Stranded Justice (The Justice Trilogy Series Book 2)

by Steven L. Hawk

  He heard the surprised grunts of the two Minith and prepared himself for what was coming.

  It might have been Drek. It could have been Krun. Eli didn’t know which of the two guards was first through the door. What he did know was that the butt of his staff—delivered with the full force of his armor—landed heavily against the side of the giant alien’s head. The green, leathered noggin was no match for the metal staff and the apelike alien collapsed heavily to the floor of the corridor.

  Eli was poised to confront the second Minith, certain he’d be right behind his fellow guard. Minith aren’t known for hesitation or inaction, especially when engaged with an enemy. They rush headlong, usually enraged, and always anxious to deliver the attack.

  But the other Minith didn’t show himself.

  What the flock?

  “I am tossing out my weapon, human,” the Minith inside the command center said after several long moments. The words were delivered in Earth Standard language.

  Eli didn’t reply. He merely faced the doorway and waited for the second guard to make his move. Seconds later, a pulse rifle sailed from the room. The inert body of the Minith splayed on the corridor floor absorbed the impact of the toss.

  This was an interesting turn of events, Eli thought, but still he waited.

  The likelihood that the Minith was trying to lull him into a false sense of security so he could take him by surprise was slim, but not altogether impossible. From a lifetime of experience with the aliens, Eli knew they practiced duplicity on a daily basis. But the type of deception they typically displayed was employed for individual gain or to advance their personal interests, not for a tactical advantage in a brawl or battle. Still, it could happen; he’d experienced it with his best friend, Arok, who’d learned the ability after years of sparring and competing with Eli.

  Patience, the ranger whispered silently to himself. Patience.

  “I am unarmed,” the Minith announced. “Would you like to come to me, or should I come to you?”

  Interesting. Eli elected to drop the silent act and play along.

  “You come to me, Drek,” he replied in the Minith’s native tongue. He was taking an educated guess that the guard was Drek—the one who’d previously expressed his desire to return to Telgora. The sudden intake of breath from the other side of the door either confirmed his hunch or surprised the alien with his mastery of the language. Perhaps both. He pressed his advantage. “Hold your arms out in front of your body and step slowly through the doorway. Can you do that?”

  “Of course I can do that,” the Minith growled. The hint of annoyance that accompanied the reply was undeniable.

  Eli smiled at the expected response. In his experience, an angry Minith is a truthful Minith, and questioning the other’s ability to accomplish the simple task was designed to irritate. He decided to give the alien another poke.

  “You’ll have to step across your partner’s unconscious bulk as well. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, human,” the Minith snarled.

  Satisfied he had the guard seeing red, Eli leveled his Ginny at the doorway and said simply, “Come out now.”

  The Minith’s large clawed fingers appeared in the doorway, followed by his hands, arms, and then the rest of his body. He stepped over the prone form of his fellow guard, then turned to face Eli, his hands still held out before him.

  “How did you know my name?” the Minith asked.

  “You aren’t the only one with ears,” Eli answered. “Why did you surrender without a fight?”

  Drek calmly repeated the story that Eli had already heard about the family he’d left behind, and his utter dislike of Drah. To his credit, Drek didn’t plead his innocence regarding the rebellion that he’d been charged with. He probably figured Eli wouldn’t believe it anyway. Instead, he merely stated his desire to help Eli in any way he could in exchange for an opportunity to get back to Telgora.

  “You understand our chances of leaving this planet are close to zero, don’t you?” Eli asked.

  “I don’t care,” Drek replied. “Any chance is better than what I’ve had until now. If you’ll accept my help, I’ll gladly give it.”

  Eli considered Drek’s words. They rang true and he could see the pleading in the Minith’s red-tinged eyes. He had made his case well, and Eli nodded.

  “Fine,” Eli toed the inert guard at their feet. “We’ll tie up this guy and sneak past the rest of the guards.”

  “Ha.” Drek smiled and grunted. “We can tie this sheep up, but getting past the guards outside the ship won’t be an issue.”

  “Really? Why is that?”

  “Because they feel exactly like I do. They have wives and children on Telgora. When Drah ordered me to bring a squad to guard the ship, I handpicked the team outside,” Drek explained. He kicked the Minith lying at their feet. “This is the only one who believes the lies Drah tells. I kept him inside the ship with me so I could keep an eye on his pitiful carcass.”

  Eli was unsure. Drek was convincing and seemed eager to please. There was no doubt he wanted to return to his family. But trusting him was dangerous and could jeopardize Eli’s safety and potentially prevent his own return to Telgora. In the end, Eli went with his gut and nodded to the Minith warrior.

  “Talk to your team,” he said, then pointed at the still-prone Krun. “If any of them decline to join us, or want to go their own way, make sure they join our friend here.”

  Drek smiled and nodded his large simian head. His large, batlike ears twitched with excitement.

  Twenty minutes later, Eli was back on the dim, branch-covered level of the forest, moving west. His movements were slow to accommodate the six Minith who followed along behind. It was dark, and while they had excellent night vision, they couldn’t match the suit’s capabilities.

