Son of Justice (2 page)

Yet, despite not being the strongest, nor the fastest, nor the most intelligent species, of the four sentient species that were involved in the Peace Wars, man had come out on top. Aided by the tall, reed-thin Telgorans and the diminutive, green Waa, the humans of Earth defeated the aggressive, planet-robbing Minith on the three primary planets where the four races now lived: Earth, Waa and Telgora. The Minith home planet was destroyed during the war, along with most of their people.

Grant understood his place in the scheme of things. He had played a significant role—perhaps the most significant, he conceded with a sigh—in humanity’s eventual victory over the Minith. But it wasn’t because he was the strongest, fastest or smartest person on Earth. He was merely a solitary warrior who possessed a rare set of skills and a unique view.

While most on Earth believed that peace and conformity were ideals humanity should endeavor to achieve, Grant’s personal philosophy was somewhat more antiquated. While he believed in the concept of peace (not the capitalized “Peace” that most humans worshiped), he understood that true peace requires the ability and willingness to protect yourself from those who would take advantage. Like the Minith, who had used the humans’ unwavering obedience to peace to enslave Earth and steal its resources.

Grant was the catalyst that saw mankind build its first army in more than four hundred years. It was an army that defeated the Minith invaders on Earth and then took the battle to the planets of Telgora and Waa, where the aliens also held power. Eventually, the Minith were soundly beaten, and their home world was destroyed.

With the Minith defeated, the citizens of Earth wanted nothing more than to retract back to their lonely, overcrowded planet, bury their collective heads, and forget about life beyond their tiny solar system. But Grant refused to let that happen. Nature abhors a vacuum, and leaving Waa and Telgora to their own fates would have created an atmosphere for the Minith to reclaim what they had lost—or worse. Grant recognized the threat and quickly started the process of forming an alliance between the four races.

Bringing the Waa and the Telgorans into the alliance had proved easier than getting his own race engaged. Despite their victory over the Minith, most humans still despised and feared their former enemy. It took months of intense deliberation and debate within Earth’s Leadership Council, before the surviving Minith were grudgingly recognized as war refugees. It took even more time for humanity to finally accept them as an equal member of an alliance.

Grant argued tirelessly on behalf of his previous foe, and for very good reasons. The Minith were already residing on Telgora and Waa. With their home planet destroyed, it was obvious they weren’t going anywhere. Add to that the Minith culture norm that required subservience when defeated in battle, and the decision was a no-brainer. Perhaps most importantly, threats far greater than the Minith existed outside of their backwater corner of the universe, and Grant needed experienced fighters. Although their political influence was minor, they filled the need for soldiers, and were now a major component of the alliance military. Their willingness and ability to fight readily offset the distaste that most humans had for war.

Now, a dozen years after the end of the Peace Wars, the Shiale Alliance was still in its infancy. In some ways, it was doing well. Prosperity seemed within reach. The mining and sale of agsel ore to the planets and races that existed outside the Alliance provided resources and wealth. This wealth supported all partner-members and fostered growth on the two dozen planets that made up their tiny corner of the galaxy.

In other ways, survival was an ongoing struggle. Cracks were appearing—caused by both internal and external forces—that threatened the alliance. Those cracks now kept Grant awake at night.

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head at how he had come to be here in this place, at this time. He hadn’t asked for this, had never wanted the mantle that had been forced upon his shoulders. On the other hand, he knew it hadn’t been possible to refuse the demands of three disparate races. The Waa hadn’t cared, but the leaders of Earth, the Minith, and the Telgorans had all made his oversight of their combined fighting forces a requirement of their signing onto the Shiale Alliance. It had been twelve years and he wondered if they would ever allow him to retire the post—or if he’d be locked into the position until he croaked. Hell, the thought made him want to jump on the next ship bound for the outer ring and lock horns with the next Zrthn battle carrier ship that crossed the demarcation line that delineated Alliance territory.

