The Lost Secret

by Vaughn Heppner

  “We’re almost there, Lord,” the pilot said.

  The feeling of anticipation grew. Ural might die in the next few minutes, or he might have a chance to capture Venna if he survived the elevator. Was he thinking with his loins?

  “Maybe just a little,” Ural admitted to himself, as he envisioned Venna naked on a bed, waiting to please him.

  -70-

  Back on Victory’s bridge, Maddox asked Valerie to step into his ready room. He sat at his desk as she sat before it.

  “I’ll make this brief,” he said, “as I want to be on my way.”

  “Has the professor agreed to come?” Valerie asked.

  “Not yet. Look… Your ship is temporarily decommissioned, and at the same time, you’re the senior officer aboard Victory. What’s more, you’re used to commanding the starship while I’m gone. While you’re no longer on the official ship’s roster, I want you to take command during my absence.”

  “Sir, I—”

  “You’re the best officer to run the starship,” Maddox said, interrupting. “You have personal knowledge, experience and—”

  “I’ll be glad to do it, sir,” Valerie said, sounding out of breath.

  “Oh?”

  “More than glad,” she added.

  “It’s irregular,” he warned.

  “You’ve taught me that irregular isn’t always so bad. I mean, not often, mind you, but sometimes it works best that way.”

  “Excellent,” Maddox said. “It’s settled then?”

  “Do you have any standing orders?”

  “I do. Run the ship the best you can, Lieutenant Commander. Trust your judgment and do what you think is right. This is a wild situation and we’re far from home, and who knows what will happen next. You decide to do a thing even if everyone else is against you.”

  “Thank you, sir. It sounds as if you trust me.”

  Maddox stood, with his fingertips on the desktop. “If you think that, you think right. Any final questions?”

  “If the star cruisers find us and make an attack run…?”

  “It will all depend on the situation. You know that, right?”

  “I do now,” Valerie said.

  Maddox walked around the desk. Valerie stood, holding out her right hand. Maddox ignored it as he hugged her, patting her on the back and then stepping back, holding her by both shoulders.

  Valerie smiled shyly.

  Maddox gripped her shoulders and only then took her right hand, squeezing and she squeezed back with all her might. “Meta will run your old station. Make sure Galyan doesn’t throw himself away if he tries to save us and you think it’s impossible.”

  “Are you expecting your exploration to go badly?”

  “We’ll be facing New Men, maybe Strand, maybe Balron and who knows what else. It could go very badly, even though I expect to win in the end.”

  “I hope so too, sir. Good luck, and…please watch out for Keith, if you could,” Valerie said, blushing.

  “He’ll do fine,” Maddox said. “He’s the one who will be watching out for us. But I’ll keep my eye on him just the same.”

  “I appreciate it,” Valerie said softly.

  Maddox nodded, and he turned to go, pausing and sighing. He didn’t tell her why he sighed. Instead, he started for the exit. It was time to gather the last member of the exploration team.

  ***

  Maddox knocked on the professor’s science-lab hatch. He’d taken longer choosing his team than he’d expected, telling Meta she wasn’t going. It wasn’t that Meta wouldn’t be an excellent pick, but they were going to be facing New Men, maybe Strand, maybe Balron and possibly Erills. On no account did he want his wife there for that. He’d be too worried about her to strike as hard he could when the moment came. Meta had argued with him—

  “No is no,” Maddox had finally told her.

  Meta had searched his eyes and nodded. “You come back to me,” she said.

  “Of course,” he’d said.

  “No, Captain Maddox. You come back,” she’d said, as tears had glistened in her exquisite eyes.

  He’d decided on Sergeant Riker, and two marine combat specialists, and now was going try to persuade Ludendorff rather than try to force the man.

  Once more, Maddox rapped his knuckles on the hatch.

  The hatch opened a second later. Ludendorff stood there in a rough coat and shirt, pants and heavy boots, and with a pack on his back.

