Recalled To Duty

Chapter One

AFTER COUNTLESS BATTLES with the Shillaqi, all Andrew had to show for it were the scars that crisscrossed his face. He stood in the doorway to Laura's office casting a shadow over her. Tall and with the physique of a bodybuilder, he seemed out of place indoors, like he should be tripping pipe on an oil rig or driving cattle across the plains.

Laura had run from her own demons. Maine. California. Then across the globe to this patch of expatriate paradise in Malaysia. She soon realized drinking was much easier than filling out change of address forms, so he wasn't surprised to find her passed out in her office. Her jeans lay crumpled in the doorway at his feet, her bra hung on an old wooden chair. She sat at her desk, crying, with a framed picture of her and her family in the woods.

Hey, Andrew said. What's the matter? His hypersensitive nose caught her scent down the hall, a mix of booze, sweat, and blood. At this distance, even Cindy would smell her. His neural implants filtered out the scents. A cheap oscillating fan lazily rustled the papers on her desk. He tossed her bra onto the desk and lowered himself into the chair, it creaked and groaned in protest.

Nothin', she replied. She smiled, but it looked more like a wince. I gotta get this form out today or we'll run out of food.

Slept here last night?

Guess so. She scrawled her signature at the bottom and stood up to feed the fax machine on the filing cabinet behind her. Her breasts hung heavy in her tank top, a silver cross dangled from her neck. Laura's legs were a web of scars like his own and above her right knee, the stab wound from Prague, but her face and neck were pristine. It cost her more than money to have those combat wounds erased.

You should get cleaned up or go upstairs, Cindy will be here in fifteen minutes.

Cindy's father and husband built this house as a wedding present, she had raised twelve kids in this home, and when money was tight, she had converted it into a cafe to serve the expats that worked at the factory in the valley. Laura added on a small stage and extended the bar when she purchased it and she kept Cindy on to manage the place.

Music had been important to them once.

Laura spread her arms wide. You think she's going to be offended seeing a woman like this? I'm too hung over to care.

The fax machine began buzzing and the paper cycled through it. She slumped into her seat.

You look like crap Laura and you smell. She's your employee and you should respect her enough to clean yourself up.

I'm beyond caring. She reached over her head and grabbed the paper as it exited the fax machine. She crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the trash can.

He spotted a tremble in her hands. Jesus Christ Laura, your hands. You need to lay off the booze.

She stared at her hands. Not again, she mumbled.

Andrew wasn't sure if she was talking to him until she added, give it a rest.

He loved her like a sister and he hated to see her this way, sloppy and hungover.

Missin' Katie huh? He grabbed the picture; Laura carried Katie in a front pack and Phil held Oscar's leash. A dramatic waterfall cascaded behind them. It was a Rockwell-like snapshot before everything fell apart. She had attacked her role as wife and mother with the kind of intensity she had reserved for the Shillaqi, but she couldn't hold it together.

She didn't talk about her divorce, except what dribbled out when she was drunk. He did know that Phil had taken a restraining order out on her about a month after the photo was taken. Within a week of the court order, she had signed over her parental rights, divorce papers, and moved to Maine.

My girl's growing up without me, she cried. Her eyes were swollen.

He was powerless to help her. He didn't have the skill set to deal with emotional problems, he wasn't sure if it was a lack of training or just another genetic mistake.

Crying, she poured herself another shot.

Laura you need to stop. You were out of control last night.

She waved her hands at him. I don't remember much, why don't you just give me the highlights.

She downed the shot, but held the glass to her chest.

You bounced a guy. He sucker punched you in the parking lot. You taunted him...

That sounds vaguely familiar. She scrunched her face. I kicked his ass didn't I? She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand.

You could have killed him!

She sighed loudly. I didn't.

Because your technique was sloppy.

She threw her glass at him. Screw you! I was drunk.

He snatched it out of the air and placed it on the desk.

That's the problem Laura. He paused. Then a fanboy recognized you. The more he pestered you, the more you drank. You were a mess, Laura. A real mess. It hurt him to see her this way.

Did I start crying? I think I remember crying.

