Part 16 (1/2)

The impacts of those rounds were quickly followed by fifty more as the remaining tanks emptied their barrels. The effect on the advancing alien forces was immediate and dramatic. A thousand running Minith, firing red beams of deadly pulse energy, suddenly became gouts of flying dirt, flame, and body parts.

The first volley of tank rounds was immediately followed by a second, equally devastating volley. Through a haze of smoke, dust, and the purple mist of alien blood, a few dozen Minith could be seen still rus.h.i.+ng toward the human line of tanks. The rest were dead, injured, or too shocked to pick themselves off the ground.

Mouse suddenly recalled an ancient phrase Grant had shared with him years before. The words and their meaning fit the situation well, so he keyed the comm unit and shared it with all units.

”As General Justice would say, 'Payback is a b.i.t.c.h.'”

Soo watched in astonished disbelief as the western attack line was decimated by the weapons the humans had just brought to bear. For the first time in his military career, a tint of self-doubt began to shade the boundaries of his confidence. When his forces on the eastern line encountered a similar fate seconds later, his confidence took another setback.

Had General Soo known the history of Earth, he would have known that Peace, as currently practiced by the humans, was a relatively new concept. He would have known that humans had practiced war, both as an art and as a business, for much longer than three hundred years. If he had known their history, the general would have known that humans were much better at war than they had ever been at Peace.

But he did not know the history of Earth.

Had he known that human scientists were capable of bringing back an experienced warrior from the past, he might have thought twice before dividing his forces. He might have paused before writing the citizens of Earth off as nothing more than a flock of sheep waiting for a brutal shepherd to lead them to their slaughter.

But Soo did not know that human science was capable of such a marvel. In his experience, only the Waa-and perhaps the Zrthns-were capable of such remarkable feats of science.

Had the Minith general known that his tactics and strategy would be considered overly simplistic to a warrior like Grant Justice, he might not have been so confident in his force's abilities. He might not have sent them out into a battlefield where jets, tanks, and artillery were going to be used against them.

But the Minith did not know. He had seen the jets on Telgora, and had appreciated their speed. But their offensive capabilities seemed limited to a few missiles each. The concept of tanks and artillery was completely foreign to him. Neither his governor nor his brother's spouse had thought to warn him of the human capabilities, even though they had been employed in the human attack on Waa only months before.

The view before him now was a bloodbath, and the blood was purple.

Treel came to in the Zone of the s.h.i.+p. He was lying unsecured on one of the tables normally used to train, torture, or teach its occupant. The pounding inside his head necessitated a slow, steady rise from the table's surface, and he obliged. He swung his legs off the side and noticed Eli and Jonah watching him from across the room. Neither were hurt or bound, merely seated and calmly waiting-for him to wake up, apparently.

The Minith spotted the armed warrior standing watch just outside the entrance and growled menacingly. The guard-a new recruit, without rank, Treel noticed-heard the displeasure, as intended, but did not react. He merely s.h.i.+fted his weapon, sending his own message.

”Take care, soldier. I am Lieutenant Treel.”

The guard's ears trembled slightly, a brief but noticeable sign that he understood. He was in the presence of a ranking warrior. Still, he did not speak.

”Why am I being held here? I demand to see the Master of this s.h.i.+p.”

The guard s.h.i.+fted his weapon again. He appeared to consider the request; finally spoke.

”General Soo is not to be disturbed. Upon our victory, I will deliver you to him or to his designee.”

”Soo?” The shock of hearing his brother's name was a blow to the gut and to his thoughts. The knowledge that Soo led the forces of this mothers.h.i.+p-and likely the rest of the forces here as well-was overwhelming, and he did not know how best to take advantage of the coincidence.

His need to see a familiar face-someone of his own flesh and blood-finally won the internal struggle.

”Tell the general that his brother, Lieutenant Treel, wishes to speak with him.”

Part III Confluence

CHAPTER 26.

”Stop your whining, Grant. Everyone makes mistakes. What makes you any different or better than the rest of us?”

”Most mistakes don't get a thousand soldiers killed needlessly, t.i.tan.”

”General, we had a chance. Maybe it wasn't a good one, but it's the one we had. I refuse to believe my squad died needlessly. They died fighting for what they believed in.”

