He appeared to be in some type of hospital if the white room and bedding were any indication. The room he occupied was small, the bed and one chair the only furnishings. There were two doors leading from the room, one he guessed was a bathroom. The other one, the one the scientist had used earlier, obviously led to the rest of the building. There was a sign on the wall written in a language that vaguely resembled English. He gave up on trying to decipher it and decided to risk standing up after all. His bladder, real or manufactured – he didn’t know for sure nor did he care – was crying for release. And when Mother Nature called, you did not put her on hold.
He took a deep breath and planned his assault on the door he took to be the bathroom. The wall was only a few short steps from the bed and he carefully raised himself on his numbed feet. The first step was wobbly but without incident. The second pitched him forward and he tried in vain to catch the side of the bed as he fell. His arms failed to do their part, however, and he banged his head roughly on the hard tiled floor.
"Shit!" he exclaimed. As quickly as his right arm would allow, he lifted his hand to check the lump that was no doubt rising on his forehead. But the numbed fingers could detect no sign of the injury. They came away without any blood, however, and he took that as a good sign.
He continued toward the bathroom, dragging himself with his arms as he pushed with his legs. He reached the door after some effort, and looked up to the handle. It was not a handle at all but a strange type of clasp that he quickly figured out with his eyes but not so quickly with his hands. The nearly useless slabs of meat that the scientists had given him looked normal but were nearly useless at the moment. The scientist had said they would eventually be better than normal but Grant had his doubts.
He finally managed the device and the door opened inward to reveal another strange-looking device. The oddity of the device did not hide its purpose, however, and he noted the hand rails that lined the side walls of the tiny bathroom. He fought his way onto the toilet and did his business sitting down, grateful for the relief it provided. His arms and legs might be numb, but the lack of feeling did not extend to his bladder. If each trip to the john turned out this badly Grant decided he might just ask for a catheter instead. It might damage his pride but at least his head would remain unhurt.
He made it back to the bed without further injury and dragged himself into it, exhausted. The scientist said that this helplessness would last only a few days and Grant prayed it was true. He had been a strong man all of his adult life and his current weakness bothered him more than he cared to admit.
Minutes later, the door to the room swung open and Tane walked in, accompanied by an individual Grant did not know. The man was portly with a waxy face and a tremendous belly. He carried himself with a self-important air that Grant recognized immediately as arrogance. The man looked down on Grant as he was introduced by the scientist.
"Grant, this is Mr. Blue," Tane declared. His voice expressed reservations about introducing the two and Grant guessed the man to be superior to Tane in rank. "Mr. Blue is the Administrator of this facility, and is charged with overseeing this, uh...uh.....
"Experiment?" Grant offered sarcastically, seeing Tane’s unease in describing the present situation.
"Well, uh, yes, I guess," he stammered, still at a loss. "But, this is more than an experiment, Mr. Justice--"
"Call me Grant, Tane."
"Why, yes, certainly, Grant," Tane complied. "You see this is much more than an experiment. So much more. There is more at stake here than your new body or our regeneration of your new limbs, Grant."
"Really? It seems like a pretty big thing you've done here. I mean, how often can you bring a guy out of a six hundred year old sleep, give him a new body and a second chance at life, huh?" Grant looked at the two men and wondered if they could ever understand how he felt. "But the thing is, Tane, this is not my body. It's more yours than mine. Hell, this one doesn't work for shit!"
Mr. Blue gasped and retreated to the door. He glared accusingly at Tane who glared right back at him.
"Senior Scientist Rolan, you said he was at Peace! I cannot allow this behavior to exist in my facility. I will speak to Culture Leader Trevino about this, I can assure you!" The administrator turned to leave the room, but Tane stepped in front of the door, blocking the man's departure.
"Hold it, Blue! What did you expect? He is not like us.”
Grant watched and listened in confused silence at the two men. He had no idea what had upset the man called Mr. Blue but suddenly felt compelled to stay silent, not wanting to add any fuel to the fire.
“That does not concern me, Rolan!” Blue retorted. He stopped and looked down his nose at the senior scientist. It was apparent he wanted to leave the room as quickly as possible, but he seemed unwilling to force his way past the small scientist.
"I will not permit violence here." He looked over to Grant who diplomatically kept his mouth shut. "By anyone.”
"You have a choice, Mr. Blue. You can put up with Mr. Justice and his tendencies toward violence – and they have been minor tendencies at best – or you can put up with the Minith and what they represent for the rest of your life, and the rest of your children’s' lives, and their children. Do not forget what it is we are doing here. In this case, the end will justify the measures we take to accomplish our goal.”
Mr. Blue looked over to where Grant lay and pondered what the scientist said. Finally, he turned back to Tane and said, "I will take what you have said into account, but do not mistake my position. Violence, in any form, will not be tolerated in this facility. Is that understood?"
"Yes," Tane answered.
"Good. You are responsible for his behavior. Make sure that he understands what is expected of him. Also inform him what behaviors will not be tolerated." The man called Blue discussed Grant as if he were not present and he had to force himself not to respond to the overweight buffoon’s comments without first talking to Tane about what was being said.
