The Lost Secret

by Vaughn Heppner

  Soon enough, they trudged along the mountain-lake shore, heading for a hunting lodge. There were no other sky-sharks visible, nothing in the sky except for a few drifting clouds, the sun and soaring hawks searching for carrion and prey.

  Over a century ago, the Thomas More Society colonists had seeded the planet with Earth creatures and plants genetically engineered for dominance. During the next hundred years, the native plants and few insects had mostly died out, leaving the majority to the Earth invaders.

  After trekking many kilometers they halted, drank cool lake water and ate some roots Ural dug up and washed.

  “I’m surprised you’d do that for me,” Franco said.

  Ural considered that, and realized he’d unconsciously thought of the preman as a sort of pet. He didn’t share that with Lieutenant Franco, but merely shrugged.

  “Thanks,” Franco said, before he started eating. The preman was clearly ravenous.

  Ural ate thoughtfully, and once finished, did not restart the trek. The preman did not say so, but he was clearly exhausted. The creature needed rest, maybe some sleep before continuing.

  After eating, Franco slid against an old fallen trunk, and soon, his eyelids closed and his head slumped forward as he snored.

  Ural rose quietly and strolled for several hundred meters, picking up flat stones and skipping them across the placid water. Like his nephew, Captain Maddox, he did his best thinking while indulging in an activity.

  After all these years, Strand had finally bestirred himself, he mused. It was possible Ural had himself set the Methuselah Man in motion several months ago with his questions. During those questions, Strand learned Professor Ludendorff had remembered the Library Planet of their youth…

  Competition, Ural realized. The ancient competition with Ludendorff had likely kick-started Strand’s mind, launching it onto its former devious track. The trouble was that Strand had hit upon a key point and sold it to the Emperor. The Throne World’s industrial base had always been too small to defeat the Commonwealth of Planets in a real war. The only way the Throne World could have won was with a sudden campaign that fed off each victory. The initial invasion of “C” Quadrant—

  “Was stupid,” Ural said. In hindsight, it had been grossly stupid because they had become far too arrogant. Along with the need for women, their hubris, their very successfulness, had blinded them to obvious realities.

  Ural snorted. Victory made one lazy, while defeat had a way of concentrating the mind. The invasion fleet had left “C” Quadrant because Star Watch effectively defeated them. The Throne World had been regrouping ever since. Strand’s idea—it was the first real one for bringing about eventual victory over the Commonwealth.

  “It’s them or us,” Ural said, as he flung a stone.

  He accepted Strand’s reasoning, and he knew how most dominants viewed the premen. The dominant—or New Men, as humans called them—were the newest evolutionary advancement in humankind. The premen were the old creatures. Had Cro-Magnon Man really fought the Neanderthals for control of the Earth? Had the Cro-Magnons caused the extinction of the Neanderthals? Was the lesser species destined for extinction if the greater won? Was it premen or New Men in the galaxy, but not both?

  “There isn’t enough room for the two of us,” Ural said softly.

  That seemed far too bleak an idea. The galaxy had many spiral arms. Why couldn’t the premen pick up, head elsewhere and survive just fine?

  Or why couldn’t the dominants?

  Ural shook his head at that preposterous idea. He himself might consider such a thing, but the Emperor wouldn’t. It would smack of inferiority and defeat.

  Yet, even the larl retreated in the face of a thousand feces-flinging monkeys.

  If the Emperor followed Strand’s advice, if the Emperor could sway enough of the dominants, would he change the Throne World into a different sort of society? They could turn their back on the Commonwealth and carve out an entirely new empire in the stars. In time…

  “Will it be war to the death?” asked Ural into the lakeshore breeze.

  That was a future possibility. Yet, that would all depend on Strand keeping his word. Could the devious Methuselah Man change their DNA so all of them could sire girls, not just boys?

