Mako (The Mako Saga: Book 1) (34 page)

“There’s someone else who wishes to speak with you before we adjourn,” he added, punching a quick command into his podium as the aide ascended back up the steps.

Not sure who he could mean, Lee watched as the viewscreen ahead flickered once to display the ASC seal before being replaced by the image of a light-skinned man in his late 40s, sitting behind an exquisite cherry oak desk.

With slender shoulders, slightly graying hair, and striking blue eyes that Lee found oddly familiar—though he couldn’t put a finger on why—the man leaned forward in his wing-backed leather chair, adjusted his golden tie, and offered a cordial smile.

“Hello,” said President Richard Wylon, the wrinkles in his face becoming slightly more pronounced as he spoke. “On behalf of the people of Aura, I’d like to welcome you to our home and thank you for agreeing to participate in this program. As I understand it from Dr. Reiser’s report, your people have no knowledge of life in other worlds, so I can only imagine the state of confusion that you’re probably in right now. It’s a big enough revelation to find out that you’re not alone in the universe, but it’s something else entirely to leave your home and travel thousands of light years away from everything you thought you knew to help a people whose problems have nothing to do with you. Therefore, the fact that you’re sitting in those chairs and agreeing to take part in this project is both an honor to our people, and a testament to the character of yours. Again,” Wylon stressed, “I thank you for that. Take care of yourselves out there and good luck with your training. Speaking from experience, having served under the admiral myself, I can assure you that they don’t come any better than the crew of the Praetorian or her commander. You’re in good hands. In closing, my apologies for having to relay our gratitude in such an informal manner as this, though let’s hope the next time we meet, it’s here on Aura to celebrate the successful outcome of your mission. Until then, godspeed and good luck.”

Resuming his position behind the podium as the viewscreen went to black, Katahl signaled that now was the time for questions, and Link quickly obliged.

“Um, right,” he stuttered. “Would you guys mind explaining a little more about how this super-suit thingy works? Also, if you could keep the whole scientific mumbo-jumbo stuff to a minimum, that’d be awesome. Thanks.”

“Doctor, I believe that’s your area; so I’ll hand off to you,” Katahl said, yielding the podium to Reiser, who hobbled up to it on his cane.

“The human brain is much like the command center of a ship,” the doctor explained. “Its primary job is to process information and send out instructions to the various parts of the body, which then carry out those tasks. Once conceived, these instructions travel as signals down the spine and into the nervous system to stimulate whichever extremities are to be used. So if I decide to pick up this pen,” he said, demonstrating with the silver ballpoint on the podium, “my mind processes the desired task, then relays that task—via signals from the brain—to my arm and hand which, in turn reaches out and picks up the pen.” Holding the object out for everyone to see, Reiser placed it back down onto the stand. “But what would happen if I sustained a spinal injury that left me as a quadriplegic? Does the fact that my arms no longer work mean that I’ve suddenly forgotten how to pick up the pen?” He looked around the room. “Of course not. I can no longer pick up the pen because that connection, between the brain and the body, has been severed. But what if it could be recreated artificially? That is the theory behind Mimic technology, that we can create this sort of… artificial bypass, capable of taking those same signals and translating them, through an M-suit, into the same physical action that the brain intended, but at an efficiency rate that would normally take the body months, or even years to develop on its own.”

Unconvinced, Ryan folded his arms over his chest and slumped back into his seat.

“Listen, Doc,” the captain groaned. “I don’t mean to play the cynic here, but using this technology to help someone pick up office supplies is one thing. Using it to help someone pilot a fighter, that’s a little different, don’t you think?”

“Not necessarily,” said Reiser. “True, flying a fighter takes a lot more skill than walking down the street, but just like any computer, it’s all about processing power. If the suit’s technology is strong enough to interpret the more complex signals from the brain—like the ones needed to pilot an SF-11 for instance—then there’s no reason why it shouldn’t be possible. Still, I maintain that the toughest part is teaching the brain how to process the information, not training the body what to do with it. Based on what I saw back on Earth, which you can read in my report, this group has that, and then some.”

