Sword of Minerva (The Guild Wars Book 10) Mark Wandrey (e novels to read .TXT) 📖

thing they saw was a large, round atrium with a skylight admitting the morning sun. In the center was a fusion plant. The sign stated it was a 12-C Fusion Plant, manufactured by Mitsubishi Heavy Industries in 2030.

“Just five years after first contact,” Rick noted after reading the sign.

“We were a lot closer to sustained fusion than the aliens realized. We just hadn’t figured out the lasers for initiation—and, of course, F11. Without F11, it was a bitch and a half controlling the radiation and containing the reaction.”

“But no reactors are made on Earth.”

Sato nodded. “We could, the problem is all the components that aren’t made here.” He narrowed his eyes, and information bubbled to the surface. “The flow of F11 began to dwindle when we tried to tool up to manufacture fusion plants, too.”

“Well, that’s dirty pool,” Rick said.

Sato laughed and patted Rick on his armored shoulder. “The guilds are all out for themselves. It might keep government from favoring any one business interest over another, but it helps those businesses become monopolies and pick who they want to do business with.”

“That goes on here, too.”

“Yes, but not on the same scale as out in the galaxy.” Sato shrugged. “‘Every form of government is inferior to whatever you’re using at the time,’ is an old saying. Most aliens grudgingly like the Union because there have been no all-out wars in 20,000 years. However, there have been thousands of small- and medium-sized ones.”

“How big is this war on Earth?”

“On the scale of the Union? Barely worth noticing. Outside of the Cresht Region, home sweet home, I doubt it made the news.”

The 12-C fusion engine was flanked by massive Tri-Vs showing films of Japanese scientists building the reactor. These movies were playing on a loop. There were maybe a dozen people in the atrium looking at the reactor or watching the movie. The museum had opened 15 minutes before they arrived. What with it being a weekday, he wasn’t expecting many others this morning.

The museum was laid out in such a way as to encourage guests to follow a route that would lead them through Japanese space development starting with the Lambda, and ending with current projects. Deciding he didn’t want to buck the trend, Sato strolled along the indicated display route.

There were branches off the route covering rocket-era flight, airplanes, gliders, and even balloons. He passed those, as well as early rocketry and the obligatory national flagellation over WWII.

Finally they reached the first starships. These were Tri-V presentations of Japanese citizens visiting ships in orbit. Sato read that these were the few who’d joined in the Alpha Contracts. Japan’s warrior spirit, Bushido, wasn’t quite dead. She’d sent 42 of her boys and girls to the stars, mixed within six newly-formed mercenary companies. None of them had returned home.

Further on was the Kōkishin, Japan’s first spaceship post-first contact. Capable of continuous thrust via a fusion torch, it went out to Saturn for a month-long exploration, fulfilling its namesake, Curiosity. The entire ship was in the museum, carefully restored to the condition it was in when used. The Kōkishin had suffered irreparable fusion core damage after a bad landing. Sato moved on, though Rick lingered a few moments.

Sato passed two more ships. Both were like the Kōkishin in that they weren’t starships. The first true starship was near the end of the tour. Sakura Maru was a Maki-designed ship purchased essentially as scrap by the Japanese government. Refitted as best as the nation’s industry could manage, it was crewed with the best and brightest the nation had to offer, and sent to the stars to explore, make friends, and trade.

It was similar to the Chinese Zaoshang, the first Human starship. Japan had never liked learning about the universe from unknown peoples or aliens. The expense of buying, outfitting, and supplying a starship was immense for a nation as poor as Japan was, at least on a galactic scale. The population was overwhelmingly in support of it.

Sakura Maru, Cherry Blossom, was like Kōkishin, a permanent part of the museum. The main crew gangway was open, allowing guests to visit. It was recreated in detail, and a Tri-V was playing a scene from the ship’s departure ceremony.

“Mr. Sato,” Rick said from the display nearby.

“Yeah?”

“You should look at the names on this plaque.”

Sato moved over and looked. It was a brass plaque attached to the hull after the ship returned. A dedication to the crew.

“I can’t read the Japanese…” Rick said.

“I can, it’s just a dedication to the crew, and those who didn’t return.”

“I saw the names,” Rick said and pointed. “Including this one.”

Sato focused on the name; Taiki Sato.

“Dedicated 2029,” Rick said. “I think I understand why you were drawn here,” Rick said, “but did you know you were over 100 years old?”

“No,” Sato admitted. But it also doesn’t surprise me. The ship was too familiar.

* * * * *

Chapter Nine

“Are you sure it’s you?” Rick asked. “Don’t a lot of Japanese share the same name?”

“There are more than a few Taiki Satos in Japan,” Sato admitted, then looked past Rick and shook his head. “However, I’m pretty sure it’s me.”

Rick turned to follow Sato’s gaze. The Tri-V was showing a repeat of the ceremony again. Now that they were off to one side, Sato could see the crewmen on the ramp behind the ship’s captain, who was speaking about the epic mission they were about to undertake. One of the crewmen to the back of the group was a young man, no more than 25 years old. Sato knew the face well; it was his own, only younger.

“Jesus, over 100 years,” Rick said again. “How? You don’t look over 50.”

“I thought I was 48,” Sato admitted. He watched the younger version of himself standing patiently,