May 2076
Salinas, Pacific Territory
United States of America

Fields and farms rolled by as the green and brown landscape of the Central Valley stretched away toward the horizon. The windows of the bus darkened, their light-sensitive tinting activated as the day grew brighter. The bus rumbled through the countryside of the Pacific Territory of the United States of America. The surrounding land of the territory had once been much smaller, called a ‘State’. But during the fractious years after the Greater Depression struck the national economy, many states had banded together to form new, larger, territories. Then the wars with Canada and Mexico had come and small chunks of land that had once held major American cities were stripped from their territories by foreign armies. 

Alex had learned much of it in school. He had seen the maps of what had once been the states of California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Nevada and Arizona. Those states had come together to form the massive Pacific Territory. Then The Second Mexican-American War had seen the loss of a huge swath of territory along the southern border. Los Angeles, San Diego, and Tucson were all lost as the Mexican Army stormed into the southern United States. With her military planted into nearly every country in the world, America simply did not have the economic or military strength to take the cities back. 

The Northern War, of which he father’s friends had spoken, arrived just on the heels of the Southern War with Mexico. The city of Vancouver, in western Canada, had defected and given over control of their city and surrounding territory to the Pacific Territory Authorities, specifically to the city government of Seattle, its citizens tired of a government whose main focus was on the eastern half of the nation. The result of the United States accepting the Canadian city was that, rather than gaining territory and the economic boon Vancouver offered, the United States once again found itself at war with a neighbor. The American military was pushed back almost a hundred miles along a northern border simply too large to adequately defend. Garrisons along the northern border stripped of their core commands to fight the Mexicans in the south found themselves outnumbered and outgunned. In the end, Canada stopped short of a full-scale invasion, content to keep what it had conquered as the United Nations stepped in to put a stop to the fighting. America lost nearly twelve percent of their continental holdings in what amounted to a Canadian blitzkrieg that couldn’t be answered. 

This was all history by the time Alex was born, facts of life that seemed no more difficult to accept than World War II or the Revolution. Some of the older folks, though, still seemed troubled by the ‘New Borders’ which had been in place for nearly two decades now.

The bus suddenly ground to a halt, startling Alex out of his reverie. He refocused his eyes at what lay outside the bus windows and realized he had arrived at his destination. Green farmland stretched out in all directions and Alex studied the hilly terrain on the outskirts of the Salinas Valley. Looks a lot like home, he thought, not sure if that was a comfort or not. He could see, though, that in place of wheat and barley fields common to the central part of the territory, the valley here was covered in green fields of artichokes, avocados, and lettuce. He suddenly remembered what Rourke had said, before Alex had boarded the bus. 

Things are different there, kid. Lots of people who walk and talk and act differently from what they do here. Watch yourself.

As he stepped off the bus, Alex was blasted by a gust of cold air. It startled him. He had expected it to be hot, like the areas the bus had stopped along its route through the Central Valley. Then he remembered just how close Salinas was to the ocean, despite the appearance of being far from the water. The bus had left from Oakvale and travelled on a route that seemed rather indirect to Alex, but it had been his only option. Air travel, while popular, had become almost too expensive for any but the wealthy and the wars waged over the past thirty years had shaken the international airline industry. 

Alex picked his way through the crowds milling in the bus depot, as he slowly made his way toward the sign that indicated how to transfer to the local lines. Arriving at the board that listed the map of the city and the bus lines that traversed it, he glanced at his directions, written on a small scrap of paper he kept in his pocket. He realized he had no idea which bus to take, opting instead to find a counter to ask. There was a short line and Alex took the time to think about everything that had happened over the past two weeks.

Alex had decided to leave Oakvale that very evening after opening his father’s briefcase. It hadn’t been a decision where he weighed the pros and cons. He just seemed to know that was what he needed to do. Rachel of course thought he was crazy, but she was his older sister and he had never expressed any desire to join the military before.

“Just because one of Dad’s friends shows up after twenty years and gives you a case with a bunch of memorabilia in it, doesn’t mean you need to go off and make your mark by following in his footsteps,” she had practically shrieked when he had told her his plans. 

