Peace Warrior

by Steven L. Hawk

  The prisoners had been informed of the Council's decision and they accepted their newly found responsibilities with a pride many of them had believed lost forever. Grant was honored to lead such a group and praised whatever fates had elected him to be in such a position. No longer was he angry with the gods for robbing him of his world or his place in time. It no longer bothered him that the legs, arms and whatever else had been replaced by Tane, were not his own flesh and blood. They had come through when he needed them and they were now his as much as his own extremities had ever been.

  And Avery.

  His mind relaxed, as it always did, when he thought about her. He loved her; there was no denying that now. And, as if his thoughts had somehow magically summoned her, she appeared from around the far corner of the square and made her way toward him. He watched her sightless approach, her left hand reaching out to the stone, her fingers never leaving the wall as she made her way. Several times before reaching him, others moved away from her path in deference to who she was and what she had been through. She was accepted as one of them, as well she should have been. Though she still refused to tell him how it came to be, she was once a prisoner here herself, Grant mused.

  Grant waited quietly and Avery stopped only a few feet away from him, her unseeing eyes seemed to look right at him.

  "Grant, how is the training going?"

  How in hell does she do that, he wondered. "It's going fine, Avery. We'll be ready soon."

  "Do we stand a chance, Grant? The aliens have well-armed soldiers who have been trained since birth for war. It hardly seems fair."

  "Yes. We have a chance, though not a good one. If we are to beat the Minith, we're going to need every soldier we can train and a hell of a lot of luck. It won't be easy, but we have to try."

  She stepped toward Grant and their hands met, held tightly. He pulled her to his chest and breathed in the scent of her hair. Holding her felt good, felt right. More right than he had ever felt.

  "It's as if they were put here for this, Grant. The men, the women, even the children whisper to each other that they will be heroes for fighting the aliens." Avery stepped backward, away from Grant's embrace, and turned her face up to his.

  "What will happen to them, Grant? I mean, if we win... after the fighting is over? What will they do then?"

  Grant looked away from Avery, unable to face her blind stare. How could he tell her what he did not know? Would these men and women live through the battle they faced? And if they did, would they be returned here by the society they were fighting to protect? It was an age-old problem shared by every army in history. What happened to the soldiers after the war? He had no good answer and said as much.

  "But, Grant, if the Minith are defeated, they will have earned their freedom. Most of these people have been here for years. Some for their entire lives. Grant, some were even born here."

  The way that Avery shivered when she made the statement cued something in Grant’s brain. Had she been born here? Was that how she had come to be in this place? He wanted to ask, but knew he could not. She would open up when the time was right.

  Avery hugged Grant even tighter than before and he felt the strength of her conviction in the problem they faced. "We've got to change it, Grant. If we can, we have to change it."

  "Avery, things can never be the same. Not after this.”

  He meant the words, and Avery seemed comforted by them, but Grant withheld telling her that, although things could never be the same, he did not know how the changes would affect the people of Violent's Prison. How would the rest of the world treat them, knowing that they were perpetrators of violence, even though the violence they committed was for the good of their race? Only time would tell. But first and foremost, they had to fight and win.

  "There's something else no one has considered, Avery. Something that may not allow the world to remain at Peace, whether we want to or not. The Minith are from out there," Grant explained. He pointed at the sky and, even though Avery could not see the motion, she nodded.

  "What's going to happen if we run these aliens off our world? Will they return with more soldiers and larger, more powerful weapons? By defeating the Minith now, will we be killing our world in the long run?"

  Grant paused. Breathed.

  He had not realized just how deeply he was being affected by his role in all of this.

  "Sometimes I ask myself, 'Are we doing the right thing?'"

  "Grant, you know the answer to that."

  He sighed heavily. The responsibility was a giant boulder that had been shoved uncomfortably onto his shoulders.

  "Yes, I know. We have to fight. There's no other choice except to die a slow death at the hands of those damn monsters."

