That Imperium controlled as much as one-seventeenth of the Milky Way Galaxy. The Swarm worlds were concentrated in the Orion and Perseus Spiral Arms. The nearest point of the Imperium to the Commonwealth of Planets was 2027 light-years. Until now, it had appeared that the Swarm used sub-light-speed drives, taking incredibly long amounts of time to go from one star system to another. Thrax could have given the Imperium Laumer Drive, star drive and now hyper-spatial tube tech. That would dramatically change the balance of power between the Swarm and humanity.
“There are so many variables to this,” O’Hara said in a pleading tone.
“Reality doesn’t care about variables,” Maddox said. “What is is. If the Swarm launches a fleet at us, we must know that as quickly as possible. We must use our hoped-for mobility against their larger but slower fleets.”
“You are making many assumptions,” O’Hara said.
“Logical assumptions,” Maddox said. “I saw the Swarm fleet. It would take time to refit their warships with star-drive systems. Even giving every tenth ship Laumer-Drive tech would be time-consuming for them. If the Swarm is going to make a quick stab at us, they would likely use Commander Thrax’s vessels alone or add hordes of sub-light traveling Swarm vessels to his ships.”
O’Hara frowned, becoming thoughtful.
Motion caught Maddox’s eye. He looked up. The Lord High Admiral regarded him from a wall screen.
Admiral Cook was a large old man with a red face and gruff features. He wore a white uniform. The Lord High Admiral ran Star Watch. He had not always trusted the captain, although that had changed lately.
“How…likely do you think it is that such a scanner is still in existence at the Junkyard Planet?” Cook asked.
“As to that, sir, I can’t say,” Maddox replied. “But I think gaining anything like that is worth the effort.”
“You are forgetting about opportunity costs,” Cook said ponderously. “If Victory attempts to race to the Junkyard Planet, it cannot be somewhere else. If this is one of Ludendorff’s scams…”
“I understand,” Maddox said.
The captain could still hardly believe what Ludendorff claimed to have discovered. The implications had been there all along, though. Maybe that was what he should be emphasizing to the Lord High Admiral.
“Sir,” Maddox said. “I spoke to the Builder on the Dyson sphere. He showed me an amazing star field. He had what seemed to be up-to-date knowledge regarding far-flung territories. We have the long-range communicators. Well, Ludendorff has one, and a few New Men have others, and I believe Star Watch possesses two, at least. That shows it is possible to communicate across many light-years. That is something we believed impossible just a few years ago.”
“True,” Cook said.
“A hyper-spatial tube can send a ship a thousand light-years or more in a moment,” Maddox said. “That is Builder technology. Why, then, couldn’t there be a scanner that can see hundreds of light-years in a moment? With such a scanner, we could create an advanced warning system, knowing the instant an enemy invasion fleet entered our territory.”
“It is a tantalizing possibility,” Cook admitted. “Yet, such a scanner seems more magical than technological.”
“I won’t dispute that,” Maddox said. “Yet, if Star Watch had such a scanner, able to view a hundred light-years away, we could use it powerfully to our advantage.”
“Hmmm,” Cook said. “The obvious move, if we possessed such a scanner, would be to create a giant, centrally located fleet. The moment the Swarm appeared, we would know and could begin a counter-assault against them.”
Maddox knew when to fall silent, letting the idea and the possibilities do the arguing for him.
“There must be other marvels on this Junkyard Planet, as well,” Cook said with a far-off, contemplative stare.
“Undoubtedly,” Maddox said.
That refocused the Lord High Admiral. He studied the captain. “Ludendorff will want some of these marvels for himself.”
“Agreed,” Maddox said.
Cook sighed deeply before regarding O’Hara. “Are you dead set against the voyage, Brigadier?”
O’Hara looked up. “No, sir, not dead set. I just wonder why…” She glanced at Maddox, then quickly away.
