The Lost Star Gate (Lost Starship Series Book 9) Page 3

  “Very little, I’m afraid. Strand and his remaining mind slaves are a complication in the greater problem. However, they are a complication that we can possibly use to our advantage.”

  “I’m still not following you.”

  “I’m not surprised. There are few who can.”

  “Professor, a smart person can make himself understood. It is your failure that I do not understand you, not mine.”

  “That is patently false,” he said. “Surely, you are aware that people separated by two standard deviations in IQ seldom know what each other are saying. There is an even greater gap between you and me.”

  O’Hara glanced at the corpses a third time. Sometimes, she wondered if humanity would have been better off without the last two Methuselah Men.

  “I need to get out of here,” she whispered.

  “Yes, I understand. This way, if you please.”

  O’Hara followed him down a short corridor into a small but comfortable chamber. This one had cushioned chairs facing a stellar chart of Human Space and the surrounding Beyond. The chart did not indicate the location of the New Men’s Throne World.

  The brigadier plopped into one of the chairs. Ludendorff sat in the other.

  “Is Dana around here somewhere?” O’Hara asked.

  “Let us stick to the issue, shall we?”

  “Fine,” O’Hara said. She felt exhausted. Was Ludendorff right?

  “Brigadier—”

  “Just a minute,” O’Hara said. “I’ve risked my life coming here. I suppose those two we saw back there intended to enslave me in a manner similar to the way that they had been enslaved.”

  “That would be my guess, yes.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Not yet,” Ludendorff said. “Their stealth ship is hidden nearby. I’m wondering if they’re going to make a stab at the Moltke.”

  O’Hara’s eyes bulged outward. “You lied earlier. You said there were no New Men in the system.”

  Ludendorff made an offhanded gesture.

  “You’re using the Moltke as another lure,” O’Hara said in sudden understanding.

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  “I have to warn the commodore.”

  Ludendorff shook his head. “The Human Race might well perish if you do that.”

  The physical and mental exhaustion intensified. O’Hara lowered her head, placing her face in her hands. She groaned aloud, shaking her head. Was this part of his plan? Was Ludendorff trying to demoralize her? No. She was made of sterner stuff. She had to play this game to the best of her ability. Ludendorff had a goal. That’s why he was doing it this way.

  A feud, she realized. She was caught in the ancient feud between Strand and Ludendorff.

  “Does the Emperor still hold Strand captive?” she asked through her fingers.

  “Ah,” Ludendorff said. “You’re beginning to understand.”

  She looked up, squinting at the professor. “This is Strand trying to regain his freedom?”

  “A freedom we now need,” Ludendorff said softly.

  She stared a moment longer before saying, “What in the Hell are you talking about?”

  The professor crossed his legs as he leaned back against the cushions. “Don’t you see it yet?”

  “Why not explain it to me and save time?”

  “Humanity cannot defeat the Swarm Imperium in a head-to-head war.”

  “We’ve known that for a long time,” she said.

  “Granted. How, then, does humanity survive the Imperium?”

  “Is that a riddle?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Do you have the answer?”

  “That I do.”

  “I’m not going to like your answer, am I?” O’Hara asked.

  “No.”

  She nodded. “Go ahead. Tell me. I’m ready to hear it.”

  He did tell her, and he was right. She hated the idea. But as he continued to explain, she began to see that Ludendorff might be right this time. Then, he added a kicker, a condition she must meet for his continued aid.

  “Captain Maddox isn’t going to like your condition,” she said.

  Ludendorff’s eyes seemed to gleam, although he hooded that after a moment. He managed what seemed like an offhand shrug.

  That didn’t fool O’Hara. Ludendorff had a grudge against Maddox because of what had happened in the Alpha Centauri System near the end of the original Swarm invasion, and this seemed like the professor’s way of getting back at her favorite agent.

  Would Ludendorff try to kill Maddox?

  “Well?” the Methuselah Man asked. “Do you agree to my terms or not?”

  “If more New Men are hidden in this system, we may not live long enough to implement your plan.”

