The Lost Secret

by Vaughn Heppner

“My job is to help squish it,” Mary said.

  “You want Victory to lead the attack?”

  “No!” Mary said. “You and Victory are staying in Earth orbit. You need to recuperate from your injuries.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Really?” asked Mary, as she leaned toward him. “This will be the first test-run use of the nexus in combination with the Long-Range Builder Scanner. I’m heading for Pluto in a week. There, I’m the Intelligence liaison to Strike Force Three. I’ve asked for Lieutenant Commander Noonan. She’ll join the strike force as the Lord High Admiral’s liaison and Intelligence specialist. She’s been to Omicron Nine and knows more about the system except for you, Ludendorff and Galyan. You and Galyan obviously can’t go, and I doubt Ludendorff would agree. Thus, Valerie is our man—our woman.”

  “She’s the right pick,” Maddox said.

  “I knew you’d agree. Cook wasn’t going to let her go unless you did.”

  “That’s a first. I don’t understand why.”

  “You can ask him about it later,” Mary said. “The reason you’re here is to give me advice about dealing with the Yon Soth.”

  “I’d have to know more about the plan.”

  “I knew you’d say that,” Mary said, handing him a folder.

  Maddox set the folder over the cane, opened it and began to read. The plan was impressive and used the newest Builder items to a tee. There were a few problems, however. He waited until he read the whole thing, finally closing the folder.

  “What do you think?” Mary asked.

  “I have a few thoughts.”

  “Good. Let’s hear them.”

  Maddox told her.

  Mary scribbled on a slate with a computer stylus. “Anything else?” she asked, after he’d finished speaking.

  “That should do it.”

  Mary looked up at him. “Here’s the most important question. How close should the strike force appear to the planet?”

  “It would depend on whether the Yon Soth can control the warped-space bubbles nor not,” Maddox said. “If it can—the entire strike force could be wiped out if it comes in too close.”

  “There’s another problem. We don’t have enough T-bands for all the crews. The Yon Soth was able to project images and thoughts at your crew on Victory. It might do the same or worse to Strike Force Three.”

  “That’s a risk,” Maddox said, as he pinched his lower lip, “maybe making it too risky to attack it now.”

  “I disagree,” Mary said. “Having a Yon Soth there with Venna loose and the Spacers active again—”

  “Possibly active,” Maddox said, interrupting, clarifying.

  “Yes,” Mary said, giving him a professional smile. “Thank you for your time, Captain.”

  Maddox’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s it? I’m dismissed?”

  The smile changed to genuine affection. “I’m glad you’re not joining the strike force.”

  “Valerie is,” Maddox said.

  “You’re fond of her?”

  “I am at that,” Maddox said. “She’s…an excellent officer.”

  “Yes,” Mary said. “Well, I really must get started. We’re in a hurry on this one. Get back to Victory, rest, recover and get set for your next mission.”

  Maddox nodded, rose and leaned on the cane. This was ridiculous. He wanted his old strength back. Smiling at his grandmother, gratified to see her back in the saddle, he turned and headed for the door, realizing he really needed lots of R-and-R this time.

  -93-

  It turned out Star Watch needed more than a week to organize for an assault upon the Yon Soth hiding under the worn-down pyramids on the fourth planet of the Omicron 9 System.

  Star Watch needed three entire weeks and four more days before everything was ready to launch. That was amazingly fast, though, considering what needed doing.

  Weeks before the launch commenced, the Lord High Admiral and Iron Lady needed to choose the commanding officer. For political reasons, they decided on Admiral Vincent Byron III, the dual victor—along with Golden Ural—of the Battle of the Gomez System. He was a Viscount of Flanders, an agricultural world in what had once been the Windsor League. Not so long ago, high-ranking people had pushed for Byron to become the new Lord High Admiral—this was when Cook had been cashiered from the service. Through Nostradamus and Captain Becker’s influence, Admiral Fletcher had gained the post instead, with the dire results of the infiltrations of the Liss cybers, the rise of Nostradamus and the implementation of the Humanity Manifesto Doctrine throughout Star Watch.

