The Lost Command (Lost Starship Series Book 2)

by Heppner, Vaughn

  “True.”

  “It’s alien technology?” Meta asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What does it do?”

  “You’ll see soon enough.”

  Meta grew uneasy. “Are there aliens there?”

  “No.”

  “Ghosts?” she asked.

  Kane froze. Slowly, he sat back, turning, regarding her. “What does that mean?” he asked.

  She said nothing, deciding to do a Kane on him.

  He opened his mouth, maybe to ask more. Did he realize she wouldn’t answer? Did he figure it would take too long torturing the answer from her?

  Meta didn’t want to tell him about the holoimage aboard Victory. The less Kane knew about the super-ship the better.

  Kane went back to piloting the scout.

  In time, they approached a silver object. Meta leaned forward, studying it. It wasn’t just an object, but a giant pyramid like those in Egypt. It rotated slowly, spinning in place.

  “What’s a silver pyramid doing out in space?” Meta asked.

  “What’s a ghost?” Kane returned.

  “Does this having anything to do with the pyramids on Earth?”

  Kane snorted.

  “Is that a stupid question?” she asked.

  “One of the worst offenses of the cattle are their bleating questions that they already know the answer to,” Kane said.

  Meta didn’t get angry this time. She genuinely didn’t know the answer. But if Kane thought she already did…

  “So that has nothing to do with those on Earth,” she said.

  “You know that isn’t right,” Kane said. “Are you trying to goad me? If so, it seems a foolish way to go about it.”

  “Whatever,” Meta said, trying to hide her excitement. What did it mean that this pyramid had a connection to those on Earth? Was Kane saying ancient spacefarers had helped the Egyptians build those?

  She would have to ponder the idea.

  Kane resumed piloting, bringing them closer to the spinning pyramid.

  Two hours later, Meta had an idea of the thing’s size, gargantuan, bigger than the Cestus Company hauler. The sides looked metallically smooth.

  Kane matched the pyramid’s spinning velocity. Then, he edged the scout nearer and nearer.

  “What are you trying to do?” Meta asked.

  “You’ll see,” he said.

  Finally, he seemed satisfied. The scout must have been a kilometer away from the object.

  “Let’s go,” Kane said, unbuckling, standing.

  “We’re going somewhere?” Meta asked.

  “Yes. Out there.”

  “To the pyramid?” Meta asked.

  Kane sighed.

  “Okay, okay,” she said. “Don’t be so huffy all the time. How do I know what you’re planning? You call this the Nexus?”

  “Come,” he said, grabbing her, pushing her toward the hatch.

  They went to a locker room. Kane told her to put on a spacesuit. He donned one as well. With a control unit, he opened a hatch, and they went inside. The hatch shut, the airlock depressurized and the other side opened.

  Meta floated to a small cycle.

  Kane hooked a magnetic lock to her suit. He climbed on behind her. A second later, the two-man cycle detached from the scout. Kane applied thrust, and they started for the pyramid.

  Meta watched in awe. The stars blazed around her. She craned her head back, looking around Kane at the scout. It was similar to the Geronimo, but different in small ways. For one thing, it lacked armaments.

  Soon, the pyramid grew, filling her vision. Kane rotated the cycle, braking. Facing the pyramid again, he began inching along a wall.

  “What are you looking for?” Meta asked through her helmet’s comm-unit. “Maybe I can help you find it.”

  Kane didn’t reply. Then a section of pyramid wall slid open.

  Meta gasped. How did Kane have access to such ancient alien technology? It was incredible. What did this say about the New Men? Maybe there was a reason why they had superior star cruisers. Maybe they hadn’t developed the high-tech themselves, but found it as Ludendorff had originally found Starship Victory.

  Kane drove through the opening. It closed behind them.

  Meta couldn’t stop blinking. Inside, the pyramid was a vast skeletal maze of girders. Lights blazed and giant balls of energy pulsed.

  Kane guided them to a silver landing pad. He grounded the cycle on it. Then, he clunked his helmet against hers.

