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Book 1 - Chapter 8
🕑 Added 2020-01-01 14:58:25 +0000 UTCVeterans Long-Term Care Hospital
Michael was driving toward the first person he wanted to meet, a man from his past. It was a five-hour drive, so he started the trip early, exiting the cabin as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake up the girls. He put his favorite country music on and entered a Zen-like state of mind, where miles were measured by how many tracks he already listened to.
Colonel Jack Williams was his superior in the Delta Force, and a friend who always had Michaels back. In the end, he sacrificed himself to save Michael and his team members. Over the years, he visited Jack regularly, taking the long drives or flying to spend a few hours with the man. Last night he called him to arrange this visit, or salesman’s pitch, as he was calling it. Jack had all the talents he needed to get this show on the right track, and he hoped the old man would accept his invitation.
Arriving at the veterans' long-term care facility put a damper on his mood. A big depressing building with unvarying gray walls was not a place where a war hero should spend his days. The staff did their best to make the lives of their patients easier, but there was an atmosphere of sadness and despair permeating the place; as his friend often said, this was where broken soldiers came to die, and no amount of cheering up could change that. Well, Jack, your luck is about to change.
He signed in at admittance desk, where the familiar nurse smiled and said the Colonel was expecting him. He took the elevator and walked into the room, as he did many times before. This time something was different; when he opened the door, he could see Jack was not alone. He was sitting in his wheelchair, with a few more people around a small table. Three more men who were as close as brothers to Michael. Tyron with an eye patch over his right eye, and a knowing smirk; Pete, and Al, two deadly goofs, with familiar smiles on their faces.
Seeing them all together, set his memory back through the years, on the other side of the world, to the place that was mostly sun and sand...
***
Middle East
(14 Years Ago)
The hot dusty desert air was making Michael’s throat dry, and the scarf covering his face was of little help. It is not the sand he particularly disliked, it was the dust… it got into everything.
They were not even supposed to be here, it was a last-minute thing and a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. On the other hand, as soldiers, their duty was to follow orders, no matter how inconvenient those orders were.
The team had just returned to the base from the previous mission. They had, in fact, returned a day early from the schedule and were taking the lukewarm showers, to wash away all the grime. Michael could almost taste the cold beer sliding down his throat since they made plans for some well-earned R&R in the local town, which was under the Army’s control—when the new orders arrived. They were going back in the frying pan... that had fallen into the fire.
As operators, this was not so unusual; you go where they need you, and fix other peoples’ mistakes. It was presented as a simple operation, get in, free the hostages, and get out. Of course, there is no such thing as a simple operation. Only delusional officers who planned them can say something so ridiculous; that is the way Michael always thought about Military Intelligence, as a big ass oxymoron.
Apparently, some dumb politician has managed to get himself and his family kidnapped by the local terrorist cell. What kind of an idiot would bring his family to a war zone just to get more exposure and pick up a few extra votes? Now, it was the team's job to get them out, before the terrorists decided to cut a few heads off on Live TV, all in the name of their god and crazy-ass convictions.
Intel was good, location, satellite images, the opposition numbers... what could go wrong?
Michael looked at the rest of his team, as they were sitting strapped into the uncomfortable helicopter seats. Tyron, Pete, and Al, or as they liked to call themselves, the four musketeers—one for all and all for one.
Pete and Al were more of a comedy act, always making jokes and getting into all kinds of avoidable troubles, while Tyron was a silent one, but hardly unnoticed. Well, when you are 7' feet tall with 330 lbs. of muscles, you will get noticed. The four of them were a team; working together so close-knit they could predict each other’s reaction to almost any situation. This was what they trained to do, a high risk and high gain operations when regular soldiers were unable to save the day. Or where the powers that be needed to claim plausible deniability, for the sake of international political relations.
The insertion plan went according to the plans. A small settlement in the middle of the desert that used to be a peaceful community built around a small oasis, before the bad guys took it over, and killed all the natives. Now only one building was somewhat livable, all the others were crumbling ruins, a perfect spot for a hideaway. Add to that the fact that this location was miles inside the neighboring country, one that they were not allowed to be in.
