The Lost Secret

by Vaughn Heppner

  Maddox did feel a sense of urgency, however, and one of his greatest attributes was to recover his equilibrium with astonishing speed. He was rid of Balron and back in the tin can—right!

  He slapped a switch. The hatch closed with a snap. He pivoted, ran and worked his way through stacked EVA gear and equipment. He had barely slumped into his spot and strapped himself in when the eerie music began again. The tin can shuddered and started shaking. At the same time, colors poured through Keith’s screen, cycling and oscillating at they had before.

  Fortunately, it did not last as long, or so it seemed to Maddox. The colors quit shining, the bulkheads stopped shaking, and the music ceased altogether. The fold-fighter must have appeared somewhere normal because regular fold lag caused the captain to grunt and fall unconscious.

  -78-

  Maddox stirred sluggishly with the worst lag headache he’d ever had. He noticed Keith working the tin can’s controls as if checking their surroundings. Maddox opened his mouth to speak and found he couldn’t form words. He concentrated, and that made his frontal lobe pound, so he bent his head, barely keeping from groaning.

  What had just happened? Something had happened. Balron… Maddox frowned and winced at the increased splitting headache. He had been switching planes of existence, perhaps reaching a dreadful place that had been far too hard matter. Yes, yes. What had happened to him in the Between Realm and elsewhere came flooding back, including that he’d returned to the tin can in time, barely in time.

  “Some might call this the luck of the devil,” Keith said cheerfully. “But I wouldn’t be one of them. I told you I’d bring you a few meters above the surface ice, and that’s exactly what I’ve done. It’s howling outside, the wind trying to shove us against an iceberg. You can be certain I ain’t letting that happen.”

  “We’re here?” Ludendorff asked in a hoarse voice.

  “Right on the dot, old man,” Keith said.

  “I feel sick,” Riker complained.

  Maddox massaged his forehead and fumbled out a first-aid kit. He found two capsules and dry-swallowed them, having to do it twice to get them down.

  “Ah-ha,” Keith declared. “You gents are in luck. I see a metal housing nearby. It will be a short hike there, nothing more. Better start suiting up.”

  At that point, Riker discovered that one of the marines was dead and the other seemed to be in a coma, curled up in a fetal position.

  “I don’t understand this,” Riker said, with fear shining in his good eye. “What would have caused Hendricks to die? He was rated to fold and in excellent condition.”

  “We paused during the fold,” Maddox said with his eyes shut.

  “What’s that you’re saying?” asked Riker.

  “Balron, it has to with Balron,” Maddox said, as he massaged his forehead.

  “Now see here, my boy,” Ludendorff said. “You’re not claiming to have moved in another split-second of time, are you?”

  “We all did—we folded elsewhere first,” Maddox said, opening his eyes. “Do any of you remember swirling colors and eerie music?”

  “Eh?” said Keith, looking up. “That was a dream, nothing but a dream.”

  “It was more than a dream,” Maddox said. “Look at this. I recovered my monofilament blade.” He drew it and showed the others.

  “You claimed to have lost the knife before,” Ludendorff said.

  “I did lose it,” Maddox said. “It fell back onto the C.I. Nubilus when I climbed onto Victory. That’s where I’ve been while the rest of you slept. Balron took me back to the Nubilus.”

  “Impossible,” Ludendorff said, “inconceivable and ridiculous. How can you spout such nonsense?”

  “Let’s not argue about it,” Maddox said tiredly. “It doesn’t really matter anyway.”

  “It matters to the marines,” Riker said.

  Maddox nodded. “You’re right. God rest their souls.”

  “But…” Keith said. “I don’t understand, sir.”

  “I’m not sure I do either,” Maddox said. “We’re here, though. We’ve made it to the Library Planet. You say there’s an elevator entrance outside?”

  Keith stared at the captain.

  Maddox nodded, trying to show it was okay. They were okay.

  Keith cleared his throat. “Yes, outside. The entrance is outside. Should I land by it?”

