Peace Warrior

by Steven L. Hawk

  “Sir,” he announced.

  “Lieutenant,” Zal addressed quietly. “We have to stamp out the pests among the humans. Quickly.”

  “Yes sir. My soldiers have been working on locating the beasts who dared to stand up to their masters.”

  “And have you had any success?” Zal asked. He displayed none of the anticipation he felt to his subordinate. It would not be wise to show any fear or hesitation to one who was pledged to obey his orders.

  The lieutenant wavered for a fraction of a second before answering and Zal knew before the words left his mouth what the other’s answer would be.

  “Sir. We have been unsuccessful in locating them, however –“

  “HOWEVER WHAT?!” Zal shouted. The shout resounded about the room causing the lieutenant to stagger backward a step. “Are we so incompetent that a few sheep can hide from us? How can that be, Lieutenant?”

  “Sir,” the large Minith soldier offered weakly, “we are trying.”

  “Well try harder! I want these sheep found within two days, Lieutenant. I don’t care how you do it, but do it!”

  Zal trembled with rage. He was unused to the feeling of impotence that ran through him. To think that a few weak humans were trying to discredit him to his superiors and his warriors – and succeeding! It was more than any Minith, regardless of status, could tolerate.

  “Yes, sir.” The lieutenant bowed and began backing out of his commander’s presence.

  “Lieutenant,” Zal said, interrupting the other Minith’s departure. The lieutenant stopped and looked expectantly at Zal.

  “Sir?”

  “Destroy ten more human farms.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And see if any of our human ‘friends’ have any knowledge of what their more courageous brethren are up to. It is unlikely that they will know anything, but we cannot overlook the possibility.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  * * *

  The plan was put into motion and the time had come to play it to the end. The Outer Square was now crowded with people as the group of fifteen prisoner-soldiers prepared to leave.

  "Everything's ready, Grant." Mouse said as he loaded the last pack into the large carrier vehicle and turned to face his friend. Tane, Sue and the others were already on the vehicle and ready to go. The excitement among the group was palpable. With the exception of Sue and Mouse, this was the first trip out of the prison for all of them since their initial arrival.

  Grant hugged Avery a last time and turned to face Titan. The huge man, who had once controlled the entire prison, towered over the soldiers gathered in the Outer Square to see Grant and his party off.

  "You know what to do." Grant said, the words not a question but a statement. Titan nodded.

  "We will be fine, Grant. It's you and the others with you that I'm worried about."

  Avery turned from the group and walked away shaking her head. She had argued against Grant's plan, saying that it was suicide to return to the Minith ship.

  Grant, knowing that Titan agreed with her, told the other man, “It’s the only way. We have to destroy the ship.”

  “I know that, Grant, but let us do it together, in force.” Titan waved to the crowd gathered around them. They were well armed with the weapons Tane had brought and had been trained in their use. "We have an army to use."

  "And we'll use it, Titan, I promise you. But we cannot fight them on their terms."

  Grant did not want to get into the discussion again. They had already hashed this out and reached a decision. Fortunately, Titan did not press the subject again. He, like Grant, was probably tired of it.

  "Very well, then," Titan sighed. "Good luck to you."

  "Yeah, thanks. You too."

  At a nod from Grant, Mouse started the carrier. The six-hundred year old soldier looked around the Square a final time at the army he had helped create and, with a wave to the men and women standing there, he entered the carrier and closed the hatch. Thirty seconds later, they lifted into the air above the prison.

  Grant looked down. He saw Avery framed in the doorway to the First Square and waved. Either she did not see him or she was still angry, but she did not return his wave and he let the hand drop.

  "Let's go, Mouse," he said and quickly turned his thinking towards what they had to do.

  They traveled away from the prison barely ten feet off the ground and held that altitude until well away from the place. When the carrier was far enough away from the prison to prevent anyone who may have seen them from identifying the lone vehicle's point of origin, they rose to a normal altitude of a thousand feet and kept to it for nearly three hours. Then, when they neared their destination, they again dropped to a frighteningly low level and continued. A trip that could have been covered in just over an hour under top speed took them almost five hours. The adrenalin they had felt upon leaving the prison, but that had waned during the flight, returned at full throttle when they finally touched down.

  "Okay, folks," Grant pronounced, "this is where the fun starts. Everybody grab your pack and get out."

  The group did as they were instructed and lined up outside the carrier. Most waited patiently for Grant to tell them what to do next. Several busied themselves with checking and rechecking their weapons and equipment, and Grant recognized the signs of nervousness. Most new troops entering their first combat situation acted this way. Some acted outwardly calm, others were nervously busy. All were uncomfortable.

  He was not surprised by their reactions to the situation. Instead, he found the situation somehow soothing in its familiarity. He knew what was expected of him and did not hesitate. He gave no unnecessary commands, made no unnecessary speeches. He merely led.

  “Tane, did you deliver the Council’s orders like we discussed?”

  “I did, Grant.”

  “And?”

  “It went as well as you might expect. But there will be no problem. The orders will be followed.” Grant wished he could be as confident as the scientist. A key part of their plan was in someone else’s hands.

