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  The ability to serve is sanity, health, and… life.

  For millions of years—longer than their collective memories could recall—the requirement to serve was achieved through devout attendance to a species called the Chih. As far as sentient species go, the Chih were at the lower end of the Waa scale used to define intelligence. They were a "two." Despite the low rating, the Chih possessed a hidden mind and filled the need, so they were captured, tamed, and absorbed into the Waa culture. Once absorbed, the Waa met every desire and request of the Chih. These needs were simple, the requests were few: food, a warm place to sleep, affection. All were given upon request, and the Waa compulsion to serve was accomplished.

  To humans, the Chih might be considered pets. They were small, furry, six-legged creatures that posed no threat to the Waa. They were easily pleased and coexisted well with their hosts. But to the Waa, they were more than pets. They were necessary companions who filled a crucial need for servitude which kept the Waa healthy.

  It was during this period—known as The Time of Chih—that the majority of cultural advances took place for the Waa. The symbiotic relationship advanced thinking and research in all areas of Waa life, including architecture, art, philosophy, and science.

  One by-product of The Time of Chih was space travel.

  The consideration, research, and ultimate realization of interstellar travel occurred in a relatively short period of time. In human terms, the time that passed between when the Waa first considered the possibility of traveling to distant worlds to when they actually made it a reality was less than forty years. When space travel was first developed, it was an intriguing experiment and little more. Agsel, which is required for interstellar travel, was in limited supply on Waa and was quickly expended building a pair of rudimentary ships. Those initial ships were much smaller than the motherships that would eventually be produced for the Minith.

  Because their supply of agsel was depleted, one of the initial goals of the Waa space effort was to locate and obtain additional deposits of the ore. It did not take long to find Telgora. The planet was quickly identified as the largest source of agsel within the nearest solar system, and the Waa started making plans.

  The Waa were not desperate for the ore, so they took time studying the planet and its inhabitants. The primary species inhabiting the planet were sentient underground dwellers that lived within the slim strip of ground around the planet's center. Because they lived underground, the Waa could not easily determine if they were dangerous or amenable to an unannounced visit from the sky. As a result, the Waa determined that a low-level pass over the caves was needed. It was during that pass that the "oneness" aboard the Waa vessel and the "mass mind" of the Telgorans intersected for the first time. It was immediate recognition and acceptance for both groups. The Waa did not land, but conveyed their desire to establish mines on the planet. After a year-long wait, the Telgorans reached shiale, and a trade pact was formed. For the next two hundred years, the two races traded. They each prospered and quickly became trusted friends and partners.

  During this period, the Waa greatly improved their ships, using the superior agsel from Telgora. They made significant upgrades to their drive designs, ship controls, and guidance systems. Each improvement allowed the Waa, along with an accompanying contingent of Chih, to travel farther from their home planet. They met other races and began trading the knowledge of space travel, along with shipments of agsel ore, to planets in exchange for scientific discoveries and knowledge that they felt could improve their existence on Waa. Their ability to understand others' thoughts and motivations, without a reciprocal understanding, aided them immensely. When they encountered a race they felt was not amenable to a visit, or that was not sufficiently advanced to offer them anything of value, they noted the data in their growing information base and went on to the next planet.

  They instinctively traveled toward the center of the galaxy, where the stars and worlds were more plentiful. There was no need to travel outward, toward the fringe.

  Until the Chih got sick.

  The Waa were very conscious of the possibility of picking up disease, germs, and unfamiliar bacteria on each planet they visited. As a defense against these hazards, they developed complex, detailed methods of screening for potential hazards, and followed them without fail. Despite their precautions, the Chih fell ill. The Waa were never certain which world delivered the illness to the Chih. Not that it really mattered. What mattered was that the disease was contracted by a ship-bound Chih and returned to the entire species on Waa.

  Within six months of first contraction, the last Chih fell dead.

  The Waa were devastated. Their "oneness," always a source of communal healing and health, quickly became a tumor. They had no one to serve. The companions they had absorbed into their lives—the furry little creatures they had grown to love and that were crucial to their very health—were gone. When the "oneness" feels pain, there is no escaping it, even for a moment.

  The Waa struggled to regroup. They knew the death of the Chih meant the slow deterioration of their mental health and physical wellness. Unless they found another species to serve, they would eventually cease to function. They immediately redirected all of their space-born efforts to finding another race to serve.

  The search proved difficult. Through the course of their prior travels, they had never run across any species whose thoughts they could not understand—a species they could devote their lives to attending. Until now, it was an interesting but inconsequential side note, an important fact only because it gave them an advantage in trade negotiations. But now it took on a special significance. If they were to survive, they had to replace the Chih with another species whose minds were closed to them.

  Eventually, they turned their attention outward, to the fringes. And their travels took them to Earth.