Still not confident in Reiser’s theory, but satisfied to let things play out on their own, Ryan elected to leave it there for now.

“I’ve got a question,” Danny added. “Let’s just assume, for the sake of this discussion, that these suits can do everything that you think they can. What happens if one of your guys finds himself in the middle of a firefight and his suit glitches out? He’d be screwed, right?”

“That’s where the gene therapy comes in,” Reiser explained. “Are you familiar with muscle memory?”

“Sure,” Danny nodded. “It’s when your muscles automatically remember how to do something after they’ve been trained to do it over, and over, and over again. So what?”

“So what if we could give your muscles a photographic memory?” Reiser continued. “What if instead of taking years to become a master martial artist, you could do it in weeks?”

Danny thinned his lips.

“That’s what will happen here,” said the doctor. “Auran medical science has perfected a gene therapy that does exactly that, and it’s actually quite common in our world, particularly among athletes and musicians. The procedure is very simple—involving only a minor drug treatment—and it’ll accelerate your body’s ability to recall these skills as they’re learned through the M-suit. After that, it becomes a matter of weaning you off the artificial assistance. Granted, some of you will pick up certain skills faster than others, based solely on natural ability; but if my projections hold up, all of you should be operating completely on your own by the time you advance to the FTX. That’s the hope, anyway.”

Mac gave Lee another jab. “Not gonna lie,” she said with a grin. “I’m pretty proud of that training wheels analogy right about now.”

Lee nodded in agreement.

“On the matter of equipment…” Hamish shifted the conversation. “I’d very much like to have the opportunity to get my hands dirty inside a few of yar engines. Will I have the chance to do that, then? And if so, which engines? Oh,” he added, “and will I get to blow anything up?”

“Yes and yes, Mr. Lunley,” Noll replied from across the aisle. “I’ll let the Chief handle the engineering questions, but in response to your second inquiry, you will be trained in the use of explosives, yes. You’ll see everything from Class 1 micro explosives for doors and locks to Class 5 explosives for building demolition.”

Visibly happy with the answer, Hamish leaned back in his chair and waited for the next question.

“Admiral Katahl,” Mac asked. “You mentioned something earlier about some sort of security leak? I don’t mean to get into you guys’ business, but what’s that all about?”

Katahl’s face flashed with disgust. “Shortly before the launch of the Milky Way expedition,” he said, “the Alystierian High Chancellor issued a proclamation. In a nutshell, it said that anyone wishing to defect from Aura would be allowed safe passage into Alystierian space and granted amnesty, even if they were military personnel. It was obviously a tactic to divide allegiances around the fleet, and while it had virtually no effect in the early going, as the war dragged on, more and more people have begun to reconsider his offer. Needless to say, with a project of this importance, we simply can’t afford to take any chances with its secrecy. That means keeping the circle of people who know of its existence close and tight.”

Feeling the mood of the room suddenly spiral downward, Lee felt that a switch in conversation topic might be a good idea, and he had just the question to do it.

“How about aircraft?” he asked, trying not to sound too excited. “Which of those are we gonna learn?”

That was Ryan’s cue to take the podium.

“You’ll be familiarized with a number of different vessels currently in active service,” the captain began as the first of several aircraft technical specs appeared on the viewscreen behind him. “These will include both non-combat ships, such as our standard supply ships and freighters, as well as service vessels like the SB-40 Tuskan Starbomber and the SF-11 Thresher, currently the fleet’s standard fighter.”

Waiting in anticipation of the one he’d hoped to see, Lee’s eyes went wide with wonder at the last image on Ryan’s list.

“Finally, you’ll be among the first to climb behind the stick of the new SF-13 Mako, which just cleared the testing phase last week. You should consider yourselves lucky on that one too,” the captain grunted. “There are only a handful of these in the entire fleet and most people don’t even know they exist, much less get the chance to fly one.” Ryan then looked up from the podium to see Lee’s stare all but locked on the viewscreen’s current fighter spec. “I guess you two have already met after all.”

