Learning the Hard Way 1

by H. P. Caledon

  “I’m sorry, Lewis, but I think I did something wrong.” Mike looked up and found Lewis leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He looked patient.

  “You wanna tell me about it? It stays between us. Just two old army buddies.”

  Mike smiled, happy to hear these exact words from Lewis and with so much conviction behind. But those words were also what Mike needed to open up and give Lewis a detailed description of the many months of hell he’d just escaped from. When Mike got to the part about his and Keelan’s friendship, the suspected betrayal, and the price for Keelan’s absence, Mike cried. Until then he hadn’t let the feelings flow freely and relieve him. He’d only shed a few tears or fought them.

  Right then Mike felt weak because he’d lost his battle against the tears, which he’d locked up in a dark pit of oblivion—in the same pit where Mike thought humanity belonged when living behind bars. He certainly understood why Delta Zeich was nicknamed the Pit.

  But this was different. There he sat and shared his anguish with a fellow soldier, and he was reminded of his six years at Spec Edit twelve with the others from his squad. They’d laughed together, cried together, and fought together.

  They’d both seen their share of misery. It hadn’t been war or combat, but when it came to what life had to dish out of gruesome experiences, this experience, in particular, had plenty in common with war. Lewis understood him, Mike was sure of it. It was evident in his eyes.

  Lewis reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you. Thank you for sharing this with me. But now I understand what the physician meant when he said that you let something happen. The part about you missing something now? Your loyalty?”

  “Keelan’s a good man, and he’s not even on the right side of the law, Lewis.”

  “And what does that tell you?”

  Mike looked away, thinking. “That theory is easier than praxis?” Mike whispered.

  Lewis laughed and nodded. “I’m pretty sure you and I have always known that. Since we’re both pilots, we know that everything looks easy during the theoretical part of the education, but it’s much harder when—”

  “When we’re in the simulator?” Mike grinned.

  Lewis nodded, smiling. “Yeah.”

  Silence dominated, but it was neither forced nor awkward.

  “Do you need more time? Before we talk about... we really need your help, Mike. Some knowledge you came by as a mercenary.”

  “Anything you want, Lewis.”

  “I know you’re a good soldier—”

  “Was.”

  “Yeah. But I still think you have what makes a good soldier.”

  “No, ‘cause then—”

  “Mike, you’re gonna listen to what I have to say now!” Lewis said and sat up straight.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’ve been through something terrible, but you know you got to learn to suck it up and keep moving. I’ve seen you get past gruesome experiences in the past. I’ve seen a lot of soldiers on this ship get past some terrible shit, and that’s why I want to see you in training tomorrow with whoever is left from your squad.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’ll get some time. In the meantime, I’d like you to consider what we’re asking,” Lewis said, calmly. Mike nodded and sighed deeply. “Cecil Hallett, do you remember him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you know about his careers?”

  “S? As in plural?” Mike asked. Lewis nodded, and something about the way he asked made Mike nervous. “I spoke quite a lot with Cecil after I was taken on. He talked about being from Kanakoon and had worked with bounty hunters before he teamed up with Brad Dorsey. He was the one who recruited Cecil in the first place.”

  “What’s Brad Dorsey’s story?”

  “He was a prison guard at Irgang for about twenty-five years. He said the job ate him up from the inside and out. Seeing the inmates go crazy in the chaotic halls. The maze destroyed people. Everybody knew there was a way out and everybody looked for it. But no one ever made it. They ran around in the identical corridors again and again and again, counting stones in the walls or floor or memorizing colors and marking the corners. They lose their mind in there.”

  Mike looked at his hands and thought about the pictures he’d seen from inside Irgang. He, himself, had only seen it from atop where one only got a vague idea of just how vast the area was. From above all that was visible were the many buildings side by side, connected here and there. It was inside all the buildings that the maze was, and it filled out all the buildings. After having run the corridors of Delta Zeich, he thought about what it must be like to be lost in the maze of Irgang. Delta Zeich had been a labyrinth, but nothing compared to the place which held more than six times the lengths of corridors.

  “Mike, you’re shutting off again.” Lewis placed a hand on Mike’s arm.

  Mike looked up and smiled. “Brad was a good man. He fell on one of the last missions we were on. Cecil and he ran into an ambush.”

  “We know that Brad is dead, and we’ve heard of the ambush. Theoretically at least. No facts ever reached the table.”

  Mike looked confused. “But, Cecil said—”

  “Here.” Lewis handed Mike a disk. “Look this through and call me when you’re ready. If I’m on watch, call Harrison.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mike took the disk. He was curious, but something about the whole conversation scared him. Lewis once again put his hand on Mike’s shoulder and waited. Mike nodded. They got up, and Mike put the disk on the desk, but he looked up when Lewis didn’t leave as he expected.

  “The physician said that if you needed to talk you could go to him. But I’ll advise against it, Mike. I’ll advise you to go to your squad.”

  “But, the physician knows what I’ve been through. He understands—”

  “No, Mike. The physician doesn’t really understand. He knows how you feel, how others feel. But he’s not capable of understanding it anymore, only the consequences of what you’ve been through. It’s like knowing the sum to a very difficult piece of math, but not how to calculate it.”

