Mako (The Mako Saga: Book 1) (31 page)

“Yeah, because families were obviously a top priority for these guys,” Mac grumbled, twirling a napkin around her finger.

Reiser reached for the pitcher to refill his water. “After three long years of intense political bickering, it was finally agreed that the shape of our society in a post-Beyonder world would ultimately be decided by the people themselves, via a comprehensive, global vote. In the end, the Traditionalists won by a pretty convincing margin.”

“I’m gonna step out on a limb here and guess that wasn’t good enough for Zier, though,” Hamish surmised with a thoughtful stare in his glass.

“That’s correct,” said the doctor. “Frustrated by what he perceived as a complete lack of budgetary support for the new military’s construction, as well as the amount of oversight and regulation which would restrict its usage, Zier denounced the final decision as ‘a reprehensible error in judgment, propagated by a handful of aging, feeble-minded bureaucrats hellbent on sacrificing the safety and security of the Auran people for the sake of personal gain and individual power.’ In that very same statement he also announced the IP’s immediate intentions to secede. With the new Auran Space Program well underway by then, a massive deep space reconnaissance program was launched to find a suitable world capable of supporting human life, where they could be free to build the kind of civilization they believed necessary. Two years later, that mission culminated in the discovery of a planet in a neighboring solar system that would ultimately prove to be their final destination. Once the new world was officially deemed viable, an expedition of nearly 85,000 citizens loyal to their cause departed Auran space, and the Alystierian Empire was born.”

“As fate would have it,” Noll said, sitting up straight and firing a smirk at the others, “it was their secession effort that ultimately led us to you people—in a roundabout way, anyway.”

Intrigued, Lee raised an eyebrow. “How do ya figure?”

Noll pursed his lips. “Zier and his people launched a total of 63 probes when they started the search for a new homeworld,” he explained. “Mind you, these probes were a lot less sophisticated than the ones we use now, with a lot shorter range. Most of them couldn’t go much further than three, maybe four systems out in a standard 18-month deployment. Anyway, by the time they left for Alystier, a grand total of 56 of those birds had actually come home. The rest were assumed either lost in transit or outright destroyed… that is, up until two and a half years ago.”

“Somehow one of those probes slipped its primary course directive and drifted into open space,” Reiser elaborated. “For almost 40 years it bounced from galaxy to galaxy and system to system, scanning every planet along the way for human sustainability… just as its mission specified. By our estimates, it passed by Earth sometime in the mid-70s.”

“What brought it home?” Mac asked—visibly astounded, like the others.

“All Auran probes are built with a fail-safe protocol that measures power output relative to distance,” said the doctor. “Once the probe detected that it had just enough power to get home, it disengaged all active search protocols and plotted a course back to Aura.”

“Only when it got there, the Alystierians who’d deployed it were long gone,” Noll added, flashing a hint of a smile. “So we took it upon ourselves to have a look at the data. It took Dr. Reiser here a solid three months to decrypt it, but once we were in, that’s when we learned of your world.”

“Who else knows?” Danny asked, steepling his hands as Reiser sat up straight to reply.

“Outside of this crew, the president, the fleet admiral, and a handful of high-ranking ASC brass…
no one
.”

“Hold up,” Link snorted. “You mean to tell me that in four decades of searching, your rinky-dink little probe only found one other world with humans on it? That’s it? Just us?”

“Yeah, apparently fate wasn’t in our corner on that one,” Noll said dryly, and Reiser shot him a look.

“Anyway,” the doctor went on. “After the Alystierian secession, we had very limited contact with Zier’s people—an understandable position given the resentment between our two sides. As both worlds began to venture deeper out into the stars, the occasional ship to ship encounter was obviously inevitable, though fortunately neither side had anything to gain from a conflict, so most of our dealings were short, granted, but civil nonetheless.”

“Translation: We’ve got our yard, you’ve got yars,” said Hamish. “Everybody stay on their own side of the fence, and there’ll be nay an issue.”

Reiser nodded. “Exactly. That shaky peace remained for the better part of 70 years, but… that all changed six years ago when a civilian science team stumbled upon Kendara.”

