Mako (The Mako Saga: Book 1) (17 page)

“Very nice,” Reiser observed, tracing a finger across the front right wheel well. “Did you do the restoration work yourself?”

“I had help with the major stuff, but yeah,” Lee said proudly. “This jeep originally belonged to my dad. He drove it off the lot brand-new when I was a kid, so what little I do know about mechanics, I actually learned right here.”

“Why’d he get rid of it?” Reiser asked, drawing a shrug from Lee.

“He and my Mom decided to scale back to one vehicle once they’d both retired. Gas prices ain’t gettin’ any cheaper, ya know? Anyway, this Jeep was his gift to me when I finished Doc school.”

“That’s good that you got to keep her in the family,” Reiser said, climbing through the roll cage into the passenger seat. “I’ve gotta tell you, since arriving here I’ve really grown fond of a lot of your classic cars. They just don’t build them like this anymore.”

Though a little puzzled by the statement, given Jacksonville’s total lack of a vintage car culture, Lee brushed it aside and slipped into the driver’s seat.

Twenty minutes later, the Jeep pulled into the dirt parking lot of The Sandy Toe Bar & Grill, a small, rundown seafood diner located just beyond a trio of lavish beachside hotels on the strip. Pushing through the weathered wooden entrance, Lee and Reiser stepped into the main dining area, where they were immediately met with the low chatter of the early lunch crowd and the tangy scent of sizzling, blackened fish—Mahi, Lee guessed from the list of daily specials on the wall above the register.

“It’s a nice day outside,” Lee suggested, never one to pass on an ocean view. “You alright with the deck?”

“Sure,” Reiser replied.

Exiting through the back of the main dining area—past a pair of potted ferns and an old painting of a lighthouse at daybreak—the duo emerged on the rugged planks of the Sandy Toe’s massive, wraparound deck, where they were greeted by a young brunette server with deep, coppery skin, wearing jeans and a blue tank top.

“What’s up, Lee?” she smiled from behind the tiki bar, a pair of menus and napkin-wrapped plasticware already in hand. “How are the ribs?”

“Still a bit sore, Megan, but not bad,” he said, turning on his stool to gesture an introduction. “Dr. Reiser, meet Megan Kingsley. She owns this place, plus her husband runs the surf shop where I buy a lot of my gear.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” replied the doctor, nodding another bow. “And by the way, it’s just Jon.”

“Nice to meet you, Jon,” Megan responded in kind, the ends of her long, brown ponytail fluttering in the sea breeze behind her bronzed shoulder. “What can I get you guys to drink?”

“I’ll have a sweet tea with lemon, please,” Reiser announced in a near-giddy tone. “I never pass up a chance to have sweet tea when I’m down in the south,” he explained. “They’ve got it in California, but it just isn’t the same.”

“Ya know, I get that,” Lee said with a chuckle. “Water with lemon, Megan. Thanks.”

“No problem,” said the server. “Take a minute to look over the menu, and I’ll be back in a bit with those drinks.”

****

“So I’ve gotta ask,” Reiser began, squeezing the lemon into his tea once they’d ordered their meals. “On the final environment, why did you choose to steal the transport ship and rescue the refugees? I mean technically, your mission was simply to blow the orbital depot and get out in time for the fleet to extract you. Considering everything that was riding on the success of that mission, don’t you think that was a bit of a gamble?”

Lee tilted his head and took a swig of his water. “Well, there’s always the old cliché about ‘never leave a man behind’,” he noted, “and in this case, we’re talkin’ about nearly 300 civilian men, women, and children. But morality issues aside, up until that point every little detail of every mission was factored into the scoring outcome, and I just figured that, in keeping with the Auran principle of takin’ care of their own, that’s what we had to do, whether it was implied or not. If we’d simply blown the depot, gotten out, and left those people to die, it’s a pretty good bet there would’ve been consequences for that. Am I right?”

“Indeed you are,” Reiser agreed. “The dilemma you’re referring to is a built-in character parameter that we refer to as the Sygarious protocol, and in my humble opinion, it’s one of the single most critical elements of the game.”

“A morality test?” Lee guessed.

“That’s correct. Had you not made the decision that you did, the game would’ve advanced to a bonus level whereby your team would’ve been redeployed into the heart of Alystierian space for a final rescue mission that, by design, was quite literally written to be a no-win scenario.”