You kept saying you had nothing left to live for, that's usually my line. He paused to choose his words carefully. You need to dry out.

No! We tried that. I can't go through withdrawal again. She shook her head and recoiled. She got angry. Why are you harassing me about my drinking when all you ever do is mope around the apartment? She died. It wasn't your fault. Get over it already, it's been three years. I should ship your ass back to the Hoe-Ret.

I could say the same thing about you, he growled. The memory of his dead girlfriend stung him and he kicked her desk. The picture frame fell over. His failure to save Cammie played in his head and it was stuck on infinite repeat, it was always there lurking.

That was childish, Laura taunted. She picked up the picture, checked for damage, and held it against her chest.

Andrew stood up abruptly. I need to go running. In his head he repeated his mantra, motion fixes emotion. He stopped at her door and turned. You know this isn't right, right? This isn't us. We were invincible once.

We weren't invincible. They just brainwashed us into thinking we were so we'd stand our ground. We're human, just a bit less fragile than the normals. They bred us for fighting, not to run a bar, not to fall in love, and certainly not to be parents. She put the picture down gently on her desk and leaned back in her chair.

I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. We were meant to do so much more and I'm squandering that potential. I'm a warrior without a war. What good am I? What purpose do I serve? Any one of Cindy's kids can do my job.

I know what you mean.

None of us have been able to make this work. He rubbed the bare wood door frame. There was a lot of bare wood in the house: floors, window trim, door trim. Cindy's husband was a gifted carpenter and there was no need to cover the woodwork with paint, just a coat of stain to bring out the natural beauty and coats of poly to protect it.

Jinbo seems to be doing okay, she said. The couple of times we've talked, he sounded happy.

Jinbo, the pilot of their ship the Aegis, was racing his bicycle across the United States. He occasionally went to the Paladin 6 conventions in uniform to keep their fans happy.

He had been in the safety of the ship, Laura said. Probably doesn't have PTSD as bad as we do.

Andrew scanned the room for something to hold his attention, if that race day memory surfaced, it'd trap him. It would hold him in a spiral that led ever closer to suicide. The day Cammie died. He turned to the door. I gotta go, the walls are closing in on me.

Hey, wait. Sara and I are goin out tonight, come with us, she said softly. Sara had been her first roommate in Virginia before she met Phil and had recently transferred to Singapore for work.

He leaned his head against the door frame. Billy's racing tonight.

Oh come on. Record it. Billy would want you to go out and live a little, she pleaded.

She's going to take one look at me and freak out. Andrew banged his head gently against the door jam.

I got my scars removed and so can you Frankenstein. You don't have to be so self-conscious.

I don't think so.

Besides, you met her at my wedding and you were like a hundred pounds heavier back then, so stop coming up with excuses.

Oh thanks, remind me about my weight gain, that makes me feel much better. Andrew thought for a moment. You quit drinking for the rest of the day and I'll come out.

Today's not a good day.

Today's the best day.

She tried to read his eyes. He wiped his face of emotion and judgment and left only resolve.

She handed him the bottle. You going for a run?

I need to now.

Sorry. Remember, change quick, get out of the apartment as fast as you can. Repeat your mantra, and do not stop.

He nodded, picked up her pants and tossed them to her.

He shuffled into the kitchen where Cindy was prepping for the breakfast crowd. Cindy's youngest daughter and oldest grandson were working side by side, the sixteen year old boy three years her senior.

I made a deal with Laura. She's not drinking anymore today, so if you catch her heading for the scotch, remind her that her day isn't up yet.

Yea boss, Cindy replied. She drink too much.

I'm headed out for a run. Laura and I are going out tonight.

Selamat Jalan.

Selemat tinngal.

As he dragged himself up the stairs to the apartment he shared with Laura, he got anxious. The past was painful. The PTSD from fighting the Shillaqi and the depression after Cammie's tragic accident overwhelmed him. Inside the apartment, he saw the couch and froze. The tablet computer on the coffee table beckoned. I should check on Jinbo's progress. He looked at the TV. An old episode of Kung Fu might cheer me up. He knew that was a lie. He took a step towards the couch. If he sat down, the couch would imprison him. Held there against his will, he would relive every mistake he ever made in vivid detail. With every repetition of those mistakes, he would convince himself that he had no reason to live and his thoughts would eventually turn to suicide. He inched over to the couch and sank into the cushions. He hated himself, but he still picked up the computer. I'm here, I might as well check on Jinbo's progress.

