The Lost Earth (Lost Starship Series Book 7)

by Vaughn Heppner

  Yet, Riker was a stubborn old coot if he was nothing else. He’d had to be stubborn to deal with Captain Maddox all these years. If one couldn’t deal via the direct route with the captain, one used a more perverse way to challenge the boy.

  Riker began to fight the hypnotic power of the eyes. He’d sat before a fire for hours tonight drinking his Scotch whiskey. He hadn’t heard much of the conversations going on around him. He’d been too busy trying to figure out whether he should retire or not.

  “Why…?” Riker said. After that, he could no longer form words.

  The power of the brightening eyes was starting to batter down the last vestiges of the sergeant’s resistance.

  “You do not know me,” the Spacer said. “I am, in fact, nobody as far as you are concerned.”

  “What?”

  The Spacer frowned in a troubled way. “I am unsure I shall survive our meeting, Sergeant. I am almost used up, almost finished with my dreadful task.”

  “Huh?”

  The eyes lost a bit of their power. The narrow face, now shining with sweat, seemed put out. “I don’t like this interference. I am referring to your…monosyllabic utterances. They are annoying. I demand that you cease them, at once.”

  Riker latched onto that with the remaining vestiges of his will. He struggled to speak.

  “Stop it,” the Spacer said.

  Riker’s head swayed back. He felt a force against his mind. It was like a heavy wet blanket attempting to subdue his thoughts. No…that wasn’t exactly right. It attempted to subdue his will.

  The sergeant struggled with mulish perseverance. He had to win this fight. He could not let the thing inside the Spacer—

  Riker’s eyes widened in horror and grim understanding. The Spacer was a vessel for something.

  “Wh…?” Riker said. It was all he could manage.

  The Spacer shook his head. “Your resistance is useless and annoying. You are also straining my final resources. Thus, I forbid you to speak. Do you hear that? Speech is forbidden you.”

  Riker struggled to pronounce a single syllable. He could not. He found his lips frozen, his teeth almost welded together. Some intuition deep in his soul told him he had to struggle to speak nonetheless. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t speak. He had to make the thing expend energy to keep his lips shut. That would allow him a chance later…maybe…if the sergeant still had a little luck on his side.

  “Why do you fight so hard?” the Spacer whispered. “I didn’t. I accepted the inevitable. Don’t you realize this is your fate? It has chosen you.”

  Riker’s staring eyes grew larger yet so the whites showed. He wanted to ask who had chosen him and why?

  The Spacer in the shiny suit moved to another couch. He pulled up on the edges of his pants over his knees, lifting the shiny fabric as he sat down. The small Spacer clasped his silvery-gloved hands together between his knees.

  “I am a messenger,” the Spacer said. “Soon, you will take my place. You will carry the message to its terminus.”

  The Spacer must mean that he, Riker, would carry the entity inside him. What was happening? Where did this thing come from?

  The Spacer took a small item from a suit pocket. As he clicked it, a shiny sharp blade popped up.

  “It is almost time,” the Spacer said. He reversed the blade so the point aimed at his suit. With a sharp, swift motion, the man stabbed himself in the chest. The blade went in deep as the man kept pushing. He grunted painfully nonetheless. The Spacer let go of the handle as blood welled in his mouth.

  “I’m almost finished,” the Spacer wheezed. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to pass on the charge. I’m weary of life, Sergeant. I suppose in a few moments you’re going to understand what I mean.”

  The Spacer smiled, showing bloodstained teeth. “Any second now,” he whispered. “Then, you will know…”

  -3-

  Riker sat on the couch, numb with horror and frozen by a strange paralysis. The self-induced knife-thrust sickened him. He yearned to shout in dismay. He struggled to demand an answer from the demented Spacer.

  Yet…Riker knew something else was at work. If he believed in demons, he would say the man had one. Yet, Riker had been in Star Watch Intelligence and in the Patrol too long to subscribe to such an old-fashioned answer. He had seen some crazy aliens in his time. Surely, the Spacer carried an alien thing in him.

