Mako (The Mako Saga: Book 1) (8 page)

“What, you brewed it?” she asked, impressed.

“Aye, I picked it up as a hobby about a year ago and have been tinkering around with it ever since. It took me a while to perfect the recipe, but I think I finally have it where I want it.”

“What’s it taste like?” Link asked.

“It’s smooth—a lot like a Pilsner but with more body and flavor,” he relied, regarding the dark gold beverage with obvious satisfaction.

“So like a domestic light or something?” Danny guessed, never much of a beer connoisseur.

“Aye Danny, kinda like that… only it doesn’t taste like urine!”

Amused at Lunley’s usual disdain for domestic brews, Lee couldn’t help but chuckle. Then with a final swallow from his water bottle, he picked up the E-42 briefing packet that he’d finished compiling early the previous week and began thumbing through the pages.

“Alright, now that everyone is present and accounted for, take a seat and let’s get down to business.”

****

In line with
Mako Assault
’s “team sport” philosophy, each player was required to select a Military Occupational Specialty (or MOS) prior to beginning E-1. By default, Lee’s background in military history made him a shoo-in for the team’s lead strategist, and while the others always played a part in organizing their various missions and objectives, it was usually up to Lee to sort through the intelligence, evaluate each piece of information, and construct the oftentimes intricate details of their environment strategies. Inevitably, his ability to not only assemble a solid battle plan, but also make snap decisions in the field, earned him the MOS of Squadron Commander, though poring over data and analyzing maps was far from his only asset to the team.

After spending the bulk of his summer downtime in the
Mako’s
flight simulator, and in large part because of his lifelong fascination with aviation, he quickly rose through the ranks as not only the most skilled fighter pilot in their squad, but also one of the highest-scoring players in the
MA
record books with confirmed aerial kills. Quickly known for his unorthodox maneuvers and innovative piloting style, he took the name of “Daredevil” as his call sign—a moniker befitting of his prowess in the cockpit, though it was actually derived from a comic book he’d loved as a kid, centering around a blind superhero whose inhuman instincts and intuition in combat earned him the title of “The Man Without Fear” among the criminal underworld.

To her credit, Mac eventually proved to be quite the competent pilot herself, often times flying along Lee’s wing, though her primary MOS was that of Communications Specialist, or Com-Spec for short, a tech-savvy position that made use of her real life love for computers, and more times than not, her skills as a hacker. Still, as much of a slam dunk as Lee’s call sign had been, the selection of Mac’s proved to be a bit more challenging. After considering a wide array of possibilities, ranging from “Jet City Woman” to “Smurfette,” she recalled a story from college in which the others—having overindulged on the night’s drink special at the bar—had rousted her from bed at the obnoxious hour of 3:15 a.m. for an emergency ride home. Under normal circumstances, this would’ve been little more than an inconvenient nuisance for her; but as fate would have it, this instance just so happened to have fallen on the eve of a potentially nasty final exam—the outcome of which would probably determine whether or not she passed the course. Irritated beyond belief, though knowing full well that none of them were in any shape to drive, she threw on sweats and a t-shirt, pulled her hair into a loose ponytail, and headed for the bar. Once back at the house, Mac helped the others carry an all-but-incapacitated Hamish inside, where they collapsed him down on the living room sofa that let out an ominous crack under Lunley’s mountainous form. Watching him for a moment to make sure he wouldn’t be sick, Mac inspected his glazed eyes and contorted expression before finally deciding it was safe to leave.

“Ma… Maaccccc?” he stammered as she turned to go—his breath reeking of Scotch—his accent, having been dulled somewhat by 10-plus years of living stateside, unmistakably thick and pronounced as it usually was when he was either drunk or highly animated. “Ya’re like… Ya’re like… our very own… Northern Star, ya know that?”

“Right Hamish, Northern Star. Got it… You’re not gonna hurl, are you?”

He shook his head and rose to his feet to face her, wobbling for a moment before resting a large paw on her small shoulder to steady himself.

“Aye, Northern—” (hiccup) “—Star. Because no matter where we are… or whatever childish mischief we manage to get ourselves into… ya’re always there to guide us home, safe and sound.”

