He blinked at her, wanting sexual excess with her, but nervous that maybe he would never gain it again from any other—which would make him her slave.
“Yes,” she said. “That was the final test. You do possess the ability to delay gratification. You understand the consequences of choice. Even though you might yearn to know my embrace, the thought of future actions and feelings gives you pause. If I turn the setting high enough—and I still may, for I would like to feel your rough caress—you would be unable to resist. That you can resist to a degree—Dag, do you wonder why I fashioned you the way I did?”
He shook his head.
She sat straighter, becoming haughty in a regal way. “I have a problem, a mini-rebellion in my Merovingian Corps. No, I’m not talking about you or any of the warriors in the present expedition. I mean elsewhere. I have a…a weapon of wondrously destructive power. A pocket universe, a null region. It is a terrible thing to unleash, but also difficult to deploy. The Builders of old fashioned it. I found it, almost by accident, one might say. However, it has been successfully employed. The property of the null region—” She laughed. “It has terrible, frightful properties, warping the intellect and affections of those who enter the pocket universe. The control unit within the null region deflects some of this, but not enough, not nearly enough. There is another element, the Accelerator. It is dangerous to use correctly, deadly if used incorrectly. At the moment, I am unsure if the current operator is still obedient to my ultimate plan. You are going to check on him, kill him if that’s what is needed, and regain control of it for me. Does any of that make sense?”
“A little,” he said.
“A null region—no, I don’t think that’s the right way to explain it. Tomorrow, you will enter the simulator. If you survive the experience, you will begin selecting your team to undergo the same treatment. Then, and only then, will I explain the next step in the plan. O Dag, for this I’ve molded you. For this, I need you. If you are faithful and successful, the stars are yours for the taking. If you fail, however…”
“I will not fail,” he said.
She studied him. “We shall see, O Champion. We shall most certainly see.”
-32-
Professor Ludendorff clicked upon a keyboard. He was in hiding in his science laboratory, away from the others and their snide insinuations and glances. He stared keenly at the screen as his armies marched across the computer landscape. He’d been in here for hours already, failing to fall asleep, tossing and turning instead as he tried to penetrate the mystery in his memories. Finally, he’d gotten up and turned on the computer.
He was sure about the Builders having designed a mobile null region. He was certain they’d used it against the Destroyers of the Nameless Ones as he’d told the others. According to his spotty memory, the Builders had only constructed one such mobile null region. There had been something odd about it, something different from other null regions that were, in the end, merely exotic storage facilities.
Ludendorff stared at the screen as the computer armies finished their move. A second later, he grinned as he typed, moving his First Army against the Orcs at Thunder Mountain. He’d fashioned this army to defeat Orc Hordes and had given it his best computer commander: General or Strategos Memnon Zees. Now, he switched to the tactical screen, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he launched his skirmishers upon the enemy.
Yes. He should have been doing anything but playing a computer game right now. But he was stymied in his thoughts. He didn’t know what to do. So…he’d done the next best thing and gone to his favorite computer game. He’d long ago modified the program, making it three times more difficult than the software designers had been able to do. That was one of the advantages of being a genius. He played the best computer simulations. The bad thing was that he could beat all the games. Thus, he set them at higher and tougher settings, giving them twice as much, three times, four times and then six and seven times the beginning hordes. The wonder to him was that his fantastic computer playing skills didn’t directly translate one-for-one to the real world.
That was most odd, most odd indeed.
For the next half hour, he forgot all about the ancient memory stored in his keen mind. He let himself play, enjoying each melee. Finally, though, his depleted First Army limped off the computer battlefield, having smashed the great Orc Horde.
At that point, Ludendorff sat back and glanced at the chronometer. He groaned softly, chiding himself for wasting precious time. He should have been thinking, sleeping, anything but wasting his life before the computer screen playing these damned games. But often, they were more fun than real life.
He saved the game, hesitated and finally switched off the game computer. He stood and walked about the room. Why did he waste so much time playing games? These games were like a drug to him so he could switch off his mind. Galyan would have said he was zoned out, and the AI monkey-alien would have been right.
He stood at a table, staring at littered parts. He’d lived such a long time, seen so much and tasted many real victories and many defeats, as well. It never ended, though. Life just marched on one day at a time no matter what he did.
“You’re wasting time, old son,” he said to himself. “Blast through to the memory by willpower. That’s what the di-far would do.”
Ludendorff shook his head. Memories and the ability to retrieve them had always made him marvel. The human mind was so complex and enduring.
The Methuselah Man closed his eyes as he stood there. He put his leathery hands on the table and let himself relax. Yes. He’d wasted time at the computer game. Maybe that had let his mind zone out so he could ask it to perform a difficult task for him. Maybe the game had put him in the proper frame of mind. Maybe he needed to waste time in order to do this.
He sighed with his eyes still closed.
A null region was dark, and it drank energy. It stilled life. It was apart from normal time and space. It was akin to a pocket universe. He’d told Maddox that this one traveled along the underside of reality. Most null regions were fixed in position. One of them had been connected to various and quite distant places in real space-time: the one they’d entered that had held the Ska.
