The Lost Star Gate (Lost Starship Series Book 9)

by Vaughn Heppner

  SF Books by Vaughn Heppner

  THE A.I. SERIES:

  A.I. Destroyer

  The A.I. Gene

  A.I. Assault

  A.I. Battle Station

  A.I. Battle Fleet

  EXTINCTION WARS SERIES:

  Assault Troopers

  Planet Strike

  Star Viking

  Fortress Earth

  Target: Earth

  LOST STARSHIP SERIES:

  The Lost Starship

  The Lost Command

  The Lost Destroyer

  The Lost Colony

  The Lost Patrol

  The Lost Planet

  The Lost Earth

  The Lost Artifact

  The Lost Star Gate

  Visit VaughnHeppner.com for more information

  The Lost Star Gate

  (Lost Starship 9)

  by Vaughn Heppner

  Illustration © Tom Edwards

  TomEdwardsDesign.com

  Copyright © 2018 by the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

  -PROLOGUE-

  Six thousand, two hundred and fourteen light-years from Earth, a Swarm science fleet entered a haunted star system in the Sagittarius Spiral Arm.

  The Hive Master commanding the fleet knew nothing about weirdness, eeriness or such concepts as haunted, wretched or even evil. They were Swarm creatures, insectile, primarily driven by hunger and chemically induced obedience to higher Swarm authorities.

  The Hive Master had his orders and he obeyed. Certainly, he understood the statistically improbable number of times a Swarm expedition had failed to return from this star system, and for no known reason. But he did not attach any good or evil ideal to this. He merely took necessary precautions as the massed science fleet—five thousand vessels strong—neared the only artificial object detected in the otherwise normal-seeming system.

  It was true that the closer the science vessels approached to the strange object, the higher the number of instances of disobedience rose throughout the fleet. But even Swarm creatures experienced anomalies at times or had mutations that caused stupidity, imbecility or an antisocial streak that when discovered brought swift eradication to the mutant insect.

  The problem for the Hive Master and the Regulators under him was that Swarm society did not understand group madness.

  Many hundreds of ship sensors indicated unclassified emanations radiating from the…from the giant silver pyramidal object slowly rotating in the stellar darkness.

  The shape and color of the object matched the specifics for what the unconventional Swarm creature known as Commander Thrax Ti Ix had once informed the Imperial Queen was a Builder nexus. As important was the knowledge that a nexus could produce a hyper-spatial tube, which would allow the Imperium to expand faster because a hyper-spatial tube permitted a swift journey many thousands of light-years in length.

  The Hive Master clacked his pincers once he understood that the object out there was indeed a Builder nexus. The Imperium had precise orders regarding the sighting of such a structure. Thus, despite the statistically improbable number of reported “accidents” within the fleet since entering the star system, the Hive Master gave orders to advance with haste.

  Yet, the closer the fleet approached to the silver pyramid, the more quickly the number of reported “accidents” rose. Finally, the Hive Master admitted to himself an un-Swarm-like reaction to the artificial object slowly rotating in the stellar night.

  From an observatory node in the command vessel, the Hive Master studied the silver pyramid for several hours, wrestling with sensations within himself that he did not understand. Finally, he coined a term that was new among the Swarm to describe the will that radiated from within the Builder nexus: malignant.

  With growing weariness, the Hive Master returned to the control station, ensuring that the individual ships of the fleet continued their approach.

  Three hours and fifteen minutes later, communal madness engulfed the Swarm crews of the science vessels. They did not understand why or how they could have averted such a thing, but the insectile creatures began attacking each other with savage intensity.

  Five hours and nine minutes later, the last Swarm creature died from inflicted wounds. A Soldier had impaled the Hive Master one hour and twenty-three minutes ago, hacking him with glee. The Soldier had died four minutes later to a massed rush of Sensor Operators—who then turned on one another.

  In any case, the five thousand science vessels bearing the dead Swarm creatures cruised past the ancient haunted nexus in the Sagittarius Spiral Arm, unaware that their passage stirred the dreams of an evil thing that manipulated reality through the hidden undercurrents of the universe.

  Those stirrings would have drastic consequences for a race of hominids called Homo sapiens given to individual choices, creatures that understood madness, evil and good and courage. Would those concepts and their individuality help the humans against the thing in the nexus?

  Like most such questions in the universe, the answer was, that would depend…

  -1-

  ORION SPIRAL ARM

  TAU CETI SYSTEM

  Brigadier Mary O’Hara—the Chief of Star Watch Intelligence—wondered for the umpteenth time if it had been a mistake coming alone to the abandoned space station.

  The orbital was in the Tau Ceti System where thousands of junked and alien warships drifted aimlessly. Several years ago, a Swarm invasion fleet had steamrolled through the ambush set by Star Watch and the New Men. The radioactive furnace of the planet below was a grim reminder of the genocidal nature of the Swarm.

  That the ghost station still had functioning gravity plates astounded the Iron Lady. Somebody must have fixed the plates, and she didn’t think the Swarm had done it.