  “We’ll live, trust me.”

  That was the one thing O’Hara had no intention of doing. Not Ludendorff—or Strand, for that matter. They were two of the slyest, most untrustworthy beings she knew. Yet, she couldn’t lie to the Methuselah Man, as he would likely detect such a thing. Therefore, she had to mean what she said.

  “Yes,” O’Hara told him. “I agree.”

  “Without equivocation?” he asked, watching her closely.

  The brigadier swallowed a lump in her throat, nodding a moment later, hoping that Captain Maddox could forgive her someday.

  “Excellent,” Ludendorff said, as he rubbed his hands together. “I can hardly wait to begin.”

  -5-

  FIFTEEN DAYS LATER: 103 LIGHT-YEARS AWAY

  Captain Maddox strode down a dusty city street on Usan III, the only inhabitable planet of the Usan System.

  Starship Victory was parked three planets away, having pretended some time ago to use a Laumer Point to leave the star system.

  There were two giant haulers in orbit around Usan III, along with several tramp freighters, a decrepit torchship, two Patrol scouts and one defensive satellite.

  Not so many years ago, Usan III had been an independent frontier world near the Beyond. The independence had been something of a sham, however. Commonwealth corporations had run Usan III, forcing the poor souls stranded here to work as slave labor in the crystalline mines or hunting the wastelands for varths. Varths were small predatory creatures the size of rats, with stings like scorpions and uncommon speed. The stinger was the thing for humans, as the substance in the hollow of the stinger was incredibly complex, immune to synthetic duplication.

  Many labs had tried to duplicate the varth venom, but all had failed, no matter how much money had been sunk into the research.

  Varth venom was deadly. A mere touch could kill. Diluted and mixed into a secret formula, it helped to prolong life—provided an elixir of youth for a season. During that season, the varth elixir in a human system built up to a dangerous level. When the tipping point arrived, a user keeled over and died. But it was sudden and relatively painless, even if the signature grimace on each corpse said otherwise. Until such moment, the individual had a second youth, with increased strength, speed and stamina.

  As Maddox walked along the dusty street, he removed his wide-brimmed hunter’s hat, taking a handkerchief from an inner pocket and wiping sweat from his forehead. The rust-colored sky, the glaringly bright star and the slightly metallic-smelling dust particles floating along the street added to Usan III’s alien bleakness.

  This was a dry world with ancient low hills mostly devoid of vegetation and with too much red rock, exposed iron ore and shale. Capricorn was the only real city thanks to the spaceport outside its city limits.

  There were tin-roofed, stone-and-clay shacks everywhere, blisteringly hot during the day and chilly at night. There were a few taller brick buildings near the center of town. This was where Maddox presently walked. Each of the towers belonged to a different corporation. Air conditioners hummed during the day, while heaters provided comfort at night. Lastly, along the Strip, were several garish casinos. Each of those sported a tall if flimsy statute. Two of the statutes had movable arms, bec
koning people to come and enjoy the cool air, the food and whores, and the many card games allowing the lucky the opportunity to win enough money to buy a berth off-planet.

  The casinos attracted professional gamblers, bored corporation shills, rock workers, port loaders, bio-fabricators and varth hunters, while on paydays the miners arrived via company airbuses.

  Usan III now officially belonged to the Commonwealth of Planets, but like many frontier worlds, law and order was spotty at best. Naturally, company guards protected corporation interests. And for the most part, the corporations had a system in place to keep antagonisms between them to a minimum.

  Spotty law and order often meant the law of the jungle. Usan III had advanced a little beyond that. Custom here had brought back the duel to settle most grudges and feuds, and sometimes—an unintended benefit—duels helped to relieve boredom. Those duels could be by gun, sword, knife or even viper stick.

  Due to his cover as a professional gambler-slash-occasional varth hunter, Maddox had a rapier belted to his right hip and a short-barreled gun on his left. He wore a dark hat, dark garments, a dark jacket and dusty black boots.