“I’m not a kid anymore Rachel. You might want to go on like life was before, but we both know that isn’t possible,” Alex had replied, his voice quiet but steady. “I can’t stay here, not after what happened. You know that and I know that. If I can go talk to Mr. Blake, maybe he can help me figure out what I’m supposed to do with my life.”

Rachel hadn’t been able to respond. She had burst into tears minutes later, because she knew, in the end, her brother was right. Mayor Hawthorne had made it clear Alex would be brought up on one set of charges or another, anything they could stick to him to ship him off to prison. Alex had wanted to tell Rourke his plans, but the older man had left town not long after the funeral. He had said he had personal business to attend to, but Alex thought that perhaps he simply needed space to be away from everything that had happened.

Alex’s farewell had been bittersweet. Rachel had decided to follow Alex’s example and leave town. Their parents had had life insurance, something almost unheard of with the current state of the economy. She and Alex received enough out of the policy to get a new start one life. They had ultimately come to the conclusion that selling the farm would be all but impossible. It had never held much value to begin with, aside from allowing the family to survive. Rachel had signed the document deeding the land to Rourke the day before Alex left, she being of age and the legal owner now that their parents were gone. Though Rourke wasn’t present to agree, Alex and Rachel couldn’t bear to put it up on the auction block.

“Mayor Jordan or the Jamesons will probably buy it and then burn it to the ground,” Rachel had said, her tone obviously showing a mix of disgust and fear at the prospect.

“And then turn the land and sew it with salt,” Alex added dryly. Then more seriously, and gently, he said, “Mr. Rourke will take care of things, Rach, don’t worry about that. Heck, maybe he can even rent it out to someone, keep him off his feet for the rest of his life.”

Rachel had simply nodded agreement. The whole business of leaving town had made them both anxious with twinges of excitement and sadness mixed in. The prospect of a new start, mixed with the fear of leaving the only home they had ever known, made the situation more difficult than Alex had hoped it would have been.

“What can I do for you, young man,” the voice of the clerk at the bus station woke Alex from his reminiscence and he quickly focused back on his task at hand.

“Uh, yeah, I need to get here,” Alex said, indicating the address on the business card he held in his right hand, pressing it up against the glass for the woman to see. He didn’t know how to pronounce the street name and hope her reading it would prove more helpful than listening to him negotiate the syllables.

“Avenue de Trabajo,” she read, her accent as fluent as if she had been born in Mexico. Alex knew that was nearly impossible, since the purging of immigrants during the Southern Wars had seen the great migrations south of all non-citizen residents. His father had always remarked that the purges were a stain on American culture and heritage, like the Japanese internment camps during the second World War. “Si, that’s old Work Street, over by the train tracks. Take the number 14 line, it’s a direct route. Next!”

Alex moved out of the way as the next person in line took his spot at the window, wondering how he was supposed to get to the number fourteenth line in the first place. He wandered out of the main terminal, figuring the bus routes would pick passengers up outside like they did at home. As he exited the building, he felt the warm reassurance of the sun beating down onto his face. The air outside wasn’t nearly so cold as it had been in the terminal, but it still held a chilly undertone, weather being what it was in mid-May. Pedestrians milled about like ants near a hive, thousands of people passing each other on the hunt for one thing or another in their daily lives. The sight of so many people wasn’t what made Alex gape though; he was used to mass volumes of people walking around cities having grown up near one. What made his mouth fall open were the skyscrapers he had somehow missed as the bus rolled into town. He realized then he had been on the other side of the bus , looking out over the field rather than toward the city itself.

Salinas, like Oakvale, had had a rapid explosion in population. At the turn of the century the city had boasted just over 150,000 residents. By 2065 the population had skyrocketed to well over one million. While much of the valley was still rich cropland, a significant part of it had also become residential districts. With Los Angeles and San Diego currently under occupation by Mexico, businesses had moved north. Salinas had been one of the prime locations for development. While Monterey was the military fist of the western coast, Salinas was the supply center, pumping the lifeblood of money and food up and down the territory through the valley. And while all of the towns along the valley had swelled in population, none had boomed the way Salinas had. Alex had learned at school that there had even been a push to move the capital of the territory down to the Central Coast region, but the plan had been defeated because of the fear of having both civilian and military leadership in one, concentrated location. 