Laura breezed in and spotted him on the couch. Get your ass up!

No, he mumbled. I was just...

"Now! She grabbed him by the neck and forced him off the couch. Get changed. If you're still here when I get out of the shower, I'm gonna kick your ass. She pushed him down the hall, shoved him into his room, and retreated to her own. Motion fixes emotion," she yelled.

Motion fixes emotion. He changed, avoiding the bed, it was as evil as the couch and given time he'd find an excuse to hide under the covers. He took a deep breath and made a dash for the door, raced down the stairs, and jogged through the steamy tropical heat. Andrew kept an easy pace for the first ten minutes to allow his muscles to warm up.

Ten years ago, when they had been retired, they were told to quietly integrate themselves into society, an angry society. It's tough to blend in when you're heavily tattooed and your easy mile pace is five minutes. He couldn't go to a regular gym, the weights he used attracted too much attention.

They had saved Earth, but decimated the Shillaqi population in the process. When word of the genocide leaked, citizens across the globe revolted. Protestors demanded they surrender to the International Criminal Court for war crimes against the Shillaqi. War Crimes. The real crime was sending six teenagers against a planet full of desperate Shillaqi.

Reporters tracked down his address and camped out on the street outside his apartment, hounding him whenever he left the building. He huddled inside the apartment with the shades drawn during the day. When he absolutely had to leave the apartment, he waited until dark and leapt off the roof. Trapped in the apartment, he went soft. PTSD kept him on edge with nightmares and flashbacks. Those were dark days.

The Earth Defense Force attacked their tarnished image problem like any corporation, by hiring a PR firm to repair the damage. They commissioned an animated kids show called Paladin 6 which explained how a small group of Hoe-Ret, fleeing the Shillaqi, landed on Earth and created the EDF to protect the planet. The voiceover at the beginning of the cartoon told of their creation from raw genetic material, engineered from DNA to be super soldiers. The fictional characters beat the Shillaqi at every turn but never killed any of them. Kids loved the show and it became a huge hit.

The EDF followed up with a big budget live action movie filled with A-list actors. In the movie, the Shillaqi blew up their own planet, it was advertised as based on a true story so people believed it, but it was pure fiction. After the movie came out, they were hailed as heroes and the reporters lost interest.

He chased MotoGP races then, traveling from track to track; wrenching when he was needed; racing when he could get a ride. Those were fun days. He pushed the pace to a five minute mile hoping it would block out the memory of meeting Cammie, but it was useless.

There she was six years ago in that gray business suit talking to anyone who'd listen about how great her design was if she could only get it built. She was raw and abrasive, but brilliant. He invested his EDF retirement money and when that ran out, he introduced her to people with the kind of money she needed.

It took a year and a half to get the bike built and during that time they had grown close. She had this funny way of scrunching up her face when she was thinking hard, it looked like she was winking.

They finished assembling the engine the night before its first race. When it started, she was so excited she kissed him. Her gratitude morphed into love.

She was right, the bike was a technological leap forward and she dominated the next seven races.

They went to the beach the day before she died. There was a blanket on hot sand, a cooler full of food and beer, and she wore a yellow bikini. There was no one in the world as beautiful as his tattooed biker chick in a yellow bikini.

He didn't want to see the crash and the bike cartwheeling through the air, but the memory resurfaced. Maybe if I focus on the bonfire on the beach, I can put off the race. He hoped that this time was different, but the same genetic gifts that allowed him to steal Shillaqi secrets with a glance locked him into a flashback so vivid, he could tell how many splinters of carbon fiber had sheared off the shattered fairing. She slid across the pavement and rolled like a rag doll across the grass until she hit the wall. He threw himself over the fence and leaped across the course to be by her side. He had taken enough life to recognize a lifeless body when he saw one. The motorcycles flew by under a yellow flag, his training kicked in and he dodged them without even thinking. He beat the emergency crews to her body, but there was nothing he could do. He balled his fists, but there was no one to punch.