“Yes, I understand,” Cook said in as soft a voice as he could manage. “Why must we always send the captain? The answer is obvious. He has the best ship for such ventures, and he has proven himself as the best man for these missions. Perhaps it would be wiser to deliberate about this, but the possibility of gaining a Builder scanner is too urgent.” The admiral fixed Maddox with his stare. “You must begin the voyage at once, Captain.”
“I have a few requirements before I leave the Solar System,” Maddox said.
“Waiting to leave for any reason is dangerous,” Cook said. “Androids might use that to sneak aboard your ship.”
“We’ll have to double security.”
Cook nodded slowly. “Do you have anything to add, Brigadier?”
“We could use the Spacers in this,” O’Hara said.
“Tell me where they’re hiding,” Cook said.
“I have no idea,” O’Hara said. “No one has seen a Spacer for the past few months.”
Cook waited several heartbeats before he said, “Is there anything else, Captain?”
“Not that I can think of, sir.”
“Then it is decided,” Cook said. “I charge you with finding this Junkyard Planet and returning to Earth with the Builder scanner Ludendorff claims is there. Do it quickly, Captain. The sooner we get such a scanner operating…”
“I understand, sir. If it’s there, I will—”
“No!” O’Hara said, alarmed. “Do not boast. Do your best. That is all we ask. I do not want you to jinx the expedition by making grandiose boasts.”
Maddox raised an eyebrow before nodding.
Victory had its newest destination. It would no doubt prove to be a highly interesting voyage.
One thing he would try to learn, however, was the professor’s real reason for wanting to go to this dead Builder world. Ludendorff would try something nefarious there. Of that, the captain had no doubt.
-5-
A week later and well over a hundred light-years from Earth, a cloaked star cruiser moved through an uncharted system—uncharted in relation to Star Watch maps at any rate. It was the Star Cruiser Argo, named long ago by its unique commander.
Deep inside the Argo, in a heavily armored chamber located there for maximum protection, a wizened old man hunched over a computer console. He had hellish embers for eyes and muttered softly to himself as he worked.
He was the Methuselah Man Strand, and he ruled like a tyrant aboard the carefully modified vessel. The crew was composed of golden-skinned New Men, each of them controlled through mind-altering brain surgeries.
Strand manipulated the computer screen, which held a dizzyingly complex mathematical formula. It was his latest endeavor as he tried to calculate the Emperor’s response to his offer.
There were so many factors to consider. If he added a threat here—Strand tapped the screen, waited, and watched a rippling change throughout the complex formula.
This was not good. If he went that route, three years from now, the indicators showed—
A beep broke Strand’s vaunted concentration. With an irritated scowl, he glanced up at the intercom system.
“Yes?” he growled.
“Excellency,” a New Man said from a small screen. “A star cruiser has entered the system.”
“Is it fully intact?”
“Excellency, you ordered—”
“I know very well what I ordered,” Strand snarled. “I expect passive sensor-scans only.”
“Yes, Excellency,” the New Man said in a rote manner.
Strand studied the individual. The New Man’s name was Dem Darius. He was taller than average and of a more noble bearing than ordinary. He was the acting commander in Strand’s absence. Once, Dari
us had commanded a flotilla of star cruisers. He had run across Strand back in the day, and made a routine visit to the Argo. Darius’s arrogant manner had angered Strand. Thus, he had kept the flotilla commander, using his cloaking to slip away from the other star cruisers.
“The sensors do not indicate any battle damage to the approaching vessel,” Darius said. “However, the star cruiser’s furtive manner indicates otherwise.”
“Maintain our position,” Strand said. “I’m coming up.”
***
Several hours later, the Argo adjusted its course.
Strand sat in the commander’s chair in the center of the bridge. Dem Darius was at the gunner’s seat, checking the ship’s weapons.
Whenever the Methuselah Man felt ill at ease or downcast, he would eye the noble-looking golden-skinned superman. Strand would recall Darius’s arrogant words from that long-ago time. It settled Strand’s unease to see that even the proud broke under his genius and cunning. He was the ultimate man. He always rose to the supreme position.