  “At once,” Maddox said, putting more confidence into his voice. “Land, and make sure the fighter can survive a few hours on the ice. I want you waiting while we explore below.”

  “Now see here,” Ludendorff said. “You claim to have spoken to Balron at some point during the fold. Do you realize how outlandish and scientifically impossible that is?”

  “We can argue about it later, Professor,” Maddox said. “We’re here, your old stomping grounds, remember? The New Men might already be in the deep tunnels exploring. Strand could be with them.”

  Ludendorff’s scowl eased away as he nodded. “Strand. Strand could be with them. Can Balron help us?”

  “Balron is gone,” Maddox said. “We don’t have to worry about him anymore, nor can he help us. We’re back to business, gentlemen. Balron was a strange episode, and—we can talk about him later. I’ll explain all that happened when we have the time. Right now, we have to get our heads into the game of besting the New Men down in the tunnels. We have an advantage. They don’t know we’re here. But they have their own advantages.”

  Ludendorff digested all that in silence, brooding until he brightened. “Not to worry, my boy. We have me, and that should be all the advantage we need to beat them to the prize.”

  Maddox’s forehead still throbbed, but he could move around now. There was one other person down in the tunnels, a woman who had gained an edge due to Balron. There was also a grand prize to gain—the item Balron had said was here. The New Men might not know about the secret item. Maddox hoped to keep it that way and gain it for Star Watch.

  He found some water, guzzled, waited and guzzled again. That helped his head right away, or perhaps the capsules had begun to work. It was time to forget about Balron. They could thrash out what he’d learned about dimensions and between realms later. Right now, it was time to focus on the reason for the mission and see if they could reach the ancient Builder lair under the nightmarish ice.

  -79-

  On the other side of the Library Planet, Golden Ural, Methuselah Man Strand, seven royal guardsmen and seven drop-troopers rode a large elevator into the subterranean depths. They all wore bulky EVA suits and helmets, having staggered from the landed combat shuttles to the chosen metal housing. In an anticlimactic show of technical knowhow, the suited Strand had figured out the correct coded sequence to the controls. The slowdown had occurred afterward, when the elevator halted and the doors opened to a bleak area of dark underground caverns and huge icicles that reflected their helmet lamplights back at them.

  Strand had worked, cursed and tested, as Ural had reminded him that Venna and her team had found a large lit area where they could remove their helmets. Now, the team rode the elevator down again, having picked up speed as it headed ever deeper into the planet.

  “This is strange,” Strand said through his helmet comm. The dwarfish Methuselah Man stood beside the elevator controls.

  Ural stood beside him, watching the EVA-suited man, distrusting him now more than ever. He eyed Strand as the other traced a dot on a grid that had just appeared below the controls.

  Strand squatted to get a better look.

  Ural shrugged and squatted as well, a chore in the bulky suit. “What is that?”

  “A map, clearly,” said Strand. “The dot is our elevator car. See?”

  Ural watched as Strand pointed at the dot and the indicated pathways. “Are we going sideways now?”

  “You noticed, eh?” asked Strand. “Yes, yes, sideways or laterally through the crust. I haven’t touched the controls since we headed down. It’s almost…”

  “What?” Ural asked, suspicious
.

  Strand glanced back at Ural and switched to a two-man channel. “I haven’t been to the planet or system for centuries. I assumed the planet was empty, devoid of Builders. Now, though…” Strand shook his helmeted head.

  “Builders are controlling our elevator car?” Ural asked in alarm.

  “Why did we begin to move laterally?” Strand asked. “Give me a reason, if you can.”

  “To automatically avoid a fissure perhaps.”

  “That’s possible, but that isn’t the sense I’m receiving.”

  “You can sense Builders nearby?” Ural asked.

  “Of course,” Strand said.

  “And you haven’t sensed them until this moment?”

  “Correct.”

  “Why wouldn’t Venna’s group have alerted the Builders?” Ural asked.

  “I don’t have the answer to that.” Strand’s gloved hand traced the grid map. “Perhaps there is more at work than we realize or perhaps the Builders have secretly tampered with Venna’s group. Or perhaps we have competitors for the treasures.”

