions that would take them to the stairwell which would eventually take them up to the surface.  He could not help but marvel at the extent of the underground labyrinth they passed through as they made their way to the eventual exit point.  He had thought the underground caverns of Patahbay and his people were impressive, but even those were nothing like this.  Even though they saw none of them, more than a hundred million Waa lived in these passageways, if Aal was telling him the truth. 

And the Minith believed fewer than three hundred of the planet's natives remained.  Incredible.

An hour after they started, Patahbay halted before a nondescript door and looked at Grant.

"We are here."

Grant nodded. 

"Everyone, check your weapons.  According to Aal, Gee's thoughts don't indicate any presence of soldiers," he informed the others.  "On the other hand, the Waa have not made direct, formal contact with Gee, so they can't be certain.  We need to be ready for anything."

"How far do we have to climb?" Titan asked his Telgoran friend.  "I remember it being a long climb down to get here."

"Still a long climb," Patahbay replied, his words accompanied by the now-familiar nods of the four
dindin
warriors.

"Just great."

"It didn't seem that bad to me," Grant chided.  They all knew he had been unconscious for most of the journey down from the surface. 

"General, you're gonna need those legs of yours before we're through," Conway said, indicating the scientifically modified appendages he had been given.  She then pointed to Titan.  "Hell, you'll probably have to carry this guy most of the way up."

"Ha," Titan replied.  "I'm twice your size.  I'll be carrying
you
before we're through."

"Not likely.  I remember your wheezing and coughing after that little run we had a few months back.  I don't think your endurance has improved since then."

"Let's save our breaths for topside, shall we?" Grant asked, interrupting their back-and-forth.  "We'll know soon enough who's in shape and who isn't."

An hour and more than three thousand steps later, Grant and the Telgorans reached the top.  Grant was winded and his legs ached; the Telgorans looked ready to go another three thousand steps.  The veteran soldier sat on the top step and waited for the other two humans.

Conway arrived ten minutes later, gasping for breath and with sweat pouring down her face.  She collapsed to the landing with a groan and lay unmoving.

When Titan showed up twenty minutes later, Conway was leaning lazily against the side of the landing with her arms crossed.  She nonchalantly whistled a tune Grant did not recognize, but that obviously wasn't the point. 

Titan spared only a moment to glare daggers at the sergeant before collapsing to the deck.  It was the same thing Conway had done when she reached the landing, but Grant wasn't going to tell Titan that.  She had earned her small victory.

"Twenty minutes to let 'Mr. Big' here regain his legs and wind.  Then we move out," Grant announced.

*     *     *

Gee was bored.  It was a growing problem for the engineer, who was used to having too much to do, not too little.  After nearly three months of captivity, his only real activities involved spending time with his warden's sons, Arok and Teng, and eating.

Of those two activities, he had to admit that being with the two young Minith was the preferred.  Although Minith and humans are both omnivorous and can usually digest similar foods, finding a suitable meal that was pleasing to all his senses had proven a challenge.   Fortunately, Rala had been patient, and seemed to care enough about his well-being to be concerned with his needs.  After a week of trying various foods, he had settled on his top three or four choices—all vegetables native to Waa—and had learned to enjoy them almost as much as his Earth favorites.  Through the course of the effort, he had somehow managed to lose the extra ring of pounds that had always fleshed out his waistline.  For the first time in his life, he was actually slim.

As for the young Minith, Gee was surprised to find them interesting companions, as well as likeable.  His previous experiences with the alien soldiers posted to Earth had only shown him one side of the race—and it had not been their best side.  The boys were competitive in almost everything they did, but that was to be expected.  They were Minith, after all.  What was not expected were the regular displays of humor, intelligence, and tolerance.  Neither boy, nor their mother, fit the previous vision he had held of the Minith.  In those rare instances when he dropped his guard and the thought crept up on him, he wondered how many 'good' Minith he had killed when his engineering handiwork helped destroyed their home planet.

Soon after his capture, he was released from his room—he preferred calling it a room versus a cell—to observe Arok and Teng take part in combat training.  He found the activity excessively violent, but there was a certain rush of excitement that came with the violence when he realized they were not trying to hurt each other.  He expressed his pleasure to Rala, and after that was often allowed to watch the boys take their lessons.  On each occasion, he was asked to offer feedback and constructive criticism on how each lesson went and whether he felt each boy performed up to his best.  Because of his inability and his personal lack of desire to fight, he rarely had anything to offer. 

What he did have to offer was his own knowledge and experience, and he looked for ways to use his abilities to help ease the boredom-filled days.  As the weeks passed, his attention turned to the problems of weapons and fighting.  He still considered himself a Peace-loving human, but the aggressive habitat in which he found himself understandably caused him to begin thinking in those terms. 

The boys sparred primarily with their bodies, staffs, and dulled blades to minimize injury.  The boys' mother had made it clear that neither would be allowed to pick up a Minith pulse weapon until they were sufficiently trained in the manual arts of combat.  According to Rala, their father had once told her that training with a pulse weapon gave a fighter a false sense of power, and he declared that his sons would learn to defend themselves with nothing more than their hands and the tools they could find in any Minith home.  She had taken that to heart, and in his absence was putting his declaration into reality with their training regimen.

As any good engineer would, Gee put his mind to thinking about weapons that could be created using simple items.  He didn't begin with the notion of needing a weapon, just with a question of "what are the possibilities?"  It did not take him long to come up with an idea, and he requested some simple items be delivered to his room.  Thirty minutes later, Gee had turned them into passable versions of what he envisioned.  Pleased that the idea was sound, Gee waited anxiously for the next sparring session.  The following morning, he got his chance. 

He sat quietly as Arok and Teng went through their daily training rituals.  This morning's class was on the use of their feet as weapons.  After an hour of back-and-forth sparring, with oversight provided by their mother, the boys finally finished.  Satisfied that their session was concluded, Gee politely asked Rala if he could show them what he had been working on.  The Minith mother quickly agreed.

As the three aliens watched with attentive silence, Gee laid out a long, thin, flexible staff made up of a native wood.  Beside the long staff, he laid out three shorter, slimmer versions.  When the staffs were arranged, he drew a thin cord from his pocket and attached it to one end of the long staff.  Once the cord was attached, Gee placed the tied end on the ground and bent the staff as far as the flexibility in the wood would allow.  He then attached the cord to the other end.  In this manner, he created a crude, but effective, bow.

Gee then pointed to one of the cactus-like plants that surrounded the sparring field and notched one of the shorter staffs onto the cord of the bow.  He pulled the cord back and aimed carefully at the plant.  When he released the cord, the makeshift arrow flew quickly in the direction of the plant.  It missed the mark by several feet, but the show impressed his audience.  Teng and Arok stomped their feet and shouted.

Rala, however, was less than happy, and when Gee picked up a second arrow, she interceded.

"Stop!"

After years serving the Minith as a slave on a mothership, Gee was familiar with the tone they used to convey an order.  He immediately ceased nocking the bow and turned to the alien mother.  Despite the boys' apparent glee at his demonstration, Rala's body language showed anger, worry, and a hint of fear. 

His initial moment of confusion was suddenly overpowered by a touch of clarity.  He was a human.  He had a weapon in his hands.  A Minith mother and her two offspring were within striking distance.  He dropped the bow and arrow as if scalded. 

The arrows weren't sharpened; they were basically just sticks that could be fired from the bow.  And his attempt at shooting the plant showed how inaccurate they were.  On top of that, the thought of shooting
at
the Minith
had never occurred to him.  The idea, now that it had been put into his head, both appalled and frightened him.  But Rala could not know that. 

She had quickly dismissed him, but demanded he leave the bow and arrows behind.  He had slouched away, certain that his actions had just committed him to never leaving his room—his cell—again.

That had been ten days ago, and to his disbelief, he had been invited to practice the very next day.  The surprises continued when, at the conclusion of the practice, Rala asked him to work on the weapon, perfect it for her sons' use. 

A week later, the improved bow was finished and both boys had incorporated it into their personal arsenals and their training.  Unfortunately for Gee, the boredom returned with the weapon's completion. 

Now, waiting in his room to be summoned to the day's lesson, he wondered what else he could do to fill the empty hours. 

*     *     *

Rala marched confidently down the corridor to the outer courtyard.  This was the best part of her day—being with her sons as they trained to become warriors.  Planning how to wrest control of their race from the incompetence of Governor Truk and his cronies took ninety-five percent of her concentration and focus.  The remaining five percent she dedicated to her sons, and that time together did more than cement their family bond.  It also cleansed her mind of the detritus that accompanied the political manipulations required of her position, and prepared her palate for the next round.  These few hours with Arok and Teng made the rest of her day bearable.