Peace World Part 7

The Telgoran dindin master was okay with that. If she could keep up, the Waa would accept her too.

CHAPTER 9.

Gee was ashamed. Not only was he ashamed, but he was frightened and alone.

While Grant, t.i.tan, and the rest of the army was off fighting for Earth, he was crouched inside a small, dark room. Unable to move.

He had not intended to hide. In fact, he had every intention of fighting to the death, if that was required. But when the reality of the situation presented itself, his natural instincts had taken over.

When the order had come in for all the carriers to move out of the mothership, he had been nearly overcome by fear. He was an engineer, not a soldier. He had not trained to fire the weapon Grant had given him. He had never run a mile in his life; never performed a single push-up. The bulge around his middle testified to his lack of exercise and offered visual proof to the soldiers seated in the carrier with him that he did not belong with them.

When the carrier landed on street three, Gee was the last to exit. The carrier pilot gave the engineer a strange look and a "let's go" wave as he pa.s.sed out the door of the vehicle. Gee took two deep breaths, steeled himself, and pushed out of his seat. He promptly tripped over the lip of the doorway and fell face-first onto the strange, smooth roadway of Waa.

The pain that shot through his right knee delayed him even further as he rolled on the ground and waited for the throbbing to die down. It did not die down. Neither did anyone offer any a.s.sistance. Knowing he could not remain where he was, Gee rolled onto his back and found himself looking up the face of a thirty- or forty-story high-rise building. He then lifted his head to survey the street around him. The first thing he noticed was a doorway to his right. The second thing he noticed as he looked past his feet toward the distant ship yard was a trio of Minith soldiers. They were still a hundred meters away, but they were running toward his location.

His knee forgotten, Gee rolled onto his stomach and dragged himself to the door. He did not know where it led, nor did he care. His only thought was escape.

From a p.r.o.ne position, the engineer tentatively shoved at the metal face of the entrance, and when it swung inward without pause, he pulled himself in. Once inside, Gee pushed himself off the floor and searched for a way to lock the door behind him. He did not find one.

He did discover something extraordinary, though. The carrier vehicle was clearly visible through the doorway. From outside, the doorway had appeared to be made of some type of metal. Now he knew it was not made from any metal that he could identify. Similar to a two-way mirror, he could see out, but those outside could not see in.

Gee put his face to the entrance and looked to the left, to the north. The soldiers from his carrier were visible, but they seemed a long way off. He turned his head to the right. The three Minith soldiers were only twenty meters from the door where he stood.

Spinning away from the door, the engineer surveyed his surroundings. He was in a dimly lit hallway that led into the interior of the building. Several doors occupied the wall to the left. Forgoing the closest one as too obvious a hiding place, Gee limped to the second door. There was no handle, so he pushed inward. Nothing. The door did not budge. He noticed a six-inch metal plate inset into the center of the door and pushed against it. Still nothing. However, when he pulled his hand away from the door, he felt an invisible connection to the metal plate and the door swung outward, into the hallway.

"Amazing," he whispered, and stepped into the small room he found on the other side.

Before closing the door behind him, he glanced back at the street. The three alien soldiers had reached the carrier. One of them said something to the others and pointed north. Another reached down and picked up a rifle. His rifle, Gee realized with a groan. Until that moment, he had not realized that he had left it lying on the ground where he fell.

One thing seemed clear, though. None of the Minith seemed interested in what lay on this side of the see-through doorway.

Gee released a sigh and pulled the door closed behind him. When the door clicked shut, a light flashed on. He was in a small room. Shelves covered three walls and they were filled with an a.s.sortment of items, none of which he could identify. If he had to hazard a guess, he would have said it was a storeroom-similar to what he would expect to find on Earth.

Curious, he turned around, and sure enough, could see into the hallway through the closed door.

An interesting concept.

There was a metal triangular plate in the wall next to the door. It was exactly where he would expect to find a light switch. Gee palmed the plate and was rewarded with warm, welcome darkness.

That had been an hour ago. Now he lay curled up in the farthest corner of the closet-tired, scared, and alone on a planet full of Minith. Other than the knife Grant had insisted he carry, he had no weapon for defense. He had his wits, his imagination, a full bladder, and a stomach that rumbled.

He couldn't stay curled up in the closet forever, but he wasn't ready to move just yet. He closed his eyes, begged his bladder and his stomach to be patient, and waited. Eventually the Minith or his bodily needs would help him decide his next move.

For now, that was enough.