  Four days ago, O’Hara had arrived in-system aboard a Bismarck-class battleship, an elder vessel. No other warship had dropped out of the Laumer Point with the Moltke.

  As per O’Hara’s instructions, the battleship was presently one billion, three hundred and forty-seven million kilometers from the station. She’d traveled from the battleship in a shuttle, alone, of course.

  Mary O’Hara was an older woman of nondescript size wearing a bulky vacuum suit. She had a blaster in her gloved right fist and attached to her helmet was a lamp that swept an otherwise dark, debris-littered, station corridor.

  She’d carefully picked her way through the gutted station for an hour and a half already. It was neutral ground, he’d told her, yet another precondition for a face-to-face meeting with him.

  That she had agreed to his many terms showed not only her desperation but also that of Star Watch and the greater Commonwealth of Planets.

  She reached another hatch, noting that this one was already open. Hmm… All the other hatches had been tightly sealed, only unlocking after she’d punched in an override code.

  That had been another odd factor to find on what had originally seemed like a junked space station.

  O’Hara looked around, her solitary beam washing over ruptured deck plates and torn bulkheads. She activated a suit-sensor, but only detected her own bio readings.

  Despite that, O’Hara’s stomach tightened as a feeling of unease grew. Was someone watching her? It had been decades since she’d gone on an assignment like this. She was supp
osed to trust her instincts, but she wondered if this was a case of nerves, especially as backup was days away.

  Re-gripping the blaster and resolving to fight through any trap rather than allowing anyone to capture her, O’Hara ducked her helmeted head, stepping into another debris-littered corridor.

  She exhaled with relief and silently chided herself at the same time as she moved along the new corridor.

  The man she had come to meet was a charlatan and a scoundrel on many levels. But he had good reasons to fear her. He had only agreed to a face-to-face with such stringent requirements as she was performing. Still, if she ever got her hands on him—

  Lights snapped on along the ceiling, one right after another, illuminating the corridor, showing old burn and blast marks on the bulkheads.

  O’Hara jerked in surprise.

  A beam flashed down the corridor, a perfect strike, hitting her blaster. The metal and plastic began to melt, some of it dripping onto her glove.

  Within her helmet, O’Hara screamed at the violent heat transfer. She let go and snatched her hand from the ruined weapon, but not quite fast enough. The palm of her glove smoked.

  Then, her training took over. With deliberate speed, she unhooked a canister with her left hand and sprayed the smoking glove. The goop resealed any possible breach and cooled her heated palm.

  O’Hara sweated heavily—her suit’s air conditioner had snapped on, blowing cold air against her—and she might have fainted from the pain. Fortunately, her bio computer ordered the suit’s medikit. It injected her with painkillers and a special stim.

  The brigadier blinked rapidly as the nausea passed, finally becoming aware of a tall individual at the end of the corridor. He did not wear a spacesuit, but a silver garment. He had dark hair and golden-colored skin—he was New Man, and he held the weapon that had destroyed her blaster.

  O’Hara turned around. Another New Man blocked the way. He must have stepped through and closed the hatch after she’d entered the corridor.

  That didn’t make sense, though. Her sensor should have spotted him.

  For just a moment, O’Hara closed her eyes. She’d taken a wild risk and lost. Was it time to take a kill pill? Maybe she should try to play it out first and see where it went. She could always swallow the pill inside the false tooth in her mouth.

  With her chin, O’Hara activated the helmet speaker.

  “Where’s Professor Ludendorff?” she asked the first New Man, the one who had beamed her blaster.

  Maybe she should have kept her eyes on the second golden-skinned bastard. She heard a click and felt a sudden sharp pain in the back of her left thigh.

  Her eyelids drooped as a terrible sluggishness swept over her. With agonizing slowness, she turned to the second New Man. He held a dart pistol. O’Hara looked down at her suit. A dart had been stuck in the back of her left thigh.

  He drugged me with a fast-acting trank.

  A horrible sense of loss filled the brigadier. O’Hara did not want to die. But under no condition would she let New Men capture her.

  Both golden-skinned supermen raced for her. She smiled because they reminded her of Captain Maddox.

  That was all she had time for.

  Brigadier Mary O’Hara, the Chief of Star Watch Intelligence, bit down on the false tooth, cracking it. She pried out the kill pill with her tongue, crushed the substance with her teeth and swallowed hard.

  The New Men reached O’Hara as her eyelids fluttered. It was the last thing she knew.

  -2-

  O’Hara opened bleary eyes. She lay on her back on a table, feeling horrible. She ached all over and was beginning to shiver.

  Groaning, she twisted her head to the side and tried to vomit. There was nothing left in her stomach, though. She began trembling after the heaving passed.

  How was this even possible? She had swallowed the kill pill. She should be dead. She should—

  The New Men!

  O’Hara closed her eyes as she gathered her resolve. The two must have revived her. The pill had taken effect, but not quite fast enough. Through their superior science, they had kept her from dying. Now, they would likely pump her for critical Star Watch information. They would learn things. They might implant an obedience chip in her brain, turning her against Star Watch as a secret spy for the enemy.

