The Lost Earth (Lost Starship Series Book 7)

by Vaughn Heppner

“Sergeant?” asked Maddox.

  “I wish I knew,” Riker said with his head hunched. “I hate the Ska. They’re barbarians at the gates. They’re just like the Swarm. Too bad we couldn’t send the Ska at the Swarm.”

  “That would be risky,” Ludendorff said. “The Ska might attempt to king itself and lead the Swarm to even greater devastation.”

  “Would repeated nuclear blasts hurt the Ska?” Maddox asked the professor.

  “I find that doubtful,” Ludendorff said. “The reason is simple, really. If all it took were a few nuclear explosions, why didn’t the Builders do that in their day?”

  Maddox looked around the table, seeing if anyone had anything to add.

  “The Destroyers annihilated flesh and blood,” Dana said slowly, “yet the Ska seem to thrive off heightened negative emotions.”

  “Would laughter and joy wound it, then?” Meta asked.

  “I wouldn’t think so,” Ludendorff said. “If it warms itself through extreme fear, joy would simply be a lack of warmth.”

  “How do you know that joy and laughter wouldn’t be like freezing cold?” Maddox asked. “A man caught in a snowstorm can freeze to death.”

  “How do you aim joy and laughter?” the professor asked.

  “How does a non-physical creature warm itself off terror?” the captain countered.

  “I think that’s a critical question,” Dana said. “If we could answer that, we might be that much closer to our solution.”

  “I don’t agree,” Ludendorff told her. “The Builders—”

  “Aren’t gods,” Dana said in a huff. “And the Ska aren’t demons,” she told Maddox. “They’re alien entities. The Ska thought of the Builders as the computer people.”

  “Which is meaningless to our discussion,” Ludendorff told her.

  Maddox wondered if the professor and Dana had had an argument in the past few hours. It seemed likely from the way they were acting.

  “Did the Ska directly kill people?” Maddox asked.

  “That seems obvious,” Ludendorff said.

  “If it’s so obvious,” the captain said, “why did the Ska employ the hard material machines and the clickers? Why not go as themselves, especially if no one could kill them?”

  Ludendorff opened his mouth to rebut the idea—

  “Think about what he said before you rattle off an answer,” Dana told him.

  The professor regarded the doctor.

  “It’s a reasonable question,” Dana added.

  Ludendorff rubbed his chin, nodding a moment later. “Yes, I suppose it is. Perhaps…perhaps we’ve been looking at this the wrong way.”

  “How do you mean?” Maddox asked.

  “Instead of asking what can kill the Ska,” Ludendorff said. “We should be asking how the Ska can influence or touch material objects. Those objects would include people, clickers and stars.”

  “I would say they influenced those things through the Destroyers,” Maddox said. “Yet, according to the Fisher mural, the Ska entered the star and caused it to expand prematurely.”

  “The Fishers shined lights at the cloud,” Ludendorff said, “the representation of the Ska.”

  “Not necessarily,” Dana said.

  “Must you object to everything I say?” Ludendorff asked testily.

  Dana turned away as a secret smile slid into place. Maddox saw that. He wasn’t sure the professor did.

  “Are you suggesting the Ska built the cloud?” Ludendorff demanded.

  “What does the cloud represent?” Dana asked, facing him.

  “The Ska,” Ludendorff nearly shouted.

  “The cloud is material,” Dana said. “The Ska is immaterial.”

  Ludendorff rubbed his forehead. “This is making my brain sore.”

  “Go on,” Maddox told Dana.

  The doctor frowned thoughtfully. “I’m not sure what I mean. I am beginning to think the Ska operates on a psionic plane.”

  “Telepathy?” asked Maddox.

  “I know,” Dana said. “That is a rubber science, as people say. We haven’t found a telepathic race, and certainly humans have shown no ability at reading minds or foretelling the future. Yet, the Ska are not like us. They come from a different reality. But what does that mean?” She shrugged.

  “That doesn’t help us find a weapon to defeat the Ska,” Maddox said.

  Ludendorff snapped his fingers. “It just may, Captain. It just may.”

