Peace Army

by Steven L. Hawk

  The realization that they were headed toward him splashed over Chor like a bucket of cold water. Of course they were headed toward him! What was he doing, sitting numbly in front of the monitor? His damaged shoulder throbbed and kicked. He fought through the mist robbing his brain of coherent thought.

  He should be doing something! But what?

  He yanked his attention from the monitor and tried to focus. It would do no good to alert the idiot. He would not know what to do and would likely piss himself when he saw what was on the monitor. Besides being an idiot, he was also a coward.

  Chor flinched. The first retorts from weapons being fired filtered into the room. The humans had reached his level. He thought it likely that his idiot boss might be pissing himself this very moment.

  He re-focused on the situation and wondered what he should do.

  Like a second bucket of cold water, it came to him. The other five mining bases might be able to send help. At the very least, he should alert them to the attack. Chor wondered why he had not thought of alerting them sooner.

  In a flash of clarity, he realized that he might not be any less of an idiot than his cowardly supervisor.

  The sound of firing was very close now, but Chor knew what he had to do. He opened a communication line to the other five bases.

  “We are under attack,” he began. “Humans have landed in a mothership and have attacked the base.”

  Chor labored over what else to include. The pain in his shoulder clouded his mind and colored his ability to think with dull, broad strokes of gray.

  “Humans,” he added. It sounded lame. And humorous. Humans did not fight. He started to laugh at the thought of humans attacking a Minith base.

  The sound of a rifle firing right outside his room brought him back to the here and now.

  “They are humans.”

  The door was kicked open with a crash and Chor looked up to see two of the attackers enter the room. The tiny ears and diminutive frames of the aliens seemed somehow funny. The fact that they were liberally spotted with purple blood and were pointing their weapons at him was anything but funny.

  “Humans.”

  His last word was punctuated by staccato bursts from both barrels. Chor was slammed backward against the wall. He stood for a long moment, then began a slow, slick slide to the ground. The pain in his shoulder had been replaced by a much more intense pain in his chest and gut. He looked down and saw purple liquid leaving his body. The two humans watched him slump to the left.

  Just before he died, Chor heard a response from the communications console.

  “Humans? Attacking?” came the reply. “Ha! That’s a good one, Chor.”

  Chapter 39

  “Humans?” Soo asked.

  Could it be? Could humans really have attacked a mining base on Telgora?

  He allowed the unbelievable train of thought to carry him to an even more outrageous question. Could they have been responsible for the attack on the home world?

  It seemed unlikely. Perhaps impossible, especially considering what he knew of humans. They were the most non-assertive, anti-aggressive race that had ever existed. They were sheep. Slaves. Unworthy of serious Minith military attention, even on their home world. To think they could launch an attack on a trained Minith force that occupied a hostile planet like Telgora was preposterous.

  The initial word coming from Telgora pointed to the sheep as a potential answer for the questions he had. However, it was more likely that another aggressor—perhaps the Zrthns—were to blame. They were smart. They were capable of launching an attack, then directing the blame toward the humans. Misinformation is a common tactic in war.

  If the Zrthns had made any mistake, it was pointing the finger at humans. Who would point a finger at such a weak-willed race of slaves? Only one who did not understand them. Did the Zrthns know anything about Earth? Soo decided to ask Rala when he saw her next.

  General Soo could not reach the primary base on Telgora, so he reached out to one of the secondary mining bases. They told him about the “prank” communication that had been delivered from the primary base the day before. At least, they had considered it a prank at the time. Now they were not so sure. No one from the primary base had responded to any attempt at contact since the “prank” message was sent.

  Soo had ordered the closest of the secondary bases to send a scouting force to investigate. Meanwhile, he had requisitioned a new mothership, fresh from the Waa assembly line. It was in the process of loading supplies, assembling weapons, and making final tests of important systems. In addition, Soo had begun to gather forces from the closest barracks and military bases to outfit the mothership.

  He was not taking chances. In his opinion, acting as if he was gearing up against a hostile force was a prudent step to take. Zrthns or humans, it made no difference. His reaction would be the same.

  Rala had made it clear. He was to protect the agsel mines on Telgora.

  * * *

  Standard procedure for the Minith posted to Telgora was very clear. Never leave the mining base. Ever.

  Tchok was thinking about standard procedure as he piloted a score of soldiers over the windswept plains.

  There was a good reason for holing up behind the walls of their base. Death waited outside. If the unforgiving heat, cold, or wind did not finish you, the natives would jump at the chance. The veteran miners readily shared dozens of stories about previously ill-fated journeys outside the protective walls they called home. They invariably included descriptions of doomed expeditions by well-armed, but hopelessly naïve, soldiers. And their pilots.