  “Where are you going?” Maddox asked, perplexed.

  “You want me to join the expedition, I presume.”

  Maddox blinked. “Just like that, you’re coming?”

  “I was joking earlier. I’ve waited a long time for this. I’ve packed several items I suspect will be useful. Are there any objections to that?”

  “None whatsoever,” Maddox said. “Are you ready?”

  Ludendorff nodded.

  “Then let’s get down to the hangar bay.”

  ***

  Deck workers exited the parked fold-fighter. It looked like a giant tin can, with plenty of antennae sprouting from it and with absurdly tiny wings bolted to the sides.

  Once, the fold-fighter had been an experimental craft. These days, many motherships had several, and some battleships had one. Victory possessed two.

  Maddox and Ludendorff were the last to enter, the main hatch closing behind them. They crawled to their spaces, strapping in, the craft packed with heavy EVA suits and equipment so they could survive the Library Planet’s harsh surface temperatures.

  “You’re really sure you’re going to need me on this one, sir?” aging Riker asked from his location.

  “Not sure at all,” Maddox said. “What, are you afraid to go?”

  “If I am afraid, can I leave now?”

  “No…” Maddox said after a moment. “If you’re afraid, that’s probably for the best. We need someone with a different point of view from the rest of us.”

  “That old rawhide is afraid?” Ludendorff asked from across the cabin. “Huh. I always thought he was too stupid to know better.”

  “I’m stupid for still being in the service,” Riker said. “I should have retired ages ago.”

  “So why haven’t you?” Ludendorff asked.

  Riker muttered under his breath.

  “I can’t hear you, old man,” Ludendorff said.

  Riker ignored the Methuselah Man as he closed his eyes and snuggled back as if to sleep. With his eyes closed, he said, “Wake me up when we land. I could use some extra shuteye until then.”

  Keith was rubbing his hands as sat in the pilot’s seat. He was the only person sitting comfortably, without any gear pressing against him. “This is it, gentlemen. Get ready for liftoff.”

  The small ace tapped a few controls; the tin can gently rose from the hangar bay deck. All the personnel must have cleared out, for now the fighter eased toward the opening exit.

  “Yes, siree, Bob,” Keith said. “This one is going to be fun, a riot, I tell you. Luckily, you have me to get you there. So you have to know that nothing can go wrong. Are there any naysayers?”

  No one spoke up.

  “Right,” Keith said, as he studied his flight screen. “Let’s get a little distance from the starship. Then, we’ll rock and roll, as the ancients used to say.”

  -71-

  Lieutenant Commander Valerie Noonan sat in the captain’s chair on the bridge of Victory. It was good to be sitting here again. She looked around the bridge, feeling at home, feeling expansive. The Tarrypin was so small, so cramped. She wasn’t sure she liked running a darter. If she was going to remain an independent commander, she wanted a larger vessel, one with some firepower.

  Valerie sat back, surprised at her feelings. Didn’t she like independent command? I do, I do like commanding. She frowned thoughtfully. Did she miss Victory, the people in particular?

  “What are you thinking, Valerie?”

  She started and glanced to the side. “Oh, hello, Galyan. How are you?”

&n
bsp; “I am fine, but I am worried about the captain and Keith.”

  She frowned more, realizing she hadn’t been thinking about them. She eyed the main screen, seeing the tiny tin can contrasted against the nickel-iron mountains of the third planet. Swiveling her chair, she asked Andros, “Are they receiving the fold data?”

  “Yes, sir,” Andros said. “However, Keith has requested a probe for a last look at the second planet.”

  “By all means,” Valerie said.

  “Probe launching,” Andros said.

  Valerie eyed the main screen, watching the even smaller probe leave the starship and race for the planetary horizon.

  “You never did say, Valerie. What are you thinking?”

  “Not now, Galyan,” she said.

  “Were you thinking how lonely you have been away from the bridge?”

  Valerie turned sharply to stare at the holoimage. “How did you…?”

