Hostile Waters: The Veterans of the Psychic Wars, #1

By R Thomas McPherson

The Darkness is Coming 
 
The last hope for mankind is the underwater stronghold of Pacifica. Now a ship that is critical to Pacifica's future has gone missing. 
 
Captain Jay McNair has been given the task of finding that ship at any cost! 
 
Unseen forces conspire to impede his mission at every turn. 
 
The Seas of Pacifica have turned into  
Hostile Waters.

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Atlantic Industries
• Release date: Sep 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386434788

Book preview

Prologue: A letter home.

COMPUTER, BEGIN RECORDING.

This is a personal letter to Peggy Nash

24 Secure Heights Blvd.

New Phoenix,

Capital Sector

Planet Anteagan

Territories of the Wilson Corporation.

From: Jack Wilson, somewhere out on the rim of known space.

Date: 9 February 368 AE (After Earth)

Dear Peggy,

I thought I would send you a letter and thank you for the Christmas present. It arrived two days ago. It is a wonder that I got it at all. How did you know where to find me? Captain Reynolds will ensure you get this, so I don't have to be careful about what I say.

The leather-bound book is just beautiful. It must have cost you a fortune to have this made. I have always thought that a story should be in a book. It forfeits something when we read it on a computer screen. You must have remembered that about me, and I will treasure it always. I think that's why you are my favorite niece.

I would like to ask how the family is doing, but I don't know if you will get a chance to respond to this letter. I am sorry I left without saying Goodbye; that is how CEO Nash wanted it. It was a way for him to get me out of the office so that he could put his people in places of authority without much opposition.

I think you know about the fallout between your husband and me. I still think weapons research is a mistake. I'm not sure, but I think he is causing conflicts between other corporations so that he can sell weapons to both sides. Of course, I can't prove it, but I would boot him out of the office if I could. I am the only Wilson left; he knows I could use popular opinion to make that happen. I think I was getting too close, so the CEO sent me on to 'The New Earth' project. Well, I'll stop talking about this. It’s old news, and I don't want to upset you.

Speaking of 'The New Earth' project, I've been to thirty-seven-star systems in the last six months; I have seen some truly remarkable things. An asteroid belt so thick it had an atmosphere and life. It was a moss of some type and lived in a thin layer of gas. We got a sample of it; the scientists think it might be helpful in terra-forming planets. Who knows? We only found two systems that had inhabitable planets. One was barren rock, but it had unusual plants. I now know what a cactus must have been like back on Earth. The world has plenty of water, but it is all underground. It has little in the way of minerals, so it is of little use.

The other planet was a water planet. I went from one extreme to the other. As Charley Smith (my assistant) has named it, Pacifica has the loveliest islands. Thousands of them dot the surface of the planet. I'm sending you a complete report along with this letter. Charley has the most exciting plans. He wants to turn it into a resort planet.

Our survey shows abundant mineral resources, but it is all underwater. I was most impressed with Charley's work. He wants to put mining and research stations underwater. This is something that we have never attempted before. However, after reading his report, I think it would be a fantastic idea. He has thought of everything, including giving the research stations complete data banks. Art, science, music, and literature, so when the Board of Directors shows up to inspect the facilities, they won't be fidgety during the long decompression time.

The resorts won't know what is happening under the sea with very little above the water. Get this: he wants to let other corporations establish resorts on the planet to promote peace.

I sent his report to your husband, the CEO, with my recommendation. I denounced it as a bad idea; that way, at least CEO Nash would look at it without dismissing it out of hand. While he is a very cunning businessman, we can still manipulate him.

That brings me to a favor I need to ask of you. I need you to have Charley Smith recalled to Anteagan at once. He is far too good an executive to be stuck with me. Please, I don't want my disfavor to reflect poorly on him. I think he could be a planetary executive or get on the Board of Directors one day. That will never happen if he is out here jumping the stars with me. As head of personnel for the Wilson Corporation, you can always say he is too good for me if anyone asks. With the current feelings among the Directors, I'm sure that answer will be good enough.

Captain Reynolds has my jump routes for the next six months, so if you need to contact me, he will know where I'm at. Look, I know this has been hard on you. After your dad died, I should have been there for you. I'm sorry about that. You need to know that I will be there for you now. If you have any problems, send Captain Reynolds to find me, and I'll jump home.

All my best,

Uncle Jack.

Chapter 1 Mission

HE LOOKED UP AT THE orange-yellow globe. The sight brought tears to his eyes. Emotion overwhelmed him when he stood on the white sandy beach with crystal blue waters and blue sky. The sun was hanging just above the horizon. It was near sunset. Whips of red-colored clouds slightly obstructed the sun. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen in his life.