  "Exactly. At least this way, even if we lose, it will be because we tried. It won't be because we rolled over and let them kill us."

  They stood silently for a few long minutes, holding each other. Grant felt some of the tension drain from his body with the embrace and he knew that whatever happened tomorrow or next week, or even next year, they had each other now, and that was enough.

  "Come on," Grant said, breaking the silence. "Let's get some rest." He took her hand and led her toward their small room in the Outer Square. The night was young enough for what he had in mind and the Minith could wait.

  * * *

  Grant dreamed of the frozen lake. In the dream, the enemy shot him long before he reached the hole in the ice and he lay unable to move, at the mercy of the men above. The enemy soldiers took shot after shot, laughing all the while, and Grant cried in horror as his arms were erased from the rest of his body piece by bloody piece. Grant would have looked up in defiance of his tormentors but his face was frozen securely to the lake's icy cover. Unable to move, he shut his eyes tightly against the only sight his frozen countenance allowed: the ice in front of him. The ice was littered with bits of his own flesh and large splashes of his dark red blood.

  CRAAACK!

  A cackle of laughter erupted from the watchers above with the latest shot as another chunk of Grant's body was wiped away.

  CRAAACK!

  Another shot, another burst of laughter.

  CRAAACK!

  More laughter, but Grant sensed a change in the sound, a change that seemed somehow sinister and terrifying.

  CRAAACK! Although the joy of the sport was still in the laughter, the voices were not as abundant or as boisterous as before.

  CRAAACK! Grant's body jerked with the impact of the shot and the laughter came again, even stranger than before. It was a 'whispered' laughter, heard only because it was carried on the wind.

  CRAAACK!

  No laughter. A minute passed without another shot. Five minutes and still no shot rang out. Grant wondered if the soldiers had grown bored. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the ice and his hopes fell, crushed like a newborn kitten beneath the treads of an ancient tank. The animals had descended from the road above, had come to collect their reward.

  Grant pried open his near-frozen eyes and saw the feet of his tormentors not three feet away. To his horror, they were not the booted feet of his human enemies. They were the misshapen, leathered feet of the Minith.

  Grant opened his mouth to scream --­

  -- and awoke next to Avery, the scream still on his lips. He bit back the panic and swallowed the sound. His heart thundered with the fear he had felt and he tried to slow its beat while his mind raced. Something had caused him to wake up and it had not been the dream.

  Grant looked quickly around the small room. He saw nothing out of the ordinary in the dim light of early morning but heard steps in the corridor outside. Within seconds, the dream was forgotten and Grant was out of bed. The sound of footsteps approaching had replaced those of the soldiers in the dream. He grabbed his boots and found Mouse waiting outside the door.

  "What's wrong, Mouse?"

  "Nothing is wrong, my friend. But Tane just arrived at the
Outer Square and he asked me to bring you there."

  "Tane's back? I didn't expect him for a few days. Did he get what I asked for?" Grant pulled his boots on and laced them quickly.

  Mouse shrugged. "Perhaps. He arrived in a cargo carrier."

  "Yes, well, he'd better if we're to have any chance. Those damn monsters are better equipped than we are."

  Grant re-entered the small room while Mouse waited patiently outside. Avery was still asleep on the small pallet they had shared for the past few days and Grant smiled lovingly down at her peaceful form. He kissed her lightly on the forehead and left the room.

  “How is she?" Mouse asked, his voice quiet so as not to wake her. Everyone had come to care for Avery, both for who she was as a person and for what she had been through. She stood as a symbol to the men and women of the prison that freedom was possible... freedom from Violent's Prison and from the Minith.

  Grant understood how Avery was viewed by those around him. But to him she was more than a symbol of hope. She represented everything about humankind that was worth saving. He tried not to let his emotions interfere with his responsibilities but it was difficult, more difficult than he would have believed. He had never been in love and the emotions he carried inside were like a puzzle he could not figure out. He wondered how long the confusion he felt would last.

