The Veterans of the Psychic Wars

By R Thomas McPherson

The Veterans of the Psychic Wars is the first three installments of the adventures of Captain McNair. A reluctant hero that finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. His adventures take him through the breathtaking underwater world of Pacifica. Then into space, where he stepped into the middle of a galactic conflict. He will do what is necessary to protect his home, but at what cost? Can he do the impossible?

Find out in The Veterans of the Psychic Wars.

This is a 3-in-1 book that covers the first trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R Thomas McPherson
• Release date: Dec 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215326886

Book preview

Prologue: A letter home.

COMPUTER, BEGIN RECORDING.

This is a personal letter to Peggy Nash

24 Secure Heights Blvd.

New Phoenix, 56434-2367

Capital Sector

Planet Antigen

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 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 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 the 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 under the water. 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 show 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, but he wants to let other corporations be able to 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 Antigen 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 for 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 site 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 over 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 the 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.

How are we doing, Mr. McNair? A rather 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 gasses 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 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 Technos.

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 damages. 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 Technos?

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 Technos 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 Technos 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 Technos 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 Technos 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 whom 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 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. Smallish 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. 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 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 how. I think you deserve to know my reasons. Almost forty years ago, the finest minds from all over the world came here to work on the Techno Project. They all returned with full data packs so that all nations could produce Techno to fight the Sims.

Sir, with respect, that's all old history.

No. Since the war’s end, all nations have been building Techno armies, as have we. This planet is heading for an 'All-out War.’ How do I get them to join the military? It was a simple matter because the Head of the Legal Department knows what I have just told you. I convinced him to drop the charges if they all joined

They all agreed to become Techno’s? said McNair. He found it hard to conceive of someone choosing to be an outcast of society. He had decided while the war was still raging; Technos was man’s hero at the time. Now it was a thankless job with no real reason. However, if what Shepard was saying was true . . .

They had no choice, either that or prison.

Is that why you called me here? You want me to join up with you?

No, I can't let you join me, said Shepard with a wave of his hand to dismiss the idea. Even if I wanted to, you are too well known. If you were to disappear, it might just start the war I'm trying to prevent.

Then just why am I here? If all of this was the prelude to the mission, McNair was sure that he would not like it. Yet, somehow, he knew that whatever it was, he would do it simply because Shepard asked.

You're here to find a ship.

McNair waited for more, but when Shepard said nothing, he said, That tells me nothing.

Okay, But I want you to hear the whole thing before you decide. Can you at least promise me that much?

I promise I will listen.

Shepard reached into his drawer, pulled out a small, one-centimeter cube, and placed it on the desk. Do you know what that is?

McNair picked up the cube and examined it. The green liquid inside was almost fluorescent. Small bits of sediment in the bottom moved as he shifted the cube to look at it from different angles. I don't have a clue."

That is liquid methane-hydrate. There's enough in that container to fill this room with combustible gas. We found a huge deposit, about 250 cubic kilometers away from the Dragon's mouth."

The implication of what Shepard was saying was not lost on McNair. If true, this resource would power the generators of the planet for the next century. The New Atlantic Corporation wanted to control this commodity. However, The Dragon's mouth was a dangerous place. The Dragon was a deep rip in the ocean floor. Its actual depth was unknown. In most areas, it reached 8,000 meters deep. It was one of the few uninhabitable places on Pacifica. What was known as 'The Dragon's Mouth' was at the northern end of the rip. It was in a disputed area, with 'The Rubber Federation' on the east and the 'Sim Reservation' on the west. North of that was the southern border of the New Atlantic. So, what has this got to do with your missing ship?

"We don't know. Here's how it falls out. Three weeks ago, we got a distress call from the mining operation extracting the methane hydrate. An unknown force was attacking them. The transmission died before they could give us any information. I sent in a team, and they found nothing. They found no bodies, no signs of a struggle, nothing. Forty-six hours ago, a ship 'Persephoney's Pride' went missing as they passed the area.

Persephoney? That's a Sim City. Do you mean to tell me I'm going looking for a boatload of Sims? I kill Sims, but I don't save them. McNair now knew why the Admiral was hesitant to explain the mission.

Get your backside down, Captain. Shepard's voice was cold and hard. Had anyone else used that tone with McNair, he would have taken it as a threat. You promised to hear me out. Shepard paused a moment to let the tension drain from the conversation. When McNair said nothing, the Admiral continued. Good. It has become apparent that other nations have become aware of the mining operation. The Sims don’t have the means to defend themselves. We made sure of that at the end of the war.