  The point was the sidelining of Admiral Byron since that time. With Fletcher’s downfall, Byron’s faction had slowly been gaining political strength. They played on his victory of the Battle of the Gomez System, even if Maddox had guided him throughout the campaign against Lord Drakos and Thrax Ti Ix. The key was that Byron had defeated deadly aliens. Thus, he seemed like the obvious candidate for the strike against Omicron 9.

  “You’ll be watching the attack through the Long-Range Builder Scanner,” the Lord High Admiral told Mary. They spoke in his office in Star Watch Headquarters. “And you’ll be in direct contact with Byron via his Long-Range Builder Communicator. Besides, he has Noonan to nudge him, if that’s needed.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mary said.

  Cook frowned. “Do you have qualms about Byron?”

  “I do, yes. Thanks for asking.”

  Cook glanced at Mary sidelong. “None of that, Brigadier. I’m under heavy pressure to make Byron the commander. So, unless you’re going to fight me tooth and claw about him, I want you to keep your qualms to yourself.”

  Mary sighed, looking away. She’d just received her new posting. Did she want to start by being a pain in the—? “If you want me to, I’ll work with Admiral Byron, sir.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Cook said. “Yes. I want you to. It will make your oversight of this much—it will make your reinstatement easier for certain people to swallow.”

  “I understand.”

  Thus, the planning continued, with the commander of the strike force chosen.

  Admiral Byron III was a tall, aristocratic man in his mid-fifties. He still wore a scarlet uniform in keeping with his Windsor League heritage. He had wavy blond hair and, it turned out, a flair for political intrigue.

  In his office at Star Watch Headquarters, Cook introduced Lieutenant Commander Noonan to Bryon, explaining how she’d survived Omicron 9 while working with Captain Maddox.

  “Maddox?” asked Byron, sounding unhappy.

  “I was the second-in-command on Victory during the Battle of the Gomez System,” Valerie said, perhaps thinking the connection with Byron’s supposedly greatest feat would mollify him.

  Instead, Byron’s manner slipped for just a moment, although he smiled at her quickly.

  “I want you to listen to her advice, Admiral,” Cook told Byron, “especially considering the Yon Soth.”

  “Like the one on the Forbidden Planet?” Byron asked.

  “This one is supposed to have lost much of its intelligence,” Valerie said. “I doubt it will prove as dangerous.”

  Byron stared at her before he asked Cook, “Are you sure we have enough ships for this? A Yon Soth—they’re deadly and ancient as sin.”

  “Given its performance against Victory, you have more than enough ships,” Cook assured him.

  Byron nodded, although he didn’t look convinced.

  Cook glowered past his thundering eyebrows. “You can refuse the assignment if you wish.”

  “No, no,” Bryon said hastily. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Good,” Cook said. “As you’re the obvious man for the job, Admiral.”

  Bryon gave him a toothy but insincere smile. “I’m glad to have your confidence, sir.”

  Cook kept from glancing at Valerie as he cleared his throat, nodding, and the conference continued.

  Thus, three weeks and four days after Mary O’Hara spoke to Maddox about the assa
ult, Strike Force Three was ready to go. The force consisted of seven Conqueror-class battleships with the latest upgrades, particularly with heavy-metal components. There was one mothership with the newest strike and fold-fighters, three destroyers and five escort ships, sixteen ships altogether.

  As the fateful day arrived, Mary O’Hara landed at Pluto. She would work from a subterranean chamber where the main screen for the Long-Range Builder Scanner had been installed.

  The Pluto team had been scanning the fourth planet of Omicron 9. It was the same as when Victory had scanned it: 96.3 percent the mass of Earth and warmer than it should have been, given its distance from the G-class star. There were hardy lichens, an almost breathable atmosphere and shrieking storms that sent rusted dust particles, much like on Mars, to file everything down. That included the nubs of pyramids. Under them—according to Victory’s data—lived the imbecilic Yon Soth.

