Metamorphosis Page 2

  That didn’t sound right. “Wouldn’t that have given you a British accent? Halifax is somewhere near Leeds unless I miss my guess.”

  MirBacha sighed in mock exasperation. “You English,” he said with the air of a man educating a slow child. “Quite possibly the only people on Earth who don’t know anything about your former colonial days.” He indicated another turn and they set off again.

  He came to a heavy gate set into a nine-foot-high stone wall and gestured Liam inside. As MirBacha was closing the gate, Liam saw a young girl, perhaps ten years old, looking at him from the doorway of the house. “My sister,” MirBacha said, as she disappeared into the home. “She’s the only reason I’m helping you.” He came to stand beside Liam. “NATO soldiers came here two years ago, built a school and told us it would be safe for our children.” His face darkened. “Then they left.” He looked over at Liam, watching his response as he talked. “Political winds back home, they told us. Their whole contingent suddenly pulled out of Afghanistan in a matter of days.”

  She must be close to the same age as Thomas. Liam had no way of knowing where his son would have been sent after Kate died. He hoped Thomas would have been sent to his aunt on the Channel Islands but he had a sinking feeling that he had been placed with Kate’s brother because he was more convenient, and he lived in Britain – in a run-down council home. Kate’s death was the one piece of news that his captors had told him about.

  Kourash had told him personally and Liam felt certain that he had not done it to wound him. They had learned of her passing through an interpreter who served with the British. They had been trying to find out whether he was worth a ransom when they learned of the news. He had walked in alone and crouched in front of Liam. “Captain,” he paused for a moment, his face grave. “Your wife has died in an accident.”

  Liam suddenly felt he had lost his tie to reality. He had spent months in captivity, wondering what Kate might be doing, how she might be coping with a small child and a missing husband. She had been his anchor, the one surety that he did, in fact, have a life beyond his current confinement. He could feel his mind slipping away but it grasped for a handhold. “Thomas?” The sound startled him. He hadn’t spoken for a long time and he was mildly surprised to learn that he could still use his voice.

  Kourash nodded. “He was sent to relatives.” He stood. “My condolences, Captain. Like most Afghans, I am no stranger to personal loss. I wish it on no man.” He went out through the door and it was the last time Liam saw him. Two months later, he found himself walking the street a free man.

  MirBacha waved Liam inside, retrieving him from his past. “The weather’s about to change,” he said as they walked through the door. The interior was well furnished. Comfortable cushions surrounded a beautiful silk rug and Liam stepped out of his boots at the door, amused by the convenience of having no shoe-laces. They sat as the young girl brought out a tablecloth, spreading it across the rug between them before disappearing into the back.

  “Two weeks after the troops left,” he continued as the girl returned with a copper basin, “a gunman shot up the school. My sister took a bullet in the leg.” His gaze was distant, remembering, angry. Liam washed his hands in the basin and watched as the young girl’s approach brought her brother back to the present. He washed his hands and returned to his narrative.

  “If a British unit hadn’t been patrolling the border road, she would have lost her leg. Their medics were very busy that day.” He frowned again, choosing his next words. “We were grateful for the help; five young girls were helped that day…”

  Liam was aware of a light patter of rain that had begun to fall as his host spoke. He broke into the narrative. “But that help wouldn’t have been necessary if our NATO ally had remained?”

  “Exactly. You come here and extol the virtues of your political system but how often does it prevent you from finishing what you started? How many missions have you been pulled from? How often have you been promised new equipment only to be told that it wasn’t in the budget?” He shook his head. “You can’t drop democracy in our laps and expect it to be an overnight success. Especially with an example like that.”

  Liam, normally unemotional, occasionally found himself caught unawares and unprepared by strong feelings. His host’s story had crept in under his guard and he suddenly realized how shallow and selfish his own choices had been. He had been trying to prove himself by joining the regiment. It was considered the best-of-the-best and he felt that success in leading men of the SAS would help him to overcome his own self-doubts.

  How foolish would that sound to a young girl, lying in a dusty schoolyard with her life’s blood seeping into the dirt? How meaningless it would sound to her brother, the friendly young man who had welcomed him into his home.

  How contemptible it sounded in Liam’s own mind. So what reason did he have, now, for remaining in the military?

  The young girl returned, filling two glasses with tea before returning to the next room. Her brother followed, sensing his guest’s discomfort and giving him a moment to compose himself. He returned, carrying a heavy tray loaded with several dishes while his little sister carried a smaller tray of naan. Once the food was deposited in the middle of the tablecloth, MirBacha sat on the cushions. “Please, help yourself,” he said, waving at the choices.

  Liam wasted no time in loading a piece of naan from the various dishes in front of him. The food was delicious and Liam was not so certain that his hunger was inflating his opinion. He had been to several meetings with local officials and they invariably served food; hospitality was very important here. It was one of the high points of the job. I wonder why I’ve never seen an Afghan restaurant back home.

  “So what will you do now that you are free?” MirBacha had finished eating and was pouring two cups of tea.

