Peace World (14 page)

His mom stood up and put the now-folded shirt into the bag she was preparing.  She was done listening.

"No, Eli, you are not an orphan.  But you
will
be joining them when they get evacuated in two days." 

Eli knew the "mother" voice.  It would do no good to argue with her about this.  She had made up her mind, even if it didn't make any sense.

"Fine," he agreed. 
For now
.  He would try again later.  "Can I visit Treel?"

She stopped packing and looked at him.  He knew she wanted to tell him no.  They had already discussed why Treel had once again been returned to his room and locked inside.

"I'm leaving in two days, and I want to see him before then," he whined.  Like most six-year-olds, Eli had learned the buttons he could push to get his way.  She was forcing him to leave with the orphan's group, and he was offering up something that looked like a compromise. 

He knew she would not say no.

CHAPTER 17

"Why do you keep walking around and around the room?"

Treel paused his pacing.  Looked over to the small human seated among the furnishings he had moved to the center of the room.  Eli was setting up the pieces for another battle of chess, even though he had been informed there would be no game.  Although they had discussed the incoming ships and the seemingly unavoidable threat of war, the boy seemed calmly immune to the forces building around them. 

"Movement helps me to think, Little One.  I need to be ready."

"Ready for what?"

"I need to be ready to… to leave this planet when the time comes." 

Treel almost said "be ready to fight" but checked his tongue.  He could not confess his thoughts to the young human, regardless how close they had become.  Within days, Grant's offspring—this small human who had helped ease his loneliness over the past few years—would be just as much an enemy as any other human of Earth.

"Do you think the ships are here to take you back?"

"I hope so, Eli.  I hope so."

"So do I, Treel," the child responded.  The matter-of-fact admission surprised Treel.  "I'd miss you, but you've got two sons waiting for you at home.  They need you more than I do." 

The revelation that Eli understood his pain was a surprise to the Minith warrior, though in retrospect, it should not have been.  The child's father was away at war now.  Or dead.  Either way, he knew what separation was like and, at such a young age, was better able to relate his feelings and motivations to others much better than most Minith ever would.  Treel knew it was his race's manner to consider one's individual needs and desires before anyone else's.  Consideration of how others felt or what others needed was not one of their strengths.  In fact, most of his kind would view that as a very real weakness.  Even after so many years with these humans, they continued to show him new ways to think—gave him new ideas to contemplate.  Rala would enjoy these beings, he thought.

Eli's comment gave Treel an idea and he set off around the room again.  Perhaps he could use the boy's understanding of his goals to his benefit.

"Do you miss your father?"

Eli stopped playing with the pieces on the board and looked up.

"You know I do, Treel."

"What would you do if your father was being held captive by my people on Waa?"

"I'd do anything I could to get to him.  To save him."

 "I believe you would, Eli.  And that is a good thing.  It shows you care for him."  Treel stopped walking.  Turned to face the small human directly.  He waved his hand at the room they were in.  "And yet here I am.  Being kept from my family."

"That's different.  You invaded our planet.  You're here because of what
you
did.  Not because of what
we
did."

Treel was surprised again.  The boy understood the nuances of the Minith/Human relationship much better than he had thought. 

He tried a different tack.

"I'm not here because of what
I
did, Eli.  I'm here because of what my
leaders decided. 
I
didn't want to be here—away from my mate and my offspring—
they
sent me here.  I was just doing my job."

"Did you ever kill any humans while doing your job?"

Treel was tempted to lie.  Could not.

"Yes."

"Were you protecting yourself or anyone else when you killed them?"

"No."

Eli slammed his hand down on the playing surface.  The pieces flew up, then scattered across the floor.

"Well, my dad would never do that!"

The child stomped his foot for emphasis and Treel felt a twinge of shame.  He knew Eli was telling the truth.  The father would not kill unless forced to do so.  He knew the man well enough to know that. 

The slight pang of shame he had felt was quickly overshadowed by the aching need to get home.  It was accompanied by a sudden flash of anger which he bit down upon.  Swallowed forcibly.  He took a breath and stilled his ears.  Anger was not the way.

He tried a different path.

"Eli, are we friends?" 

The young human sat down slowly.  He began idly picking up the fallen pawns and returning them to their place on the board.

"Yes."

"If you could, would you help me get back home?  Back to my sons?"

The human slumped in his seat. 

"Yes," he sighed. 

Treel's anger was replaced by tentative hope.  The hope was followed by a strangely intense curiosity.

"Why?"  It was not the thing to ask—he should have pressed his advantage—but he could not stop himself.  He needed to know why the boy would ever help him after hearing that he had killed innocent humans.

"You need to get back to your kids.  And because I trust you."

Trust
.

Such a foreign concept for the Minith.

Trust.

He had heard the word before, but was not certain he understood its meaning.  He wondered what the word meant to Eli. 

"What does this mean?  'Trust?'" 

The human child grew still and thought for a minute before answering.

"Hard to explain.  We're friends, so I trust you.  But you can trust people who aren't your friends, too.  It means we can be safe around each other, no matter what.  And that when you say you are going to do something, you have to do it.  It's kind of like a promise, but you don't actually say that you promise."  The boy shook his head and tossed his hands up.  "I can't explain it very well.  Sorry."

But Treel thought he had explained it well enough.  Trust meant that Eli felt safe around him; and that was more than adequate for him.

Treel wondered if trust really existed among humans.  Could it exist?  It seemed like such an outlandish concept. 

Peace is nothing more than trust taken to an extreme. 

The Minith felt his mind expand with a sudden burst of insight at the thought.   For the first time, he caught a glimpse of how humans might have come to exist in their current form.  For peace to exist, it required trust.  Trust on a grand scale.

