The Lost Secret

by Vaughn Heppner

  “That’s an interesting point,” Maddox said. “We’ll check on it.”

  “There is one more thing, sir. While I scanned the wreck, I positively detected minute but ongoing repairs. As I watched, hull breaches became smaller, and the vessel’s overall disrepair lessened.”

  “How is that possible?” asked Maddox.

  “Nanites, maybe,” Galyan said. “Although I do not believe that is the answer here. There is some other function or event taking place. The actual process we are witnessing takes time. A human would likely not notice it. Being an AI, I have more discriminating sensors.”

  Maddox ingested the news. “So, you’re suggesting that some entity or computer knows when people or scanners—even teleoptics— are viewing the wreck?”

  “I am,” Galyan said.

  “I see,” Maddox said. “Once this entity or computer realizes what is happening, a ray of light is channeled through the wreck from elsewhere?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Maddox nodded. “At the same time, the vessel is effecting repairs—repairs with no visible means of cause.”

  “That is correct, sir.”

  Ludendorff paused from his repairs and looked at Maddox. “Perhaps whatever pulled you back to the C.I. Nubilus’s era is now pulling the whole or working vessel into our time.”

  “I do not see how that is possible,” Galyan said. “I do think, however, that the ship is critical for whatever Balron is trying to achieve.”

  “Attacking the wreck directly would mean having to defend ourselves from the light ray,” Maddox said, “a ray that imparts anti-energy to its target.”

  “You are most certainly correct, sir.”

  “Could our shields protect us from the anti-energy?” Maddox asked.

  No one answered.

  “What do you think, Professor?” Maddox asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ludendorff said.

  “Galyan?”

  “I agree with the professor,” Galyan said. “It is an unknown.”

  “It sounds more and more like we need to get to the quantum phase machine on the Library Planet,” Maddox said. “Galyan, did you detect where the power flux came from?”

  “Through the portal, sir.”

  “Where did the portal link to?” asked Maddox.

  “As I said previously, I do not know.”

  Maddox nodded.

  “Here we go,” Ludendorff said, seeing to press a switch inside the tall cylindrical machine.

  A second passed. Then, the holo-imaging machine began to hum.

  “Oh, this is wonderful,” Galyan said. “I am linked again to the outer world.” The Adok holoimage appeared amongst them. “Thank you, Professor, and thank you, Chief Technician.”

  “Don’t go elsewhere just yet,” Ludendorff said. “I need to repair a few more functions and see if they work.”

  “I will wait,” Galyan said. “You have no idea what it is like to feel lost for eons. I must recalibrate my interior timer.”

  “Good idea,” Ludendorff said.

  Maddox was hardly listening. He wanted to attempt an experiment against the wreck of the C.I. Nubilus, using an antimatter missile as his tool. If the experiment failed, then maybe it was time to utilize Keith and the tin can and fold to the second planet, landing on the surface ice. He needed to know what was happening on the Library Planet, and he needed to know which New Men had joined the expedition. The sooner he learned, the better.

  -67-

  Sometimes, the easiest and most violent solution was the best. If a madman terrorized a community, hunting him down and shooting him in the heart would solve the problem. He could no longer rape the women, hold up or knife the innocent, or create whatever trouble he’d been in the habit of doing. He was six feet under, at peace with the universe as the townspeople went about their daily business.

  Maddox was a proponent of easy, violent solutions, given they were relatively moral. He sat in the captain’s chair as the first antimatter missile left its tube and headed for the third planet. The missile had an enslaved camera at its tip. Thus, the captain watched on the main screen as the missile made its journey.

  “So far, so good,” Meta said from her station.

  Ludendorff was at Andros’s station, as the Chief Technician continued to assist those repairing the Tarrypin.

  The missile crossed the planetary horizon in relation to Victory. The camera spied the orbital wreck, which looked much like before.

  “The missile is accelerating,” Meta said.

  A ray of light beamed from the wreck. At that point, the transmission from the missile ceased.