Alex craned his neck, gazing at the buildings towering above him. Most were no more than seven stories but three buildings prominently embraced the sky, each at least forty stories tall. The spires reached heavenward, like Atlas holding the world on his shoulders. Alex wondered who lived or worked in those magnificent structures. Then another, more calculating side of him kicked in and wondered why anyone would build buildings that high, given how easy of a target they were to enemy artillery or terrorist strikes. 

The nation Alex had been raised in was not one dominated by peace, as it had been during his grandfather’s lifetime. Wars, droughts, and homegrown terrorism plagued the United States of America throughout the middle part of the century and that had shaped popular ideas and culture. While his grandfather had complained often enough about the Muslim extremists and their aversion to democracy, Alex’s experience had told him that the real people to be feared were the reactionary, American-born revolutionaries. There had been a few who had lived in Oakvale, what with it being so near the mountains where many of them had their survivalist ranches. More than one homemade bomb had claimed innocent lives, linked back to white supremacist and anti-government militias over the past 30 years. Unlucky bystanders caught in a crossfire they had never seen coming.

“A man makes his own luck, by his actions and his abilities,” Alex said to no one in particular as he returned himself to the task at hand.

“You’re a little bit young to be using heavy words like that, Mr. Samuelson,” came a familiar voice from the man standing next to Alex at the bus stop. 

He turned and found Blake. He was attired much the same as he had been at the funeral. A white, button up shirt, the collar left open, was tucked into neat khaki slacks. A brown leather belt and work boots of a matching hue accented the outfit. Alex also noticed that, unlike at the funeral, Blake had a side arm, a Bennington by the shape of the grip, tucked into a black holster that was clipped to his belt. Alex knew at once Blake was even more important than he had previously thought. Bennington Firearms was a company that worked exclusively with the military, a small but prestigious weapons company founded after the Mexican War. 

“Mr. Blake! Sorry, I, I didn’t see you standing there, I was ju, just a little overwhelmed,” Alex stammered, caught off guard by how easily Blake had approached him without soliciting any notice.

“No worries, Alex. Can I call you Alex?” Blake responded easily, his calm manner a stark relief to Alex’s anxiety at the overwhelming city.

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir,” Alex responded quickly, acutely conscious that he was being too formal for a friendly greeting. 

“You aren’t in the Army yet, Alex, and you won’t be if I have anything to say about it. Follow me, I’ve got a better way to get around than the buses,” said Blake, waving his hand for Alex to follow. Blake turned and started walking without waiting to see if Alex was following. 

“I thought the whole reason you asked me to come here was to help me get into the Army?” Alex asked, caught off guard by both the bluntness of the comment and by Blake’s quick departure.

“No Alex, I have something else in mind for you,” Blake said without turning his head. 

He pulled out a set of keys and clicked a button on the base of one. A beep sounded from a truck parked along the street near where they were walking. Blake opened the trunk and Alex handed him his bags, which Blake set down in the rear of the large vehicle. Blake motioned for Alex to get in the passenger’s seat and Alex wasn’t inclined to argue with the man. Black leather seats matched the steel colored interior of the vehicle and Alex noticed something odd about the windows.

“Mr. Blake, why are all the windows double-paned like this?” he asked as he studied the windshield.

“Ah, you noticed my most recent upgrade, did you?” Blake asked, a tone of approval in his voice. “It’s bullet-proof glass, of a type that can stop anything short of an armor piercing round and easy to repair or replace on the go. Good eyes there, Alex. I knew I made the right decision asking you to join us here. And don’t call me Mr. Blake when we are out and about. Just call me Daren, or Blake, or if you find it difficult to use my name, you can address my by my rank - Colonel.”

Alex nodded dumbly, simply content to absorb things as they came. Blake spoke little throughout the drive, mostly commenting on the weather or pointing out various famous places along the drive. Alex absently acknowledged everything said, all the while taking in the sights, and sounds, of the city. Blake drove them down through the center of the city, the business district of town. Alex continued to stare and the towering buildings as the jeep rolled through streets thronging with all types of people and vehicles. They passed through the business district and turned out onto a road heading west, towards the ocean. The jeep rolled out of the city proper, and they entered what Alex could only think of as suburbs.