Stop, said McNair. Anger made him a little bolder than he would generally have been with Shepard. I have to know something. This has been bothering me for the last ten years. Why did you broker peace with the Sims?

Shepard sat back in his chair and looked up. It was as if he were looking at some video that only he could see. I was there when our forces retook the city of Hollister. The bones of the dead littered the ocean's floor for a kilometer in every direction. None of the city's two hundred thousand inhabitants were left alive. It still haunts my dreams.

Doesn't that make your circuits burn? Don't you want to kill every last one of them? The Hollister Holocaust, as the news named it. It was the last city where the Sims had control. This was the turning point in the war. McNair was on a mission in the Nesher Valley at the time. It was a strategic operation.

The Nesher Valley had several industrial complexes, which fed the Sims war machine. Twenty thousand men went in to take the valley from the Sims. Once the area was secured, their orders were to hold the position. McNair didn’t know at the time that it was a ploy to retake Hollister. The Admiral knew the Sims would send everything they had to retake the complexes. Without them, they couldn't continue to fight. This left Hollester open for them to attack, but the price was high. Only two hundred twelve men left the Nesher Valley.

They thought that the mission would end the war. They were wrong. Once the Sims lost their main base of operation, they turned to a battle of terrorism. These terrorist attacks had killed friends McNair grew up with and his wife. He was not there to protect her. The Sims had taken the one true love of his life, and all he could do now was hate them for what they did.

Yes, it does, even to this day. Still, we could have carried on the fighting, but how many more good boys would have died? They would have bombed how many more innocents? What would be the final death toll? No, I created peace. Not for the dead; I can never bring them back. I did it for a living. Shepard paused and looked into McNair's eyes. I remember every face under my command, every name. Not because I want to, but because they made me that way.

As Shepard spoke, anger drained away from McNair. Not because he hated the Sims any less but for the feelings, he shared with the older man in front of him. He felt that he understood Shepard a lot better now. Shepard was one of the first Techno ever created. He was meant to be an information gathering and infiltration unit. With nanobots concealing his life signs, and a hard drive that recorded everything permanently in his brain, he was the best spy they could have produced. After becoming a Techno, McNair was sure that Shepard could account for every second of his life. He carried a forty-year burden of war. McNair wished he could take the responsibility from his friend, his mentor, someone he looked to as a father, but he couldn't. The only thing he could do was help Shepard in any way possible.

A moment of silence passed so that both men could compose themselves. Each man ignored the other's loss of emotional control.

What do you need me to do? said McNair.

I need you to find that ship or, at the very least, find out who took her. I know you have connections all over the planet. That's one reason that CEO Taller wanted you for this job.

What's so important on that ship? What was she carrying?

For one thing, two hundred fifty cubic meters of that, said Shepard as he pointed to the cube on his desk. McNair knew that amount could power this city for a year or more. "She was also carrying the Sim Ambassador. He was coming here to open negotiations. I don't need to tell you that whoever controls this resource will be the dominating factor for the next hundred years.

What are my orders?

You and your crew are to take a Jumpship to Cropopolis. Cropopolis is a group of hydroponic domes on the 'Ashen Plains.’ You are going to love the next part, continued Shepard. We have a new ship we want you to use on this mission.

What kind of new ship? McNair thought that he should be cautious.

She isn’t much to look at from the outside, but she's got it where it counts. Betty is a high-tech scout class boat with hundreds of modifications. The most important thing is that she has an HDAD (Hydro-Dynamic Aquatic Displacement) engine. So, you can go where you need to go without relying on Jumpships. You may need to move quickly from place to place. That is why I’m letting you use Betty.

Most HDAD engines were too big to put into a scout ship. That is why you mostly found them on large cargo hauling Jumpships, large cruise ships, and vast personal crafts. The HDAD was a modified version of the star-jump engines that first brought humanity to Pacifica. It was what made commerce possible. Without the HDAD, it would take weeks to go from one habitat to another and months to get to another country.

I take it you have tested the boat? said McNair showing hesitation in his voice.

She has already been on a shakedown cruise, but this will be her first mission. Shepard was beaming with pride as he spoke about this ship, much like a father expecting the birth of his firstborn.

Lisa will get all of the 'Tech Specs.’ McNair had the feeling that some bit of information was still being left out. He had been singled out and given the most advanced ship the New Atlantic Corporation had to find a boat.

Shepard reached again into his desk and pulled a black box out, the size of his hand. These are yours if you agree to go. With the last word, he pushed the box over to McNair. Inside the box were five Techno data disks. The disk was the size of a small fingernail, each labeled for a different position on the ship.

