Peace Warrior

by Steven L. Hawk

  “We have to return to the prison to help Titan.” He then turned to Tane who stood quietly, almost comfortably, to the side.

  “Tane, it would be wise to inform the Leadership Council of what’s happened. The Minith will waste no time in striking back. Try to make them understand that what we did was necessary and that more of the same will be coming. No fight is without casualties and they should know that up front. They have to get the word out that violence is necessary against the Minith. They have to alert the population that violence is not only necessary but also expected.”

  “They will not like it, Grant.”

  “Hell, Tane, I don’t like it either, but it has to be done.”

  Grant saw the resolution in Tane’s face and knew that the scientist would do everything in his power to make the Council understand. He only hoped that Tane would succeed. “The Minith cannot be defeated without violence. Peace has its place in every society, but so does violence.”

  “I will leave immediately, Grant.” Tane turned to go, but stopped and turned back to Grant. “And do not worry,” Tane said, tilting his head toward Avery’s room, “We will take care of her.” Grant nodded his gratitude, glad that his friend understood.

  “Mouse, Sue, are you ready to go?” The two ex-prisoners nodded and followed Grant toward the exit.

  “Hey, Grant?”

  “Yeah, Mouse?”

  “We ain’t gonna have to stay this time are we?” Grant realized that Mouse was planning to stay an ex-prisoner and had to smile at the large man.

  “No, Mouse. We’ve got too much to do outside those walls to ever make you go back against your will.”

  Mouse smiled broadly, his few teeth shining brightly. “Sounds good to me, boss.”

  * * *

  Mouse piloted the carrier vehicle as if he was born to it and explained to Grant that his experience came from his 'pre-violence' days. He had studied hard in school and had been one of the fortunate ones in his post-education assignment as a shuttle pilot for N’mercan dignitaries. Surprised by the insight into the other man's background, Grant asked for more information and found out that Mouse, whose real name was Bryan Rogerson, had been sent to Violent's Prison nearly six years before.

  Mouse explained how he had been piloting a routine shuttle flight between Lanta and Washt'n for one of the N’mercan Culture's dignitaries when his problems began. Mid-way through the flight his attentions had been drawn to the rear of the carrier by a scream from the dignitary's female companion.

  At first, as his training demanded, Mouse made no attempt to move from his pilot's chair. He ignored the sounds of the struggle in the rear but his judgment would not sit still for long. Sure that the woman had hurt herself in some manner, Mouse placed the vehicle on automatic flight and opened the door that separated the flight cabin from the passenger's compartment. His naiveté at believing the sounds coming from the rear were the result of an accident was quickly wiped away.

  He stopped with barely one foot through the door. The scene before him was the first incident of Violence he had ever witnessed and he found it nearly impossible to believe it was really happening. The woman was on the floor of the carrier with her neck held securely in the grip of the dignitary's clenched hands. The woman struggled feebly beneath the man. Her clothes had been torn from her body. Mouse stared at the scene, at first unsure of what to do. Then he noticed the woman's face turning blue.

  With no conscious thought regarding Peace or violence, Mouse hurled himself at the man he had been hired to transport. Because of his size, he easily toppled the man and had him restrained in less than a minute. After securing the Violent, Mouse checked the woman, but could find no pulse. She was dead. Sickened by what he had witnessed, and distraught that he had acted too late, Mouse flew the remaining miles to Washt'n, relieved that he would at least be able to turn in her killer.

  "To make a long story short," he continued, "the guy convinced everyone that it was me who killed the woman."

  "So you ended up in Violent's Prison?"

  "Sounds like a bad dream, doesn't it?" Grant had to agree that it did and shook his head that even now, six hundred years after his own time, such injustices could still occur.

  Grant felt that Mouse wanted to be alone with the controls he had not operated for over six years so he retreated to the rear. He used the remainder of the flight to learn the Minith language from the tapes Avery made before she had been returned to the aliens. He had a clear understanding of the alien language after ten minutes. It was easier to pick up than most of the Afc'n Culture Languages and all of the As'n ones. An hour later, the carrier landed on the ground at the Outer Square and Grant could speak near-fluent Minith.

  Pound met them as they exited and Grant shook hands with the man he had faced upon his initial arrival at the prison. He looked better now than he had before and Grant suspected Titan had already begun spreading the food among the outer squares. He looked around and his suspicions were confirmed. He saw meat cooking over several fires and heard his stomach rumble as his nose quickly picked up the scent. He had not eaten in more than 24 hours.

  "How about some food, Pound?" he asked the other man, who smiled at once. Pound was obviously pleased with the turn of events since Grant's arrival days before.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Tane arrived at the World Building of Cultural Leadership and Peace an hour after the Minith left it.

  The building that housed the Leadership Council was chaos incarnate as people ran in and out of the building unimpeded by the usual access controls that governed entry to the hallowed halls of mankind’s most important structure. There was blood, still wet and bright red, splashed across the granite steps that led into the building. Tane worked his way around the larger pools of red, fear etched deeply in his nerves. There were no bodies, but he knew what waited inside. Death.

