Peace World (10 page)

If not for the situation in which she found herself—surrounded by aliens, her general wounded, and just out of a brutal battle in which all of her squad had been killed—she might have been amused to see the most feared man on Earth wheezing and gagging like an out-of-shape farmer chasing livestock.  Instead, she barely gave it a second's thought.  She scanned outside the door and, seeing no Minith, took a tentative breath.

When she turned back to the group, Grant was standing—sort of—on his own.  There was a gash on the right side of his head and a hole in his side where the Minith soldier had shot him.  Both wounds were bleeding profusely.  Grant held his left hand over the wound in his side while gently probing the gash on his head with his right.

"What the hell happened?" he asked weakly.  "And where are we?"

"You got shot from behind." Conway grimaced.  She was supposed to have been watching his back.  "Then Big Head here tossed you over his shoulder and made a mad dash for it.  This is where we ended up."

"What?  What about the fight?  Where are the rest of our troops?"

"The last I saw, we were on our last legs," Titan wheezed from the ground.  "I doubt there's anyone left out there by now."

The general dropped to his knees and closed his eyes tightly.  "My fault."

"It's not your fault, Grant," Titan countered.  "There were just too many of them."

Conway considered Titan's words and the general's assertion.  She thought they might both be correct.  If they had sent the reserve infantry ahead of the ground troops, they might have had a chance.  Then again, there were so many Minith, it likely would not have made a difference in the long run.

"I should have sent the carriers directly to the governor's residence," Grant said, confirming Conway's own thoughts.  "Instead, I killed us all."

"No time,"  Big Head interjected.  "We must go now."

"Go where, Patahbay?"  Titan stood up and drew a long, shuddering breath. 

"To the Waa.  Follow me."

Titan moved immediately to follow them, but General Justice wavered.  Conway knew he was thinking about the soldiers they had left to face their deaths.  She felt a similar need to be with them.

Big Head—Patahbay—saw the general's hesitation, scooped him up without preamble, and set off at a jog for the far end of the hallway. 

The general was shouting and beating on the Telgoran's back when they entered a dark stairwell at the end and started down.

The sergeant gazed longingly at the street outside the see-through doorway.  For a moment, she considered heading back to the fight that had already been lost.  Then she remembered her promise to watch the general's back.   Reluctantly, she fell in line and started down.

 As she followed, she mourned.

*     *     *

Rala calmly assessed the pale human for several minutes.  She was not impressed.  He was lying on his back in the far corner of the small closet. 

Sleeping. 

Each intake of breath was accompanied by a strange, gurgling sound that emanated from the hole in its face.  The struggle for air caused her to think he might be damaged in some way.  Is that why he had sought refuge away from the battle?  There was no sign of injury or blood, but that meant little—perhaps the wound was internal. 

Hurt or not, she had difficulty reconciling the pitiful being with the deadly ships that had flown so fast and so angrily outside her window.  They were obviously made for killing.  This creature was… obviously not. 

A five-year-old Minith in his first year of training seemed more dangerous. 

Shaking off her thoughts, she reached out with the toe of her boot and prodded the human roughly.

"Wake, human."

Her kick had the desired effect.  The male's mouth snapped shut and his eyes snapped open.  He sat up quickly and, with a whimper, pushed himself as far into the corner as his body would allow.  No, he was not made for killing.  Rala recalled everything she knew about humans… weak, incapable sheep, born to be slaves, and seemingly incapable of resistance.  So far, this poor specimen fit the description perfectly.

"Get up, human.  We must go."

For the first time, the human surprised her.

"Where are we going," he asked in perfect Minith.

Now there's a good sign
, she thought as she aimed the weapon she had been holding at her side.

"We're taking a ride, human.  Now move."  She stepped aside and let the male pass through the door ahead of her.  He offered no resistance.  "To the left and down the stairs."

Ten minutes later, the human was bundled tightly and lying on the floor of her personal carrier.  A thick blanket was draped over his unmoving form. 

