Peace Army

by Steven L. Hawk

  As if reading his mind, Avery turned him toward her and planted a kiss on his cheek. Grant wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He was glad for her presence and for her ability to make him a better human in all respects. Adding color to the gray walls of their apartment, after their discussion a couple of night earlier, was just like her.

  He returned her kiss to his check with a tender touch of his lips to hers. The tenderness of the touch grew into something more heated—something Grant had learned to understand and appreciate over the past few years.

  “Okay, Mom! Finished!” Eli called from behind the curtain.

  “Rats. Will the interruptions never end?” Grant joked. Avery pulled back and ran a hand across his face.

  “You hush. He’s worked on this all afternoon,” Avery chided. “And you will like it.”

  Grant heard the emphasis on the word “will.” It was followed by a downward tip of her chin and a slight raise of her left eyebrow. Grant recognized the look—the one that let him know she would accept no argument or debate.

  “Yes, my love,” Grant humbly acknowledged. He knew the rules.

  Avery pulled the blanket aside and Grant stepped bravely into—

  —a purple room.

  Minith purple, to be exact. The color matched the color Grant remembered from the Minith mothership; the color they had used in Treel’s room (cell). It was the purple the aliens preferred in their living spaces. Of all the colors Eli could have chosen, he selected the one he knew the best.

  “Just like Treel’s room, Dad!” the youngster declared. “Do ya like it?”

  Grant felt Avery’s grip on his upper arm tighten.

  “Uh… yeah, son. Looks great.” Grant tried to put some excitement in his voice but couldn’t quite make it up that mountain. “Purple, huh?”

  “Yeah! Just like Treel’s room!”

  Grant tore his eyes away from the purple walls and looked at his son. He stifled a laugh. Eli had as much paint on his clothes and skin as he had on the walls. He was covered in liberal splashes of purple.

  Grant suddenly didn’t care about the color. It was what his son wanted, and he knew Eli missed the big alien. Knew it was probably why he had chosen the color. He couldn’t visit Treel now, so the paint was a small way for the boy to be close to someone he considered his friend.

  “I love it, son. Did you paint it all by yourself?”

  “Mom helped with the high spots. I did the low ones.” Eli’s smile lit the purple room and Grant noticed a top right tooth missing.

  “Hey, you lost the tooth!”

  “I was going to tell you, Grant,” Avery explained. “But we wanted that to be a surprise as well.”

  “Well, you guys are just full of surprises today, huh?” He swept up Eli, paint and all, in a giant hug and swung the boy up to his hip. He was almost too big for the maneuver, but Grant managed.

  “I’ve got a surprise of my own,” Grant declared. He winked at Avery. “Want to see?”

  “Sure! Is it for me?” Eli shouted and wriggled to get down. Grant held him deftly with one hand and lowered him to the floor.

  “Yep. On the table, son.”

  Eli ran into the other room and grabbed the package from the table. It was wrapped in plain paper. The stack of chairs swayed briefly and then settled.

  “Eli, be careful.” Avery expressed her disapproval at her son’s excitement.

  “Here, let me move those before someone gets hurt,” Grant offered. He picked up the chairs and set them on the floor as Eli tore into the package. He pulled out the metal contraptions and set them on the table.

  “What are they, Dad? They look like weird shoes.”

  “In my time, we called these weird shoes ‘roller blades.’”

  Grant was more excited than he could remember being for a long time. He unstacked the chairs, sat down, and picked up the larger of the two pairs of roller blades Tane and his team had built. For never having seen or heard of them, Tane did a more-than-adequate-job of building the wheeled boots to Grant’s specifications.

  He had asked for two pairs—one for him and another for Eli. He told Tane to be ready with a third set in case Avery expressed an interest.

  “Rolla blades?”

  “Roll-er blades,” Grant corrected as he kicked off his boots and slipped his feet into the wheeled shoes. “Go ahead and put yours on. We’re gonna take these things out for a trial run.”

  “Suh-weet!” Eli pumped his right arm up and down, then plopped down to the floor and tugged at his own pair of boots.

  “Grant, are those things safe?” Avery asked. The motherly concern in her voice gave him pause, but only for a moment. He wanted this time to be memorable for Eli.

  “Um. Sure, hon,” Grant replied, suddenly unable to look his wife in the eye.

  He doubted there would be a need for the third pair.

  * * *

  Despite a few bruises, they had a blast once Eli caught on and could control his blades. The boy was a quick study, as always. After the first thirty minutes, most spent teaching Eli how to stop safely, the five-year-old could keep up with the easy pace set by Grant.

  They spent the next thirty minutes terrorizing and entertaining the soldiers and civilians working in the former prison, none of whom had ever seen anything like the roller blades.

  Eli got a kick out of rolling quickly up on unsuspecting individuals and tapping them on the leg as he flew past. The surprised yells and sideways jumps were priceless and Grant soon joined in. Eli would tap-pass someone on the left and, as the stunned person watched Eli roll quickly away, Grant would repeat the maneuver on the right. Grant felt weightless and free for the first time in years as he watched his son weave in and out between the surprised residents of the Outer Square.