If you keep staring at the sun, you'll go blind.

He looked down at the familiar face, the face of the woman he had loved since childhood. Caroline, he asked in confusion. Somehow, he knew she should not be in this place. Something in his mind told him this was not possible yet; here she was. Kneeling before her, he took her hands and looked longingly into her blue eyes. Why are you here?

I thought perhaps we could spend some time together, if only for a little while. That look in her eyes showed the sparkle that she reserved only for him. I wanted to make things right between us.

But . . .

It was as if he felt himself being pulled down a whirlpool. The world he was in disappeared as the chair vaulted upright, throwing him rather rudely into the world of reality. For a moment, he was unsure about where he was and why. Confusion almost turned to panic as he looked around the white room, no more extensive than a closet. He was strapped to the chair with probes attached to him. Then he remembered. This was a simulation room. Within a second of this realization, a door opened somewhere behind him.

How are we doing, Mr. McNair? An attractive young woman pulled a penlight out of her pocket and checked the dilation of his eyes.

The renewed grief and loss over his dead wife brought a lump to his throat. I'm fine, he said as a single tear began to drip from his eye. Jay McNair had lost his wife almost twelve years ago during the Sim Wars. As he thought about the terrorist attack that caused her death, anger welled up in him.

It's usual for the sunset simulation to bring on an emotional response, said the young lady as she disengaged the probes.

It was so real, whispered McNair, still fighting with the lump in his throat. He knew the woman in the room with him had no idea what he was talking about. He touched Caroline's hands, felt their warmth, and looked deep into her eyes one last time, but he still didn't get to say goodbye.

That's our guarantee, so how was it?

Sunny, he mechanically repeated the buzzword he had heard on everyone's lips since arriving in Kalleth. Sunny, now he knew what that meant. That's what it must have been like on the surface of Pacifica before the nuclear bombings took place. He tried to remember. Was that five or six hundred years ago? Only the research labs on the ocean floor survived the attack. After six hundred years, those labs turned into a thriving civilization. That civilization is ripping itself apart. An excellent example of this is Kalleth.

Kalleth is the capital city of the New Atlantic Corporation. It is the largest nation on the planet. To an outside observer, it might be a nation of strength. However, the view from the inside was quite another story. The city of Kalleth is plagued with racism, selfishness, corruption, and techno-devotion. A town where you can buy anything, and personal agendas abound. He hated this city. The thought gave him a tiny bit of satisfaction as he pulled on his jumpsuit.

Leaving the 'Any Place Simulation Center,’ he saw the clock in the plaza of the Commercial Zone. He still had plenty of time before he met with Admiral Shepard.

He looked at the plants growing around him to get his mind off the anger that was ever present in him. The New Atlantic Corporation tried to make the habitats as livable as possible. Plants were everywhere. Each type of plant produced a different gas. McNair didn't know what all of them did, but he did know that the plants with thick round leaves had helium. It was interesting to watch them float and sway as people passed by.

A standard plant would give off too much oxygen, which could be poisonous at the pressures under which they lived. Vines, bushes, and trees were placed everywhere you looked. They genetically engineered all of them to produce just what was needed.

A large opening was in the middle of each level so that people could look from one level to another. McNair stepped up to the railing and looked down. Two levels below him, on the 'ground deck,' was what they called 'The Life Tree.’ This tree would give off all the different gases needed to sustain life at this depth.

The genetic engineers had grafted several plants, each giving off a different gas, onto this one tree. It was sad. McNair had never seen one yet that looked healthy. This showed that man shouldn't live at the bottom of the sea. He looked up at the three levels above him and realized that none of the plants, on any level, looked genuinely healthy. Perhaps it was the lack of sunlight.

Anger still boiled just below the surface as McNair decided to head to the food court to get something to eat. He heard someone call his name as he passed into where they were serving the food. He turned to look and was confronted with a man of medium height, lean, trim, and dangerous-looking. He had a drawn face with high cheekbones and forehead. The hawk nose and piercing green eyes gave him the look of murderous hate.

Time seemed to slow as adrenaline pumped into his system. The neural interface at the right side of his head activated. In a fraction of a second, he was ready for combat. That was how they made him work. That's what they made him do. McNair reacted to the danger. He picked up a chair near him, and as it swung in the air, he realized his mistake. He was looking at his reflection in a plate glass window. It was too late to stop it; his reflexes, enhanced by technology, moved on to the menace. Now, McNair could do nothing but watch as the chair went through the window. Anger rushed through him again, but this time at himself. He had lost control. Now, like a wildfire, all he could do with his anger was let it burn itself out. Grabbing the leg of the now smashed chair, he attacked the speaker and the sensor that had made him go off in the first place.

