The Lost Tech

by Vaughn Heppner

  Anyway, that didn’t matter here to Ural. “Strand,” he called. “I’d like a word with you.”

  The prison was large, giving the Methuselah Man many rooms and devices to while away his days. He was deadly dangerous, but it was for moments like this that the New Men had let him live. Strand knew so many things no other human did. He was a resource to tap.

  A door slammed somewhere deeper in the prison complex. Footfalls neared and an old man muttered as if crazy. Then, a wizened dwarf shuffled into the room. He had hellish embers for eyes and scraggly whiskers. He wore a long black robe like an ancient monk from the Middle Ages, minus a cowl. A cord was wound around his waist.

  The wizened Methuselah Man stopped, and the craziness faded from his eyes. “Golden Ural has come to visit me. That is interesting, interesting indeed. Have you dined?”

  “Yes,” Ural said, noticing a strong sour odor emanating from Strand.

  “I haven’t. So sit, if you wish to speak to me.” Strand shuffled to a small table, pulling out a chair, sitting. He began to extract protein bars from his pockets, along with a small flask that he uncorked. It smelled like whiskey. “Sit, sit,” Strand said, indicating another chair.

  Ural came forward, noting that the sweaty dank odor obviously came from Strand. He pulled out a chair, sitting across from the Methuselah Man.

  Strand’s eyes swirled as he chuckled. He unwrapped a protein bar, gnawing off a hunk and chewing with his mouth open. “Excellent, most excellent,” Strand said, with crumbs spilling from his mouth. He sipped from the flask, belching afterward and using a sleeve of his robe to wipe his mouth.

  “Are you feeling well?” Ural asked.

  “Perfectly fine,” Strand said. “Why do you—ask?” He chuckled, biting off another hunk of protein bar, chewing noisily.

  Ural watched and began to nod.

  Strand eyed him, and he sneered. “What do you think you know about me?”

  “That this is an act. How long have you been practicing it?”

  “Ask one of the jailors, the observers. I can feel them watching all the time. And yes, it has started to get on my nerves. Why, do you think that shows in how unwell I’m not holding up?”

  Ural snorted. “Have you gotten used to your own stench then?”

  “Do you mean can I still smell my farts? The answer is yes. They’re not like yours, either, and don’t smell like roses.”

  “Bitterness suits you,” Ural said.

  “Bah! What can you know about bitterness? You’re living in a fantasyland, serviced by a thousand beauties at the snap of your fingers. You can rut and play all day and then go out and defeat anyone you choose. And do you know why this is?”

  “Because we’re better than everyone else,” Ural said.

  “That’s one way to say it. The other is that I made you the way you are. In other words, I gave you paradise. I did the heavy lifting. And like most people, you bite the hand that feeds you. This—” Strand raised a hand, gesturing around him— “is the thanks I get. I’m imprisoned in case you ingrates get into trouble and need someone smart to bail you out.”

  Ural eyed the nasty little dwarf, wondering how the Methuselah Man had gotten this way.

  “Ha-ha! Am I right or am I right?”

  “You’re right,” Ural said.

  Strand was about to pop the last of the protein bar into his mouth but stopped halfway there. He set the uneaten morsel on the table, pushed it away and picked up the flask. He sipped, swirling the whiskey in his mouth, turned and spat the contents onto the floor. He corked the flask and slipped it into a pocket. “Honesty from Golden Ural: who would have thought it?”

  “I surprised you. Well, that’s something at least.”

  “It is, it is surprising, at that,” Strand said.

  “But to soil your quarters…” Ural said, indicating the spit stain. “That seems to be going too far, even for you.”

  “Bah! What do you know about excellence? I know, I know. You’re going to prattle on about being magnificent in your own right. That New Men by their nature always strive for excellence. You would even have a point. But you wouldn’t understand what I’m saying.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That I’m an artist, and you and your brethren are journeymen at best.”

  “What about Professor Ludendorff? What is he?”

  “Ludendorff?” asked Strand, laughing. “What does that old charlatan have to do with anything?”