McNair closed the box and put it in his breast pocket. "Once we get the ship, where do we go from there?

Shepard smiled and said, Then I need you to go to Farley's Asylum in the 'Hot Tub.’ You have a passenger to pick up.

There were times that McNair found Shepard to be one of the most infuriating men on this planet. This was one of those times. In five minutes, Shepard had enraged and calmed him down, just to make him mad again. What do you think I am, some cruise line? I Don't Take on Passengers! said McNair in a raised voice.

To his surprise, Shepard just smiled at the outburst. How much money would it take for you to take on a passenger?

McNair felt as if Shepard backed him into a corner. He had to think of a number so high that he could get out of this and retain his honor. One million credits.

Done. Plus, ten thousand credit bonuses for each of your crew.

McNair began to laugh. The 'bonus' was what he got as a usual fee. Shepard had anticipated every response. He knew how to play McNair and how to get what he wanted. They had McNair the moment he walked in the door. He realized why Shepard had lasted as long as a politician; he was extremely good at manipulation. Okay, you got me. So, who are we picking up?

I don't know, and CEO Taller won't even tell me. Farley will give you the information and the person. Jay, before you say anything, I don't like working in the dark any more than you, but that's how it has to be.

When do we leave? said McNair with a sigh of resignation.

Within the hour. Go to the Jumpship depot. The tickets will be waiting for you. I assume that your crew has been listening in?

McNair just nodded as the sound of his crew buzzed in the neural interface. I expect them to be as discreet as you are. They classify the information we talked about.

I can assure you that they will.

Good, now get out. CEO Taller and I have to figure out where your excessive fee will come from.

Admiral, I have a personal favor to ask of you. I need your help with a private matter.

I'll help if I can. What do you need, Jay?

McNair told the Admiral about O’Toole and Thompson and the situation with the mid-level executive. O’Toole is a good man, respectful to Techno’s.

As he spoke, Shepard's face seemed to become hard as stone. When McNair finished, Shepard reached over, pushed a button on his desk, and said, Sera, can you come in here? He turned to McNair, I'll handle Thompson. You get going.

McNair left the room as Sera was entering. McNair knew that O'Toole had just gotten his wish from the urgent sounds Shepard was making as the door closed. He was glad he could make that happen.

Chapter 2 Crew

AS MCNAIR LEFT SHEPARD'S office, he accessed the transmitter in the neural interface. Preacher, get everyone ready to go. We have a little under an hour. I want full tactical gear. I don't know what we will face, but I want to be ready.

Yes, boss. Preacher was a man of very few words. Although there wasn't anything to discuss, McNair was confident Preacher would carry out his orders.

The command was not words, as much as a thought. The neural interface picked out the idea as something to be 'broadcasted’ and then sent it out on a carrier wave. Young Techno’s had a bad habit of broadcasting every thought in their head. It usually took several years of practicing the mental discipline necessary to use the interface in combat effectively.

Good, I have some personal business to take care of. McNair headed down to the security office. He didn't know how long it would take Shepard to get things moving, so he wanted to give O’Toole the news himself. McNair felt he owed him that much.

As he entered the office, O’Toole was sitting at his desk. He pointed at McNair and yelled out, You. Coming out from around his desk, O’Toole got on his knees and bowed several times with his hands stretched out in front of him.

What the hell? As McNair said it, he realized what must have happened. It seemed that Shepard pushed through the orders under top priority.

Captain, you have justified my faith in Techno’s, said O’Toole as he stood and started to do a jig. It was McNair's turn to laugh uncontrollably.

What did he do? Both men knew that McNair was referring to Admiral Shepard.

Three minutes before you walked in the door, he transferred Thompson and his daddy to the outpost in sector thirteen. They both leave in six hours, said O’Toole and started to laugh. I don’t have to put up with them anymore, and I have you to thank for that. Then the laughter went out of his face. What do I owe you for this?

I think, said McNair, that we are even. Look, most security is like Thompson. It was nice to be treated with a little respect. It was the least I could do for how you treated me, and the Admiral did it.

Great man, that Admiral Shepard. My dad spoke highly of him, and now I understand why. He sent me a message and apologized for how I was treated. Then he said that if any executives give me any trouble, I was to call him, and he would take care of it.

Yeah, well, said McNair, the law applies to everyone. That includes me. They both laughed. While I'm thinking about it, what are the damages? I was going to stop by and pay them.

Oh, didn't I tell you? The New Atlantic Corporation put up a ten-thousand credit voucher for your release. I'm sure that store you smashed up will find a way to spend every last credit, but it's paid for.