  “Can you hear me?” he asked.

  Meta heard a tinny sound. She realized he hadn’t spoken through the comm-unit, but through the metal of the helmet itself. Didn’t their comm equipment work inside the pyramid? It would appear not.

  “I hear you,” Meta shouted.

  “Good. Stay on the cycle. I will return.”

  Kane then climbed off the space-cycle and walked in a staggering way along the silver pad. It floated on nothing, although it was attached to a small wall that rested against a glowing ball. Kane must have magnetized his boots. He approached a wall with various man-sized levers on it like a giant clock.

  Meta debated with herself. Should she scoot back and fly the cycle away? She had no idea how she would get out of the pyramid. What if she became trapped? Maybe she should try to escape for the good of humanity. That’s likely what Maddox would have done.

  I don’t want to die. I don’t even know what’s going on. Did Kane plan for that? Does he think he knows me? What in the world is he doing?

  Kane reached up and moved a clocklike lever. He stood back as if studying what he had done. Then, he stepped up and moved another lever. He did this for five minutes, stepping back each time and studying his handiwork.

  Finally, he lurched back to the cycle and climbed on.

  Meta expected him to clunk his helmet against hers and tell her something. That didn’t happen. Kane started up the cycle and flew away.

  What had that all been about? Meta still had no idea what the Nexus did.

  A slot opened, and the cycle darted back into space. Meta found herself hyperventilating. She told herself to calm down.

  After a short journey, Kane landed back on the scout near the hatch. He magnetized the cycle to the ship and reversed the process. Soon, they stood inside the airlock, listening to air hiss within. A green light flashed. Kane pushed open a different hatch, and they climbed out. Kane twisted off his helmet. Meta did likewise.

  “What did you do?” she asked. “Why did you move those levers?”

  “We don’t have any time for explanations!” Kane shouted, sounding highly agitated. “Run to the control room, now!” he roared. The big man didn’t wait for her to obey. He grabbed her and propelled her down the corridor.

  Meta got his sense of urgency. Whatever he had done in there had a time limit. That frightened her, and she hated the feeling. Still, she ran with him.

  They both threw themselves into their respective seats.

  “Buckle in,” Kane said. “It could be your life if you don’t.”

  She gazed at him. The big man seemed scared. That frightened her even more. With shaking hands, Meta buckled in.

  Kane worked the controls. The scout’s engine thrummed into life.

  At that moment, a strange phenomenon occurred outside the scout. A tiny pulsating red glob of matter appeared. It shimmered and expanded, rapidly growing to a little more than twice the scout’s size.

  “What is that?” Meta whispered.

  “The Nexus has opened a portal,” Kane said in a strained voice.

  “A portal to what?” Meta asked.

  “It is like a jump point, but it reaches across a greater distance. You must steel yourself.”

  “For what?” she asked.

  “Leap Lag,” he said.

  “Is that like Jump Lag?”

  “Many times worse,” Kane said.

  Meta stared at Kane in horror.

  With a shaking hand, Kane tapped the controls. The scout headed
for the pulsating red matter.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Meta asked.

  Kane stared intently out of the viewing port.

  “The portal is small,” she said.

  “Shut up!” Kane snarled. “If I make a mistake—”

  Meta closed her eyes then opened them again. She began to tremble with fear. This was horrible. Was it really going to be as bad as Kane said? The man never seemed to joke around.

  The scout entered the portal.

  In seconds, the small vessel leaped across hundreds of light years. Then, the scout popped back into existence.

  Inside the spaceship, Meta and Kane howled in agony. They thrashed on their seats, vomited and cried out again and again.

  Meta had never experienced anything like this. She would never willingly make such a journey again. The pain in her mind, in her body, kept growing, seeming as if it would never stop.

  Knowing what would happen, how had Kane found the courage to do this? Before she could figure out an answer, Meta thankfully blanked out.

