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  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

  A.I. Void Ship

  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

  The Lost Supernova

  The Lost Swarm

  Visit VaughnHeppner.com for more information

  The Lost Swarm

  (Lost Starship Series 11)

  by Vaughn Heppner

  Illustration © Tom Edwards

  TomEdwardsDesign.com

  Copyright © 2019 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.

  PART I

  ESCAPE

  -1-

  On a small south sea island in the Pacific Ocean was a pleasant community of prisoners, people the Commonwealth of Planets could not afford to let run free, mainly for political reasons, but also for military reasons in some cases. Chief among the captives was the former head of Star Watch Intelligence, Mary O’Hara.

  She was an older woman, known for her gray hair, matronly demeanor and having a sure hand at Intelligence operations. Her physical attributes, at least, had changed during her confinement in this tropical paradise. She had become fitter and leaner.

  After endless months of shuffleboard and bingo—and after her calls to the Lord High Admiral were no longer accepted—the woman people used to call the Iron Lady made a decision. She was going to escape, as she could no longer endure the lack of real mental stimulation.

  She could have taken up hobbies to pass the time, but those weren’t stimulating enough. She had played spy games against New Men geniuses and had won at times. How could mere hobbies compare to that? She had been the brains behind Star Watch Intelligence and had risen against many threats and outthought many hidden opponents. She had lost at times, true enough, but that had merely spurred her to greater effort.

  Mary also couldn’t believe that Captain Maddox hadn’t come to visit her once in all this time, and after all that she had done for the ungrateful lad. She was going to escape and give that man a piece of her mind. That was for damn sure.

  Not that Mary O’Hara liked to use strong language. That was her frustration showing in a woman who never—well, almost never—lost her temper.

  Mary had tanned, colored her hair back to its original youthful brunette and let it grow past her shoulders. That had taken some hair treatments and time, naturally. She had also exercised regularly in the island gym, walked on inland trails and kayaked along the shores.

  She had taken so-called Methuselah Treatments throughout the years, so even though most would consider her an older woman, she was as fit as an athletic forty-five-year-old. During her time on the island, she’d lost around fifteen pounds, and her smooth muscles had become much harder than before her confinement.

  As a Star Watch officer, she had long ago become proficient in unarmed combat and was an expert pistol marksman.

  Today, Mary strolled along an island path, with beautiful tropical trees swaying beside her as colorful birds quarreled on the branches above. She was heading back to her cottage, part of a small community near the ocean shore.

  The gardeners were Space Marines, and the head of security—who lived in the office hut—was really a Star Watch Intelligence officer. The various people didn’t advertise that, but Mary had known it at a glance each time.

  Today was the first Tuesday of the month. That meant a flitter had landed at the middle island compound. It was a surveillance station prohibited to the prisoners—not on pain of death, but on relocation to a more formal prison with outer electric security fences, thick walls and bars.

  Mary walked briskly, her face leaner than it had been in forty years. She wore hiking boots, loose-fitting cotton slacks, a colorful and slightly sweaty Hawaiian shirt and a wide-brimmed hat to block the tropical sun’s ultraviolet rays.

  She wore a look of concentration, but no one would have considered that dangerous. Mary always had that look while hiking.

  No one knew it, not even the prison psychologists, but Mary always had that look because she always plotted escape as she hiked. If she didn’t, she worked on methods to throw off the prison psychologists.

  She stepped off the dirt path onto a blacktop “road” that led past many cottages. A cooling ocean breeze struck as she heard waves lap against the rocky shore.

  A lean man in overalls clipping a fast-growing bush hardly glanced at her, but he did notice. Mary noticed him noticing. He was a Space Marine acting as a gardener, and Mary had no illusions about defeating him in unarmed combat.

  Just the same, she was heading for the equipment area, passing from his view. It was ten after eleven in the morning, and the wooden gate to the area and tool shed would be open. The bigger, tougher Space Marine who worked that area always took his lunch break early. His predictable routine was bad form for a jailor.

  Today, he was going to learn why.

  Three minutes and fifteen seconds later, Mary walked past the seventh cottage of the compound and turned left instead of right as usual. She headed for an open gate. Her heart rate increased because she knew hidden surveillance cameras watched her. She didn’t know if a dedicated analytical computer would signal an alarm, as she had never turned left here.

  Four seconds later, she passed through the gate and saw the beefy Space Marine tear into a huge Dagwood sandwich. He sat on a bench under an umbrella, leaning back against a wooden picnic table.

  The man noticed her as he took another massive bite. He straightened as he chewed, hurrying so he could no doubt tell her this was a restricted area. She would have to leave immediately.

  Mary smiled at him. “Don’t bother getting up. I just need to borrow a pair of clippers. They’re in there, aren’t they?” She pointed at the open door of the tool shed.

