Son of Justice

by Steven L. Hawk

  And it was.

  Until—suddenly—it wasn’t.

  The ancient Zrthns nearly went extinct as a result.

  It was the need for food that first drove them from the waves onto the dry, arid land that existed above. At first, they could only live for a short period out of the water, but it was enough time to hunt for food. When the food near the water’s shores disappeared, they reached out tentacles farther inland, and the process of growth repeated itself. This expansion was aided by evolution, and in time, the Zrthn eventually left their barren, watery existence behind for good.

  Eventually, the ever-present hunger for expansion required the race to turn their attention to the stars, because space was the only truly boundless expanse that could meet their need to hunt, consume, and grow. Their initial forays beyond their home planet revealed other worlds, worlds with great reserves of resources that were important for continued growth. Finding food was no longer a need, but that didn’t lessen their appetite for excess, which drove them forward and outward.

  As they encountered other species, they quickly realized they weren’t the strongest, quickest, or most intelligent race. They were adaptable, though, which led them to develop methods for gaining what they needed with the least amount of effort. Somewhere along their journeys, they learned the principles of the barter system and quickly discovered the benefits of growth through nonviolent means. Within a generation, they established a culture centered on achievement of goals through trade, contracts, and negotiations. They still used force and violence when needed, but it became a secondary tactic, something to fall back on when the ideals of commerce failed.

  It is common knowledge among sentient races that successful trade relies on the principles of supply and demand. Resources, goods, and services that are in high demand, yet are limited in supply, fetch the greatest prices. Controlling high demand items provides leverage in negotiations and can often be used to influence agreements or dictate favorable contractual terms.

  For space-faring races, one thing is cherished above all others: agsel. The ore makes faster than light space travel possible.

  Chapter 7

  “How did this race ever defeat us, Brek?”

  Sergeant Twigg received only a bored grunt for a reply. Hadn’t expected much more. The view outside the watch tower showed the same flat, sand and rock-covered terrain that they had been staring at for years. The inside of the tower was stark, with two desks and the monitoring equipment that would provide updates on the humans they were tasked with watching over. Neither of them really cared to monitor the pale beings, though. There was no need really. They had never been surprised by anything the sheep ever did on this particular exercise.

  Cycle after cycle of training the human sheep had sapped their energy. Each day was a repeat of the drudgery, monotony, and boredom that had become their companions. They were Minith. They were born to fight, conquer, and subjugate lesser races. Yet, here they sat. Babysitters, relegated to a foreign world, without the possibility of a battle or the satisfaction of victory. Twigg recalled what life had been like before the home world had been destroyed and their mighty race conquered by such weak specimens as humans. They had once ruled the worlds that now belonged to the so-called “Shiale Alliance.” His spirit longed for a return to those days. What little satisfaction he now received came on days like this. And little satisfaction it was.

  “Which group is up next?” Twigg asked Brek.

  It was the other sergeant’s responsibility to track the recruits on the vid screen and report on their positions. Although they couldn’t see the humans in the distance, electronic monitoring of their location was accomplished via a pacer device, and projected onto a holo-screen that sat atop the desk where Brek sat. As Twigg watched, Brek straightened in his chair to view the data. A sudden spark of life flashed in the other sergeant’s eyes, and before the words left his snout, Twigg knew which group was preparing to initiate the training exercise.

  Jayson.

  “The young human who nearly bested you in the ring is in this grouping,” Brek confirmed.

  The twitch of ear that accompanied the remark informed Twigg that his fellow warrior was having fun at his expense. He growled menacingly in reply, which caused the other’s ears to twitch even faster. The heat rising in his chest nearly caused him to jump the table where Brek sat and beat the twitch from those ears, but he pushed back against the rage and angrily swallowed the desire.

  “Careful, Brek,” he cautioned. “Your humor won’t last longer than the reach of my boot.”

  “Perhaps,” Brek responded. “But I have boots as well.”

  The two Minith giants stared at each other for several seconds, each waiting to see if the other’s words were more than an idle threat. After years of jostling for position and supremacy, they had never really tangled to determine who the true alpha was. But each knew it was simply a matter of time.

  With a final growl, Twigg turned away and looked out the viewing window of the watch tower, his gaze fixed on the landscape ahead. It was a barren land. Sun-bleached sand and rock covered every inch of the rolling, hilly terrain. If he stared east or west, he could pretend the entire planet was covered by similar land. A casual look to the north or south, however, and the differences became quickly apparent. To the south lay the ever-present sun. If you moved far enough in that direction, you would eventually find yourself walking across lakes of baked sand, flat and smooth as glass, or skirting a pool of melted rock and agsel. To the north, it was the opposite. The lack of sun in that direction turned the landscape into a frozen wasteland of ice. Either direction carried death to those that ventured too far from the equator.