Well, that didn’t matter here. The Builders had made this one mobile. It traveled through a nefarious process that he had never perceived, or didn’t believe that he had.
“Long ago…” Ludendorff whispered.
He’d made his bones as an agent for the Builders. He’d received the Methuselah Treatment. A Builder had expanded his mind and changed his body so the DNA would not deteriorate as fast as normal humans’ did. The Builders had been glorious and oh-so knowledgeable. They had been like gods to the Methuselah People. Lisa Meyers had taken it too far, though.
“Lisa,” Ludendorff whispered. “What happened to you? Why did your mind warp into what it is today? Did the Yon-Soth ray cause that, or did the ray merely accelerate a process already at work in you?”
He let his thoughts drift and tried a sneak attack into his memories. The mobile null region: where had he learned about it? Might it have been the time he’d thought about slipping into a special repository of Builder knowledge? Strand had been there. Hmm…there had been something odd about the memory, the moment. What had that been?
A tantalizing image popped into his memories. He had been so much younger then, so keen for mysteries and understanding. He’d spoken to a Builder and later talked to Strand about it…
***
Young Professor Ludendorff was on a dark world 562 light-years from Earth. He was in an underground city and had just met with Strand. The two of them had traded stories, Strand telling him that he’d slipped into the Crystal Oracle Chamber, managing to extract ancient Builder lore concerning human modification.
Afterward, Ludendorff walked the tunnels. Strand always went too far and disobeyed the Builders, but the intriguer knew more than he did about so many things. Maybe he should take a page out of Strand’s book and go to the
Crystal Oracle Chamber himself. He could lift even older lore, outperforming the tricky, boastful sod.
An hour later, young Ludendorff—with his thick wavy brown hair and smooth hands—crawled through an access tube, huffing and puffing as he scuttled his sixth kilometer. He should have prepared better and not gone off half-cocked. What if a Builder caught him? What if that disqualified him from the Methuselah Man Service?
“Is Strand better than you?” young Ludendorff asked himself. “Hell no,” came the soft answer.
Two kilometers later, the heat from the Crystal Oracle Chamber radiated against him in the access tube. He was slicked with sweat, and his clothes were drenched. If he wasn’t careful, he would collapse from dehydration.
Swallowing, easing a wall plate out of the way, Ludendorff wriggled through the opening and found himself in a mighty chamber of shining bright light. He put a hand before his eyes and fiddled with a jacket pocket, finally withdrawing a pair of dark sunglasses. He put them on and heaved a sigh of relief.
Crystal columns rose all around him. They pulsated with amazingly bright hot light. Here, Builders came to deposit and extract knowledge.
Young Ludendorff looked around in awe. He’d seen pictures of this cathedral light chamber, but had never thought in his life to be here in person. It was glorious. It was awe-inspiring.
“Get a grip, son,” he told himself.
Ludendorff swallowed in a dry throat, memorized this location and counted out steps as he wandered past the great crystal columns. He was looking for the oldest columns, which would contain the oldest Builder lore. At last, he reached one that did not shine as brightly nor stand as tall. It was in the center of the chamber, the others radiating outward in a circle: the Builder way of doing it.
Rubbing his hands together, Ludendorff felt for depressions in the column. They were there just as Strand had said. Firming his resolve, Ludendorff began to climb the warm crystal column. It was slow and tedious work, and his heart beat faster. He was slick with sweat and he knew this was a mighty theft. If a Builder learned of this—
“Knowledge,” Ludendorff breathed. He wanted greater and better knowledge than Strand had stolen. This was a mighty dare. What would he learn? How would that change his outlook upon reality?
Young Ludendorff was becoming giddy with excitement. At last, he pulled himself to the top. With a shaking hand, he inserted it into a round opening, where a Builder would insert a special body cord. He thrust his arm as deep as it would go, his fingertips straining, brushing against—
Ludendorff went stiff with agony as memories rushed upon his mind. It was a torrent of ancient Builder lore, speeding into his mind faster than he could intake. His arm jerked out of the round opening, and he spun the arm around and around as he tried to keep his balance on the column.
“No,” he hissed.
He lost his balance, tottering like a felled tree, and he nearly sailed headfirst toward the floor. Before that happened, he shoved upward and outward with his legs, propelling himself up and out. He hung in the air for a microsecond. Then, he plummeted.
He braced himself, bent his knees and smashed against the floor. He crumpled, groaning, certain that he’d broken his feet. He lay there for a time and finally sat up. He bent forward and tested one foot.
A shudder of agony knifed up that leg. He must indeed have broken bones in the foot. He tested the other, the left foot. It was sore, but not with knife-like agony. The right foot must have taken the brunt of the force.
Should he just lie here and let the first Builder find him?
“No,” he whispered.
Thus began a grueling ordeal as Ludendorff crawled back in the direction he believed would take him to the access opening. His mind was a blur as memories leaked away. Other stolen Builder memories stuck, and he was certain he would be able to pull them up later.