  All six of the Minith were former soldiers of the Shiale Alliance. All had been convicted and exiled with Colonel Drah. Most importantly, all were pleased at the unexpected turn of events that offered immediate release from their current enslavement and the possibility of getting back to Telgora.

  Chapter 19

  Aank gazed through the tiny window at the ground below. The vehicle’s running lights traced a pathway across the darkened floor of the forest as it raced back toward the mine and the rest of the Alliance crew. Aank had joined the rangers who had been dispatched to track the Zrthn columns. He knew their destination before the first Zrthns reached the ocean to the east, but couldn’t reveal the information without also revealing his ability to read the Zrthns’ thoughts. Unless it was an absolute necessity, he planned to keep that secret from his companions. And if he had to divulge the ability, he would limit the disclosure to Lieutenant Benson. The information would be passed along in the same fashion as he’d alerted Eli—with the knowledge that the Waa ability to read minds was one of the most closely guarded secrets of the Alliance.

  But that was a decision for the future. For now, he concentrated on the activity below. He caught momentary “glimpses” of thought from numerous creatures, and he tried to match the fleeting thoughts with the animals briefly illuminated by the carrier.

  None of the beasts below were what he’d describe as “aware.” As he had expected, all seemed driven by their instincts, basic needs, and natural predispositions. At the forefront of most of the thoughts were food, shelter, safety, and water.

  As he was processing the glimpses he received, Aank felt a tender crumb of familiarity stroke his consciousness. The thin tendril was brief but Aank reacted immediately.

  Eli? He broadcast the thought over a wide plane, pushing the single word to the outside world with as much intensity as he could muster. Then he paused to listen and feel.

  Nothing.

  Had he really felt the human’s presence or had he felt something else? He replayed the brief encounter, but couldn’t confirm nor discount the notion that he’d temporarily had contact with his human friend.

  “Sergeant Jerrone,” Aank looked toward the front of
the carrier to where the sergeant sat behind the controls. “What is our current location?”

  The sergeant looked at his control panel, then spoke back over his shoulder. His eyes remained glued to the darkness outside.

  “Approximately ten kilometers northwest of where the Agate went down. Why?”

  Aank considered his reply. He couldn’t tell the truth—that he might have felt Eli’s presence. That would open a line of questions that he wasn’t prepared to answer. And had he really felt Eli? The moment was so brief, the link so tenuous, that it could have easily been something else tickling his senses.

  After several seconds of consideration, he offered the only answer that made sense.

  “Just curious, Sergeant. I thought I saw something, but it was probably nothing.”

  * * *

  Eli?

  The sound of someone calling his name entered Eli’s head like a faraway whisper, but it was there. Eli immediately stopped moving and crouched low, his head tilted to the right. It had sounded and felt like Aank.

  Aank!

  He shouted the name using only his mind, anxious to make contact. He waited, certain that the Waa had just tried to reach him telepathically, but he receive no further response. Unfortunately, the Waa’s communication range was much greater than Eli’s. His name had come across as little more than a whisper, which meant the little green engineer had been a long way off. It also meant he had little chance of hearing Eli’s reply, despite how loudly he “shouted” it.

  Still . . .

  Aank!

  Nothing.

  Eli keyed his comms mic and sent out another hail—this one electronic.

  “Agate survivors, this is Captain Justice. Can you hear me?”

  It was a long shot. Eli knew Aank’s telepathic signals could reach distances of more than a kilometer when he was focused on hailing a single being. His internal comms unit was capable of communicating over several kilometers to a fellow ranger, or even with a carrier. If the Agate had had time to deploy the satellites she carried, or if she was still in operation, he’d have had no problem communicating with his fellow rangers over hundreds of kilometers. Unfortunately, there were no satellites overhead, and the scout ship was out of commission. With little hope and nothing to lose, Eli sent another message out, but all he heard for his trouble was silence.

  Although his electronic query received no response, Eli was relieved. He had been operating under the premise that whoever had shot down the ship might be able to track their comms. As such, he had maintained radio silence in order to keep his position and movements hidden. Now that he knew the attackers were Minith, and they didn’t have access to the ship’s comm system—which just happened to be in Eli’s left hand—those concerns disappeared.

  Despite not being able to contact Aank or one of the carriers, Eli set his suit to send out automated transmissions every five minutes over his suit’s comms unit. If he was lucky, he’d come close enough to one of the carriers that they’d hear his signal.

  Until then, he would just continue with his previous plan to find the alien mine. If he was Benson, that’s where he’d go.

  Eli stood up and shouted out once again for Aank.

  Aank! Are you there my Waa friend?

  Nothing. He sighed, signaled to the Minith trailing along behind, and prepared to move out.

  Waa, Waa, Waa?

  The now-familiar tickle interrupted his first step and he crouched down again. He cocked his head to the side and listened.

  “Are you ill, Captain?” Drek asked, taking a knee beside him.

  Once Eli had taken the group on, they had quickly fallen back into a military mindset. In their minds and in Eli’s, they were once again soldiers in the Shiale Defense Force. When Eli assigned the temporary promotion of “sergeant” to Drek, all six of the warriors had rejoiced in that strange, Minith fashion that strung together a complex series of bounces, growls, and ear twitches. After that, Eli’s reservations disappeared. No single Minith could fake that excitement, much less a group of six.