  He scowled, still chewing fast, gulping to get down some of the huge bite so he could speak. Reluctantly, he set down what was left of his sandwich.

  “Hey,” he finally said with food still in his mouth.

  Mary ignored him, walking past the table.

  He shot to his feet, gulped again, and said, “You can’t go in there.”

  “It’s no bother,” she said in her sweetest motherly voice.

  The beefy Space Marine hurried, one of his big hands reaching out, catching her upper arm, the fingers closing around her flesh.

  “I told you—” he said.

  Mary had been waiting for his move. The moment his fingers curled around her arm, she turned in toward him. She didn’t do it fast. She’d practiced the move in her cottage many times in order to get it right. She turned toward him just quickly enough to give her momentum, but not so fast that it alerted his trained combat senses.

  “I told you—”

  Mary’s up-thrusting knee smashed perfectly against his balls, crushing them against his body. She’d timed it just right, knowing
this was her best way to incapacitate a much stronger Space Marine.

  He groaned, released his hold and folded onto the ground. It was actually quite pathetic.

  Mary turned away, feeling slightly guilty for what she had done, continuing until she was inside the tool shed. She stopped in the center, a gas-oil odor wafting from the landscaping equipment.

  Oh, yes, of course. She located the hiding spot, moving to it. With her left foot, she pushed a carton closer, stepped onto it and reached up to the highest shelf, her questing hand landing on a stunner.

  Just in time.

  The pale Space Marine acting as a gardener shuffled into the tool shed. One hand cupped his bruised balls while his training and willpower forced his hurting body to respond.

  Mary had little reason to believe she could outfight him even now. Thus, she aimed the stunner at him and pulled the trigger.

  A low whine heralded a nearly invisible blot of power aimed at him. The stun setting was high enough that the blast knocked him down and out. He shouldn’t stir for at least another hour.

  Mary took little pleasure in her victory. She had nothing against the Space Marines. They were just doing their jobs. But she needed the jeep and the right ID to reach the surveillance compound in the middle of the island.

  Putting the stunner into one of the huge front pockets of her pants, Mary stepped over the unconscious Space Marine, heading for the office of the chief of security. Wasn’t he going to be surprised seeing her and then the stunner?

  The tiniest quirk of a smile touched Mary’s lips. The Lord High Admiral must have handpicked the officer, believing the operative would be able to keep her a prisoner here forever.

  Mr. Handpicked was going to be in for a rude surprise.

  -2-

  Mary never knew if Mr. Handpicked was surprised or not because she’d shot him in the neck while he’d been snoring in an easy chair in the living room. It hadn’t been a sporting shot, but then her escape attempt wasn’t a sporting event. No doubt, the surprise would come when he awoke.

  One thing surprised her, though. The hut contained an analytical computer dedicated to discerning her actions, and it had been beeping—she could tell by the blinking red light. The sound had been turned off, however—maybe so alerts wouldn’t interrupt his precious naps.

  Even though that worked to her advantage today, as a professional, that annoyed her. Did the Lord High Admiral think so poorly of her that he’d assigned a nincompoop as her head jailor?

  She’d silently debated the question during the drive through the jungle to the surveillance compound. Gaining entrance had been as simple as sliding the stolen ID into a slot and driving through the opening steel gate.

  If that hadn’t been enough, stealing aboard the landed flitter had been as easy as walking to the parked machine, stunning the two attendants servicing it, climbing aboard and taking off.

  Mary stared down at the dwindling island. Shallow green water surrounded the tropical paradise, while deeper blue waters surrounded that. Soon, white clouds floated below her, and the small landmass dwindled into a dot.

  This had to be the easiest escape ever.

  Too easy.

  Mary frowned. Did the ease of her escape indicate a problem?

  She flicked on the flitter’s sensors. They showed nothing unusual. She chewed a corner of her lower lip. A few moments’ thought caused her to stare out of the canopy, first in one direction and then the other. She leaned against the bubble-shaped plastic next, looking down to the right and left. Then, she looked up into the heavens.

  She didn’t spot anything suspicious, and that made her wary. Just what was going on anyway?

  She checked the com—nothing—no one giving her a warning to land while she could.

  Could her jailors really be so incompetent?

  She doubted it.

  Mary increased speed, heading for Australia about seventeen hundred kilometers away. There was a man she needed to meet at a Sydney park. She would know him when she saw him. If—

  Her sensor board beeped. She tapped the panel. A large craft descended from orbital space toward her. A second later, Mary was startled as the com board lit up. Someone was calling her.

  Mary thought three seconds before putting the flitter’s nose down and increasing speed. An unbidden thought came: she was going to escape, or she was going to die trying.

  She cocked her head at that. Was this really worth dying over?