  In spite of his distrust of Strand, the Methuselah Man’s idea held promise. Why hadn’t any of them thought of a similar plan? Did Strand see things none of them could?

  Ural continued to skip stones for two hours. During that time, he decided that he approved of the overall plan, but that he still distrusted Strand the planner.

  That brought up another point. The Emperor was considering traveling to the Library Planet. That presumably meant with Strand in tow. In other words, the Emperor approved of the plan, and that bespoke high intelligence and logic on the Emperor’s part. How did that jive with the Emperor’s murderous bent of mind against the premen and with his open rutting before others?

  Could the Emperor be playing the fool, hiding his cunning?

  Out of the corner of his eye, Ural caught a glimpse of motion. He turned, seeing Lieutenant Franco stumble to the shore’s edge. The preman knelt, scooping up water to drink.

  Ural approached. “Feeling better?”

  Franco looked up sharply, water dripping from his hands. Black marks circled his eyes. The nap seemed to have exhausted instead of revived him. Or the nap had allowed his body to begin recovering, which meant it recognized the extreme deprivation it had undergone and now showed it.

  Franco stood, swayed and plopped onto his butt. He hung his head, perhaps gathered his resolve, raised his head and worked back up to his feet.

  “Can you walk the rest of the way?” Ural asked mildly.

  “Let’s go,” Franco said in a hoarse voice.

  Ural pursed his lips, realizing the preman would never make the twenty-eight-kilometer hike to the hunting lodge. It was possible the Emperor had realized that. That meant the only reasonable course was to do what the Emperor had suggested was impossible: that they both fly the sky-shark at the same time.

  “We’re heading back to your…your companion,” Ural said.

  Incomprehension shined in Franco’s eyes until he asked, “Do you mean Morris?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why go back?”

  “We’re going to bury him.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “To dignify his existence,” Ural said.

  “I’m not tracking you.”

  “Afterward, we’ll fly back to the lodge.”

  Franco swayed, perhaps at a loss for words.

  “Are you ready?” Ural asked.

  “Yeah, sure,” Franco said, “why the hell not?”

  ***

  Ural could have run back, but it was obvious the preman was having trouble keeping up with his long strides. Ural slowed down.

  “Why are you doing this?” Franco asked later.

  “As I said, I have some questions for you.”

  “Why not ask them and kill me once you’re done?”

  The suggestion surprised Ural. “I have no intention of killing you.”

  “You think I want to live here as a slave?”

  “I don’t know. Do you?”

  “Hell, no! I…”

  “Yes?”

  Franco exhaled explosively. “I don’t want to die, either. I hate the survival extinct. It’s sabotaging me.”

  Ural chuckled.

  “Did I say something funny?”

  “You’re tired and defeated in spirit. That’s always a poor moment to make lifetime decisions.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Ural’s features stiffened. “Perhaps you do not realize, but I am Golden Ural. It is inappropriate to speak to me in such a disrespectful manner.”

  “Oh. Sorry. You mean I shouldn’t be trying to get you to kill me?”

  “Good. You understand my point.”

  They walked in silence for several minutes.

  “I’m no
t stupid,” Franco finally said, glancing up at him.

  Ural halted and pointed at a small boulder.

  Franco must have understood. The preman shuffled to it and sat with a suppressed groan.

  “How did the Lord High Admiral Cook disappoint you?”

  Franco stared at Ural. “Uh…I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do. You were most emphatic about it earlier.”

  “I guess I was. Well…Cook accepted questionable people into Star Watch.”

  “Such as?”

  “Captain Maddox for one.”

  “Why did that bother you?”

  Franco stared out across the lake. “It’s so deceptive here. The world is so beautiful. It’s like paradise. And then you golden-skinned freaks hunt us, killing everyone but me.”

  Ural refrained from chastising Franco about calling dominants freaks. He wanted information. He wasn’t trying to train the preman in correct action—at least, not yet.

