The Lost Intelligence (Lost Starship Series Book 12)

by Vaughn Heppner

  Ludendorff noticed the direction of the captain’s gaze. “Those. I thought Galyan had studied them longer than anything else. You show that I was correct in my assumption.”

  Maddox eyed the professor.

  “Didn’t think I’d notice his ghostly form prowling about my laboratory, eh? No, no, Captain, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…”

  “What are they?” Maddox asked.

  “Oh, so you’re not going to deny that he was spying on me, eh?”

  “Why would I?”

  “When will you learn to trust me?”

  A faint smile appeared on the captain’s face. “Perhaps we could better spend our time on getting ready for Nostradamus. It’s clear you’ve been preparing. Do you care to tell me why?”

  Ludendorff indicated they move to the farthest workbenches. Maddox complied, and they sat down there. Ludendorff picked up a bottle of wine, uncorking it and pouring into two glasses.

  “I knew you’d be coming,” Ludendorff said, handing one glass to Maddox.

  They clinked goblets afterward, each sipping and studying the other.

  “As you suggest,” Ludendorff said, “I’ve been doing some heavy thinking, maybe even some soul-searching. I’ve had bitter experiences with the Bosks, the Draegars in particular. That was over four years ago now. The Draegars were Strand’s experiment for a time.”

  “I’m well aware of that.”

  “I know, I know,” Ludendorff said, sipping his wine. “I’ve begun to wonder about the Draegars, and about Strand, too. Did the essence of the Liss trickle up from subterranean chambers to infect the Bosks and through them Strand and the Draegars?”

  “A mystical notion,” Maddox said. “That isn’t my department.”

  “My dear boy, you as the di-far say this?”

  “There’s nothing mystical about my status.”

  Ludendorff laughed, shaking his head. “You say that only because you’ve learned to believe it. Of course, the concept of di-far is mystical.”

  Maddox shrugged. He didn’t care to argue the idea.

  Perhaps Ludendorff understood. “We’ll stick to the issue. According to my understanding, the Liss were great diggers and miners, forming entire communities and societies in subterranean realms. They perfected certain mental abilities, able, I think, to communicate with each other in some sort of mass mind-meld. They died out, however, becoming extinct eons ago. Yet something of their essence lived on—Nostradamus, it would appear. That pattern or essence eventually showed up in the Draegars, mind specialists. Stand had never had a bent in that direction until he began experimenting with those on Jarnevon.”

  “You can prove this?”

  “To my satisfaction,” Ludendorff said. “If you don’t want to believe me…that’s your own affair.”

  “Suppose you have a point?” Maddox said.

  Ludendorff swirled his goblet, watching the red wine. He gulped the rest of it down, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He set the goblet aside and cracked his fingers. Getting up, he approached the very last workbench and picked up a metallic headband.

  It was not as flexible as the one Stokes had taken from Toronto R&D.

  “I’ve considered your Becker story for weeks,” Ludendorff said. “It has fascinated me. The Bosk Hekkus was also interesting. The idea Nostradamus increased the density of each man’s brain and caused the pituitary glands to enlarge… Clearly, it had a mental effect.”

  “On Hekkus’s and probably Becker’s ability to mentally manipulate others?” asked Maddox.

  “You doubt this?”

  Maddox shrugged.

  “Consider Earth history,” Ludendorff said. “In this instance, a Grigori Rasputin. Have you heard of him?”

  Maddox shook his head.

  “He was a Siberian peasant during the final years of Tsarist Russia. He came from a family of horse thieves. Something happened to him and he began wandering Russia. He fell in with a group of heretical Christians. They believed that the more you sinned, the more God could forgive you. Thus, they would have orgies in the forest.”

  “Sounds like your kind of peasant,” Maddox said. “Is there a point to this?”

  “Patience, my boy, patience. You know I always have a point.”

  Maddox sipped his wine, waiting.

