Centurion Fjallheim apparently took notice of their rubbernecking and with the touch of a switch he turned the windows opaque. Soon after, it came time for Alexander and his flight to get in line for their mess. This wasn’t strictly neccessary; of course, the processors could just as easily have been strategically placed on the tables. However, like many things at the Academy the onerous process of getting into line, getting your food and returning to the table with time enough to eat was a learning experience. The mundane chore repeated three times every day drummed efficiency and discipline into what would otherwise be a wasted two-and-a-half hours a day. The Academy was not about to lose that time. Instead, the cadets followed exactly the same protocol used by legionaries on the most primitive battlefield conditions in the galaxy. In combat, there would be no time to think about such things.
When it came time for Alexander and his flight he marched and stopped, marched and stopped with the rest of the cadets, thinking only about how frustrating it was to be helpless. Suddenly he stumbled and fell. The embarrassment was worse than the fall, and Alexander turned red at the laughter of those cadets who witnessed it. The embarrassment turned to anger when he saw the grinning face of Khandar. The Golkos had actually tripped him; with everything that was going on Khandar had tripped him like any adolescent prank!
Fjallheim was there in a flash, bellowing at Khandar that this was no time for such tom foolery. “I’ve about had my fill of you two! The President of Pan America is on board and you two are still going at it! You will report to my office at 2100 hours for disciplinary measures!”
“Yes sir,” they said together. Alexander seethed, but Khandar simply chuckled and sat back down. When he got his food and marched back to the table Alexander realized that he got his wish. Khandar and he would meet, albeit in Fjallheim’s office, but chances were that he would have enough time to do what he needed to do. He couldn’t have done any better. So was it fortune or did Khandar want to meet him as well? He’d have to wait to find out.
The day and evening dragged on. Alexander could think of nothing except how he was going to get the secret from Khandar. First, of course, he had to get Khandar alone. Of all people on board the Academy, Centurion Fjallheim was the most dangerous. He couldn’t afford to have the centurion suspect he was up to something or he’d find himself floating in space without a suit—like James, he was certain that Fjallheim was responsible for the deaths of the government agents and the Seer’koh Ambassador. The centurion wouldn’t balk at getting rid of one or two extra cadets.
It was the opportunity to be alone with Khandar that worried Alexander the most, but it turned out to be the simplest problem. Centurion Fjallheim solved it almost at once, though not for the reasons Alexander had planned. “You two and your rivalry are disrupting the smooth running machine that is my Cadet Corps. I won’t stand for it,” he told them dryly, leading them out of his office and marching them via back corridors—the Tube was off limits—to the armory. When they arrived he had them don simulation battle suits and gave them each a “Bang Stick.” Pressing a switch in the middle turned the ends red. He took Alexander’s and touched it to his side.
A sharp electric burn sliced through the armor and Alexander winced. Khandar laughed, but the centurion hit him in the stomach with the stick, almost knocking Khandar to the floor. The laughing stopped and Fjallheim handed Alexander his stick back. “The suits won’t stop it from hurting but they will prevent you from killing each other. Get it out of your system cadets—you have fifteen Terran minutes.” He marched to the door, but before leaving he turned a switch off on the comm panel. “I have no desire to listen to your screaming, and I don’t want anyone else to know how fragile my young cadets are. That’s a secret I’ll keep to myself. Keep that in mind. No one can hear you or see you. You have to endure fifteen minutes of absolute solitude with each other. Make good use of it so that I don’t have to deal with this in the future!”
As soon as the door closed, Khandar attacked Alexander.
CHAPTER 23: Revelations
Alexander blocked Khandar’s attack with his stick, cross-checking the taller Golkos in the chest. Khandar whipped his stick around, trying to get Alexander in the back with the glowing end of the stick. It grazed his shoulder, sending a buzzing burn down his shoulder and arm, but the Golkos boy left himself exposed in his effort to get in the first hit. Angry now, Alexander forgot about trying to talk to Khandar and whipped his stick from the left into Khandar’s helmet and then quickly back from the right under his exposed ribs.
Khandar winced, but instead of rolling away from the blow he clamped down on the bang stick with his left arm. His next move confounded Alexander. Khandar endured the burn so that he could grab Alexander’s bang stick with his left hand. That wasn’t going to work. All Alexander had to do was swing the butt end of his bang stick up to break Khandar’s hold, but before he did so Khandar shoved the head of his own bang stick at Alexander’s. The two heads touched, spitting crackling electricity, smacking and popping angrily.
“Ok Alexander hold on,” Khandar exclaimed, “truce!”
Alexander didn’t swing at the Golkos, but Khandar kept the two heads together. He explained, “They can’t eavesdrop through the interference. Now we can talk.”
“You’re willing to talk,” Alexander asked, unconvinced of the Golkos boy’s sincerity. He stayed on his guard.