“Sorta like video game purgatory,” Lee concluded, a little surprised by the explanation. “I take it that’s what happened to the other team that made it to E-42? They ditched the prisoner ship in the name of wrappin’ the mission and got exiled to the bonus level where they couldn’t move on.”

Reiser’s lips drew tight, as if Lee’s deduction had somehow hit a nerve. “In a manner of speaking, yes,” he said curtly.

“Just out of curiosity, why would you write it that way?” Lee asked. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for authenticity and everything, but why not just let ‘em finish the game at that point? I mean, they’d come that far.”

Reiser considered this for a moment. “Well as you pointed out, that’s Aura,” he began. “When I set out to write this game, I didn’t want another cookie-cutter shooter or flight simulator. I wanted a game that took the very best elements of every genre in the business and wove them together with a highly intricate story about two polar-opposite civilizations that the players really could get engrossed in. That meant filling each step of the overall plot with these types of moral dilemmas whereby the players themselves are quite literally forced to evaluate each decision they make through the philosophical lens of the people they’re supposedly fighting for. I guess to nutshell it, I wanted Mako’s players to have to think about their role in this story as if they were actually there, rather than as impartial bystanders who are free to do whatever they want in the name of advancing to the next level of a mere game.”

“Wow,” Lee remarked, sloshing his straw through the ice in his water. “I always appreciated the fact that Mako was different from other games with respect to its depth of involvement, but hearin’ you talk about it that way… well, it’s pretty heavy.”

Reiser shrugged. “For a lot of very personal reasons, this story is extremely dear to me and in addition to making a game that played really smoothly, I wanted it to reflect that.”

“So has anyone else come close to finishing it?” Lee asked, trying not to sound overly vain.

Reiser’s lips tightened again. “Two other clans are hanging tough on E-39, but let’s just say they lack a lot of the…” he paused with a grin, “
creativity
of your group.”

Lee chuckled at his meaning.

Just as they neared the end of their drinks, Megan reemerged from the kitchen carrying two large, white plates—both all but overflowing with grill-marked fish, brightly colored vegetable toppings, and piping-hot steak fries.

“I have a favor to ask of you, Dr. Summerston,” Reiser began, draping his napkin over his lap and dabbing a smudge of tartar sauce on his grouper sandwich.

“Name it,” he said. “FYI, though… my students call me Dr. Summerston—most of ‘em anyway. To everybody else, it’s just Lee.”

“Lee, I’d like you and your team to fly back to San Diego with me and spend a few days consulting my staff for development on
Mako’s
follow-up.”

Lee’s eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”

“Extremely,” said Reiser, washing down a bite of his sandwich with another sip of his tea.

“All five of us?” Lee added, drawing a nod from his visitor.

“As you well know, when I designed
Mako Assault
, one of the main things I wanted to do was load as much detail possible into every facet of its play, thereby creating the ultimate ‘team sport’ setting where it’s virtually impossible for a single player to survive alone. Hence, separate MOS assignments for everyone. In the case of your group, that worked to perfection; so it makes sense that all of you have a say in the development of the franchise’s next installment because each of you brings a very different skill set to the table, and as such, a unique perspective as it pertains to that skill set’s place in the overall framework of the game.”

Lee was beside himself. He knew that by beating
Mako Assault
they’d earn some minor level of fame among the online gaming community, and he’d held out hope that the rumors about participating in a 2.0 beta test were true. But a full-fledged, onsite consulting job in California? No way.

Still, while the gamer in him salivated over the opportunity, the realist in him took pause.

“Listen, Dr. Reiser,” Lee began. “I’m honored—really, I am. The chance to do what you’re asking is… well, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“But?” Reiser noted, sensing a conflict.

“But I’ve barely been on faculty here at Layne for a year, and while—don’t get me wrong—I have no love for the gig, it’s all I have in the way of a stable income.” Lee slumped back on his stool and tossed his fork on the plate in front of him, visibly dejected. “If I take off this early in the semester, unannounced, it’s a good bet that this job—peanuts as it may be—won’t be waitin’ for me when I get back, and as much as I wish to god I could take you up on your offer, I just can’t afford to let that happen.”