  The vehicle he flew was not hampered by the strong winds during this leg of the trip. The wind was at his back and pushed him quickly along the twilight side of the equator to the primary mining base. The trip back would be the brutal segment of their journey. Like paddling a boat upstream in a raging river, Tchok would be forced to confront the cruel winds head on.

  The pilot looked back to the warriors assembled in the open space behind his seat. They were experienced soldiers who had been handpicked by General Soo years ago. They looked fierce, but their ears twitched nervously against their heads. Fear was evident.

  Like Tchok, they knew this trip went against standard protocol. They had heard the same stories from the same veteran miners.

  * * *

  Conway saw the blip on her screen and sent an immediate message to the command comm line.

  “Incoming vessel.”

  She then offered hand signals to the team members to her right and left. They lay prone, assembled in a line on the west-facing wall of the base. Evenly spaced at intervals of ten feet, they had been in place for several hours, having taken over for the previous team.

  Their orders were simple.

  Observe the horizon for activity.

  Report all activity to the general.

  Defend the wall.

  Even though they were lying down, the wind blowing in their faces was fierce. None of them could look at the landscape in front of them for longer than a few seconds at a time. As a result, the use of motion sensors was critical. The sensors could detect incoming carriers from more than fifty kilometers.

  Conway checked the shoulder-fired missile she had been issued. It was locked, loaded, and ready for Minith.

  She looked to her left and right. Her team members were performing similar checks of their weapons. Most had the standard pulse rifles they had been issued prior to leaving Earth, but every tenth soldier—there were thirty soldiers on the wall—had a launcher like hers.

  Although Conway could not see behind her, she knew the fighter carriers were scrambling to take off and meet the incoming vehicle.

  She studied the blip on her sensor. It was a single vehicle and it was closing the gap very quickly. If the fighters did not get airborne soon, it would be up to her and her team to take out the Minith carrier.

  Conway felt a twinge of adrenalin and propped the weapon on her shoulder. She had a sudden,
foolish thought which turned into a twisted, foolish wish.

  She hoped the carriers did not make it into the air.

  She leaned into the force of the wind and rose. She settled comfortably into a kneeling position and took aim on the dot rushing toward her.

  * * *

  Tchok watched the walls of the primary base rise from the plains ahead. He had been told to record the flight and checked to make sure the vid was running.

  He briefly considered slowing the craft to make a cautious approach to the mine, but his Minith aggression overcame that cowardly consideration.

  Instead, he opted for a quick flyover.

  * * *

  Conway had the speeding carrier in her weapon’s sight mechanism. She received an aural signal that the missile was locked on the ship. She verified the visual lock and tightened her grip on the trigger mechanism.

  She took a full breath.

  Released half.

  Gently squeezed the trigger.

  The rush of the missile leaving the tube sent a powerful rush through her body. She fought the urge to look away from the target as her body flushed with a surge of adrenalin. She grinned as the missile tracked its way from the tube and streaked toward its target.

  * * *

  Tchok noticed a line of defenders lying along the top of the wall an instant before a flash pulled his attention to a single defender near the center of the line. This one was kneeling.

  The flash was attached to a streak. The streak was headed his way.

  During the three seconds it took for the streak to reach the carrier, Tchok shoved the ship into a violent turn to the left, checked the vid to ensure it was still recording, and recognized the kneeling defender as—human?

  Then the streak turned into a white-hot flash that gave way to angry, painful darkness.

  * * *

  The missile hit home and the Minith carrier exploded into a hailstorm of hot metal and fiery bits. The destruction rained down in a path that reached for the wall of the mining base.

  Conway stared in mesmerized fascination as the fiery particles stopped just short of reaching the wall.

  Instead, they rained down on the bleached-white bones of the Telgoran fighters that had come before.

  * * *

  Ten hours after its destruction, General Soo received the vid that had been transmitted from Pilot Tchok’s troop ship.

  “Humans,” was his shocked reply at seeing the footage.

  Chapter 40

  Grant boarded his command carrier and settled in for the twenty-minute hop from the mining base to where Patahbay and his people waited. This was his first trip to the Telgoran village where Titan, Gee, and Ceeray had spent five years.

  The work of cleaning up the facility so they could use it as their base of operations was progressing nicely. Consideration had been given to remaining with the mothership, but it had been ruled out. The cold was not conducive to long-term operations. Plus, the mining base was perfect for protecting the carriers and other vehicles that made up the human army on Telgora. The thick walls that had protected the Minith from Telgoran attack were now helping protect the human invasion force.

  While ninety percent of their vehicles had been moved into the mining base, a mix of defensive vehicles had been left behind. They were placed strategically around the mothership to provide protection. The ring of vehicles was probably not needed as the Minith had an aversion to cold, but Grant was not one to tempt fate, or the green-skinned aliens, by leaving their only ride off the planet unprotected. Gee was directed to remain with the ship and keep it ready in case they needed to make a quick getaway.

