The Lost Intelligence (Lost Starship Series Book 12)

by Vaughn Heppner

  Becker straightened. Then, he stood. Maybe there was a chance to repair his standing with Nostradamus.

  “Yes,” Becker said. “That’s what I want.”

  Truly, it is your greatest wish?

  Becker sensed a latent threat with the question, but he didn’t know what else to say.

  Think most carefully, Becker. Your answer is critical. What do you wish for most of all? Whatever it is, I can give you. I cannot fulfill all your desires, however.

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  Come, come, you’re a clever fellow. I’ve strengthened your intellect and given you dynamic mental abilities. What have you achieved with this? Constant rutting with beautiful females. You desire to lord it over these beauties. Perhaps that is your greatest wish.

  “I want power.”

  Political power or sexual power? You clearly cannot handle both.

  Becker began to sense what Nostradamus was driving at. “I do want both,” he said.

  I’ve just told you that you cannot have both. You must choose. Either you can lord it over the beauties or you can lord it over society. But your sexual drive hinders you from thinking clearly enough to rule humanity.

  “Are you talking about further modifications to me?”

  I am, Josef Becker. If you yearn to become the Master of the Universe, you must shed yourself of your testicles. They have led you into excessive rutting. Since you cannot control that, I will control it for you by removing the temptation.

  Becker began to sweat. This was a horrifying proposition.

  Do you really think so? I’m offering you your greatest wish. Do you want it or not? Consider carefully, Becker. Lisa Meyers has preyed upon your weakness. You desire love. Your mental coercive power cannot force a woman to love you, because love is a choice. Your mental powers take away choice.

  “B-But…”

  To achieve greatness, you need single-mindedness. Remember, though, Lisa Meyers preyed upon your weakness. She struck when you grew tired of endless rutting and wanted that which your new mental prowess cannot directly give you.

  “I need time to think this through.”

  You and I are out of time. Our enemies have become aware of us. That was always bound to happen. We are not quite ready for them yet, though. Therefore, I need a sharp tool, a driven individual. Are you that one or must I find another?

  Becker found it hard to breathe. He’d loved Magyar, but she’d betrayed him. She hadn’t really loved him. If he were Master of the Universe, he could make everyone, even the beauties, pay for not loving him as they should. He could make all the future Magyars pay most bitterly for their treachery.

  Becker raised his chin. In a raw voice, he said, “I want political power.”

  I know you do. My servants are already on their way. They will rid you of sexual temptations. You will be the Grand Eunuch that rules all as the Master of the Universe. Yes, Becker, it is time to intern the Iron Lady and ready a trap for Lisa Meyers. That will dovetail with Captain Maddox’s arrival, I warrant. I’m almost ready. We need just a few more months so nothing can shake my control of Star Watch.

  Becker heard the voice in his head, but he was hardly aware of the meaning. A portal opened and a long, low off-white machine moved into the chamber. It had hundreds of tiny appendages on the bottom like a giant centipede. The machine—or Liss—had a bony pair of pincers. It was here to help him achieve his ultimate dream.

  Becker moaned, and he hardened his heart. He would be Nostradamus’s prime agent, and he would inflict great sorrows on the universe for making him make this dreadful choice to achieve his great aim.

  What did it matter, though? His one true love had spurned and tricked him. Likely, love did not really exist. It was a shame. The only thing that counted was power, raw unadulterated power.

  Becker found himself stripped and on the floor as bony tentacles held him down. There was a numbing agent applied to him. Then, he heard a snip—and he howled in agony of soul, even as he realized he would now work with ruthless efficiency so he could gain revenge on everyone in existence.

  -8-

  A week later, Becker limped along a low gravity lunar corridor. He ached between his legs even though Nostradamus had assured him there was no physical pain.

  I’ll probably limp for the rest of my life, Becker thought.

