Peace Army

by Steven L. Hawk

  The suppression of the mothership’s presence on Telgora had served the governor well, and Soo granted him his due for the action. Just as Truk had predicted, the demands for retribution eventually diminished.

  The Minith were an adaptable race, with numerous strengths. As time passed, the most basic of those strengths numbed the initial desire for answers. Greed, aggressiveness, and a drive for personal fulfillment spilled forth and filled the void left by their dead planet. The remaining population scrambled to establish their places in the new social, occupational, and political hierarchies that formed.

  Soo entered the residence and was greeted by Ghin.

  “Good day, General Soo.”

  “Ghin,” Soo answered.

  “The Governor is waiting. Go right in.”

  Soo nodded and approached the door to Truk’s office. He checked his ears to ensure they gave nothing away before entering. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation.

  Part III

  Down to Earth, Then Beyond

  Chapter 30

  The Leadership Council sat quietly as Titan told his story.

  Grant knew it had to be uncomfortable for them. The large, well-spoken man standing before them was not what they expected. After all, he was once the most infamous Violent on the planet—feared by most of the world’s Peaceful population.

  But a lot had happened in the years since Titan was sent to Violent’s Prison. The discomfort they felt had to be allayed by the fact that he had played such a key role in ridding the planet of the Minith.

  As Grant observed the proceedings, he felt a slight twinge of pleasure at the conflicting emotions that must be going through the minds of the Leadership Council. He knew it wasn’t polite to feel this way over someone else’s discomfort, but he couldn’t help it.

  Now that Titan was here, Grant was no longer the most feared person on the planet. Or even the most heroic.

  Their worst nightmare had suddenly become their undisputed hero.

  Then there was the Telgoran standing next to Titan. Although the tall, thin alien did not speak to the Council, Patahbay’s presence lent Titan’s story a level of credibility and incredulity that was very powerful. Humans and Minith were not the only sentient beings in the universe. Other races and civilizations existed… out there. It struck Grant that a lot could happen in six hundred years.

  Grant listened to the story Titan had already shared with him and his staff. He left out few details. The descriptions of the artwork that hung in their underground villages made an impact. So did his descriptions of the valiant, but doomed assaults against the fortified walls of the Minith mining bases. The thousands of bleached-white bones that littered the plains outside the bases earned particularly satisfying responses from the Council members.

  In his mind, this meeting was an obligatory one. It allowed the Council to place their stamp of approval on a decision that had already been made. Even if they refused Titan’s request, the die had been cast.

  Grant would take the largest force he could fit into the alien ship and haul ass for Telgora.

  He hated that he held the Leadership Council in such low regard. He hated that he would ever think of going against their direction. But the past six years of wrangling with them and their misguided views had tarnished his outlook for good.

  On one hand, Grant believed the military should answer to the government it served. Otherwise, what prevented the military from advancing its agenda over that of the people they were sworn to protect?

  On the other hand, these people did not have the experience or knowledge to make an informed decision. The manner in which they lived—the way of Peace—stunted their judgment. They did not understand how short-term decisions, based on a longing for peace, could so negatively affect the long-term security of their people and their planet.

  The ancient soldier waited for Titan to finish his tale so he could present his recommendations to the Council. He hoped they would see that his proposal was in the best interests of the citizens of Earth, but he was prepared to act against their directions, if necessary.

  He had not spent the past six years preparing for a showdown with the Minith for nothing. This was the perfect opportunity to act without endangering the citizens of Earth any more than was necessary.

  Grant shook off his doubts.

  As much as the Council might be able to speak out against his proposal, he doubted that they actually would. They would see the benefit and approve.

  After all, moving the fight to another planet helped protect them from retaliation.

  Grant smiled at the thought that he would be touching down on another planet in the not-too-distant future.

  * * *

  Grant raced through his checklist.

  The military items were completed. Orders had been issued and were being followed. Equipment was being prepped and loaded onto the mothership. Soldiers and pilots had been selected, notified, and instructed to be ready in two days. Last-minute items and issues would crop up as the departure time neared, but those could be addressed as they arose.

  With all those things taken care of, it was time to address the hard stuff.

  Grant was a veteran of military deployments. He knew more than a few good soldiers who never made it home from one. Though he had never had a family in his previous life, many of his soldiers had. On several occasions, he’d had to deliver the news that one of his men would never be coming home. For Grant, it was the hardest part of military life. It was also one of the primary reasons he had never gotten close to anyone. He never wanted to place someone he loved in such a desperate position. But now here he was—getting ready to place Avery and Eli in exactly that position.

  It was time to get his house in order.

  His first stop was at Treel’s quarters. He nodded to the two guards stationed outside the Minith’s door and tapped lightly, then entered the room.

  Treel was huddled over the chessboard. He glanced up briefly as Grant walked to the table and looked over the pieces. The alien was in the middle of a game. Since no one else was permitted inside the room who could play, Grant surmised that the alien was playing both sides of the board.