This was a marketing ploy. The sensor would identify a person. The computer in the store would call up all purchases the person made. Then, they would suggest similar items that they had in stock. However, it usually worked best on women. In this case, it was a significant mistake.

McNair knocked the speaker from the wall, flattened it, and started working on the sensor as a security officer arrived. Sparks flew as McNair took a swing at the sensor. He was about to hit it again when he felt a shock stick in the middle of his back. As an electric current ran through his body, falling to the deck and jerking, McNair could do nothing. It seemed like the electric shock had gone on forever.

What the hell are you doing! said a voice from somewhere behind McNair. As the shock stick released him, McNair relaxed on the deck, aware that he was on top of the shattered glass. He slowly got to his hands and knees, listening to what was happening around him.

Regs state, NEVER MORE THAN THREE SECONDS! You could have killed him. Then where would you be if his family prosecuted you for being stupid. McNair looked up and saw what was happening. A Sergeant was yelling at an officer. The Sergeant was a slightly heavy man, and he had the look of an active man. Even behind his anger, McNair could tell he had a kind face and laughing eyes.

McNair then sat, holding himself up with one arm, watching the security officers. The one that stuck the shock stick in McNair's back was skinny and shorter than the Sergeant. He took the rebuke, but his eyes showed nothing but hate. You don't know what you did or whom you were messing with. That man is a Techno. The Sergeant pointed at McNair. He could break you in half before you knew it was happening. You stupid fool.

He doesn't look so dangerous to me.

Then you are a bigger dimwit than I thought. The Sergeant pointed at the gathering crowd. Now get your ass over there and do something useful, like crowd control.

You haven't heard the last of this, said the skinny security officer as he stomped off.

I bet I haven't, said the Sergeant. He turned his attention to McNair and slowly walked over, making no sudden moves. He said, in even soft tones, Are you okay?

Yeah, I'm all right. McNair had not expected this kind of treatment from the Sergeant.

He came close and squatted down by McNair. Would you mind telling me what set you off? The man in front of him knew quite a lot about Techno’s.

I'm embarrassed to say that I startled myself. McNair started to get up, and the Sergeant offered his hand.

Don't worry about it. However, I do need to take you in, he said as he helped McNair off the deck. We will keep you until we can assess the damage. Once you pay, you can go. A look of worry crossed his face. You can pay for it, can't you?

Yes, I can. McNair could see the relief in the face of the Sergeant.

Not that I could stop you, but are you going to come quietly, or do I need to put restraints on you?

No, I'll come along with no trouble. McNair had never had an encounter like this from Security. They moved off in the direction of the security office. The Sergeant had shown him respect and trust. What's your name, Sergeant?

Kelly O’Toole, and yours?

Captain Jay McNair. He got a look of surprise from O’Toole, then a laugh. McNair's displeasure must have shown on his face.

I'm sorry, Captain. Your name is not funny. What is funny is that Thompson not only decided to mess with a Techno but the most dangerous Techno of all.

McNair knew about his reputation, so he could understand why O’Toole could find this funny. Yeah, what is the deal with the kid?

Thompson? said O’Toole with disgust. His daddy is some mid-level executive. Every time I jump him about stupid things, his daddy lands on my neck. I can't get rid of the kid because his dad wouldn't let me. The boy is a screw-up from day one.

I'm sorry to hear that, said McNair. He was starting to like the Sergeant.

Don't be. I figure that one day, he will mess up so badly that even his dad cannot get him out of trouble. I hope that I'm nowhere around when it happens.

McNair wanted to change the subject. He would talk to Admiral Shepard about this situation, so O’Toole just got his wish. How is it that you know so much about Techno’s?

My dad lost his life in the Sim Wars. He fell at Hollister.

I'm sorry to hear that. McNair regretted asking the question. He didn't wish to open old wounds. Things like this made him remember that others also lost a great deal in that war.

Don’t be. My daddy was a hero to me and received the Corporate Cluster with Honors.

McNair was impressed. The Corporate Cluster with Honors was the highest citation given by New Atlantic. As one of the most highly decorated officers to come out of that war, he didn't even have one of them, and they gave out only a handful during the entire forty years of the Sim Wars. Wow, your father must have been an extraordinary man.

They had arrived at the security office. Thank you. He was. I'm going to have to put you in a cell. Is there anyone you want me to contact? To let them know where you are? He led McNair to the back of the office where the holding cells were.

Yeah, could you please contact Admiral Shepard's office and let him know I'm going to be late for the meeting.