  He quickened his pace and passed deeper into the building, heading for the Council's chambers at the center. He passed more tracks of red in the outer hallways of the building and followed them. They seemed to lead inward, toward the core of the building. Still, there were no bodies.

  He reached the solid wooden doors of the Council's Chamber and hesitated, suddenly afraid to proceed. With a deep breath to steel his ragged nerves, he pushed the heavy oak barricades open. He stepped into the chamber and froze.

  Inside, seated quietly around the table, were the six Culture leaders. Alive. Unmoving. Staring.

  On the Council Table in front of them, piled like sticks of fallen timber, were dozens of human bodies. The bloodied corpses had been tossed upon the wooden surface by the Minith who had dragged them there. Their message was clear. They were a warning to the Council, and to the World, that the Minith would not accept rebellion by its subjects. At least, not without a price.

  "Peace be with us." Tane croaked. Without warning, the contents of his stomach rose like lava and splattered across the crimson-stained floor. His stomach emptied itself of the bile but his mind could not. The sight of the broken corpses piled upon the table soaked through his tightly closed eyes. He lost track of time as his body rebelled against the horror.

  An eternity later, Tane opened his eyes to the reality that would forever haunt his days and nights. It was unchanged, as he knew it would be, and he looked away from the tangle of limbs and blood as quickly as he could. His eyes landed on Randalyn Trevino, his own Culture Leader. She met his look without flinching. Tane saw the hatred that toiled behind the other's seemingly calm exterior.

  "The Minith?" It was a pointless question, but one Tane could not contain. He had to hear the confirmation.

  "Yes." Primo Esteval spoke, his Standard language tinged slightly with an accent of his S’mercan Cultural accent. This lingual slip was more than enough for Tane to realize how deeply affected the Leader Elect was by this madness before them.

  Tane held his voice with some difficulty. Like the others, he was not accustomed to Violence but,
unlike the Culture Leaders, he knew that his own race had done recent, similar damage to the Minith. He owed each of the Council Leaders an explanation but did not know where to begin. He was spared from his discomfort by an unexpected source.

  "We must resist against the aliens. We have been complacent for too long."

  Tane, along with the member of the Council, turned toward Sabatina Sabontay, the Urop'n Culture Leader. An outspoken Pacifist, she surprised everyone at the table with her bold statement. In the seven years of representing her Culture, she had never done less than everything in her power to preserve Peace. At whatever cost. Now, turning completely around in her behavior, she was espousing retaliation against the aliens.

  Quasan Alla, the Musl’n Culture Leader, was not so contradictory to his past stance against any form of violence. "No! We must not lower ourselves to their level. Peace is the only way!" Tane opened his mouth to speak, but was beaten to the moment.

  "Bah! You fool! There is no place on Earth for Peace now," the N’mercan leader spat. The anger Tane recognized a few moments before was raising its head now for all to see. Randalyn’s face churned with the emotion she felt. Her lips curled into an enraged snarl and spittle flew from them as she spoke. Tane was saddened to observe his Leader, who had served his Culture so well for so long, succumb to the madness that gripped her.

  "We must fight! We have prepared for this through Senior Scientist Rolan's experiments and we cannot back away from it now! We must destroy the Minith!" Her fist pounded the table and the stacked bodies shifted. One of the topmost bodies, that of an older man dressed in the robe of a scholar slid sideways; threatened to topple of the stack. It held and Tane felt the breath he had been holding leave his chest. To his surprise, none of the Leaders pushed away from the table. Instead, they continued to look toward Randalyn.

  “We must fight,” Randalyn repeated. “We must remove the Minith from our planet”

  Esteval, Sabontay and Diekela Mamun, the Afc'n Leader, nodded their heads in agreement.

  "But Peace is the only --"

  "Enough!" Primo Esteval, in his role as Leader Elect held up his hand to stop the Musl'n Leader's arguments. "These are not ordinary times. We are at war whether we wish it or not. We must vote on how to proceed. As I see it there are two choices."

  The Leader Elect looked around the table, pausing briefly to meet the eyes of each Culture Representative. He had to look around the piled bodies to see Suyung, the As'n Representative, but his look lost none of the emotion it carried and Suyung nodded.

  "Option one: We succumb to the violence of the Minith and relegate the preservation of our world and the security of our Cultures to the Minith.

  "This option, as we have all known for some time, will lead to the death of our world. There will be nothing left for our race, and we will die."

  Quasan opened his mouth to speak but Esteval's glare quickly halted the attempt.

  "The second option," he continued, "and the one I will vote for is this: We allow Senior Scientist Tane Rolan, with the assistance of his experiment, to continue with the mission for which we have planned. This is no time to turn our backs on this chance. It is our only hope."

  Esteval, no longer displaying any trace of S'mercan accent, posed the final question before the Council. "What option do you choose, Culture Leaders?"

  Tane left the chamber a few minutes later, shaking his head. The vote had been unanimous and he had plenty of work ahead.

  * * *

  "We are prepared to fight!"