  The sergeant half-expected to see a slimy wormy thing ooze out of the knife-made opening in the chest. Did a parasitical creature control the Spacer? If that was true, what gave the parasite the mind power it radiated?

  “I reject the idea that you’re mentally stronger than me,” the Spacer wheezed. “I have trained my entire life to understand the unusual. I have two modifications. I can see electromagnetic phenomena. I know that you cannot. I can also analyze data faster than ordinary with my computer enhancement. That it chose me makes perfect sense. I have no idea why it desires a beat-up old relic like you.”

  Riker saw blood stain the shiny suit where the knife was sticking out. The Spacer sat back now, wearing the knife like an ornament. He made gurgling noises in the back of his throat.

  The two of them waited in silence.

  The blood from the knife wound kept soaking into the suit. It seemed to flow more easily now. The Spacer’s life weakened as the redness in his suit grew larger.

  “Last voyage…” the Spacer suddenly wheezed. “Your captain found something last voyage. I believe it happened quite by accident. He entered a null realm. Did he tell you about it?”

  Riker was frozen. He couldn’t even shift an eyebrow.

  “Oh,” the Spacer wheezed. “Your captain said nothing, eh? That is interesting. I wonder why the captain kept the knowledge to himself. Do you know he spotted two…I believe you call them Destroyers? You did not even know the species name that made the war vessels. Someone has called them the Nameless Ones. They were not nameless. Oh no, Sergeant Riker, they have a profound name. It has been my horror to learn that name much more intimately than I would have ever desired.”

  Riker swayed back the slightest bit. This had something to do with a neutroium-hulled Destroyer?

  “Where did you acquire such stubborn strength of will?” the Spacer whispered. “It is maddening. If I cannot complete the transfer, my last year of existence and this hideous burden will have all been in vain. Do not do that to me, Sergeant.”

  Riker’s lips parted the slightest bit, emitting a slight croak.

  The dying Spacer’s eyes swirled with horrible force. The power slammed against Riker’s mind. He almost passed out, his eyelids drooping—

  Riker croaked another sound.

  “Maddox is going to need the Destroyers, you old fool,” the Spacer whispered. “That is a small price to pay for freeing me.”

  “What…?” Riker whispered.

  “Do you think I could come with my full being? No, no. The Builders fashioned their trap too cunningly for that. They were wily foes, the cleverest we ever faced. They caught me, caught three of my vessels. Now, the Swarm has come to Human Space, Sergeant. They will obliterate your puny race from existence. That is certain. Your paltry fleets cannot destroy them. You need more. The Juggernauts might help, but there are too few of them to turn the tide. What, then, can save your witless race? Clearly, two Destroyers would tip the balance in your race’s favor. I can give you the two powerhouses. Their price is my freedom.”

  “Who…?”

  “Yes, who am I and how did I snap up this wisp of a Spacer into my service? How did I force him to carry a fragment of my ego in himself all these lonely months? I am much greater than you realize. You are a mite before me. Know that your captain woke me from an endless slumber. I used the opening he created with Starship Victory when he escaped the null realm. It appears he wisely kept silent about me, about my Destroyers. But now the need is hard upon humanity. Now is the moment I knew must eventually arrive. You, Sergeant Riker, shall carry my ego-fragment to your ca
ptain. Then…”

  The dying Spacer laughed maniacally, blood dribbling onto his chin. He coughed afterward with long drawn out wheezes.

  “Finally,” the Spacer whispered. “I am almost dead, Sergeant. That’s the only way to pass the thing on to you. I am sick of life. I still can’t believe—”

  The Spacer abruptly stopped talking. He put his bloodied gloved hands onto his knees and grunted horribly, spraying spittle and blood as he rose to his feet.

  The Spacer had glazed eyes. With a slow, deliberate movement, he used his left hand to tug at the fingertips of the right-hand glove. Finally, he gripped the loosened fingers of the glove and pulled the bloody, shiny cloth from his hand.

  Riker blanched in renewed terror.