  Dana stared at the professor. The professor returned her scrutiny.

  “What if the Ska use telepathy, psionics, whatever word you wish to use?” Ludendorff said, “in order to communicate with their creatures? I would suggest it even goes farther than that. They use this psionic ability to absorb fear. It’s how they sense the warmth, as the creature in Riker put it. The psionic ability is the Ska’s hands. Unfortunately for them, this telepathy cannot act in a telekinetic manner. Remember, telekinesis is the ability of mind to move material objects. But the Ska cannot do this. If they could, they would not have needed the Destroyers. The Destroyers acted as their material weapon, their gun. That gun killed in order to create terror. The terror is what the Ska feeds off. I suppose a crude analogy would be a man using a hammer to break an oyster in order to get to the meat inside. The man can’t use his hands to pry open the oyster, but he can manipulate a hammer.”

  “That is an inelegant analogy,” Dana said.

  Ludendorff scowled.

  “But it does make your point,” the doctor admitted.

  Ludendorff nodded curtly.

  “Wait,” Valerie said. “If the Ska can’t do anything directly to material objects, how did it make the first Destroyer and the clickers who run it?”

  Everyone stared in silence at Valerie.

  “I don’t know,” Dana finally said.

  “Maybe the Ska stole the first Destroyers,” Ludendorff said. “It hijacked the hard material machines from others. After that, the clickers always built more of their kind.”

  “And Ska can control the clickers?” Valerie asked.

  “That seems self-evident,” Ludendorff said.

  Valerie tugged at her lower lip. “Wouldn’t that mean that each Destroyer has some sort of psionic receiver in its command center? This receiver gives the orders. Maybe this receiver knows terror unless it obeys its Ska master.”

  Ludendorff shook his head. “That is a marvelous insight, Lieutenant. I’m impressed. Yes. I think you’re right.”

  Valerie beamed at the professor’s rare compliment.

  “Suppose this is so,” Maddox said. “Ska cannot directly…touch or manipulate hard matter. They use the Destroyers to terrify, and in the center of each machine is a control unit that it can terrify. How then could the ego-fragment terrify Riker and the Spacer messenger so easily?”

  “Interesting,” Ludendorff said with growing excitement. “That’s because the Ska telepathy can…touch a human mind. With the telepathy, the Ska can turn dials in the human mind, so to speak. The mind controls the body, and the rest is history.”

  Maddox thought about that.

  “I see your point,” Dana told the professor. “So instead of looking for a weapon to destroy the Ska—”

  “Which no one seems capable of doing,” Ludendorff added.

  “Right, right,” Dana said. “Instead of searching for a nonexistent weapon, we should be looking for a defense against the Ska’s telepathy.”

  “Telepathy or psionics are merely words we’re using to describe a thing the Ska does,” Ludendorff said. “I doubt it is like telepathy as we think of it, but it’s the closest concept we have to what the Ska is doing.”

  “If this is true,” Maddox said. “Why didn’t the Builders figure it out?”

  “I don’t know,” Ludendorff said.

  “Maybe because they’re the computing people,” Dana said. “Maybe Builders don’t have emotions like we do.”

  “Ah…” Ludendorff said. “So, the Ska couldn’t directly touch Builder minds.”


  “None of this makes sense,” Riker croaked.

  “Possibly not,” Ludendorff told him. “But maybe it gives us enough of an inkling that we can figure out a method that will work long enough for us to achieve our goal.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Maddox asked.

  The professor stared at Dana. “We have to come up with a device that protects the mind from this altered-reality Ska telepathy. That will allow the wearer of this device to power up the ancient Destroyers and pilot them through the white light.”

  “How do we manufacture the bright-light exit in the null region?” Maddox asked.

  “Figuring that out could be a problem,” Ludendorff admitted.

  “And how do we keep the Ska from coming through with us?” the captain asked.

  “The only way I can think of is by moving faster than the Ska does,” Ludendorff said.

  Maddox blinked several times. “Are you suggesting we’re going to be like kids racing through a yard, grabbing a ball and running out before the dog wakes up and mauls us?”