  “Well, it can’t be helped now. Take the craft and find a location a few miles away. Make sure it can’t be seen from the air. Wait for us to signal you on the radio. When we do, we’re probably going to be in a hurry, so be ready.”

  “Got it, Grant. I will be ready.” They shook hands and Tane returned to the pilot’s seat. A few minutes later, he and the carrier were traveling away, ten feet off the ground.

  "Mouse, take the rear. The rest of you, follow in single file. Don't get closer than five meters to the person ahead of you. And one more thing--" he said, hesitating to make sure everyone heard his next words clearly.

  "Make as little noise as possible."

  The men and women looked at each other knowingly. All were well aware of the Minith's superior hearing ability and their lives depended on not being heard. The need was simple: they would be quiet, or they would die.

  An hour later, Grant led them to a dry, narrow arroyo that he had spied on his previous hike to the Mothership. Though no more than ten feet across, the embankments on each side of the dry creek bed were almost six feet deep. The group scrambled down into the depression and, at a signal from Grant, sank quietly down.

  Ahead of them, not a mile distant, sat the immense Minith ship. For most of them, this trip marked their first view of the ship, but for Grant, Mouse and Sue, it was a known, if not welcome, sight. Grant had briefed everyone earlier on what was expected of them when they reached this point and the group settled into the cover that the creek bed provided without a word. Unsure of how long they would be there, some tried to get comfortable. Most, however, were too wound up and Grant noticed with satisfaction that several were silently checking their weapons for any problems that might have occurred on the march. Grant crept to each of the others to provide assistance if needed. To everyone, he gave encouragement.

  After making sure everyone else was in place and that
no problems had arisen, Grant settled down also. He kept his pack on and, taking a seated position, leaned back against it. He looked toward the Minith ship, the top of the massive vehicle still visible from this distance and angle. Like the others, he wondered how long they would have to wait.

  The waiting is the hardest part, Grant thought. He recalled the last mission with his team six hundred years ago. The one from which he had never returned. There was some similarity, he decided, looking around at the figures around him. Even after six hundred years, being a soldier still required a great deal of “hurry up and wait.” They had hurried to reach this site and now they waited for a sign to hurry on to their next destination, the alien ship.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  The interruption was unexpected and undesired. Zal had remained in his quarters since the receipt of Brun's message two days before. Other than an occasional message over the ship's communication system, Zal had talked to no one, seen no one, and entertained no one. It was not unusual for a commander to remain in seclusion during a wartime situation, and Zal chose to act as though he were at war with the humans. He had food, water, everything he needed in his plush commander's quarters and had no need or desire to leave. What few commands he had for his soldiers and guards were given electronically. His concentration was focused on the eradication of humans responsible for the rebellious acts that had been committed.

  Occasionally, a thought or two was given to what he would tell Brun if the situation was not taken care of before his superior's arrival but, for the most part, he still held the firm belief that he would be successful. He was not concerned for the Minith position here on Earth, but for his own. To think that a weak race of beings like these humans could pose any serious harm was unrealistic. But to think that they could ruin his career with their rebellious acts was a very serious possibility. If he did not stomp them out, and soon, he would be replaced.

  Zal let the visitor wait, as was his right as commander, and wished, not for the first time, that he could take care of the human problem in a manner he considered appropriate. But, although his Minith superiors would overlook a few slave deaths for the purpose of their troops' morale, they would not permit the scale of killing that needed to be done to teach these sheep a lesson. Soon after receipt of Brun's message announcing his visit, Zal received another message regarding the eradication of the human sub-farms. The message relayed the Minith Command's order that nothing was to be done which would interfere with the human's ability to meet their supply quotas. The message was sent as 'Priority Two’, which meant it could be read by anyone on the ship. And it specifically mentioned protection of the human food supply and sub-farms. The spies on board had again managed to communicate Zal's activities.

  The message effectively eliminated a course of action that would have ensured his success. Zal knew the humans would do anything to protect their farms. Now that leverage had been taken away by his superiors. He had to find another way to erase the putrid disease of discontent that currently tainted his human flock.

  Having made him wait outside long enough, Zal bade his visitor entry. Lieutenant Treel entered his commander's room as quietly as he had approached it five minutes earlier and bowed. Zal nodded in recognition of his subordinate. He was pleased to see the other soldier’s recognition of the proper protocols and hoped he had news of the human traitors.

  "Speak."

  "Sir, I have information regarding the slaves we seek."

  Zal stepped closer to his lieutenant, eager for the news.

  “Yes?"

  "Sir, as you suggested, I ordered our human informants to be questioned regarding those who attacked us."

  "And did they talk?" Zal's voice rose perceptibly with the excitement he felt. "What have you learned?" His eagerness for success overcame his need to appear uncaring in the presence of his subordinate.

  Treel tactfully ignored his commander's professional slip and answered eagerly. "Sir. One of the humans came forth of his own volition. He has told us a very odd tale. But one which could explain how the humans have been able to act so far out of character."