  The Pluto team had also cataloged the warped-space bubbles. There did not seem to be as many as when Victory had been in the system. In fact, the team had discovered a large open pocket free of them near the planet.

  Mary agreed with the Pluto team leader. This was the right place to appear, a veritable godsend. She debated calling her grandson, seeing what he thought about it.

  Did I ask him when I used to run Intelligence? No. So I don’t need to ask him now. I’m back, and this is my show.

  Mary thus passed the Pluto-team recommendation along.

  Admiral Byron agreed with it, even though Valerie had her doubts. Byron didn’t seem to like her much, however. Intimidated by him—the fact he was a viscount didn’t help—Valerie kept her opinion to herself.

  The transit team at the Builder pyramid—the Earth nexus—set the coordinates as given by the people at Pluto.

  Soon, for the first time, a hyper-spatial-tube opening appeared between Earth and its Moon.

  Due to a sudden case of caution, Admiral Byron ordered the escorts, destroyers and then the mothership to proceed first. The core of the strike force, the seven Conqueror-class battleships, brought up the rear.

  Valerie also had a sudden case of caution. She left the Alexander’s bridge, retiring to a wardroom and donning a radiation suit, complete with helmet. She felt more than a little foolish, but those warped-space bubbles had proven nasty last time. And in truth, she didn’t trust Admiral Byron much.

  In such a fashion, Strike Force Three entered the hyper-spatial tube and zipped in a moment of time nearly 300 light-years: the distance from the Solar System to Omicron 9.

  Meanwhile, Mary O’Hara stood in the operational center of the Builder Scanner chamber inside Pluto, watching the big screen and in real time, waiting for the first success of the new nexus-operational system.

  -94-

  In after-action reports and special conferences, people would ask, “Just how stupid was a so-called “moronic” Yon Soth? They were ancient, called “Old Ones” for a reason. The one lying in wait on the fourth planet must have received advanced warning. What else would account for what happened?

  The hyper-spatial-tube exit opened near the fourth planet into a supposed pocket of normal space, meaning a place devoid of the warped-space bubbles.

  That proved true, but not in the way that the people at Pluto reported it. Instead of warped-space bubbles, the bubbles were more akin to the anti-energy fired by the C.I. Nubilus at the Library Planet System. Did that mean the original warped-space bubbles had something to do with Balron and transferring from one plane of existence to another? Did the warped space allow the anti-energy to fill the bubbles?

  There were no answers yet.

  What was known of what happened to Strike Force Three at Omicron 9 was as follows: the escorts and destroyers departed the hyper-spatial-tube. They exited at varying trajectories, as planned. Each of them struck separate “bubbles” and caused tremendous explosions as the anti-energy mixed with normal matter. The fierce detonations expelled pieces of ships in all directions. Those pieces struck other anti-energy bubbles, setting off yet more eruptions in an ongoing chain reaction.

  The mothership arrived at that point. It survived a bit longer because the earlier ships had cleared some of the bubbles. Soon, however, the same thing happened to the mothership. It plowed into an anti-energy bubble, and all hell broke loose, in the most technical aspect of the term. The mothership had much greater mass than the escorts and destroyers. More pieces and chunks flew everywhere, setting off more explosions and thus clearing more area.

  This meant that the seven battleships appeared with a mass of radiation and EMPs washing over them. Because of the jump, there were no shields to protect the battleships or the personnel in them. There was heavy hull plating, however, including heavy metals in some of the armor. That extra-thick armor made a critical difference.

  In the first two battleships, fully three-quarters of the crews perished within an hour of reaching the Omicron 9 System. In the next battleship, half the crew died. In the last four battleships, however, only one-quarter to one-third of the personnel were killed by radiation poisoning.

  It was a disaster. There was no doubt about that. But the strike force still possessed seven semi-functioning battleships, the best class of battleships Star Watch possessed.

  Then an odd thing displayed on the big screen in the main underground chamber on Pluto. The previous image shifted and changed, showing the extent of the disaster.