  "She's fine, Mouse. The work tires her out, but she keeps going when others couldn't. She’s very strong."

  "Yeah, she'd have to be to make it through what she has."

  Five minutes later, Grant and Mouse stepped into the Outer Square. Grant saw the scientist leaning against the large cargo vehicle. Tane had his eyes closed. Fatigue was etched clearly across his features.

  The rest of the Outer Square was empty. The men who had previously occupied it had gravitated toward the inner squares once the prohibitions against doing so had been eliminated. Now that the prisoners possessed a common enemy, they no longer had to commit violence upon each other. Their preparations against the aliens provided an effective outlet for any aggressions they felt.

  Grant shook Tane gently. The scientist opened his eyes slowly and smiled when he recognized Grant.

  "Grant. How are you," he asked wearily.

  "Very well, thanks to you. Did you get what I asked for?" Tane smiled even wider and Grant knew the other man had been successful.

  "Look inside."

  He nodded toward the rear of the carrier and followed as Grant made his way around to the cargo doors. Grant opened the large compartment and looked in on several large metallic containers. He looked at Tane and laughed.

  "Tane! My friend, you never cease to amaze me!" Grant hoisted his large frame into the vehicle and ran a hand over one of the containers. "Did you get everything?"

  "Just about. What I couldn't get, I substituted for, but I think you'll be pleased!"

  Tane was obviously pleased with his accomplishment and justifiably so, Grant thought. He took a deep breath, released the two latches on the first crate, and raised the lid. He gazed into the container and whistled. Mouse, his curiosity piqued, stepped into the carrier and peered into the container.

  "Damn! Grant, is all this for us?" His voice carried the excitement he felt at the contents of the container.

  "Fuckin' eh, Mouse! Fuckin’ eh!"

  Grant reached into the metal crate and removed one of the items from inside. He hefted it in his hands and caressed it like a long lost love. It was one of many in the crate; and exactly like the one that had taken his hands and feet from him over six hundred years before.

  Like a deer catching wind of the hunter's scent, Grant remembered the previous night's dream and dropped the weapon like a red-hot poker. It clattered noisily and came to rest beside the others. He wiped his – not his really, he thought, but Tane's – hands on his pant leg but the unease left by the touch of the rifle remained.

  "Oh, Grant. I almost forgot," Tane said, oblivious of Grant's sudden discomfort. "There was plenty of special ammunition available for these. I brought it along also."

  "Really? What kind?" Grant asked, already knowing what answer he would get.

  "The literature with it described it as 'explosive'. It's supposed to be the best for..." Tane swallowed the unease he felt. Violence was still an uneasy concept for him.

  "...for killing," he finished.

  Grant turned away from the weapons and left the interior of the carrier.

  "That's great, Tane." Grant's voice died off and neither Tane nor Mouse heard his final words. "It's good for maiming, also."

  Mouse and Tane were clamoring over the other boxes like children on Christmas morning as Grant walked away. He suddenly wanted to be with Avery and hoped she was not yet up.

  He began the slow walk through the square, his mind once again drawn to the problem of regaining the initiative against the enemy. He marveled at the architecture of the prison as he walked and wondered at the men who had conceived this place. Without a doubt it was a marvel of stone and mortar, but the more Grant walked its halls the more convinced he became that the place was initially designed to be a castle or fort of some type. Whoever had turned it into this prison had used its strengths and eliminated its weaknesses. It was now the perfect prison.

  He reached his room and found Avery still asleep. He lay down beside her and stretched. The bones and joints in his new limbs did not creak and pop as his old ones would have and he rued the loss briefly. Avery stirred but did not awaken and Grant rolled over to hug her. Her back was to him and he pulled her tightly to his body where she snuggled against him warmly. Grant, aroused by her closeness, became hard quickly and Avery could no longer sleep as his erection pressed against her back. She moaned softly and turned to face him.

  "You left me," she mumbled sleepily as she reached down, grabbed his hardness.