  He could not see his human charges in the distance. The five kilometers that separated them was simply too far. But he knew they’d arrive soon enough. The exercise they were conducting guaranteed it. Sometimes they arrived in formation, sometimes at a run, other times creeping slowly from rock-to-rock. Regardless of how they approached, though, he and his warriors always saw them. Saw them, and “killed” them. The killing was electronic in nature. Twigg, Brek, and the dozen Minith soldiers arranged in a semicircle at the foot of the tower were outfitted with pulse weapons that were mostly harmless. The electronic pulses incapacitated targets with nonlethal—albeit excruciatingly painful—jolts of electricity that temporarily stunned and paralyzed.

  No human had ever made it within half a kilometer of the tower. They weren’t meant to make it. This was a test of their mental make-up, a way to assess how the humans acted when faced with an unwinnable scenario. The pacer monitored the planning processes used and assessed each recruit’s actions as a way to determine their motivations and understand their tendencies. Would they be aggressive? Tentative? Cautious or careless? Would they sacrifice people to help accomplish their mission, or would they try to ensure everyone’s safety? There was no pass-fail criterion. It was more of a mental measurement exercise, with the results entered into their records as a way to help their future superiors predict future performance.

  “Any movement, Brek?”

  “Nothing yet. They are still at the demarcation point.”

  This was the fourth grouping today, and Twigg had been pleased to learn that the humans’ new fighting armor actually helped monitor their location. In addition to the feedback being sent from the pacer, the suits’ built-in mapping systems were actively pinging their positions to Brek’s screen. They would know when Jayson and his team moved out and be able to track their movements. The new armor made a simple task even easier.

  Twigg smiled at the thought of hitting Jayson with multiple pulses. The human had become an outlet for the anger, contempt, and frustration he felt for humans. The pale, puny Earthling deserved whatever punishment he could mete out. He wondered how many electronic jolts he could realistically deliver without raising unwanted attention, finally deciding four or five would be reasonable.

  He fingered his weapon and felt his ears quiver with antic
ipation. It was just a matter of time.

  * * *

  He was known among the Family as Alone.

  It wasn’t his name—he had never been granted a true name by his kind. It was simply a classification, a statement—a truth not worthy of further consideration. It was the way in which his people acknowledged his existence, while simultaneously noting his lack of presence.

  He was from the Family. But he was not of the Family.

  His mother and father were of the Family. His siblings were of the Family. His birth mirrored those that came before him, and those that came after. His outward appearance was unremarkable as far as his kind went. He was strong, fast, and as physically capable as any other.

  In all aspects except the most important one, he was like any other Telgoran. He was incapable of sharing the mass mind that connected his people into a single, cohesive entity—the Family. His consciousness resided outside the familial circle. The thoughts in his head were his own, not those of the Family. He did not link with the others, did not know what they thought or why. He had never held shiale.

  Although he was pitied—looked upon as something less by the Family—he was rarely uncomfortable in his solitude. It was all he had ever known. Joining together in mass thought was as foreign a concept to him as . . . flying. You cannot regret the loss of something you never had. Instead, he reveled in the ownership of something that only he possessed. Individuality and self-direction.

  Titan, the human emissary that spent his existence with the Family, had once shared an Earth-word for how he existed: freedom. Since that day, the man had taken to calling him “Free” whenever he encountered him in the tunnels and caverns. The Telgoran hungrily latched onto the name. Claimed it for himself.

  Among the Family, he was Alone. But to himself, he was Free.

  Free lay inside the mouth of the cave and looked down the slope at the humans below. Over the past few years, he had spent hundreds of hours quietly observing the strange behavior of the Earthlings as they trained to become soldiers.

  The dozen small, pale humans were arranged in a loose line, sheltered behind large boulders that were obviously meant to hide their location from some unseen “enemy” in the distance. He looked out across the sun-scorched terrain to see if he could detect their opponents, but as usual, he saw nothing moving in the distance. He had seen this scenario play out numerous times over the years: the humans were dropped here, waited for an hour or so, then moved out toward some distant target or foe. Two hours later, another group would take their place. Two hours after that, yet another group would assemble. This often went on for two or three days, as different groups took their turn assaulting whatever lay in the distance. He had never followed any of the soldiers to determine their destination, or learn what waited for them in the distance. He had been instructed by the Family not to engage the human soldiers or—Family forbid—the Minith warriors who sometimes accompanied them.

  Like all of his people, he neither trusted nor liked the Minith who still occupied Telgora. At the urging of the general—the great human warrior who had released their world from the Minith years earlier—they had reached shiale on an alliance, but it was a tenuous arrangement where the Minith were concerned. The Family allowed their continued presence on Telgora but only in limited numbers, and only because the evil aliens had been conquered through the combined efforts of Telgoran and human forces.

  It took a moment for Free to notice, but the soldiers below were outfitted in a manner that he had never seen before. They were still short, stocky creatures, but their clothing seemed . . . different, bulkier and more rigid than usual.

  He crawled closer to the cave opening for a better view.

  * * *

  Eli had been elected team leader by the members of his squad, and he wore the responsibility with the seriousness that it deserved. As a life-long student of all things soldier-related, and the son of the man who had designed this training regimen, he understood the situation he and his team currently faced. He knew the purpose of this exercise and struggled with the knowledge that they weren’t expected to succeed in their mission of reaching the tower that stood five kilometers away. No one had ever reached it because they weren’t meant to reach it. It was a mental test, designed to measure individual tendencies, strategic planning, and abstract thinking.