  -20-

  Captain Maddox jogged around the bridge, moving hour after hour in a loping rhythm. The holoimage of the ancient alien watched him, saying nothing. A stainless steel robot stood motionless by the door. Maddox knew it would come to life if he tried to go outside.

  He’d been on the bridge for weeks now as Victory used its star drive. The ship made short hops, if one could call three to five light years at a time short. As a small concession to the crew’s comfort and ease of mind, Maddox had convinced the AI to give everyone ten minutes warning before a jump. Even so, this had been a grueling passage.

  Since the last conversation, Galyan had fallen silent. No matter how hard Maddox had tried to engage the AI, the holoimage ignored him. The feeling of being a prisoner in solitary confinement had grown stronger by the week.

  Now, the holoimage stirred, and it spoke. “There is a problem,” Galyan said.

  As Maddox jogged past the holoimage, his head snapped up in surprise. He halted, considering the words. As he did, the captain took out a cloth, wiping his sweaty face and neck. His uniform was rumbled and had become smelly, badly needing a wash.

  “I’m listening,” Maddox said between gasps.

  “The star drive is showing signs of strain,” Galyan said.

  “You’re overusing it, maybe overheating certain mechanisms.”

  “That is correct,” Galyan said.

  “The answer is obvious then. Let the star drive cool down before engaging it again. It will help all of us if we can rest longer between jumps. The effects are clearly cumulative.”

  “I understand your words,” Galyan said. “Yet I am…I am anxious to reach Wolf Prime.”

  Maddox found that interesting. “Why?” What would make an AI uneasy?

  “I keep wondering if Professor Ludendorff is still on the planet,” Galyan said. “It’s possible the New Men will scour the surface for him. They are clever, and it is possible they have uncovered Star Watch’s need for the man. I find these unknowns troubling and wish for greater speed. Therefore, I use the star drive more than I should.”

  “You must restrain yourself,” Maddox said. “We’ll get there when we get there.”

  “I cannot subscribe to such a fatalistic philosophy. I want to be there now. Thus, we will push on, maybe even harder than before.”

  “If you do that,” Maddox said, “you’ll ruin the starship.”

  “Yes,” Galyan said, “I give that a high probability.”

  “What good does it do to wreck the starship so we fail to reach Wolf Prime?”

  “We should reach the planet, but at a greatly diminished capacity.”

  “What you’re saying is the starship won’t be any good afterward when you hand it over to us,” Maddox said.

  “That means nothing to me.”

  “It should,” Maddox said. “You need our cooperation.”

  “That is not rational. I need nothing from you.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Maddox asked. “You will achieve your goal faster and with more certainty if you engage our cooperation on your behalf.”

  “I perceive that as a threat,” Galyan said. “Know, Captain, that I will kill crewmembers if you slacken your efforts on my behalf.”

  “You’re missing the point,” Maddox said. “Think about your last battle against the Swarm.”

  The holoimage cocked its head. “Yes. There are faint recollections in my core about the battle. It is curious. I detect further blocks, deeper than before, making it impossible to access a full recounting of the battle.”

  Maddox wanted the starship at peak efficiency at Wolf Prime and beyond. Deeper blocks, how could that be important? No. How could he use that to his advantage?

  “If you could recall the battle with clarity,” Maddox said, “it would show you that beings who want to help are more useful than those forced into action.”

  The holoimage’s eyelids flickered.

  Maddox had come to realize this meant the AI was using more core memory.

  “Your theory may only be true for humans,” Galyan said. “But even that is not a given. I would have to access greater amounts of data concerning your species’ historical records.”

  “Take my word for it,” Maddox said.

  “That is exactly what I refuse to do. I will not take your word on anything, as you are a notorious liar.”

  “You wound me with your disagreement,” Maddox said offhandedly.

  “I state facts,” Galyan said.

  Maddox eyed the holoimage. This was an opportunity. He needed to exploit it.

  “These arguments between us aren’t necessary,” the captain said. “If we cooperated, we’d both benefit. For instance, there’s a way to make better use of the vessel’s star drive so you’d reach Wolf Prime faster.”