If you could not
trust
your neighbor not to steal from you, there could be no peace.  If you could not
trust
those with different thoughts or opinions not to fight you, there could be no peace. For peace to exist on a planet-wide scale like it had existed here on Earth, trust had to be nearly universal among the humans. 

Impossible
.

How could anyone expect their leaders, bosses, and overlords to act in a manner that instilled
trust
?  How could a male
trust
that his mate would not leave him for a better choice when the opportunity was presented?  How could a world of
billions
trust that none of their fellow humans would do them harm?  Or try to take advantage of them? 

At best, peace is a timid house of cards, ready to topple at the first small breath. 

No.  Without universal trust between each and every single human, peace was not possible.  At some point, trusts would be broken.  Those breaches would create fear, and those fears would highlight individual ambitions and differences.  Eventually, those ambitions and differences would drive a stake into the heart of peace.

But
trust
. 

Trust was a different animal.  Trust was a concept Treel could get behind, if only on a limited basis.  He could understand trusting his family—his sons and, to a lesser degree, his mate.  Perhaps he could even trust friends.

Of one thing he was certain.  If Eli's trust could help him get home, he would foster that emotion and use it to his benefit.

*     *     *

The last crate was placed and the workers left the Leadership Council's chambers.  When the door was finally closed on the last worker, Quasan Allah, the Musl'n Culture Leader, could not sit still any longer.

"What is in the boxes, Leader Trevino?"

Randalyn waited for a count of five before responding.  "They are weapons, Quasan.  Rifles, to be exact."

Gasps went up around the table.  Peace mantras were whispered.  Randalyn ignored the nonsense.  The time for Peace had left them years ago, and several of her peers had yet to realize that fact.  It was time they grew up, and she had just the thing to help them reach maturity.  She waited for the inevitable question; wondered from which of the other Culture Leaders it would come.  She guessed either Quasan or Sabatina Sabontay, the Urop'n representative.  They were the most vocal holdouts for Peace—a Peace that had once belonged to their world, but no longer. 

"Why would you bring weapons into the Council chambers, Randalyn?"  The Urop'n Leader remained true to form.  The question was tossed onto the table with the clipped, precise tones of Earth Standard language.  Randalyn missed the less-formal speech that had become the norm inside the former prison.  Grant, Mouse, and their warriors had pulled her own patterns of speech back to an easier, more relaxed cadence, and she had to concentrate on speaking in the manner to which her peers at the table were accustomed.

"It is a simple matter of expediency, Sabatina.  When the Minith arrive—and they will—I wish to be prepared.  I will not sit by this time while the aliens kill those around us."

Randalyn noticed the faces around the table at the reminder of the last time the Minith had visited their Council chambers.  After
that
visit, the table before them—well, the table that had preceded the table where they now sat—had bodies stacked upon it like cordwood.  Sabatina, Quasan, and Suyung Trey, the As'n Leader, closed their eyes at the memory.  Primo Esteval, the S'mercan Leader and the Leader Elect of the Council, showed no reaction, good or bad.

The reaction of the Afc'n Culture Leader, Diekela Mamun, was most surprising.  She met Randalyn's eyes and nodded in agreement. 

"I will also be prepared, should the Minith attempt to enter the building," she stated simply.  The announcement got the attention of the other members of the Council and she stared bravely at each of them in turn.

"It is a near certainty that the Minith will come here," Randalyn stated.  She and Grant, before he had left, and Mouse since then, had discussed the obvious targets for any Minith invasion force.  The two most logical places for the aliens to attack were Violent's Prison and Earth's Leadership Council building.  One was the military nerve center of the planet; the other was the cultural and political hub for Earth's population.  "That is why General Mouse has moved a large portion of our army to the city.  He wishes to be prepared when the alien forces arrive."

"But the soldiers in the armed forces can protect us," Quasan argued.  "They are trained for Violence.  Normal citizens are not."

"Just what
is
normal, Leader Allah?" Primo Esteval asked.  "Is it normal that we have thousands of troops camped outside the city?  Or that four alien motherships are two days away from our planet?  Can any of us afford to be 'normal' citizens in such a situation?  I think not.  I would arm every man, woman, and child who was willing to receive a weapon, if that is what it would take to turn back the Minith."

The depth of feeling the Leader Elect projected surprised everyone at the table, except Randalyn.  She had asked for, and received, his approval prior to bringing the weapons into the Council's chambers.  He had let her know then that he was willing to fight if needed.  To the others, Esteval was normally a centrist voice in their debates, someone who saw the benefits of all sides of a debate and who was unwilling to fall on one side or another unless he was forced to do so.  But that had obviously changed. 

"But we are a Peaceful race, Esteval," Sabatina said.  Her words were spoken calmly, but there was an underlying tone of urgency that struck Randalyn as pleading.  She was pleading for the past—for a way of life that had been stolen from them nearly twenty years earlier by the invading aliens.  Randalyn's heart went out to her fellow Leader.  If only they could turn back the clock. 

"We
were
a Peaceful race, Sabatina," the As'n Leader added.  Suyung's normally quiet demeanor lent immediate levity to her words.  When she spoke, the table always listened.  "But that time has passed.  If we fight the Minith, we have a chance to regain Peace.  If we do not fight, we will certainly lose it forever.  I will take up a weapon when the time arrives."

"I have already been trained on the rifle," Diekela announced.  "I will be ready."

"Have you all gone Violent?"  The undertone of pleading gave way to obvious disbelief.  Sabatina Sabontey raised her hands from the table's surface.  With her left, she indicated those at the table.  With her right, she pointed to the crates stacked next to the door.  "We are the Leaders of our respective Cultures.  How can we take up weapons and be an example for those whom we lead?"

"No, Sabatina." Quasan, her only ally, spoke up.  "How can we be an example for those we lead if we do
not
take up weapons against the invaders?"