  The captain was a tall, lean individual with dangerous blue eyes and an unnatural quickness due to his New Man heritage. He was a half-breed, although he despised the term. When the time came, he would kill his rapist father, a full New Man who had taken advantage of his mother in a breeding facility.

  He’d landed on Usan III thirteen days ago, having come down from orbit in a now-departed tramp hauler. After a week in the casinos and a week of poking here and there, asking questions, he’d rented a sealed dune buggy and traveled into the wastelands, looking for a particular varth hunter. He’d found him a day ago, dead on the sands, shot through the face.

  When Maddox had turned him over, two young varths had wriggled out of the corpse. One of the horrible creatures had leaped at him, using all six legs to do so, the stinger flashing at his face. Maddox had barely dodged the tiny monster in time, at the same instant he’d used a boot heel on the second, slower varth, crushing it without harming the stinger.

  He’d drawn his rapier afterward, although he’d meant to draw his gun. The still-living varth had circled him, scuttling across the sand with unnatural speed. It had faked a leap—yes, it was a nasty creature—and then it had leapt and flashed its stinger at him again.

  Maddox hadn’t dodged that time. Instead, he’d speared the little creature with the rapier, his follow-through stabbing it against the ground, and then he killed it with a boot heel.

  After Maddox had regained his breath, he’d carefully detached each stinger and deposited both in a glass tube where they’d rattled like pieces of iron.

  Only then had he returned to the corpse, studying it for a time. He’d recognized the clone of Strand even though the face had been mutilated.

  Had that been the last Strand clone, one that had seemingly escaped the original Strand’s conditioning?

  Maddox suspected so. Soon thereafter, he’d recorded the location, climbed into the dune buggy and headed back for Capricorn, traveling over three hundred kilometers.

  As the captain trudged toward The Strip—he’d returned the buggy to the rental agency—he eyed the Nerva Corporation Tower to his right. It was the tallest building on the planet, a full six stories and with a private landing pad on top.

  He knew that most of the Nerva Corporation personnel lived in the tower or in orbit aboard a hauler. The original Strand had once worked for Nerva Incorporated. What did it mean that a Strand clone had come here to be shot—many times—in the face out in the wastelands?

  Maddox put his hunter’s hat back on. He had reason to believe that the last androids—the same kind as he’d faced last mission—had infiltrated the Nerva Corporation. That would mean that he had not dealt with the last of the androids back on the Shiloh, the battleship he’d destroyed before gaining two radioactive Builder devices.

  He hadn’t figured out what those devices were and likely never would. Each was stored in a special compartment deep underground in the Alps on Earth.

  Why had the Strand clone traveled to Usan III? Why would some of the last androids be here—if he was correct in that assumption?

  The planet was far from other human-inhabited star systems. The varths, and the unique crystals deep underground—

  Maddox squinted as he headed for the Star Light Casino, the largest, secretly owned through many shell companies by the Nerva Corporation.

  After several months of investigation in other star systems, Maddox had come to believe that Usan III held a secret, one that hinted of Builder or possibly ancient Swarm origins.

  Maddox didn’t know—yet. But he planned to find out, and hopefully soon.

  The key was discovering who had killed the Strand clone out in the wastelands. Once he found out, he believed that he would be that much closer to discovering the hidden androids, and they would likely lead him to the planetary secret. Why else would the androids be on Usan III?

  Maddox increased his stride. It was time to start making the right people nervous so he could analyze their mistakes.

  -6-

  In the Star Light Casino, after winning several big hands at a poker table, Maddox reached into his jacket and took out the glass tube with the metallic-sounding varth stingers.

  The other gamblers at the table eyed the tube hungrily.

  It was moderately noisy in here, with several hookers leaning against various big spenders. There were a half dozen poker tables, but only this one was occupied at the moment.

  There were other tables, though, with roulette, blackjack, spinner and more. Most of the noise came from there. It was cool inside the main room, with several large casino security personnel stationed at strategic locations and keeping track of things.

  Maddox rattled the tube, grinning at the others. “This is my good luck charm,” he declared. “As long as I have it, I can’t lose.”