  Mary was quicker to grasp the obvious than anyone else on duty at Pluto. Why had the Builder Scanner originally shown a false image? Could the Yon Soth on the fourth planet have caused that? If so, she had several fundamental questions. One, how had he known about the attack? Two, how had he provided a false image?

  Mary immediately recognized Star Watch’s failing. There should have been a reaction force ready near the nexus to send as reinforcements, and perhaps they should have sent scouts through first. They would know better next time.

  That wouldn’t help now, though.

  “Brigadier O’Hara!” shouted a scan tech. “Do you see what’s happening?”

  With a sick feeling, Mary once again looked up at the big screen. To her astonishment, the bubbles were disappearing en masse, apparently converting into regular space.

  “Does the Yon Soth control the bubbles?” Mary asked.

  No one tried to answer that.

  The scan-tech chief gave terse orders, however. He must have seen something else, as the focus switched to a distant object. It turned out to be two million kilometers from the planet and closing. It was huge—

  “It’s a ship,” a scan tech said. “Its radius is enormous, a full fifteen kilometers. That means its mass dwarfs our battleships.”

  “The Severn warship from the Sovereign Hierarchy of Leviathan,” Mary said. “Is it cooperating with the Yon Soth? Is that what this is about?”

  Mary and others were about to find out as the Battle of the Omicron 9 System was about to begin.

  -95-

  Finally coming out of hyper-spatial lag, Lieutenant Commander Valerie Noonan retuned to the bridge of the Alexander. She did so seconds before Admiral Byron clutched his stomach, bent over and vomited an awful green gunk from his gut. He’d taken a heavy dose of radiation poisoning, had ingested an antidote and insisted on remaining on the bridge in command. As he keeled forward, slumping unconscious onto the deck, the decision about what to do next was taken from him.

  It proved a dreadfully bad moment to relinquish command. The bubbles had begun vanishing and a giant fifteen-kilometer warship appeared to be barreling down on them from two million kilometers away.

  “Its main pods are heating up,” the sensor officer said. “The ship has acquired target lock on us.”

  No one said anything about that, although a midshipman shouted for a medic.

  Questions kept piling onto the comm officer from the acting captains of the other battleships.

  Valerie saw the frozen bridge crew and heard the frantic questions from the badly frightened
captains—and their acting captains, in the cases where appointed captains had died. She still wore the radiation suit, although she no longer had a helmet. Glancing around the bridge, she realized that she was in better physical shape than anyone else. She looked around again, saw the dazed faces and the growing despondence. Two medics had arrived and were working on the admiral. This was an emergency, and no one was picking up the ball.

  It’s Maddox time, Valerie realized.

  The medics set the groaning admiral on a stretcher and raced off the bridge with him.

  “The enemy is firing beams at us,” the sensor officer shouted.

  “Steady, there,” Valerie said, as she walked to the command chair, even though her heart was beating so hard she was sure everyone could see the pulses in her neck. “I can hear you just fine. There’s no need to shout.” She sat in the command chair and began to rap out orders.

  Giant heavy lasers struck the lead battleship, burning into its hastily raised shield, immediately turning it red and then brown. Someone over there on the King Frederick acted fast, though, reenergizing the shield so it stabilized for a moment. The heavy-metal components made a world of a difference.

  “This is the acting admiral speaking,” Valerie said. Is this bold, or is this utter overreach? She might have blushed if she’d taken time to think about it. She was too busy directing the fight. “I want each of you to aim your disruptor cannon on Mark Twelve-Sixteen on the enemy ship. We’re going to drill it with unified firepower. Aim now!” She paused to give them time to aim…

  The Severn warship poured out an amazing wattage through its heavy laser beams. Those beams turned the King Frederick’s shield from brown to black. Despite the heavy-metal components, the shield couldn’t last much longer.

  “All fire!”

  The disruptor cannons of the six other Conqueror-class battleships fired. They struck a precise and coordinated spot on the giant warship. The target’s iridium-Z hull armor was thicker than anyone could have imagined. Valerie had expected that, though, having planned for the worst. That was why she’d worn a radiation suit.