It would have been cheaper if they let me handle it. Look, I've got to run. I'm glad that I could help you out. We need men like you around.

Thank you, Captain. Give me a call if you are in town and need anything, and I mean anything.

Thank you; I will. With that said, McNair left the office.

McNair had made it to the Jumpship just before departure. The Jumpship depot was very different from the city docks that McNair was used to dealing with. The depots were located on the ground deck of the Commercial and Industrial zones. They moved the raw material and necessary food items to make the city work. Kalleth had twelve depots, all of whom were busy twenty-eight hours a day, seven days a week. It was interesting for McNair to watch all the activities. He very rarely came into the depot. He would usually take The Ranger, his ship, out to meet the Jumpship just before the jump. The Ranger would be anchored to the hull of the Jumpship, go through the jump window, then disengage on the other side. This was common practice for smaller ships.

McNair stood and watched the process happen. Once a ship was docked, the vast bay doors would open. The doors themselves had to be fifteen by twenty meters. Cargo lifters would start unloading and take the cargo to a hydraulic lift that moved the payload to a second level, a meter and a half off the main deck. More cargo lifters would move the cargo down several large hallways to whatever storage units were available until they could be sent for or picked up by the new owner.

Hey, get out of the way, you dumb ass, said some dock worker as he zoomed by on a cargo lifter.

As he started to move, McNair was still looking around the place. The loading area was ample open space, perhaps thirty meters wide, and curved out of sight with the shape of the habitat. Where are we at?

Docking bay #27, said Preacher. The Jumpship Captain has just given the two-minute warning.

McNair made it to the passenger area of the Jumpship as the crew was about to secure the hatches and prepare to get underway. His team had let him know that they were already aboard. He had listened to the preparation for the last half an hour.

From now on, I want silence on the link. McNair and his crew were all set to a specific frequency. He didn't think anyone was likely trying to patch in on the conversation, but one couldn't be too careful. His crew was more enthusiastic about this mission than any other. The pay was more than they would usually have gotten in a year. That enthusiasm might let something slip.

His crew had been hard at work for months. Perhaps a month's leave would be a good idea once the job is done. They would appreciate getting away from each other for a while. He was sure they would all be longing for a chance to spend some of their hard-earned money.

As he walked the halls of the Jumpship, looking for the cabin, McNair started to think about the technology involved in the ship around him. The HDAD engines created a spacial displacement window in front of the vessel. Forward momentum pushed the cargoship through the window. At that moment, a window opened at the destination, and the ship would come out of the other side. In this way, travel was instantaneous. Still, it had one flaw. The EMP (electromagnetic pulses) generated by the HDAD knocked out electronic circuits for a kilometer in every direction. This meant they had to be far away from any habitat to keep from causing interference. The Jumpship was large, bulky, and extremely slow. A trip that would have taken McNair five minutes in his ship, The Ranger, took a Jumpship almost two hours. Yet, it was still the fastest way around the planet.

McNair opened the cabin door and found Lisa Carmen waiting for him. What are you doing here? Don't you have something to do?

You're a gruff old meanie man, and I'm here to learn about my new toy. She was sitting on one of the cabin's six seats with her legs crossed. Lisa was short, and it was easier to sit like that. She was cute. She had short, spiked blond hair and a little button nose. It was her big beautiful blue eyes that gave her a look of childlike wonder.

He wanted to laugh, but that wouldn't be proper for the Captain to laugh at one of his crew. Little, lethal, Lisa. She was a fascinating member of his crew. She was a mass of contradictions. Childlike and playful most of the time, but still deadly and dangerous. They trained Lisa to be an engineer. McNair had read in her personnel file that she had a Ph.D. in engineering. Most Ph. D.s he had met tried to impress you with how smart they were, but not Lisa. She delighted in acting like a child. However, they also trained her as a demolition expert. She loved to blow things up almost as much as working on the engines. Lisa could destroy stuff with one hand and create with the other.

Watching an explosion, she would always say, 'BA Boooom.’ The glint in her eyes reminded McNair of a psychotic menace. At times like that, McNair wondered if that was the Techno training or if it was part of her personality.

She had joined his unit about a month before the last mission of the war. At first, he wasn't sure if she could cope with the stress of combat, but she had proved herself by coming out of that mission alive. That was something twenty-six other members of his unit didn’t do. McNair sighed and took out the box that Shepard had given him. You know you are just too damned perky. He opened the box and flicked the 'engineering officers' data disk at her. She plucked it out of the air. The speed of her hand made the disk look as if it were in slow motion. He was always amazed by her reflexes. Her typical reaction time rivaled that of an enhanced Techno. She was the fastest thing McNair had ever seen with the nerve inducers.