  Ural kept himself from nodding. He caught the tightening around Strand’s mouth before the man smoothed it away. The whiskers almost hid it, but not quite. He’d surprised the Methuselah Man again and given him cause for worry. So…it would seem that Ludendorff frightened Strand in ways the New Men could not. Why is that?

  “Is Ludendorff an artist like you?” Ural asked.

  Strand brayed like a donkey. He gripped the table edge and brayed laughter again. “That old codger, an artist like me? Don’t make me puke. He’s a craftsman at best. But an artist, a genius, even a protégée—never!” Strand said the last with vehemence.

  Ural looked down his nose at Strand, pondering the best way to proceed. The little dwarf did have a point. He frightened the Emperor and maybe even frightened him, Ural. The Methuselah Man had been a cruel master to them, but he had given them incredible gifts.

  “Why do you ask about the craftsman?” Strand said.

  “Eh?” asked Ural. “I’m still trying to understand what you meant earlier about excellence—that we superiors lack it.”

  “Acting, you fool,” Strand said. “If you’re going to act—to bluff, if you prefer—then do it one hundred percent. That’s why I soil my quarters: to give it everything, to make my act utterly believable. The problem is that you more than most of your ilk know my mind is like a steel trap. It will be the last thing to crack, to dissolve. You may be stronger, faster and prettier than me, but my mind is like a laser and yours an old-fashioned lantern—unfocused and inefficient. My knowledge is still supreme. I know that’s why you’re here, as there is no other logical reason. Now, you bring up that patsy Ludendorff. What did the fool tell you?”

  Eager, Ural realized. Strand is eager for the information. The Methuselah Man must be bored out of his gourd. He was likely going stir-crazy. Maybe Strand had even lost hope. That gave Ural hope that he could wheedle something important from him.

  Strand grunted, folding his arms across his scrawny chest. He lowered his head, peering at Ural with those hellish orbs. “I’m waiting. If you think you have greater patience than me, then think again.”

  “I have a phrase for you,” Ural said. “Are you ready for it?”

  Strand merely grunted.

  “Memnon Zees,” Ural said.

  It took a second. Then Strand’s head straightened, and his eyes widened. He didn’t bother to pretend he wasn’t surprised but whistled between his teeth. “Well, well, well,” he said. “Isn’t that interesting? Yes, interesting indeed. Memnon Zees, is it? I haven’t heard that for a long, long time.”

  “Clearly, you know what Ludendorff means by it.”

  “Clearly,” Strand said.

  “What does it mean?” Ural asked.

  Strand laughed, shaking his head. “You can do better than that.”

  Ural debated with himself. “Do you mind if I tell you a story first?”

  “Talk all you want. I ain’t going nowhere.”

  Ural nodded, and he told Strand about the mobile null region that spewed asteroids at Olmstead, smashing the planet to pieces.

  During the telling, Strand’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded several times as if confirming a suspicion.

  At last, Ural finished the tale, and waited.

  Strand was slouched in his chair, chewing on his lower lip. He asked slowly, “So who controls this fabled mobile null region?”

  “Star Watch believes Lisa Meyers or her people control it.”

  “By Star Watch you mean that bastard Maddox, don’t you?”
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  “I do,” Ural said.

  “Why would Meyers or her people be launching asteroids at populated planets?”

  Ural told him about Meyers’ manifesto and how she wished to cleanse the universe of all humanity.

  “I’ll give her this,” Strand said with admiration, “the bitch has class. She’s a loon, but she has style in spades. She’s dangerous, of course. That she’s wielding the mobile null region as she is points to considerable knowledge. I didn’t think the she-witch had it in her.”

  “I think the Yon-Soth ray has corrupted her thinking,” Ural said.

  “Yon-Soth, oh, well, you’re full of surprises today, aren’t you?”

  “I thought that might get your attention.”

  “Indeed, indeed. Now I need to hear more.”

  “Certainly,” Ural said. “First, I want to know what ‘Memnon Zees’ means.”

  Strand inhaled deeply through his nostrils, exhaling through his mouth.

  Ural kept his features frozen even as the foul breath washed over his face.