“This whole area used to have multiple towns and cities, many of them small but still separate,” Blake said waving to the buildings on both sides, as if reading Alex’s mind. “After a while, the growth here just pushed everything together. When the government formed the territory, the city councils here saw an opportunity and Salinas simply incorporated what had once been three other towns.”

As if to highlight Blake’s point, Alex saw a sign on the side of the road. It was weathered and much of the paint was washed away but it still clearly read ‘Welcome to the city of Marina, California’. Beyond the old sign lay a new one, brightly painted in blue and gold, the old state colors of California, proclaiming ‘Welcome to the Salinas Marina District’. 

Probably doesn’t matter much to the people who live here what it’s called, Alex thought to himself, but just nodded response to Blake’s explanation of the geopolitical landscape. 

 As they left the edges of the city of Salinas, Alex found himself once again gaping as the truck pulled onto the highway. The ocean glimmered no more than a hundred yards away and seem close enough that he could jump from the window and land in the surf. He had never seen the ocean before and the only lakes he had visited were small enough that he had been able to look all the way across and see the other side clearly. But here, the ocean stretched out in all direction, a vastness that almost defied comprehension. Alex found himself unable to resist smiling at the sight.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Blake chuckled as he took occasional glances out to sea. They were working their way down the coast, toward the glittering towers of Monterey. He turned his focus from the ocean to the city before them and said, “But then again, so is our destination.”

Alex pried his gaze from the blue and green waves of the Pacific. His eyes widened even more at the sight before him. Where Salinas had been a large city, Monterey was a true metropolis. More than a dozen massive towers shot up into the evening sky overlooking the ocean, all of them paneled in glass that gleamed with the now setting sun. Movement caught his eyes as a monorail sped past them alongside the highway, weaving a path across the vast stretches of highway and residential neighborhoods, into the maze of buildings at the center of the city. 

Suddenly the car stopped and Alex realized he hadn’t even noticed they had left the highway. Blake exited the vehicle and popped the trunk. Alex slowly climbed out of the passenger’s seat, his knees creaking and stiff from the ride. As he looked out toward the city, he found they had arrived at a large house on top of a hill overlooking the bay. The sun was down completely and the city gleamed even more brightly as a menagerie fluorescent lights sprang to life, like thousands of multicolored fireflies lighting up a field at dusk.

“C’mon inside, Alex. I’ve got some things to discuss and, regardless of what you want to do, tomorrow is going to be an early day,” Blake said, once again having silently snuck up to Alex’s side. Alex nodded without a word, as he had for the past hour, still taking in the sights and sounds of the city laid out before his eyes. He heard Blake leave, and then forced himself to follow. He followed his host across the driveway and got his first real look at Blake’s residence. 

It’s huge, was the only coherent thought that came to mind. As he studied the outside of the building more closely, Alex also noticed cameras at every conceivable entry point. Very secure, he wondered to himself. 

The house looked more like the villas advertised in the european travel brochures his mother used to look at. She had always dreamed of travelling there one day. The thought made Alex sad for a moment, but he pushed it away as quickly as it had come. He had learned over the last month not to dwell on the past too much.

As he entered the house through the wide, heavy oak doors, Alex realized that the outer facade only gave the impression of being one of many such houses spread through the hills. The inside of the house was another story. The first thing Alex noticed was the massive room directly adjacent to the front door. While most houses Alex had visited in his life had small living rooms to host people, this room, easily the size of Alex’s entire childhood home, held a variety of exercise equipment, a virtual reality weapons simulator, and a full size boxing ring. Several other men and one woman panted and stood, hands planted on hips, their exercises interrupted as Blake and Alex entered the house. The walls and ceiling were painted the same color as the jeep parked outside and the floor was made out of some type of enameled black stone.

“How big is this place?” Alex said aloud as he traced the lines of the house, gazing down the hallways that branched off to both sides. A staircase led up to the second story to his right.