“You might say that, Captain,” Mac replied for her preoccupied friend. “Back home, that fighter was pretty much Lee’s bread and butter, if you know what I mean. Granted, all of this took place in a video game, but he could do things with that ship that nobody else could… and believe me, a lot of people tried.”

“That’s all fine and good,” Ryan smirked. “Just do yourself a favor and don’t short-shoot everything else in training to get to our new girl here, alright? I get it, she’s impressive, but you’ve got a long way to go yet before you’ll get to put your hands on her.”

“No worries, sir,” Lee said—his eyes still fixed on the monitor.

A moment passed without additional inquiries and Katahl returned to the podium to draw the briefing to a close.

“If there are no more questions, I’ll wrap this up, but before I do, I must tell you something that is only known by a handful of extremely high- ranking officials throughout the fleet, the people in this room, and the president himself.” The admiral took a deep, soulful breath in preparation for his next words. “Everyone in the ASC knows that Aura is losing ground in the Alystierian conflict, though most of our people assume that we’re still holding our own and while that’s ultimately still the case, the fact of the matter is that this war is going far worse for us than most know. I was briefed by the president this morning as to the latest projections; and with the loss at Phaxus last week, the numbers suggest that Alystierian forces could be on our doorstep in as little as 11 months if we can’t find a way to slow their advance. In short, we’re in dire need of boots on the ground and fighters in the air, and should that fail to happen, the president believes that surrender would be inevitable. So believe me, when you said earlier that time is of the essence, you couldn’t have known just how true that was, and while some of us may have our doubts about the viability of this project’s potential, the undeniable truth is that it could very well be the last shot we have at turning the tide of this war.”

“No pressure or anything,” Danny muttered to Lee.

“I realize that all of this is a lot to take in,” Katahl noted, “particularly considering where you were three weeks ago. However, there is one thing that you can rest assured of—regardless of where you came from, you’re members of this fleet now and as such, the job of myself and everyone aboard is to support both you, and this project, in every way possible. With that in mind, and for the purposes of record, the ASC brass have seen fit to create a brand new, specialized civilian unit around the members of this program—a unit which the five of you will now officially comprise. Gentlemen, and lady… Welcome to the 82
^nd
Logistical Squadron.”

Speechless at such a surprising—not to mention honorable—turn of events, Lee looked to the others, whose faces mirrored his own disbelief.

“They were called ‘The Renegades’ back on Earth,” Reiser added through a wry smile that one might’ve guessed to be pride.

“Renegades?” Katahl wondered aloud.

“Yes sir,” said Lee. “It’s kind of a school thing.”

Still unsure of exactly what the word meant, Katahl stepped forward to acknowledge the formation of their new unit.

“Very well then,” he concluded. “Renegades… you are dismissed.”

Chapter 18: Hard Knocks

The next morning, Lee’s eyes sprang open to a loud, persistent pounding through the door of their quarters.

“
Rise and shine, people
,” Noll shouted from the corridor outside.

“
Seriously?
” Link growled through his pillow. “I swear, whoever that is won’t have to go into combat to get croaked, because I’m gonna smoke him right now!”

Rolling out of his bunk onto the cold, metal floor, Lee yawned through a stretch on his way to the door.

“What’s goin’ on, sir?” he asked, stepping into the hall and rubbing his eyes. “I didn’t think we had to be up for another hour.”

“Slight change of plans,” said Noll. “We’ve gotta get you all situated with uniforms before you meet with Dr. Reiser, so collect your gear and meet me in the mess hall in 10 for morning chow.”

Lee opened his mouth for another question, but Noll turned for the lift before he could ask.

“Mess hall in 10, Summerston,” the sergeant major called back over his shoulder.

Stepping back into the room, Lee closed the door and ran a weary palm over his face as the others stirred awake around him.

“Alright, everybody up,” he said, reaching for the light switch. “It looks like they want us to hit the ground runnin,’ so time to hop to it.”

Shortly thereafter, having wolfed down a bagel and something that resembled processed turkey bacon, the group followed Noll to the Praetorian’s clothing outfitter on Deck-11, where they were fitted with standard-issue boots and blue fatigue service uniforms before proceeding on to Reiser’s lab.