The main terrorist group was away on another kidnapping mission, so there would be minimal opposition at the site; it was the window of opportunity the team had every intention to exploit.
Everything went off without a hitch, at least the first part of the operation. The three guards on the outside perimeter were quickly silenced, and after entering the building, they finished off the rest of the bad guys. The terrorists made one back room of their headquarters into a makeshift prison and the hostages were exactly where they were supposed to be. In a small boarded up room, with no sanitary facilities except an old rusty bucket that reeked to high heavens. However, there was a glitch in the plan, a huge oversight of those desk pilots in the intelligence section.
The mission was to find and rescue three people, and all their plans revolved around that. Instead, the team found… fifteen.
Besides the idiot politician and his family, there was a group of Doctors Without Borders and six children under their care. It wasn’t even an option to leave the extras to the mercies of their kidnappers, so their carefully planned extraction strategy went in the same direction as the Dodo bird.
Michael called the Black Hawk chopper parked a few miles away, and it came a few minutes later. One thing was evident—it was not possible to fit so many people in it. Someone would need to stay behind. To make the whole thing a complete FUBAR, the pilot saw a convoy of terrorist troops moving towards their location.
The chopper was emptied of the unnecessary things, seats, equipment, and every single piece of ammunition it carried. Then they loaded all the people on it, packed them like sardines, barely managing to fit everybody inside. The pilot was sweating bullets, calculating all this additional weight, and Michael saw him cross himself before the takeoff. For all that, the bird managed to lift, if a bit strenuously.
That was it, the hostages were safe, and the team was left in one place where no sane person wanted to be, at grand zero of an impending terrorist attack.
Michael got their commander, Col. Jack Williams, on the sat-phone, and was promised that a second bird will come to pick them up, as soon as possible. They needed to hold their position until then—and they did.
To this day Michael wasn't sure how many of the terrorists died that day, he just knew it was a lot. The team didn't go unscathed, all had some injuries; a few minor bullet holes and a lot of lacerations from flying debris made by the rain of bullets fired in their direction.
Without any sense and reason, the terrorist combatants kept coming, with screams of devotion to their divinity as they ran into the team's precise fire. When he thought about it later, the fight was not long, but at the time it seemed to him as if they were there for ages.
Time goes by differently when you are in the zone; when you can be alive in one second and dead in the very next.
The beautiful sound of a helicopter's engine broke through the constant booming sounds of gunfire; another Black Hawk, that the Colonel had promised, finally arrived. After sending a few rockets and a couple of thousand rounds toward their opposition, the little settlement was peaceful again, at least the terrorists were.
Michael looked at his brothers, and saw that the entire team was bloody, dirty, and dog-tired. In spite of all that, there were smiles on their faces; they had done what was needed.
Michael and Tyron had to help Pete and Al walk since they were semi-mobile, and moving towards the bird that landed on a clear piece of land, took some effort. Col. Jack came out of the helicopter, slowly walking in their direction. Michael was looking directly at the older man when he saw his expression changing to one of panic.
He started running towards them, reaching for the gun on his belt, and screaming something inaudible to their still ringing ears. Michael raised his gun, pointing the barrel toward the direction where Col. Jack was looking, but it was a second too late. He saw what got the Colonel so alarmed. A kid no older than sixteen was exiting one of the run-down houses, wearing a bomb vest. That moment engraved itself in Michael's mind, the fanatical look on the young man's face, filled with bottomless hate. His finger increased the pressure on the trigger but the young man was already pressing the detonator.
There was a tremendous explosion, an intense pressure wave that threw them all to the ground. In retrospect, he could say that they were extremely lucky – none of them died. The colonel's shout made the young terrorist act prematurely, and from the distance that was not ideal for maximum effect. Inevitably, there were some consequences of being too close to the exploding bomb.