  “Are you winning or losing?” he asked the former Minith soldier. As he always did when they were alone, Grant addressed Treel in the Minith language.

  “I am evenly matched,” Treel replied gruffly. “It is anyone’s war at this point.”

  “You know it’s a game, right? It’s not a war.”

  “Is there a difference?” the Minith asked.

  Grant knew that for Treel and his kind, a game like chess—or any other type of competition—meant expressing their need for domination and aggression. It wasn’t deadly. It was fought over a board with pieces, instead of over a battlefield with weapons. But, for them, it was just another variation of war.

  “Actually, yes. There is a difference,” Grant said. “Games are for recreation, sport, and friendly competition. War has nothing to do with any of those things.”

  “War is about defeating those who are inferior, Grant. Why do we have these conversations?”

  Grant nodded. It was a good question. They had discussed this topic often and each knew where the other stood. But neither conceded the other’s point. It was how they were made and it was foolish to expect anything else.

  Minith and humans were different races. Their history, their experiences, their cultures… all combined to imprint different characteristics on their brains and in their genetic structures. While they shared many of the same traits—similar body structure, an ability to think, willingness to fight, and a desire for family connection—there were just as many differences.

  That’s why Grant and Treel got together so well. Each understood how and why the differences existed, and neither tried to convert the other to their way of thinking. It would never work. The best they could hope for—and the solution they settled upon—was to understand the other’s culture and to respect it for what it was.


  Grant was pleased that part of the Minith’s culture was to concede superiority to another when defeated.

  He was also pleased that particular trait was not in his genetic makeup. If the shoe had been on the other foot and he was a prisoner of the Minith, he would never concede to their superiority.

  Nevertheless, he was here to take advantage of that trait.

  Now that he knew the mothership held no threat of a Minith attack, there was no further reason to keep Treel confined to his quarters. He no longer posed any further threat to the humans on Earth.

  Grant felt torn about his feelings over the decision. He was not concerned that it was wrong, or that the change should be made. No. He was torn over why he was so glad that the decision could be made.

  He was glad because—at the very core of his being—he knew that Treel was the best role model Eli could have in his absence, except Avery.

  Coming to terms with that truth had been about as difficult and conflicting as it could get.

  But there was no denying the feeling. Grant had more in common with Treel than with any human on the planet. The exceptions might have included Titan or Mouse. But Mouse would be busy running the armed forces on Earth, and Titan would be leaving on the mothership when it departed.

  Tane was a possibility, but—though he loved Eli, and Eli loved him—the scientist was more a Peaceful soul than not. Eli did not need to be raised in Peace—not with the Minith still out there. No, he needed to be raised in a way that allowed him to fight back, should the aliens ever return to Earth. If he could prevent it, his son would never fall into the trap of false Peace—that snare of complacency and servitude in which humanity was trapped when the Minith arrived on Earth.

  Allowing Eli unrestricted access to Treel and his beliefs would foster the will to fight.

  All these conflicting thoughts and emotions were running through Grant’s mind and body as Treel advanced a black rook down the board. He placed his white king into check. Grant recognized the attack and saw that the game could be over in four more moves.

  “Treel, we need to talk.”

  * * *

  Grant found Avery in the Fourth Square.

  She was talking to two civilian workers who were helping with the construction of walls and ramps. They wore the light-brown coveralls that carpenters wore and had very impressive tool belts. At least some things haven’t changed, he thought as he made his way over.

  Since taking on the orphan project, Avery was spending most of her time here.

  He was surprised at the amount of progress that had been made in just a few weeks. Most of the vacant rooms and hallways that made up this leg of the Fourth Square had been torn down. The resulting open space was wide and long. A few scattered walls remained, but it was a blank canvas on which Avery could create her take on Grant’s vision.

  He wondered briefly if he would ever get to see the space in its final stages.

  “Wow, hon,” he said as he reached the trio. “It’s really coming along, huh?”

  Avery held up a finger as a signal to wait. Grant bit his tongue and nodded. What else could he do? When the boss asked you to wait, you waited.

  She ended her conversation with the two carpenters, who readily set out to do her bidding. She then turned her smile toward Grant.

  “What are you doing here, handsome?”

  She looked happy. Happier than he remembered her being in a long while. He suddenly realized that she had needed this.

  She loved being a mother and taking care of Eli, and she was great at it, but her talents beyond those needed to be a mother were wasted. She had so much more to give to their community and the efforts against the Minith, and she was finally being asked to contribute.

  Grant kicked himself for not understanding this until now. He wondered if his leaving was the reason for his sudden insight. Decided it had to be. The adage that you never miss someone until they are gone came to mind. How had he become so numb to her needs? How had that happened, when she was always such an expert at filling his?

  The urge to sweep her up and kiss her was too overpowering to fight.