  It was a wonderful moment, but Eli had no time to revisit it.

  Instead, he raised his hand, signaling the need for silence, and tilted his head, anxious for another whisper. Drek nodded and gave the rest of his team the Alliance hand signals for “halt-crouch-be alert.”

  Are you there? he asked, unsure of whom it was he was addressing.

  Waa, Waa, Waa?

  Yes, Eli replied silently. Aank is Waa. Who are you?

  Waa, Waa, Waa!

  You are Waa?

  No, no, no. Chih, Chih, Chih.

  You are Chih?

  Yes, yes, yes.

  For a moment, Eli had no idea what they were trying to tell him, but after replaying the words that had landed on his consciousness, the pieces soon fell into place.

  You are Chih, but you know the Waa?

  Yes, yes, yes! Take, take, take!

  Take?

  Take Waa, take Waa, take Waa!

  You want me to take you to the Waa?

  Yes, yes, yes!

  Eli was stumped by the request, but glad to have finally made a more lasting contact with whoever was watching him. This exchange had almost resembled a conversation. Regardless of who or what was out there, he owed them—first for warning him about the giantpillar, then for helping him with the wolves. He didn’t know if he would find Aank but had no qualms about agreeing to try.

  I will try to find the Waa, he agreed.

  Yes, yes, yes!

  The sense of excitement, wonder, and . . . devotion? . . . that accompanied the words filled Eli’s head and fueled a sense of urgency in his core. He felt their need and it became his own.

  Yes, he answered, standing up once again. I will take you to the Waa.

  He tipped his head to Sergeant Drek, signaling his readiness, then set out again for the mine. He assumed the Chih were capable of following.

  Chapter 20

  General Justice stood upon the platform that had been raised to monitor the loading of the ship. He watched with resigned stoicism as the final formation of soldiers marched up one of the dozens of ramps that circled the rounded behemoth.

  The battleship was the first of its kind, and it was impressive. Twice as large and three times faster than a standard Alliance mothership, it was made for one thing: battle. And unlike its predecessors, it was designed for space-born battles. The primary reason for its size was to hold the mostly untested torpedoes, space cannons, and plasma lasers that had been designed to take out spacecraft as well as planet-based targets.

  It still amazed Grant that no other race—at least none that the Alliance knew of—had ever thought to equip their ships with the ability to fight in space. Having grown up reading science fiction and watching movies like Star Wars and Star Trek, Grant couldn’t imagine not having the capability.

  Not for the first time, he wondered what made the human race so attuned to the concepts of war. What made humanity so good at conceiving, designing, and building the weapons needed to fight their enemies? He’d never thought of humans as being creatures of war, but he was beginning to understand that’s exactly what they were. Until a few years earlier, he’d had no frame of reference by which to compare humanity against other races. Now, though . . . now he understood that humans were unique in that regard.

  The Minith could be cruel warriors. Their base nature led them to be aggressive and pushed them toward fighting, simply for the desire to fight and to come out on top. But despite their instinctual need for war, they weren’t especially good at it. Their tactics were straightforward and tended to rely on brute strength and overwhelming numbers. They were like a bull in an ancient bullring. Strong, fast, and easily enraged. But also easily outsmarted by the experienced toreador who knows when to flash the cape, when to sidestep the horns, and when to deliver the strike.

  The Waa were geniuses—experts at building and crafting the machines of war. Unlike the Minith, though, they had zero aggression and littl
e desire to battle. They understood the need to defend the Alliance, of course, but they didn’t possess the imagination to create the weapons that were required or the capability and will to use those weapons.

  The Zrthns had proved themselves capable of waging war, and of doing so on a level that nearly matched humans. Their technology matched—and in many cases exceeded—those of the Waa. Although they had been defeated once, Grant knew they were a formidable foe. Still, they relied on ground-based troops and tactics. The handful of ships the Alliance had captured eighteen months earlier revealed a complete lack of space-capable weapons. Perhaps there were no Zrthn counterparts for Heinlein, Scalzi or Ringo? Maybe they didn’t have their own versions of Battlestar Galactica or Starship Troopers? Regardless of the reason, Grant and the Shiale Alliance would use that deficiency to their advantage. And the stadium-size ships that towered above him would be their means to victory.

  Grant, the last contingent of soldiers has been loaded.

  Sha’n’s words wove their way carefully through the general’s thoughts before landing lightly on his consciousness. Grant sighed. His friend and assistant was still treading carefully around him. Eli’s death had altered Grant’s relationship with his Waa confidant, and that pained him. He didn’t want her to treat him differently, had told her as much, but she had ignored the admonition. Her ability to read his mind was both a blessing a curse. He could hide his pain from his wife, from his staff, and from his soldiers, but he couldn’t hide it from Sha’n.

  Oh well. It is what it is.

  Very well, Sha’n. I’m on my way up.

  Grant descended the stairs of the platform and made his made his way to the closest loading ramp. He tried to ignore the thoughts of vengeance that insisted on taking over his emotions and creeping into his thoughts as he entered the ship.