As furious as she’d been with them prior to then, Mac couldn’t help but smile at the sentiment. Granted, there was no denying that he was horrendously trashed, but even still, she could see in his broad, smiling face and glossy brown eyes that he sincerely meant what he said and she was grateful for that. As such, when the time finally came to select a call sign for her character, “Northern Star” was the unanimous pick.

In contrast, Danny Tucker—who took the call sign of “Hurricane” for his south Florida roots—never had much interest in the game’s arsenal of ships and fighters. Aerial combat had never been his thing, but having spent a considerable amount of time training with his agency’s S.W.A.T. team while in law enforcement, he found himself much more enamored with
Mako’s
litany of guns and infantry weapons; though his real passion came with its hand-to-hand combat elements. An avid fan of MMA and various forms of martial arts (but never having found the time to master any of them beyond an amateur level), Danny immersed himself in
Mako’s
close quarters combat module and by the time their squad was officially deployed on its first mission, he was already developing a reputation as one of the game’s fighting elite. This, combined with his ever-growing knowledge of urban warfare, made him the perfect complement to Lee, whose expertise focused on the more aerial, and by their third mission, he had cemented himself as Lee’s second in charge as the group’s Assistant Commander, Ground Operations.

Next there was Link, call sign “Jester” for his cocky attitude and lifelong fear of clowns, a mysterious loathing he’d had since childhood and one that, to this day, he’d refused to elaborate on. Having grown up on
Star Wars
as a kid, his favorite character had always been Han Solo, the cocky captain of the Millennium Falcon and a self-proclaimed scoundrel at heart. Personality similarities aside, Link always preferred the bulkier, bruising style of Mako’s larger crew-manned vessels, his favorite being the SB-40 Tuskan Starbomber, a heavily armed fortress of an aircraft he’d long described as “a really pissed-off AC-130 in space.” Unlike Lee and Mac, who opted for the high-performance speed and precision of Assault’s fighters, such as the signature SF-13 Mako, Link had always said his fondness for the bigger ships stemmed from their brute-like strength, awesome firepower, and overall durability in a firefight—not that this explanation ever pacified the others, who claimed he was just overcompensating for his small stature… among other things.

Outside the cockpit, Link was nothing short of a lethal marksman. His years of hunting with his father in the forests of Colorado made him an excellent shot with a sniper rifle, and he quickly adapted to
Mako’s
myriad environmental and technological options for the role. But beside the technicalities of his craft, there was just something about the sinister nature of it that appealed to Link’s twisted sense of humor. Therefore, since there was no official title in the game for “professional smuggler” or “trash-talking captain,” Link took on the role of “Reconnaissance Specialist,” in line with the stealthy nature of the job.

Finally there was Hamish, call sign “Wulver,” a name he’d taken after an old Scottish legend about a morally noble werewolf who would leave fish on the windowsills of the poor who couldn’t otherwise afford to feed their families. Much like the mythical beast for which he was so aptly named, Hamish was a friend to both all who knew him, and all who didn’t. His infectious Scottish charm and immensely extroverted personality never allowed anyone to be a stranger for long, and generally, this translated to newfound friendships wherever he went. By the same token, Hamish Lunley was by no means one to be crossed, and on the rare occasions when that happened, his monstrous physique alone made him a force to be reckoned with. So when the time came to fill the slot of Engineering Specialist with an extra emphasis on heavy ordinance, the choice couldn’t have been clearer. In short, Lunley’s job was to either fix things, or blow them up with as much violence, horror, and fiery spectacle as was humanly possible, and he did both with a smile. In the air, as was often the case in real life, he usually served alongside Link, most times as a navigator onboard the Tuskan—or in cases of combat—from the bomber’s primary, rear-deck gunnery chair. No matter the stage, real-life or virtual, the duo was a team all their own. Always had been, always would be.