  His thinking had shifted this past week due to a number of pressures against his psyche. The first and possibly most damning was Magyar’s betrayal. He hadn’t gotten over it. He would have loved to question her, not to kick her in the ribs or slap her face. No. He couldn’t have done that, not to her. He wanted to know how she could have done that to him. He thought she’d loved him. Maybe he would have slapped her face afterward. Maybe he would have even kicked her in the ribs. It would have depended on her answers.

  Becker limped, favoring his left leg. He wore looser pants and no longer wore tight briefs, but boxer shorts. He was sure that helped somehow.

  Now, because of Magyar’s betrayal, he could no longer do it with beauties. She’d stolen that from him.

  He understood on an intellectual plane that his own excesses had led to this. But he couldn’t accept it emotionally. That meant it was Magyar’s fault, and that meant it was the damned Methuselah Woman who had done this to him.

  Becker yearned to wring Lisa Meyers’ neck. He wanted her dead. He wanted Maddox dead, too, but wasn’t sure what that was about. He wanted a host of people to die. If they perished gruesomely that would be all the better.

  Nostradamus seemed to have noticed the changes. It was why Becker had spent the last week here instead of returning to his Earth-orbital corvette.

  Becker had found himself shoved into a long tube. There, the pain had become exquisite, the neural-mass-compaction rays causing his brain to throb and swell. Giant centipede things had extracted him from the tube, placed him under a machine where buzz saws cut into his skull. The machine enlarged his skull by adding material between the separated pieces. His head had literally grown, and the high-density brain mass had grown with it, expanding in the roomier skull. Sprays had speeded the healing process.

  Inside the lunar corridor, Becker halted. His groin hurt and his head—he couldn’t look in a mirror anymore. He didn’t think any woman would consider him dashing now. He certainly didn’t think that about himself anymore. He had a gruesome appearance with an overlarge cranium like some sick superhero villain from the comic books. The extra-large cranium made his face look squished in and too small. His eyes were crazed, as well.

  He’d stared into a mirror once, debating whether to unleash mental domination bolts at the hideous freak before him.

  That was when he’d vowed never to look in a mirror again. That was when he agreed with Nostradamus to become the whip master of the Solar System.

  With his modifications, Becker sensed more thoughts around him. The trick wasn’t in understanding the foreign neural-synapse-thoughts, but blocking them so he could think.

  Becker’s outrageously large pituitary gland and incredibly large, dense brain required him to wear a neck brace. He wore one even while on the Moon. It made him look even weaker and nerdier than he was. Bullies would automatically torment him—Becker laughed sourly. They would try. He would dominate them until their small brains fried under the overload. He would make the small-heads dance jigs for him.

  Becker slapped his chest. He was a bighead. Everyone else was a small-head small-brain, feeble fool.

  “Whip mastering” the Solar System must be a test. Nostradamus wanted to see if he had right stuff to implement the grand plan. He would run the Solar System as they executed the Lisa Meyers Trap and the Expulsion of Maddox Plan.

  Becker would slay Maddox, but Nostradamus had a few more plans for the captain and his monkey-headed crew.

  “What a difference a week makes,” Becker muttered.

  Becker.

  Becker came to attention. He wore a special military hat that hid to some extent his
enlarged cranium.

  Are you through feeling sorry for yourself?

  I am, Becker told Nostradamus, using the new function his bigger, heavier brain allowed him.

  You must shed these emotions.

  I’m in the process of beginning that, Becker said.

  Don’t equivocate and don’t dodge the issue by using a Maddox tactic. Begin expunging your emotions, or I’ll do it for you.

  Becker nodded, and he stumbled forward, surprised at the imbalance of his large cranium.

  It will be worse on Earth.

  Becker said nothing, waiting for orders as he leaned a hand against a lunar wall, having regained his balance.

  Fletcher is stubborn concerning the Iron Lady. You will change his thinking on that, and you will prepare him so that if Maddox arrives, I can use the captain in the Lisa Meyers Trap.

  When do I leave for Earth? Becker asked.

  At once, Nostradamus told him. Do you have any questions?