  Unlike most worlds, which possessed a limited number of species, Earth offered thousands and thousands. This was both good and bad. With so many species on the planet, there was a good chance of finding one or more who would meet the requirement of the closed mind. Unfortunately, the Waa could not determine this from the comfort of space. There were so many thoughts intruding into the "oneness" from so many different species, it was impossible to determine which thoughts belonged to which species—with one exception. The Waa could easily read the thoughts of the planet's dominant species, humans.

  With a sense of optimism—and a desire to avoid humans—the Waa began capturing and testing as many Earth species as possible. In most instances, the species were obtained with little trouble. In the deserts, oceans, and uninhabited regions of the world, they sent in smaller ships—vessels designed for stealth and speed—to catch, test, and release hundreds of species. The instances of being observed by humans were rare, but they did occur. On these occasions, the humans were always captured and tested as a control to see if their minds might be individually closed. They never were, and in every case where this happened, the "oneness" of the Waa was used to eliminate any traces of the events from the humans' memories.

  It took the Waa more than thirty years, from Earth years 1946 to 1979, to complete the testing. Despite their initial optimism, no species was found that could fill the gap left by the Chih. The planet possessed nothing else the Waa desired, so they moved on to other worlds.

  Some years later, the Waa found the Minith.

  The species was not ideal for their purposes. Unlike the Chih, who rated a "two" on the Waa intelligence scale, the Minith rated significantly higher, with a "five." In addition to the additional intelligence, the new species appeared to display violent, aggressive tendencies within their own race. Unable to determine if these tendencies would be directed at other races, the Waa were wary. But ultimately they had no choice. They were in decline, and the Minith met their only requirement—a closed mind.

  The Waa landed on the Minith home world as soon as they could.

  They were desperate to serve.

  * * *
r />   Grant opened his eyes, both literally and figuratively. He now understood why the Waa needed the Minith. They had traded the symbiotic relationship they had shared with the Chih for a parasitic relationship with the Minith.

  No wonder these poor bastards are hiding underground. They lost the beloved family pet and replaced it with the boogie man.

  "The Chih were more than pets, and the Minith fulfill our need," the Waa on the right stated.

  "Yeah, whatever," Grant replied absently. He was already thinking about something else. "So tell me, if the Chih were a 'two' on your intelligence scale and the Minith are a 'five,' where do humans rate?"

  "Humans are a 'six.'"

  Grant nodded, pleased they had confirmed his belief that the large aliens weren't as bright as humans.

  "Where do you guys rank yourselves and the Telgorans?"

  "We are a 'nine' and the Telgorans are a 'four.'"

  Grant laughed. Obviously, they would rank their own intelligence higher than any other race. They had willingly enslaved themselves to the Minith, yet they were the smart ones.

  "We serve the Minith, but we are not slaves."

  Grant blinked. It would take time to get used to their ability. He wondered if there was a way to block it.

  "We have never encountered a human who could prevent us from receiving its thoughts," the center alien replied. "If it is of any comfort, please know that we only intrude when necessary."

  Grant almost asked who determined necessity, but held back. It was obvious that any race that considered itself a "nine" on the mental chart would believe it to be their right to impose that choice on a race of "sixes." The three aliens blinked as one; gave a single, slight nod.

  Message received.

  He ignored the slight, though he doubted his hosts would acknowledge it as such, and changed mental gears.

  "I don't see the distinction. You serve them. You build their ships and allowed them to take over your planet. If that's not slavery, I don't know what is."

  "It is our nature to serve," the middle alien said simply, as if that explained everything. Grant gave up and let it slide. He had already come to grips with the fact that he would never understand the Telgorans, with their need to endlessly debate every decision they ever made. It was what it was, and they were who they were—an entirely different race. There was no reason to expect to understand the Waa any better.

  "So, why did you wait so long before agreeing to meet with me?"

  The Waa in the center—Grant wished he had a name to go with the green face and big, black bug-eyes—resumed his role as spokesperson for the trio.

  "You may call me Aal." It sounded like "all" to Grant, but the introduction was accompanied by a mental picture of the spelling in Earth Standard—what Grant still thought of as Uppity Queen's English. "We agreed to speak with you because your body is healed of its physical wounds. We believe your mind is also well enough to accept your circumstances."

  "There's nothing wrong with my mind, pal," Grant growled. Not true, growled his inner voice. He glanced nervously over his shoulder at Titan and Conway. Neither returned the look, their eyes cast toward the floor. He turned back to Aal and his posse only to be met with another joint blink.

  "Sheesh."

  "You should not be concerned. You will be fine," Aal stated simply, but loud enough to be heard at the back of the room. The message was obviously intended for all three humans.

  "That's good to know." Grant sighed, suddenly tired of the exchange and his place in it.

 

  "I'm all ears."

 

  Fine, Grant thought. In that case, I'm all mind.

