The Lost Tech

by Vaughn Heppner

  “I can give you a reason,” Kris said.

  Maddox nodded for her to tell him.

  “Pure pigheaded human paranoia,” Kris said. “The people I worked with loved the HMD ideals. It fit with all their prejudices.”

  “Hmm….” Maddox said.

  “You don’t agree with me that HMD is monstrous?”

  Maddox shrugged. “If I were a typical person, I wouldn’t like the New Men, either. The Spacers as a group do act strangely. Some of HM Doctrine makes tribal sense. People like others to be like them. It’s a natural reaction.”

  “You agree with HMD?” Kris asked in surprise.

  “No,” Maddox said. “I merely understand that the Liss cybers—when they were in charge—used normal human reactions to divide and conquer. The Liss also twisted prejudices further and began witch-hunts against the other: those like me. I oppose that, of course, and I opposed it at the time.”

  “I know. From what I heard, you slew the Prime Saa, the chief Liss cyber squirreled away on Luna.”

  “Ludendorff and I slew it together,” Maddox said.

  Kris nodded, taking a sip of water.

  “Thank you for your time, Commander,” Maddox said. “I appreciate it. I’m starting to build a mental map of Alpha Sigma 9. It will take a few days for us to reach the star system. I suggest you think about what you’ve told me and see if there’s anything you’ve left out.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Maddox stood. Meta stood with him, and Kris started to rise. “There’s no need, Commander,” Maddox said. “I’m off to the weight room.”

  Kris sat back down, staring at the stars through a nearby viewing port.

  “I’m going to check up on Ludendorff,” Meta said. “I’ll file these notes in your computer after I’m done.”

  “Thanks,” Maddox said. “Later, then.”

  Meta went one way. Maddox went the other, while Kris Guderian sat brooding on a couch in the lounge area.

  -80-

  The Alpha Sigma 9 System was 28.5 light-years from Earth, meaning, it was near, although not right on the doorstep. It boasted a star base on a heavy water moon circling a large Jovian gas giant in the inner system. As such, that was rare but not unheard-of. The binary system had two stars: a giant cool blue one and a tiny hot white one.

  Alpha Sigma 9 was in a strategic location with many Laumer Points and thus with many quick lanes to other star systems. It was a junction system and thereby had several battleships, two Conqueror-class and three Bismarck-class. It had three light cruisers, a dozen destroyers and a mothership with a full contingent of strikefighters as Keith Maker used to fly at Tau Ceti years ago.

  Earlier, Commodore Smits had received the message from Lord High Admiral Cook to send all Conqueror-class battleships to Earth. The two battleships had not left. Smits had said they needed maintenance before they could go. The fact that two such battleships might have tipped the balance in the struggle against 16 Psyche…

  Smits kneaded his forehead as he sat in his office at the star base, which overlooked a valley spaceport. The commodore was a large man with big hands, a sagging stomach and a ring of curly hair around a bald dome. He also had outrageous sideburns and keen dark eyes, worried eyes, right now.

  He’d just received word that Starship Victory was approaching, working its way in from the outer system. He had not received that word from anyone in Star Watch, but from a lean woman sitting in a chair across from his desk.

  The woman was pale, had a buzz cut and wore a dark uniform. It wasn’t a Star Watch uniform, at least, not any longer. It showed that she worked for the former Political Intelligence Division. Colonel Borneo had run Political Intelligence at Alpha Sigma 9 during the Lord High Admiral Fletcher’s term of office. Colonel Borneo was no longer among the living, as Smits had made sure he went before a firing squad in the military prison. That had been taking care of loose ends, as Borneo had far too much damning information about him. Smits had gone whole-hog into HMD dogma at the time and had committed many acts that the new administration under Cook might deem…wrong and maybe even vile.

  “That’s not all,” the woman said. She had brown pitiless eyes and nonexistent eyebrows. Some might have termed her beautiful in a Gothic sense. It didn’t help that she never smiled.

