September 2070. Bluemont, VA. United Nations of America.
The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Liam’s childhood bedroom, casting a gentle light across the room. The sun’s rays reflected off old trophies and mementos from his youth lined neatly on shelves, juxtaposed against newer military paraphernalia. It was an eclectic historical exhibit, much like the man they represented.
Liam lay on the bed, lost in a restless slumber as the older he got, the less comfortable beds seemed—the aches and pains caused by the previous battle revealing their spiteful presence. He rolled over, mumbling orders to dream soldiers and calling for reinforcement against nightmare enemies.
His phone vibrated on the nightstand, the metal rattle against plastic causing him to bolt awake and reach for a weapon he belatedly realized was across the room. Liam was momentarily confused, still lost in the visions of fantasy battlefields.
Liam spotted the source of his disturbance—the unscripted alarm. He picked up his phone and squinted at the screen, age starting to rob him of his near sight. Recognizing the name “Amal” on the caller ID, he groggily pressed the accept button and answered. No matter the time or circumstance, Amal was not just his boss but also an old friend who’d been through the trenches, metaphorically and literally, with Liam. The least he could was take his calls.
“Liam,” Amal’s deep voice rumbled through the phone. “Wanted to check-in. How’s your mom? How are you holding up.”
The contractor exhaled deeply, rubbing his temples as if to ease away the pain of his new reality. “It’s cancer, Amal. The treatments…they’re expensive. My parents can’t afford it.”
A few seconds of silence followed, and Liam could almost picture Amal’s thoughtful frown. He knew it wasn’t fair to spring this on his boss and mentor, but he didn’t know who else to talk to. He couldn’t speak to his sister, and most of his friends were busy living their lives.
“Look, Liam.” Amal began cautiously. “I might have something for you. A unique contract. High risk, but high reward for Valorus. I was going to send Greene, but it might be better for you to take it. It’ll definitely cover the medical bills and then some, but we’ll need to talk in person.”
Liam’s heart raced. The thought of being able to do something productive instead of moping around his family’s farm was tempting, especially if it meant a chance to help his mom. He was conflicted—he had come home to be with his family, to support them in this trying time. But the opportunity his boss was hinting at could change everything.
“I…I need to think about it, Amal.”
“I understand,” Amal replied. “But if you’re considering it, come into the office. We’ll review the details, but Greene was supposed to leave tomorrow. If I’m going to send you in his place, we’ll need to work fast.”
“No pressure, right?” Liam said, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
“I’m sorry, my friend. I know this is a difficult time—I’m just trying to help the best way I know to.”
“Thanks, Amal. Let me talk to my parents, and then I’ll give you a call after and let you know either way.”
When his boss agreed, Liam ended the call and looked around his room, trying to determine the best course of action. The decision ahead was not just about a job—it was about family, sacrifice, and the lengths he would go to to protect his loved ones.
Liam left his room and paused at the threshold to inhale the scent of freshly brewed coffee, the comforting aroma taking him back to simpler times. The wooden floors creaked gently under his weight as he made his way to the living room. There, in their usual spots, sat his parents. His mother, wrapped in a light shawl, looked fragile but trying to put on a brave face. His father’s eyes, though weary, held their familiar determination.
Liam couldn’t help but feel like he was looking at his future, for children were just the biological clones of their parents—their mortality just a glimpse of what lay ahead for their offspring. If he ever had kids of his own, they would one day look at him the way he looked at his parents. Complete in the knowledge that, eventually, your time must run out, an inviolable law of the universe.
They both looked up as their son entered. “Morning,” his father greeted, his voice thick with feigned cheerfulness.
His mother gave a weak smile, “You look like you haven’t slept a wink.”
Liam paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. He could complain about aches and pains or troubled dreams. But what did they matter to someone battling cancer? His problems seemed petty in comparison, mere wasted time when they had little left.
“Had a call from Amal this morning,” he began, the gravity of the situation pressing on him. “He has a job for me. High risk, but…it would cover your treatments, Mom.”
His parents exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them as only people who spent a long time together could. His father cleared his throat,” Liam, we’ve always been proud of what you do, but you don’t have to take on more risks for us—your mom and I have made our peace.”
His mother’s eyes welled with tears. “I don’t want you to put yourself in harm’s way because of me,” she whispered.
Liam knelt in front of her, taking her frails hand in his. “ Mom, I don’t know the details of the contract. For all I know, Amal meant high risk for the company, not necessarily to me.”
“Plus,” he paused, realizing that, rightly or wrongly, he had already decided. He had come simply to inform his parents of that decision. “I’ve trained for this my entire life. If there’s a chance I can help, a chance to turn my skills toward something truly good, I have to take it.”
She squeezed his hands, her voice breaking, “I just want you safe.”
His father, always the pragmatic one, spoke up, “Tell us about the contract.”
Liam detailed what precious little he knew, emphasizing again that he’d be getting more information from Amal. If his boss only wanted to speak to him in person, whatever he was getting into was likely top secret.
“I told you that you’d done enough for the nation but that also you were fighting for the right reason,” his father said slowly before pinning him in place with steely gray eyes. “Do you think going on this contract is the right thing to do?”