  Titan raised his hands triumphantly over his head and the crowd of men around him shouted in agreement. Their chorus swelled to a din in the building between the Second and Third Squares and quickly became a deafening roar as the shouts and screams echoed and bounced through the enormous hallways. Grant nodded at Titan through the tumult, pleased that they were prepared to do battle with the Minith. Eagerness for the fight was half of the preparation needed for the war. But it was not the only preparation needed and Grant had no desire to go up against the aliens with a gang of thugs. He wanted an army and, as soon as the noise died down, made his point with Titan.

  "Good, Titan. Now all we need is a few days of training and we'll be ready."

  "Training? A few days? We want to fight now!" Titan was upset by the statement, as Grant knew he would be. Eager fighters never wanted to train. Instead, they wanted to begin the battle, certain in their ability to overcome their opponents through sheer desire and will power. Grant did not know how to tell these men that such determination quickly fades when the battle begins but good training sees an army through to victory. It was a tough lesson to learn and he had been fortunate. Many young soldiers never learned that lesson, their determination and spirit for the battle long forgotten as they lay dying from a stupid mistake.

  "Eagerness is one thing," Grant tried to explain, "but there is no substitute for training. There are some things about the Minith that we need to discuss. Strategies and plans we need to work on."

  "But, Grant," Titan pleaded, his desire to fight the aliens a visible thing, "we want to fight now." The men gathered around them listened intently to what was said. It was plain to Grant that they wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, and were willing to go up against the Minith if that's what it took.

  "I know, Titan, I know. But we must plan this carefully if we are to win. The Minith are well trained as a fighting force. If we meet them with anything less than the same, we, and the rest of the world, will fail."

  Titan held his tongue while he considered Grant's words. Finally, almost reluctantly he said, "All right. We'll wait for you to decide when we're ready."

  Grant smiled, and the men around them murmured their reluctant agreement.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Tane arrived at the prison and immediately sought out Grant. He had to inform him of the Council's decision.

  Grant received Tane's news from the Council with little emotion. He had decided already that, with or without the Council's blessing, he and those volunteers he could gather would wage war on the Minith. This world, although not of his era, was still of his race, and very much worth fighting for. He would not relinquish its control to another race, no matter what his own race's leaders decided. In fact, with the help of Titan, Mouse and Pound, he had already begun the work of building an army from the men and women of Violent's Prison.

  "It is good to have the Council behind us, Tane, but it means little. Our problems with the Minith go beyond the Council. Every man, woman and child of this planet is affected by the actions and orders of those aliens. They have to be driven away. No matter what it takes."

  “I understand what you are saying, Grant. But I feel greatly relieved by the Council’s decision. The Minith will never leave of their own volition. Force is our only recourse and I am pleased to know that the Council did not waiver from this difficult decision.”

  Grant nodded. “I guess you’re right, Tane. It’s good the Council understands that violence and armed aggression, when used for the benefit of all humankind, have their place. The time for Peace ended with the arrival of the Minith.”

  "What do we do now, Grant?"

  Grant looked at the small man who had given him a second chance at life and who had freed him from an eternity of endless memories. His answer to Tane was simple. "We train, we fight and we win."

  For the next three days, Grant and his cadre drilled the men and women of Violent's Prison in the art of soldiering. Mouse, Titan and Pound taught the fighting styles they had been forced to learn in order to survive the brutality of the prison. Pound taught the knife, Mouse the chain, and Titan instructed the soldiers in a variety of other weapons. Other prisoners displayed their own unique skills and contributed where they could.

  Grant oversaw the training and gave crash courses in hand-to-hand, cover and concealment, and squad-sized tactics. To the extent possible, he explained what he knew of the weapons used by the Minith
and gave in-depth discussions on the human arms of earlier, pre-Peace times. Tane had been sent to gather what weapons he could from museums, ancient armories, or private collections. Avery visited the prison to teach the men and women the intricacies of the Minith Mothership, as well as anything she could about the aliens' physical and psychological make up. It was a grueling period, stuffed with non-stop lessons, and everyone worked hard.

  While teaching the prisoners, Grant took the opportunity to talk with the inmates and increase his library of languages. He recruited more than a hundred men to their army simply by conversing with them in their native tongues. For several, Grant's words in their language were the first they had heard from another human since being sentenced to the prison. The prisoners soon looked up to him and welcomed his leadership.

  Grant spent most of his nighttime hours planning their assault on the Minith ship. He knew their only hope for defeating the Minith was in taking them at their ship. The aliens' spaceship served as both headquarters and living quarters. Except for those aliens who were out of the ship when they attacked, all of the Minith would be there, located in one place. Grant was certain the Minith had grown complacent and his previous successes at entering the ship were a direct result. He had penetrated their perimeter twice now without so much as a locked door, and suspected it would be more difficult the next time. The element of surprise was gone and he set his mind to finding a way of regaining it. The daily training continued uninterrupted but the problem was never far from his mind.

  At the end of each day, Grant watched the men and women of Violent's prison stumble back to their places of rest. Forgotten now were their arguments over territory or their positions within the prison's squares. They were brothers in arms, forged into a single force with a single goal: Liberate Earth. It was a good rallying cry and Grant heard remarks from several soldiers – for they were shaping up into good soldiers – about how the Earth and its citizens, who had locked them away from their society, now needed them to act as saviors of their world.