  Grant called a halt to the tap-pass game after Eli scared a middle-aged woman carrying a tray of dishes outside one of the large chow halls. The result was not pretty. Although she was dressed in the gray overalls of a civilian worker, the biting stare she sent Grant’s way told him she was a soldier at heart. The piercing look held little Peace, despite the mantra she repeated over and over. Grant apologized profusely as he and Eli helped the woman clean up the mess of broken plates and glasses.

  Once the mess was cleaned, Grant and Eli sped away from the scene. Grant had his tail planted firmly between his legs. Eli, on the other hand, seemed to think the episode was hilarious. Once out of the old woman’s sight, he laughed and chatted excitedly about the experience and the woman’s reaction to their game.

  Grant committed every second of the outing to memory. He hoped Eli would remember this time together with the same clarity and joy that his dad would.

  As they headed back to their quarters, they approached one of the boys’ orphanages located in the giant building. Many of the children living there would become the future soldiers of Earth. The transition from kids into fighters was still years down the road, but the fact that it might be needed at all made Grant’s heart ache. It was a situation he both deplored and understood. He deplored the fact that these kids had been abandoned by parents too weak or cowardly to do what needed to be done to save their race. His parents would never have consigned him to such a fate, had they been given a choice. But he also understood that the parents’ weakness was no fault of their own. It was a result of the society in which they had been raised. This was a double-edged sword, and he hated that the Minith had forced them to wield it.

  As he and Eli neared the orphanage, Grant saw a half dozen or so youngsters posted outside the entrance. He knew the young groups kept lookouts posted and had always encouraged the practice. This was the first time he had seen them jump into action, though. At a nod from one of the older boys, two of the younger kids ducked into the entrance and shouted a call.

  “Eli, let’s stop here,” Grant called out, slowing his pace.

  “Okay, Dad,” Eli agreed. He turned his body in to the sideways sliding stop that he was working to perfect and execut
ed it smartly. “Suh-weet!”

  Grant smiled and pulled up to the growing crowd of boys. They ranged in ages from five to twelve and were obviously excited at the foreign sight he and Eli provided. It wasn’t often that they experienced anything new or exciting, and two humans—one a boy—riding on wheeled shoes certainly filled the bill. They pointed and laughed, but respectfully kept their distance. Most of them knew who Grant was and, for those who didn’t, the rank on his green uniform let them know he was someone important in the fight against the alien Minith.

  “Are you General Justice?” one of the younger boys asked. In response, he received a smack to the back of his head from one of the older kids.

  “Of course he is, dimwit,” the older chastised. The look he gave warned of additional violence if the younger boy spoke up again. Grant watched in dismay as the questioner and several other boys cast their eyes to the ground.

  “Actually, that’s a darn good, question, son,” Grant replied. The younger boy looked up eagerly and Grant met his gaze with a nod. He then turned his attention to the older boy and looked him in the eye.

  “In my day, it was commonly known that the only dumb question was one that didn’t get asked.” It was the older boy’s turn to look downward. It was apparent that he was not used to anyone countering his proclamations. Grant guessed he was the leader of this group.

  “I’m General Justice, and this is my son, Eli.”

  Eli waved to the group, smiled, and did a perfect 360-degree spin. The boys hooted and laughed. A couple of them turned circles of their own, without blades. Grant heard several cries of “what are those” and “those are awesome” and “whoa!”

  “Pretty cool, huh?” Eli asked as he performed another spin.

  “Cool?” the leader asked. “Is that what you call them?”

  Grant laughed. “Nah, these are called roller blades. ‘Cool’ is just something we used to say when I was younger,” he explained. “It means that something is new and exciting.”

  “Yeah. As in ‘these roller blades are cool,’” Eli explained. Grant knew Eli was used to his anachronisms and his use of ancient phrases, but it was kind of “cool” to see his son explain them to someone.

  “Cool,” the leader agreed.

  “What’s your name, son?” Grant asked the leader.

  “Jonah.”

  “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Jonah.” Grant leaned down and held out his hand. Jonah just stared at the proffered appendage.

  “You’re supposed to grab it and shake it,” Eli explained. He rolled over to the younger boy who had received a smack from Jonah earlier, grabbed his right hand, and pumped it twice. “Like this.”

  The younger boy smiled and returned the handshake. Grant knew that Eli had just made a friend.

  All eyes turned to Jonah as he slowly reached up and took Grant’s hand. He imitated the two pumps.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, General Justice.”

  Grant grinned at the formal Standard speech. Jonah had good manners, which was a promising sign.

  “Great. Now that we’ve got some of the introductions out of the way, I think it might be a good idea for you boys to try roller blading. Would you like that?” Grant asked.

  He was met by a chorus of shouts and cheers.

  When the initial excitement died down, Grant explained that the only roller blades in existence were the pairs he and Eli wore. However, he promised to talk with Senior Scientist Tane Roland the next day and assured them that they would get their chance to roller blade soon.

  The group then spent ten minutes checking out his and Eli’s blades. Eli showed them what he could do after only an hour or so of blading, and they were all hooked. Without exception, the boys seemed excited about the possibility of wearing blades of their own.