Liam knew that instinctively answering wouldn’t be enough to convince his dad. He didn’t need their permission to leave, but he wanted their blessing. It would be the only thing that might absolve him of guilt if his mother were to pass while he was away. Liam needed to convince them.
He met his father’s gaze, and despite being a middle-aged man, he felt like a scared boy trying to explain a bad grade in school. “Dad, I need to do this. I need to be useful.”
His father exchanged a hard look with his wife, and she nodded a fraction. “Be safe, son. We’ll be praying for you.”
“Thank you, Dad—Mom,” Liam said, glancing between his parents. “I’ve got to get back to HQ right away. I can’t waste any time.”
“I love you, Liam. Thank you for always trying to help,” his mom said with a small smile.
Liam shrugged, “Just doing what you guys taught me.”
He quickly showered, changed into his work clothes, and packed his bag. In less than thirty minutes, he called Amal from his truck as it rumbled toward D.C.
Hours later, Liam strode purposefully down the bustling hallways of headquarters. His boots echoed with each step, a sound that resonated with confidence and a lifetime of experience. Military memorabilia, photographs of valor, and the names of fallen comrades—a constant reminder of the sacrifices made in service to the UNA—adorned the walls.
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As he moved through the corridors, other contractors nodded in respect as they passed him to finish up whatever business they needed to attend to before leaving for the weekend.
Reaching the door marked “The Boss,” Liam smiled at Amal’s little joke. He paused momentarily, gathering his thoughts and emotions before knocking on his friend’s door.
“Come in,” Amal called from within the office.
Liam opened the door and stepped inside. He glanced around, finding his friend's office a symbol of efficiency and order. Framed military accolades, certificates of achievement, and photographs depicting units and missions that were long in the past littered the walls.
The boss’ desk, positioned against the far wall, was a robust piece of wooden furniture, meticulously organized with a stack of papers and folders neatly arranged. A full-sized talwar sat horizontally in its stand atop the shelves that crowned the desk, a symbol of Amal’s faith and martial background.
Amal turned in his high-backed leather chair and warmly smiled—a genuine reflection of his character that had endeared him to his colleagues in special forces.
He stood up to embrace his friend. Amal cut a striking figure, standing at 6’2” with a commanding presence that effortlessly drew the attention of any room he walked into. His broad shoulders and sturdy build hinted at years of rigorous physical training and discipline despite spending more time behind a desk recently.
His face, carved with deep-set, contemplative hazel eyes, bore the stories of countless missions and decisions made in the line of duty. A prominent aquiline nose sat above full lips, often set in a strain line when in through but capable of the warmest smiles that reached his eyes.
His complexion was a deep shade of tan, a testament to his South Asian heritage, and accentuated by a meticulously maintained salt-and-pepper beard that reached a couple of inches below his chin.
As a practicing Sikh, the most striking feature was his turban, or ‘dastaar.’ it was often in a solid, dark hue like navy or black, sometimes adorned with a subtle pattern. The turban represented his devout faith and added to his distinct and dignified look. Beneath it, his hair was long, as per Sikh tradition, though most people never saw it.
Amal liked to dress in a way that married formality with functionality, often sporting tailored suits that hinted at the muscular physique underneath. However, he never compromised on practicality, ensuring his attire was suitable for the unexpected demands of his progression. His shoes were always polished, but upon closer inspection, one would notice a reinforced steel toe box.
A silver kara, a Sikh symbol of unbreakable attachment to God, adorned his right wrist, while an equally crucial memorial bracelet took up a mirrored position on his left. These symbols, combined with his over demeanor, hinted at a complicated man. One deeply spiritual yet grounded.
After hugging him, Amal held him at arm’s length and searched his face. “It’s good to see you, old friend. How long has it been?”
“Three years—Central America is still a mess, by the way. Annexing Mexico didn’t fix our border problem, only moved it further South. It’s almost sad to see—it reminded me of our time in Iran. It was just a lot of poor, desperate people looking for a way out. More often than not, by the end of a barrel.”
Amal’s face dropped as he let his friend go. “I know, brother. We’re a small outfit, and the UNA doesn’t give us the easy contracts.” He turned toward a small kitchen station on the other side of the office. “Want some tea?”
“Sure,” Liam nodded appreciatively before slinging his bag to the floor and taking a seat in one of the plushly appointed chairs for guests.
Amal spoke over his shoulder as he prepared the tea. “As you know, Valorus has been given the bloodiest, most complicated contracts that other profit outfits haven’t aggressively bid for. They have the luxury of only taking the contracts they want, or by bidding so high on the jobs the groups don’t want, they would get a generous number of credits if the UNA government selected their company.”
Amal gestured around the room. “I’ve been able to grow all of this by selectively bidding on the worst contracts for the highest sums possible while remaining below the high thresholds set by the bigger guys.”
“And by maintaining a firm relationship with the Nationalist Party,” Liam added, neither supportive nor critical.
“Exactly,” Amal nodded. “It’s through that relationship, Valorus has been delivered a great opportunity. Through my friendship with a certain chairman in the Party that won’t be named, I’ve received word of an exclusive contract to protect a top-secret research facility in the UNA.”