  “That was useless,” Ludendorff said. “We don’t even know what happened.”

  “You don’t think the missile exploded?” Maddox asked.

  “That’s my point,” Ludendorff said. “We don’t know.”

  “Launch the next missile,” Maddox said. “This time, launch two probes to follow the missile in sequence.”

  “Aye-aye, sir,” Keith said.

  Like before, the antimatter missile left the starship’s tube and accelerated as it headed for the edge of the third planet. Like before, this missile crossed the planetary horizon. Its camera relayed imagery back to the main screen.

  That became a split and then a tri-screen as the two probes launched in sequence. The missile headed for the wreck. A ray of light stabbed from the five-kilometer vessel, and the data from the missile’s camera ceased immediately.

  The main screen became a split-screen. The first probe crossed the planetary horizon in time to see the missile crash against the wreck. Glowing anti-energy outlined the missile, its warhead failing to detonate.

  Maddox waited tensely, but he never saw the outlined glowing missile leave the wreck on the other side.

  “Did the missile vanish?” Maddox asked.

  On the main screen, two rays of light beamed from the wreck. Communication from the probes ceased.

  “While the probes worked, I didn’t detect the missile after it reached the wreck,” Ludendorff said. “I suspect the missile went elsewhere through a portal.”

  “To the supposed portal-producing machine at the second planet?” asked Maddox.

  Ludendorff shrugged.

  “Hopefully, the missile entered Fourthspace and detonated there,” Maddox said.

  “With the anti-energy around it, I doubt an explosion would have mattered,” Ludendorff said. “Consider, what would antimatter do to an anti-energy universe?”

  “Not much?” asked Maddox.

  “Such is my own conclusion,” Ludendorff said.

  Maddox inhaled through his nostrils. It would seem that the experiment had failed miserably. “Did we learn anything from this?”

  “Of course,” Ludendorff said. “We’ve eliminated one means from our arsenal of possibilities. That narrows down what will work against the wreck.”

  Maddox nodded philosophically. He jumped up and allowed himself to pace before the main screen. He put his hands behind his back, his eyes narrowing. After several passes before the screen, he returned to the chair, pressing an armrest comm control while he stood beside it.

  A man answered.

  “Get me the Chief Technician,” Maddox said.

  Thirty seconds passed before Andros said, “Yes, Captain?”

  “Is the darter ready for operations?”

  There was a slight hesitation before Andros said, “Not yet, sir.”

  “How long until it can perform a stealth mission?” asked Maddox.

  “It’s down to two days, sir,” Andros said. “If I could accelerate the repairs, I would. But we’re working feverishly overtime as it is.”

  “Thank you,” Maddox said. “That is all.” He cut the connection and stared up at the ceiling. Before anyone could comment, he walked to Keith who sat at helm.

  The short Scotsman looked up, using a hand to swipe a lock of sandy-colored hair out of his eyes.

  “How would you like a change of scenery?�
� Maddox asked softly.

  “Are you talking about me piloting the tin can, sir?”

  Maddox frowned. “Who told you about that?”

  “The professor mentioned something a little while ago.”

  Maddox nodded. “The tin can, Lieutenant—do you think you could fold us onto the surface ice of the second planet?”

  Keith snapped his fingers.

  “Could you do it without the star cruisers sensing you?”

  Keith became thoughtful. “That, matey, would be harder.”

  Maddox frowned.

  “I know, I know. I always forget. It’s sir. That’s what I meant.” Keith leaned away from Maddox and ran some calculations on his board. The ace pursed his lips and finally leaned back to Maddox. “It depends on what you want, sir. I can land on the surface ice, at least the ice facing the third planet. Folding onto the other side where the star cruisers are orbiting—” Keith shook his head. “There’s a limit to what even the greatest can do.”

  “I never knew,” Maddox said.

  “I know, I know, ’tis a sad fact to admit. Yet, there it is, sir. If getting down to the Builder tunnels is the idea, we can do it, provided there is an entrance to the tunnels on the side facing the third planet.”