He laughed at times, cried at others. Finally, perhaps almost miraculously—
“No, no, I am a Methuselah Man. This is a work of intelligence, not luck.”
In either case, he crawled through the access opening and reattached the wall plate. Then, he began the long, slow crawl through the tube. He was parched, but he would be damned if he was going to let that defeat him after all this. The idea of accessing and remembering some of the stolen memories gave him extra fortitude.
He served the Builders, and he was in awe of them still, but he wouldn’t let the sneak Strand outperform him, not on any day.
The wild part of it was that Strand met and helped him out of the access tube. The slender, dark-haired Strand gave him one bottle of water after another.
“You did it, Ludendorff. I didn’t think you had the balls.”
“You did it?”
Strand laughed. “No. I told you I did it. I wanted to see if you would try too, in order to best me.”
“You lied to me?”
“Of course,” Strand said. “You’re so pathetically naive sometimes. I worry about you.”
Ludendorff stared slack-jawed at the lying son of a bitch.
“This might help,” Strand said.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
Strand pressed a hypo against Ludendorff’s left shoulder, causing air to hiss. Ludendorff knocked the hypo away so it skittered across the tunnel floor.
“You bastard!” Ludendorff shouted, lunging at Strand.
The slender, dark-haired Methuselah Man skipped back out of range and jumped back again as Ludendorff dove for him.
“What did you put in me?”
Strand’s wicked grin broadened into a smile.
Soon, Ludendorff felt his eyelids grow heavy. He saw Strand approach cautiously, finally helping him sit up against a wall. The slender Methuselah Man produced a pouch, pulling a black headband out of it. He slid the band onto Ludendorff’s head. Then, he pulled out a black box, extracted an antenna and switched on the device.
Ludendorff became lightheaded as an essence drained from his mind. His vision darkened and he grew sleepy. He did not fall asleep, becoming dimly aware that Strand was taking the Builder data he’d stolen from a Crystal Oracle column. He heard Strand mutter something. What was it? What did the tricky Loki of a Methuselah Man say?
“Memnon Zees, it works,” Strand said softly.
With that, the ancient memory in its present clarity and vividness began to fade. White-haired Professor Ludendorff found himself leaning against a table in his science laboratory aboard Starship Victory as he stared at a bulkhead.
“Memnon Zees?” Ludendorff said aloud. “Why, that’s the name of my First Army Strategos.”
Enlightenment struck. Ludendorff realized his subconscious had known the answer all along. The computer game had been important after all. But what did ‘Memnon Zees’ mean? If he could figure it out…
“I must,” Ludendorff said. “I absolutely must.”
-33-
Five hours later, Maddox sat on a stool in the professor’s science lab, listening to the man recount the old tale of him as a young Methuselah Man on the Builder Dark World as he raided the Crystal Oracle Chamber. Ludendorff finished the story by telling how Strand had said, “Memnon Zees, it works.”
“Was that Strand’s first treacherous assault against you?” Maddox asked.
“No,” Ludendorff said. “I mean, yes, it must have been. I never knew about it until today. I didn’t remember anything afterward at the time. I woke up, as it were, finding Strand helping me down the corridor. ‘What happened?’ I asked him.
“‘You must have tried to enter the access tube,” Strand told me. ‘It zapped you, you broke your foot—I don’t know how—and I found you unconscious on the floor.’”
“‘Then I’m lucky you came along.’
“‘Yes indeed,’ Strand told me, ‘before a Builder found you.’”
“In other words,” Maddox said. “He fed you a line of bullshit after draining the ancient Builder memories from you.”
Ludendorff sighed. “I wonder if that wa
s the only time he did that? Might there have been other times he used that confounded contraption on me?”
“I’d say so,” Maddox said. “Sneakiness was his MO from the beginning, but it took you centuries before you found out. Now, though, what does Memnon Zees mean? I imagine you’ve figured it out.”
“I have,” Ludendorff said. “It’s from an ancient language, a borrowed phrase. It means, ‘Stripping the memory.’”
“And how does that help us?”
“The phrase is obvious and doesn’t help as such,” Ludendorff said. “The ancient language is the key. There is a planet far from here, over fifteen hundred light-years and deep in the Beyond. I won’t name the planet or star system just yet. However, I’m certain that Strand has a cache of tech items, possibly another Strand clone in stasis and other objects stashed there. It would be the library I was talking about earlier.”
“What leads you to such a conclusion?”
“Several hints Strand dropped throughout the centuries. I won’t go into that either, as I refuse to let anyone ever strip of me of my secrets again.”
“Meaning, you want to raid the library planet yourself, eh?” asked Maddox.
“Maybe in time,” Ludendorff said. “It’s far off the beaten path, so now isn’t the time to worry about it.”
“Fine,” Maddox said. “What I want to know is how any of this helps us with the mobile null region?”
“I believe I found data concerning it in the ancient Crystal Oracle column I reached in my youth on the Dark World.”
“And Strand has read the data?”
“Most certainly,” Ludendorff said.
“Then we need to speak to Strand.”
The Lost Tech Page 19