Starship Victory orbited the asteroidal-debris cloud, keeping well out of the way of any stray particles. The double oval, ancient Adok starship wasn’t alone in this. There were a dozen space haulers, two giant ones from corporations located in the Commonwealth of Planets. There were thirty-one smaller merchant vessels and an odd assortment of questionable spaceships that could have been designated as pirate ships. There were also two star cruisers, the signature New Man vessel, and two other battleship-sized warships of unknown origin and three former Star Watch vessels. The battleships could possibly have been Brethren ships or former, heavily modified Star Watch Bismarck-class warships. It was quite possible that the former SWS vessels were operated by Humanity Manifesto-believing crews who had decided it was time to leave the Commonwealth and the coming punishments.
Those Star Watch-renegade ships and personnel had nothing to do with Victory’s arrival several days ago. Instead, Captain Maddox had been following a lead, a trail made by Vint Diem the ex-Spacer adept who had eluded the captain on several previous occasions. Maddox had almost captured the adept on Pandora at the Carlota Casino, when a New Man agent had convinced the captain to let Diem go. Diem had once worked for Lord Drakos. Maddox wanted to find out whom Diem worked for now. He also wanted to know why Diem had been on Earth not so long ago.
Victory orbited the debris mass, nearly 500,000 kilometers from the dwarf planet. Lieutenant Valerie Noonan was temporarily in charge of the ship and waited on the bridge for the captain to make his next scheduled call, which was supposed to occur in 52 minutes.
The captain had left Victory 49.3 hours ago, boarding a Tortuga shuttle. Sergeant Riker had gone with him, the only member of the crew to do so.
There was one other matter of notoriety to Tortuga, one less well known. The Brethren had several pieces of advanced and possibly alien technology. The key one in this instance was a jamming device that among other things could keep Galyan from projecting his holoimage more than fifty thousand kilometers into the outer debris field. In other words, Galyan could not help Maddox by projecting himself onto Tortuga.
Strictly speaking, Maddox was not on Tortuga. The dwarf planet had a negligible and quite unbreathable atmosphere. It was like the dwarf planet Ceres in most ways. The captain and sergeant were inside the warren of tunnels and corridors that made up the inhabited part of Tortuga.
As Valerie waited for the scheduled call—when the Brethren would stop jamming for twenty seconds—the captain and sergeant hurried through a dim dwarf-planetary tunnel, heading for an even lower and more dangerous level…
-8-
Captain Maddox led the way as Sergeant Riker struggled to keep up. The captain was a tall lean man with muscles like bands of steel. He was only part New Man, not fully so, as he hadn’t gotten the needed prenatal injections that would have given his skin a golden hue and added to his strength, reflexes and possibly intelligence. He’d absorbed something else recently, however: the spiritual energy of an alien Erill entity he’d slain. That energy gave Maddox even greater vitality, putting him on an equal footing with a New Man in a fist- or knife-fight, for instance.
Maddox wore dark garments and boots, including a short cape and full-face breathing mask that acted like a fish’s gills. It gathered oxygen from the otherwise unbreathable air. He’d purchased a nine-inch knife on Tortuga, having arrived weaponless as per the Brethren’s stipulations. The knife had a curved steel guard to protect his hand. He’d also purchased a powerful slingshot, the bands needing someone with his strength to pull. He had round steel pellets as ammo, and had practiced for a half-hour in the store’s shooting range after purchasing it.
The full-face breathing mask was critical in the dim tunnel, as it lacked breathable air, although the tunnel did possess enough atmosphere that clothes were sufficient protection from the cold.
Maddox and Riker were headed to a lower level, an older one where people practiced unusual customs and habits. The two of them used an old roundabout way that Maddox had discovered yesterday. His discovery had resulted from inflicting painful coercion on a Tortuga denizen. They used the route in order to surprise Vint Diem, in case the ex-Spacer was trying to hide from them in the lower level. Naturally, the captain believed Diem was attempting exactly that.