  “Competitors,” said Ural. “You mean Star Watch?”

  “More precisely, you’re wondering, like me, if Captain Maddox is here.”

  Ural eyed the Methuselah Man. “You brought up the idea of competitors. I simply put a name to them. But the truth is your fear strikes me as paranoid and preposterous. Do you realize the odds of Maddox being on the planet the same time we are?”

  “Better than you do,” Strand said. “I’m the ultimate realist and mathematician. Odds computation is what I do better than anyone else. Look,” the Methuselah Man said, as he pointed at the grid map. “We’re picking up speed.”

  Ural squinted at the dot. It did for a fact move faster than before, although he did not feel any acceleration from the car itself. Strand was getting antsy all of a sudden. Why? What would have caused that? Ural had an idea, a suspicion, and decided to test the man. “Who is Venna really?” he asked.

  Strand’s helmet jerked as if the question startled him. “Why do you ask me that now?”

  “Maybe you know more about her than you’re saying.”

  “I only wish that were true.” Strand laughed sourly. “I’ve come to believe that my years as a prisoner have dulled my perceptions. I’m not as mentally nimble as I used to be.”

  “Or maybe you’re being more realistic about yourself.”

  Strand snorted. “Funny, but you could be right. I do think megalomania in the near past stunted my perceptions. I became too full of myself. Years alone in a cell has a way of focusing one’s thoughts. We may have made a mistake coming here. The Builders are not like us.”

  “The way you say that—you’re suggesting Builders are still on the planet?”

  “I’ve come to believe it’s a possibility,” Strand said.

  “I thought the Builders had passed beyond.”

  “Most have. Does that mean there are no guardians on the Library Planet?”

  “Why wait until now to mention it?” Ural asked.

  “I’m not sure…” Strand said. “It seems as if…as if a mental restraint has suddenly been removed from my mind. I’m thinking more clearly again. Yes. Something has happened. Perhaps Venna tampered with a machine she didn’t fully understand. And that machine is now sending out brain waves. It sounds preposterous, perhaps. It doesn’t have to be Venna. It could have been something else entirely. Ah. There were some strange things at work on the wreck at the third planet. Could that have anything to do with us? I don’t see how, but—”

  The elevator car shuddered. One of the guardsmen called out over the general comm line, sounding afraid. The other suited figures turned and stared at him. Through his faceplate, the guardsman reddened, looking down at his gloved hands.

  “He feels what I feel,” Strand whispered over the two-man channel.

  “Who do you mean?” said Ural. “Are you talking about the coward?”

  Strand shook his head. “That guard is no coward. He’s simply more perceptive than the others. He doesn’t understand but he feels it, and that frightened him. You should be frightened, too.”

  “Are you?” Ural asked, with a sneer in his voice.

  Strand laughed shrilly. “My gut is tightening. Don’t you feel a presence?”

  “No.”

  “I can feel a great intelligence. Yes. It’s studying us and it is not happy.”

  “A Builder?” asked Ural, starting to feel…something—or letting the power of suggestion move him.

  “No…” Strand said. “The intelligence feels otherwise to me. I feel as if it is pondering what to do with us interlopers.”

  Ural tried to sense a presence and failed. The power of suggestion must have influenced him a moment ago. What was Strand’s game? Was the Methuselah Man slinging claptrap? Did Strand have his own endgame in mind? Might this talk about an intelligence be part of Strand’s play?

  “Notice,” Strand said, pointing at the grid map again. “The dot is moving much faster than before. We can see the grid changing shape, with more lines going down.”

  Ural studied the grid. It did move. He had a vague sensation of speed in the actual car. Could an intelligence or Builder be moving the elevator car? That should be easy to test.

  “Stop us,” Ural said.

  Strand glanced back at him through a clear faceplate. “There’s a risk in that. If I attempt it, it might prove to the…the intelligence that we know he’s hijacked our car.”