  Smits didn’t remember her from Colonel Borneo’s time. But he was deathly afraid of her, and for good reason. When she’d shown up, he’d ordered his men to arrest her. She’d shaken her head and they had looked the other way. When Smits had drawn a gun to shoot her, the woman had simply told him no. The worst of it was, he’d found himself incapable of pulling the trigger. Finally, he’d slumped in his chair and listened to her news.

  “Commander Kris Guderian is aboard Victory,” the pale woman said.

  Smits looked up. “What?”

  The woman did not repeat herself.

  “Kris Guderian died when Olmstead blew up,” Smits said.

  “Apparently not,” the woman said.

  “Guderian is aboard Victory?”

  The woman waited.

  “W-Why should that bother me?” Smits asked.

  “You tell me. Why should it?”

  “It doesn’t.”

  The woman sneered. She was good at it.

  “Who are you?” Smits asked.

  The woman pointed to the insignia of her black uniform.

  “Political Intelligence is dead,” Smits said. “Your time is over.”

  “Is it, really?”

  Smits put both beefy hands on the desk as he summoned his courage. He was the commodore, the highest authority here. He had threaded the needle concerning…“past mistakes,” and before any of Stokes’s transition-teams had showed up. There was word that Brigadier Stokes was having trouble making certain of the Lord High Admiral’s new rules stick, at least in places where HMD had been powerful. Besides, he’d covered his tracks perfectly. None of Borneo’s people had survived the purge.

  “You have no authority here,” Smits told the pale woman. “I’m going to give you a hint, which if you’re smart, you’ll take. Run. Run as far away and as fast as you can go from here.”

  “I have no intention of running,” the woman said.

  “I’ll hand you over to Maddox if you don’t.”

  The woman’s thin nostrils drew inward as she drew a deep breath. “Commodore, I’m here to decide if you’re fit to continue your office.”

  “Oh?”

  “If I find you unfit, you will die.”

  “Just like that?” asked Smits.

  The woman nodded as she snapped her fingers.

  “You’re going to kill me?” Smits said.

  “No,” she said evenly. “You will commit suicide due to terrible remorse. Before you do, however, you will write a long confession, highlighting your odious deeds.”

  Smits snorted. “Why would I possibly do any of that?”

  “Because I’ll make you,” she said.

  “How?”

  The brown in her eyes deepened, and it appeared she held herself utterly still. It was questionable if she even breathed.

  Smits stared in horror at his right hand as it rose from the desk. He glanced from the woman to the hand. Then, sharply, the right hand struck his own face. It did it again, back-handing himself.

  “Stop it!” he shouted.

  Her shoulders slumped forward the tiniest bit. She blinked, and she shifted in her chair.

  Smits’ hand dropped back to the desk. He stared at it as if it was a foreign object. Then his head jerked up as he stared at her. “Who are you?”

  She smiled most wickedly.

  “How can you do that to me?”

  She shook her head. “Commodore, you will look into my eyes.”

  “No!” he said.

  “Look,” she said, as if threatening him.

  Smits looked up into her eyes.

  A force grew in her. It was cold and reptilian, maybe even alien. Something passed from her to him. Smit
s shivered, and he began coughing. That broke the eye contact.

  The woman seemed weary, spent, as if she’d run a great distance. It seemed as if she struggled to keep her thin shoulders squared. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Smits said in a rote manner.

  “Good.” She stood, studying him. Then, she smiled in her evil way. “You’ll only get one chance, so make it a good one.”

  “You can count on me,” Smits said mechanically.

  The weary woman turned away, heading for the exit.

  Smits did not watch her go, even though she had a spectacular ass. He was staring at his hands, confused and yet utterly sure what he had to do in the next few days. It was his destiny. He had to act to save…to save the situation from disaster.

  “Yes,” Smits said, forgetting about the woman but not what the woman had told him to do. He needed to prepare for Victory and its heinous Captain Maddox.