Among other things, the lower level contained the holding pens for kidnap and sex-trade victims and was home to several exotic drug factories.
As Maddox hurried, he seethed inwardly, certain that Vint Diem knew they were coming. He’d busted a few heads yesterday and had broken three fingers and an arm before the man he’d interrogated had howled what Maddox wanted to know. The captain had a personal reason for wanting Diem, certain the ex-Spacer adept could give him the data he needed to restore his grandmother to chief of Star Watch Intelligence. In other words, Diem would know how to correct the tampering with Mary O’Hara’s brain.
“Sir,” Riker panted from a considerable length behind, using his shortwave transmitter.
The old sergeant wasn’t in the same shape he used to be, and even then, he wouldn’t have been able to keep up with an anxious and swift-moving Maddox. Everyone thought the sergeant should have retired some time ago, but he just couldn’t do it. He had leathery skin, a limp, a bionic eye, arm and hand to replace those he’d lost in an explosion many years ago in the Tau Ceti System. He’d originally worked with Maddox at the order of older, wiser heads in Intelligence, doing so to keep an eye on the impetuous young man and keep him from doing anything too unorthodox. Like the captain, the sergeant wore a full-face mask, dark garments and boots. He hadn’t rated a cape, though.
“Sir,” Riker panted again, “if you’d slow down for just a moment, I’d appreciate it.”
Maddox halted abruptly, turning around, staring through the vision-ports of his breathing mask. Riker was farther behind than he’d realized.
As Maddox waited, he looked around. Miners had long ago chiseled out the tunnel into living rock. They might not even have been human miners, as the tunnel was much larger than it needed to be, and there were no signs of any mechanical units using the tunnels. Humans—Brethren personnel—had installed glow bulbs along the sides thirty-odd years ago. These were now dim, as no one had ever replaced them since their installment.
Riker’s chest heaved as he approached, the old sergeant slowing down. He finally put his gloved hands on his knees, breathing hard.
Maddox eyed the sergeant and then looked around again, his manner more alert. Someone is watching us. The captain hunched his shoulders. Someone watched and—“Down!” Maddox shouted, leaping the distance to Riker and dragging the sergeant to the rock floor.
A flicker of something tiny hissed overhead.
“Why did you do that?” Riker complained. “I hurt my left knee hitting the rock.”
Maddox closed his eyes, reaching out with his Erill-energy-heightened senses. The captain’s masked face turned sharply to the right. He opened his eyes, felt a trigger moving, and shoved Riker away as he rolled in the other direction.
Another tiny thing hissed, striking the rock floor between them and ricocheting away.
“That’s enough of that,” Maddox snarled, springing to his feet.
“Sir, don’t do it. He has a gun.”
Maddox accelerated back in the direction they had come. Someone was following them, taking potshots. Within the full-face mask, the captain grinned harshly. He drew the slingshot. While on the run, he inserted a steel pellet into the synthetic pouch and kept a keen eye out for a target.
There was a flicker of movement ahead.
With a jerk, Maddox dodged left. Something tiny hissed past him, tearing the cloth of his black jacket sleeve.
The flicker of movement—Maddox concentrated on the area ahead. He spied a humanoid shape. The assassin tucked a rifle against his shoulder and aimed carefully, deliberately, as if he possessed all the aces in this fight because he was the only one with a gun.
While sprinting, Maddox smoothly drew back the
tough flexible bands of his slingshot, sighted the assassin and released. The steel pellet flashed across the distance between them. It missed the man, striking the rock beside him. The sound must have made the shooter flinch, however, as the gun barrel rose minutely as something hissed out of it.
The projectile didn’t even come close to Maddox this time.
Did the sound unnerve the attacker even more? The full-face masked assassin turned to his left where the pellet had struck. He eyed the rock too long, for when he turned back toward Maddox—
The captain heard the assassin yelp. Maybe the man hadn’t understood how fast the captain could move. Maddox released the synthetic pouch a second time, the steel pellet striking true, hitting the assassin’s forehead with considerable force.