Amal stirred his tea, deep in thought. “It’s high-dollar for relatively little risk—a least, a risk to personnel. It’s a gamble for the company. Even so, I even learned the exact amounts of the other bids and have positioned ourselves such that we won the contract.”
Liam’s eyes widened at his friend’s admission. He had friends in higher places than the contractor realized. On the surface, that kind of information was illegal. Coming from a Party chairman, it became a little…complicated.
Amal frowned and made a dismissing gesture. “It’s better you don’t know the particulars. It’s safe to say this is an opportunity to run with the big dogs. If we complete this contract successfully, we’ll have earned the trust of people I’m wary of even mentioning their names. Doing so would expose you to unnecessary risks.”
Liam placed his tea on the coffee table and crossed his arms. “And all I would have to do for this super-secret, super-important assignment is run…security?” Liam couldn’t cover the disbelief that colored his voice.
“I know,” Amal agreed. “It sounds wild, but it’s true. Some powers transcend party, cross national lines, and disrupt the world paradigm as we know it. These powers have something locked up tight that they don’t want anyone to see. That’s the job, and those are the stakes.”
Liam uncrossed his arms. The frank admission from his friend was enough to make him receptive to the offer, even if it weren’t his mother’s life on the line. Amal was genuinely asking for his help, and if Liam was anything, he was a person that helped those in need—especially his friends and family. He had two reasons now to take the job.
“What about my mom?” He decided to get down to brass tacks.
“First, this isn’t just another assignment. This research facility houses groundbreaking advancements in technology, defense systems, and biotech projects that could change the world for the better. This contract isn’t just about the money for you—there might be medical technology to cure your mother’s cancer.”
Amal trailed off and checked Liam’s face for a reaction. Seeing none, he continued.
“I know you can’t rely on ‘mights’ and ‘maybes.’ In addition to a potential cure, I’ll pay you three hundred thousand credits each year you lead the project. That’s double what I would pay someone else in a similar position. You’ll have earned almost a million credits by the end of the three years. I don’t know how much cancer treatment costs, but I have to imagine it’s less than that. If it isn’t, let me know, and we can work something out.”
Liam maintained a carefully neutral expression. The sum was far more than he expected. He earned a little more than six figures per year as a senior contractor. The company also took care of his lodging and living expenses while on the job. Because of that, he had already saved a tidy sum in a retirement account and enough liquid capital to begin his mother’s treatment, if not see it to completion.
“I hope you see how important this is,” Amal interrupted his train of thought. “Honestly, you were one of my picks for this mission in the first place. If I hadn’t needed a cool head in Guatemala, I would’ve tapped you first. It’s not exactly a happy circumstance that brought you here, but at least I can be confident you’re the right person for this contract.”
With a sigh, Liam decided to accept the assignment. His mind turned to the operational requirements of the mission. “Who’s my second?”
“Greene,” Amal said with a smile. He knew his friend had accepted, and they only needed to work out the details. “He’ll follow you with the rest of the team a week after instead of being the team leader.”
“I like Greene,” Liam commented idly as he considered the other man’s background. Greene was a former SEAL who likely had as much combat time as he did himself. There was a considerable rivalry between the guys like Greene, who came from the Navy, and Liam, who came from the Army. After all, SEALS were the type to write books and run for public office, while Delta Force considered themselves the ultimate silent professionals.
“I figured you would,” Amal said quickly. You’re going early to get the lay of the land and a turnover from the last group that provided security.”
“Who had the last contract?”
“Redwater or whatever they’re calling themselves now. They’ve been acquired a couple of times by various other companies,” Amal replied dismissively. “Either way, they know what they’re doing and’ll be professional about the handover.”
“Do you know anything about the facility?”
“No,” his boss gave a slight shake of the head. “I only have a basic brief that I’ll have forwarded to you by the end of the day. Whatever is there has some exciting stuff going on. You’ll get a more detailed breakdown from the facility’s director.”
Liam nodded, expecting the answer. Apparently, the research was on a need-to-know basis, and Amal wasn’t on the fairly short list of recipients. He would probably get a more comprehensive information package, but that was only so he could organize the facility’s security. He wouldn’t be surprised if the facility director expected him to keep most of the secrets from even his men.
“Okay, I’m assuming transport has already been arranged?”
“It has,” Amal nodded. “I’ll have everything sent to your company email by the end of the day. I would respectfully suggest you spend the limited time you have left to review the mission brief and compose your initial thoughts. Send me an update when you arrive at the facility.”
Liam nodded and stood. He grabbed his now-cooled tea and drained it in one large gulp. After putting the cup back down, he nodded to his boss. “Anything else I need to know?”
“No,” Amal said as he rose to his feet and embraced Liam in another hug. “Thanks again for taking this job. I know it isn’t easy on you, and I want you to know that you’re doing Valorus a huge favor. If you need anything for this job, don’t hesitate to let me know. Your work will be vitally important to the future of the company.”
Liam nodded and turned to leave. “I’ll be seeing you, old friend. I can’t thank you enough for helping me and my family.”