by J E Loddon
“Hung sent me to get you,” he informed us.
We followed him through the ship, into a section that none of us had been to before towards the lower reaches of the ship. It took nearly ten minutes to get there, and we were all getting weary again just from the effort of walking. Eventually, he led us to a door, and pressed a buzzer. The door released, and he ushered us in. We entered what looked like a waiting room, and he told us to sit down. It looked similar to the one that I’d waited in at the Administrator’s office, except much bigger. He then handed out sacks to us, and excused himself. The sacks had food and drink in. We all looked at each other, puzzled.
“Eat now,” Casper advised, “ask questions later.” So we sat and ate. We were there for about half an hour before another door opened. It was Hung, you beckoned us into the room behind him. We all padded tiredly along behind him, and into a stark, bright looking meeting room. It looked much more modern than most of the rest of the ship. The table was white, rather than grey. It had real lighting inside, instead of just lighting strips. There were two smartly dressed people at the head of the table, a man and a woman. They welcomed us in, motioning for us to sit down. We looked at Hung questioningly, and he just nodded towards the seats. We got settled, then looked blankly at the men.
“Welcome home,” the woman said. “I’m Intelligence Officer Martins. This is my colleague, Officer Dannels.” He nodded at us and we nodded back.
“Is this about the sticks hidden under my bed?” Casper asked, straight-faced. “Cos I swear, I don’t know anything about them.” He tried desperately to keep his face from spreading into a grin, and as a result, I found it hard to stop from smiling too. Liberty had no such issues, though, and she gave him a stern glare. The officer looked unsure how to respond at first, then decided just to ignore it.
“We hear you’ve had a tough couple of days,” she pressed on. “Your instructor has told us what happened, and we’ve spoken to the gentleman you rescued now too.”
“Cal,” Liberty said. “How is he?”
“He’ll be OK,” the woman said, with a brief smile. “He’s in surgery now, but it should proceed with no problems. We all looked at each other, relieved. “As I’m sure you are all aware, er… Cal? Well, he was on a mission of some importance, and secrecy.” We nodded. “The Division thanks you for your bravery in rescuing this man, and for ensuring his mission was completed successfully,” she told us.
“The news he brings is troubling, certainly, and I’m sure you understand, there is a great need to keep this information confidential from the other recruits on board the ship?”
“Absolutely,” Liberty replied. “You can count on us, we fully understand the situation.”
“Good,” the woman said, looking relieved. “OK. Well. I’m going to leave you with Officer Dannels now.” She excused herself, and left. Officer Dannels waited for her to leave, then smiled.
“Amazing job guys,” he said. “You’ve been through Hell, I know it, and I don’t want to keep you from getting some rest. I do need to just get a bit of info from you first, though, so we can get moving.” He went on to ask us numerous questions. Some we knew the answers to, some not so much. As the details of exactly what we had done became clear to him, he began to look increasingly impressed.
“This was really just your second mission?” he asked in disbelief. “That’s incredible. I can remember my second mission like it was yesterday. We had to search the wreckage of a fighter ship for a Captain’s lucky handgun. Never found it. What a waste of time that was,” he went on. “Well, the news you bring seems grim, that’s for sure, but you, a small team, managed to survive and even thrive, and that brings me a lot of hope for this year’s batch of recruits,” he continued. “Hung tells me that you’re his most experienced squad now. Impressive. We’re gonna have to work fast to get the rest of the squads up to speed, now we not what we’re facing,” he said.
“All they’re really lacking is confidence,” Hung interjected. “They definitely have the ability to be an elite team. They just don’t know it yet.”
“Well, I bet that has changed a bit over the last couple of days, though, right?” he asked.
“Yes, definitely,” Liberty said. “When a new squad gets put together, it’s difficult. You don’t know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. You have to build up a sense of trust, and iron out any personality clashes. Once you all realise that you are all working towards the same goals, it gets a lot easier,” she said.
“You’re a volunteer, aren’t you?” he asked her. “That’s what your instructor tells me.”
“That’s right,” she said.
“I was drafted in the first year they had forced conscription on my planet,” he said. “We didn’t know what was going on. We’d heard the stories about this alien race that was threatening our species. We’d been told about it many times, of course, but it was treated more like a legend. Like a fantastical galactic battle happening millions of miles away. It didn’t seem real.” He looked off into the distance for a few moments. “I never would have volunteered then,” he admitted. “But, knowing what I do now, I would do in a heartbeat. We have a responsibility to our race to protect it. The rest of you were forced in?” he asked us. We all nodded hesitantly. “I’m sorry,” he said. It was the first time anyone in power in the Division had shown any kind of remorse for what had happened to us. He looked like he meant it too. “It’s unfortunate that it has to be like that, but it is a necessary evil. You’re, er…” he looked down at a sheet on the desk. “What’s your squad’s name?” he asked.
“Oh, we don’t have a sq-” Liberty began.