  So he did just that.

  She put her hand to his face and returned the kiss. She pulled away quicker than he would have preferred, but the grin she gave him made up for it.

  “Put me down, you oaf,” she chastised, patting him lightly on the chest. It was the modern version of an angry swat, but he knew she didn’t mean it. The upturned corners of her mouth gave her away.

  He returned her gently to the ground, but did not release her. He pulled her to him instead and wrapped his arms around her.

  “Miss me already, eh?” she asked, snuggling fully into his embrace.

  He kissed the top of her head and breathed deeply. He would miss the smell of her and he fought to etch the warm, familiar scent even more firmly into his memory.

  “Like you would not believe,” Grant replied.

  “Have you spoken with Eli yet?”

  “Yes, a bit,” Grant acknowledged. “He knows I’m leaving, but I don’t think he understands that I might be gone for a long, long time. Or that I might not come back.”

  Grant felt Avery’s body tense.

  “You will come back to us, Grant Justice,” she stated with certainty. “You have to.”

  Grant did not argue, nor did he try to explain, but he knew the truth.

  He was headed for war.

  It would do no good to describe the fear or the uncertainty one felt when the bullets started flying. Or how the Gods of War selected who to injure, who to spare, who returned, and who did not. The effects of war were not something you could describe fully, especially to someone who lived his or her life sheltered by a society that denied the need for it. It would be like describing the Mona Lisa to a blind six-year-old.

  Instead, he just nodded. He was content to let her think he agreed.

  Avery pulled away from the embrace and looked into Grant’s eyes.

  “You need to talk to Eli. He needs to know you will be gone for awhile,” she said.

  “I will, Avery. In fact, that is the next thing on my ‘to do’ list,” he agreed as he pulled her back into his arms. “Where is the little man?”

  “You know Eli. He’s out on those roller blades again.”

  Grant was amused at how quickly her voice reverted to that of an annoyed mother. Some things never changed, no matter how many centuries passed.

  “I am convinced that he would do nothing but roll around this prison for the rest of his days if we would allow it.”

  “Well, there are worse things he could be doing,” Grant replied. “But I have a feeling he might climb off them now and then.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I just removed the restrictions on Treel. He’s free to move about again.” Grant looked to Avery for a reaction. “As long as you don’t mind, he can even have guests.”

  Avery smiled and hugged Grant tightly.

  “Our little man will like that, Grant. He has missed that big, green bully terribly.”

  * * *

  Grant rolled out of bed and pulled on his clothes quietly. He looked around the room and memorized everything he could.

  When he was dressed, he knelt beside the bed and lightly stroked Avery’s hair.

  Her eyes opened slightly and she reached out to touch his arm.

  “Is it time?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said, and leaned over to kiss her forehead. He was pulled into a real kiss and wondered how he would survive without her. He remembered his drill sergeant telling his assembled recruits on the first morning of basic training that “grown-assed men don’t cry.” He had taken that to heart and had not cried since.

  But his eyes watered as he pulled away and left her lying there.

  He walked to Eli’s purple room. He drew back the covering and looked down at the small figure. One leg had kicked loose from the blanket. Grant leaned down and covered the tender limb. He could not h
elp holding the tiny foot for a moment before gently tucking it away.

  He and Eli had a good talk the day before. The five-year-old—almost six—knew his dad was going away for a while. He had taken the news better than Grant had expected. The fact that he was going to fight the enemy and protect their world helped. Eli’s simple announcement of “I understand, Dad” had made Grant proud.

  “Goodbye, son,” Grant whispered.

  He held his hand up. The pads of his thumb and forefinger were mashed painfully together.

  “Remember how much I love you.”

  Chapter 31

  It was midmorning, and Mouse was scheduled to meet Grant outside the mothership.

  His pilots had just finished loading the two dozen fighters that would accompany them and the rest of the human forces to Telgora. He hated losing his best-trained squadrons, but knew it was for the best.

  What he hated most was not being among those aboard the alien vessel when it lifted off.

  Mouse understood the reasoning and, if he had been in Grant’s position, would have made the same decision. But that did not numb the sting of remaining behind. He had spent the last six years training for battle against the Minith.

  The only salve was the knowledge that he would be around when his child was born. Sue was just starting to show, and he could not wait to be a daddy. That counted for a lot and, always the optimist, he chose to focus on that thought.

  Mouse watched as a team of earthies—the name his pilots had given to the ground forces in Earth’s Army—loaded the first of the troop carriers, artillery carriers, and tank carriers that would be making the journey. Strange names for strange devices.

  The ship was not designed for ferrying large numbers of equipment and vehicles. The space in the bay was limited. Following Grant’s instructions on what was most important, the engineer, Gee, had worked out a very detailed load plan. Mouse had to admit the man knew his stuff. The ship was packed as full as it could be with the tools of war.