“It seems to have that effect on most people and I like it that way. I want people to be off their guard when they come over,” Blake said, smiling and motioning for Alex to enter the training area. Alex tore his eyes away from his surroundings and regarded Blake’s companions. “I’d like you to meet some of my associates. Alex, meet Roderick Dempsey, Rory Jones, Takahashi Yoshito, and Karyn Sorenson. They’re all members of my team and executives of Lionheart Security.”

Alex nodded to each of them, not really sure what to say. Each was intimidating in their own way. Dempsey was burly, his tanned skin gleaming with sweat from his recently interrupted workout. His hair was cut almost to the scalp and both arms were covered in tattoo sleeves. He had closely cropped beard the color of redwood bark and a well composed, if not handsome, face. He also had a ready smile and looked like a more or less friendly person beneath the tattoos and muscles. 

Rory Jones was the ying to Dempsey’s yang. Where Dempsey was built like an ox, Jones was built like a cheetah. Lanky was the first word that came to Alex’s mind, but he knew that was as deceptive as the man’s ready smile and flashing white teeth. The long arms and legs were finely sinewed with muscles ready to explode into action. And where Dempsey’s face seemed brutish, Jones’s face was that of a prince. Hazel eyes and shoulder-length chestnut hair accompanied the gallant smile and Alex thought he looked like one of the old Knights of England he had studied in school. 

Alex soon found himself nodding to Takahashi Yoshito. Yoshito was what Alex had always pictured a ninja looking like, under all the black costuming and gear, though with a few modern twists. Yoshito’s upper body, like Dempsey’s, was covered in tattoos but his were fully colored and set off a panoply of hues on his skin. His jet black hair was cut much like Blake’s, almost the military’s high-and-tight look. Yoshito also sported a goatee that came down into a point about an inch beyond his chin. Alex judged all three men extremely dangerous and filed the information away in the back of his mind. 

At last he came to Karyn Sorenson, the sole female member of the group. While the three men had returned his gaze with steady, but not unfriendly, eyes, Karyn Sorenson’s ice blue eyes returned his gaze with a frosty look to match their color. While he had felt the other three studying him, Sorenson’s gaze felt as if she were sizing him up for an auction or for a fight, but Alex couldn’t figure out which. The pale blue eyes which regarded him so coldly were set into a face out of a Norse myth. Her oval face, full lips, and straight nose formed a stunning, if not beautiful, face. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, its platinum color even more blond than Alex’s own. He was certain he was terrified of this woman. He managed a final nod to her, but was not graced by one in return.

“Guys, this is Alex, Mike Samuelson’s son,” Blake said, introducing Alex to the three. Alex saw a slight tightening around their eyes and understood that they, like Blake and Rourke, must have known his father in another life. He also noticed Sorenson’s sharp glare soften, if only for a short moment. To Alex, Blake said, “C’mon with me upstairs. There are some things I need to know about you and some things you need to know about us.”

Alex bid the others goodnight, again silently as he still felt so out of place in the strange new environment. He followed Blake up the stairs. The staircase was unlike any Alex had seen before. It wound up in a circle and had a large pole planted in the floor of the first story and the ceiling, which Alex realized was actually the third story of the house.

“I designed this house to be defensible, Alex. Working in the security field makes you aware of just how unsecured most residences actually are. That pole can be used to get from either the second or third floor down to ground level in seconds, rather than minutes using a staircase. You probably noticed the cameras outside and, I assure you, there are plenty of other interesting things about this house,” Blake said as they ascended the stairs and then turned left down a hallway that led across the large recreation room below. 

“What sorts of ‘interesting things’?” Alex wondered aloud.

“I hope to show you soon, but that depends on your decision,” Blake said as he opened the door at the end of the hall and held so Alex could enter the next room.

It was an office, and he guessed it to be Blake’s, judging from the many photographs of him scattered across the room. The room looked nothing so much as a smaller version of the large front room on the first floor, save this was clearly Blake’s retreat from the rigors of running his business. Alex had figured out that Lionheart Security was likely some sort of bodyguard service that catered to high-end clientele. 

How else do you afford a place to live like this, Alex half-joked to himself. 

Looking around the room, Alex saw a simple, black desk sat in one corner. A glass paneled holographic computer blinked on as Blake entered the room The center of the room was dominated by a large, three-dimensional holographic projection system, the kind that could create full images that could be viewed from all angles. His father had spoken a few times of the wondrous technology available in the military, but the price tags equipment like this carried made them almost impossible for private citizens to own.