Now there was a real problem. The Zrthn threat, always a looming presence, had grown more worrisome over the past six months. Instead of an occasional foray up to the demarcation line, followed by an immediate retreat, they had begun crossing deep inside Alliance space. Grant knew they were probing for weakness, testing the Alliance response to the incursions. So far, neither side had done anything more than posture, which was good. The last thing Grant or the Alliance wanted was another war, especially with an enemy that he knew so little about.

Grant’s musing about the Zrthns was cut short by a knock on the door.

C’mon in, Sha’n
, he thought.

His office door opened at the unspoken permission and Sha’n entered. Although her official title was Assistant to the Commander, the Waa female was more of a trusted adviser than anything else. Standing an inch above four feet tall, the diminutive aide had the same green skin and large black eyes that were common to all Waa. Not for the first time, Grant smiled at the thought that the Waa were the little green men that were rumored to have made numerous visits to Earth in the mid- to late-1900s. Only they weren’t rumors, he knew. The Waa visited Earth regularly in the latter half of the twentieth century. What was really funny was that they looked remarkably like the cartoon- and movie-based characters that had become so popular after those visits began. Green skin. Large, bald heads. Enormous, almond-shaped black eyes. Even the flowing, light-colored robes they wore fit the ancient-human stereotype.

It had taken Grant nearly a year before he could identify Sha’n as an individual, distinct from the thousands of other Waa who resided in and beneath the city. Eventually, he came to recognize her from the tiny wrinkles covering her skin, the distinctive angle of her eyes, and the way she walked. Grant had once tried to describe his efforts at distinguishing a single Waa to an acquaintance on Earth. The best example he could come up with was to ask his friend to imagine a thousand oranges. At first, they all looked the same, but if you removed a single orange and examined it every day for a year, you might eventually be able to pick it out of a pile of oranges with some effort. You just had to make sure it was a small pile.

After more than ten years by his side, Sha’n had become one of the most important and trusted individuals in Grant’s life. She wasn’t just an aide or an advisor; she was one of a small handful of his true friends.

Good morning, Sha’n
, he greeted his aide.

Good morning, Commander Justice.

While the Waa could speak normally, mind-speak was infinitely easier, and the advantages over verbal communication were significant. Mind-speak was like communicating in 3-D. It permitted the full use all of one’s senses. Complete thoughts, feelings, smells, and sights—among other things—could all be relayed during a conversation. For example, Grant’s simple greeting to Sha’n had informed her of his mood and relayed his pleasure at seeing her enter his office. It was a far superior method of communication to simple verbal-speak, which was limited by each individual’s vocabulary and ability to express themselves through words and body language. Grant often wished he could use mind-speak with other humans. It would make things so much easier. But humans, while capable of interacting with the Waa on a mental plane, weren’t built for communicating with one another on that basis.

Of course, it was possible for the Waa to act as “mental interpreters” between humans, which could enormously improve human interactions, but there were two problems with that scenario. The first was simple logistics and availability. The Waa were the premier builders and thinkers of the Alliance. Their skills would be poorly spent acting as simple interpreters between humans.

The second problem was the more important, however. Their ability was one of the most closely held secrets of the Shiale Alliance. Other than Grant, only two other humans and the Telgorans knew what the “little green men” could do. The Telgorans kept to themselves, they detested the Minith and rarely interacted with humans. Even if Grant hadn’t received their agreement to keep the information secret, he had little fear they would ever disclose it. It didn’t serve the Alliance for the knowledge to become more wide-spread. The Waa were incapable of reading the minds of the Minith, the most aggressive, warlike contingent of the alliance. Grant trusted his large, green allies—somewhat—but he didn’t feel a responsibility to disclose information the Minith could potentially use against them. Also, and more importantly, if the Zrthns learned of the Waa’s ability, the not-so-small advantage the Alliance held in their fight to keep the foreigners at bay might disappear.

You are concerned about the upcoming negotiations. And about things on Telgora.