  "Yes. But I'm back now." The pleasure her hand created made him close his eyes and he kissed her deeply as his hand sought her breast.

  "So I see," she managed between their urgent kisses.

  "What else would--"

  Grant bolted up into a sitting position so quickly, his head began to spin. "Grant? What's wro--"

  "Shhh!," he interrupted. The revelation had come to him unexpectedly, like a bolt of lightning from a cloudless sky, and, except for the bad timing, he welcomed it without hesitation. He examined the idea for a few brief seconds before knowing that it was possible. He knew what they had to do.

  "I'm sorry, Avery," he offered, unsure of how she would react. "I've got to go."

  "You're leaving? Now?" she asked incredulously. Grant merely nodded an unseen apology and began to get dressed again.

  "Is it what you've been struggling with these past few days?"

  Grant looked at her and marveled once more at her ability to see to the heart of things.

  "Yes. It is," he answered.

  "Okay. I understand," she said, and Grant knew that she really did understand. "As long as it's not me that's driving you away," she added playfully.

  "Never, Avery. Never." He knelt to kiss her goodbye and was quickly off to the Outer Square.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The Minith commander heard the muted sound of boots approaching and fumed at the guard's inability to approach his quarters in silence. The idiot's attempt at stealth failed miserably and Zal snarled. His soldiers had been pussyfooting around him since the human's attack on his ship and their efforts to keep out of his way only served to anger him further. The soldier stopped just outside his door and the Minith leader waited impatiently for the guard to find the courage to announce his presence. Finally, there was a soft tap on the door.

  "Enter!" Zal commanded brusquely. The command seemed to shake the large purple room. The guard entered his commander's quarters, the shout ringing in his overlarge ears. He kept his eyes on the floor as he waited to be addressed.

  "What do you want?"

  "Sir, there is a message from General Brun," the large g
uard offered as he handed a folded sheet of paper to his commander. Zal saw that the message was printed on Priority One leaf and took it with some hesitation. He had no idea why his predecessor, who was now his superior, would transmit a priority message to him...unless word of the attack on the ship had somehow leaked out. He cursed the fact that he had not had sufficient time to seek out the spies Brun had undoubtedly left behind. He searched the messenger's countenance for an indication of the page's contents but the other showed no emotion other than the fear he had entered with.

  He turned his back on the guard and read the message silently.

  BEGIN PRIORITY ONE MESSAGE

  ATTENTION: COMMANDER OF MINITH FORCES, PLANET EARTH ZAL: THERE IS RUMOR OF REBELLION ON EARTH. I HAVE CONFIDENCE IN YOUR ABILITY TO RESOLVE THIS MINOR INCONVENIENCE. I WILL ARRIVE IN THREE DAYS TO OBSERVE. GEN BRUN

  END PRIORITY ONE MESSAGE

  If the idiot had confidence, why was he coming? Zal crumpled the message angrily, thankful only for the fact that no one on earth other than he and this guard had seen the message. All Priority One messages were delivered directly by the operator on duty and no eyes other than the Commander’s were allowed to see it. Even with spies on board, this regulation would never be broken. Allegiance to a former superior was allowed and to communicate ongoing events to such an individual was not questioned, but to disobey a standing order or regulation was unheard of among the Minith posted to captured worlds.

  “Forget you have seen this message,” Zal commanded, remembering the presence of his underling. The other nodded and, recognizing his dismissal, left his commander’s quarters.

  Zal cursed beneath his breath. Brun had no confidence in his abilities to handle this weak uprising among these weak creatures.

  “Well,” he muttered, “I’ll just have to have this settled before the fool arrives.” He summoned one of his personal guards, a soldier he knew he could trust. A few minutes later, a tap announced his visitor’s arrival and his leathered lips turned upward in a smile-like fashion. Unlike the messenger, he had not heard the other’s approach.

  “Enter.”

  Lieutenant Treel, the lieutenant who had been with him for blood sport at the human farm and who had been sent to “warn” the human Leadership Council entered the room and bowed.