  “Right,” Ludendorff said. “That’s the essence of my plan.”

  “I’d rather have a weapon to kill the Ska,” Maddox said.

  “We don’t always get what we want,” Ludendorff said.

  Maddox nodded. It was a good point. “Very well,” he said. “Professor, I’m going to put you in charge of figuring out how to make the bright-light exit appear in the null region.”

  “I already know,” Ludendorff said.

  Maddox raised his eyebrows.

  “I’ll wave my magic wand,” the professor said.

  “What magic wand?” Meta asked.

  Ludendorff turned to Meta, pointed at her, and said, “Precisely.”

  -35-

  The days lengthened as the starship sped through Human Space. Ludendorff and Dana spent an inordinate amount of time together in the laboratory. At times, Galyan aided them.

  Meanwhile, Maddox prowled the corridors, speaking to his crew, reassuring them and judging their morale. He knew they were going to have to perform miracles if they were going to get into the null region, board the Destroyers, power them up, flee through the white light ahead of the Ska and make sure nothing evil from the Nameless Ones remained aboard the Destroyers.

  Riker spent more and more time alone. Maddox decided that was bad for the sergeant. He thus ordered Riker to work out with Meta and him. The sergeant walked on a treadmill at those times. But at least he wasn’t in his room, brooding.

  One day, Riker confided in Maddox, “Sir, I think I’m the weak link in the plan.”

  “How’s that, Sergeant?” Maddox had just racked his curl bar.

  “The Ska in the null region will certainly be able to sense me. I have the feeling I’m going to be like a neon light on an otherwise dark night.”

  Riker seemed to wrestle with his next words, finally saying, “You should drop me off at one of the Commonwealth Worlds.”

  Maddox shook his head. “That seems like a foolish waste of an asset.”

  “I don’t understand, sir.”

  “I think you do.”

  Riker stared at Maddox for a time. Finally, the sergeant shook his head. “You’ve already thought of that, haven’t you, sir?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “In some manner, you plan to use me, or the thing in me, to trick the Ska.”

  “The idea has occurred to me.” Maddox grew silent, finally adding, “Unfortunately, there might be some risk to you.”

  “I’d say there is going to be a lot of risk to me.”

  “Yes,” Maddox said.

  Riker turned away.

  “If you’d rather not do this…” Maddox said.

  “I’d rather not,” Riker said.

  “Oh,” Maddox said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

  “Except that I’m a member of Star Watch,” Riker said. “That means something, doesn’t it, sir?”

  Maddox watched him, waiting.

  “It means I have to put my money where my mouth is,” Riker growled. “It means that if I have to sacrifice myself for the good of the Service—”

  “It’s not going to come to that,” Maddox said.

  “You hope.”

  “I’ll do more than hope. I’ll strive with all my might.”

  Riker nodded. “I understand. We’re going balls out, aren’t we, sir?”

  “Yes,” Maddox said. “You could say that.”

  ***

  Over the next three weeks, they received news a few times. The New Men appeared to have agreed to aid the Commonwealth. The rumor mill said an armada of star cruisers was heading directly for Earth.

  “I wonder if that’s wise,” Meta said.

  Maddox handed her a dish of ice cream. They were in the cafeteria, sitting with Andros Crank.

  “From Earth, the Alliance Fleet will surely head to Tau Ceti or to whatever system the Swarm heads to after Tau Ceti,” Maddox said. “There’s another thing to consider. If the Swarm opens a second hyper-spatial tube, Earth is the obvious target. It’s best to have all the ships in one location waiting for the enemy.”

  “I do not think the Swarm will use the tube again anytime soon,” Andros said.

  “What’s the basis for your deduction?” Maddox asked.

  “If I were the Swarm overlord,” Andros said, “I’d already have created a second hyper-spatial tube directly into the Throne World System. It wouldn’t matter if I just sent a few Swarm warships. The threat would keep the star cruisers guarding the Throne World instead of coming to help the Commonwealth. In that way, I would defeat my enemies in detail.”