”Dammit, Conway. They died because I refused to make a tough decision. And for the last time, stop calling me 'General.'”

”Sorry, General. Not a chance,” the young soldier replied. ”It would be awkward. Plus, I might get used to it, and then what happens when we get back to Earth? I have to change again? No, thanks. I'll stick with what works for me. General.”

She stood at her normal location when visiting the room the Waa had given Grant, just inside and to the left of the entrance. Her arms were crossed, and despite the glare Grant sent her direction, she refused to look away. In another time, on another planet, Grant might have thought she was a d.a.m.n fine soldier. But now, on this planet, he just did not care.

Grant groaned as a hot wave of distress swept across his psyche. The feeling bubbled from a molten pool of shame that had settled at the core of his stomach. Why was he still breathing when so many were not? He would give anything to trade his life for the lives of the men and women who had fought and died following his orders, his plan, his failure.

”Are you still feeling pain in your side, General?” The sergeant misinterpreted the source of his pain, and Grant shook his head.

”No, Sergeant Conway. That seems to be better now,” he replied. If she insisted on calling him 'General,” the least he could do was return the consideration. She deserved that much.

The effects of the concussion had long disappeared and the wound in his side was nearly healed. All in all, Grant's body was back in fighting condition. His mental health, on the other hand, was still badly battered.

Responsibility for the humans and Telgorans who perished in the failed battle for the Minith capital landed fully on his shoulders. The Minith defenders, while having the advantage in numbers, had not been overly strategic in their fight. They had not defeated his forces-that award belonged to him. His inability to sacrifice some had resulted in the loss of all.

Well, almost all. He, t.i.tan, and Sergeant Conway were the lone human survivors. Patahbay and four of his dindin warriors made up the Telgoran contingent. The Telgorans were responsible for abandoning the fight and leading their small group to the Waa. Not that he could blame them. It was a flee-or-die decision, and they had chosen flight.

”So, are you ready for this?”

”Yes, t.i.tan.” Grant sighed and stood up. He saw the look that pa.s.sed between his two visitors. Their concern was almost touching. Almost. ”I think it's about time I saw the Waa again.”

The trio left the small room and proceeded along the metal-lined corridors that made up the underground home of the Waa. Grant's excursions into this labyrinth had been limited, but his fellow humans knew the way and led.

”Let's try to keep it together this time, huh, Little Man?”

After their last meeting, the Waa had felt it was best to give Grant time to heal, mentally and physically, before meeting again. After three months, the ancient soldier was physically well, so he had pushed for another meeting. After weeks of denials, his hosts had finally agreed, but only after taking a few peeks into Grant's head. The strange tingling sensation that accompanied each mental visit had tipped Grant off to the intrusions.

”I'll do my best, t.i.tan,” he replied. The group had pa.s.sed through a long corridor and was making their way up a flight of stairs. ”But no promises. Those little green f.u.c.kers freak me out.”

”General, those... little green f.u.c.kers... are about as calming and Peaceful as any 'little f.u.c.kers' I've ever met,” Conway replied. Her use of the F-word surprised Grant and he made a promise never to utter the word again. Too much of the garbage he brought from the twenty-first century had already made its way into his army's vernacular. ”The Waa are more Peaceful than my own Culture Leader.”

At the mention, Grant wondered briefly what Randalyn Trevino was doing at that moment. More specifically, he wondered how Earth was faring. He had done the mental calculations and knew that the Minith mothers.h.i.+ps were d.a.m.n close to Earth, if not there already.

Those same mental calculations led him to believe that the army he had built-and that Mouse now led-would do pretty well against a few mothers.h.i.+ps full of Minith. Although his attack on Waa had failed, he had learned that the aliens were not such great fighters. Their equipment was lacking. They had no armor, jet, or artillery capabilities. And their tactics were juvenile and straightforward. In an even match of numbers, he had no doubt that the humans would kick the s.h.i.+t out of Minith ten times out of ten.

On the other hand, the aliens that were headed toward Earth had little idea about the changes that taken place since he had kicked their a.s.ses off the planet. That thought was like a bucket of cold water tossed onto the hot embers eating away at his stomach. He was suddenly anxious to see the Waa again.

”Where are the Waa?” Grant asked. The corridors they traversed were empty.