  -81-

  Instead of finding the personnel here cold and stiff as they spoke via comm, Valerie found the people friendly and helpful, seemingly glad that Victory had arrived in the star system.

  Valerie finished speaking to the officer in charge of orbital security. Maddox stood behind her out of range of the comm screen, having listened carefully.

  At this point, Victory approached the Jovian planet, passing several strikefighters on orbital patrol. There did not appear to be anything suspicious in their maneuver. It was normal Star Watch standard.

  Valerie finished her call and looked back at Maddox.

  “Was anything odd to you about the exchange, Lieutenant?”

  Valerie bent her head in thought. “Given your latest briefing to us about the star base and Commander Guderian’s observations about Alpha Sigma 9…” Valerie’s eyes widened as she looked up. “They were too friendly?”

  “Do you believe that or are you just saying it to please me?” Maddox asked.

  Valerie frowned. “I don’t know. Their friendliness certainly wasn’t what I expected.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.” Maddox turned to go.

  “Sir?” asked Valerie.

  Maddox turned back to her.

  “I don’t understand why we’re heading into orbit with those two Conqueror-class battleships. They failed to leave for Earth as ordered by Cook.”

  Maddox waited.

  “Those two are waiting together with three older battleships,” Valerie said. “What’s worse, they’re orbiting in a flotilla formation. Particularly at close range, we couldn’t possibly defeat all five if they fight together.”

  “And…?”

  “Five battleships, sir,” Valerie said, “with two of them derelict of duty for not immediately heading for Earth. I smell mischief or possibly a deathtrap for us, because I certainly don’t think these people are sloppy.”

  Maddox still did not reply.

  Valerie eyed him. “Am I out of bounds for talking like this, sir?”

  “No,” Maddox said. “I quite approve.” He turned. “Galyan…meet me in my ready room.” Maddox headed for the room beside the bridge, entering within and going to the desk.

  Galyan appeared. He was no longer fuzzy and no longer showing “bad reception.” During the trip here, Ludendorff had checked his AI circuits and repaired several blown ones.

  The little Adok holoimage looked positively eager for duty: he was so sharp and clear.

  Maddox put his booted feet on the desk, leaning back in his chair. “Have you been monitoring the local space chatter?”

  “You ordered me to, sir,” Galyan said. “So yes, I have.”

  “Find anything unusual?”

  “Not in the colloquial space chatter sense, sir.”

  “Where have you, then?”

  “I have detected the very faintest of passive sensors. You might think that impossible, and it should be. However, through triangulating the electronic bursts—”

  “Spare me the technical details,” Maddox said, interrupting. “What about the passive sensors bothers you?”

  “You ordered me to leave out the technical details, but there is one point I must explain or what I have to say will not make sense.”

  “All right, go ahead.”

  “As is quite common, there are many moons orbiting the gas giant, the Earth-sized water moon being the largest of them. As an aside, many of the moons are hardly more than small asteroids. One of the moons is carbonaceous, meaning it is primarily composed of carbon with a few rocks and minerals sprinkled in. That means it is a dark moon with a very low albedo. This moon happens to be midway between the water moon and the gas giant and has a fast orbit. According to my records on the gas giant and its moons, the carbonaceous moon was empty and has always been so. Now, however, it is no longer empty—at least, given the electronic readings I have detected from it.”

  “What does that mean to you?”

  “Since the last report concerning the star base, someone has taken up residence on or in the carbonaceous moon. Due to the electronic readings, I have deduced a passive sensor station there. So, to be accurate, I did not sense the passive sensors. That came after a quick analysis of the electronic readings and a logical deduction as to what caused it.”

  Maddox removed his booted feet from the desk and sat up, drumming his left-hand fingers on the wood. “Could the moon be a trap for you?”

  “Me, sir? I do not understand.”

  “I remember a time you went on a personal scan about a year ago.”