“Liberty’s Dream,” I blurted out. The rest of the squad stared at me. “That’s the name of our squad,” I said, “Liberty’s Dream.” Liberty continued looking at me, furrowing her brow.
“Liberty’s Dream?” the man asked, raising his eyebrows. “Hmm. Poetic. Bold. We usually get a lot of ‘Super Mega Destruction Force’,” he said. “I like that name, it’s elegant.” He tapped something down on the sheet in front of him. “You’re the squad leader, aren’t you,” he asked Liberty. She nodded. “And your name’s…”
“It’s, uh, Liberty,” she said, blushing a bit in embarrassment. The man raised his eyebrows again, a smile creeping across his lips.
“She didn’t pick the name,” I said quickly. “I did. Just now. She didn’t know anything about it.” I turned to Liberty. “Sorry,” I said quietly. She looked at me out of the corner of her eye, then turned her attention back to the man.
“They’ve struggled for a little while to come up with a name that suits them,” Hung explained. He was tapping into a device in his hand. “You’ll be pleased to know, Milo, that name hasn’t been taken, so I can make it official. If that’s all right with everyone else?” he asked, looking around at the rest of the team. Everyone nodded, except Liberty, who still looked embarrassed. She looked around at us, almost like she was hoping someone would protest.
“Are you sure guys?” she asked. Everyone nodded.
“I think it’s perfect,” Tasia said.
“Is it OK with you?” Hung asked Liberty. She paused for a few more moments.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” she said. “It’s good,” she continued, looking back at me, bemused. Hung tapped the information into his device, then set it down. The man then took the rest of our names, and continued recording information down onto his sheet.
“Scouts, right?” he asked us. We nodded. He continued face down for another minute or so. “OK,” he said finally. “Well, I’m pleased to inform you, I’ve promoted you all to Level Two Scouts.” We all gasped. “It doesn’t actually mean all that much,” he followed up apologetically. “It’s not like I can give you a pay-rise or anything. It does mean you can boss the other Scouts around though!” he said with a laugh. “If the situation warrants it, of course,” he said hurriedly, glancing across at Hung.
“I’m confident they can be trusted to use the power resp
onsibly,” Hung assured him, sounding almost sarcastic.
“Well, after all you’ve been through, I wish I could do more,” the man said. “However, you should all go off now. Get some rest. Eat, recover. We’re gonna need you all back in perfect shape when you go back.”
“Go back?” Liberty asked, puzzled. “Go back where?” The man mirrored her puzzled look.
“To the planet,” he said. He looked at Hung, who looked down at the desk. “Oh,” the man said, then turned back to face the rest of us.
“Well, you’re going back,” he told us. “We all are.”
Thank you for reading Galactic Division - Book Two: Initiation. If you enjoyed reading this book, please consider leaving a review for it on Amazon so that others can discover it.
Milo, Liberty and the rest of the squad will return in Galactic Division - Book Three: Occupation in June 2017.
The following is an excerpt from Thrall State - Book One: Restitution, coming to Amazon Kindle in May 2017.
Keep an eye on www.jeloddon.com for some deleted scenes from this book, and information on other releases. You can also follow me on www.twitter.com/mrjeloddon for more details and updates.
I didn’t have a firearm with me. I hadn’t carried a weapon for about three years, since the time I’d gotten robbed with my own gun. It wasn’t the fact that I’d been robbed that had put me off carrying; muggings were par for the course on these streets. The gun, though, had my prints all over it, and I’d expected to have someone knocking down my door for weeks afterwards.
I considered running, but whoever it was, they knew where I lived now. Everything I owned was inside, and I wasn’t going to get very far without my identification, money stash, and what little else I had of value. I figured that if someone was going to kill me, I wasn’t going to be able to talk them out of it anyway, so I coolly waltzed into the flat.
As I walked through the hallway into the living area, I saw no sign of movement, and heard no noise. That was good. I assumed that whoever had broken in had already left. None of the floorboards had been pulled up, so it didn’t look like they’d found my valuables. I looked back at the broken lock on the front door. Getting a replacement would mean venturing out into the streets, with no guarantee that a suitable shop would even be open anywhere at that time of night. I considered contacting the leaseholder, but I really didn’t want to draw any attention to myself.
I carried my shopping bag into the kitchen, and stopped dead in my tracks. Two men were standing in the middle of my kitchen. Searching through my cupboards. I looked at them, wide-eyed. One of them became aware of me, and put down an empty pot, closing a cupboard door. If he was shocked to see me, he didn’t show it. I tried to calm myself, and appear as unflustered as I feasibly could.
“You have a kettle,” he said to me, gesturing to the kitchen counter, “but no tea or coffee.”
“You have expensive tastes,” I said, trying to get a read on the situation. “I’ve got some milk, if you want that,” I said, shaking the shopping bag in my hand. He smiled at me, but it was more sinister than pleasant. The other man paid me no mind, continuing to look in the cupboards. They were well dressed. They were wearing dark outfits, which looked almost like business suits, though more casual.