  Mike didn’t really think that that was the case but nodded. Lewis had always earned the respect of his men, so his advice meant the worlds to Mike. He needed to find himself as the physician had said—that Mike had to learn to be independent of him.

  Mike felt the need to resist when Lewis suddenly embraced him, but Lewis held on firmly.

  “You’re safe now, Mike. Relax and take the necessary time to find yourself again. We’ll take things one at a time. Like that time you, Jackson, and Mel were trapped on Orlani. One thing at the time. One day at a time.”

  Mike felt tears fight their way forward with the mentioning of Orlani. Back then it had been a hell he thought he’d never escape and never get over. Now Lewis was reminding him of it. Probably to remind him that he’d been strong enough to get over it. That he was indeed strong even though he, for a long time, had felt weak and useless. Back then his squad, Lewis, and Harrison had helped him.

  Mike finally returned the embrace and cried again. Lewis waited patiently until Mike drew back from him to wipe his eyes.

  “Thanks, Lewis.”

  “You’re welcome. You know where you can find Harrison and me. We’re both here for you.”

  Mike had sat alone by his desk and stared emptily ahead for hours after Lewis had left. Had Lewis brought up Orlani on purpose?

  Mike stroked his lower arm absentmindedly, and it wasn’t until then he realized that it was the scar from his captivity in Orlani’s slum he was touching.

  Back then he’d been certain that he was going to die there. Jackson and Mel had been strung up next to him, and back then Mel was the one who’d been the luckiest. Had the idiot handling the knife known what he was doing, Mel would have been dead. Jackson had been lucky in a different way as he’d avoided the knife entirely, but the others had thrown a lot of salt in his open wounds. The cut to Mike’s arm had been so deep that
two tendons had been severed completely while another had frayed. It had taken a long time for the doctors to find the severed tendons somewhere around the shoulder and then pull them all the way back down to make his index and middle finger work again. Recuperation had been lengthy because the tendons had been shortened drastically in the many days he’d been tied to the ladder waiting for death. Several inches were now prosthetic tendon. In the end, two teenage girls had saved them. They hadn’t been more than fourteen at the time. When Mike and the others finally got to a VID to call for assistance they also made sure the girls were rewarded for their heroism.

  Mel, Jackson, and Mike had spent many weeks processing their problems together, and the memories of their shared effort made Mike smile. But the smile disappeared again as he remembered that this time he was all alone. The physician hadn’t been at the bottom of the food chain like Mike had. Keelan had been Mike’s protector, but they’d both been a victim of Rainer’s conspiracies.

  Once again Mike’s guilty conscience pushed forward and he shoved it back by focusing on the disk Lewis had given him. It contained the profiles on the four mercenaries Mike had worked with. Brad’s death was described so detailed with eye-witness accounts and evidence that Mike felt sick.

  Wow, my judgment has been fucked up for a very long time. I trusted Cecil! And he killed Brad Dorsey! But why? If I don’t know, then how can I help Lewis?

  Mike spent another couple of hours thoroughly familiarizing himself with the contents of the file before he went to bed. He needed the rest before he could make any decisions about his future. The conversation he’d had with Lewis had made him think, and Mike hoped that some of it would fall into place during sleep.

  Mike entered the mess hall on level two and scanned the crowd for a familiar face. Somewhere he thought he recognized a loud laughter, so he got in line, picked up his breakfast, and walked in the direction he’d heard the laughter.

  “What the hell? Matthews?” someone asked, and Mike turned. A man had gotten up from a table and stared at him. It took Mike a minute to place him.

  “Sergeant Jones?”

  “We heard rumors that you were back. Come, sit down.” Jones pointed to an empty seat opposite himself.

  Mike looked down the table. He didn’t know them enough to know their names, but the ones who looked up seemed friendly. Mike nodded and tried to smile, but in his mind, he scolded himself for these new defense mechanisms.

  “Lewis said something about you coming down to train today. We’re on third shift on this level if you’re interested,” Jones said.

  “I was ordered to train with my old squad. At least the ones left.”

  Jones nodded. “I’ll kick your ass in tasarik later, then.”

  Mike laughed at the memories of their many hours in the common room trying to gather the tower with the highest value. Mike had already lost about a month’s pay over six years to the guy.

  “We could do that. I think it’s my turn to start.”

  “Yeah, losers draw first,” Jones said with a lopsided smile. Mike didn’t answer, he began to eat, reminding himself to not put an arm around the tray or huddle the plate. Instead, he tried to sit up straight and look like he enjoyed his food and not like someone keeping an eye on everything and everyone as if he expected them to be a threat.

  He didn’t catch half of what they were saying, but he tried to keep up and be a part of the fellowship he’d once seen as such a big part of his life. But Lewis’ visit the day before engaged the majority of his focus. Especially the knowledge he was asked to share and the information he’d been given.

  Harrison stopped at their table. “Mike, I’d forgotten you don’t have a flexor-pad anymore.”

  “So the lieutenant got some exercise?” Jones asked.