The shooter collapsed onto the rock floor.
Maddox reached the shooter as the man began to stir. Perhaps he spied the captain’s boots near him. The shooter roared an oath from upon the floor, and then raised his spring-rifle. Maddox kicked, striking the front of the barrel, knocking the weapon out of the man’s hands so it went flying backward.
The shooter began to rise as he reached for a belt knife—
Maddox kicked again, savagely, connecting with the man’s masked chin. In this instance, the captain kicked too hard. The man’s head snapped back as if something rotten and brittle cracked. The man loosed an awful groan as he began to flop about like a dead chicken.
Maddox rushed past the dying man and picked up the spring-rifle, removing the magazine. It had several tiny odd-shaped bullets. The captain removed one, inspecting the tip. These were darts, possibly tranquilizer darts.
Putting the dart back, reinserting the magazine, he raised the rifle, using the scope, peering through the dim corridor, seeing perfectly well now. He aimed farther behind him, following the path back toward the higher level. To his surprise, Maddox saw a black-clad man with a mask. The man was running away even though he had a spring-rifle of his own.
Two assassins—or perhaps kidnappers—had tracked him, one of them cowardly or overcautious.
Thoughtfully, Maddox returned to the dead first shooter. Maddox knelt and tore away the breathing mask. He was nondescript, with a bulbous nose and lank dark hair.
Silently, Maddox checked the corpse, finding no cards or ID. The shooter did have a knife, a Tortuga-bought weapon similar to his own.
Memorizing the type of knife and spring-rifle, Maddox placed them on the corpse. He hadn’t purchased a Tortuga license for firearms, which included spring-rifles, and so he wouldn’t keep this one. Interestingly, the dead shooter hadn’t possessed a license either, at least none the captain could find.
Maddox stood and began heading back to where he’d left Riker. After a moment, the captain said through the short-wave transmitter, “Sergeant.”
There was no answer.
Under the mask, Maddox glowered. “Sergeant Riker, answer me at once.”
The old hand of Star Watch Intelligence did no such thing.
Inserting another pellet into the slingshot pouch, Maddox hurried, straining to see in the dim lighting. There was something small on the floor up ahead.
It was a coin, a gold one.
Maddox picked it up, recognizing it. The coin belonged to Riker. The sergeant figured it as a good luck charm. Riker would never leave this unless—
“A sign,” Maddox whispered to himself.
Clearly, something or someone had jumped the sergeant, but the old Intelligence hand had had enough presence of mind to slip the coin onto the floor…but had not had enough time to use the short-range transmitter to shout a warning. No. That made no sense. Thus, whoever had surprised Riker had used a dampening or jamming device. And that meant—
“A trap,” Maddox whispered. The old roundabout way had been a trap. The kidnappers hadn’t caught him, but they had caught his sergeant.
“Right,” Maddox whispered, his stomach tightening. This had to be a sign that he was on the right track of Vint Diem. With a snarl, Maddox began to hunt.
-9-
The problem was that it was too dim in here for proper searching. Maddox paused, having traveled half a kilometer since discovering that Riker was missing.
Maddox bent his head in thought. He spun around a moment later and began to sprint back the way he’d come. He should have taken the spring-rifle’s scope to see more clearly down here. He ran hard, recognized the location where Riker had been kidnapped, racing past to the spot—
Maddox halted, looking around. The dead shooter and his spring-rifle were gone. Someone had picked them up. He peered closely at the rock floor, soon finding one of the steel pellets he’d fired from the slingshot. This was the correct location.
Scowling, the captain realized he’d been racing one way and then the other, wasting precious time.
“Confused?” a man asked.
Maddox whirled around—surprised he hadn’t heard the cloaked, masked man approach.
“Who are you?” Maddox asked.
The man was big, tall and heavy like a Bosk fighter. He wore a full-face mask, dark garments, cape and boots. He held a knife in his right hand, a darkened blade. The other hand was empty.
“I asked you a question,” Maddox said.
“I know you did. I simply don’t care to answer.”