“No beer either,” the second guy said, finally giving up his search. He sounded a lot more gruff than the first guy, who spoke in a soft, clear voice.
“I don’t drink,” I told him irritably, “Don’t know when I’m gonna need to have a clear head.” We eyed each other. He was tall and wiry, in stark contrast to the shorter, squatter dude who was doing most of the talking. I was starting to feel nervous again, and I wanted them to cut to the chase. My father, though, had taught me not to let people see me sweat. He’d stuck to that philosophy, too. All the way up to his final moments. “I don’t have any silverware,” I informed them dryly. “My Rolex is at the jewellers, getting a new battery.” The squat guy chuckled.
“If we were robbing the place,” he said, “we wouldn’t have chosen this place.” He looked around the kitchen with distaste. I followed his gaze. The walls had damp. The units were all scratched to Hell. I lived in a dump.
“So why did you choose this place?” I asked, my patience all but gone.
“You heard of a man called Mister Price?” he asked me. I felt my heart skip a beat.
“Yeah,” I said carefully. “It sounds familiar.”
“Well, Mister Price paid your father to do a job for him,” he informed me. “But the job, it never got done.” My heart ached. Thinking about my father, and all the things he hadn’t gotten to finish doing. I felt a brief sting behind my eyes.
“I think he had a pretty good excuse,” I said, willing my voice not to crack.
“Whatever the reason,” he told me, “we’re here to collect on the debt.” I looked at him, bemused. Could these people have really managed to track me down here, but not know that my father was no longer around?
“That might be tricky.” I said. A grim smile formed on the man’s lips.
“We’re aware of that,” he said. “We understand, though, that you were his sole heir?” This was becoming an interesting conversation. They sounded like con men. They were certainly dressed for the part. The fact that they had turned up here, though, and knew about my father, and Price, was proof enough to me that they weren’t just charlatans trying to shake me down.
“I don’t know how much your Mister Price paid my Dad,” I said, “but I’m pretty sure what I have left wouldn’t even remotely cover it.”
“We’re not here for the money,” he said patiently. “We’re here to ask you to work off the debt.” I stifled a snort of amusement. This was getting ridiculous.
“I was under the impression,” I said, narrowing my eyes, “that Price had also tragically passed?”
“You are correct,” the guy said. “However, much like your father, Mister Price passed his belongings on. Assets. Debts. Creditors. Your father’s debt to Mister Price has become your debt to our employer.” I shook my head in disbelief.
“You want me to do a job?” I asked him. He nodded. “You know I’m retired, right?” He shrugged.
“It certainly looks like it,” he agreed, looking me up and down. “But we’re gonna have to ask you to do one more job.” I frowned, and studied their faces. They both looked very relaxed, and completely serious. The wiry guy actually looked bored, truth be told. I had no intention of going out to work again. They had tracked me down, though. No small feat. They were obviously serious.
“Why does your ‘employer’ even want me?” I asked, genuinely curious. “I’ve been retired for four years. I wasn’t even that good when I was working. There are plenty of better mercenaries out there,” I asserted.
“Yeah, well we tried the best,” the wiry guy butted in. “Now, we’re trying something a little different.” He took a step towards me as he spoke. The other guy put an arm up as a barrier between the two of us. The wiry guy was starting to look antsy. The squat guy still looked perfectly relaxed. If he was annoyed at the other guy for speaking out of turn, he didn’t show it.
“What’s the job?” I asked, for reasons I couldn’t fathom. I should have just refused, and ended it there. I wanted to know, though. I didn’t know how they would react if and when I turned them down, so I wanted as much information as I could get out of them first.
“We need you to find someone,” the squat guy said.
“Missing person?” I asked him.
“Not exactly,” he replied. “He’s a coder. We can give you his name, and a logo that’s associated with him, though we don’t know in what way.”
“A logo?” I questioned. “You mean like a corporate logo?”
“We don’t know what it is,” he admitted.
“Missing persons was never really my thing,” I pointed out.
“He’s not a missing person,” he reiterated, his patience fully intact.
“Have you tried searching the logo
on the net?” I asked him. It seemed like a stupid question, but the whole situation was surreal.
“That isn’t an option,” he told me.
“Isn’t an option?” I echoed. “What do you mean, isn’t an option? If you want this guy found, the first thing we need to do is look him up online?”
“You’re to stay off of the net,” he insisted. “You’ll do it the old-fashioned way. On the streets. We want him, not his IP address.” I shook my head again. The whole thing was crazy, and I was starting to feel very uneasy about it. My curiosity was starting to recede, and dread fear was replacing it.
“I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong guy,” I said, taking a step away.
“No, we definitely have the right guy,” the wiry guy argued. “You’re the man we need for the job, Rian.”
I felt the blood drain from my face, and became a little light-headed. I shouldn’t have been surprised that they knew my name. They’d broken in to my apartment, and had been talking about my father, and Mister Price. It was obvious that they knew who I was. Somehow, though, hearing the man say my name, my real name, made the whole thing seem so much more real and threatening.