  “Could you fold from here?”

  “You mean, do I have to ‘see’ the second planet to make the jump?”

  Maddox nodded.

  “It would be better doing it that way,” Keith said.

  “Not if a ray of light beams us from the wreck,” Maddox said.

  “You’re right there—sir.” Keith leaned away from Maddox again, grumbling as he tapped on a flight calculator. “Okay, okay,” he muttered. He turned to Maddox. “I can make the fold from here. It could get rough, but I’m the man to smooth any roughness out.”

  “How many can fit in the tin can for that?”

  “Fit and hold all the equipment needed on the second planet?” Keith asked.

  “You’ve already done the math?”

  “Been thinking about it ever since the professor dropped the hint,” Keith said. “Given weight requirements, mass and storage space in the fold-fighter…I’m guessing a seven-man team might fit if we all squeezed. That’s including myself, sir. Six would be wiser, meaning yourself and four others tromping about the Builder tunnels—again, providing—”

  Maddox reached out, grabbing the nearest shoulder. “Listen to me, Lieutenant. Are you listening?”

  “Yes,” Keith gasped, working to hide the pain from the captain’s grip.

  Maddox did not ease his hold. “Can you really bring six of us to the surface ice? No BS, Lieutenant. Give me the straight answer.”

  Despite the pain, Keith scowled. “I said I can do it, mate, I mean sir. That means I can do it. I hate BS, only loving the truth, and a woman’s beauty. I love that, too.”

  Maddox released the man. Without smiling, he patted Keith’s shoulder. “You’re relieved from helm duty, Lieutenant. Get to your fighter, get it ready, and be ready to jump to the surface ice as soon as I’ve collected my team.”

  Keith grinned as he rose, rubbing his shoulder. “Remember, sir, just four others and you. “Seven and all the needed EVA suits and equipment would but cutting it a little too fine. Six is the number this mission.”

  “I understand,” Maddox said. “Go. Get the tin can ready for immediate deployment in a freezing hell-zone.”

  “Aye, aye, sir. It will be a pleasure.” Keith headed for the bridge exit.

  Maddox glanced at Ludendorff, who swiveled his seat around to pretend to study the science station. Maddox thought about that. He moved slowly, wondering if this was the best solution to the overall problem.

  “Professor,” Maddox said quietly.

  “Yes?” Ludendorff said, turning around and looking up.

  “What do you think?”

  Ludendorff’s features went blank.

  Maddox regretted the question as soon as he asked it. He’d taken a vacation on Earth before this mission. He was supposed to be sharp, at his very best. Had Balron done more to him with the out of body experience than he’d realized? Had the sharpened sixth sense made him…more aware of the dangers and thus a little more cautious? If so, he didn’t like that.

  “Your plan is foolhardy,” Ludendorff said. “And yes, I was eavesdropping on your conversation with Keith. And yes again, I did tell him what you were considering.”

  “I appreciate your candor.”

  “I doubt that,” Ludendorff muttered.

  “Would you join us if I requested it?”

  “I don’t think so,” Ludendorff said.

  “What if ordered you to come?”

  “I’d refuse,” Ludendorff said. “Keith is good, but such a fold is expecting too much from the ace.”

  “The fold is the only thing you fear about this?” Maddox asked.

  “Captain, let me respectfully suggest that you watch your mouth.”

  Maddox grinned, as he’d made his decision. Ludendorff was going. If he had to drug the Methuselah Man, he’d do so. What he needed to do first, though, was figure out who else would go. They could face New Men down in the tunnels, providing Ludendorff showed them how to get into the subterranean levels.

  What else was there to do at this point? Above all else, he wanted to avoid a space battle between Victory and six of the deadliest star cruisers in existence. That meant five people were going to have to sneak around like weasels in the subterranean tunnels and outsmart the New Men, Balron, and possibly any Erills on the other side of the portal.