  None.

  You’re growing, Becker. You’re becoming more like a Liss every day. In time, you’ll rule the Commonwealth. From there…we shall see.

  Yes, Becker said. And he did see, understanding the utility of shedding his emotions. At that instant, he understood the wisdom of his castration. That was odd and awe-inspiring.

  Oh, you’re learning quickly indeed, Nostradamus told him.

  With a lighter step, with hardly a limp, Becker turned and headed in the other direction. It was time to reenter the arena of life and start twisting the small-headed fools into doing his Master’s bidding.

  -9-

  Captain Josef Becker limped through Star Watch Headquarters in Geneva, Switzerland. His former optimism had taken several hits since landing on Earth.

  One such hit was his neck muscles strained to hold up his huge cranium. Without the neck brace, he would have been helpless.

  Despite the desire to rid himself of emotions, the brace embarrassed him. He wanted to project strength and power. He wanted others to wilt in terror upon seeing him.

  Instead, others turned and stared as he passed. He could feel their puny, ugly thoughts in his huge intellect. They thought he looked grotesque. The women thought that the most, as did some of the effeminate men. The tough guys were astonished such an obvious weakling wore a captain’s uniform. They wondered what kind of freak they let into Star Watch these days.

  Becker would have liked to stand over them and make them scream and plead for mercy. Their thoughts were making it difficult for him to practice emotionlessness.

  That likely meant Nostradamus would have to alter him once more.

  Frankly, Becker feared that. Worse, he feared he would give that away if he returned to the Subterranean Moon Chambers. The need to guard his thoughts—

  Stick to the plan, Becker told himself. He needed to show Nostradamus that he could run the Solar System. He needed a deft touch, not massive applications of raw brainpower.

  He reached the outer office of the Lord High Admiral. The older, pretty Ms. Livy looked up from her desk, unable to control her dismay at the sight of him.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  Becker almost inclined his head. That would have been a terrible mistake, as he might have staggered forward until he struck her desk. He carefully balanced his head, keeping it centered.

  “I’m here to see the admiral.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “Captain Becker,” he said.

  No recognition appeared in her eyes, and she had a keen memory. “Yes, Captain Becker has an appointment with the admiral. What does that have to do with you?”

  “I’m Captain Becker.”

  “Is this a joke?” she demanded.

  Becker struck her mind too hard. She collapsed back against her chair, her eyes wide. Then she flopped forward, striking her desk with her face. Blood began pooling almost immediately. She must have hit her nose too hard and it had started to bleed.

  Becker muttered to himself, wondering what he should do.

  The door to the Lord High Admiral’s officer opened, and tall Fletcher looked out. “My goodness,” Fletcher said loudly. “What’s wrong with Ms. Livy?”

  Becker nearly lost his balance as he turned around, but he managed to do it while avoiding the old man’s rush.

  Fletcher grabbed Ms. Livy’s shoulders, lifting her from the desk and leaning her back. “She’s stopped breathing!” Fletcher shouted.

  “Stop it,” Becker said, and in his near panic, he struck the old man with too strong a mental command.

  Fletcher released her and staggered back until his shoulders hit the wall. He slid down until he crashed onto his butt.

  Becker panted, carefully levering himself into one of the secretary’s chairs. He faced Fletcher, and he concentrated on applying enough mental domination, but not too much.

  “You’ll worry about her later,” Becker said.

  Fletcher stared at him in amazement.

  “She’s fine,” Becker said, trying a different approach. “She’s sleeping because she had a hard night.”

  “Oh,” Fletcher said. “I didn’t know. I should give her a few days off.”

  “Good idea,” Becker said. “Now let’s go into your office.”

  “Shouldn’t I check on Ms. Livy?”

  “She’ll get up in a minute,” Becker said. “First, I have to tell you a few things.” He concentrated, staring at the old fool.

  Fletcher winced horribly and his eyelids fluttered. Afterward, he said, “Here now,” climbing to his feet. “Let me give you a hand into my office. Your head looks too top-heavy for you.”