“Why are you here?”
“That should be obvious: to pick you up.”
“You and who else?” asked Maddox.
“I don’t need anyone else to kick your ass, pretty boy.”
Maddox drew the slingshot from his belt. The big man bellowed, rushing the captain, slashing with the knife. Astonished at the man’s speed—especially given his bulk—Maddox parried with the metal slingshot. The knife struck it, the blow jarring the captain’s hand. The edge also cut one of the bands, rendering the slingshot useless.
“Surrender while you can,” the big man said.
Maddox jumped back as he drew his own knife with a tingling hand. He barely pulled the weapon in time as the big man rushed upon him once more, the dark knife flashing in the dim lighting. Maddox twisted and shifted the knife, the two weapons clanging against each other, each nicking the other blade. Once again, the big man’s strength jarred the captain’s knife hand.
“You can never beat me, pretty boy. I’m faster, stronger and far deadlier than a puss like you.”
Maddox backpedalled and assumed a knife-fighter’s crouch. The man was trying to goad him. Good luck with that.
“I was designed to defeat you,” the man boasted.
Maddox didn’t like the sound of that, but it was intriguing. “Designed how and by whom?” he asked.
The big man laughed, faking a lunge.
Maddox reacted swiftly, blocking where no blow had come. He realized with a shock that the other had shaken his confidence, gotten inside his head a bit. The captain inhaled and exhaled several times. Extreme concentration was what he needed.
“You must realize by now that a higher intelligence has drawn you into a net,” the big man said. “I’m here to pick you up, to tie and cart you to a grim place. There, experiments will commence. You will never be the same, and not for the better, I assure you. Perhaps you’ll walk like a crab for the rest of your existence, using specially elongated lips to eat food, as you will no longer possess arms or hands.”
Maddox’s grip tightened around his knife handle.
“Why so silent, Captain? Are you frightened?”
“Thoroughly,” Maddox said.
“Mock all you want. You cannot defeat me.”
“Do you mind if I try?”
The big man laughed, lunging with lightning speed. For a long two minutes the men engaged in thrust and counter-thrust as they danced and jumped, circling, faking, slashing, clashing blades and panting at the strenuous exertion.
“You’re better than she said,” the big man panted after the two minutes of knife fighting, both of them backing away from the other.
“She?” asked Ma
ddox.
“A slip of the tongue,” the big man said. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I don’t think it was a slip,” the captain said, beginning to circle the other. “I think you just made a mistake. Another mistake, I should say.”
“Another? What do you think was my first?”
“Trying to take me hand to hand.” Maddox shifted sideways. “Pride goes before a fall, they say.”
The big man turned to keep facing Maddox. “I’ve toyed with you long enough, Captain. Now—”
Maddox reached up and unpinned his cape. As the other spoke, the captain flung the cape. The big man shouted and slashed at the black material, momentarily putting him out of position. Maddox slid smoothly like a fencer, lunging to elongate his reach, his notched knife entering the man’s side point-first, sinking to the guard. The big man grunted, using an elbow to smash the captain’s head. Withdrawing the knife, Maddox staggered away. The big man slashed. Maddox barely avoided the slicing blade.
“You bastard,” the man said. “You cut me.”
“No. I killed you.”
“Wrong,” the man said, pressing the wound with his free hand, taking the hand away and staring at the blood. “Now, you will learn—”
Maddox hurled his knife, but it was unevenly balanced, and he’d misjudged the throw. The pommel struck the man on the full-face mask. He stumbled back, his arms wind-milling. Maddox charged and leaped feet-first, striking the man’s chest with the bottom of a booted foot. That hurled the big man off his feet, and he struck his upper back and head on the hard stone floor. The man’s knife flew from his hand and went skittering across the floor in the dark.
Maddox didn’t hesitate, but rushed past the man to the knife, picked it up, turned—
Three tiny darts struck his chest at the same time. He blinked, looked down at his chest and asked, “Was this the plan the entire time?”
The Lost Tech Page 5