  Maddox turned from Ludendorff, beginning to relish the idea of the challenge.

  -68-

  As Captain Maddox mulled over the composition of his team, on the other side of the second planet, Golden Ural listened to the commander of the inserted ground team. Ural was on the bridge of Star Cruiser Shapur, sitting in the captain’s chair. They still hadn’t heard from the Emperor. Venna’s claim was the extent of their knowledge concerning his royal cousin.

  The orbital insertion of elite drop troopers had worked—partially, anyway. No one from the grounded shuttle had detected the ten men as they landed. Well, if the shuttle operators had detected the troopers, they hadn’t relayed that upstairs to Ural. Unfortunately, the surface conditions down there were even worse than Ural, Strand or anyone else had imagined. The ten drop-troopers had landed on the ice, but much farther from the shuttle than originally intended, and scattered from one another. That had been due to the 110-kilometer-hour winds. Since landing, the troopers had first gathered into one group and then trudged endlessly across the ice. Their EVA suits hadn’t been up to the extended challenge. Four elite troopers were dead, frozen stiff on the ice. Two more staggered, their suits malfunctioning and their lifespan now a matter of minutes, maybe less.

  “Freezing,” the drop-troop commander said via comm. “It’s freezing even though I’ve cranked my heater full blast. Can’t take much more of this.”

  Ural stared at the armchair comm. He’d pushed for the drop even though Strand had quietly predicted disaster. Strand was now being proven correct. Ural clicked a button. “How far are you from target?”

  “Twenty-three kilometers,” the commander said.

  Ural looked up and found Strand staring at him.

  “Are you going to let them die?” Strand whispered.

  “You’re a snake,” Ural whispered back.

  “What does that have to do with the commander and his remaining men? If you let them perish…you might not be able to hold onto your temporary command.”

  “Do you think I’m worried about that?”

  “You’d better be,” Strand whispered. “If you lose control, I’ll probably fall with you. I’ve staked my life on you knowing what to do. Remember, Artaxerxes Par is ready to pounce at your slightest failure.”

  “Why should that bother me?” Ural asked, suspiciously.

  Strand sidled nearer, whispering, “Artaxerxes Par, along with others, slew
your brother Oran those many years ago.”

  Ural’s features hardened. “Do you know that as fact? Can you prove it?”

  “Prove it?” asked Strand. “It’s obvious.”

  Ural’s gut tightened, although his features remained set. “What do you know about the murder, Methuselah Man?”

  “I can read you New Men better than anyone alive. I see the signs. I know.”

  “Facts, you snake, I need facts before I can act.”

  “Lower your voice,” Strand warned, glancing from side to side. “Others are watching and listening. They’re waiting for you to stumble. The insertion team might be the first nail in your coffin. How you react to the failure could the second. The third and final nail will be waiting for Artaxerxes to strike instead of hitting him first.”

  Ural stared at the comm, listening to the harsh breathing of the commander downstairs on the surface ice. He couldn’t let all the drop troopers die because they’d been exposed too long to the hellish elements.

  Ural clicked the button. “Commander, help is coming.”

  “Golden Ural?” the commander asked.

  “I’m sending down a shuttle to pick you up.”

  “Javed Kir will see that,” the commander said. “He’ll slay the Emperor because of it. My failure will have killed my sovereign.”

  “I don’t think so,” Ural said.

  “If you’re wrong, I must slay you. I would rather die for the Emperor than be the cause of his extinction.”

  “Can you run twenty-five kilometers before your suit gives out?”

  “That is not the question.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Strand whispered. “It’s not his decision to make.”

  Ural turned to the side, to see the wizened Methuselah Man at his elbow. The dwarf’s eyes burned intensely, and the skin seemed too tight for the little man’s face.

  “Let the commander and the rest of his men die, and you will lose temporary command of the expedition,” Strand whispered. “That seals the Emperor’s death. Artaxerxes desires power. I don’t know why, but you do not seem to strive to achieve greater authority as the rest do.”