Dan, The Early Years.

Dan, The Early Years. 2054

Year 2054

Lieutenant General Dan Haeckel

Age: 34

Location: Key File Mission, Classified Coordinates

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The rumbling of the car and the skittering sound of dust flying against the exterior walls and underside of the vehicle was making it hard for me to hear Liam down the phone line.

"What was that, kiddo? Your mum's not overworking herself is she? I told her to take the week off work at the hospital. The doctor said..."

"DAD! Dan! It's alright, she's totally fine. It's like whenever James is with her, he gives her a boost.... can hear her laughing... remember what you said about forcing Aunt Jaz to come visit? Is she coming? Is she gonna bring the kid? I've told the guys that you're bringing some Americans over... Dad?"

I smiled grimly, remembering Jaz's reluctance to take Kayli on her first trip out of America. "She's coming, and so is the scamp. You're gonna have to help mum ready the spare rooms. Don't let her be on her feet for longer than half an hour."

"Dad, cool it. You're being dit."

"A what?" Did he just make up an insult? I'd never heard the word and I'd been offended by a variety of people, and in plenty of languages, enough times to know most insults.

"A dit, Dad, keep up with the times. It's a..." Static buzzed and then the car came to an abrupt stop, churning dust and gravel so that I couldn't hear a word being said.

"Buddy, I'm gonna have to go. I'll call as soon as the mission is over and I'm freed by the boss."

"... kick butt... an expensive souvenir... don't get hurt."

Funny how the static allowed the most important words to get through.

"You'll get a souvenir when I get one of your tests with a big A on the top."

"Yeah, yeah..."

"See you later, kiddo."

"See you first, dad."

I hung up and gripped the fragile communication wire in my hand. This would be the last mission I took part in for a while. I was taking leave. I couldn't stand being away from Sondra. Since her heart-attack, she'd been diagnosed with cardiac arrhythmia but then the surgeons discovered she had Polyarteritis Nodosa. My wife, my invincible, carefree wife, was slowly weakening. The doctor hadn't even given her the rest of the year. And it was October.

There was a chance, a slight chance, that she'd fight it and live longer. She was strong, she could fight it, I was sure, but the heart attack had made her tired. I kept feeling as if the only thing keeping her with me was her promise. Her promise to stay with me.

I had to stop going over it. She was strong she'd be fine.

"Sir?" An eager agent saluted me, breaking my depressed trance. "One of the privates has taken your gear into the rooms. Shall I take you to the lieutenant who's been in charge til now?"

I rubbed a hand over my thick stubble, grimacing at the thought of talking to the incompetent git who'd forced this mission to become an international emergency.

"Give me a minute to stretch my legs," I growled, pulling myself out of the vehicle and standing upright for the first time in twenty-one hours.

It felt heavenly. Now all I needed was a shower and I'd be ready to get down to business.

"Ah, Agent Port, the Lieutenant General has arrived then?"

I rolled my shoulders, readying myself. This guy sounded pretty nervous. Must be the lieutenant jackass who'd been left in charge. He should be nervous, he should be trembling in his boots.