"The good news is that we probably won't have to face all those soldiers when we land. As we've discussed before, Waa is made up of four separate land ma.s.ses-large islands. Each island is separated from the others by thousands of kilometers. The Minith are spread out among the islands, which is good for us. Only a fourth of their fighters are stationed on the land ma.s.s where we will be landing. Of those forces, only twenty percent are staged in or near the city where we will be. So, we are looking at five-to-one odds at the initial point of contact."

The faces staring back appeared grim. Some showed worry; others showed fear. Now was not the time to pull punches or provide his leaders with anything less than the full truth of their circ.u.mstances.

"Any questions?"

A hand shot up from the back.

"Captain Meeker?" Meeker was a fighter pilot and the leader of Flight Bravo.

"General, do we know what type of forces we'll be facing when we land?"

"Good question. I wish I had a good answer," Grant said. "The reality is that we don't know much about the Minith forces on Waa other than their numbers and locations. What we've seen till now-both on Earth and on Telgora-might not tell the whole story. For example, we know the Minith have trained foot soldiers, and that they use vehicles similar to common carriers to deliver their troops to the battlefield. We also know from t.i.tan and Gee's experiences six year ago that they have s.p.a.ce-born fighters capable of damaging a mothership. We've never seen any evidence that they possess tanks, artillery, or planet-based fighters."

"They don't have fighter carriers on the ground?"

"I didn't say that, Captain," Grant explained. He did not want to give his forces false hope or false information. The reality was that he did not know what type of vehicles, weapons, or other fighting capabilities they could expect once they hit the ground. "I said we don't have evidence that they possess that capability. We've never seen them, and the ship's databanks don't describe any of those resources, but that does not mean they don't have them, or their equivalents. For all we know, they have everything we have and a whole lot more."

"Grant?"

"Yes, t.i.tan?" As a civilian, t.i.tan was not required to use Grant's t.i.tle. Grant did not mind, but some of the team leaders in the room shook their heads at the unintended slight.

"Those aren't good odds, even if the enemy doesn't have our weapons capabilities. Do we even stand a chance?"

There it is, Grant thought.

t.i.tan asked the million-dollar question-the one that everyone in the room had to be thinking about-and Grant was grateful. Although he would have eventually broached the subject if needed, receiving a direct query from a respected fighter like t.i.tan was best for morale. It did not change the reality of their circ.u.mstances, but allowed him to respond naturally, without appearing to be overly worried.

"Of course we have a chance." Grant offered a thin smile with the statement, and nodded for effect. He wanted to convey as much optimism as he could without pulling punches, and carefully considered his next words.

He had never considered himself much of a motivational speaker-had never had to be. His reliance on superior training and the personal motivations of those under his command had always seemed sufficient. A high degree of self-motivation was one of the traits he required of the members of h.e.l.l's Warriors. He did not have those luxuries now. Although these fighters were motivated, trained, and veterans of the battles on Telgora, they would have been considered newbs by most twenty-first-century standards.

So, he did what any twenty-first-century warrior would do when facing a team of twenty-seventh-century soldiers. He dipped into his playbook of worn coaching cliches and tired, movie-based motivational speeches for inspiration.

"It's not going to be easy. In fact, it's going to be d.a.m.n-near impossible. But if we fight hard and luck is on our side, we can win this fight," Grant began. He delivered his message from the core of his being and, over the next several minutes, he offered his best impression of the half-time speech of a coach trying to rally his team to overcome a huge deficit in their t.i.tle game.

His sprinkled references to "those we are fighting for on Earth" and "our duty and responsibility" and "our chance to free humanity" might have been viewed as cheesy or hollow to the cynical minds of his own time. But his lines were delivered with heartfelt sincerity and a pa.s.sion that was genuine. "None of us wanted this fight. All we wanted was Peace-and the right to live our lives free from slavery and injustice. But we will do what we have to do." Grant struggled to rein in his emotions as he concluded his speech. "Regardless of what happens on Waa, I am proud to be a part of this army. I am proud of each and every one of you."

The fighters a.s.sembled before him stood taller. Several nodded. The fear and worry that had been so plain in their faces was replaced by stony glares of resolution and determination.

t.i.tan broke the short silence that followed.

"Where do you want to use us?" The resolution and commitment were palpable in his tone. It was clear that the former violent was ready to fight now.

At Grant's insistence, t.i.tan had attached himself to the group of fifty dindin warriors from Telgora. Even though he could not share in their ma.s.s mind, the ex-prisoner seemed to fit in with the group of gray-fleshed Telgorans better than with the soldiers and pilots on the ship.