“The mine, right?” Mac asked.

“That’s correct,” said the doctor.

“What exactly is so important about this thing, anyway?” she continued. “I mean, we started hearing reports about it somewhere around E-19 in the game, but the story never really elaborated on it much, other than to say it had something to do with fuel.”

Reiser removed his glasses, placed them on the table, and rubbed his weary eyes.

“Beyonder technology ran on an unknown, mineral-based fuel source that we’ve since labeled Caldrasite,” he explained, “and by virtue of the fact that most of Auran tech is derived from those original templates, now so does ours. However until very recently, we could never get our technology to fully adapt to it because it’s such an incredibly potent power source. As a result, our scientists were forced to compensate by creating a formula that blended Caldrasite with our conventional fuel, thus deluding it to a point whereby our systems could handle the power boost. The downside to this process is that tech operating on the blend, while still effective, is nowhere nearly as efficient as it could be if it were capable of running off pure Caldrasite. For example, running on the blend this ship is capable of making the journey from Earth to Aura in two weeks. Were it powered on pure Caldrasite, that would be more like three days.”

“Wow, talk about an upgrade,” Mac murmured.

“In addition,” Reiser continued, “Caldrasite is a very rare commodity in this part of space. We’ve got just enough left on Aura to serve our needs for the time being, but nowhere near enough to sustain ourselves for the indefinite future.”

“I take it that’s what was found on Kendara?” Lee deduced, drawing a nod from Reiser.

“It was far and away the single richest find in the history of either of our worlds and with it, Aura had a source of energy that could power not only our ships, but our entire civilization almost indefinitely. After news of the Kendaran find reached Alystier, they demanded that we share it with them, but the mine was clearly in our space so they had no real claim. In the interests of maintaining the peace, President Wylon proposed a trade agreement that would’ve given them some access to the mine, but at far less capacity than their original demands had dictated. Needless to say, High Chancellor Zier decided in his infinite wisdom that his people should command the lion’s share of the mineral, and since they had no legal claim to make such a demand based on our existing treaty with them, they simply decided to take it. After diplomatic talks were officially called off, war was declared, and as you say, the rest is history.”

Lee sat back, in awe of what he’d just heard.

“Wait a second,” Danny grumbled. “Earlier when you talked about this mineral stuff…”

“Caldrasite.”

“Yeah, whatever. You said your tech operated on some kind of blend because it couldn’t handle the power… until very recently. If you guys have figured out how to use this stuff in its purest form, why not supercharge your fleet and go wipe the Alystierians off the map? I mean, if it’s as powerful as you say, they’d be no match for you, right?”

“Caldrasite is a very delicate substance,” Reiser explained. “It’s easily tainted and once that happens, it’s all but unusable. As such, the refinement process is extremely tedious and time consuming, and it would take the better part of a decade to prepare the amount needed to do what you suggest. Plus, every vessel in the fleet, from carriers to fighters, would need to be extensively modified to be able to handle such an augmented power supply, and in the case of the older ships, a retrofit of that size isn’t even possible. However… and very few people know this… the ASC science division, in partnership with my company, have developed a new strain of the mineral that, in conjunction with the right hardware, can be used at full-rich, without blending.”

“Along with the Mimic project and Earth, this is one of Aura’s most closely guarded secrets,” Noll said firmly. “No one—and I mean, no one—outside of the president and the admiral knows of this. Three months after we left Aura for your world, the ASC science division was in the process of finalizing plans for development on the first ever, full-rich, Caldrasite-powered craft…” He paused and looked straight at Lee. “A fighter.”

“The Mako,” Lee guessed—his pulse quickening.

“Correct,” said Noll. “According to the last report, the project has already reached the end of the prototype phase and is undergoing final tests now. If successful, the Mako could prove to be the launching platform for an all-new fleet that would be powered exclusively by this new technology. Then,” he concluded, looking back to Danny. “Then, we contemplate ‘wiping the map’ of Alystier.”

“Until then, we need more time,” Reiser added. “Time to refine the formula. Time to develop the technology. Time to mass-produce both and deploy them throughout the fleet. Time… The one thing we don’t have a lot of.”