O’Toole opened the cell door and let McNair in. It was then he comprehended what McNair said. At first, there was a look of terror on his face, then it turned to surprise, and he laughed again. McNair smiled because, this time, he knew what was so funny. When he stopped laughing, O’Toole said, If that's the case, I can let you go if you promise to come back when you're done. We will have the damages by then, and I wouldn't want to hold State business.

No, said McNair as he pulled the cell door closed. I wouldn't want you to get into any trouble. You do your job.

Yes, Sir, Captain McNair. O’Toole gave a salute and left.

McNair looked around. All the other cells were empty; he was the only inmate. I hate this city, said McNair to the walls. Why did I even come? but McNair already knew the answer to that question. He sat on the bunk and put his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. It was because Shepard asked him to come.

If anyone else but the Admiral had contacted him, McNair would not have. Admiral Shepard was a good friend and commanding officer during the Sim Wars. Shepard was responsible for ending the war. Although he was a Techno (technologically enhanced), the populace still thought highly of him. That all by itself showed what a remarkable man he was. At the war’s end, they looked down on all Techno’s like second-class citizens.

With the Sim Wars over, it was only natural for Shepard to begin a new war, this one of words. He became the first real warrior-policy maker. His actions in battle and making peace won him a spot on the Board of Directors. This caused other nations to be cautious in their dealings with the New Atlantic Corporation. That was ten years ago. Now, Admiral Shepard is drifting toward the political scrap heap.

McNair was very grateful to the Admiral. After the war, Shepard put him in charge of hunting down all the Sims (simulated humans, genetically engineered) wanted for war crimes.

His clientele was international, and this gave him free passage anywhere in Pacifica. However, time moved on, and McNair had caught or killed most of the wanted Sims. It was a natural progression to become a bounty hunter. This occupation kept him and his crew in money. Still, with him being a Techno, McNair's clientele was happy to see him when needed but more delighted to see him gone once the job was done.

He wondered about that. Yes, the neural chip in his head did make him prone to violence, but only when he perceived danger and adrenaline was pumped into his system. In short, if you didn't threaten a Techno, no harm would come to you. Still, after the war, many Techno’s had problems adjusting to life. Like McNair’s current situation, violence would follow them, leaving them dead or in prison. A pang of guilt overcame McNair, as he had put more than a few Techno’s in jail. His mind didn't want to go there, so he looked for something else to think about.

He thought about the sunset simulation and knew he would never have a relationship like Caroline again. He thought he could have that with Lisa, his ship's engineer. She was undoubtedly willing enough, and she was a Techno. Yet, somehow, he seemed to think of the entire crew as family.

Caroline knew what had been done to him, and she proposed to him anyway. All the time they were together, she never raised her voice or gave him a reason to get angry. She was the perfect mate. When Caroline died, half his soul had been ripped away. So, why did she appear in the simulation? As he pondered the question, the answer became clear. She was still a part of him.

Savagely thrusting the thought away, he looked for something else to think about. It was strange, the things you thought of in jail. McNair thought it bizarre. Humanity created the Sims to serve them. When the Sims turned on their masters, men made Techno’s to fight the Sims. Now, they treated both of humanity's children like outcasts. He didn't want to think about that either.

Searching for something else, he thought about the trip into the city. From a distance, the Kalleth looked like nothing more than a large number of beer cans sitting on the ocean floor. The structures were mainly dependent on depth. On the high plains of the Atlantic Plate, the habitats could be any shape the design engineer wanted them to be. The pressure was not that great at one thousand meters from sky level. Below four thousand meters, the only habitats that could survive were domes.

Sky-level, what a strange word. As he pondered the word’s meaning, he realized that he had never seen the sky. The world depended upon it. They based their measurement on it, but McNair had never seen the sky. How strange it must have been for the 'Earth that Was,’ so many light-years away, to measure everything from sea level up.

O’Toole came back and saved McNair from his thoughts. I have a signed order to escort you to Admiral Shepard's office, he said as he unlocked the cell door. It has been confirmed, and your release has been authorized. O’Toole smiled, Must be nice, having an Admiral in your back pocket.

No, my friend, said McNair. You got that backward. The Admiral thinks it's a good idea to have ‘me’ in his back pocket. Both men laughed. If anyone else but McNair had said that, people would have thought it was an arrogant statement. However, McNair was no ordinary man. His actions during and after the war made him a hero worldwide. No state official anywhere under the sea was unaware of who Captain McNair was. Over the last ten years, most of them had some dealings with him at one point or another.

Thompson was coming in as they left the office. What's going on? You can't release him.