"Very well," Tane answered and he moved away from the door. Mr. Blue paused to look briefly at Grant before he turned toward the door and left the room.
Tane appeared upset as the door closed, but quickly had himself under control. He turned toward Grant. "You have made an enemy, Grant. A powerful enemy."
"Who? That guy?" Grant asked, humored by the idea that the man could be of any danger to him. He had met plenty of those kinds of men before, bureaucrats who were full of their own importance and who used their positions to bully those around them into bending to their will.
"Yes. Mr. Blue is a very important man. He has been placed in charge of this effort by our Leadership Council and he has their ear. I do not believe he could stop what we are attempting to accomplish but he could slow us down if he wished, and that could be just as dangerous."
"You keep inferring that there is something going on around here that I'm involved with. Something other than just being your human guinea pig. Is there anything I should know, Senior Scientist Tane Rolan?"
"I was wondering when you would get to that, Grant," Tane said. "Yes, there is something. Something that requires your experience and background. It is the reason so much time and energy were put into your...uh, rehabilitation, shall we say?"
"Sure, rehabilitation. That's as good a term as any, I suppose. So what is this thing that I can help you with, Tane?"
The small scientist thought for a moment before telling Grant the story of how the Minith had arrived on the earth thirteen years before. He explained the hold they had placed on the world and its population. He described the quotas imposed by the aliens, their violence toward the humans of earth, he even described what he knew of their weapons. Tane relayed everything he knew, and even a great deal of what he only suspected, about the Minith to the man sitting on the hospital bed.
Grant was speechless through the scientist's tale, marveling at the turn the world had taken since his fateful dip in that ice-covered lake six hund
red years ago. Tane finished telling what he knew of the Minith and Grant spoke the question he had been dying to ask since the scientist began his tale.
"So where do I fit in? I mean surely with – how many billion did you say?"
"Sixty."
"Yeah, with sixty billion people on the planet, there must be someone else who can do what you need done. I mean, how can one person have any impact on this situation if sixty billion others can't?"
"Ah, Grant, but you can! You see, it all has to do with the world's population and how it has evolved since your time. These eyelids," Tane said pointing to the transparent second lids, "are not the only changes we humans have undergone. I told you yesterday that there is no violence. That means that there are no wars, and therefore there are no soldiers. We have no way to fight the Minith and drive them from our planet."
Tane stepped forward and reached out to take Grant's hand. "That is where you can help us. We need your ability, your knowledge of battle, to help us get rid of these aliens."
Grant released an exasperated sigh. "If what you've told me about the Minith is true, there's no way I can do anything. Even if I were able to get out of this bed. With a few hundred trained soldiers perhaps, but alone? Never."
"Then you must train us to be soldiers, Sergeant Grant Justice."
"Soldiers? You get offended when I say 'shit' or 'hell.' How am I supposed to train you to be a fighting force when I can't even say what’s on my mind? Damn, Tane, profanity is the fucking language of soldiers!" Tane winced at each of Grant's profanities, involuntarily driving the man's point home.
"I know, Grant, but there must be a way."
The scientist dropped wearily into the room’s only chair and put his head in his hands. "We have to think of a way."
"Look, Tane, you let me know if you think of anything, alright?" Grant was finished with the discussion, unable to consider the possibility of fighting off an alien invasion when he could not even make it to the bathroom without crawling. Hell, when he was alive, aliens were just a concept carried forward by crazies, or cinematic fodder for cheap movies.
"Right now, I want to work on getting my body back in shape. Maybe if I can learn to walk again I'll be able to think about the Minith. But not now, Tane. Not now."
Tane nodded and walked quietly to the door, his shoulders heavy with the possibility that Grant could not help them. "You know, Grant," he said, turning to look at the warrior. "I may be able to help you get on your feet sooner. If you do not mind some pain."
"Doc, right now, pain would be a welcome relief. I'm so numb I can't even feel my cock. And that’s not a good feeling, I assure you."
"Very well, then. I will return shortly with some medication to eliminate the numbness. Eventually, you may be able to control the nerve endings in your arms and legs at will, so that you can feel or not feel your limbs as you wish."
“What do you mean?”
“If our work went as planned, you should be able to feel pain or turn it off, as you wish.”
“Okay…” Grant could not foresee a use for the ability. He had always been keenly aware of his body and could not anticipate the desire not to feel any part of it. He suspected the ability was just another feather in the scientist's cap and thought nothing more about it. He did have a question for the man concerning his 'rehabilitation' and asked, "Tane, why didn't you give me a second set of eye lids? It seems like something you would have done while I was being 'rebuilt."
"Oh, I considered it, but your face does not have the necessary muscles to control the second set and they would not have worked. Also, your brain would not have recognized them, much the same as it does not recognize your new arms and legs yet. That is why you cannot use them as you would like just now.”
"So, I have to learn how to do everything all over again, huh? Walk, fight, run?"
"Not exactly, Grant. Your brain already knows how to do those things, it just needs time to adjust to your new limbs. The signals are being forwarded to your old limbs that were slightly different in size and shape. Your brain simply needs time to recognize the limbs you now possess. It is not a re-learning process, but a readjustment to a process already learned. It should go quickly."