"Initial estimates show nearly four thousand of our troops killed. Another five thousand wounded," General Rsak reported. "All the humans have been killed, except for six. Those six are being held at your command."

Truk paced the worn path behind his desk as he received the general's update.

The humans had been destroyed, as he had known they would be. The small, but surprisingly effective, attacking force had made it to within a kilometer of his residence. It was a remarkable feat for a race that had always been thought of as weak, pitiful slaves.

The loss of Minith life was regrettable, but not as important as receiving word that a handful of the human attackers had been taken alive. He had delicious plans for them.

The seventh anniversary of the destruction of the home planet was less than two months away, and the captives' roles in the remembrance events would be spectacular. The events would be particularly satisfying for the ma.s.ses who had been demanding action. They now knew who to blame for the erasure of their planet-the humans of Earth.

When he was finished with the six humans now at his disposal, the public would adore him. They would shower him with adulation, honor, and respect. The antic.i.p.ation left a hot glow of excitement in the pit of his belly.

"Very good, General." Truk dismissed Soo's replacement with a wave, then asked Ghin to enter.

"Sir?"

"I want to change our preparations for the upcoming celebration. It needs to be larger. I want as many of our people to attend as possible. Where is the best location for that?"

Ghin considered the question. "The largest s.p.a.ce within the city is at the Waa shipbuilding facility, Governor. With work, we could accommodate most of the Minith on this island. Would that be sufficient?"

"That would be perfect. I want everyone in attendance to be able to see and hear what takes place. If you need a.s.sistance, ask Rala to recommend someone. And be sure to leave the mothership the humans brought where it is. It will make an excellent prop-a reminder of our success over the human rebels."

"Yes, sir."

"And Ghin?

"Sir."

"Send word to General Soo. Inform him of today's events."

"Right away, sir."

The view from her window was not perfect, but she could tell that the fighting had ended. The last angry bird had been swatted from the sky fifteen minutes ago. The low-flying vessel did not have a chance as more than a thousand Minith weapons focused their red pulses of energy on it as it streaked through the street below.

Now, Minith soldiers roamed the streets freely, looking for strays, s.n.a.t.c.hing up alien weapons, and scouring the ground for souvenirs. As Rala watched, a dozen soldiers swarmed the carca.s.s of one of the slow-moving transport vehicles the humans had abandoned.

Other than the detritus and damage left by their irate pa.s.sage, there was no further sign of the human forces. She saw no stragglers, no bodies, no captives.

Bored of the scene below, she left her subordinate's office and returned to her own side of the building.

There was an interesting message waiting for her when she sat down at her desk. She read it three times, considered her options, then made the call.

"Traela, this is Minister Rala. I just received your message. Have there been any further developments?"

"No, Minister. I was unsure what steps to take, so I contacted you directly. Shall I contact someone else?"

"No, no, Traela." Rala struggled to contain her growing excitement. "You did the right thing. Do not move from your office or alert anyone else. I will be right down."

Rala retrieved the small, but powerful, pulse-gun she kept in her desk. Treel had always encouraged her to practice self-defense and demanded that she carry a weapon at all times. She was thankful she had followed his suggestions. Daily training-for both herself and her offspring-had given her a high degree of self-confidence in her fighting skills. In most forms of unarmed combat, she had proven that she could defeat all but the most highly-trained Minith.

Capturing a single human should be child's play.

CHAPTER 10.

When the Telgoran tossed General Justice over his shoulder and started sprinting away from the battle, Sergeant Conway was tempted to send a bullet toward the alien's giant, bulbous head. Her fear of hitting the general, combined with the speed with which the thin, gray-skinned creature moved, stopped her from pulling the trigger, though. Instead, she gave chase.

And what a chase it was.

Conway was the fastest female in her battalion over short distances. And no one, male or female, could outrun her when the distance was greater than three kilometers. But keeping up with the big-headed Telgoran as he made his way across the broken, buckled street was the hardest sprint she had ever experienced. She soon lost the alien, even though he was carrying a large adult male. Incredible.

Fortunately, a handful of Big Head's buddies pa.s.sed her at staggered intervals and allowed her to follow along. As long as she kept at least one of them in her sights, she would be fine.

After the first two blocks, Big Head must have taken a left turn because one of his buddies made the turn ahead of her. When she skidded around the corner of the building six or seven seconds later, there was no sign of her quarry. She saw a doorway closing halfway down the block, though. She bore down and headed for the entrance.