  "Ah? I would like to hear this 'odd tale' but first tell me what this human wanted for his information." Zal resisted the urge to hear the details of the human's information immediately. It would be unwise to show this lieutenant another sign of his concern over the human situation.

  "Sir, the human requested very little for his knowledge."

  At this revelation, Zal's leathered eyelids rose. Usually, humans who informed on their own kind wanted more of everything: more food, more clothing, a larger living space, human money. Of course, they never got everything they requested, but they were given enough to keep them coming back whenever they had information that they felt their masters would want to know. To find one who wanted little in return for something of such obvious importance was a curiosity indeed.

  "What did he want?"

  "Sir. He said... he said he wanted to return 'Peace' to his fellow humans."

  A smile crossed Treel's face as he relayed this information to his commander. The human race's desire for 'Peace' was a well-worn joke among the Minith. Minith could not understand the concept, but none of them failed to be grateful for the foreign idea either. It made their conquest of this world infinitely simple.

  "I see," Zal said, nodding. The concept of Peace was new to him but he recognized its unshakable hold upon these creatures. Until recently, he would have believed these humans incapable of resisting because of this concept, but something had occurred to change that, at least in a few of them.

  "Tell me what this human told you."

  "Sir, I... I took the liberty of bringing this human here. The story he tells is strange. There may be questions you have, and, excuse me for my presumptuousness, but there is also the Zone." The lieutenant bowed in deference to his commander's authority in the matter, but Zal did not rebuke him for his actions.

  "No, Lieutenant, you have performed admirably. If this creature's story is as odd as you describe, the Zone may be the very thing we need to determine its validity."

  "Thank you, sir." Treel relaxed visibly before asking, "Shall I bring the prisoner here, sir?"

  “No, no," Zal said. He had already spent enough time in seclusion. He headed for the door, relieved to have a diversion from his thoughts and a focus for his anger. "We shall speak with this human in the Zone."

  Treel followed his leader out the door and along the corridor. He remained a step behind and to the left of Zal and found he had to step quickly in order to keep up. They reached the Zone within minutes.

  The human male was already there when they arrived. The first thing Zal noticed was the man's ample size for a human, and he said as much to Treel.

  "Yes, sir," he answered in Minith. "He is apparently a human of some standing. He has no need of additional food as do many of our informants. Perhaps that is why he asked for so little in exchange for his story."

  "Perhaps." The human's fear at the arrival of the two Minith was apparent, even to Zal who had little direct contact with the species. He switched to Earth Standard language.

  "Speak, human. What is your name? And what can you tell me of the attacks on your masters?"

  “My… my name is Mr. Blue.” The human trembled, obviously frightened. He whispered words that Zal recognized a human Peace mantra.

  “Speak, human!”

  The fat man flinched, but began talking.

  Ten minutes later, the Minith Minister of Earth knew about Tane Rolan's experiment, the six-hundred-year-old soldier, and the efforts of the ancient soldier to train human recruits.

  He also knew why this overlarge human wanted nothing in return for his information. He had been ordered by the Human Leadership Council to tell everything they knew about the rebel humans. Apparently, they had had enough killing of their population and were ready to concede. It was also apparent that they had no means of
stopping the rebels themselves, and were coming to Zal for assistance in shutting down the rogue humans.

  Zal asked only one question. "Where is this training being done, human?" Blue's enormous belly jiggled as he strained to catch the whispered words.

  “They… they are preparing within the confines of Violent’s Prison.” He shrugged weakly then began to hyperventilate. His entire frame shook with each ragged breath he took.

  Zal simply stared at the creature's display, unsure of what, if anything, to say to the man. The human was a slobbering coward as well as a traitor to his race. Instead of saying anything to the pitiful heap of spineless flesh, he addressed Lieutenant Treel in Minith.

  "What do you make of this, Lieutenant?" The words were barely audible even to Treel. Mr. Blue was aware only of the look that passed between the immense monster and his equally sizable subordinate.

  "Sir," Treel began without hesitation. He had obviously given the matter some thought since first hearing the human's story. "I disbelieve in the existence of this 'ancient soldier' which the human mentions. It is impossible for such an accomplishment, especially for this weak race of slaves. I do, however, feel there may be a soldier among them who possesses the capability to stand up against our superiority, and who may be influential enough to recruit others to his cause. Who knows what stories this human has concocted to further his cause among his own? Perhaps the slaves will follow him more readily if they believe him to be of an earlier era. As you know, sir, these humans were once a warring people."

  Zal nodded at his lieutenant's words, but in fact had not known this bit of human history. It would have been counter-productive to show his lack of knowledge to his subordinate, however.

  Treel continued, "It is my belief that a lone human may be attempting to recruit, train and lead other members of his weak race against us."

  "Very good, Lieutenant," Zal conceded. "Anything else?"

  Treel contemplated briefly, had a thought. He cleared his throat in the Minith way, and spoke his mind.

  "Sir, it is my belief that humans possessing the courage we have witnessed can only come from one place on this world. This human’s assertion that the human prison is the source is likely accurate." The lieutenant stopped speaking at the sign of Zal's raised fist.