Feeling better, Strand focused on the latest situation.
The system possessed a G-class star with four planets, one of them terrestrial and the rest gas giants of various sizes. There were no appreciable asteroid belts or Oort clouds, and absolutely no comets in the system.
The enemy star cruiser had come out of the Laumer-Point nearest the star. The triangular-shaped vessel headed toward the jump point at the third planet, a gas giant with seething, swirling planetary-wide cloud cover.
Strand had been worried that the New Men had discovered his secret base here. For some time now, he’d expected more Throne World warships to tumble out of the star’s jump point. None had, and this star cruiser traveled in a seemingly oblivious manner.
“Their commander appears to be unaware of my outpost,” Strand said.
None of his New Men responded to the comment. They were not supposed to. Even so, their silence rankled.
It was true that he maintained iron discipline aboard his ship so that he had complete control. If he gave any one of them any independent thought at all, that one might foment a rebellion. That would mean Strand’s death, at best. It could mean his subjection, at worst. However, he still occasionally missed normal back-and-forth conversations. He had not had one of those since—
Ludendorff! That had been the last time. It had been via the long-distance communicators they both possessed.
He would crush the professor one of these days. Presently, he had more important fish to fry.
At his signal, the vessel began an intense burn. He wanted to build up as much velocity as he could while the regular star cruiser was behind the second planet in relation to them. That would be for less than an hour. The cloak only worked effectively without any burn or with the special “silent running” system. That allowed the Argo to creep from one location to another.
Strand’s secret base was hidden on the extra-large moon of the third planet. The moon had an atmosphere, but a person could not survive in it without aid. Still, the “air” helped in certain regards. An underground complex holding several thousand people existed there. They were mostly technical people, with enough pay-girls thrown into the mix to keep the men from rebelling due to boredom. More to the point, Lore Fallows had worked there for quite some time. To date, the Kai-Kaus chief technician had manufactured several disrupter cannons. Strand’s cloaked star cruiser possessed one of those, among its other armaments.
Strand had kidnapped Lore Fallows from the sub-men while in Neptune orbit. That stealthy maneuver was finally about to pay some real dividends.
The Methuselah Man grinned with genuine humor. He had many debts. Some might call them grudges. Strand prided himself on paying back those kinds of debts with interest. The Emperor of the New Men had expelled him from the Throne World. This was his chance to begin the payback against the ungrateful pretender.
Strand’s breathing quickened as he considered the breadth of his grievance. He had created the New Men through an intense process. Originally, he had begun a eugenics program to develop superior soldiers. Those soldiers would defend humanity against the terrible menaces out there. That had been over one hundred and fifty years ago. The Thomas Moore Society—
Never mind about that!
The New Men had escaped his grasp. That had been in large part due to the present Emperor and that prissy-boy, Golden Ural. They would both learn what it meant to cross him. Professor Ludendorff would learn—the galaxy—
Strand balled his ancient fingers into fists, squeezing. He had to maintain his decorum. He had to control his rage. He had made too many mistakes lately. He was going to change that. He would turn everything around. First, he had to capture that star cruiser over there.
“Steady as she goes,” Strand said, to no one in particular. He watched his bridge crew, though. He watched to see if any of them nodded to each other or secretly signaled in any other way. None did. Thus, the Argo’s acceleration continued without any unwonted actions on the Methuselah Man’s part.
***
Later, Strand left the bridge, slept for a spell, worked on his equation and finally returned to the bridge. Many of the personnel had changed to the second team, although Dem Darius remained at the gunner’s console.
The Argo drifted on its built-up velocity. The enemy star cruiser continued to accelerate as it headed for the Laumer-Point.
Strand was not worried. He did not believe the star cruiser would attempt to enter the jump point at its present speed. It would have to decelerate first. That meant the two ships would reach the third planet at roughly the same time.