Rala navigated the vehicle out of the building and headed for her home.  As the second most powerful Minith on the planet, she had no problem making her way through the checkpoints and soldiers swarming the area.

She thought about her catch and wondered what he would be able to tell her of Earth and the human forces that had landed on Waa.  Mostly, she hoped he could tell her about the Minith forces that had been posted to Earth.  She hoped he could tell her about Treel. 

Her ears twitched in anticipation.

CHAPTER 11

When they reached their destination, Gee was pulled roughly from the back of the carrier.  He dropped the half-meter to the ground with a rough jolt, and was dragged by his bound feet up a short flight set of—thankfully—padded steps. 

The female Minith dragging him—the first female alien he had ever seen—did not seem to care if he was injured or uncomfortable.  He was just a package being delivered.  Gee had the feeling that for her, he was not worthy of consideration or empathy.  Then again, the Minith soldiers he had lived among for so many years had never displayed those traits, so why should he expect anything different from the opposite sex?

He wanted to ask her where she was taking him, but the cloth she had shoved into his mouth prevented more than the occasional grunt.  And grunt he did whenever she turned a corner and his head slapped against a wall.  After the third time, he started watching for the corners and moved his head away from the incidental bashings.  The female saw him take evasive action and smiled in that peculiar way that the Minith smile.  The corners of her ugly green snout turned slightly downward, and the tips of her ears twitched just a bit.  A laugh was the same, but the ears twitched faster—and when they found something to
really
laugh at, the tips literally vibrated.

Most humans will never know that
, he thought. 
Most humans never get close enough to these things to actually
see
them laugh—much less recognize it as a laugh.
  It wasn't knowledge he relished having.  The only thing it represented was that he had lived with the Minith for far too many years.  In some respects, Gee felt as though he understood the aliens more than his own people.

The female—a slightly darker shade of green than the males—dragged him out a door.  Detecting a change in lighting, the engineer raised his head and quietly surveyed his surroundings.  They had entered an inner courtyard.  It was a ten-meter square area, surrounded by four walls.  Above, there was no roof, only sky; below them, the floor seemed to be the dirt surface of Waa.  A dozen or more shiny metallic stools rose from the ground at random intervals. 

Weaving in and out between the metal stools, two miniature alien warriors were attacking each other with long poles.  The sounds of their breathing, along with the slaps, whips, and cracks as the poles flashed and connected, filled the courtyard. 

Gee realized that the two aliens were actually Minith children when the female adult stopped pulling him.  They were the pale green shade that designated them as males.  She dropped his feet, gave him a light kick, and announced their presence.

"Arok.  Teng."

The two fighters ceased their sparring at once and turned toward her voice.  The larger of the two bowed.  The smaller started to bow, but saw Gee and seemed to forget what he was doing.  Only a moment after hesitating, he received a slap of pole from the larger child for his negligence.

"Bow, stupid."

The smaller boy did not seem to feel the assault, or hear the order.  Instead, he continued to stare.  A slight grunt from the female, however, quickly brought him back to reality.  He completed the bow, then pointed.

"Mother, is that a human?"

"Yes, Teng.  This pitiful creature is a human.  Beware what you say, though.  He understands our language."  The mother gave Gee a sharp kick to the side.  "Isn't that correct, human?"

The gag prevented him from speaking, so he grunted a pained reply and nodded.

"What's he doing here, Mother?" the brother called Arok asked.  In addition to being slightly larger, he seemed more composed than the smaller of the two young aliens.  Gee surmised that he was the older of the two.

"I'm sure the human is wondering the same thing," Mother answered.  "Isn't that correct, human?"

She delivered another kick to Gee's already-bruised ribs for emphasis.

*     *     *

Grant groaned upon waking. 

His first thought was
pain
.  His head pounded and the wound in his side throbbed wickedly with each beat of his heart.  Then he remembered—and felt the greatest pain he had ever felt.  It was the anguish of knowing that he had failed. 