  “My psychological profile on you is still up to date, Valerie. I wished to check, however. I see there was no real need. You should return to Victory for good. The others miss you.”

  “What about you?” Valerie asked, unable to avoid the question.

  “I miss you most of all,” Galyan said. “It is good to have a rational counterweight against the captain’s proclivity for rash actions. I hope saying that is not against regulations.”

  “This is odd,” Andros said.

  Valerie turned away from Galyan, sitting forward. “What’s wrong, Chief Technician?”

  “See for yourself, sir,” Andros said, as he manipulated his panel.

  Valerie studied the main screen. The image changed, and she was watching the five-kilometer wreck. “What am I supposed to see?”

  “The speck of light,” Andros said. “See, it’s already approaching the planet.”

  The probe-sent picture on the screen changed as Andros used a zoom shot. Valerie and others saw a pulsating ball of light.

  “Balron,” Galyan said. “It is Balron. Alert the tin can.”

  “I’m sending the message,” Meta said from her station. She tapped her board, tapped again and then cursed at it.

  “What’s wrong?” Valerie asked.

  “Communication has jammed,” Meta said. “I can’t get the message through.”

  “I’ve lost my telemetry link with the fold-fighter,” Andros said.

  Valerie jerked around to stare at the main screen. The ball of light—Balron—reached the planet and zipped around it, crossing the horizon so he could presumably see the starship and maybe the tin can. He ceased movement at that point.

  “What’s Balron doing?” Andros said. “Yikes. He’s sending data to them.”

  “What?” Valerie asked, incredulous.

  “Balron appears to be mimicking my telemetry link,” Andros said.

  “Galyan,” Valerie said. “Get to the tin can. Tell them what’s happening.”

  “Yes, Valerie,” Galyan said, as he disappeared.

  Several things happened at once then. The tin can vanished. The probe showed the wreck shining with intensely bright light. Galyan reappeared on the bridge.

  “What happened?” Valerie shouted. “Did you get bounced back from the tin can?”

  “No,” Galyan said. “The tin can folded before I could reach it. They are gone.”

  Valerie stared at the main screen. Balron had reversed direction, and now traveled back around the planet the way he’d come. Almost immediately, he started back for the wreck.

  The wreck ceased shining like a mini-star. Before, it seemed like just an old piece of stellar junk. Yet out of the wreckage, a ray of light speared. It must have struck the probe, because the wreck disappeared from the main screen. In its place was the old image of the third planet, but without the tin can before it.

  “What just happened?” Valerie shouted. “Will someone tell me what happened?”

  “Valerie,” Galyan whispered.

  “What?” she shouted back at him.

  “Captain Maddox would tell you to calm down,” Galyan said. “He would say that he can hear you just fine. I would suggest that your shouting is making everyone else nervous.”

  Valerie stared at the holoimage. She wanted to shout at him. Then what Galyan had said penetrated. She gulped air, forcing herself to act calmly. “Okay people,” she said in a softer voice, “let’s see if we can figure out what Balron and the wreck just did, and if they managed to interfere with the fold.”

  -72-

  The tin can vanished in what seemed like a normal fold, the only unusual aspect being that Keith planned to zip through the third planet in order to reach the second planet’s surface ice. At per the captain’s orders, the tin can would appear just a few meters over the nightmarish ice.

  A fold was much like a jump, where a craft or ship moved between two locations without traveling through the intervening territory or space. That was what allowed the tin can to move “through” the third planet. Technically, it did no such thing. It folded from one spot in space to another and it mattered not a whit what stood between the two.

  A fold like a jump was the next thing to instantaneous. The occupants of a tin can or starship did not feel anything during the transition. There were reactions to such events to be sure, lag in the body and mind, but those reactions were not felt during the near instant of fold or jump but afterward.