  “Why would that matter?” Ural asked.

  “Very well,” Strand said with a shrug. He pressed a control.

  Nothing happened. He pressed more controls. As before, nothing happened.

  Strand shook his head.

  Ural rose, glanced at the men—they waited like good soldiers—and studied Strand crouched by his feet. The Methuselah Man did not seem to be playing games. He hadn’t seen Strand touch any secret controls. Could the Methuselah Man have blundered? Could there be a Builder left on the planet, or a Builder guardian? Had Venna awakened whatever seemed to have taken control of the elevator car?

  Ural became uneasy. What could the woman have done? He didn’t believe Maddox was here. That was superstitious nonsense. I’m a superior. I will use my intellect and fighting prowess to defeat all contenders. We will overcome.

  “Could we be traveling around the planet?” Strand asked.

  Ural crouched again, feeling like a coiled spring ready to react. “Give me your best estimate as to what’s happening.”

  Strand eyed the grid map and finally sat down on his butt, rubbing his stretched-out suited thighs. “I don’t know.”

  “Best guess—what is it?”

  The elevator car lurched, and a sinking feeling caused the others to shout in alarm.

  “We’re heading down,” Strand said from the floor. “We’re going down faster than before.”

  “To the mantle?” asked Ural. “Does the intelligence plan to cook us to death?”

  Strand eyed the grid, and he shouted in fear.

  “What?” Ural demanded.

  “The grid map has disappeared,” Strand said. “Listen.”

  Ural did. Through his helmet, there was a whine from outside. “Are we slowing down?”

  “Yes,” Strand said. “That’s exactly what’s happening. I think we’re about to find out what is really going on.”

  -80-

  The elevator car stopped. As it did, Strand scrambled clumsily to his feet. Ural drew a suit blaster. The royal guardsmen and drop troopers did likewise. Strand pressed his gloved palms together before his chest and muttered under his breath.

  Ural could hear over the channel. The Methuselah Man was softly chanting an alien litany. Ural jerked as outer clanks and whirrs sounded from the door. Abruptly, the doors swished open.

  Bright light flooded the elevator car.

  Instinctively, Ural grabbed Strand’s EVA suit. The tall superior shoved the Methuselah Man ahead of him even as he followed, crossing the
threshold into a smooth metallic-floored corridor.

  A loud outer click sounded, and then a strange whine. Thumping sounds came from the elevator car.

  Ural whirled around to see the suited guardsmen and drop troopers thudding onto the floor. They must have fallen unconscious, piling into an unmoving heap. He knew they weren’t dead because their life-monitors on his helmet scanner still showed green instead black. Had an enemy used sonic weapons against them? When Ural tried to go back into the elevator, the doors slammed shut a centimeter from his faceplate.

  Ural jerked around and faced the light. “Separation,” he whispered.

  Strand stood facing the light, shielding his faceplate with his gloves. Why hadn’t automatic polarization of his faceplate occurred? As Ural saw all this, the lights flooding the area grew dimmer until the illumination seemed normal.

  In seconds, Ural realized they’d reached a different kind of area from before. This appeared to be a lobby of some kind. The walls were bulkheads of metal, the floor and ceiling the same, except the ceiling contained embedded lights. There were other closed elevator doors and a central dais in the middle of the room or chamber. It showed glass controls.

  The place was empty. No one visibly threatened them.

  “What now?” Ural asked thickly.

  Strand turned to him, openmouthed. The Methuselah Man seemed shocked, slack and physically weak.

  “Are you well?” asked Ural, who grabbed Strand by an arm.

  Strand sagged and would have fallen, but Ural held him up. A moment later, Strand recovered and must have locked his knees.

  “I’m fine,” Strand said in a hoarse voice. “You can release me.”

  Ural did, and he holstered his suit blaster. He studied the other elevator doors, the central dais controls and the open corridors leading away. “Could Venna be engineering all this?”

  For an answer, Strand reached up, removing his EVA suit helmet. The Methuselah Man took deep breaths, turned and smiled at Ural.