When she reached the doorway, she looked behind her and saw the giant ex-Violent, t.i.tan, huffing and puffing in her wake. Her thought was, "You better do better than that, big guy, if you want to hang with the runners." She raised her weapon, then pushed her way through the door.

Inside, she found a hallway and was greeted by Big Head and four of his friends. She recognized Big Head because he had a very unhappy general still thrown over his shoulder.

"Patahbay, put me down!" General Justice was smacking the Telgoran on the back, but the alien did not seem to feel the blows. He stood calmly looking at Conway, not even winded by the sprint.

Conway raised her weapon and aimed it at the alien's forehead. She was gasping for breath, but could not miss such a large target from three meters away.

"He said to... put him down, Big Head... I'd suggest you... listen."

"Conway, for h.e.l.l's sake, put the weapon down. You can't shoot him!"

"Sure I can, General. Just give me the word."

"Put the weapon down!" Justice struck the alien again. "And put me down. What the h.e.l.l is wrong with you?"

"Fine." Conway relented and lowered her weapon reluctantly.

She heard feet slapping the street outside and turned as t.i.tan reached the closed door. She was surprised to see through what had appeared to be solid metal. t.i.tan stumbled into the hallway and immediately dropped to one knee.

If not for the situation in which she found herself-surrounded by aliens, her general wounded, and just out of a brutal battle in which all of her squad had been killed-she might have been amused to see the most feared man on Earth wheezing and gagging like an out-of-shape farmer chasing livestock. Instead, she barely gave it a second's thought. She scanned outside the door and, seeing no Minith, took a tentative breath.

When she turned back to the group, Grant was standing-sort of-on his own. There was a gash on the right side of his head and a hole in his side where the Minith soldier had shot him. Both wounds were bleeding profusely. Grant held his left hand over the wound in his side while gently probing the gash on his head with his right.

"What the h.e.l.l happened?" he asked weakly. "And where are we?"

"You got shot from behind." Conway grimaced. She was supposed to have been watching his back. "Then Big Head here tossed you over his shoulder and made a mad dash for it. This is where we ended up."

"What? What about the fight? Where are the rest of our troops?"

"The last I saw, we were on our last legs," t.i.tan wheezed from the ground. "I doubt there's anyone left out there by now."

The general dropped to his knees and closed his eyes tightly. "My fault."

"It's not your fault, Grant," t.i.tan countered. "There were just too many of them."

Conway considered t.i.tan's words and the general's a.s.sertion. She thought they might both be correct. If they had sent the reserve infantry ahead of the ground troops, they might have had a chance. Then again, there were so many Minith, it likely would not have made a difference in the long run.

"I should have sent the carriers directly to the governor's residence," Grant said, confirming Conway's own thoughts. "Instead, I killed us all."

"No time," Big Head interjected. "We must go now."

"Go where, Patahbay?" t.i.tan stood up and drew a long, shuddering breath.

"To the Waa. Follow me."

t.i.tan moved immediately to follow them, but General Justice wavered. Conway knew he was thinking about the soldiers they had left to face their deaths. She felt a similar need to be with them.

Big Head-Patahbay-saw the general's hesitation, scooped him up without preamble, and set off at a jog for the far end of the hallway.

The general was shouting and beating on the Telgoran's back when they entered a dark stairwell at the end and started down.

The sergeant gazed longingly at the street outside the see-through doorway. For a moment, she considered heading back to the fight that had already been lost. Then she remembered her promise to watch the general's back. Reluctantly, she fell in line and started down.

As she followed, she mourned.

Rala calmly a.s.sessed the pale human for several minutes. She was not impressed. He was lying on his back in the far corner of the small closet.

Sleeping.

Each intake of breath was accompanied by a strange, gurgling sound that emanated from the hole in its face. The struggle for air caused her to think he might be damaged in some way. Is that why he had sought refuge away from the battle? There was no sign of injury or blood, but that meant little-perhaps the wound was internal.

Hurt or not, she had difficulty reconciling the pitiful being with the deadly ships that had flown so fast and so angrily outside her window. They were obviously made for killing. This creature was... obviously not.

A five-year-old Minith in his first year of training seemed more dangerous.

Shaking off her thoughts, she reached out with the toe of her boot and prodded the human roughly.

"Wake, human."

Her kick had the desired effect. The male's mouth snapped shut and his eyes snapped open. He sat up quickly and, with a whimper, pushed himself as far into the corner as his body would allow. No, he was not made for killing. Rala recalled everything she knew about humans... weak, incapable sheep, born to be slaves, and seemingly incapable of resistance. So far, this poor specimen fit the description perfectly.