"I'm just getting to that," Grant answered. "I want everyone to listen up closely. You will need to brief your teams on what to expect when we land and what each of their roles will be. If anyone has any questions as I go through this, now is the time to ask. Anyone have any more questions before we start?"

No one did.

"It should be no surprise to any of you that we're hoping to catch the Minith with their pants down," he said.

His announcement was met with blank stares, and it took him a moment to realize his error.

"Let me explain what that means." He sighed.

CHAPTER 4.

Rala marched quickly up the steps and into the corridor that led to Governor Truk's offices. Outwardly, she presented the calm, aloof manner that most Minith had come to equate with her appearance. As the minister for trade, she was a powerful player among the higher echelons of Minith society and commerce. In addition to the power she wielded, Rala was a highly attractive, widowed female. These dual elements of power and beauty contributed to make her increasingly popular among her race.

But her outward calm was overshadowed by inner turmoil.

Rala clawed the tiny device hidden within the secret pocket she had sewn into the hem of her blouse. Rea.s.sured that it was still there, she entered the governor's outer office and presented herself to Ghin.

"h.e.l.lo, Ghin."

"Ah, Trade Minister Rala," the governor's aide responded. His slick, overly formal tone grated on Rala, as it always did. The male was interested in her, but was intelligent enough to know he did not have a chance. As a result, he acted as if she was beneath his consideration. Although it caused their limited interactions to be uncomfortably stiff, it also served to make them mercifully short. Rala considered it a satisfactory trade-off.

"The governor is expecting me, I a.s.sume?"

"Yes. Go right in," he said, offering a fake smile.

The governor was seated at his large, ornate desk when Rala entered. He looked up from the work on his desk and gave her a quick nod. Her presence acknowledged, he turned his focus back to the monitor on his desk.

As a frequent visitor to the office, Rala knew the expected protocol and silently took the chair placed in front of the governor's desk. As she lowered herself onto the hard surface, she could not help but notice-again-the disparity in height and comfort between the chair where she sat and the one Truk occupied. The opulence of his throne would have been an embarra.s.sment to most Minith. The rich purple upholstery, bejeweled back, and intricately carved legs were overshadowed only by the gaudiness of the chair's height and width.

She felt for the device in her blouse and quickly removed it.

Her pulse slowed at once. The ability to perform that maneuver without being detected had worried her for days. The act itself was anticlimactic. But the listening unit was now in her right hand, which she lowered slowly. She only needed to affix it to the bottom of her chair and she would- "Rala, what do you think you are doing?"

The question cut the air and she yanked her hand back to her lap.

Governor Truk's eyes were still focused on the monitor he sat behind. There was no way he could have seen the movement.

"Um," she said. Rarely was she at a loss for what words were needed in any situation, but that was the case now. "I don't understand, Governor."

Truk looked up from the monitor, his eyes suddenly fixed on hers.

"Telgora, Rala. General Soo. Earth?"

Rala's pulse slowed down for the second time in as many minutes. He was talking about Telgora.

"Soo tells me he is headed to Earth?" Truk's question was more of statement. Soo had apparently informed Truk who had ordered him to abandon the siege of Telgora and move against the humans on Earth. Knowing her mate's brother, he had probably laid the entire plan at her feet to save his own hide. The fact that it was her plan made no difference to Rala.

"Yes, sir." She fought the urge to flick her ears; the movement would let Truk know she was caught off guard by his questioning. "As you know, humans landed on Telgora. They helped the natives defeat our forces and take over the agsel mines there."

"Yes," Truk acknowledged. "But that does not explain why you sent my general and four motherships to the end of the galaxy."

"Governor Truk, I sent General Soo to Earth because the humans obviously control the Telgorans now. Those idiots could not have taken our mines without their interference."

"How does sending Soo to Earth get our mines back?" The volume of Truk's voice increased with each word. Rala was on shaky ground. She could not tell the male about the Zrthn influence on the decision. He did not need to know, nor would he ever understand. But she could tell him the reasoning behind the directive. That still made sense.

"Governor Truk, the humans are weak. And they are protective of their people. I felt the best way-no, the only way-to get the mines back would be through the humans. If we crush them where they live, the few who control the natives on Telgora will be forced to cede the mines to us."

Truk stared at her, but said nothing. Rala wondered what he was thinking, but he gave no clue.

"You are dismissed for now," he stated. Rala nodded. As she started to rise, Truk bowed his head back to his desk. Without hesitating, she reached her right hand down and pressed the small, flat listening device to the underside of the chair.

Oiloo had insisted it would attach itself with minimal pressure, and he was right.