  O’Hara groaned with despair.

  “Tut, tut,” a familiar voice said. “It can’t be all that bad.”

  O’Hara opened her eyes again, but her vision was blurry. She could not see anything definite.

  “She is going into shock.”

  “Well, fix her,” the familiar voice said. “This is crucial.”

  After a fuzzy time, the shivering ceased. The aches in her body lessened. She no longer felt like vomiting.

  Had she passed out and come to again?

  Yes. O’Hara had the sense of the passage of time, but she didn’t know for how long. It could have been seconds. It could have been hours. Could it have been days?

  She opened her eyes. They focused. She saw the ceiling above her. It was ordinary enough for a space station. It seemed clean, unmarred, as if nothing bad had ever happened to it.

  She had a blanket over her body. She pulled off the covers and noticed that she was still wearing her Star Watch uniform. She yanked the blanket all the way off. She was not wearing boots, but she still had her socks on.

  O’Hara glanced around. Medical machines hummed around her. This was a moderate-sized chamber.

  A hatch hissed as it went up.

  Professor Ludendorff came walking in, blowing over a cup of hot coffee. She could smell it. Her mouth watered and she was thankful it didn’t make her nauseous.

  The professor looked like a fit, older man with tanned skin, a golden chain around his neck and thick white hair. He was a Methuselah Man, ancient, filled with cunning knowledge gained over who knew how many centuries.

  “Good morning, Brigadier,” Ludendorff said in a cheerful voice.

  He moved to a chair, sat down and blew across the coffee again before taking a sip. He closed his eyes in contentment before opening them and looking at her.

  “It’s the first sip that’s always the best,” he explained. “One has to sleep for a full night before another sip will taste as good the next morning. Isn’t that a strange phenomenon?”

  O’Hara groaned as she sat up and swung her feet off the table. With a sudden jerk, one of her hands flew up to her scalp where she carefully felt for surgery scars. She found nothing.

  “I’m not like Strand,” Ludendorff chided.

  “But you have New Men in your employ like Strand.”

  “What?” Ludendorff asked. “That’s preposterous.”

  O’Hara stared at the charlatan. She never should have agreed to meet with him. Star Watch could figure out its own answer to the great dilemma. Even as she thought that, O’Hara knew it was false. The problem was too big for Star Watch.

  “I know what I saw,” she told him.

  Ludendorff leaned forward as he set the coffee cup on a nearby stand. “Pray tell, what did you see?”

  O’Hara wondered if he was trying to trick her.

  “Why am I here?” she asked.

  “Because you begged to see me,” he said. “Don’t you remember your calls over the long-range communicator?”

  She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. Why did I fall ill?”

  “You swallowed a suicide pill, my dear. What else did you expect from such an act?”

  “Exactly,” she said. “Why did I swallow the pill?”

  “As far as I can tell,” he said, “your action was induced by paranoia. I suspect the paranoia struck because you’re not used to being on your own like this.”

  Once more, O’Hara shook her head. “No. New Men burned my blaster and shot me with a knockout dart. I swallowed the pill so they couldn’t capture me and turn me into a mind slave. They must have saved me from the—”

  “Excuse me,” Ludendorff said,
interrupting. “I saved you.”

  “Fine. Where are the New Men?”

  “Gone,” Ludendorff said.

  “You’re lying, although I’m glad you finally admitted I did see New Men.”

  Ludendorff scowled before picking up the cup and sipping.

  “How long have I been out?” O’Hara asked.

  “Twenty-one hours and sixteen minutes.”

  “Oh. You must realize that the Moltke is coming for me.”

  Ludendorff nodded, taking another sip.

  “Unless you have star cruisers nearby, you’re going to have to run soon if you want to remain free.”

  “There are no New Men in the Tau Ceti System,” Ludendorff said.

  “Were those two working for you?”

  “On no account,” Ludendorff said.

  “But New Men were here. You already admitted—”

  “Yes, yes, they were here. They were here, and they shot and drugged you. Now, does that satisfy you?”

  “Why did you lie to me a few moments ago?”

  Ludendorff shrugged.

  “Did you try a new drug on me, wanting to test its effects?”

  Ludendorff said nothing.

  “Give me some coffee,” O’Hara said suddenly.

  Ludendorff cocked his head, stood after a moment, held out his cup and approached her.

  “No,” O’Hara said. “I want a fresh cup, a hot cup. I like boiling hot coffee.”

  Ludendorff stared at her before abruptly turning and leaving the medical chamber the same way he had come in.

  O’Hara slid off the table. She took a step and almost lost her balance, staggering several steps before catching herself on a medical machine. She studied the machine.

  Yes. This was a revival unit. She had swallowed the kill pill. She had done so for the reasons she stated. Why then—

  The hatch slid up sooner than she’d expected and Ludendorff walked through, stopping upon seeing her up. He grinned a second later, walking near and gingerly handing her a cup of steaming coffee.