  He tucked the tube inside a hidden jacket pocket and leaned back against his chair.

  “Aren’t you going to cash those in?” asked a beefy miner sporting red hair and a red silk handkerchief tied around his bull neck.

  “Don’t need to cash ‘em in when I can take your money so easily,” Maddox replied.

  A few annoyed players grunted.

  A painted woman approached the captain. She was beautiful and voluptuous, but there seemed to be a strength in her that the other hookers lacked. Her clothing wasn’t quite as revealing, either. She wore a short dress that showed off her shoulders and legs to good effect, but her breasts remained tantalizingly hidden.

  Her name was Meta, and she was Maddox’s wife. She’d arrived five days ago, having come down from the decrepit torchship. Meta had been born on a 2-G world, and had great natural strength. Like the captain, she was a modified human and worked for Star Watch Intelligence.

  From behind his chair, Meta rubbed the captain’s shoulders. “Let me see that again, love,” she stage-whispered in his ear.

  Maddox looked up at her, shrugged as if he didn’t care, and took out the glass tube, rattling the stingers.

  Meta oohed with delight and pressed herself against his nearest shoulder.

  “Hey, little lady,” a large gambler said, a giant of a guy with ruddy features and expensive blue clothes. “Why don’t you come over here to a real man?”

  Meta ignored him.

  The giant—he was over seven feet tall—took a large roll of bills from a pocket. He waved them at her. “Is this what you love, darling?” he asked Meta.

  She wrapped her arms around Maddox’s neck, pressing one of her cheeks against his.

  The giant—his name was Ajax Clanton—scowled angrily. He’d been drinking for quite some time, and he’d lost a large amount of money to Maddox several hands ago. It was possible he was still smarting from the loss and was on tilt.

  “Hey, bitch,” Ajax said in an ugly voice, “I asked you a question.” And he threw the wad of cash at her head.<
br />
  Maddox reached up in a seeming lazy move—it actually happened startlingly fast—and caught the wadded bundle before it could hit his wife’s forehead.

  Without a word, the captain pocketed the wad.

  Ajax grew red-faced. “Give it back,” he told Maddox.

  “You threw it away,” Maddox said matter-of-factly.

  Ajax sat dumbfounded, his mouth open, showing his shock. Then he leaned across the table as he clicked his teeth together. “Do you want to die, friend?”

  Maddox ignored the threat as he picked up his latest hand.

  “Did you hear me?” Ajax growled.

  Meta withdrew her arms from Maddox’s neck.

  “Come here, bitch,” Ajax demanded. “I paid for you fair and square. Now, you’re mine. I’m going teach you some lessons you’ll never forget. I’m going to—”

  Ajax might have continued the tirade. The man seemed to enjoy the sound of his threats. But Maddox picked up his shot glass. It had a film of whiskey at the bottom. He’d had several drinks, but his faster than ordinary metabolism had quickly burned up the alcohol. In any case, Maddox dashed the last contents of his whiskey at Ajax Clanton, the droplets hitting the giant on the face in mid-sentence.

  That was too much for the man. He abruptly stopped talking and bellowed as he grasped the nearest edge of the table with both hands. Standing to his imposing height, the giant heaved, lifting the table and hurling it at Maddox.

  The captain moved fast, pulling Meta and himself out of the way.

  The chips, glasses and cards all flew, furniture crashing against the floor and some of the smaller things reaching other tables.

  Ajax stood like an angry primate, panting, aiming at the captain with a heavy gun that he’d quick-drawn from a hidden holster. “You freak!” Ajax shouted, with spittle flying from his mouth. “No one steals from me.” He jerked the trigger so the gun roared like a cannon.

  Maddox was already twisting, unnaturally fast. It barely proved to be enough as the heavy caliber bullet plowed through the edge of his jacket, tearing a hole through it. The bullet kept going, smashing a chair and its roulette player in the back, causing the unlucky soul to pitch forward against the table, bumping the ball out of the spinning wheel.