Col. Jack was injured the worst, a fragment of the bomb severed his spine, amongst other injuries, and he would never walk again. Tyron has lost an eye and had so many bomb fragments in his massive body that would light up every airport scanner in the world. Pete and Al were fortunate that Michael and Tyron moved to stand in front of them so they got off easy. Michael acquired a new collection of impressive scars and a shattered knee.
Somehow, with the help of the medic and the pilot, they managed to get themselves inside the chopper, and to the base. To Michael, the whole trip was shrouded in a fog, as the pain and exhaustion were threatening to shut down his consciousness.
But they did get back, in far worse condition, with a completed mission, and with fifteen lives saved. Even with their injuries, there was a sense of accomplishment. They did their jobs, and if asked to do it all over again, knowing the consequences, they would.
A few months later, due to the severity of their various injuries, the entire team was officially out of the military.
***
Veterans Long-Term Care Hospital
Michael shook his head to clear the last images of a vivid flashback he experienced.
“The prodigal son returns!” Al said with a big grin.
“I took the liberty and summoned these miscreants; you said last night that you had something to talk about that concerns all of us. God knows how hard it is to bring you all back together at the same time, without me playing a guilt card,” Jack said with a smirk.
After a round of traditional 'bro hugs, they were all sitting around a small dining table.
Tyron looked at Michael and said, “Well, one thing I noticed is that somehow between the time I last saw you a few months ago and now, you managed to lose your limp, and I know how much that knee was busted, care to share…”
Michael looked at four men that he considered were part of his extended family; there was an evident interest in their eyes to finding out what Tyron noticed first.
“That is something I wanted to talk to you about, it may sound strange and unbelievable, but on my honor, every single thing I’m about to tell you is the truth.”
In the end, it didn’t really matter if they believed him or not, he was part of the team and if he asked them for their help, it would be enough.
It took a while, but he told them everything that happened. By now, telling the story was easier and smoother; Elizabeth, Anna, and Dave heard it previously, and now he only needed to add newer developments.
“Damn son… that’s quite a tale,” Jack said, after Michael was finished, “what do you want us to do?” he asked after the other men looked at each other and reached a silent, but unanimous consensus.
It was what Michael expected, unquestionable acceptance and an offer to help. While talking about the healing properties of medical nanites he noticed Tyron’s hand touching the eye-patch that hid an empty socket.
“I need people I can trust, and in this room are the people I trust most in the world.” He looked through the window. “To get this undertaking off the ground will require preparation and planning, and the driving core needs to have a military mindset. You are it. Logistics, recruiting, security,” he looked them in the eyes. “Can you imagine what this technology can do… how can it better our lives, and simultaneously destroy them? Now, I have a plan, it does not come without risks. There are people out there who would kill and torture us and our families for any information if they figure out what we have and what we plan to do. Our own government included.”
They all nodded their heads, knowing from personal experience how far the government would go if there was something they really wanted. Some of their past missions did come close to the other side of that border.
“We need to recruit a lot of people, and it is very difficult to keep something like this hidden. So, for starters, I need you to consider those you trust, and start the process of bringing them in.”
Jack looked at Michael with a deep penetrating gaze. “Michael, what you are going to end up with is an army, and who are you going to fight with it?”
“Not really an army, but a large group of people with an army mindset. We need individuals who we can trust to guard our backs in times when things are not easy-going. We will be the tip of the spear that will protect what we are trying to build.”
He paused rubbing his temples. “For some time now, I have become disillusioned with our government, and any other government in the world for that matter. They stopped caring about people and are only concerned with their own personal power. The elections are reality television popularity contests, and corruption has become a standard, not an exception. I thought there was no way out, this is simply how things are, but this technology changes everything.”
He got up from the chair and went to the window, looking out at the sky.
“Since there are no more territories one can claim as his own, I set my sights on space, because this has the potential to open a whole new frontier out there. I could tell you that this is all just an altruistic idea of mine, but it’s not only that. I want the power to control my own destiny, I want that sense of freedom and infinite possibilities that our forefathers felt. I want to create a society built on our own rules, the just rules. With a certain set of conditions: no politicians, minimal administration, and no lawyers.”