  Yes, a voice inside her head said.

  Mary shook her head. That did not sound like her.

  It is, the voice said. Do it. Get it over with. Life’s been a dreadful bore as a prisoner.

  “No, it hasn’t,” Mary replied.

  Do you want to be a prisoner for the rest of your life?

  “If this doesn’t work, Captain Maddox will get me out.”

  Oh? And how often has Captain Maddox visited you?

  “He’s been busy,” Mary said.

  “Who are you talking to,” a gruff man asked.

  It took Mary a second to realize that wasn’t a question from the voice inside her head. No. The question came from the com panel. But she could not remember turning it on.

  “Is anyone with you?” the man asked.

  “Lord High Admiral?” Mary asked.

  “That’s right,” he said from the com speaker.

  Mary blinked several times. Finally, she tapped the com. A tiny screen flickered on until she looked into the craggy face of Admiral Cook, the old, thickly white-haired admiral, the father figure for just about everyone in the Commonwealth of Planets.

  “Are you in that ship up there?” Mary asked.

  “That’s right,” Admiral Cook said.

  “Did you know I was going to escape?”

  Cook didn’t answer.

  Mary grit her teeth, grabbed the controls turned the nose down steeper and increased speed.

  “What are you doing?” Cook asked.

  There was a pain in her skull as she said, “I’m sick of being a prisoner.”

  “Come now, Brigadier, you’re not suggesting that you’re planning suicide if we come to take you.”

  “What if I am?”

  “Then your condition is even worse than I expected.”

  Mary winced. That had been a low blow. By condition, he obviously meant her mind. That’s why she’d lost her position as head of Star Watch Intelligence. Enemies had stolen secrets from her brain and had also mind-controlled her for a while. It was possible she had latent controls in her head that would cause her to turn against Star Watch at just the wrong moment.

  In fact, she’d been hearing a voice in her head. The pressure in her skull increased. She frowned severely, rubbing her forehead. It was conceivable the voice was someone speaking directly into her mind, attempting to use her. The pressure grew worse, but she had become the Iron Lady through implacable willpower.

  “No,” Mary whispered. With a trembling hand, she reached out and decreased speed. Then she lifted the flitter’s nose so she didn’t dive at such a steep angle.

  “That’s better,” Cook said.

  For a moment, Mary was sure the skull pressure would cause her head to explode. Then, the pressure abruptly ceased, leaving her gasping.

  “Is everything all right?” Cook asked.

  Mary’s mouth was dry. The voice, the skull pressure and that she’d finally pushed herself into really escaping…

  “Have you been waiting for me to escape?” she asked.

  For several seconds there was nothing. Finally, Cook cleared his throat, saying, “I’ve been waiting three weeks already.”

  “So…I didn’t incapacitate the Space Marine?”

  “If you mean Sergeant Leskovich, medics hurried him to medical. He’s going to be okay, though.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You didn’t castrate him, even though you…well, never mind. It was a cunning if low blow.”

  “And your officer in the hut?” asked Mary
.

  “You caught him sleeping,” Cook said, his voice hardening. “By that, he’s earned himself a demotion. If nothing else, you helped me weed out an incompetent Intelligence officer.”

  “Is that supposed to mollify me for this fiasco?”

  “No, Brigadier. The profilers say you heartily disliked him. I’m merely giving you some sugar to make the nasty medicine go down.”

  “I’m not going back to the island.”

  The Lord High Admiral sighed. “I’ve tried to have you reinstated in Intelligence. There’s no getting around the stricture, though.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The Prime Minister has overruled me.”

  She stared at the bluff face in the tiny screen. “You’d really risk having me run Intelligence again?”

  Cook squirmed in his seat the tiniest bit, which was all the answer she needed.

  “You have something else in mind?” she asked.

  “Quite.”

  “What is it?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not saying over the ether.”

  She studied him, debating whether she should tell him about the skull pressure and the voice in her head that had suggested she end it all. It was a struggle, as she desperately wanted her freedom. But she couldn’t jeopardize Star Watch, not even if that meant she had to remain a prisoner for the rest of her life. Besides, it was clear now that someone, perhaps some enemy organization, was trying to use her.

  “Sir,” she said.

  Was there something in her voice that alerted him? In the tiny screen, he turned swiftly and made a motion. The action startled Mary, and she hesitated speaking

  At that instant, a beam shot from the descending spaceship. It struck her flitter, filling the bubble canopy with a strange orange glow. Mary O’Hara’s eyelids fluttered and then she slumped, unconscious, as her flitter began to plummet toward the waiting ocean.

  -3-

  Mary awoke groggily on a med-cot. She saw tubes in her arms and felt a warm band around her head. Disorientation filled her. What had happened to her?