  “It can mean several things,” Strand said slowly. “One of them means a draining and stealing of memories.”

  “And?”

  “And that’s it for now. Tell me more.”

  “I need some incentive to do that,” Ural said.

  “You want my help, right?”

  Ural nodded.

  “Well, if you don’t continue talking, you don’t get my help. How’s that for incentive?”

  Ural stood, dipped his head and turned around, heading for the hatch. Strand did not call out. Ural reached the hatch and pounded on it with a fist. Seconds later, it opened. Ural did not bother to turn around and tell the Methuselah Man this was his last chance. Instead, he strode through the opening.

  Strand began laughing.

  Ural stopped, turning around.

  Strand pointed at him. “Nice. I’d even go so far to say that it smacks of excellence. That’s what I mean by a one hundred percent performance. You’re really leaving. You’re going all the way. I like that. Now, why don’t you tell me more, and then I’ll tell you want I can tell you.”

  Ural hesitated. “No. You speak first.”

  “Look,” Strand said. “It’s obvious you want me to tell you how to reach the mobile null region. Clearly, the bitch is going to stone Earth. Maddox wants to stop her. However, he can’t do that if he can’t find the mobile null region and get into it. I doubt he could stop her once he reaches the interior world—oops,” Strand said, tittering as if he was indeed crazy. “I let that one out of the bag, didn’t I?”

  “Excellence,” Ural forced himself to say.

  Strand blinked several times, finally smiling. “That’s right. It was an act. I almost fooled you with it, too. Now come on back in. Let’s finish the talk.”

  Ural returned to the prison chamber, the heavy hatch closing behind him. He sat back down at the table. “There’s more to Memnon Zees, isn’t there?”

  “Much more,” Strand said in an evil tone. “How did you learn about it?”

  “Ludendorff told Maddox, who told the Emperor via a long-range Builder comm.”

  “Huh,” Strand said. “So, after all this time, Ludendorff finally remembered. That’s interesting in and of itself. And that means…” His voice drifted away as a grim light seemed to shine in his strange eyes.

  Ural felt a moment of fear, and that was odd. What was this bitter ugly creature going to suggest that could cause fear?

  “I’ll tell you about the mobile null region,” Strand said, “how to detect if from our universe and how to penetrate through onto the other side. First, you tell me what I’ll get in return. If it’s good enough, I’ll agree. If it isn’t, I’ll suggest you keep offering until I find something I like.”

  “This is the big one, isn’t it?” Ural said. “This is what you’ve been waiting for.”

  “Could be,” Strand said.

  What Ural hated was that a real calm was settling over Strand. He didn’t know what it meant, but he didn’t like it. “I’ll have to speak to the Emperor again.”

  “You do that,” Strand said. “But remember, you might not want to wait too long, if you know what I mean.”

  Ural stood once again. Then he turned, wondering if this was it felt like making the proverbial deal with the devil.

  -37-

  As Golden Ural spoke to Strand on the Throne World, far away in the Solar System a situation began that would have far-reaching consequences.

  It occurred in the Oort cloud roughly 3,000 AUs from Earth, far beyond the orbit of Pluto. An AU was approximately 150,000,000 kilometers, the mean distance from the center of the Sun to the center of the Earth.

  The Oort cloud contained a mass of predominantly icy planetesimals that surrounded the Sun from distances ranging 2,000 to 200,000 AUs. There were also dwarf planets, comets in abundance and even some asteroids.

  No one belonging to Star Watch observed the present situation. Interestingly, there were asteroids missing from this region, small ones compared to those in the 82 G. Eridani System, but gone from their expected locations nevertheless.

  An odd electromagnetic shift occurred, which produced wavering in the very fabric of space-time. The wavering did not last long, but long enough that an icy planetesimal five kilometers by seven and a half by seven and a half appeared. The planetesimal was a dirty white in color and contained stony debris, and moved at 75,000 kilometers per second, or one-quarter the speed of light. It flashed in-system on a collision course with Earth—or where Earth would be in nearly 70 days.