  He knew they were expected to fail. And that knowledge pissed him off.

  Why give them a mission they couldn’t achieve? Why set them up to fail just so someone could monitor their thought processes or try to interpret their possible future actions? He stared across the terrain. He couldn’t see it, but knew a tower stood in the distance. It was a real target. One that held a contingent of real Minith fighters. Minith fighters who waited, ready to cut the humans down before they could get within range and bring their own weapons to bear.

  He snarled in frustration and struggled to solve what was designed to be unsolvable.

  Adrienne Tenney had led her own team toward that goal earlier in the day without success. He had questioned her at length on what she had seen and experienced, quizzed her regarding the tactics she had employed. Nothing she offered proved helpful to cracking the code. Her team hadn’t come close to the tower before being dispatched by the long-range weapons its defenders were using. She was clear on one thing though: the shock of being hit with those weapons was no joke. She described the experience as “like being hit with a bolt of lightning.” The shudder in her voice reiterated the discomfort she had felt. The subsequent gleam in her eye told Eli she couldn’t wait for him to feel it for himself.

  There was one thing she said that tugged at his mind, though. Tenney relayed how her team used their suits’ cover and concealment systems to approach the tower, but it hadn’t mattered. The suits were designed to be near-invisible, and could match the terrain as they passed across it. That should have supported their attack, offered an advantage. But it hadn’t. When they reached a point that put them in range of the defenders, they were picked off easily, one-by-one, as soon as they moved to advance. She described her own experience clearly: She was concealed behind a large boulder, protected from any possible shot. She identified her next position and prepared to move up. She hadn’t taken a single step before being taken down by a blast. It was like the tower defenders knew exactly where they were at all times. In other words, they were being tracked in some fashion—probably electronically.

  To Eli, that was cheating, and he struggled for a way to overcome the disadvantage.

  “What are we going to do, Jayson,” Benson asked his bunkmate? His voice rang inside Eli’s helmet like an accusation, but that was an unfair assessment, he knew. His frustration was merely coloring his friend’s innocent question. The other recruit had begun relying more and more on Eli to get them through the grueling cycle of training. The fact that Eli was now his squad leader lent credibility to the query. It was his job to come up with a plan. He noted with a resigned sigh that all of the faces in his team were turned to him.

  “I’m thinking,” he answered, making eye contact with each recruit in turn. “And I’m open to suggestions.”

  “Speed,” Ellison offered from the far right of their line. “Use this nice, new armor and just rush them before they can react.”

  Eli accepted the suggestion with a nod, filed it away as a possibility, but knew it wasn’t the key to the puzzle. Other units had tried that. Their new armor might help, but racing to contact would just speed up the inevitable, especially if they were being tracked electronically.

  “Other ideas?”

  “What if we circle to the north or south, try to get around them that way?” Benson suggested. “This armor should protect us from the extreme temps, don’t you think?”

  The suggestion was intriguing. He had considered that himself. It was unlikely that the Minith would expect them to approach from the south or the north. The terrain in both directions was just too hostile. Unarmored, no one in their right mind would enter thos
e regions. Their new armor would protect them from the elements, but if they were being tracked, it still wouldn’t matter in the long run. Again, the proposed tactic didn’t solve the puzzle. He relayed his thoughts to the group. Several nodded in agreement, obviously relieved not to put their PEACE armor to that particular test.

  “Maybe we should ask the Telgorans for help,” Benson tossed out flippantly. The offhand manner in which he made the comment suggested sarcasm. However, for some reason, the idea resonated with Eli. He was willing to grasp any straw that might help solve this riddle, despite how ridiculous it might seem.

  Ask the Telgorans for help.

  Being so caught up with the day-to-day struggles associated with training, it was easy to forget where they were. Or who else occupied this inhospitable marble of a planet as it rolled around the sun. This is Telgora, Eli reminded himself. A race of people resided beneath the surface of this planet. They were hidden away from the daily grind through which he and his fellow recruits dragged themselves, but they were there nonetheless. Perhaps most importantly, the Telgorans had little, if any, regard for the Minith that had once enslaved their world, and killed their people with regularity. They had agreed to join the Shiale Alliance , but it was well-known to the Alliance leaders on Waa that they would have preferred to cast their large, green foes out into the stars, given the choice. It was only a result of their allegiance to, and regard for, the humans who had come to their planet, and led them in the defeat their enemies, that they conceded to join the union. But the distrust and the dislike remained.

  Eli turned that reality over in his mind, looking for any clues that might help solve the puzzle he had been handed. With a gasp, he recalled a key detail from the battle for Telgora that had been waged more than a dozen years before. The Telgorans had used a series of underground tunnels to surprise the Minith in their mining bases. The attack from below had taken the defenders by surprise and helped secure the combined human and Telgoran victory over the Minith here on this planet. Not for the first time, he thanked his own curiosity and his father’s insistence that he study history. Perhaps looking to the past would help solve the present.