  The hand had turned a mottled green color. It stank, too. Worse, it pulsated with a weird radiating light.

  “I have been dying for some time,” the Spacer whispered. “It is possible I began dying the moment the ego-fragment entered my being. Now, you shall begin to die, Sergeant Riker.”

  On unsteady legs, the Spacer bumped against the rattan table, shoving it out of the way.

  Riker strained to move. He could not. He strained so hard his heart pounded with fierce beats. His vision swam before him.

  “Now,” the Spacer said. He reached down with his rotted shining hand and grasped Riker’s bionic hand.

  Nothing seemed to happen.

  The dying Spacer frowned. He gazed at Riker.

  “Oh,” the Spacer wheezed. “Hm.... I believe this should help.”

  He squeezed the bionic hand. His own rotted hand glowed more fiercely.

  Riker’s head jerked minutely. He stared in horror at his metal hand. Glowing force grew on the Spacer’s hand, transferring to his metal appendage.

  Riker’s heart beat manically. He roared with raw force. That unleashed him. Sergeant Riker stood. He used the bionic arm, hurling the bleeding Spacer from him.

  The Spacer landed on the rug in a crumpled heap.

  “Too late,” the Spacer wheezed. “It’s too late now. I have made the transfer. The ego-fragment is on you, Sergeant Riker. It will seep into your—”

  “No!” Riker howled in desperation. He tore the blaster from its rig under his shoulder. He used his flesh and bone hand to do it. Aiming at the glowing bionic hand, Riker pulled the trigger.

  A torrent of energy burned from the blaster. It made the metal glow hotter, hotter, and began to devour the bionic appendage. He burned his bionic hand continuously, until it dropped heavily onto the rug, making that area burst into fire.

  “No,” the Spacer wheezed. He struggled to rise.

  Riker backed away from his fallen bionic hand. He stared at the Spacer in horror, turned the blaster on him.

  The fumes of molten metal and burned flesh and bone made Riker retch until he coughed hoarsely. He couldn’t stay here. He had to run away, get away from the thing.

  No, something said in his mind. You are mine by right of conquest.

  Riker dropped the blaster and fled for the stairs. He tripped, tumbling down them head over heels. He crumpled at the bottom landing dazed and hurt, with blood dripping from his nose.

  It didn’t matter. He had to escape this place. He had to leave so he could get far away from the ego-fragment. This thing was evil beyond anything he’d ever faced.

  With a cry of despair, Sergeant Riker climbed to his feet and fled into the balmy Kauai night.

  -4-

  SEVEN DAYS LATER

  Aboard Starship Victory, Captain Maddox was wearing shorts and gym shoes as he stalked around a heavy bag. His fists were heavily wrapped and raised for combat.

  He was tall, with handsome features, dark hair and whip-corded muscles.

  One moment, he stalked around the bag. The next, he moved in, throwing a flurry of blows. They were faster than an ordinary man could strike, each one thudding hard, making the heavy bag swing a little more.

  Captain Maddox was half New Man and half regular Homo sapien. He had a faster than normal metabolism and intense intelligence.

  Maddox had recently returned to duty from his honeymoon. Meta was still on Earth, looking for a new place to rent as their home. She’d become dissatisfied with his old apartment.

  Maddox stepped back from the heavy bag, beginning to stalk around it again. Although sweat had begun to shine on his lean physique, his efforts had not even caused him to breathe hard.

  It was different being married. He liked it. He loved Meta. They had spent a glorious two weeks together. They’d had two quarrels in that time, each resolved in an hour.

  Maddox stepped at the bag, hammering it before sidestepping away.

  He often did his best thinking while hitting the bag.

  The Lord High Admiral and the Brigadier of Star Watch Intelligence had holed up in Star Watch HQ in Geneva, Switzerland. Something was troubling them. Maddox was certain that something dire had occurred that neither of them wanted anyone else to know.