The Zrthn listened to the entire exchange with interest. He had told Rala that once the device was in place, she would be able to listen to everything that happened in Truk's office. That was true.

He had not informed her that he would be listening in as well.

CHAPTER 5.

The mothership rattled like a pieced-together jalopy bouncing along the roughest dirt road Grant could imagine at a hundred miles an hour. He clutched the console with all his might and fought to keep his teeth tightly clenched. The brutal shuddering threatened to dislodge every nut, bolt, and weld that held the laboring vessel together. A rising explosion of distress and anger filled the command center as the ship's engines fought to slow the behemoth's pa.s.sage through the vacuum of s.p.a.ce.

The noise and quaking grew in their intensity long after Grant knew they couldn't get any worse. The lights in the ship flickered, dimmed, finally went dark. An occasional spark thrown from the control panel or ceiling provided the only light, and during these brief flashes, Grant spied Gee's bouncing form struggling to keep his place at the controls. The warrior worried that he had demanded too much of the engineer. He worried that they had demanded too much from the mothership.

They were asking her to stop on a dime, and she was p.i.s.sed.

The ship's anger and rebellion finally reached the point where death seemed unavoidable. In that brief moment, Grant offered silent goodbyes to Avery and Eli. He sent thoughts of apology, love, and regret to the men, women, and Telgorans who would soon die with him. He thought of the billions on Earth who would have to stand up to the Minith. Finally, he sent a prayer to the G.o.d he had abandoned in his youth.

And then he waited for the end.

But the end never came. Instead, the ship took a breath. Then she took another.

It took a few minutes for Grant to notice the change in her att.i.tude. At first he wasn't quite sure, but when the lights flickered and returned, he knew they had pa.s.sed the worst of the storm. The mothership was relaxing, shaking off the remnants of her anger and resistance.

When the normal hum of the engines returned, Grant looked at the time.

Twenty minutes had pa.s.sed in mere hours.

"Amazing," Gee said.

Patahbay felt the tingling in his head moments after the ship stopped shaking. He reached out to the Family surrounding him and found concurrence.

No words were required. The fifty Telgoran fighters joined minds and reached out as a single unit.

The effort was sufficient.

They received instructions from the planet and nodded in shiale.

As the spokesperson for their group, Patahbay rose from the circle of Family and set off to find the general.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Although a uniquely human expression, the Minith would have understood its meaning perfectly.

When the mothership appeared on their detection systems unexpectedly, and-more importantly-only thirty thousand miles away, the well-trained operators knew they were facing trouble. They did not know the extent of the problem, or its source, but it did not matter. The training and protocols established by General Soo to protect the planet and their people from a potential Zrthn invasion kicked in.

The Minith took immediate action.

It took less than sixty seconds for the operators to notify the top Minith commander on Waa, General Spaak, of the mothership's appearance.

As General Soo's handpicked replacement during his absence, Spaak knew his duty and carried it out with similar efficiency. Within three minutes, every military force across the planet was notified and mobilized. Once that was completed, the general set off to notify his governor of the situation.

Between the initial moment of the ship's detection and Spaak's verbal notification to Governor Truk, less than ten minutes had elapsed.

Thanks to the device the Minith female had planted, Oiloo received the report at the same time as Governor Truk. His surprise was nearly as great as that of the Minith leader. He had not expected the humans-who else could it be?-to be so bold.

There was obviously more to these pale bi-peds than he had previously considered. Who knew these formerly mild-mannered inhabitants from the farthest outpost in the galaxy could be so complex, or could behave so far outside the norms of their natural character?

Oiloo was accustomed to having more information than his opponents. He was used to knowing their moves and their motivations as soon or sooner than they themselves did. This nugget of information about the arrival of the humans near Waa was a perfect example.

Every Zrthn was raised on the premise that knowledge is power. It is a given that he who has the most knowledge of a situation is always in the best position to come out ahead. It was why he and his people expended so much of their resources on intelligence techniques and data gathering.

The Zrthn trade arranger sent off a quick message to the administrators, alerting them to the latest developments. Hopefully, they would recognize the danger and allow him to take direct action. He was more convinced than ever that these humans were a threat to Zrthn interests.

They were an unknown, and Oiloo's beliefs regarding interplanetary political-economic norms did not allow for unknowns.

"Let me get this straight," Grant said. "The Waa told you we needed to land there?"

"Yes, General." Patahbay stood unmoving. As usual, his long, alien face revealed nothing of his internal emotions or thoughts. "They are preparing for our arrival."

"So you can communicate with the Waa telepathically?"

"We share a form of Ma.s.s Mind with the Waa, General. It is unlike what we share with the Family, but more than we can share with humans."