Finally, once their call signs had been designated, and their MOS assignments had been identified, all that remained was for the five to choose a moniker that, henceforth, would forever define them as a group in the massive digital universe of
Mako Assault
. After tossing around a number of quasi-serious options, like the “Merchants of Death” and “Blade Runners,” plus a few corny ones, the consensus favorite being “The Imperial Guard of the Chocolate Star Fish,” they eventually settled on “The Renegades,” an homage to their alma mater of Florida State, whose mascot was the Seminole Indian, and a salute to their not-so-by-the-book style of gameplay. Shortly thereafter, Mac had even gone so far as to design them a custom squadron patch. Featuring a classically styled, shield-shaped crest with a distressed, battleworn surface, the golden insignia was split down its center by a brilliant flaming spear and capped with a garnet banner which read simply, “Renegades: Never Divided.” Upon her initial unveiling of the masterpiece, the design itself drew rave reviews from the others, largely in part for its sleek look and intricate detail work. However, the logo itself paled in comparison to the meaning of the banner, a fact which each of them made it a point to note. Once the name had been verified with the PGC servers, the logo was submitted and the group was officially clear to begin what they were certain would be a historical campaign of online terror and carnage against a ruthlessly brutal imaginary foe.

****

“Lee, you’re my boy and all, but
dude
!” Link grumbled, fanning through the pages of Lee’s manuscript-sized E-42 briefing packet. “We’ve really gotta find you a girl because you’ve obviously got
way
too much time on your hands.”

“Aye Lee,” Hamish agreed. “Is this a mission briefing or a bloody manifesto?”

“Sorry about that, fellas,” Lee apologized. “But this is the final mission of the game and from everything I’ve been able to find about it online, which ain’t much given that only one other clan in the world has been this far, they throw a lot of curveballs at us in this one.”

“Curveballs my ass,” Link muttered. “More like a friggin’ no-hitter, apparently.”

“Okay, here’s what we know,” Lee continued. “After heavy losses in the Rynhall, Riveras, and Marlon systems, the Alystierians have managed to fight their way right into the backyard of Auran space. The only thing holdin’ ‘em back from an all-out invasion of Aura itself is the issue of fuel. By the time their fleet gets that deeply into our territory, they’re in dire need of resupply, but they’re hell and gone from a hub to get it. With that said, intel has confirmed that the Alystierians are nearing completion of a full-scale refueling depot in orbit around the planet Morrius, and if they finish it, they’ll have the capacity to strike any target, anywhere, anytime, Aura included.”

“Wow, game over,” Danny noted.

“Exactly.”

“How good is the intel?” Link sneered. “Just so we’re clear, as far as I’m concerned, the entire Auran Central Intelligence Bureau can pretty much go screw itself in the culo! I’ll be damned if I’m gettin’ raked over the coals again just because one of their little peon analysts can’t read a friggin’ report!”

“It’s legit,” Lee assured him. “Command deployed a deep space probe three days ago that sent back images and telemetry verifyin’ its authenticity.”

“So we just need to blow the depot, right?” Mac asked, visibly surprised that the vaunted “E-42” would be so straightforward. “What’s the big deal about that? I mean, if it’s still under construction, why not just deploy the fleet, blow the thing out of orbit and be done with it?”

“The Alystierians are well aware of the importance of this facility which is why they’ve set up a sizable blockade to defend it. In order to get past those ships, the Aurans would literally have to throw everything they have at them for any shot at success, and given the heavy losses by the fleet in recent months, that’s a real shaky proposition.”

“Has the CIB calculated an early probability of success?” Hamish asked.

“Best-case scenario, 50/50 and all indications are that’s a generous projection.”

“
Wow
,” Danny marveled. “So after everything we’ve been through in this game, the war still comes down to a literal flip of the coin.”

“Apparently,” said Lee. “But command thinks the destruction of this depot could mark a major shift in the war effort because not only would it keep the enemy off of their doorstep, but it would also put a hefty dent in the Alystierian fleet.” He paused to glance down at the opposition estimates on the page in front of him. “Make no mistake about it, folks, the Alystierians know exactly what’s at stake here, and they’re stackin’ the deck with this blockade to make sure they defend it too.”

“Which is?” Hamish asked.

“Five cruisers, eight destroyers, and two carriers, plus the fighters and bombers stationed on the planet’s surface, in addition to the ones aboard the carriers.”

“Man, that’s some serious firepower!” Link whistled.