A shout snapped him back to the present. A bicyclist, struggling to pass him, demanded the right of way.

Tears flowed down his face. His breathing lost rhythm and he gasped for air. He dropped his pace. The tears streaming down his face, were they the same tears? The past was so vivid he had trouble separating it from the present.

It's been three years, Laura is right. Why can't I let go?

Laura had come to Malaysia to comfort him. She had nothing left for her in the States, so she stayed. She couldn't fix his depression, but gave him tools to help when it got bad. They worked on his stuttering and aside from the occasional pause when he spoke, you'd never know he had a stutter.

Sweat soaked his clothes. He'd lost a lot of speed in ten years and he lost more every day. After another hour of running, the intensity of the flashbacks faded.

Motion fixes emotion.

Disappointed with his workout and still depressed, he turned and took a narrow path through the rainforest.

Entering his third hour of running, the endorphins kicked in and the veil of depression lifted. Each step brought him a little more peace. His breathing rhythmic, his mind empty, he calmed down. Everything else faded away, he ran in the zone and the miles slipped by beneath his feet.

Motion fixes emotion.

He was almost startled to discover he had looped back to the bar. The effects from the run would keep the depression at bay for a couple of hours.

He showered, changed, and dropped in to help Cindy prep for the dinner crowd. He stepped out to clean up once again to go out with Laura and her friend. While he waited for Laura at the bar, he sent a quick email of encouragement to Jinbo and checked the start time for Billy's race.

You're Andrew, right?

Uh yeah, he said. Sara?

Yes. Hi. Nice tats. Laura and I are going out tonight, she said you might be joining us? She's told me all about you.

Sara, dressed in a red and black leather riding suit, plunked her helmet on the bar. Her dark hair swirled around her shoulders.

He took a quick mental image and dropped his eyes. He closed the laptop and slipped it behind the bar. Sounds like fun. What are you riding?

Fifty Two Harley, she said. You?

Nice. Hayabusa, His face contorted and his lips refused to move, But I've got a couple others in the garage. His eyes darted across the room in the direction of the garage.

Laura tells me you’ve done a little wrenching. My bike's got this annoying ticking sound. Could you take a look at it?

Andrew swept his hand towards the door and followed her to the parking lot. She led him to a beautiful Bobber with a springer front end and a suicide shifter. The tank and rear fender were painted a glossy black base with muted yellow orange flames. She jumped on the kickstarter and the bike roared to life.

The sound.

It was one of the things he liked most about bikes. This wasn’t the high pitched whine of a sportbike, the high revs made those bikes seem anxious and restless. No, it was slow, it was relaxed, it was the laid-back heartbeat of a vintage panhead and it soothed him.

Before he could diagnose the problem, the garage door opened. Laura wheeled her red Ducati superbike out and she tipped her head towards Andrew's bike. He nodded, jogged inside, and wheeled out his yellow Hayabusa.

You think you can keep up? he asked as he straddled his bike. The garage door descended behind him.

Sara revved her engine in response. You think you’re funny or something?

No, I just a... he fumbled for words.

She flashed a smile. I'll give it a shot.

At least she's got a sense of humor, he thought as they sped off. They ripped up the road, leaned deep into the turns, and let the bikes loose. Andrew cracked a smile.

They raced to the top of a new parking deck in the Bangsar District. Sara dismounted and her riding leathers transformed into a gray v-neck sleeveless top and a short black leather skirt.

What just happened? Laura asked.

You like it? Newest in nanotechnology, Sara said as she twirled. I have fifteen different outfits programmed into my tablet. I tap the screen and wham, instant new look.

Where did you get that? Laura asked.

China, where else? You wouldn't believe the gadgets they have, if you know where to look. My guess is an American company got hacked and the Chinese copied the technology. I paid a hundred US for the nanobots and another hundred for the app, but I can download outfits off the Internet for pennies. If you like, I can pick one up for you next time I travel to the mainland.

