Beginning

Prologue

The night was young and so were they. In a small, dark club lit by flashes of light, over two hundred young people enjoyed a Friday night. The alcohol was flowing, the music was good and the prospect of a bank holiday weekend ensured that the atmosphere was good.

Nobody noticed a young man standing in the corner observing the scene. He was just average,  nothing special at all. To almost everybody, he was a hole in the air.

To almost everybody.

Four young people kept looking over at him and then speaking amongst themselves as though having some sort of debate. As if they knew him from somewhere and were debating whether they liked him well enough to ask him to join them. In the end they reached a decision, one of the group, a young woman, detached and headed towards him.

As she headed towards him she reached into her pocket and pulled something out. It looked almost like a ladies compact, as though she was heading to the ladies to powder her nose. It almost worked.

At the very last moment the young man turned his head from the dance floor and headed towards the bar to refill his drink. As he turned his head. She accidentally caught his eye. Reacting instantly she smiled in a flirtatious manner that almost fooled him into relaxing again. Then he saw her clothes.

The club was boiling yet she and all her companions were wearing long sleeved jumpers and thick jeans. His brain went into overdrive and in less than a second arrived at a conclusion which terrified him. When he saw the item in her hand he knew that his time was up. Section 17 had found him.

In an instant he went from a relaxed young man into a hunted animal searching only for a way out of the trap he now found himself in. Looking around the club  he saw that the other three had vanished. They knew that he knew they were there.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. The girl had reached him. In her eyes he saw absolute calm, he could understand why. He was cornered, outnumbered and they were on their home planet. However they were in a packed club full of innocent civilians. And that balanced the playing field in his favour.

He had no problems killing everyone in that club to continue his mission.

She put her mouth to his ear and shouted to ensure that he could hear every word.

“This can go either the nice way or the nasty way. Either way your leaving with us.”

She held out the circular object and tried to place it in his hand. He smiled at her, a large grin that sent shivers down her spine. What happened next took mere seconds but they seemed to stretch into eternity.

With seemingly superhuman strength he grabbed her and threw her into a pillar, she slumped to the floor out of the fight. He looked quickly around, several people had noticed the disturbance and were heading away from him. He couldn’t allow that. He needed human shields if he were to have any chance of surviving.

He had no choice.

His human ‘skin’ erupted revealing his true persona underneath. When revealed he was tall, over two meters in height with two human type arms and four tentacles. His four legs were more than capable of kicking out with enough force to shatter a brick wall and his beak like mouth could easily crush the puny humans set before him.

His four tentacles lashed out and grabbed the closest four humans to him,- a group of four young women.

With the sudden arrival of an alien in their midst, the people in the club did what any group of people in their right mind would do and tried to flee. However, when they reached the exits they found the doors sealed shut and figures in black suits armed with what looked like automatic weapons standing guard outside. Mobile phones no longer received a signal. They were trapped in the club.

Back on the dance floor things had quickly gone from bad to worse. That the alien had removed his human disguise made the job of identifying him incredibly easy. It also made dealing with him impossible.

The four girls meant that going hand to hand was impossible. He could easily kill them all before any of the three remaining members of Section 17 were able to get to him. Also with the club in lockdown he would have ample time to ramp up a high body count before he was finally stopped.

Each member was armed of course, one pistol with one spare clip each. As usual for a capture mission the load out was a miniature tranquilliser dart. Although the technicians claimed that it would put out any species in the galaxy without actually killing them it was frowned upon to shoot humans. Still, they had no choice. Adopting the weaver firing position with both legs planted shoulder length apart holding the pistol at arms length each of the three remaining team members attempted to get the clear shot that would end the crisis.

They didn’t have to wait long.

With a scream erupting from his beak the alien flung one of the young women towards two of the members gaining a second where only one weapon was one him.

A finger tightened on the trigger almost  to the point where the bullet would begin its journey of microseconds from the barrel to the aliens skin. Unfortunately it took just a millisecond too long. 

The crowd, panicked at being unable to escape from the club poured down the steps erupting onto the dance floor. The floor was raised and the first row of the crowd tripped and feel. With the fear mentality driving them the rest of the crowd just kept going, crushing them underfoot.

The finger on the trigger paused. The shot was gone.

With a cry of triumph the alien three its hostages away and leapt into the mass of panicked youngsters where it began snapping necks with its tentacles leaving a trail of devastation in its wake as it headed for freedom up the stairs.

Suddenly, everything stopped.

The alien stopped heading for its supposed freedom.

The people stopped panicking, trying to escape.

Even the music stopped its pounding.

The only things moving were the four Section 17 agents.

The sound of a pair of hands coming together very slowly and repeatedly broke the spell as the alien, panicked youths and club melted away, turning a claustrophobic club into a slightly more claustrophobic room.

“Congratulations Ghost. 27 dead, numerous others injured and our cover blown. Ten out of ten for incompetence. Any defence?”

Ghost holstered his weapon and looked at his team. Wildcat was still just coming out of unconsciousness, Hellraiser and Death were just coming up off the floor and he had had a clear shot for almost a second and a half without taking it. All in all a pretty pathetic showing for section 17 agents. Even if they were a group of rookies.

“Sir, we were given a rushed briefing in the which the phrase nightclub wasn’t even mentioned, if it had been”

“Ah, was the poor ickle Ghost not given a proper briefing? Maybe I should have given you an hour to do your make-up? You were told that it was at a gathering of people somewhere in England …”

“Sir, given that its mid November we assumed it would be cold and”

“Were you interrupting me Ghost?”

“No sir.”