O’Toole was about to say something, but McNair stopped him by putting his hand on his arm. The two men looked at each other, and an understanding passed between them. McNair would handle this. O’Toole nodded and kept quiet.

McNair turned to Thompson. I'm sorry, who are you? You think you are someone important?

Yeah, I'm security around here. You just broke the law, said Thompson with a half-smile, half-smirk.

McNair looked into the boyish face. It gave McNair the impression of a kid that had never grown up. Well, then you should arrest me.

Thompson looked back and forth between McNair and O’Toole, neither man giving him a sign as to what he should do. All right. Without another word, he sent a punch at McNair's face.

This pathetic little boy could never threaten McNair, but his reflexes were more than a match. He caught the punch and yanked Thompson's arm to the side. What are you going to do now?

Rage filled the young man's face. He lifted his knee, but again, McNair was faster. He grabbed the incoming body part above the kneecap with his free hand.

It is none of your business where I'm going. McNair could see the anger building. It was at this point that Thompson made his last mistake. With his free hand, he started to take a swing at McNair. Without any more thought, McNair pushed with both hands. As he flew back in the air, Thompson's swing missed McNair's face by several centimeters. He hit the deck and slid for another five meters. He would have gone a few meters more, but the wall stopped him. Thompson was out cold.

O’Toole had one hand on the wall, doubled over laughing. McNair could see why this was so funny. O’Toole must have wanted to do something like that for a while now. As he stood, he was holding his side. Captain, you are one class act. I will get nine kinds of hell for this, but it will be worth it all. He was still chuckling as he said, Shall we go?

What about the kid? said McNair, pointing to Thompson.

Leave him. I saw him attack you with no cause. He got what he deserved.

The two men walked in silence, except for the outbreak of giggles from O’Toole. It wasn't until they were in front of Shepard's office that he spoke again. Well, Captain, it has been an honor to meet you, sir. He stuck out his hand, and McNair took it.

And it has been a pleasure to meet you. O’Toole turned and walked away. Entering the offices, the Admiral's assistant, Sera, told him to go right in. This told him two things. First, this was not going to be a typical assignment. Next, McNair was not going to like whatever it was.

He entered the office and looked around. It was like the office of almost all of the corporation's executives. It's small but not cramped. A desk and three chairs. They had only what they needed and no more. The corporation didn't want the shareholders to think they were wasting money. McNair knew that this was all an illusion. A fully stocked bar would pop out from behind the panels at the press of a button. A video screen covered the room's opposite wall.

At the moment, that screen was in use. Shepard was on a video call with CEO Taller of the New Atlantic Corporation. Yes, he just arrived. I'll get back to you with his answer. Shepard out. Now McNair knew that he was not going to like this assignment. Shepard had a look of anger on his face. Damn, son. Can't you stay out of trouble? Shepard's look of rage melted and was replaced with a smile. Jay, come in, my boy, said Shepard as he got up and extended his hand.

Hello, Admiral, said McNair as he took his hand. It's been a long time. Both men seated themselves. Shepard was mighty physically but had spent too many years behind a desk. The neural interface at his right temple was slightly larger than McNair's. His gray hair was the only true mark of his age. He was pushing sixty but had the look of a man of forty-five. I don't like coming here, so what was so important that you felt it necessary to bring me to this place, McNair said the last word with such disgust that misunderstanding his feelings about Kalleth was impossible.

Shepard pretended not to notice and said, That's work. We have a little catching up to do. So, how have you been? I haven't seen you in almost two years, not since the 'Hot Vent Crisis.'

The Hot Vent Crisis was nothing more than some kids demanding change in the New Atlantic Corporation. They threatened to explode a fusion bomb at the edge of the continental plate in the Veasmaru hot vents. They had called in Shepard to disarm the situation, and Shepard had called him. Personally, McNair had agreed with the kids. Nevertheless, the money was right, so he went in and found there was no bomb. That was one of the easiest jobs you ever gave me.

Don't give me that, said Shepard with a grin. You were sweating stones with the rest of us.

What was that kids name?

Isar Marlen. He works for me now.

What? asked McNair. I can't believe you did that. Why? How did you do that?

Well, think about it. With no military training, that kid commandeered a heavily guarded perimeter post and made us believe he had a nuclear device. That sounds like an excellent covert operations man to me. Moreover, he got twenty other kids to go along with the idea. He is a natural leader.

That explains why but not how.

Shepard sat back in his chair. A look came over his face that McNair recognized. The Admiral was carefully considering his choices. "Jay, what I'm about to tell you is from one friend to another. The reply I gave you answered neither why nor