  “Tell me how this could be done,” Galyan said. “Otherwise, I will instruct my robots to execute several of your crew.”

  “How does that make rational sense?” Maddox asked.

  “Very easily,” Galyan said. “By killing a human—”

  “No, listen to me,” Maddox said. “I’ve just informed you that I know something you can use. Your reaction was to threaten my people. Next time, I won’t tell you I know something important so you won’t know to threaten me.”

  The holoimage regarded him. “I begin to perceive your point. If I threatened you, saying I will kill crewmembers if you withhold information, I won’t learn of it because you might stay silent next time.”

  “Exactly,” Maddox said.

  “This is upsetting.”

  “Welcome to the real world,” Maddox said. “I have to deal with these sorts of situations all the time.”

  “I am not interested in your past. It is meaningless to me.”

  “But I’m sure you would be interested in using the tramlines,” Maddox said. “Some of the routes make longer jumps than you can do with the star drive. By a judicious use of the wormholes, you could save wear and tear to the ship.”

  “The Laumer Drive is human technology,” Galyan said. “That is not an integral part of my vessel. My holoimage cannot enter the section in the hangar bay that contains the Laumer Drive. I would have to send a robot, which wasn’t constructed to use human interfaces.”

  “You could gain our greater cooperation,” Maddox said. “We can go in there for you and use the interfaces.”

  The holoimage studied him. “You desire to run the Laumer Drive for me?”

  “I’m not a technician,” Maddox said. “I’d have Lieutenant Noonan do it, maybe with Doctor Rich’s help.”

  “No,” Galyan said. “Do you think I’ve forgotten what the lieutenant did to my previous robot? She destroyed it, and the doctor shut me down. I have special plans for those two—” The holoimage fell silent.

  “This is interesting,” Maddox said. “You have deliberately deceived us. You said earlier you would give us the starship after Ludendorff imprinted my engra
ms into your core. But now it seems you have a hidden agenda for others in the crew. I find that extremely gratifying to learn.”

  Galyan looked up, shocked. “That is not a rational response.”

  “Of course it is,” Maddox said. “It tells me something about your race I hadn’t realized until now.”

  Galyan scowled. “If you are implying less than sterling qualities for my people—”

  “No, I’m sure you were all the purest altruists that God ever created,” Maddox said sarcastically.

  The holoimage pointed at Maddox. “I detect falsehood in your statement. You are imputing my race with practicing underhanded actions.”

  “That’s right. I’m saying you’re enough like us that I feel comfortable with you. If that weren’t so, we wouldn’t be able to communicate. Think about that for a moment.”

  The holoimage blinked rapidly. “I must think on this more deeply,” Galyan said. He thereupon vanished.

  Maddox glanced at the robot. It did nothing, although he could sense it watching him. Wearily, the Star Watch officer went to a chair, sitting down.

  Maddox had been alone for weeks now. The worst part was that he actually felt isolated. He seldom did on Earth. He thought about the others, Valerie, Riker and Dana. They endured the journey together. Undoubtedly, they had their own set of miseries to deal with, but loneliness wouldn’t be one of them. Did he envy them?

  I am an island. I will endure and defeat the AI and the New Men after Galyan.

  Swiveling in his seat, Maddox faced the panel. He activated the main screen. Stars showed out there. He didn’t see any nearby planets. What system were they in?

  “Captain Maddox,” Galyan said, sternly.

  Swiveling around, Maddox saw the holoimage frowning at him.

  “There is something in your words,” Galyan said. “Cooperation often proves superior to coercion. I have offered you the use of my starship to help against the New Men. My payment is your suffering for many cycles of time. You will take my place in the memory core. If the New Men destroy Victory, however, that would cause your pain to end. I desire humanity’s survival against your enemy so you will endure the ages and suffer as I’ve suffered.”

  Maddox said nothing.

  “I find the situation too tenuous,” Galyan said, “as I have just run a long-term analysis. Your species cannot defeat the New Men.”