  “There was more to Rasputin, though. The accounts speak about his strange eyes and the powerful effect he had on people. He had an even greater effect upon women. In any case, he ended up in the Tsar’s Court because he could calm the Tsar’s son, a hemophiliac. A hemophiliac has a harder time stopping any kind of bleeding. When the young boy became calm after receiving a cut, it would help him scab up and heal. When Rasputin spoke to him, the Tsar’s son would relax.”

  “And?”

  “Rasputin seemed to have some form of mental domination. How he did that, I don’t know.”

  “And?” asked Maddox.

  “There was another man, an evil one called Adolf Hitler.”

  “I’ve heard of him.”

  “He had a hypnotic effect on many. For instance, many powerful military men came to him, thinking to tell him how to run the losing war. Hitler would usually convince them he knew what to do. It was a mental form of domination.”

  “You’re saying like what Hekkus practiced?”

  “I’m not saying it was exactly the same,” Ludendorff replied, “but a stronger form of mental domination. Nostradamus has strengthened the effect in select humans. Is this mental domination telepathy? I don’t think directly, not as we envision telepathy in any case. Remember, the Liss had a mass mind-meld, an insectoid function. What I’m saying is that historical individuals like Rasputin and Hitler—and others like them—displayed mental domination or hypnotic powers, proving its existence. Nostradamus has strengthened the power. Mental domination has never been a mere figment of people’s imagination.”

  “An interesting point,” Maddox said.

  “I’m not suggesting Rasputin or Hitler could communicate mind to mind, of course.”

  “No,” Maddox said.

  “But maybe Hekkus and Becker achieved this feat through an increase in their mental domination power, maybe through a Liss application of the mass mind-meld technique.”

  “The headbands stop something like that from happening?” asked Maddox.

  “Well, sir,” Ludendorff said. “I’ve debated with myself for quite some time. I’ve wondered if what we’re witnessing in your stories is a combination of Rasputin-Spacer adept abilities.”

  “The Spacer adepts have inner modifications—gadgets—and can use invisible rays to affect neural connections in a person’s brain.”

  Ludendorff began to clap his hands. “You finally see it. Maybe Hekkus and Becker can do with their denser brains what Spacer adepts can do with their mechanisms.”

  “Electronic jamming equipment didn’t protect Becker’s men from Hekkus.”

  “Which is what gave me the clue to these,” Ludendorff said. “They operate on a different principle from a jammer. The headbands aren’t trying to block the neural-effecting rays but occupy the human brain with the headband’s stimulations.”

  “Like the photon-suits against the Ska,” Maddox said.

  “It’s not a one-to-one correlation, but in a manner of speaking I suppose that’s correct.”

  “I understand,” Maddox said. “Do you think we’ll need these on Earth?”

  “No, on Jarnevon,” Ludendorff said. “We must find the Liss caverns and search them for clues as to what exactly Nostradamus is.”

  “Sounds risky.”

  “It may be,” Ludendorff said. “But I suspect we’re going to need some ace cards if we’re going to survive our homecoming on Earth. Those ace cards will be hard to acquire, but I’m certain the best place to find them is the underground chambers on Jarnevon.”

  Maddox swirled his goblet, swirled it more. Finally, he set the glass down and stood. “Make more of those, Professor. If you’re right, we
may need to stage a commando raid into Jarnevon.”

  “Like Becker and his men did?”

  “No,” Maddox said. “We have to succeed, not let whatever is down there overwhelm and control us. That means we might need some serious firepower in the crypts of Jarnevon, and that means Space Marine battlesuits and the men who know how to use them.”

  -11-

  A little over six weeks after leaving the temporal distortions in the Erill System, Victory entered the Jarnevon System, named after its chief planet. The starship came through a Laumer Point several million kilometers from Jarnevon. Maddox sat in his command seat as his bridge officers began to revive.

  Soon, Valerie noted the amount of comm chatter between the planet and the Star Watch Bismarck-class battleships in orbit.

  “I’m counting seven battleships, sir,” Valerie said.

  Maddox nodded.

  “They’re leaving orbit,” she said. “Sir, they’re heading toward us.”

  “Or the Laumer Point,” Maddox said.