“So that’s why you need us,” Link surmised. “You’ve got to find a way to replenish your numbers long enough for the new fleet to be commissioned.”

“That’s correct,” said Reiser. “We have the means to replenish our supply of ships as they get destroyed in the field, but we’re running out of boots on the ground. At the rate we’re losing, or so it was when we left for Earth, we simply can’t train soldiers fast enough to get them into the field with the proper skills they need to be effective.”

“Enter the Mimic Technology,” noted Lee.

“Precisely,” exclaimed Reiser. “If I can perfect the program, it should, theoretically, buy us the time we need to stay in the fight long enough to upgrade the fleet; and if that happens, this war will be over in weeks, if not days.”

“That’s just great,” Danny muttered to Link. “Experimental soldiers for an experimental fighter, powered by an experimental fuel. Could there possibly be any more straws to grasp at this point?”

Noll turned an agreeable eye to Danny, an exchange not lost on Lee.

“Sir, I take it that you don’t share the doctor’s optimism over the project’s potential?” he asked.

This earned a sigh from the sergeant major. “Dr. Summerston,” Noll began, draping a careless arm over the back of his chair. “I’ll be the first to admit that I’m no scientist. I’m a military man who, as you put it, was trained in the old school that believes there is no substitute for experience when it comes to making a good soldier. I’ve served in the Auran fleet for 27 years—the last five of which have been under Admiral Katahl himself on board the Praetorian, and while I fully realize that Aura simply has no other alternative at this point, you’ll excuse me for being a little skeptical that a recreational game can prepare men for war.” He gestured back to Danny. “How about you, Mr. Tucker? Could a video simulation prepare someone to track a serial killer, or be shot at in the line of duty?”

Danny shook his head, no, and Noll settled back into his seat, confident he’d made his point and visibly grateful that at least one of them understood it.

“Listen, far be it from me to tell you guys how to fight your war,” Link added, “and maybe this is a stupid question, but your people devised a weapon capable of wiping out an entire planet to end the occupation of your world, right?”

“That’s right,” Reiser responded, aware of where this was going.

“Well, excuse me if this is overly bold, but why not just nuke ‘em and be done with it? I mean, if these people are threatening your very existence, how does that make them any different from the aliens who invaded you all those years ago? Build another weapon, smuggle it onto Alystierian soil and detonate the damn thing—game over, man.”

Noll shook his head. “We could probably do that, but it’s not an option.”

“Why not?” Link argued, drawing a look of contempt from the sergeant major.

“Because like it or not, those people are our brothers and sisters,” Noll declared, “and to commit an act of virtual genocide against our own blood…” He winced. “Let me put it to you this way, I’ve taken my fair share of Alystierian lives on the battlefield and even I don’t want that on my conscience.”

Reiser wholeheartedly agreed. “You also can’t forget that while Alystierian culture revolves around the military, there are still tens of thousands of civilians on their world.” He stopped and looked to Lee. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but many years ago your country unleashed a weapon of mass destruction on a warring nation, and if I’m not mistaken, you never have again, correct?”

“No, that’s very much true,” Lee said somberly.

“Hey, don’t misunderstand me,” Link persisted. “I’m all for world peace and all that happy hippie horse crap—and believe it or not, I can totally respect the nobility of your stance on this. But just out of curiosity, what’s to stop them from pushing the button on you guys? Since that bomb was designed before they split for their own world, don’t they have access to the same plans?”

“Odds are that they do, but High Chancellor Zier would never allow that to happen,” Noll assured them.

“Yeah, you mentioned him earlier,” Mac pointed out. “Is that the same guy who led the Imperialist Party’s secession from Aura 80 years ago? How old is he now, anyway?”

“No, that was Clayton,” said the doctor. “He died about a decade ago, and according to Alystierian law, the chancellorship is passed to the commandant, the supreme head of their fleet which in this case, happened to be Zier’s son, Lucius.”

Hamish’s expression twisted. “Keeping it all in the family, huh?” he huffed. “I bloody well hate that kind of politics.”