This was the essence of many space battles. It took time to maneuver into position. Space was vast. Missiles or drones often had to travel for days to reach the enemy. Beams were incredibly short-ranged, given interstellar and even star-system distances. Most beams rarely reached effective performance beyond one hundred thousand kilometers. Strangely, that made missiles the weapon of choice for long-distance conflicts. It was strange because missiles were so much slower than a speed-of-light beam.
For Strand’s purposes, the Argo needed to be even closer than normal. He had a trick up his sleeve. Even though it would be quite some time before he could employ the trick, his gut had begun to squeeze in anticipation.
The Methuselah Man silently recited many mind-litanies to calm himself. Finally, he gave bridge command back to Darius.
Strand left the bridge and went to exercise. He read a book afterward, ate a tasty meal and thought about going to the sex-simulator. No. It was better to leave sex out of this for now.
As one of the oldest beings alive, he had learned that the great problem with long life was ennui or boredom. He could have anything ordinary he wanted. That meant none of those things satisfied him these days. Only difficultly acquire things brought pleasure. Revenge against the powerful was among the hardest to gain. Thus, it brought him the greatest joy when achieved.
What did a man want to make him happy? Just a little more was the answer. Well, Strand wanted a lot more. They would see. They would all see.
***
The third planet of the system, the second gas giant with its swirling atmosphere, grew larger by the hour. Strand looked out a viewing port, seeing the planet with his naked sight.
The enemy star cruiser applied massive deceleration, the exhaust a bright plume in the distance.
On the passive sensors, it was apparent now. The regular star cruiser had taken hull damage earlier. A thorough examination with the passive sensors indicated that the damage had come through heavy hammership cannons. That would seem to indicate the star cruiser had stumbled onto Admiral Fletcher’s hunting fleet.
That troubled Strand. If Fletcher was out here, it could ruin everything.
Star Watch and its allies still wanted the kidnapped women the New Men had taken at the end of the invasion of “C” Quadrant of the Commonwealth. If Fletcher had made it this far, it was more than possible that he could fin
d the Throne World. If Star Watch’s Grand Fleet invaded the Throne World System, the New Men would boil out en masse. Did Star Watch truly desire a grand battle against the New Men before the Swarm arrived?
“Foolish,” Strand muttered. No. Concentrate on the main issue, he told himself.
Strand forced himself to sit still. He studied the enemy star cruiser. It was three hundred thousand kilometers ahead of them. The gas giant loomed before the enemy vessel. The Laumer-Drive entrance was nearby. The tramline was part of the route to the Throne World.
“The ship is at extreme range of our disrupter cannon,” Darius said.
Strand’s head jerked before remembering that he’d ordered the gunner to inform him of exactly that information. The Kai-Kaus disrupter was an amazing weapon. It would revolutionize space warfare. He could understand why Admiral Fletcher felt so confident. But Strand would not snipe at the star cruiser at extremely long range.
“Steady as she goes,” he said.
The minutes passed into a half hour. The half hour grew into a full hour and then two. The enemy vessel was now two hundred thousand kilometers away from them.
“They have turned on their Laumer-Point sensing gear,” Darius said.
“Drop our cloak,” Strand said. “Then go full ahead at maximum speed.”
It didn’t take long after that.
“Sir,” a New Man said. “The enemy commander is hailing us.”
“Ignore him,” Strand said.
“Sir,” the New Man said shortly. “He is threating to target us unless we identify ourselves.”
“Open channels,” Strand said.
As the comm officer tapped his controls, Strand donned a holo-mask. He fiddled with it until it showed him as a golden-skinned New Man. A moment later, Commander Lars Lark of the Silver Tangier stared at Strand from the main screen.
“What is the meaning of this?” Lark demanded.
The New Man had arrogant features like many of his kind. He had bristly black hair, sharp angles to his face and almost-gleaming eyes like a stellar eagle. He wore a black uniform with silver insignia on his shoulders and left pectoral, signifying that he was part of the Emperor’s Guard, a chosen group of starship commanders.
The Lost Planet (Lost Starship Series Book 6) Page 3