  Franco regarded him. “Maddox is like you guys. He isn’t completely human, but is something different, something too much. I didn’t understand that until Admiral Fletcher took over, and one of the new commissars explained it to the people on our ship.”

  “What ship?”

  “It’s gone now. So I guess it doesn’t matter if I talk about it. The missile cruiser Shelby. We were stationed near the Beyond at Starbase One-Nine-Two. Our main task was to head into the Beyond to aid any Patrol vessels that requested it.”

  “The Shelby was far from Earth then?”

  “It was that. I was the main weapons officer. I learned a lot from Commissar Junot. He explained Humanity Manifesto Doctrine to us. He told us how humanity was in competition against all comers. Survival of the fittest mandated mankind had to learn to fend for itself. If we allied with freaks and sports—mutations, in other words—we might be giving a leg up to our exterminators. Either humanity won on its own, or it died to superior aliens or mutated humans. Having people like Captain Maddox around only aided and abetted future foes. New Men like you guys…” Franco shook his head, adding in afterthought. “Seeing what I have today, I realize once again that Junot was right.”

  “How did Admiral Fletcher disappoint you?”

  Franco brayed laughter. “Come on, man, are you kidding me? Fletcher allied with the Liss cybers of Jarnevon. The aliens infiltrated Star Watch, using us to try to murder each other. Fletcher used aliens and almost brought about our genocide. The Bosks of Jarnevon—I doubt they’re real humans anymore. We should have nuked their planet to the bedrock just to make sure.”

  “Should you nuke the Throne World to the bedrock?”

  “Oh, hell, yeah,” Franco said. “Junot was right. It’s you or me, survival of the fittest.”

  “We are clearly more fit than humanity.”

  Franco shrugged. “You could be right. That doesn’t mean I’m going to help you kill my species.”

  “What about Methuselah Woman Lisa Meyers? How did she betray you?”

  “That one’s easy. Meyers promised to help us, and she did take us in. But she cut and run, leaving the Shelby to fend for itself. Our crew died today, unarmed—slaughtered from a distance by your Emperor in his one-man aircraft. Yeah, that really proved his superiority.”

  Ural shook his head. “Methuselah Woman Lisa Meyers has no love for humans. She wishes to exterminate all of us—dominants, Spacers and Earthmen alike.”

  “Yeah?” asked Franco. “And why does she want to do that?”

  “So she can restore the Builders, bringing them back to glory.”

  “More aliens,” Franco said, as he spat on the ground. “What’s so good about Builders that Meyers loves them so much?”

  “That’s an interesting point,” Ural said. “Do you know that most of our present technology is based on Builder lore?”

  “Huh?”

  “Disruptor and fusion cannons were Builder inventions. The electromagnetic shield and anti-gravity technology all derive from Builder inventions.”

  “No shit?” asked Franco.

  “I understand. You’re bitter at having to face unpleasant facts.”

  Franco thought about that, nodding afterward. “So, what’s your point?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m talking. I’m learning. Why does Meyers love the Builders to such an inordinate degree? It’s puzzling. Perhaps those who believe she’s unhinged have the right of it.”

  “Whatever,” Franco said.

  Ural studied the preman—the human, he decided. The man was bitter indeed, but he was tough and loved his species. He might learn more about Meyers through him, or learn how Meyers operated among the premen.

  “Feel rested enough to start walking again?” Ural asked.

  “If you can do it, I can do it.”

  Ural raised his eyebrows. “Very well. Let’s start.”

  -15-

  Over two hundred light-years away from the Throne World, Starship Victory headed for a Commonwealth Laumer Point.

  Laumer Points were wormhole entrances and exits, aiding faster-than-light travel between the stars. The present one was located in an outer Oort cloud, linked to a different system six light-years distant.

  By use of wormholes, star-drive jumps and plain velocity, Victory was headed in the general direction of “C” Quadrant, all the information Professor Ludendorff had given so far concerning the location of the Library Planet fifteen hundred light-years away.