“Yes,” he said evenly, and the aggression left his eyes. Shaking his head vigorously, he snapped, “It’s hard not to hate you, I’ve been doing it so long, but I am indebted to you and your family. If it weren’t for your father, my father would have died by an assassin’s blaster instead of in a duel.” His luminous eyes turned red for a moment; a sure sign of anger. “Don’t get me wrong—we Golkos hate to be indebted to anyone; it’s almost as bad as a blood oath. Still, to get me out of that debt I have to help you. What do you need?”
“Your father knew how to destroy the Methuselan Circuit,” Alexander said quickly. “He did it in Methuselan space. How did he do it?”
“Why, what is it about this circuit that makes you want to destroy it?”
“The Grand Admiral didn’t tell you,” Alexander asked, surprised that Khandar should be ignorant of it.
“My father would not talk about his time in Methuselan space—he gave me the secret for destroying this circuit in case it was used against the Golkos Empire. What does it do?”
Alexander explained the Methuselan vessel at the core of the Academy was really a mining vessel designed to siphon off the energy of civilized worlds. “The Methuselan Circuit is a psionic amplifier, sort of like a mechanical Scythian brain, only it makes the population cooperative. The President of Pan America wants to use it to promote his Gaian agenda. If he succeeds Terra will—” Alexander stopped. He’d never considered the point. Exactly what would Terra become? It was obvious that the Gaian plot to use the Methuselan Circuit was diabolical, but exactly what would the Gaian world be like? It took Khandar only a second to make that mental leap, and his smile grew positively feral—like a hyena standing over a maimed and helpless animal.
“The vaunted Terrans will lose all of their bravado and become sheep,” Khandar laughed. “Why would I want to prevent that? What’s the point? It’s an opportunity for Golkos to regain its rightful place in the Galaxy—as the pre-eminent empire of the Galactics!”
“Do you think the Chem would allow that?” Alexander retorted angrily, reminding Khandar of their age old Galactic rivals—and their betters. Glowering at the Golkos boy, Alexander thrust his face inches from the lean alien face. “Think about it Khandar, even if the President is successful, even if the Chem forget their bond with Terrans, this is one ship. The Methuselan Circuit can control Terra but how about the Terran colonies; how about the Fleet and the Legions? The President wants Terran society to obey him; he doesn’t want Terrans conquered. He could just as easily make the Methuselan Circuit whip Terrans into a bloodlust—then we’d finish what we started wh
en we defeated Golkos before!” He took a deep breath, seeing Khandar reconsidering his opinion. Alexander heaped on one more thing, and he didn’t care whether he was being vicious or not. “Last time we beat you Alexander Galaxus made your father the leader of Golkos; he let Golkos retain her honor and her standing. Do you think this President would do the same? If he’s willing to do such terrible things to his own citizens what do you think he’ll do to a rival culture?”
“You have a point,” Khandar admitted. “I know enough about Terran history to know what your people are capable of. You can be the most cruel people imaginable, but on occasion you can be selflessly noble—I’ve never fathomed it. My father taught me to respect that particular paradox.”
“So you’ll tell me how to destroy the Methuselan Circuit?”
“I can only assume that my father destroyed the other circuits for the reason you stated,” the Golkos boy frowned. He bit his lip. Then he explained, “The secret is in simplicity, as is usually the case. The Methuselan Circuit is designed to handle vast amounts of energy and convert them into psionic waves. To do so the energy must be channeled into the circuit in a steady stream. My father found that by pulsing the energy flow he could get the Circuit to break down. When it loses its cohesion the energy flowing into it takes care of the rest.” He stopped and said emphatically, “That’s what I know. We’re square.”
Alexander nodded, satisfied.
Khandar handed him back his Rosary. “Here, you’re going to need this.” Looking at his chronometer the Golkos boy smiled, “There’s still five minutes left!”
He swung his bang stick at Alexander.
By the time the door opened and Centurion Fjallheim put a stop to their fight, Alexander was tingling all over. To his satisfaction, Khandar took an equally brutal beating. The centurion dismissed them, saying sternly, “You are both going to be part of the same Legion. Whether you like each other or not is immaterial; as soldiers you need to put your talent and knowledge together. You need to become more than the sum of your parts. That’s what makes the Service so strong; that’s what keeps the peace. I hope you both learned something tonight!”