Grant mentally kicked himself. He hadn’t meant for either piece of information to slip out. Sha’n had been working with him on methods for preventing the Waa to peek into his mind. He was getting very adept at cloaking his inner thoughts, but he had to concentrate in order for it to be effective. He had nothing to hide from Sha’n, but immediately began the cloaking techniques she had taught him. He felt confident that with more practice he could train himself to shield all of his waking thoughts without significant effort.

He pushed the Zrthn threat to the back of his mind and focused on the situation on Telgora.

Yes. Any word from our sources there?
Grant asked.

We received the weekly update. Eli is doing well in his training.

Excellent. His identity?

Still hidden from all parties. No one knows he’s your son.

Grant nodded and turned back to the window. He heard the door close behind him, signaling Sha’n’s departure. She came and went as the need, or his mood, dictated.

Despite the attempt to hide his feelings, he knew she had picked up on his worry. It hadn’t been his choice to send his only son into the hell of Telgora. It certainly hadn’t been his idea to send the boy—even as an eighteen year old, Grant still considered him his boy—into military training as an ordinary foot soldier. Eli had grown up in an environment that groomed him to be a soldier. He could have easily qualified as an officer based on the standard qualification tests had he wanted. He was proficient in virtually every aspect of military life, Grant had personally overseen his training since he was seven. But Eli was his own man, and had refused what he considered “the easy way.” He wanted to enter the military the way a common soldier did.

Despite his worry as a father, he was proud of his son for his choices. Few of the most important things in life were ever gained by taking the easy path. Hard work, commitment, and sacrifice led to success.

Yes, Grant was very proud indeed, and how could he not be? After all, it’s what he would have done.

With a groan of effort, Eli slipped the overstuffed pack from his shoulders and dropped it to the barracks floor. The nondescript, cement block building where they were housed wasn’t home, but it was the only place where he and his fellow recruits could unwind out of sight and mind of their Minith task masters. As such, it was a welcome sight whenever they came in from a long day of training. The room where he bunked was painted a light green and housed twenty soldiers—men and women mixed. Each trooper was assigned a standard bunk and a storage closet for their equipment. A large, communal latrine was just down the hall, and served five of these twenty-person rooms.

He stared at the name “Jayson” stenciled on the top of the pack for just a moment. It felt strange to use a last name that wasn’t his own . . . but also good in a way. All of his life, he’d been known and treated as the son of the most important—and most famous—human in the entire Shiale Alliance. Here, he was his own person, and the anonymity the alias provided was as frightening as it was liberating. He was intensely proud of his father and of the family name, but for the first time in his eighteen years, he would succeed or fail on his own merit, without the influence, prejudice, or stigma that came with the name “Justice.”

He carefully leaned his weapon against the pack, then executed a flawless, rolling flop onto his bunk. The relief of being off his feet for the first time in over twenty-four hours swallowed him whole.

Around him, the sounds of platoon-mates collapsing into their own bunks filtered through his fatigue. The wrinkles and lumps caused by his flop would need straightening soon—everyone’s bunk would need to be perfect for evening inspection—but for now, he soaked in the pleasure of the not-so-soft mattress. Although there were only humans assigned to his training unit, the bunk was oversized, built to accommodate any recruit—human, Minith, or Telgoran. Eli’s slender frame fit easily into the bed, with plenty of room to spare.

“Ah, crud,” he heard Private Gale Benson mutter as he approached. His feet scuffed across the floor in that exhausted, shuffle-walk manner that had become so familiar. It also meant they would need to buff out the minute scratches that Benson was leaving in his wake. Another wonderful chore. “How the flock am I gonna make it up there?”

Eli buried his smile in his pillow and grunted a noncommittal response. On the first day of training, Benson had demanded that they switch bunks. Ignoring the hint of violence that had accompanied the demand, Eli had agreed at once. Giving up the top bunk he had been assigned for the bottom bunk Benson had been issued was a no-brainer. Not only were the bunks larger in order to accommodate the size of the average Minith soldier, the top bunk was also considerably higher than a standard human bunk for the same reason. Unfortunately for Benson, he hadn’t had the foresight to consider the energy needed to climb to the top every night.