“Good, now get out of my sight. Get some lunch and then your and your team are going back in simulation until I am satisfied!”

“Yes sir.”

With their heads hung in shame Ghost and his team left the simulator in search of some food.

Chapter one

         Section 17 was set up in the 1960’s for the sole mission of defending Earth from non-earth based interference until such time as mankind was deemed able to deal with the fact that it wasn’t alone in the universe.

         Their mission still continues today.

It was a sombre group that sat at the dining table that lunchtime. Part of the reason was the food. The chef claimed it was spaghetti bolognaise, however he’d only heard the recipe by rough description and he was overcome with  a powerful desire to kill everyone who ate his cooking. Or so it seemed.

But the main reason for the gloom was that mornings simulation. The first one they had failed in all the time they had been at section 17. Even though they knew that the simulation had been set at such a level that even highly experienced teams had trouble with them, they still didn’t feel that it was an excuse.

“I’m telling you, it was just because we were give a lousy briefing. I mean from the info and time we were given to prepare we were sold short from the word go.” Stated Hellraiser, looking around for agreement.

Wildcat spoke up. “It was my fault, I was trying to act flirty to keep him quiet and containable I guess I need some practice.”

“Or maybe you just need to imagine it was Ghost and your performance would have been Oscar worthy.” Quipped Death.

“It was a pretty rushed briefing but we leapt to conclusions and acted quickly. To quickly. We made basic mistakes. I should have sent over Death, or equipped us with those suits that are designed for hot planets.” Ghost told the others. He was the leader of the team of four and as such all the blame for their failure fell on him. Or so he felt.

Before he reached a conclusion Death decided that enough was enough.

“Look Ghost, by the caterpillars armpit there was nothing you did that I, or Wildcat or Hellraiser would have done differently.”

Ghost smiled despite himself. It was bait, but good natured bait. He would rise to it. If he got too self reflective then he would lose focus. And he couldn’t do that.
“By the what? What did I tell you about worshipping false idols? Everyone knows the universe fell out of an earwigs bellybutton.”

At that the tension disappeared. This was an old argument. One as old as the team itself, and it would never be settled. Wildcat smiled to herself. Everything was back to normal. Or as normal as it got when your day job was convincing aliens to keep their hands, paws or tentacles off your planet.

The four of them had met on the first day of induction training. Each of them had decided to walk away from whatever family and friends they had possessed, whatever items they had possessed. Even their names had been left behind.

In exchange for this sacrifice they had each gained a place in Section 17. Performing a task that would never… could never be acknowledged.

The first thing each did was pick a new name then to pick a team. This happened very simply. All of them were placed in a large room and allowed to gravitate towards each other. The theory being that if the team picked each other they would be more likely to become an efficient force and able to work under pressure.

In theory.

By the time Wildcat caught up to Death and Ghost they were already arguing about whether the universe fell from the navel of an earwig or the armpit of a caterpillar. She had stepped in and negotiated the most temporary of truces, then Hellraiser had appeared and asked whether they had remembered their pills that morning.

From that humble beginning, a mighty oak did grow. Ghost, Death, Hellraiser and Wildcat were unstoppable as a team. Even from the first day, there was almost no problem that they couldn’t overcome using their combined talents, after three weeks, the instructors were forced to admit that they were almost ready for field work.

Which was when the real training started.

First came the introduction to Section 17’s suits. As a basic two legged two armed race humanity was hopelessly outclassed by some races in physical and others in mental capacity. The suits were supposed to give them an advantage. None of them would ever forget the first time that they each put on their own, custom made suit.

The suits were a tight fit, designed to increase performance by applying pressure to various areas. Each was made from a lightweight tough material that none of them had a hope of being able to pronounce but was supposed to be virtually indestructible. Armed with twin blades concealed in the arms, four rounds concealed in the hands they were trained to be formidable hand to hand fighters.

The suits boasted amazing audio and visual enhancement, including the ability to hear and see through walls, as well as personal radar, thermal and infrared vision, as well as the jewel in Section 17’s crown. The transmat.   

The ability to instantaneously move ones molecules from one place to another without having to go through all the tediousness of bus or train timetables. Naturally it had gone down well.

“Beam me up Scotty” Quipped a rather imaginative Death.

“Come on, you want something more original like four to beam up.” Complained a slightly more original Hellraiser.

“Boys.” Mutter Wildcat under her breath.

She was still trying to adjust to the change in her life, to the fact that everything that she had been since she was born was now gone. Even her name, the one thing that her parents had left her was gone forever. Of course none of the boys were having these thoughts. They were to busy being wowed by the new toys.

Fully equipped, they had been lead to weapons training. Here, Death had excelled himself. There was nothing that he couldn’t hit, even mastering weapons that were not designed for human hands with a minimum of fuss. Pretty soon everyone stopped betting against him in simulations as they almost always lost. Everyone apart from Ghost.

It wasn’t that Ghost was an amazing shot, he wasn’t. But his stealth ability was unparalleled. He could literally vanish, leaving nothing but a mocking laugh. And as he often told Death when he emerged victorious.

“You cant hit me, if you cant see me.”

An announcement startled Ghost back to the present.

“Would team 42 please come to the briefing room. Team 42 to the briefing room.”
 
They all jumped at that. Teams were only supposed to go to the briefing room when they were being sent on a mission. They were still at least two weeks away from being mission capable.

Bursting with curiosity and confusion, the team headed off towards the briefing room.

Chapter 3

“And I’m telling you their just not ready!”

“We don’t have a choice, we don’t have another team we can send. 24’s a man down and all other teams are out on deployment.”