  The twenty-minute flight was rough, but passed quickly. The pilot kept the vehicle low to the ground and out of the worst of the headwinds. When they landed outside the mouth of a large cave Titan had marked as an entrance, the wind disappeared.

  Grant asked the pilot to stay with the carrier, checked the exterior for danger, then opened the hatch. The large, mounded cave opening provided a surprising degree of protection. Less than thirty meters to either side of the mound showed a wild mix of blowing sand and dirt. But here, directly in front of the cave entrance, it was quiet. Peaceful.

  “Pretty remarkable engineering, eh, Little Man?”

  Grant smiled and turned. Titan stood alone inside the mouth of the cave.

  “It helps that the wind always flows from the same direction. But, yes,” Grant agreed. “It’s impressive.”

  “Come this way,” Titan called. “The Family is anxiously waiting for your arrival.”

  The former Violent turned and headed in to the cave. Grant picked up his step to match the larger man and followed him into the tunnel beyond. The smooth walls and floor began to slope downward almost at once.

  Grant followed a half step behind Titan, not out of dereference—though he certainly respected the former prisoner—but out of a need to react to the numerous turns as they reached forks and intersections in the labyrinth of tunnels. Grant was impressed that Titan could negotiate the course, even after spending five years with the Telgorans.

  They met the first Telgoran after ten minutes in the tunnel. Grant recognized her as female from the wide yellow belt of leather she wore around her waist. He nodded to the female and silently thanked Ceeray for filling him in on Telgoran dress and customs before leaving Earth.

  The female fell in step behind them as they continued their trek downward. Before another five minutes had passed, more and more Telgorans met them and fell in behind.

  “The first time I was delivered to a formal shiale was like this,” Titan explained. “By the time we reached the gathering hall, there must have been two hundred Telgorans breathing down my neck.”

  “It is a bit disconcerting,” Grant said. He had been told what to expect, but the fact that he was on a distant planet, being trailed by dozens of friendly, sentient aliens, was a lot to handle. He felt small, insignificant, and lonely. He was a long, long way from home. Grant wondered briefly what Colonel Bishop, his former commander in the Democratic Federation Army, would have thought about this change of events. He expected the colonel would get a supreme kick out of the experience.

  Another five minutes brought them into the cavernous gathering hall.

  Titan stopped inside the entrance and waited for Grant to take in the enormity of the space, its eerily lit interior, and the thousands of Telgorans already assembled.

  Grant gaped. Titan laughed.

  “Yeah. I know what you’re feeling,” Titan empathized. “A bit overwhelming, huh?”

  “A bit,” Grant agreed with a nod.

  “It’s too early to nod, Little Man.” Titan nudged Grant forward, toward the center of the large hallway. “Patahbay will let you know when it’s time for that.”

  Grant had heard Titan’s stories about shiale and grew excited. He was about to witness another race exhibiting one of the prime manifestations of their culture. If that didn’t get your juices flowing, Grant didn’t know what would.

  He picked up the pace and made for the center of the hallway.

  * * *

  Six hours late, Grant had had his fill of shiale.

  As far as he was concerned, it was a useless custom that only aggravated, frustrated, and discouraged.

  He was a man of action. He was used to analyzing data quickly, settling on a decision, then committing himself and his forces to a plan.

  Unfortunately, the Telgorans were not.

  The interminable need to spoon-feed Patahbay and his people each small piece of his plan, then have them consider it, debate it, and nod over it was becoming intolerable.

  Grant had always considered Mr. Blue to be an unbearable bureaucrat. The supercilious administrator slowed progress at every turn by making sure every “t” was crossed, every “i” was dotted, and every rule remained intact and unsullied.

  When compared to the Telgorans, Blue was a no-nonsense, quick-thinking decision maker who got things done in record time.

&n
bsp; Grant took a breath.

  Released it.

  For the hundredth time, he reminded himself that these precious beings had developed on an angry world where the slightest misstep could end in death. Their need to consider each decision, regardless of its importance, was merely a by-product of their environment, a requirement of their evolutionary process. It was not their fault. Despite how frustrating it was for Grant, he could not blame them for their behavior. Instead, he fought to remind himself why he should admire them.

  They were survivors on a planet where survival should have been impossible.

  Grant took another breath. He flexed his shoulders and rolled his neck to relieve stress. He felt his blood pressure decrease.

  Then he saw Titan smiling at him knowingly.

  The Violent was getting a kick out of seeing him struggle against the Telgorans. He had doubtless found himself in the same position numerous times.

  He smiled in return, but his blood pressure ticked back up a notch or two.

  * * *

  Patahbay could not believe the good fortune. The Family had made significant changes to their lives—in such a short time! Never in their history had so many decisions been made in a single Gathering.

  The general was truly a great leader. The liberation of the Waa mining base was proof.