“Take a seat, Alex,” Blake said, motioning at a chair placed before the desk. “How are you feeling?”

Alex was caught off guard even as he took the offered seat. Did he ask me to take a bus out here and drive up to his maximum security mansion, just to find out if I’m feeling alright, Alex asked himself with a sour feeling. Then he forced himself to relax and let the unpleasant thought slip away.  No, he’s just breaking the ice.

“I’m doing alright, given the circumstances,” Alex said as the right corner of his mouth twitched up in a half smile. “But I’m still confused about what I’m doing here.” 

Alex still felt uncomfortable speaking casually to Blake and avoided addressing him directly at all unless absolutely necessary. After all, he didn’t really know the man all that well, and didn’t want to be taken advantage of just because Blake had been a friend of Alex’s father.

“Yes, I’ve had to be discreet about things, mostly because what I’m hoping you’ll agree to is dangerous and still classified above top secret by most everyone in the Territorial government,” Blake said, his face a passive mask and his voice dead serious. “Have you ever given any thought to entering the private security field?”

“To be honest, I hadn’t even thought about ever leaving my parents’ farm until a month ago. I came here to join the army, like my dad did when he was young,” Alex responded. 

Blake chuckled, saying, “The Marine Corps and the Army are two completely different animals, Alex. Lesson number one, never mistake one branch of the military for another. Their pride is injured easily.” Blake leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk. He put his hands together and steepled his fingers, as if saying a prayer. “That’s why I started Lionheart when your father and Randy Rourke and I left the Corps. I decided I wanted to fight for my country and make a decent living without being given up as machine gun fodder. Here, I’m the General and the President and I decide which wars we fight and I make sure my men and women get paid well for their service. I want you to come join us here, Alex. That is, assuming you have what it takes.” 

Alex thought about what Blake said. He knew his father had had bad memories of the Northern Wars. He would sometimes wake at night screaming and Alex had heard him often enough to know those were memories and nightmares he carried his entire life. He had heard his father complain often enough about suicide missions his platoon had been ordered to carry out, missions authorized by commanders who had little to no field experience, men trained in a classroom, not the theatre of war.

You finally get some peaceful rest now, Dad, he thought with a moment of bitter happiness. Maybe what Blake offered was a way out of what his father had experienced.

“I have a question before I decide,” Alex said cautiously, but Blake simply nodded and smiled a bit. “What exactly do I need to do to prove I have what it takes?”

“Basic Training for our Private Security Recruitment Program starts tomorrow. If you want to try for a spot at Lionheart, you’ll have to make it through Basic first,” Blake responded quickly. Alex thought he saw a glint in Blake’s eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. “It lasts about four weeks. After the first week, you’ll be joined by a second group of recruits who’ve made it through the initial tests, and when you’ve all been evaluated, myself and the rest of the recruitment staffs from the various firms come to select and bid on recruits. Then the real fun begins.” 

Blake’s smile broadened and became almost predatory, like a bear looking down at a fish in the water about to be gutted. Alex wasn’t sure he was altogether comfortable with his place in that particular metaphor.

“The real fun?” Alex asked, more confused about everything than he had been riding in on the bus.

“Trust me, you’ll do fine if you keep your eyes sharp and your ears open. I’ll have Captain Yoshito drive you down to the marshaling yards tomorrow morning, 0600 hours,” Blake said, still smiling. “Unless of course you’d like to try your hand at being a civilian working at age 16.”

Hours later, Alex lay on the small bed Blake had let him use for the night. The room was a small guest room on the second floor with a window overlooking the bay. The lights of the city twinkled more brightly than any of the stars Alex used to look up at at night on the farm. He sighed, still not convinced he was doing the right thing, but at a loss for any other options. He fingered the key to the briefcase, strung on a necklace around his neck, remembering the images of his father in uniform, Blake and Rourke standing next to him.

“I’ll make you proud, Dad. That’s a promise,” he whispered as he drifted into a deep sleep.

Next Chapter: Ch. 6 - Basic Training