  “No!” Becker shouted. That wasn’t what he’d mentally told the old fool.

  Fletcher winced horribly once more, and tears filmed in his eyes.

  “Do you understand?” Becker shouted.

  “Please, don’t hurt me,” Fletcher whimpered.

  A cruel smile stretched onto Becker’s face. Then, he remembered that Nostradamus needed the old fool.

  “Go into your office,” Becker said. “I’ll help Ms. Livy. After I’m done, I’m going to give you orders.”

  “Yes, Lord,” Fletcher said meekly, heading for his office.

  Once the door closed, Becker turned his chair. Then he reached out with his mind, summoning the nearest person. He would practice controlling that person just right. When he found the correct balance, he would reset Fletcher to do the things Nostradamus wanted done.

  Becker swallowed uneasily. He hadn’t realized the full extent of his expanded powers. This was incredible. Once he got the hang of it—“I will rule the universe. I will. I know I will.”

  The next few weeks, he believed, should prove to be interesting indeed.

  -10-

  From General Almanac to the Planets

  Eleventh Edition (1211)

  Jarnevon: Third largest planet of the Bosk System, second in orbital order.

  Planetary Constants:

  Diameter: 11,783 kilometers

  Mass: 1.21

  Mean day: 22 hours, 18 minutes and 33.9 seconds.

  General Remarks: Jarnevon (also known as the Bosk Homeworld) is a rocky, desolate world of high mountains, low, narrow valleys and intense storms. The original colonists struggled to survive in this environment, eventually using artificial reproductive science to boost the dwindling population. This led to the so-called “vats,” and Methuselah Man Strand’s meddling several decades later…

  Afterthoughts: The notorious Star Watch campaign under Admiral Piedmont and the savage resistance of the Bosks led to orbital bombardment to break the native ability to fight. This led to a hard and intensive effort by Star Watch Intelligence to uncover the reason for the unrelenting Bosk opposition, and for a possible connection to Lord Drakos’s Hardliner New Men Faction…

  As the various events took place on Earth, Victory left the Beyond and raced through Human Space, through the Commonwealth, straining to reach the planet Jarnevon. Maddox employed the s
tar-drive jump as well using as regular Laumer Points.

  Jarnevon wasn’t quite on the opposite end of the Commonwealth, but it was far away from where they’d entered, and the journey took precious weeks.

  Often, other Star Watch personnel in various systems treated Victory’s appearance suspiciously. A few times, a warm reception via comm told Maddox and Ludendorff that some of Star Watch resisted the new changes and policies working their way through the large domain. Even as efficient an organization as Star Watch needed time to change policies through many star systems when messenger ships had to travel the light-years from one place to another.

  The number of known Long-Range Builder comm devices could be counted on two hands, and not all of those belonged to Star Watch.

  During the race to Jarnevon, Ludendorff asked for and received his old science chamber. He began working there, insisting that he do it alone.

  “Do you trust him, sir?” Galyan asked one day after Maddox had finished lifting.

  “You aren’t secretly checking up on him?” Maddox replied.

  “I have been. Was that wrong?”

  “No. I thought you’d tell me if Ludendorff was doing something strange.”

  “That is not it, sir,” Galyan said. “He is doing something I do not understand.”

  “Ah,” Maddox said. “Then it’s time I paid him a visit. What is he doing?”

  “Working on headbands,” Galyan said. “I do not think it is a fashion statement. So, what could it be?”

  “I’m about to find out,” the captain said. He showered first and then headed for the science chamber.

  Several decks lower, Maddox knocked on a hatch. He wore his customary uniform, including a blaster sidearm. He knocked several times.

  The hatch opened after the fourth attempt. Ludendorff stood just inside. “Oh, Captain, please, do come in.”

  Maddox walked into the chamber, noting strewn equipment on various workbenches. At the farthest bench were metallic headbands with small bulbs attached to each.