Part 8 (1/2)

”Get up, human. We must go.”

For the first time, the human surprised her.

”Where are we going,” he asked in perfect Minith.

Now there's a good sign, she thought as she aimed the weapon she had been holding at her side.

”We're taking a ride, human. Now move.” She stepped aside and let the male pa.s.s through the door ahead of her. He offered no resistance. ”To the left and down the stairs.”

Ten minutes later, the human was bundled tightly and lying on the floor of her personal carrier. A thick blanket was draped over his unmoving form.

Rala navigated the vehicle out of the building and headed for her home. As the second most powerful Minith on the planet, she had no problem making her way through the checkpoints and soldiers swarming the area.

She thought about her catch and wondered what he would be able to tell her of Earth and the human forces that had landed on Waa. Mostly, she hoped he could tell her about the Minith forces that had been posted to Earth. She hoped he could tell her about Treel.

Her ears twitched in antic.i.p.ation.

CHAPTER 11.

When they reached their destination, Gee was pulled roughly from the back of the carrier. He dropped the half-meter to the ground with a rough jolt, and was dragged by his bound feet up a short flight set of-thankfully-padded steps.

The female Minith dragging him-the first female alien he had ever seen-did not seem to care if he was injured or uncomfortable. He was just a package being delivered. Gee had the feeling that for her, he was not worthy of consideration or empathy. Then again, the Minith soldiers he had lived among for so many years had never displayed those traits, so why should he expect anything different from the opposite s.e.x?

He wanted to ask her where she was taking him, but the cloth she had shoved into his mouth prevented more than the occasional grunt. And grunt he did whenever she turned a corner and his head slapped against a wall. After the third time, he started watching for the corners and moved his head away from the incidental bas.h.i.+ngs. The female saw him take evasive action and smiled in that peculiar way that the Minith smile. The corners of her ugly green snout turned slightly downward, and the tips of her ears twitched just a bit. A laugh was the same, but the ears twitched faster-and when they found something to really laugh at, the tips literally vibrated.

Most humans will never know that, he thought. Most humans never get close enough to these things to actually see them laugh-much less recognize it as a laugh. It wasn't knowledge he relished having. The only thing it represented was that he had lived with the Minith for far too many years. In some respects, Gee felt as though he understood the aliens more than his own people.

The female-a slightly darker shade of green than the males-dragged him out a door. Detecting a change in lighting, the engineer raised his head and quietly surveyed his surroundings. They had entered an inner courtyard. It was a ten-meter square area, surrounded by four walls. Above, there was no roof, only sky; below them, the floor seemed to be the dirt surface of Waa. A dozen or more s.h.i.+ny metallic stools rose from the ground at random intervals.

Weaving in and out between the metal stools, two miniature alien warriors were attacking each other with long poles. The sounds of their breathing, along with the slaps, whips, and cracks as the poles flashed and connected, filled the courtyard.

Gee realized that the two aliens were actually Minith children when the female adult stopped pulling him. They were the pale green shade that designated them as males. She dropped his feet, gave him a light kick, and announced their presence.

”Arok. Teng.”

The two fighters ceased their sparring at once and turned toward her voice. The larger of the two bowed. The smaller started to bow, but saw Gee and seemed to forget what he was doing. Only a moment after hesitating, he received a slap of pole from the larger child for his negligence.

”Bow, stupid.”

The smaller boy did not seem to feel the a.s.sault, or hear the order. Instead, he continued to stare. A slight grunt from the female, however, quickly brought him back to reality. He completed the bow, then pointed.

”Mother, is that a human?”

”Yes, Teng. This pitiful creature is a human. Beware what you say, though. He understands our language.” The mother gave Gee a sharp kick to the side. ”Isn't that correct, human?”

The gag prevented him from speaking, so he grunted a pained reply and nodded.

”What's he doing here, Mother?” the brother called Arok asked. In addition to being slightly larger, he seemed more composed than the smaller of the two young aliens. Gee surmised that he was the older of the two.

”I'm sure the human is wondering the same thing,” Mother answered. ”Isn't that correct, human?”

She delivered another kick to Gee's already-bruised ribs for emphasis.

Grant groaned upon waking.

His first thought was pain. His head pounded and the wound in his side throbbed wickedly with each beat of his heart. Then he remembered-and felt the greatest pain he had ever felt. It was the anguish of knowing that he had failed.

He had failed to lead his soldiers well.

He had failed to complete their mission.

He had failed to protect his wife, his child, and the rest of the people of Earth.

His spirit, emotions, and mind were crushed by the unbearable weight and pain of his failures.

Not yet ready to open his eyes, he reached out with his other senses to gauge his surroundings. He was lying on a padded surface. It was comfortable, and if not for the pain and memories, he would have been content to keep sleeping-to ignore the reality for a while longer.

But he could not ignore his new reality, despite how much it hurt. He was responsible and he forced himself to face that truth, own up to it. Anything less would be to disrespect those he had let down.

A distant hum of machinery, not unlike the hum of a mothers.h.i.+p, reached into his thoughts and brought him back to full consciousness. The hum was interspersed with an occasional, faraway bang or clank. Much closer, he recognized the unmistakable wheeze-and-saw of someone snoring.

The last thing he remembered was being carried like a child as the group wound their way down stairways, ramps, and steps. Their pa.s.sage from the surface became a dizzying maze of turns, dark pa.s.sageways, and hidden doors that carried them deeper and deeper beneath the surface of Waa.

The Telgorans had never been to Waa. They could not have known the pathways to take. As such, it was obvious they had been receiving mental directions from the planet's native inhabitants.

Grant finally opened his eyes. He was lying on a padded platform in a dimly lit room. Slumped against a wall to his left, Sergeant Conway slept noisily. It wasn't a sleep of peace and contentment. Her weapon was cradled across her body and Grant knew instinctively that she had fallen asleep while watching over him. He wished he deserved the loyalty and respect that her actions revealed, but knew he did not.

Ignoring the beseeching complaints from his body, the wounded soldier slowly worked himself into a seated position and swung his legs off the platform. The move caused his vision to blur and his head to swim. He clung tightly to the platform and fought against the wooziness that insisted on pulling him from his tentative perch. After several seconds of touch and go, his head finally stopped swimming. For the first time ever, Grant thanked Tane for scientifically increasing his tolerance for pain. Without the enhancement, he knew he would never have raised himself from his back.

Grant took a deep breath and debated his next move. Except for a single doorway, the platform upon which he sat, and Conway's slumped, snoring form, the room was empty.

”Yo. Conway,” he whispered. The words felt like sandpaper sc.r.a.ping against his vocal chords. He cleared his throat, tried to swallow, then tried again.

”Becka.”

The sergeant stirred, opened her eyes, and glanced nervously around the room. Grant did not know where she had been inside her dreams, but he watched knowingly as she quickly came back to the reality of the here and now. It would be no more pleasant for her than it had been for him.

Failure.