Chapter 7

Noon found Eric walking down a city street to his usual lunchtime haunt. Normally, he’d be with Kurana, and he wished he was, but Michael had commandeered her assistance in their shipbuilding exercise. She had been flabbergasted with their design specs, and became very excited at their build plan and timeline. That, more than anything else, convinced Eric this was the right path to pursue, but it left him sans a dining partner for his midday meal.

He slowed and paused outside the diner’s door, as he realized this was not a meal he would want her at.

The colonel was inside.

He was sitting alone in a booth facing the door, but he was under observation by no less than eight men, two in the diner and six all over the block. There was a sniper team on the roof down the street and an SF team in a milk truck a block up the road.

Eric was confident that the combined might of the US Armed Forces could not shoehorn him into that mountain base again, but an unexpected bullet could end his plans for the future quite decisively. Wrapping the kinetic shield that had protected him before as tightly as he could around him, he braced his shoulders and walked in.

He made eye contact immediately, and the colonel (no, the General, his mind-reading ability told him) smiled a reserved welcome.

He waved to the waitress for his “usual” cheeseburger, and sat down across the table from Brigadier General Gerald Washer.

The General smiled again. “You’re looking well, Eric.” His baritone was still oddly comforting, and Eric realized he had missed the older gentleman. He found himself smiling back.

“Hello, General. You, too.” The General’s smile widened a bit more in acknowledgment of Eric’s manners, in keeping current with his recent promotion.

“I trust you’ve been well? You left under unfortunate circumstances, but I’m gratified to not find your face in any newspapers.”

Eric flashed an appreciative grin. “Oh, I imagine I won’t be able to keep a low profile forever, but for now, the less waves I make, the more I can do.”

The General nodded. “We’ve seen your motley crew working out of that warehouse up the street, but we kept our distance, figuring you’d sense any intent and take more insistent steps at being invisible.”

Eric shrugged. “I wasn’t really hiding, I pay for my lunch here every day with my check card. I did notice that I’m still receiving a paycheck from Uncle Sam, which I thought was interesting.”

“Well, upon reviewing the means and stated motivation of your departure, plus the care you took with our wounded, I had difficulty accepting you had truly gone ‘rogue’, as some would call it. I chose to believe you saw a significant threat to the welfare of the United States, perhaps the world, and felt the call of duty.”

It was Eric’s turn to nod. “Something very much like that. We’re heading for a shitstorm, General. Honestly, I don’t know if I’m up to the task, but there’s nobody else.”

“That’s usually how it is,” the General agreed, and his voice sounded sad. They both stared off into space for a moment, caught up in their own thoughts. Finally, Eric looked up at him.

“So why contact me now? You probably knew where I was several months ago.”

“True. We did.” The General paused. “Is your young lady friend Kurana Mitonir SeliGarde? The woman not from around here?” he mentioned vaguely as the waitress walked up with Eric’s cheeseburger.

“Thank you,” he said to the waitress, before turning back to the General. “She is,” Eric answered, fighting the blush at realizing the General and who knew how many others had seen their seemingly private moments the night before.

“Pretty girl. I assume your interest in her is not entirely ... personal?”

“You’d assume correctly,” he responded shortly, well aware that his blush was becoming prominent at this point.

The General gave a small, tight grin and Eric’s obvious discomfiture, and was abruptly all business. “What can you tell me of the nature of this threat?”

Relieved to no longer be talking about Kurana, he gave the General a quick summary of what was coming, and what it could mean for the Earth between bites of his burger. His previous habit of not talking while eating, he realized, had all but vanished. After he had finished, the General sat silently for a few minutes, frowning into his coffee.

“So you think the possibilities for diplomacy are non-existent?” He finally asked.

“Why would they negotiate? They are in a far stronger position than we are. And yet, the moment they realize how much potential warfighting power we possess once we figure out this ‘Essence’ thing, we’ll be a huge threat to them. They will see no options other than destroying us, utterly, immediately. Maybe they’ll take a few people willing to embrace the Empire, but none of the more powerful ones that could ultimately challenge the Emperor.

“Keep in mind, too, that as more time goes on, the more we would integrate into the Empire, and the less it would mean to be ‘highborn’. The elitist class at the top will definitely not like what that implies. I think it’s a foregone conclusion that they will do everything in their power to wipe us out.”

“Hmmm. What are you doing about it?”

“Well, myself and my ‘motley crew’ as you call them are learning as much as we can about the threat. We do have a couple of advantages, the first and foremost being that there is a noticeable difference between us and normal human beings, and by “normal” I mean those that are born without the genomes. Not every Terran is motivated, disciplined, or resourceful, but on average, we completely destroy the bell curve. We’re looking into building some ships to mount surgical strikes, kind of a space-based guerrilla war.” Eric sighed.

“But we really don’t have the time or the people. This is all really a desperate gamble.” Eric stared glumly at his empty plate.

The General nodded. “I think I can funnel some personnel resources your way, if you’re of a mind,” he suggested. “You’re working with fifty people, fifteen hundred could make the difference.”

Eric looked up at him. “I had considered asking for that ... but I must admit I’m concerned about accepting help from a government, any government. You will serve what you believe are America’s best interests, but I’m trying to look at the best interests of the world, and the Powers That Be aren’t likely to be that open-minded. Do you disagree?”

The older gentleman shrugged. “There could potentially be a conflict of interests, but I doubt it would be a disastrous one. You may be right, though. I just thought I’d throw it out there.”

“I promise I’ll seriously consider it. I can’t promise anything else. I know you’re trustworthy, General, but I don’t have that high an opinion of your superiors, especially the ones that were appointed or elected to their positions. In the meantime,” Eric leaned in and lowered his voice, “I’d appreciate it if you would do what you can to keep those Powers That Be off my back so I can get as much as possible done.”

The General smiled. “No promises, Eric, but I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, perhaps it would be a good idea to meet here regularly. You may not trust us, and I can’t really blame you for that—you know the nature of people far better than anyone else, with your unique gifts and all—but you may have intelligence or information that can help us prepare for this coming event. I’ll even buy.” The General said with a light chuckle.

Quickly probing the General to verify the honesty of his offer and suggestion, Eric agreed. “Done. This is my regular lunch place, as I’m sure you know now, so just stop on by. When she’s not so busy, I’ll introduce you to Kurana. I’ve told her about you, and I know she’d be interested in meeting you.”

Reaching across the table, the General solemnly offered Eric his hand, and Eric took it firmly. “Done. See you in a couple of days, Eric. Good luck and Godspeed. I’ll grab the check.”

While reassured, Eric didn’t release the protective shield around him until he got back to the warehouse.

Kurana, meanwhile, was in a state of awe. These people had spent three months studying with Shiloh’s crew, and were able to demonstrate an understanding of the mechanics, operations, and design of the Barranicor that in some areas exceeded that of the crew. More incredible, they noticed flaws in the system algorithms that prevented the equipment from working at peak efficiency, and immediately saw different ways to use equipment that would give them something else they needed or wanted. Her meeting with the core engineering team for this new ship design idea was eye-opening.

Jason and Ellen were “geeks” that had scoffed at the ship’s computer system limitations from the first day they were introduced. They now planned on redesigning one based on a “Linux kernel” that they estimated would be faster, cleaner, more robust, and more flexible to respond to changing conditions. While Kurana had doubts that they could do it as simply as they said, it was clear that they were confident. They also promised a “beta” inside a month. The standard ship OS hadn’t been updated in a thousand years, because it worked fine, but two men were going to redesign it from the ground up and have a working prototype in a month. A better prototype.