  Maddox slouched in the captain’s chair on the bridge. It was different without Valerie right there with him. So far this journey, she’d remained aboard the Darter Tarrypin, training and running simulations with her two new crewmembers. The darter had stayed in Number Four Hangar Bay the entire time.

  Maddox wondered when Valerie would take the Tarrypin out for some test runs. A darter seemed too puny of a command for a lieutenant commander. But… He shrugged, sitting up. The idea that Ludendorff knew the location of the Library Planet but refused to impart it—

  “No,” he whispered. The trip could take years using this method. Did his grandmother have years? Could he waste years traveling to the Library Planet and back again?

  Maddox shoved up from the chair. “You have the bridge,” he told Keith.

  “Aye-aye, sir,” Keith said from Helm.

  Maddox headed for the exit.

  “Captain—” Meta said from her station.

  “I’m fine,” he told her. “Just taking a walk.”

  She half rose and then sank back into her seat, monitoring the communications board.

  Once in the corridor, Maddox said, “Galyan.”

  The AI holoimage appeared, floating beside him.

  “Where’s the professor?” Maddox asked.

  “In his room,” Galyan said.

  “The science laboratory?”

  “That is what I said.”

  “No, his room could be his quarters.”

  “Oh. Yes. That is correct. Do you want me to tell him you are coming?”

  “Let it be a surprise.”

  Galyan glanced at him sharply.

  Maddox frowned in return.

  Galyan’s eyelids fluttered.

  “What are you doing?” Maddox asked.

  “Running complex computations,” Galyan said. “Is that a problem, sir?”

  “What do the computations concern?”

  “I am uncertain I wish to tell you.”

  “That’s it,” Maddox said. “Tell me at once.”

  “May I preface my report, sir?”

  Maddox had continued walking, with Galyan floating beside him. He nodded once, almost a head tic.

  “Meta has become concerned about you,” Galyan said.

  “She spoke to you about her concerns?” Maddox asked.

  “May I dodge the question, sir?”

  “No!”

  “Meta sought me out, sir.”

  “When?”

  “Fifty-six hours, three minutes and nineteen seconds ago,” Galyan said.

  �
��Okay… Did she say why?”

  “She did. Again, I request permission—”

  “Galyan,” Maddox said, interrupting. “Let’s cut this nonsense. When I say I want information, that means tell me. Don’t try to get out of answering.”

  “Yes, sir,” Galyan said. “Meta has observed worrying tendencies in you. You are more easily angered and upset than usual. The implication is that stress and hidden tensions are wearing down your normal good humor.”

  “Okay,” Maddox said sharply. He stopped talking and a second later, he stopped in the corridor as he concentrated. “Fair enough. I am tense. Trust my wife to notice. What are your findings, Galyan?”

  “After running your personality profile—”

  “Galyan.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Spare me the preamble. Just give me the conclusion.”

  “You are stressed, sir. I suspect the nature of the mission has created the tension. It is also possible Valerie’s reassignment is troubling you.”

  Maddox considered that, and resumed moving down the corridor. “I think you’re right,” he said, as they turned into a different hall.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “For what?”

  “For confirming my findings,” Galyan said. “I will upgrade my probability number about you several points.”

  Maddox stared up at the ceiling. “Do me a favor, would you?”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  “Go to Meta and make a report. Tell her what you told me.”

  “This instant?”

  “That’s right.”

  Galyan disappeared.

  Maddox increased his stride, and he debated with himself as to the best way to approach the professor. He reached a conclusion and made a detour to the gym. It was time to hit the heavy bag, working out some of his frustrations. Dealing with the professor could be a chore. It would be better if he wasn’t agitated before the meeting started.

  ***

  Maddox finished in the gym, his arms hanging limply. The heavy bag still swung from his last punches. He backed away and started unwinding the wraps around his fists as he breathed heavily.