Alexander did learn something, but he was certain it was not what Centurion Fjallheim intended. The centurion warned Alexander and Khandar before they left, “Don’t take the Tube back—it’s prohibited. The President’s convoy is at berth in it. Apparently, the President is going to make an address to Terra tomorrow; word has it that he’ll make it from the bridge of the Iowa,” he shook his head as if he didn’t approve of it. Almost to himself, he murmured, “No official has ever done that. Only Alexander Galaxus did that. It’s almost, and I hate to say this—I shouldn’t say it as a centurion—but as a Citizen of Terra,” he scowled so deeply that Alexander thought he was going to curse. Instead, he spat angrily, “It’s a desecration; a desecration of every Terran that died to build this empire!” Alexander watched the centurion closely; was he having second thoughts? To his disappointment, Fjallheim took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them he was in full control of himself. “I am an officer of the Terran Empire and a slave to duty. You two will be constrained as such—some day. Enjoy this night gentleman; it may be your last on this station.”
“What do you mean sir,” they asked together.
“I mean that the President is not here for an idle tour of the station,” Fjallheim said evenly. “For whatever reason, he is thinking very seriously of moving the working seat of government here. The Praetorian Legion is already moving into quarters. Our legionary Storm Marines have already redeployed to Luna.”
“What will happen to the Academy?”
The centurion shrugged as if it didn’t concern him. “There is plenty of hangar space on Luna. I shouldn’t wonder that we’ll be redeployed there to finish out the year. It won’t be so different; plenty of room for firing ranges on the Moon!” He looked at them with hard eyes. “Prepare for change, Cadets, but if you have any mischievous plans—you know, pranks on other flights or such things—this is likely your last night to accomplish them. Tomorrow you’ll be on Luna and the Station will be irrevocably remote—dismissed!”
Alexander and Khandar saluted and left the room.
“What will you do,” Khandar asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Alexander said.
Khandar frowned and stopped. He looked at his chronometer then at Alexander. “I will plan a raid on Alpha Flight at 0300, that’s five hours from now. It will cause quite a stir.”
Alexander nodded, “Thanks Khandar and good luck!”
The Golkos nodded and left, “I’ve got to let everyone else know what we’re doing! Good luck Alexander!”
Alexander hurried back to his dormitory as fast as he could. When he arrived they were waiting for him. He explained the situation, summing up by saying, “We’ve got until 0300 to come up with a game plan. If they do move us out tomorrow we won’t have another chance.”
Lisa led him to one of the dormitory Holo-V’s. She brought up the schematics for the station—the students were encouraged to try and use their classroom knowledge to help learn things about the Methuselan ship, and a surprising number of discoveries were made by young, fresh and energetic minds. “This is a real time display of the power distribution grid for the station,” she centered on the area where the Methuselan Circuit was. The display didn’t show the circuit itself, but it was clear that a tremendous amount of energy flowed into the area. “This is the key,” she told them, pointing out a large pulsing blue reservoir of energy. “This is a huge capacitor. It’s similar in structure to blaster capacitors in that it stores energy until it’s needed.”
Treya chimed in, “With a blaster capacitor all the energy is released at once, but in this capacitor watch what it does,” she touched the exit flow, a line of steady blue brilliance. Numbers appeared above the flow. They were a representation of energy and the numbers stayed constant. There was no variation at all. “Even for superluminal engines there is a variation in the energy stream—there is none in this, none at all.”
“It’s a perfect energy flow,” Lisa agreed.
Alexander scowled. “Can we change it; can we alter the flow to cause it to pulse like Grand Admiral Khandar did?”
“This is beyond our technology,” Lisa said, and Alexander’s face fell.
“What regulates the capacitor, maybe we can shut the flow off to it and it will then affect the main flow?”
Lisa pointed out the area around the capacitor and shook her head. “No, they needed this to be fool proof so the capacitor is insulated from all other systems on the ship. It uses the excess energy fed to it through the main conduit to power itself, sort of like the accessory equipment on an engine. They don’t have their own power sources; they are parasitic to the engine itself.”
“There’s only two ways to alter the flow,” Treya said soberly. “We would have to either affect the main flow of power into the capacitor or affect the energy stream between the capacitor and the Methuselan Circuit. To affect the capacitor, we’d have to shut down the station for at least an hour. The capacitor is so large that it can keep feeding the Methuselan Circuit for that long even with no more power feeding it.”
Alexander touched the area on the other end of the capacitor, hoping it might reveal something else. The image grew to show the energy stream close up. It flowed through a zero-G tube into an opaque gray area. Lisa explained, “The Circuit is in the gray area; it’s classified. There’s no way around the protocol, not without the proper security clearance.”
“If we had a clearance would that help?”
“It would let us see the connections between the energy stream and the Methuselan Circuit but that’s all.”
“I’ve seen the connections,” Alexander said, confused. “They were ordinary power cable connections. There wasn’t anything I saw that could handle this kind of load. If power like this flowed through those cables they’d fry immediately.”
They all looked a
t each other with blank expressions.
“What are we missing?”
“Wait a minute; this is sort of like a big radio isn’t it,” James asked.
Lisa shook her head violently, “No James, this is a highly sensitive Circuit of tremendous power and complexity.”
The Methuselan Circuit Page 24