  This time, however, things were different, much different. Keith pressed the transmit button, and the tin can folded out of its space—

  A sheet of light flooded the tin can, coming through Keith’s screen. The tin can shook, and the occupants felt it. The shaking worsened as the light began to pulsate and then oscillate through the various colors of the spectrum. The light went from yellow to orange-yellow, orange to red-orange, red to violet-red to violet to blue-violet, blue to blue-green to green to yellow-green and then back to yellow as the process repeated itself. The cycles quickened and began to pulsate with tastes, with physical sensations and then with the grumblings of munching sounds of a great beast devouring metal, bones, flesh and plastic.

  “This…shouldn’t…be…happening…” Keith shouted, his voice bleeding new colors into the ongoing cycle.

  Ludendorff gagged, with his eyes wide and staring.

  Riker flexed his bionic hand, laughing wildly as tears leaked from his eyes.

  One of the hand-to-hand combat specialists wrestled with himself, one hand trying to gouge out his eyes while the other strained mightily to stop it from happening.

  The second specialist was curled up in a fetal ball as he tightened his muscles to such an extent that he started to sweat and groan from the effort.

  Maddox had cocked his head, listening for a sound he had not yet heard. The sixth sense in him felt queasy and troubled. The tin can was going through a zone no human had ever negotiated before. It was questionable whether any of them would survive, particularly if this continued much longer. There was something else…something troubling him. Yes… He had felt this presence before.

  “Balron,” Maddox said.

  The word streamed from his mouth, the color snaking and twisting past the oscillating and pulsating colors of the spectrum coming from Keith’s screen.

  “Balron,” Maddox said again, adding to the snaking color’s thickness. “Balron, Balron, Balron.”

  “You’re…doing…something…mate,” Keith shouted. No colors poured from his mouth this time.

  The tin can jerked and swerved in the bizarre zone that no human had ever traversed before. The shaking intensified even as the pulsating and oscillating colors dimmed and then vanished abruptly.

  And with that, the tin can appeared in a place where an eerie music penetrated the bulkheads. The music was clearly otherworldly and surreal, and it grated against the minds of the six men.

  Ludendorff’s eyes narrowed and then shut. He appeared to struggle to remain awake, but moments later, he snored, sleeping deeply.

  Riker simply conked out, his bionic hand sti
ll at last.

  The wrestling marine was not so lucky. He heard the music consciously, and he screamed and thrashed in his spot as his two hands choked him, throttling off his air and continuing to do so even as his heart gave a great spasm. His hands relaxed then, but it was too late, as he died, although not from asphyxiation, but from a severe lack of a will to live.

  The other marine remained in his fetal ball, but his muscles no longer strained to tighten him even more. He giggled in his sleep as happy events filled his dreams.

  Keith’s head was slumped to the left, his breathing hardly detectable. He was poised on a knife’s edge between life and death as grim nightmares waited in a dread abyss while white drifting clouds beckoned him with heavenly music. He needed to choose, but it was questionable which would give him life and which death, for he might never want to waken from a dream about a perfect heaven…

  Just like before, Maddox differed from the others. He heard the eerie music, his brow concentrated as he attempted to decipher its meaning. There was no thought of sleeping. His sixth sense told him he’d arrived in a place different from anywhere else he’d ever been.

  He realized he had felt this before…not so very long ago. He’d fallen through a similar realm, and then had sailed upward and then struggled like a mountain climber in a dream.

  Unhooking his restraints, Maddox struggled upright. He moved like a sleepwalker between the EVA gear and equipment. He headed for the hatch. Balron was waiting for him. Balron would finally tell him…

  Maddox paused. He wasn’t sure what Balron would tell him. He checked his belt, seeing that he had the scatter-light gun and a regular blaster. He checked a boot top. There was an ordinary knife hidden there, a good combat blade, although not anything as good as the monofilament blade. Lastly, he unhooked a Ludendorff-constructed headband. With a sure move, Maddox put the band over his head and switched it on so it buzzed softly.

  He no longer sensed Balron, as he’d severed the link with the anti-telepathic device attached to the band.