He had failed to lead his soldiers well. 

He had failed to complete their mission. 

He had failed to protect his wife, his child, and the rest of the people of Earth.

His spirit, emotions, and mind were crushed by the unbearable weight and pain of his failures.

Not yet ready to open his eyes, he reached out with his other senses to gauge his surroundings.  He was lying on a padded surface.  It was comfortable, and if not for the pain and memories, he would have been content to keep sleeping—to ignore the reality for a while longer. 

But he could not ignore his new reality, despite how much it hurt.  He was responsible and he forced himself to face that truth, own up to it.  Anything less would be to disrespect those he had let down.

A distant hum of machinery, not unlike the hum of a mothership, reached into his thoughts and brought him back to full consciousness.  The hum was interspersed with an occasional, faraway bang or clank.  Much closer, he recognized the unmistakable wheeze-and-saw of someone snoring. 

The last thing he remembered was being carried like a child as the group wound their way down stairways, ramps, and steps.  Their passage from the surface became a dizzying maze of turns, dark passageways, and hidden doors that carried them deeper and deeper beneath the surface of Waa. 

The Telgorans had never been to Waa.  They could not have known the pathways to take.  As such, it was obvious they had been receiving mental directions from the planet's native inhabitants. 

Grant finally opened his eyes.  He was lying on a padded platform in a dimly lit room.  Slumped against a wall to his left, Sergeant Conway slept noisily.  It wasn't a sleep of peace and contentment.  Her weapon was cradled across her body and Grant knew instinctively that she had fallen asleep while watching over him.  He wished he deserved the loyalty and respect that her actions revealed, but knew he did not. 

Ignoring the beseeching complaints from his body, the wounded soldier slowly worked himself into a seated position and swung his legs off the platform.  The move caused his vision to blur and his head to swim.  He clung tightly to the platform and fought against the wooziness that insisted on pulling him from his tentative perch.  After several seconds of touch and go, his head finally stopped swimming.  For the first time ever, Grant thanked Tane for scientifically increasing his tolerance for pain.  Without the enhancement, he knew he would never have raised himself from his back.

Grant took a deep breath and debated his next move.  Except for a single doorway, the platform upon which he sat, and Conway's slumped, snoring form, the room was empty. 

"Yo.  Conway," he whispered.  The words felt like sandpaper scraping against his vocal chords.  He cleared his throat, tried to swallow, then tried again.

"Becka."

The sergeant stirred, opened her eyes, and glanced nervously around the room.  Grant did not know where she had been inside her dreams, but he watched knowingly as she quickly came back to the reality of the here and now.  It would be no more pleasant for her than it had been for him.

Failure. 

Mostly his, but she had to feel some of it as well.  Her squad had not made it out alive.  She had.  That always leaves a scar—sometimes you can see it, other times you can't.

Their eyes met, but neither spoke of what they felt.  There might be time for that later, and maybe not.  Right now, Grant just wanted to know what the hell was going on.

"Where are we, Conway?"

"We're with the Waa, General," she replied, confirming his prior assessment.  "They patched you up and put you here to recuperate."

"How far down are we?"

"I don't really know… a long way, though.  We walked for over an hour through the city's underground.  When we left that behind, we continued down for at least another couple of hours."

"Where's Titan?  Patahbay?"

"The Telgorans were excited when we finally met up with the Waa.  They remind me of a small dog I once had.  Every time I left her alone—didn't matter if it was for twenty minutes or twenty days—that dog would piss herself in excitement when I got home.  They didn't piss themselves that I could see, but they were excited like you would not believe.  They're still with the Waa somewhere."  She waved her hand at the doorway beside her.  "Titan is with them."

"All right, then."  Grant scooted to the edge of the platform and put his left foot down.  He noticed that his boots were missing at the same time he realized he was falling.  He hit the ground heavily and banged his already-injured head on the hard surface.