  While Eli demonstrated his new talents, Grant pulled Jonah aside for a private discussion. It was time to begin Leadership Training 101.

  “Respecting your subordinates” was the topic.

  * * *

  The experience at the orphanage reminded Grant of his teen years. It also gave him something else to worry about.

  By the time he and Eli returned to their quarters, he knew it was important that they raise the boys and girls in the orphanages in a more structured manner. They were cared for by competent adults and received formal schooling, but the incident with Jonah was a clear indicator that something was missing. The older kids were already leading their groups. It just wasn’t structured, positive leadership. That would need to change.

  From his personal experiences as a young boy, Grant knew the groups needed organized activities to keep them occupied. Hanging around their quarters, with no outlet for their energy, was a powder keg waiting for a match. Fortunately, that problem was a bit more manageable. A large stretch of the Fourth Square was currently unoccupied. It would be a perfect place to set up an area where the orphans, and anyone else who felt so inclined, could rollerblade to their heart’s content.

  For the second time in less than two hours, Grant’s entry into his home was met by the sight of fresh blue paint. The colorful walls warmed his heart and stoked the feelings he held for his wife.

  The walls also gave him another idea.

  Paintball.

  Why couldn’t they set up a paintball area as well? The open area in the Fourth Square was large enough. That would give the children an outlet for fun while helping them learn teamwork and develop tactical skills.

  Grant’s thoughts ran to other activities they could put together with some help from Tane’s R&D team: bicycling, skateboarding, Frisbee, golf. The possibilities were numerous, and all would help the orphans expend energy, increase physical fitness, and foster competition.

  There was only one problem.

  Who would want to oversee the program? You couldn’t just toss a bunch of kids into such an area without supervision or direction.

  Grant put Eli to bed and joined Avery in their bedroom. He flopped tiredly onto the bed and looked at the walls of the small room. Forest green. It was his favorite color and another surprise from Avery. She never stopped.

  He looked to where she sat in front of a small mirror. She ran a brush slowly through her hair—it was a part of her nightly pre-bed ritual.

  Grant mentioned his idea about setting aside part of the Fourth Square to Avery. She thought it was an excellent idea. He also mentioned the problem of finding someone to manage it, and she surprised him once again.

  “I can do it,” she volunteered.

  “Really? Do you have time for that?”

  “Grant, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” she teased, “but our little boy is not so little anymore.”

  “He’s only five.”

  “He will be six soon. And if I know Eli, he will want to spend all his time in the Fourth Square. Especially since he can’t visit Treel any longer. He’s going to need another outlet. I think it’s perfect.”

  Grant considered her words and recognized that she was correct, as usual.

  “You’re going to need help, hon. We have a lot of kids here.”

  “We’ll set up a schedule. Rotate the groups in regularly,” Avery said. The brush flowed through her hair slowly. Grant could tell that her mind was already working on the issues, ironing out wrinkles and solving problems.

  “I’ll get Sue to help.”

  “Sue?” Grant asked. “Won’t her flight training get in the way?”

  Sue was Mouse’s wife and a pilot on one of his top carrier fighter teams. She and Mouse were a team in Violent’s Prison and had stayed together after their formal release. They had been married almost as long as Grant and Avery.

  “Not now,” Avery said. The beginnings of a smile forced the edges of her mouth upward. She put the brush down and turned toward Grant. He was struck by the full effect of her radiance as her smile turned into a grin. She moved toward the bed and held her hands over her tummy. “She’s going to have other things to focus on for a whi
le now.”

  It took Grant a moment, but he suddenly understood and laughed.

  Mouse and Sue had been trying to have a baby for years with no luck. Less than a month before, Mouse had confided to Grant that he didn’t know if it would ever happen.

  “Oh, that’s great! Does Mouse know yet?”

  Avery laughed and lay down beside Grant.

  “She’s probably telling him the news right now.”

  Chapter 7

  The topic of the approaching Minith ship dominated the daily Command Meeting, as usual. The difference between this and previous discussions was now the apparent presence of Titan on the ship. Titan’s single communication with Earth had been short and succinct. He was landing at the previous site of the Minith mothership, and there were no Minith on board.

  While it was a relief to most of those in the command meeting that the ship didn’t hold thousands of Minith warriors, there were a lot of unanswered questions. Was Titan alone? Where had he been for the past six years? And most important, had he succeeded in destroying the alien’s home planet?

  There were just too many things they did not know.

  As a result, Grant was taking a cautious approach. While he hoped the former leader of Violent’s Prison was on board and in control of the alien vessel, he wasn’t going to accept it on blind faith. He knew from his earlier dealings with the Minith, and through his interactions with Treel, that they were an intelligent, aggressive race. They could be pulling a Trojan horse, for all he knew. It wasn’t the smartest play on their part, but it was certainly possible.

  Regardless, he planned to arrive at the landing site with a full battle contingent. All would be armed and ready to rock and roll.

  He provided the orders to his subordinates, who would set that plan in motion. Several had questions on deployment matters, which he patiently answered. He took no shortcuts in his explanations, issued no reprimands for uncertainty. It was imperative that they understood what was expected of them and their forces.