Reiser leaned forward on his elbows and flashed a dismissive smile. “Oh I’m quite certain Layne will have no problem letting you go for a while,” he remarked. “As a matter of fact, I’d venture to guess that they’ll all but plead with you to do so.”

Lee shot him a confused look. “How do ya figure?”

“Because the academic world is no different from the corporate one in that there aren’t many issues that can’t be resolved, providing of course that there are enough zeroes attached to the solution. That’s why my company is ready to make a highly generous donation to the Layne history department in exchange for the chance to make use of your knowledge and expertise for developing our next product. As a matter of fact, I’m fairly sure it’s the biggest grant they’ve ever had in the school’s history.”

He had a point there, Lee thought. “Well, that settles it for me but a few of the others might still run into problems. I presume you have a similar plan for them as well?”

“Of course,” said the doctor. “Our legal team is in need of some outside help, which should pave the way for Mr. Baxter. To my knowledge, since Miss McKinsey and Mr. Lunley are self-employed, they should be free to come of their own accord, and as for Mr. Tucker,” Reiser paused. “Well, I assume he can use all the financial help he can get.”

Lee sat back on his stool and stared out into the vast oceanic abyss before him, now, for the first time, daring to let his mind run free with the possibilities, something he hadn’t done in a very, very long time.

“So what do you say, Lee?” Reiser posed. “Will you help us?”

Lee gave a thoughtful chuckle under his breath and sipped his water. “Honestly, Doc, part of me would’ve strongly considered leavin’ this job for the simple sake of havin’ something new to do. But since you’ve obviously got it covered, I guess I have no choice but to suck it up and come with you.”

“So it’s settled, then,” Reiser concluded.

“Yeah, but I’ll need a few days before we take off, if you don’t mind,” Lee added. “I need to coordinate with my graduate assistant on the lesson plans for while I’m away, and I’m sure the others will need time to shore up their situations as well. I’m scheduled to see them in Tallahassee this weekend, but I don’t see why they couldn’t make the drive here to meet up with us for the flight out.”

Reiser nodded. “I assumed as much, which is why I booked my suite at the hotel through the end of the week. My plane will be prepared to depart first thing Saturday morning.”

“Private jet?” Lee noted—impressed, though he probably shouldn’t have been. “Nice. We’ll be ready.”

“Outstanding,” Reiser said cheerfully, raising his tea glass to salute their agreement. “My personal assistant will be in touch with the details.”

“I really don’t know what to say,” Lee admitted, clinking his glass to the doctor’s. “This is an incredible opportunity, and I honestly can’t tell ya how thrilled I am to be onboard. So thank you.”

“Oh I can assure you, Lee, when all of this is over,” Reiser paused—his cheerful expression turning momentarily, and inexplicably, dark, “it is my devout hope that you and your team will have helped us far more than we could’ve ever hoped to help you. So for that,” he turned, “I say thank you, sir.”

****

Shortly thereafter, the Jeep found its way back to the gravel lot outside of the Layne performing arts center, where the two men said their goodbyes before Lee shuffled off for his final two classes of the day. Feeling the mild vibration in his pocket as he slid into the driver’s seat of his rental car, Reiser pulled the phone from his coat pocket and inspected the caller ID. With a slightly annoyed grumble, and having already dodged this particular caller four times in the last hour alone, he decided it best to take this one.

“Reiser,” he said reluctantly. “Yes sir, just now… no, on the contrary I thought it went quite well. He’s very impressive… no, I didn’t… because, the time wasn’t right yet, that’s why.” Reiser exhaled a frustrated sigh and tossed his cane into the back seat before slipping the key into the ignition. “I’m sorry, but I simply don’t agree with that assessment, and with all due respect,” he said, his voice growing stern, “that really doesn’t matter now, does it? The fact is, I’m on point for this project and therefore ultimately, it’s my decision what we do or do not tell them and when. Listen, I of all people understand the timetable we’re on, believe me, but you’re simply going to have to trust my judgment on this… soon,” he reassured the voice on the other end. “But for the time being, we remain patient and wait. Once they’re all together, then we’ll reassess, but not before. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the hotel. Just make sure everything is in order for Saturday, and I’ll see you at the airfield. Reiser out.”