  “That’s sound strategic thinking,” Maddox admitted. “However, the lack of a second hyper-spatial tube isn’t conclusive evidence it doesn’t or can’t exist.”

  “No,” Andros said, “but it should give our side more confidence. If the Alliance Fleet can destroy the Swarm Invasion Fleet, that should eliminate the problem.”

  “That’s a big if,” Maddox said.

  “Can’t we talk about something else?” Meta asked, removing the spoon from her mouth.

  “Of course…” Maddox said.

  ***

  The ancient Adok starship left Human Space once more, heading into the Beyond. Ludendorff spent more and more time on the bridge, rather than in the laboratory.

  “We need more data,” the professor told Maddox.

  The captain sat at a sensor station, collecting information for the Patrol arm of Star Watch.

  At the professor’s words, Maddox looked up. “How much longer until we reach this ancient star system of yours?”

  “You know as well as I how soon,” Ludendorff said. “Seven more jumps should put us there.”

  “Should?” asked Maddox.

  “My information regarding the star system is not precise. It was simply as close as I could come. If the system proves barren, there are three other possibilities we should check.”

  Maddox turned back to the sensor board, but looked back up at Ludendorff a second later. “Time is critical.”

  “Captain, I am a wunderkind. There is no denying that. Yet, I am human after all, even if altered into an incredible specimen of intellect.”

  Maddox stood up, motioning to a warrant officer. He let the woman take his place at the sensor station. Moving to the command chair, Maddox told Ludendorff, “Have you ever wondered why you were the chosen one?”

  “Plenty of times,” Ludendorff said. “Why? Does that bother you regarding yourself?”

  Maddox shrugged and grew silent.

  “It’s a burden,” Ludendorff said shortly. “I decided a long time ago that I might as well enjoy my difference from everyone else. Otherwise, I might go mad or become depressed. A person can’t change who they are.”

  “I quite disagree,” Maddox said. “One can mold himself into many different forms.”

  “Yes, I suppose we each have a range of possibilities.” Ludendorff held o
ut his arms with about a meter between his hands. “One man can move within this realm of possibilities.” He moved his hands closer. “A different man can only go from this point to here. In the end, however, he is still the same man.”

  “It depends on how you define same.”

  “What’s your point, my boy?” Ludendorff asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about fate and responsibilities. We’re on a quest like a knight of old.”

  “No knight ever went on quests like this,” Ludendorff said. “Besides, those were fantasy stories.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Common sense tells me so,” Ludendorff said.

  “Yet, man is not always a sensible being. Sometimes he does the irrational. Some men kill themselves, some act cowardly, some are heroes—”

  “Are you going to do something irrational, Captain?”

  “I am.”

  Ludendorff stared at Maddox, finally nodding. “Yes, I suppose you have a point. We could be rushing to our doom, and doing it with considerable enthusiasm. We have no choice, though.”

  “Wrong,” Maddox said. “We have the greatest starship ever built. We could flee to the other end of the galaxy if we wanted.”

  “Could you live with yourself if you did that?”

  Maddox shook his head.

  “So, you don’t have a choice,” Ludendorff said.

  “There are always choices, Professor. Irrational thoughts batter at a man’s mind. So do sacrificial thoughts and those of love. In the end, we have to decide which thoughts to follow.”

  “Love…” Ludendorff said. He glanced sidelong at the captain. “How does one know if he should marry the…” he trailed off.

  “Here’s an easy maxim to apply to your situation,” Maddox said.

  “Which situation? Creating a defense against the Ska’s telepathy?”

  “Rate how you would feel if another man slept with Dana,” Maddox said. “If that would bother you, cherish her. If you would only be mildly annoyed, the two of you only have a short time left together. If you wouldn’t care or maybe you’d even be glad of it, get rid of the woman immediately.”

  “I’d kill such a man,” Ludendorff said.

  “Now that wasn’t so hard to figure out, was it?” Maddox asked.

  Ludendorff stared at the captain, then finally turned away, saying, “Bah! That’s an emotionalist system.”