  Maddox was not unduly concerned about that. What did trouble him was that Sergeant Riker had gone missing. No one seemed to know where he was. As far as Maddox could learn, there had been an incident in a Kauai condo at the Plantation. There was a burn mark on the carpet of Room 142 with specks of blood hidden in the rug, both facts that the police investigators had not reported.

  Two days ago, Maddox had requested Star Watch Intelligence to check into the matter. Major Stokes had assured him he would look into it personally. So far, nothing had happened. Maddox had contacted Stokes earlier this morning. The major had told him not to worry about it; the investigation was proceeding well. Intelligence would soon find Riker.

  In the gym aboard Starship Victory, Maddox moved toward the heavy bag once more. He landed body blows one after another. They were shockingly powerful strikes. They—

  Maddox stepped back abruptly, letting his long arms swing at his sides.

  “Galyan,” he said.

  A second later, an Adok holoimage appeared. The image possessed deep-set eyes in a strangely lined alien face. He was a deified alien AI, the last member of a lost race.

  “I’ve decided to accelerate the Riker investigation,” Maddox told Galyan.

  “I believe that is a euphemism,” Galyan said in a slightly robotic voice. “What you really mean is that you are about to take matters into your own hands.”

  No hint of a smile appeared on the captain’s lips. This one smelled funny. Maddox simply said, “Major Stokes is lying.”

  The holoimage floated back a few centimeters. “I am curious as to how you deduced this, sir.”

  “There are too many anomalies present. First, Stokes would have moved mountains to find Riker if he thought someone had murdered or kidnapped the sergeant. Second, the specks of blood in the rug in Room 142 should have goaded the Kauai police to greater action. It did nothing of the kind. Instead, the police stonewalled me.”

  “Are you going to the scene of the crime for a second look?”

  Instead of answering, Maddox said, “I’m surprised you haven’t already analyzed the situation.”

  The holographic AI only hesitated for a fraction of a second before saying, “I assume you realize I have analyzed it and are chiding me for doing so. Did I presume upon a liberty I did not actually possess?”

  “What was your conclusion?” the captain asked.

  “To the situation or to your probable response?”

  “To…my response,” Maddox said.

  “I have concluded that you are not going to waste time investigating on the ground. Instead, you are going to request that I infiltrate classified Star Watch computers to find out what they know about Riker.”

  “That’s not bad, but wrong,” Maddox said.

  Galyan’s eyelids fluttered. It meant his AI unit was processing. “Let me rephrase. You will not request I do this, but order it.”

  “There won’t be anything about Riker on classified Star Watch computers that we don’t already know,” Maddox said.<
br />
  “I do not understand how you have arrived at this conclusion.”

  “The information we seek will be in the Brigadier’s personal files.”

  “How do you know this?” Galyan asked, sounding genuinely interested.

  “Through intuition,” Maddox said.

  “That is not logical. Intuition is merely a person’s subconscious arriving at a conclusion before the conscious mind does so. The subconscious uses logical references to achieve this. Thus, I should easily be able to duplicate your subconscious’ process.”

  “What does that tell you that you didn’t?”

  Once more, Galyan’s eyelids fluttered. “You have received information that I do not yet possess.”

  “Wrong. The correct answer is that my intuition is still superior to your logic processors.”

  Galyan studied the captain before nodding in a noncommittal manner.

  “What?” Maddox said, almost sounding nettled.

  “Nothing,” Galyan said.

  “Have I hurt your feelings?”

  Galyan did not reply.

  “I…request that you tell me what’s bothering you,” Maddox said.

  “You will not like my findings, sir,” Galyan warned.

  Maddox raised an eyebrow.

  “But I will honor your request as a command,” the AI said. “The statement regarding your superiority is an indicator of your New Man parentage. You have continued to slip into their arrogant patterns of—”

  “That’s enough,” Maddox said, interrupting with the hint of a frown.

  Galyan fell silent, waiting.

  “My statement struck home,” Maddox said. “Thus, you attempt to strike back at…” He shook his head, and began to unwrap the binding from around his fists, revealing a gold wedding band on his left ring finger. It was his only piece of adornment.