The Lost Tech Page 6

  No one answered the captain as dizziness threatened him. He shook his head, took a step toward the fallen big man and then passed out as he began falling to the tunnel floor.

  -10-

  Maddox’s head throbbed, as…as…he was dimly aware that four men carried him through a lit place. He was aware of this even as he kept his eyes shut. One man clutched each limb, carting him. The captain grew aware that he was no longer wearing a mask. He could breathe the air directly. It was warmer here, too.

  Am I in a higher or lower level than before? He hoped it was higher.

  He felt disoriented and groggy. Whatever tranquilizer they’d used on him must be wearing off. That brought up a point. His metabolism was much faster than a regular man’s and would thus burn off the trank effects sooner. Would they know that? Should he pretend to be out or—?

  “No, you fools,” a woman said. “Toss him with the New Men.”

  “But, your ladyship,” one of the carriers said. “He isn’t a New Man. Won’t they kill him?”

  “With the Erill energy he’s absorbed, he’s as dangerous as a New Man,” the woman said. “That’s what the fight with Tobias has shown us.”

  This was too much for the captain. He opened his eyes and turned his head in the direction of the woman’s voice. His eyesight was blurry, however. He saw a shape—then she must have walked around a corner and out of sight, as he no longer saw her vague humanoid shape.

  “Look, he’s awake,” the left leg-carrier said.

  “He should be woozy for another minute,” the right arm-holder said. “Let’s get him to the holding pen fast.”

  Maddox didn’t bother asking questions, as he wasn’t sure he could yet. He squeezed his eyelids closed instead, concentrating on sight. He opened his eyes, willing the blurriness to depart. His will wasn’t working hard enough, because everything was still a blur.

  Plan B, he decided. Maddox began to struggle, straining his arms and legs and twisting his torso, even if not very vigorously. He had to slow them down.

  “Just a little farther,” the right arm-holder said.

  Maddox willed himself to struggle harder.

  “That won’t help you any,” the right arm-holder said.

  Maddox’s lips thinned, and he groaned with effort.

  “He’s a stubborn bastard,” the left leg-carrier said.

  “Correct on both counts,” the right arm-holder said.

  Maddox’s struggles increased.

  “Just around this corner,” the arm-holder panted, his grip increasing each second.

  “No, you don’t,” Maddox whispered.

  The carriers halted suddenly. There was a shift in the way the man held his right arm. Someone might have pressed a switch because a nearby hatch hissed open.

  “One…two…three…” the right arm-holder counted in cadence. The four of them swung the captain back and forth each time. At the end of “three,” they released.

  Maddox twisted airborne, looking over at them. They were four humanoid blurs. Then, he plunged down, struck a—a chute, sliding a short way until he passed something and tumbled out onto a hard floor with a grunt.

  “Ural,” a man shouted. “Look. Here’s another one.”

  “What?” a different person said. “They tossed a subman in with us. That’s an insult.”

  “No,” a voice said, one that Maddox recognized. “He’s Captain Maddox of Star Watch.”

  “That’s Maddox?” another asked incredulously.

  “Indeed,” a New Man said. Maddox recognized the voice. It was Golden Ural, and oddly enough, Maddox’s uncle by birth.

  With his head throbbing, the captain sat up, looking around. The jar against the floor must have shaken something loose. His eyesight was returning. He saw four tall golden-skinned New Men standing around him. They each wore a dirty, silver-colored one-piece uniform, indicating at least a week or two of confinement. The tallest was Golden Ural, more handsome and dominating than the rest. Maddox happened to know that Ural was the cousin to the Emperor of the Throne World. Ural had also led the initial invasion of the Commonwealth when the New Men had invaded “C” Quadrant. That had been years ago. Back then, Admiral Fletcher of Fifth Fleet had faced them.

  “Ural?” Maddox asked with a dry mouth. “What are you doing here?”

  The others stared at Ural.

  Golden Ural cleared his throat. “If you three would allow me, I’d like to speak privately with the captain.”

  The other three New Men did not nod. They simply turned away; moving to a farther corner of the holding cell—if that was what this was.

  “Let me give you a hand,” Ural said, reaching down.

  Maddox grabbed the hand. Ural effortlessly hoisted him to his feet. Maddox swayed. Ural steadied him with a hand on the captain’s left elbow.

  “This way,” Ural said.

  The two moved through a narrow arch into a different portion of the cell. There was a big table with benches on each side. A pitcher and several metal cups were on the table. As they sat, Ural poured the captain liquid.

  Maddox took the cup, paused and looked up at Ural.

  “It’s only water,” Ural said.

  Maddox drank greedily, only then realizing how thirsty he’d been.

  “The trank is a diuretic,” