Peace World (3 page)

Titan, the former leader of Violent's Prison and the man responsible for the destruction of the Minith home world, argued that the tall, thin beings would make a unique addition to their forces.  Grant knew the man had become attached to the aliens—being stranded for five years on their planet had ensured that—but the giant ex-violent had a point, and his view helped sway Grant.  The Telgorans' persistence and ability to fight, coupled with his desire to retain them as allies of Earth, had caused him to relent. 

Unfortunately, his agreeing also meant delaying their departure as Patahbay and his people farmed and loaded enough
tatal
to keep themselves fed for several months. 

While the Telgorans loaded their supplies, the humans on the ship re-shuffled living quarters to make room for the newcomers.  The soldiers affected by the moves grumbled and complained.

Some things never change, regardless of the century
, Grant thought as he made his way to the command center.

Final preparations for leaving Telgora were underway at last.  They would be space-born within the hour.

As expected, Gee was sitting at his adopted workstation when Grant entered the heart of the vessel.  Gee was a one-man force of nature.  In addition to his duties of chief engineer and loadmaster, he single-handedly controlled the ship's engine, guidance, and other systems.  Without him, they would be stuck on the ground indefinitely.  Grant made a mental note to have the engineer begin training one of the soldiers or pilots on how the craft operated; wondered why he had not thought to do that before.  One of the fighter pilots would be a likely choice.

"Are we set, Gee?" Grant asked, taking his seat in front of the monitors.  They showed live feeds of the snowy-white exterior and the loading bay where the bulk of their fighting power was stored.

"Just about.  How are our passengers doing?"

"Just peachy.  Titan is in the mess hall eating the last of the fruit, the Telgorans are saying their goodbyes to the Family, and the troops are all complaining.  In a nutshell—everything is as perfect as it can be."

Gee offered a blank stare and a single, "Okay."

"Trust me, it doesn't get any better than this.  Now, when are we getting off this rock?"

The engineer gnawed a thumbnail and stared at the controls and the monitor.  Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he pushed a button on the console and the mothership hummed to life.

"Hell, Gee, if all you have to do is push a button, we should've been outta here hours ago."

Without taking his eyes away from the monitor, Gee lifted his right hand and extended his middle finger.

"Ha!"  Grant laughed.  "Where the heck did you learn that?"

"I have my sources," Gee grinned.  Grant knew the source had to be Mouse.  He had not shared
that
tidbit of history with anyone else—for a reason.

"Really?  Do you know what it means?"

Gee's grin faltered.  "Um.  I was
told
it meant 'stop bothering me.'  Is that even close?"

"Well, that's one meaning.  It has about a hundred others I won't go into," Grant explained.  "Suffice to say that not all of them were good.  Or respectful."

"Ah.  I see."

It always amused him when one of his twenty-first century mannerisms or figures of speech found its way into twenty-seventh century society.  This one—perhaps not so much.  There were some things that should stay buried, and giving someone the finger was one of those things, in Grant's opinion. 

He had no one to blame but himself.  

Shifting gears, he settled back and watched the ship lift off from the planet.  With the exception of the relatively minor losses his forces had experienced during their battles with the Minith, things had gone exceptionally well on Telgora.  Still, he was glad to be underway—anxious to take the next step against the enemy.

They were headed to Waa.  When Titan destroyed the aliens' home planet, it had become the new center of the Minith race.  It was there that their next battle would take place.

After their success on Telgora, Grant had hesitated on what their next step should be.  He had considered returning to Earth, but that would have put them in the same position they had been in for the past six years—waiting for the enemy to make their move, then fighting on their terms.  It was not a scenario Grant saw as being successful.  He had considered staying on Telgora and waiting for the Minith to land more forces there.  Again, he did not see any success in that move.

It was only after overhearing the conversation between the orbiting Minith mothership and their leader on Waa that Grant saw a clear path—through the planet Waa.

The enemy mothership was heading for Earth, but it would take months to get there.  Waa was much closer—if Gee was correct, they could be there within a week or two.  That would give them time to take the action to the aliens, to succeed or fail on their own terms. 

If they failed, Earth was on its own.  Grant took some solace knowing that the thousand soldiers on this ship would provide little additional help to a battle on Earth, especially if the Minith invaded in significant numbers.  Mouse, and the forces he now commanded, were well armed and adequately trained, but they needed numbers on their side to have a chance.  In a head-to-head contest, they would be a poor match for the hard-boiled, aggressive warriors that they Minith could put on the battlefield. 

On the other hand, if Grant and his forces succeeded—if they could overcome the Minith forces on Waa—there was a chance for complete victory. 

Grant's plan hinged on three things. 

First, the information he received from Treel would have to be true—specifically, the knowledge that Minith were programmed to bow down to a victor after being defeated.  Supposedly, it was why the captured alien had opened up to Grant so readily—it was in his genetic code and moral fiber to do so.  Grant could not discount the possibility that Treel had misled him, but he did not think so.  And if the information was accurate, cutting off the head of the Minith Governor should require the rest of the race to submit to the human victors.

Second, they would need access to the communication device that allowed the Minith leader to speak with her mothership in near real-time—even across light years of space.  Grant was just as surprised as his Minith counterpart that the capability existed, but obtaining it would allow them to communicate with Earth.  It would also allow the leadership on Waa to communicate with their forces approaching Earth.  It would allow them to stop the attack before it started.

Third, and most important, they had to land on Waa and defeat the Minith on their own territory.

Every cliché and platitude Grant could think of applied to the situation.  He was putting all his eggs in one basket, throwing a Hail Mary pass, and flying by the seat of his pants, all at once.  The chance of success was slim, but he did not have a better plan.

"How long until we reach Waa, Gee?"

"Approximately ten days," the engineer replied.  "Seven days traveling at interstellar speed, then three days to approach the planet."

"Why three days to approach?"

"Apparently, that's a safety mechanism built in to the craft.  A mothership can
exit
a solar system at interstellar speed, but the systems are designed to slow it down before it
enters
a solar system."

"What's the danger?"

"The danger is hitting a planet or moon," Gee stated with a knowing glance.  Grant silently added the unspoken, but hanging, "duh" to the end of the engineer's comment. 

"What's the chance of our hitting a planet? A moon?"

"Um.  It would depend on the solar system.  The more planets, the greater the likelihood of catastrophe."

"What about Waa's solar system?"

Gee frowned.  It was obvious he knew where Grant was going with his questions.  It was also clear he did not like the train of thought—but he pulled the data from the ship's databanks anyway.

"Waa resides in a system with thirteen other planets.  Combined with their moons and the sun, there are twenty-four objects the vessel could strike if we enter at excessive speed.   And we don't even have to hit the sun; we just have to come close."

"Did you ever play marbles as a kid, Gee?"  Remarkably, marbles was one of the few games from the twenty-first century that kids still played. 

"Yes, of course."

"Okay.  How large an area would the Waa solar system be if the planets were the size of marbles?"

"Well, the marbles would be different sizes, obviously.  And the sun would be closer in size to a human head," Gee muttered as he referred to the controls and monitor before him.  The sound of the craft as it lifted from the ground grew in its intensity, but the engineer did not seem to notice.  He was concentrating on the problem Grant had given him.

After a minute, he looked up from the monitor.  His eyes were wide and a goofy-looking grin split his countenance.   

"Amazing."

"How large?"

"The area would be more than a square kilometer in size."

"Damn, that
is
large" Grant said, then whistled.  "So, what are the chances of us hitting the human head or one of those twenty-three marbles if we didn't slow down outside the solar system?"

"Much, much less than one percent."

"Make it happen, Gee.  I want to be as close to Waa as possible before we drop out of interstellar speed."

The engineer turned to his monitor and began working the problem.

CHAPTER 2

"Why should we become involved in this squabble?  You know the Executive's stance on meddling in local affairs.  This appears to be a case of civil unrest between third-rate planets in the farthest, backwater corner of the galaxy."

Oiloo was prepared for the question.  He
was
aware of the policy—not that he agreed with it.  Zrthn leaders had been getting softer and softer over the past centuries, and the current Executive was no different.  Instead of exerting influence proactively, they followed a hands-off approach.  The only problem with the policy was the recurring need to solve issues on a reactionary basis.   

"Administrator Ellil, this
'backwater corner of the galaxy'
is one of our primary sources of agsel," Oiloo replied. 

The need to explain the importance of the region annoyed the regional trade arranger.  Although he did his best to hide the irritation, his re-use of the lead administrator's phrase, coupled with the emphasis he placed on them, caused several harsh looks to be cast his way. 

He took a deep breath and re-focused.  The Circle of Administrators, though mostly uneducated about his region, wielded supreme power over his activities.  The best he could do was inform the twelve superiors surrounding him of the issues, and rely on their faith in him to manage his region appropriately.

"We are aware of that, Trade Arranger." The cool reply was delivered without emotion.  "In our experience, these situations generally resolve themselves without intercession."

Oiloo wanted to dispute the assertion, but checked his response.  He settled on a summarization of recent history in the region. 

"Administrators, as you have already stated, this region is very remote.  In fact, it resides at the farthest border of our galaxy."  His feet were firmly planted in the center of the Administration Circle, but he rotated his head slowly to the right as he spoke.  He made eye contact with each of his superiors in turn as his head continued twisting.  "But its remoteness does not diminish the importance that it has for the Zrthn race, and for the continued success of our esteemed Executive."

Oiloo was not above playing a political card of his own, so he stressed the last part.  The Administrators served at the will of the current Zrthn leader.  His continued success ensured their own.  

"The agsel deposits in the region are significant," he continued.  "While they are not as large as those of the Ilthryn systems, they are vital for the long-term health of our economy.  You are all aware of the stresses our worlds have been under since the Minith planet was destroyed.  The halt in agsel delivery as a result of that act impacted the daily lives of every being who lives under the protection of the Executive."

The trade arranger's head completed its 360-degree turn and reached its starting point; he found himself facing Lead Administrator Ellil again.  He paused a moment, reversed the direction of his head, and continued with his discourse.  

"After years of delay, the agsel has started flowing again, and we have all seen the benefits.  Prices of goods are lower.  Manufacturing production and worker efficiency ratings are up.  These are direct results of the resumption of the agsel deliveries from this backwater region.

"I know the Executive is against interfering in local affairs.  But the continued instability in the region has a direct effect on our economy and on our ability to sustain our position with the rest of the major players in the galaxy.  If any situation were to ever require our direct involvement, this is it."

"Trade Arranger Oiloo, what are you recommending we do?"

Oiloo relied without hesitation.  "We must intercede so that the region remains stable.  We must take action so that the agsel continues to flow unabated."

"What
specific
actions are you suggesting?"

 "We must aid the Minith—militarily, if necessary."

The Administrators shared looks.  Oiloo felt some were swayed, while others not. 

"Thank you for your recommendations and for your time, Trade Arranger," the lead administrator stated.  "We will discuss this further and let you know what the Executive decides.  In the meantime, keep us apprised of the situation."

"Yes, Administrator," Oiloo replied.  The Circle of Administrators wavered, faded, and finally evaporated as the communication link was severed.

The trade arranger knew it would take his superiors time to get back to him with a decision—more time than they had if they were to affect the outcome favorably.  Nothing happened quickly, regardless of how critical the situation was or threatened to become.