That's OK, not interested. We've seen that tech before, Laura said. She glanced down at the Armadillo on her wrist disguised as a watch.

So it's stolen right? Sara asked.

Yes, Laura replied curtly. It's military technology. She hoped Sara wouldn't ask any more questions.

Military, Sara whistled. Why would they want to make clothes?

Laura sighed. They weren't thinking of fashion when they designed the technology. The same forces that hold the nanobots together can stop a bullet.

You mean I'm bulletproof now?

Probably not, the original tech was built around a material called Valtite. Very rare. Mondo expensive.

Andrew tucked in his shirt. Compared to these two radiant women, he felt like the nightmare in the shadows. I'm underdressed, he stuttered.

Don't be silly, Sara said. Jeans 'n a t-shirt is a classic look. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the parking garage elevator.

Her hand felt awkward on his arm. His first instinct was to brush it away, he wasn't used to women touching him, not since Cammie. He glanced at the side of her face.

Laura tapped Andrew on the shoulder and nodded towards a black Suburban that parked on the other side of the deck, he waved two fingers at the street. Laura nonchalantly leaned on the railing and spotted another two Suburbans across the street.

My friend owns this Italian restaurant a couple blocks from here, said Sara. They've got great calamari.

Tough to find good Italian in Malaysia, Andrew commented.

Sara led them out onto a street that was ramping up for a night of exotic experiences. Neon lights flickered, street vendors cooked up a complex tapestry of smells, and call girls lured men into bars like modern day Sirens.

The restaurant was full, Sara flashed a smile at the maître d’ and he waved her through the crowd. She kept a tight grip on Andrew's arm as she led them to the kitchen. Chef Luigi, a heavyset man who was quick to laugh, grabbed her with great big meaty hands and pulled her in close.

Throughout the appetizers, Andrew couldn't bring himself to look in Sara's eyes. He looked at her shoulders, her chin, her hands, anything but her eyes or her breasts. She told stories. Funny stories about the time Laura was pulled off balance by Oscar and she landed face down in a creek. It was impossible, of course, Laura must have faked it to seem normal, but the way Sara told it made him chuckle.

So the mailman comes to the door, Sara said with a smile, and he says I think this is yours. And he holds out my bra and the only thing I could think to say was, 'Victoria Secret cutting down on shipping costs again?' and he stammers out 'Your dog dropped it in front of me'. She laughed so hard she had to pause. So I said to him at least he didn't bring you my panties that would have been really embarrassing.' I mean what else was I going to say, the whole situation was just so absurd.

Oscar loved to chew on your bras, Laura giggled. "All that padding."

Sara laughed. "Bitch."

Andrew, growing bolder looked into Sara's eyes, they sparkled under the restaurant lights. The activity in the restaurant faded to the background, and her laughter comforted him. He had heard about love at first sight, but never experienced it. He barely touched his chicken parmesan. Chef Luigi slapped him on the back and pleaded, Mangia, mangia.

Sara flashed him a flirtatious smile.

When they finished, they thanked Chef Luigi, dropped a stack of bills on the table, and Laura led them out of the restaurant. Andrew and Laura scanned the crowd outside as they had been taught.

Andrew's heart raced. Too many targets. We're way to exposed.

One of the bands we jammed with is playing near here tonight, Laura yelled over her shoulder.

Which one? Andrew shouted.

Alien Abduction Experience.

You jammed with them? Sara asked. They pushed their way through the crowd. Sara grabbed his arm and pulled him close. It still felt foreign to him, but he didn't pull away. The sidewalks were packed with people, but he felt like it was just the two of them.

It was before their album dropped, Andrew said, they won't remember us.

They walked into the bar and were assaulted by cigarette smoke, noise, and a light show. The crowd thrashed to the music. Laura grabbed Sara's hand and began pulling her through the crowd. Sara moved her hand to Andrew's and held tight. When they got to the front of the stage, Laura blew a seductive kiss at Quincy, the lead singer. He winked at her.

How do you like the new stuff? Quincy yelled.

The crowd roared.

