“Exactly.”
“And if they fail,” I said, “you selectively erase their memories so they don’t recall ever being approached in the first place.”
“That’s right. Using a memory erasure drug we came up with in a similar fashion to the truth serum. So far, our vetting system has worked like a charm. In fact, we don’t have security cameras anywhere in our undersea base. No need. We know everyone there is loyal and believes in our cause, and our personnel appreciate the privacy and trust.
“We do have a military contingent there,” continued the captain, “but it’s mostly a place for people to live, work, recreate, and even vacation. We want them comfortable, not feeling like they’re always being watched by some Big-Brother type organization.”
I nodded. “Do you plan to use this truth serum on me?”
“Wouldn’t think if it, mate,” said Nick with a smile. “Don’t want to risk that it might offend you. You’re definitely a special case.”
“Are you just saying that because it wouldn’t work on me anyway?”
“No. It’s my understanding that the serum is nanite-proof.”
“Interesting,” I said. “Well, however you’ve managed recruitment,” I added, waving my hand at the miniature city laid out below us, with more movement than a thriving ant colony. “It was clearly worth the effort.”
“Definitely,” said the captain. “Since the similarities to jet manufacturing are obvious, it’s easy to see why our raiding of the Boeing brain-trust was so helpful.”
I nodded.
“And Elon Musk was obsessed with automation at the time,” continued Nick. “His companies had always been trailblazers, so we siphoned away plenty of employees from Tesla and SpaceX. And Amazon, another company obsessed with automation. The majority of the robots you see here are built using terrestrial tech only.”
“Why not recruit Musk and Bezos themselves?”
“We’d have loved to,” replied the Aussie. “I mean, they both seem more alien at times than actual extraterrestrials,” he added with a smile, “but there’s no doubt they’re bloody visionaries. And they get things done. But Brad and Nari have a list of key people they monitor closely, and both of these billionaires are very near the top. Even if this weren’t true, they’re also too much in the media spotlight, too high profile.”
I nodded. It was a good answer. “So how many zip-craft have you made?” I asked, switching gears.
“Over three thousand. We’re up to a production rate of about fourteen hundred a year now. Not very many, but they’re treacherously complicated little buggers. The chips and AI alone require specialized equipment that we’d never be able to build without detailed instructions.”
“Do you have intel on how many ships the Federation has here?”
“Their standard asteroid ships, regardless of size, usually carry about ninety-eight thousand, even though they use very few of them. Their manufacturing techniques have been automated for millions of years, so they err on the side of having too many. We estimate we can exceed this number in less than a decade.”
“But you don’t want to wait that long?”
“No. We can’t wait that long.”
“So what’s the plan? Just the broad outline. And yes, I still want to see your evidence, but I’m willing to concede it will convince me.”
The captain gathered his thoughts. “I suppose it can’t hurt to tell you now. Brad and Tessa have both been kept unconscious since we took them from their base. So we’d sneak you and a sleeping Brad Schoenfeld back onto the island, and place you both in some underground nook or cranny.”
I nodded. “Go on.”
“Then I’d give you a syringe with a drug that can awaken Brad in about thirty seconds. The plan would be for you to inject him, and then pretend to be unconscious yourself. Let him shake you awake. You’d need to do a little acting to pretend to be groggy.”
“Thanks,” I said wryly. “I’d have never figured that part out.”
The captain smiled. “Then you’d make up a story about how your nanites helped you awaken soon after the gas knocked everyone else out—which is true—and that Tessa was killed. That you managed to carry his unconscious body to a safe hiding place, but just after getting him situated you triggered some kind of stray explosive. Based on how mutilated you were, when you closed your eyes, you were sure you were dead. But the nanites must have found a way to mend you, even though it took a few days.”
“Right,” I said, impressed. It was a solid effort, explaining how we managed to stay alive but never managed to report in. Because we were both taking long naps.
“I can give you a large bag of blood,” continued the captain. “Smear it on and around you and let the blood dry before you inject him. Even though the nanites supposedly healed you, they wouldn’t make the initial mess disappear.”
He narrowed his eyes in thought. “Oh, one more thing—have a hole ready to bury the syringe, bag, and so on before Brad wakes up.”
“That’s quite the ruse,” I said.
“Believe me, he’ll buy it. Because he won’t have any reason not to. And we’ll work out the details far more carefully before you go, so you can be as convincing as possible.”
“I’d need to do this soon.”
“Yes. I’m thinking you should get a good night’s sleep and leave in mid-morning.”
I nodded. “Right. So the idea is that this will give me a complete reset with the Federation, explaining the time-gaps. Not to mention that I’ll be a hero for saving Brad’s life, and still trusted.”
“Not just still trusted . . . still special. Their AI wants you to have free rein of everything. It’s afraid that if you’re impeded, you won’t be able to fulfill your destiny. Whatever that is.”