"That's easy for you to say, Doc. I'm the one who can't go to the bathroom."
Tane smiled. "I'll send someone in with food soon."
"Great! I haven't eaten in...what? Over six hundred years!"
CHAPTER SIX
A week after Grant's revival, Tane was summoned to Mr. Blue's quarters to provide an update on the ancient soldier’s status. He entered the over-large suite of three rooms with some trepidation. He disliked the large man intensely, yet he needed his assistance and cooperation in relaying the progress of his mission to the Leadership Council. What the Council saw in Blue, Tane had no idea, and he was unsure of how to act toward the other man whom he found resting on one of the couches that filled the primary room of the suite. The posturing of the obese administrator was apparent and Tane had to repeat one of his personal Peace mantras to maintain his diplomacy and tact.
Although Mr. Blue's position as Administrator of the facility accorded him the uncommon luxury of three rooms of living space, Tane Rolan blanched at the waste. Living space was in extremely short supply, especially larger spaces, and Mr. Blue was not even married. Tane knew there were thousands of families living within a mile's radius from the hospital who were existing in tiny, one-room shelters. The waiting list for larger housing was interminable. Tane, although permitted similar quarters as Mr. Blue by virtue of his scientific standing, held only a small one room apartment. His desire for a larger apartment was inconsequential compared to the needs of others.
Tane ignored the familiar sense of disquiet he felt at Mr. Blue's wastefulness. It was the man's legal right and he had other matters that required his immediate attention. Not the least of those was convincing Mr. Blue that significant headway was being made by the project.
"Good day, Blue," Tane greeted the other man. He often ignored the man's title of 'Mr.' on purpose, a soft form of rebuke and one not overlooked by the other man, he knew. It was silly to do so now that he needed the man's backing and support, but the premium apartment and all of its wasted space made him angry. Besides, as Senior Scientist, he was not formally bound by culture-tradition to address the man by his title. They were equals.
"How goes the work, Rolan?" Blue asked, countering with a similar omission of title. Blue knew the other man's own quarters were a third the size of his own. He did not know it was at Tane’s choosing.
“It goes well. Better even than I had hoped. The man has extreme intelligence and an incredible amount of determination. I have never seen a man so driven to learn so much."
"Oh? And what has this man learned thus far?" Blue stressed the word 'man' as though to express his doubts about Grant's claim to the description. "It is only a week after all, Tane."
"Yes, only a week. But in that week he has learned to use his new body, almost to the level of his former ability, or so he says."
"So. He has learned to walk again, eh? That does not seem like so large an accomplishment."
"Not only to walk, Blue. He has learned much more. I would have estimated his recovery to take months whereas he has improved to a remarkable level in only a week. And what is even more significant, he elected to do so through great pain." Tane waited for Blue to comprehend the words, but the man only looked at him with a blank stare. He explained. "He was given the ability to block out pain, all pain if he so desired. He chose not to do so, and I tell you this – there was an incredible amount of pain for Grant Justice over the past week."
"So? He has a high tolerance to pain. I have heard of this phenomenon before. It happens quite often, I am told, in Violent's Prison. The fights, you know."
Tane became exasperated. "In Violent's Prison they do not have the ability to block the pain! Grant Justice has the ability but chooses not to use it. That says a great deal
for the man, Blue. I am not so sure you or I could do what he has done."
"Perhaps, Rolan, perhaps. Do not get out of Peace over this, my senior scientist. A high tolerance for pain is remarkable, I grant you, but not without precedence."
The scientist shook his head, unable to express his feelings of respect for the man he had helped rebuild. This pompous bureaucrat would never understand the soldier's mentality. He tried a different tack. One that he believed would impress even Blue.
"That is not all, Blue. He has learned more."
"What else?" Blue asked, yawning with feigned boredom. He inspected his nails in the quiet light of the room.
"He has been subjected to the information-transference educator, Blue." Tane referred to the rarely used education device that was still in the experimental stages. The device used subconscious transmissions and prompts to implant large volumes of detailed information directly to an individual's consciousness in a short amount of time. Due to the short supply of the devices, they were normally reserved for individuals who displayed an above average intelligence. It was decided that the device would be tried on Grant to test his ability to learn and retain data.
"Yes, so? We have agreed that they should be tried on him, even though I do not believe he will be capable of understanding anything through the process. What is there to report?"
Tane Rolan smiled. "He has shown a remarkable...uh, aptitude, Blue."
"You mean the heathen has benefited from the lessons?" Blue raised his eyebrows at this. Tane knew the administrator considered Justice an uneducated gladiator, revived for the single purpose of fighting the Minith. He had probably never considered the man might possess any significant degree of intelligence.
"When I last visited him this morning, he had worked his way through six different languages." He watched the other man carefully for his reaction and was rewarded with the sight of Blue, all four hundred pounds of him, nearly falling from his perch on the couch.
"Six? You must be mistaken!" Blue managed to right himself, but his mouth hung ajar as he studied the scientist's face for any sign of mistruth.