  Although difficult at first, using only their minds to communicate soon felt natural to Grant. It also had distinct advantages over verbal conversation. In addition to understanding the words being exchanged, they were able to share emotions, images, and intent. It was powerful. It was also quick. The conversation lasted less than five minutes, but Grant received more information in those few minutes than he had ever received in the best hour-long discussion of his life.

  The Waa needed the Minith, but that did not mean they wanted the Minith. Despite their claims to the contrary, they were slaves in their own way—relegated to a subterranean existence that was foreign to the natural top-dwellers. It was clear after only a few moments that they wanted to stop hiding, needed to see the sun and experience the stars as they once had. To do that, they needed Grant's help. Initially, he balked. What could he and a handful of fighters do against a world of well-armed aliens? The Waa shared their thoughts and his doubts began to ebb.

  Although the Waa could not see inside the minds of the Minith, they had spent years studying them—their culture, anatomy, tendencies, likes, dislikes, moral values, thinking patterns—basically, every aspect of their being. While they could not possibly pass on all of the knowledge they held to Grant in such a limited amount of time, the truth was clear. The sheer volume of knowledge the Waa possessed about the aliens was astounding. They probably understood the Minith better than the Minith understood themselves.

  Aal and his partners confirmed what Treel had shared years earlier. Defeat a Minith in battle and you win not only the battle, but their allegiance as well—at least until they were able to regain the upper hand. Grant had relied on this when deciding to attack the Minith on Waa in the first place—subjugate the Minith governor, and you become his superior. And while it was good to have validation of the information upon which his plan had been based, it did little to cool the molten core of failure that still ran through his body.

  What did help ease his inner pain was the knowledge of a weapon the Waa had developed—a weapon they wanted Grant to use. It was non-lethal, of course. They could not kill the parasite that kept them healthy, even if the parasite made them unhappy. But it was a weapon that could turn the tide in the human's—and the Waa's—favor.

  When Grant asked why they did not use the weapon on the Minith themselves, he realized that the Waa understood themselves as well as they understood the Minith.

 

  "Yeah, I can see how that might be a problem," Grant thought. "But what makes you think we want to dominate the Minith for you? We just want to be left alone."

 

  Grant had to give it to them. They could read his mind after all—already knew his thoughts. It was too late to simply retreat back to Earth and hope everything would be fine. Eventually, the Minith—or some other race—would come calling and want another piece of humanity. Now that they knew threats existed from outside their own solar system, they had to be prepared to meet them.

  "You're right. I do know. It has to end here."

  Three pairs of large, dark eyes blinked in unison. Three pairs of hands lifted as each of the Waa began lightly, but quickly tapping the ends of their fingers together. The movement only lasted a couple of seconds, and Grant could not tell if the action denoted applause, some form of communication, or excitement—but it was damn strange.

 

  Grant grunted. He could understand how they might be feeling anticipation. They had been underground for a long time.

  "Well, you're not out of jail yet. We still have to make this work."

  The next several minutes were dedicated to outlining a rough plan. The device upon which the plan relied was small, and easily fit in Grant's palm. Keeping it hidden until time to use it would not be a problem unless he was captured and searched. What had seemed impossible only moments before—ultimate victory over the Minith—now seemed within their reach.

  At the very last, the trio informed Grant that other humans were ali
ve and being held by the Minith. Any residual doubts he might have had were settled with the announcement. Agreeing to help the Waa was a simple matter, once he understood that he would also be helping the remaining living humans on the planet. It was a no-brainer.

  Their discussion concluded, he nodded a quick goodbye, anxious to leave. For the first time in months, he felt the familiar, comforting yearn of commitment. It was fueled by urgency and a new sense of purpose.

  He and his small team of human and Telgoran soldiers had work to do—work that could not wait.

  CHAPTER 28

  After the failed human attack, Governor Truk had surrounded his home and offices with dozens of Minith troops. Rala passed through the checkpoints without comment, as she had every day for the past three months. But it was becoming more and more difficult to hold her tongue. The idiocy was just too much. Most of these soldiers saw her enter Truk's office time and again, but still they insisted on stopping her to check her name against the list of approved visitors. The delays were minor, and the soldiers seemed apologetic at the unnecessary measures, but they had their orders.

  If truth be told, she knew the males enjoyed her visits, and often argued over who would be the lucky one to speak to her, if only briefly. She had never heard them herself, but word had gotten back to her through her numerous contacts. If the interruptions weren't so annoying, she might have been flattered.

  Truk was convinced the added security was needed—as if the humans could ever capture another mothership. It was not only preposterous, it bordered on the paranoid. But Truk was not the first Minith leader to give in to the often-accurate feeling that someone was trying to knock him from his perch. Nor would he be the last, she knew. The mantle of power and authority came with a target that sat firmly between one's shoulder blades.