  The faster-than-a-speeding-bullet planetesimal would take 2,000 seconds, or 33.3 minutes, to travel one AU. Since it had 3,000 AUs to cross, that mandated the almost-70 days of flight.

  More wavering in space-time happened, and a larger rock or a tiny asteroid appeared. It also rushed in-system toward Earth at 75,000 kilometers per second.

  Afterward, disruptions to the fabric of space-time ceased.

  Hours fled. A day, two days and finally four days after launching, an outer Patrol vessel discovered the fast-traveling icy planetesimal. The ship’s captain sent a flash message to Pluto, which took time, but the message caused a stir among those manning the Long-Range Builder Scanner. At the orders from the Lord High Admiral, the observers turned the scanner upon the Oort cloud. They found the two speeding objects, but no sign of what had launched them.

  Cook studied the data at his headquarters in Geneva, Switzerland Sector on Earth, spoke with his team, and then ordered a flotilla of Conqueror-class battleships into action. They used a star-drive jump, maneuvering into place in the Oort cloud before the icy planetesimal and the following small asteroid.

  The battleships launched a flock of nuclear-tipped missiles. Without any trouble, the missiles reached the designated point and detonated on schedule. The icy planetesimal blasted apart from the nuclear fire, part of the body consumed in the heat. The other particles dispersed as they continued their journey toward the general vicinity of Earth.

  The battleships anticipated the debris, beaming the particles with a vengeance, devouring the icy pieces until there was nothing left.

  The battleship captains conferred via their comms, the commanding commodore gave her orders, and the battleships used their star-drive jump to maneuver ahead of the other small asteroid. They began a similar operation, soon blasting and partly devouring the mass of ores and stone with nuclear firepower. The beaming of the particles took longer, but by their timely actions, the battleships saved Earth from the nefariously launched objects.

  Star Watch personnel inside Pluto continued careful scanning in order to find the source of the attack, soon discovering a strange electromagnetic disruption to the fabric of space-time. The disruption occurred 2,972 AUs from Earth, closer than the earlier launchings, although those in Pluto did not know that. The Star Watch team on Long-Range Builder Scanner operations observed a Bismarck-class battleship slide into space-time near the disruption.
A fast scan showed it was the missing Battleship Koniggratz from the 82 G. Eridani System.

  Someone aboard the Koniggratz sent messages and then launched a buoy. Soon thereafter, another disruption to the fabric of space-time occurred as the Koniggratz slid out of existence at that location, disappearing from sight.

  In due course, a Star Watch vessel received the transmitted verbal message apparently from someone named Surbus. He stood proudly on the bridge of the Koniggratz, wearing Merovingian armor and holding a Greek-like hoplite helmet in the crook of his thickly muscled arm. Instead of a horsehair crest, a nest of antennae sprouted from the helmet’s top. He had a bald shiny head, cruel and rather heavy features and a dense neck with sloping shoulders. He was clearly a Bosk, a big man with black eyes. He stared into the screen, speaking deliberately.

  “I am Surbus, and I have the ability to destroy the Earth. The icy planetesimal and small asteroid were merely demonstrations. They were sent on an intercept course with Earth, and would have caused terrible destruction upon impact. However, they were small and distant. I will use much larger and closer objects if you do not meet my demands. Surely, by now, you know that the planet Olmstead no longer exists. I destroyed it. I also picked up this nifty battleship, formerly known to you as the Koniggratz.

  “Have I renamed the vessel? Not at this time,” Surbus said with a sneer. “Have I captured or slain the crew? Yes, in unequal parts. Some live to serve me. Some died most gruesomely. The truth is that I have so much to do and so little time to do it in. You of Earth have terrorized Jarnevon and its people for too long. I seek revenge for what you have done. And yet, I have asked myself, what happens after I have wreaked havoc upon the Earthlings? Might I not find a better purpose for the ultimate weapon?”

  Surbus smiled, showing thick teeth. “I can destroy any planet in the Commonwealth.” He raised his free arm and snapped his strong fingers. “Like that, a planet is dust, its people no more. I have the power. What would you give me, what would you pay, to prevent that from happening, eh?”