  “I should be eligible for compassionate leave,” Liam mused, thinking seriously about the future for the first time in months. “I’ll find my son and spend some time with him.” He suddenly imagined Thomas lying on the ground with a bullet wound in his leg and he grimaced. If he’s with his uncle, he may well end up that way. His brother-in-law lived in a dangerous part of London.

  MirBacha handed him a cup of tea. “Compassionate leave?”

  Liam nodded. “I learned a month ago that my wife was killed in an accident. My son is with relatives.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that,” the young man said softly. “Surely the UN will send you home immediately?”

  “The UN?” Liam asked, lowering his cup un-tasted.

  “Well, NATO, essentially,” the young man conceded with a grin. “But they have been under UN command since our visitors began building on Mars.”

  “Visitors?” Liam asked. “What visitors are you talking about?”

  MirBacha’s eyes grew wide. “Truly? You know nothing about what has happened on Mars? Kourash and his men told you nothing of the outside world?”

  “Truly,” Liam responded. “I have eaten your food; I would not lie to you.”

  “Five months ago, the colony on Mars was wiped out by little green men – well nobody seems to know what color they are but the general consensus is that they aren’t friendly.”

  Liam laughed, sure that his host would join in, but he remained serious. He really seems to believe that. Perhaps it’s time for me to make that call. “Are you telling me that aliens attacked the Mars outpost?”

  The young man nodded with a pained expression. “I realize that’s a hard one to believe,” he admitted. “I didn’t believe it for quite some time myself but everyone kept talking about it. It’s the reason for the UN taking over here.” He set his tea down. “They’re organizing the response as well as our defenses here on Earth. When you talk to your fellow soldiers, you will see that I am not just telling you amusing stories.”

  Intended or not, the young man’s mention of Liam’s colleagues was a suitable opportunity for Liam to take his leave. “Your hospitality is matchless and I thank you
for the excellent food,” Liam began, “but I should get in contact with the nearest military unit. If I might use your phone?”

  His host stood and waited as Liam rose. “It might be more convenient for me to take you to the nearest unit.” He grinned.

  Liam knew he should be alarmed by the sudden change in plan but every instinct told him that the young man intended no mischief. “There is a unit here?”

  “In the old fort,” he waved a hand towards the courtyard. “My house was on the way and I doubted that your mess hall would be open at the moment.” He moved to the door. “Let’s get you home.”

  UN Route Control

  Spin Buldak, Afghanistan

  May 13, 2016

  “Welcome back, Captain Kennedy!” Major Williams came out from behind his desk to shake hands. He was a tall thin man with a shaved head. Though he wore the blue shoulder wrap of the UN, Liam could see from his other shoulder that he had come from the US portion of the old NATO contingent. “So how did you get away?”

  Liam shrugged. “They got tired of me I expect. I woke up this morning and they were all gone. A local man was kind enough to get me out of my chains and provide me with a meal – two hundred meters away from the gates of this base.” He smiled at how close he had been to friendly units, not only while enjoying his recent meal but also during the last two months of his confinement.

  “Well, we aren’t really sure what to do with you at the moment,” the major said, glancing nervously at the tablet on his desk. “Men with your qualifications are mostly being earmarked for training at the Mars analogue site on Hawaii, but it may depend on what your old unit has been doing.” MirBacha had been telling the truth, after all. The American sighed, then looked up at Liam. “Listen, maybe you should sit down for a moment.”

  Liam had an idea of what was in his dossier. “Sir, if it’s about my wife, I already learned about it from my captor.” He took a deep breath to calm his mind. Despite being confined alone with the knowledge for the last eight weeks, it still threatened to swamp him from time to time.

  “I see.” The major sat behind his desk with a look of relief and opened the file. “We do have a bit of good news to report,” he looked up. “Sergeant Rai is fully recovered and back with his unit as of last month.” The man smiled at the look of shock on Liam’s face. “He’ll be glad to see you, I bet! He’s currently in England with the rest of your unit. He gave quite a glowing account of your actions following the crash.”

  I would have thought his wounds were fatal. He was pleased to hear of Rai’s high opinion, but then he remembered the image of the young girl with the limp. If I continue to serve, it has to be for a better reason, he thought. It was ironic that the approval that would have felt so gratifying only hours ago, now only served as a reminder. Men like Rai placed their faith in him. Liam owed them competent leadership in return. The calculation had shifted fundamentally for him. It was no longer about gaining a pat on the back from society; it was about accepting the responsibilities of the life he had chosen. “Rai must have been rescued within minutes of my capture,” Liam mused, glad that the man had survived. He looked down, suddenly remembering. “This is his,” Liam said simply, pulling the heavy knife from his belt. “He’ll be glad to get it back.”

  “Now that’s a knife,” the major said in a bad parody of an Australian accent.

  “Sir?”

  “Nothing.” The major shook his head ruefully. “Just showing my age, I suppose.”

  Liam suddenly remembered a much more important question. “Does that say where my son is?”

  Williams turned to his tablet and navigated through Liam’s records with a few taps before turning it around. “He’s with a Mr. Corbin in London. Your brother-in-law?”

  Typical bureaucracy, thought Liam. Rather than send him to my sister on Guernsey where he could also be near Kate’s family, they send him to his unemployed uncle who lives in a run-down council home. Leo would be getting extra government income from having his nephew and he was likely spending most of it on vodka. Of all of Liam’s responsibilities this was the most urgent.