  “I don’t think so, sir,” Valerie said. “There are four attack cruisers and five missile cruisers. They’ve come around Jarnevon to join the battleships.” She turned in her seat. “I think they’re our reception committee.”

  Maddox rose thoughtfully from his command chair. He approached the main screen.

  Valerie manipulated her panel. “This is at high magnification, sir.”

  The rocky, brown planet blew up in size. The seven battleships and nine other capital ships joining them were easily visible due to their long tails of hot exhaust.

  “Do you see any haulers in orbit?” asked Maddox.

  “I do,” Valerie said. “They’re heading around the planet compared to us as if they’re hiding from sight.”

  Maddox nodded, rubbing his chin. “You have the bridge, Lieutenant. I’m going to speak with Ludendorff.”

  Valerie rose, heading for the captain’s chair.

  Maddox exited the bridge, calling for Galyan and asking him the professor’s whereabouts. The Methuselah Man was in the cafeteria eating a late breakfast.

  Maddox’s stomach rumbled. A late breakfast sounded good about now. He headed for the cafeteria.

  Ten minutes later, he joined the professor, who was reading a computer slate as he finished his breakfast plate.

  “Oh,” Ludendorff said, looking up. “I wouldn’t expect to find you here. I figured we were jumping straight to Jarnevon.”

  Maddox sat, setting his plate on the table and using his knife and fork to cut a steak, popping a piece into his mouth. He ate runny egg afterward, using the hash browns to mop up the yellow yolk. Only then did he tell the professor about the flotilla heading for them.

  “That sounds like a small fleet to me,” Ludendorff said.

  “What’s your guess concerning their intentions?”

  “I see,” Ludendorff said. “Are they going to stop us from landing on the planet or will they attempt to intern Victory?”

  Maddox nodded.

  Ludendorff tapped his fork against his empty plate until he shrugged. “It could be either. Perhaps we should head straight for Earth.”

  “What if Earth is just as bad?”

  “That’s a Methuselah Man question,” Ludendorff said. “I have to constantly assess situations wherever I go. Perhaps that’s why I’ve put up with your arrogance all this time. Victory has been a safe harbor for me on many occasions.”

  “Either way,” Maddox said. “We’re not going to be able to test your headbands on Jarnevon. The aggressive fleet maneuvering means Nostradamus has outguessed us in this system.”

  “Not necessarily, but most likely you’re correct. I should have foreseen this. It was our obvious play, and Nostradamus would want to keep his origins as secret as possible from us in particular.” He nodded his white-haired head. “I submit that one of those battleships has a Long-Range Builder comm device. I would guess the flagship. That being the case, its captain would likely be controlled by Nostradamus or by one of his brain-augmented agents.”

  “That suggests exploring Jarnevon would be advantageous to us.”

  “Of course,” Ludendorff said.

  “Why?”

  “What kind of question is that? I have no idea other than what I’ve already proposed.”

  “Come, Professor, if anyone has more than one idea, it’s you.”

  Ludendorff seemed to preen, nodding afterward. “That’s true, that’s true. Well…why doesn’t Nostradamus want us to explore Jarnevon? We would discover something about him that we don’t already know.”

  “That he isn’t Liss?”

  “He’s Liss or a Liss creation,” Ludendorff said. “We’ve concluded Nostradamus must be some kind of computer. He must realize we would guess that. Galyan has seen a Liss computer firsthand—”

  Maddox snapped his fingers. He sat up and said, “Galyan, report.”

  The little holoimage appeared. “You called, sir?”

  Maddox told Galyan their conjectures. “Now, given all that, what is your conclusion?”

  Galyan’s eyelids fluttered until they didn’t. “I agree with the professor, sir. There is something critical Nostradamus wishes to hide from us.”

  “Question,” Maddox said. “Is that something worth our resisting the approaching battleships?”

  “The professor is correct,” Galyan said. “The fleet or flotilla commander will likely have a direct link to Nostradamus on Earth.”

  “Do you think that’s where Nostradamus is?”

  Galyan’s eyelids fluttered more. “That would be the strategically wisest location for Nostradamus to be.”