  “Very amusing, Sergeant,” Harrison said and chuckled. The soldiers around them laughed as Harrison nodded to himself. “Watch out. You have third shift training today, and I just happen to be off shift. Maybe I’ll stop by and make you break a sweat... without having to strain myself enough to break a sweat myself.”

  “I’ll keep the ring free! I wanna see that!” a soldier said. Harrison looked at Jones who sighed audibly.

  “Me and my big mouth. Is that an order, Lieutenant?”

  “No.” Harrison grinned. “But maybe you should take me up on it. Might teach you to harness your huge confidence so it doesn’t spill over?”

  Mike hoped he could watch the match. The sergeant would never know what hit him.

  “Lewis and Heckman are ready whenever you are.”

  The warm feeling from before vanished, but Harrison smiled encouragingly.

  Mike got up. “Uhm. Now.”

  “You can finish your meal first,” Harrison said. Mike looked at his tray. The food didn’t seem as appetizing as it had.

  “That’s okay, sir.” But his voice failed him half way through. He noticed Jones’ worried look. They all seemed worried, and it irritated him. He really wanted to put prison behind him so he could move on. But first, he had to help Lewis.

  Harrison didn’t say a word as they made their way to level one. It wasn’t until they almost reached Heckman’s office that Harrison put a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, Mike. You know Lewis and I will help you, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Harrison squeezed his shoulder gently, and they entered the office.

  Heckman sat at the end of the table with two folders in front of him and the VID on standby. Lewis sat by the table, looking concerned. Mike sat across from him and gave hime a strained smile. Lewis nodded as if saying he understood.

  “Sergeant, how are you today?”

  “I’m fine, Admiral, thank you.”

  Heckman nodded curtly and motioned toward the coffee. Mike poured a cup and waited for their initiative.

  “I understand that you’ve been brought up to speed about Cecil Hallett and that you’ve been familiarized with why your knowledge is so important to us,” Heckman said.

  “Yes, sir, I was given some information,” Mike said.

  “If you tell us what you and your crew knew of Hallett’s more sinister operations, we will ask further questions afterward. Please ignore the information you received in the file since we also need to know how much of that is new to you.”

  “All of it, sir. Everything. Except for his career with us and as a member of a team of bounty hunters before that, I didn’t know anything about what has been going on. I’m shocked by the information, since Hallett is a man I’ve trusted with my life on many of occasions. But I’ll try to give an objective account of how much he’s managed to hide from us.” Mike thought back to an episode mentioned in the files. “I can only account for what I remember. But I’ll try to do so as detailed as possible with both my thoughts and contemplations regarding the different episodes from the files. One of these episodes happened two years ago on Motáll. We were there tracking a slave collector who wasn’t too picky about who he collected to be trained... ”

  Chapter Nine

  Motáll 24/03 2610: almost two years earlier

  We all sat and waited for the usual bump in the ship as it touched down. For some reason, my nervousness for a job never set in before I felt that bump. Before that, we weren’t really in the line of fire yet. Often I thought back to my days as a soldier where we could sometimes be attacked when we landed. It’s never fun to step out onto the ramp where your friends are already lying there, bleeding. Fortunately, that was rare—especially as a mercenary. We were the ones who weren’t supposed to be seen.

  The whole day had been weird. Cecil had been a true pain in the ass. No matter what, he ripped peoples head off. When I dropped my towel and thus delayed him an additional four seconds, he hurled me a mouthful of curses. Luckily Brad stepped in. I think he was the only one Cecil didn’t manage to tear a new asshole that morning, but by then I was more than happy to tear Cecil one. Just because he had a bad day he didn’t have to take it out on me.
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  He was strapped in across from me as we were waiting to land, and his leg was jack-hammering. I’d never seen him like that before a landing. He’d been acting strange the last couple of days in general.

  Once we landed, Brad jumped from his seat and ordered us all downstairs. I understood his eagerness as our target was known to have eyes in the back of his head. Research had revealed that this guy was used to noticing all the little details we usually hid behind.

  “All right, listen up.” Brad positioned himself in front of the ramp so all could see him. “Cecil and Bill, you’re a team. You take the north side. Mike, you come with me. Jack, you’re our eyes from here. Make sure those useless local uniforms are kept at bay this time. We don’t want them clinging to our asses again.”

  Jack was as always calm. It had nothing to do with experience with the threats a mercenary lived with. It was probably more the lack thereof. But he was a skilled hacker, which was the reason he was always the one on watch duty.

  Brad began his usual outlining of details of the target and the parameters we had to work under, so he knew for a certainty that everybody was in the know.

  “Our target this time is a slave collector named Pierre. Three months ago, two children disappeared from Sicilon. One was found again, and the girl has identified Pierre as the man who kidnapped both her and the boy who is still missing. Pierre has a past as a guard—”

  “We read his file, already, Brad, how about we get moving? This isn’t our virgin run!” Cecil snapped and scratched his throat.

  I’d never seen him sweat so profusely. But I couldn’t stop feeling amused by how often and easily Cecil could cause that annoyed look on Brad’s face.