  And the most neglected.

  “Major, how quickly can I get transport home?”

  Central London

  England

  May 17, 2016

  Liam had been shocked at the changes in the city. London had always had a problem with crime but the police were now almost completely overwhelmed by unrest caused by the new economic realities. Mankind’s first contact with an alien species hadn’t gone very well. The visitors had destroyed the fledgling ISS habitat and set up production facilities on the planet’s surface. They were using the red planet to stage an invasion of Earth and the UN was now coordinating the construction of a fleet in orbit.

  A ruinously expensive fleet.

  All the nations of the world were contributing to the project. The amount assessed to each nation was based on the relative strength of its economy which spread the pain evenly around the world, or so the theory went. Nations that had previously spent huge amounts on their militaries were able to mothball fleets of equipment and cancel procurement plans in an attempt to scrape together part of their contribution to the UN-managed project.

  Nations that spent huge sums to maintain public services such as socialized health care and living assistance – nations like Britain – also scaled back their expenditures, but with much uglier results. It was hard to argue against a cancelled aircraft carrier, but a parent who could no longer obtain medical care for a sick child made for a very angry citizen.

  For decades, politicians had channeled more and more money into the nation’s social programs in an attempt to pacify the growing population of urban poor. It was the modern version of Rome’s bread and circuses, the oldest of political expediencies in the newest ways. Fed and housed, the mob could sit at home where the circus was brought to their television screens every day – scandals, comedies and wars. All they had to do in return was give up their own voice.

  Now that the bargain was breaking down, the voices were growing louder.

  Protest marches often materialized out of thin air. No one was certain whether they were organized or spontaneous, but they always headed for wealthy areas of town and they almost always ended in an orgy of violent destruction.

  Tent cities were springing up all over the country as social-living assistance was reduced with every new sitting of parliament. As more people found themselves with nothing to lose, the crime rate skyrocketed. A person with a starving family will think nothing of smashing a shop window to grab food. People were killed for little more than the warm clothing on their backs.

  The economy began to shift as more consumers found themselves better served by the growing black market. The prices might be slightly higher but there was no 20% Value-Added Tax and thriving underground markets appeared to serve the quickly-growing demand. The service sector, representing three quarters of the nation’s GDP, was in a tailspin.

  Britain, once the world’s pre-eminent superpower, was on the verge of collapse.

  The police, backed up by the military, had shut many of the markets down but it was a losing battle. They always sprang back up in a matter of days. Despite their haphazard layouts, they were closely controlled by a small handful of criminal syndicates who had no compunctions about making an example out of brash policemen who didn’t have the sense to look the other way.

  In every major city, entire zones were cordoned off by the military in an attempt to prevent the cancerous spread of the unregulated, untaxed economy. They quickly became lawless sectors where no outsider would dare to venture. The largest and most dangerous of all these sectors was known as Echo Lima One, or more simply, Sector One, encompassing half of East London.

  And that was where Thomas was living.

  Though social assistance was crumbling, the government checks for Tommy’s care were still being sent to his uncle. The politicians knew the votes of the mob were a lost cause, but they didn’t dar
e lose the support of the military. Dependants of service personnel were still eligible for full social assistance. A soldier risked his life for his nation, but would he stand against his own countrymen to protect the government? It was a difficult question at the best of times, but if his family were suffering, the answer would almost certainly be ‘no’.

  At the very least, the steady income would keep Leo from turning the boy out to fend for himself. If he was still alive.

  “Lord love you, sir,” the Scottish staff sergeant at the motor pool exclaimed. “If yer gaun t’ breenge up t’ Echo Limey, take the lads along.” He shook his head in amazement at the young officer’s foolishness. “An’ not in some paukit Land Rover neither. You come back with yer gemmies and I’ll have something better ready for you. I better gee it mysel – there’ll be fistycuffs. You mark m’ words.”

  “Er, yes.” Liam stood across from the counter from the huge man, looking at the almost feral glint in his eyes. Whatever the cause, Simpson seemed eager to come along, and he was right about the Land Rover, if Liam understood him correctly. It would only advertise the presence of an easy target to the more adventurous elements of Sector One. If he went, it would have to be with overwhelming force. Something that nobody would dare interfere with.

  “Well, then…” At the best of times, he found Simpson incomprehensible but he was surprised to realize that he had the basic gist of his tirade this time. Is he going easy on me because he knows why I’m going into Sector One? “Thank you, Staff Sergeant. I’ll be back in a couple of hours, then.”

  “Aye.” The man nodded his approval. “Give the little schemers an hour or two of dark and they’ll be into the vino-collapso.” He rubbed his hands together. “Then we turn the bogies loose!”

  Liam headed for the barracks. Most of his men were single and preferred to live on the cheap. He frowned as he walked, surprised at his new attitude. A few short days ago, he would never have considered his present course of action. The man he had been last week would never have had the nerve to walk into the barracks and ask his men to help him with anything. He would have been too afraid that they might refuse. Too afraid that it would erode his standing with them.