  “Really, Captain,” Ludendorff said. “I don’t need this ancient AI judging my views as correct or not. I should be weighing his views as right or wrong.”

  “I do not mean any disrespect, Professor,” Galyan said.

  “Well, I take it that way.”

  “We’ll stick to the issue,” Maddox said sternly. “What is Nostradamus hiding inside Jarnevon? Knowing would probably give us a greater clue as to his objectives or how he will succeed in gaining them—given that taking control of Star Watch is his ultimate aim.”

  “Ah…” Ludendorff said. “Shrewd, Captain, I think you’re right. I also think we’re not going to determine the answer through sheer brainpower. Nostradamus must have concluded that as well. He is a fearsome opponent, I must say.”

  “What you have just said is mere conjecture,” Galyan replied.

  “Maybe you see that way,” Ludendorff said primly. “I happen to recognize brilliance. But then it often takes genius to recognize genius. Nostradamus is a genius, and I believe he is outmaneuvering us all along the way. Perhaps he’s playing for time.” Ludendorff snapped his fingers. “Here’s something to consider. Nostradamus may not want us to see how empty of Bosks Jarnevon has become. He may have readied the crazies for just such a day as this. Maybe the time he took Mary O’Hara captive—through the Draegars, I mean—was with this endgame in view.”

  Maddox set his knife and fork on the empty plate. He’d polished off breakfast in record time. He wiped his hands, stood, and threw the napkin onto his plate.

  “I appreciate the comments,” the captain said. “They’re going to come in handy.”

  “How?” asked Ludendorff.

  Maddox grinned at him before he headed for the hatch. It was time to get back to the bridge.

  -12-

  Seven and a half hours later, Maddox faced Rear Admiral Kaelyn Neema of Vega from his command chair. She was on the main screen. The Jarnevon-based fleet and Victory were still closing in on each other, but they were close enough now for rapid communication, but still too far apart for beam weaponry to reach each other.

  “Captain,” Kaelyn said. She was in her early forties, one of the up-and-coming admirals, known for her creative turn of mind and adherence to orders. She had short dark hair, dark eyes and chiseled, plain features. “The planet is under quarantine. You must desist your acce
leration and decelerate so we can board and search your vessel.”

  “Quarantine,” Maddox said. “That sounds serious. What happened?”

  “A toxic virus has spread among the population. It is highly contagious. Tens of thousands of people have died, including far too many Star Watch personnel.”

  “Ah…” Ludendorff said, who stood well back of Maddox. “That’s a neat little cover story.”

  “Did you say something, Captain?” the rear admiral asked from the screen.

  “No,” Maddox said.

  “I thought I heard mumbling.”

  Maddox shook his head. “Do you think the Bosks engineered the virus?”

  “I do not. I don’t think anyone engineered it. The deaths…it’s a ghastly plague, Captain. Now, do as I say and began decelerating.”

  “How long has the quarantine been in effect?” asked Maddox.

  “That is not the issue. Your compliance with Star Watch regulations is.”

  “Oh, we’ll comply, Admiral. You can be sure of that.”

  “Then, begin decelerating,” she said.

  “Just a moment, please,” Maddox said. “Helm, begin a long turning maneuver. I want to head straight for the Laumer Point.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” Keith said.

  On the main screen, Rear Admiral Kaelyn Neema leaned forward. “Are you deliberately trying to goad me, sir?”

  Maddox appeared surprised. “On no account, Admiral. I’m obeying your orders. I recognize the quarantine as dangerous. The virus must burn itself out on Jarnevon before it spreads elsewhere.”

  “I told you to stop.”

  “We are,” Maddox said.

  “You’re making a turning maneuver,” she said in outrage.

  “Correct,” Maddox said.

  The rage evaporated as the rear admiral blinked at him several times. She blinked longer. “Just a moment, Captain. I must confer—”

  “Of course,” Maddox said, interrupting. He turned to Valerie and made a slicing motion across his throat.

  The lieutenant was used to his unusual methods and cut the connection.

  “What are you trying to prove?” asked Ludendorff, who rushed forward.