Jack raised his hand, “Okay, I understand where you’re going with this, but you realize that a lot of people will call you a dictator and that you will be hated by so many others… and most likely marked for assassination by the mighty and powerful.”
“So let them, every single person can opt-out, at any moment, so they may call me whatever they want. I’m not doing this to get people’s approval, I’m offering a choice of something better. Besides, nobody can really live forever, but as long as I live, I will do it my way. If you follow me in this, know that some of that danger will transfer to you, so what do you say, are you in or out?”
“Well, son… I’m in. I was getting a little bored to death with this place, waiting to breathe my last breath; this is a far better option,” Jack said with a crooked smile.
Pete and Tyron nodded their heads, and at the same time said, “Count me in.”
Only Al remained silent, his face showing a man in deep thought.
“What about you Al?”
“I’m okay with most of what you said, but there is one thing that really interests me. Does this offer come with a free dental plan, there is this one tooth that’s been killing me –”
That was as far as he got, before a pillow thrown by the Jack struck his face, while Tyron hit the back of his head.
“Well with that out of the way, I have something for you.”
Michael reached inside his pocket and removed four silver dollar coins.
“These are in fact made from medical nanites, all you need to do is put them on the palms of your hands, and they will be absorbed through your skin.”
The coins were Max’s idea, he wasn't really too keen for Michael to deplete his internal supply of nanites again by transferring them directly to others. The episode with Elizabeth showed that while it was possible to operate with diminished numbers of them, it was far from optimal. They planned in advance about offering them to the team. Max would control them through cell towers, but for their full use, Jack, Tyron, Pete, and Al would need to go through the CEI implantation procedure inside the AutoDoc.
Each of the men took one coin and put them flat on their palms. After a few seconds, the metal lost its sharp edges and started to melt into their hands.
“Damn Mike, this looks like magic!” Jack exclaimed, and like others stared at the disappearing nanites.
“Disturbing and fascinating.” Tyron’s deep baritone added.
“By this time tomorrow, you should already feel better, healthier, and younger. In time, they can even cure or regenerate lost limbs. Including your eye, Tyron,” Michael said.
He turned to Jack. “And make you vertical again. But to speed things up, and get you to top condition, we should get you to the ship’s Auto-Doc.”
Michael stayed with them for a few more hours, discussing what they would do in the future and getting their feedback on some finer points of his plan.
“Now, I need to make one more stop. You three get your stuff and get Jack away from this depressing place. Let’s meet at my cabin tomorrow, you all know the way.”
They said their goodbyes, and soon Michael was on his way to see the only living member of his direct family.
***
Houston, Texas
It has been almost three months since the last time he saw his father. They spoke on the phone from time to time, but by living in different cities, it was difficult to meet often in person. And when they talked, it was mostly about general things; it seemed to Michael they were really repeating the same conversation every time. In fact, when they did see each other, the two of them could sit in silence for hours, drinking beer, and feeling at ease with themselves.
What worried him was that in the last few conversations, his father has become very talkative, speaking about past events, good times they had. When Michael asked him if everything was okay, he answered that everything was fine. Still, that gut feeling of his was telling him something was off.
After another long drive, he finally came to his father’s house. It was in a nice neighborhood, but small and utilitarian, suitable for a single man. For some reason, his father never married after Michael’s mother died. There were a few women that Michael knew about, yet nothing permanent. The old man often joked that he lived for his job, and no woman could accept that in the long term.
He had a Ph.D. in physics, and was in charge of R&D section of one of the biggest physics labs in the states, with a well-known and respected name in scientific circles.
The first tangible proof that his gut was right was the neglected lawn in front of the house. On all his previous visits, the lawn was meticulous; now, the grass was overgrown and weeds were choking the flowerbeds.