Goody, goody, goody. I have a new toy.

Don't be so depressed. The sarcastic remark was lost on his engineer, as she had already inserted the disk into the neural interface. Her eyes fluttered as the information was downloaded.

Wow, said Lisa in honest amazement. Have you seen this?

No, and don't spoil it for me. McNair's voice changed. It was the voice he used when giving orders. Go help with the gear and send Brain up. I need to talk to her. Then I want everyone to turn off their neural interfaces, he said as he took the seat next to the porthole.

Yes, Sir, Captain tight britches.

As she left the cabin, a thought came to McNair's mind. That young woman is a BCFMO, a brightly colored, fast-moving object.

I heard that, Captain, came Lisa's thoughts over the neural interface. So did everyone else.

McNair cursed himself for the loss of control. It was a good thing he was alone. His red face would have given away his embarrassment.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pin he kept to turn off the neural interface. Inserting it into a tiny hole, he felt the circuits die. The Jumpship had shields that were supposed to protect the inside of the ship from the EMPs, but more than a few computers had been fried when the transport had defective shielding. They turned everything on board the vessel off just seconds before a jump. The crew of the Jumpship was not taking any chances, and he wouldn't either. A burnt neural interface replacement had to be done within twenty-two hours and would entail significant surgery. McNair knew; he had it happen once. He almost didn't come out of that one alive.

McNair had asked Brain once if they could turn off the neural interface; why didn't the dammed thing stay off? As McNair understood it, the neural-electrical impulses of the body charged and activated the neural interface in times of stress. It could only be off for short periods; the built-in fail-safe would reactivate it. Suppose the Techno turned it off the day before.  The simple act of waking up in the morning turned it on. Some Technos had elected to have the neural interface removed, only to be deformed if they left the operating table alive. Too many changes were done to the body to unmake a Techno. In the end, accepting what had been done was more straightforward, and you had no choice but to get on with your life. McNair didn't want to end up some defenseless beggar. As he reaffirmed the course his life had taken, Brain entered the cabin.

You wanted to see me, Captain?

Carrie Montoya, or 'Brain' as the crew knew her, was his weapons officer. She was a mystery. Brain was a very private person. McNair never knew what she did when she took leave. She never mentioned a personal life outside the ship. He could only assume that her story was similar to his own. There were only three things that he knew about her. She was an excellent weapons officer. Good in a fight, both on and off the ship. She had joined his crew on the Hyperion ridge. During the number of fire-fights there, she had proved that she had a level head and kept her composure under challenging situations. McNair found that he had to admire her for that.

The other thing he knew was that she was a beautiful woman. She had red hair and green eyes, with thick pouting lips. Unlike Lisa, who was nothing but skin and bones, Carrie had a body that would have men lined up for a kilometer in every direction. While she could not be considered fat, her curves were in all the right places and proportions. Nothing was ever said, but McNair somehow felt Brain was more interested in women.

The last thing McNair knew about her was that she loved knowledge. That was the easiest way to say it, but perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she was obsessed with acquiring new data. It didn't matter what the data was or how trivial. Any data she had not already been exposed to was sucked up like water through a bilge pump. Usually, if the Captain had a tech question, the first person he would go to was Brain.

Yes, I did, said McNair as he gave her the disk marked for the weapons officer. Did the dock people give you any upset about bringing the tactical equipment on board? Tactical equipment meant guns.

She began to laugh. Well, they started to, and I was about to get aggressive with them when they received a call from Taller.

Show some respect. That's CEO Taller. After all, you are getting a hundred and ten thousand for this one, and he is paying it.

Yeah, right. Well, when the CEO of the whole flapping nation calls and tells them not to mess with us, they change their tune quickly.

While he understood the meaning, the words she was using were strange. You have been studying the colloquialism of the 'Earth that Was,’ haven't you?

You dammed straight. They had a right colorfully way of speaking.

McNair knew that this 'colorfully way of speaking' would only last a week or two. It was her latest fad in the hunt for useless data. A side thought came to him. Lisa must have been exposed to Brain's fad. That must have been where Lisa got that strange expression she used as she left the cabin. What do you know about liquid methane-hydrate?

I kinda figured you'd ask, so I did a little reading up on the facts. A technology report in old earth jargon. McNair had two thoughts almost simultaneously. He was glad that his neural interface was off, and this would be funny.

That's some mighty powerful stuff. It turns to gas at ten degrees unless it is under pressure. The gas burns a might hotter, so it takes much less to get the same result. Interesting that it...

That's good enough. McNair