Quincy allowed himself a moment to bask in the reverence before he quieted the crowd. "I know they hate the attention, but I gotta tell ya'. Couple months back we were in LA working on our new album and we were jammed up tight. I mean caught at the border with two kilos of coke jammed up. You know we sold our souls for the first album, so we were like looking for some virgins to sacrifice. It's like LA right, there's no virgins anywhere. And we heard rumors about these two cats in Malaysia with a direct line to the nine muses themselves. So, we fly out here. Find 'em behind the bar at the Misty Mountain Saloon. Pick their brains. Pick their guitars. Threw out everything we had except the title and rewrote the album from scratch. Friends, you are in the presence of musical genius, I mean, other than myself, because I see them in the audience tonight. I think, if you shout loud enough, we can get them up on stage. Come on you two get up here."

He extended his hand and Laura stepped up onto the stage and gave Quincy a kiss on the cheek. This woman has the sweetest pipes in the world.

Laura blushed.

Come on man, Quincy urged Andrew, don't let these people down.

Andrew reluctantly handed his jacket to Sara and hopped onto the stage.

Eddie, Quincy screamed. Get this man an ax.

Eddie ran out and pressed an electric guitar into Andrew's hands. Andrew pulled a pick off the microphone stand and played a few chords to warm up his fingers.

Thanks Q, Laura purred. She turned to the audience, You ready for some Foo Fighters? The crowd yelled their approval. Great, here's my favorite, ‘Learn To Fly’.

The band revved up and she belted out luscious vocals. The crowd cheered.

We're going to get them to do one more song before we let them go, Quincy announced. "Andrew's a little shy, but I happen to know he can't resist Zeppelin's ‘Battle Of Evermore’." Andrew shook his head and took off his guitar, but Eddie ran out again and thrust a mandolin into his hands. Quincy motioned for him to step up to the microphone, turned to the crowd, and raised his hands. They got the message and screamed. Andrew stepped up and closed his eyes. He started strumming and poured his soul into the words. Sara was at the foot of the stage with her arms raised and her hips swinging to the beat, but he kept his eyes closed until the last note faded to silence.

Let's hear it for Laura and Andrew.

The crowd roared.

Andrew dropped off the stage. Sara threw her arms around his neck. There was a light sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. The band started up again.

You are amazing, Sara yelled in his ear. He looked in her eyes and pointed to the wall farthest from the music. Fans swarmed Laura as she got off the stage. Andrew reached through the crowd and tapped her shoulder. She pushed through the crowd to follow him away from the stage.

You two should be rock stars, Sara yelled at them.

I can't do that full-time, he yelled. Too much baggage. They stayed for a couple more songs and left the bar.

They passed a statue, a miniature version of the Petronas Towers being strangled by an octopus, as a reminder that once upon a time two very tall buildings had once touched the sky. He had no idea why they chose an octopus to represent the Shillaqi, but it was just as well, the Shillaqi were too ugly for a statue.

The towers fell during their first mission against a Shillaqi Harvester. They had intercepted and infiltrated the alien vessel as it crossed into the Philippines. It was a bloody battle for both sides. The Aegis was damaged and had crashed; the Harvester and all hands went down over the Indian Ocean. That's when he had picked up his first scars.

The Aegis was out of commission for months after that, the team had to jet to Hawaii and catch US military transport every time a Shillaqi Harvester invaded. The delayed response cost many lives and they weren't always successful at stopping the Harvesters.

They begged us for help, he thought. His mind was held captive by fleeting images of the worst battles he had endured.

With a few upgrades to their ship and its weapons systems, the tide turned and they were able to defeat the ships sent to Earth. They took the fight to Shilla Prime and sliced through the Shillaqi planetary defenses. Each member of the team had different assignments and Billy's was to destroy the shipyards. They had nearly lost Billy in that ground attack and it had taken him months to recover from his injuries, but they got the job done.

They begged us. The thought repeated in his head.

Hello, did you hear anything I said? Sara asked as she waved a hand in front of his face.

Sorry, my mind wandered, Andrew said.

Typical guy, Sara said as she spun around to catch up to Laura. Come on. Pick up the pace.

They were halfway to the parking deck when two men stepped out of the