When his father opened the front door, Michael did a double-take. As long as he could remember, the man standing in front of him was a bit overweight; nothing alarming, but the few extra pounds here and there. The man who opened the door was skinny, and his skin had that pale unhealthy pallor of someone sick.
“Hi Michael, I’m glad to see you, come on in,” his father said, with a resigned shrug of the shoulders.
“Dad, what’s wrong with you?” he replied following his father into the house.
“Let’s grab a couple of beers, and I’ll tell you.”
While his father was going to the refrigerator, Michael noticed his slowed down movements. He was not walking as he used to, always in a hurry as if a day did not have enough hours for him to do all he planned.
“Max, something is seriously wrong with him,” he sent to the AI.
“I know, I just hacked into his medical records. Do you want me to tell you, or would you rather hear it from him?” The AI replied.
It was a tempting offer, but he owed the man the dignity of telling him in his own words.
“Let him tell me, in any case, prepare the nanites.”
“I’m already ahead of you there, touch his arm when he gives you the beer.”
Michael tried to be as inconspicuous as he could while transferring the nanites. He was paying attention and saw a small silvery bead attach itself to his father's skin. After he took the beer, he sat across his father. They drank their beers in silence for a few minutes.
“So…” he didn’t really know how to begin.
“So… as you may have guessed, I’m sick.” His father took a long pull of his beer before continuing. “It’s a brain tumor, inoperable… so that’s that.”
The beer in his stomach threatened to return in the same way it went in. He knew the nanites could perform a miracle, but hearing this was deeply disturbing, the words no child ever wanted to hear.
“Treatments?”
“Wouldn’t do any good, any meaningful life prolongation percentages are laughable, and you know me, I’m all about percentages,” he said with a sour smile.
“Were you planning to tell me?”
“Yes, they give me six more months, and I wanted to spend them on my terms. The pointless therapies would eat that time until the unavoidable end. I was planning to visit you at the cabin, to spend some time with you before I checked myself in a hospice.”
His father lifted his bottle in imitation of a salute, “I was rehearsing what to tell you when I saw you, I guess you messed up my plans.” He laughed after that, not the joyful laugh, but one full of sadness.
“Michael, my biggest regret in this life was not spending enough time with you, I thought that there would always be more. When your mother died… I was lost and did not know how to take care of you. That is why I left you with your grandparents, so you could have a good family life. I missed… so much… and I’m so sorry Michael.”
“Max, talk to me!” Michael snapped through his implant, his throat trying to swallow a non-existing lump.
“It’s a brain tumor all right, but don’t worry, there is no immediate danger, and nanites are already stabilizing him. But he will need a long session inside the AutoDoc to remove it completely.”
Michael looked at his father, who was staring at the wall, lost in his memories.
“Dad, I want you to go to the cabin with me. There is something there you need to see.”
Robert Freeman looked at his son for a moment and then nodded. “I can do that, but in a few days. There are still some things here I need to take care of.”
“It is really important for you to get there as soon as possible,” Michael said, emphasizing each word.
They finished their beers, and then another. For a few hours, they talked about their lives, remembering people they both loved and lost.
It was the first time in their lives that they really opened up to one another.
As Michael was pulling out of the driveway, he could see his father standing on the porch, waving at him.
“Why didn’t you tell him anything?” Max asked.
“Because he will never believe it until he sees it with his own eyes; I figure it’s better to show him, than just telling him.”
“Yeah, he’s like that all right. You have plans for him, don’t you?” The AI asked.
“Yes, we will need scientists, and he talks their language.”
“As soon as we can get him into the AutoDoc the better, I didn't like seeing him this way, he looked… broken.”
“Looking your own mortality in the face will do that to you, but you are right, I don't think I can stop worrying until we get him healed,” Michael replied.
For the next few hours, Michael drove his car in silence, wanting to think about his future plans, but the worry for his father always on top of his mind. Max could sense how Michael's state of mind was, so he left him to his own thoughts.
Only time will tell if everything will turn out all right.