  “Oh, you mean when I found Liss cybers aboard the Lolis II. Oh, I see, sir. Do you suspect a Liss cyber infestation here?”

  “It has crossed my mind and might explain some things.”

  “That is brilliantly deductive, sir.”

  “No. That’s using my crew to the best of their abilities and drawing the correct conclusions.”

  “Then…I do not understand.”

  “I don’t yet, either, Galyan. I’m beginning to feel as if we’ve walked into a trap. Are the perpetrators of the alleged trap a remnant of the Liss cybers or is this more Lisa Meyers’s doing or is it something else altogether?”

  “Given a safe and secretive place near the main planet—a water-moon, in this case—I am inclined to believe we have found a Liss cyber holdout. It is reminiscent of their style, as shown by their former stronghold on Luna.”

  Maddox nodded. He was thinking the same thing. In fact, he was surprised there hadn’t been more of that throughout the Commonwealth. Well, maybe there had, as Stokes’s teams had repeatedly run into blocks. He still couldn’t believe Strokes had used Josef Becker for a time. It was good to know the mind-manipulator was back in stasis. Hmm… The Liss cybers had been incredibly secretive. More of them might have survived than Star Watch realized, although the campaign to root them out everywhere had been brutal, especially the Jarnevon assault. The question here was, how did Commodore Smits play into all this? Maddox couldn’t figure that part out, unless Smits had become a Liss stooge.

  “Is it your opinion, sir, that if we begin firing on the carbonaceous moon, that the battleships will come up to fight us?”

  Maddox stared at the little holoimage. “I wasn’t thinking that, but I am now. I appreciate your logic, Galyan. Yes, I wonder if that’s so.”

  “Thank you, sir. I appreciate being appreciated.”

  “Enough of that,” Maddox said. “It’s time I spoke to Smits.”

  “Sir, may I make a suggestion?”

  “By all means,” Maddox said.

  “I suggest you have Smits come aboard Victory. I am beginning to suspect it would not be safe for you on the planet.”

  Maddox grunted as he stood. “Keep watch of the carbonaceous moon. But on no account are you to personally scout it. Study it from afar and catalog everything you can about it.”

  “Yes, sir. May I inquire as to your next move?”

  “Exactly as you suggested, Galyan. I’m going to have a little chat with this Smits fellow.”

  -82-


  Maddox took the call in his ready room, having Valerie set up the interchange. Soon, she informed the captain that Commodore Smits was on the line.

  Maddox straightened his uniform as he sat in a seat in the ready room, with a screen before him on the desk. “Go ahead,” he told Valerie via comm.

  “You’re with Captain Maddox, sir,” she said.

  Smits appeared on the captain’s screen. The commodore was…on a battleship bridge, it would appear. Yes… He was on a Conqueror-class battleship. In that case, it had to be either the Wellington or the Subotai.

  “Hello, Commodore,” Maddox said. “May I ask where you are?”

  Smits’s eyes were glassy, and he seemed hypnotized, although that changed as soon as Smits spoke. “Maddox, I’m surprised you’re here. What’s the occasion?”

  “That’s Captain Maddox to you. I’m here as a personal representative of Lord High Admiral Cook.”

  “Oh? I’ve not received such a missive.”

  “I’m giving it to you right now. Are you ready to receive the Lord High Admiral’s message?”

  “No…not so quickly, sir,” Smits said. “I’m finding this odd, quite odd indeed.”

  “Why’s that?” asked Maddox.

  Smits smiled, trying to turn it into a hearty one. “You should ask that? I’m surprised. Didn’t they brief you on Alpha Sigma 9?”

  The suspicion that Smits was a Liss stooge—or an alien puppet in some regard—grew in Maddox. He decided to proceed upon new lines. “Dear Commodore Smits, I’ve made a dreadful error. Could you excuse me for a moment? I would like to rearrange my thoughts and start over with you. I feel as if we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, and the Lord High Admiral told me to treat you especially with regard.”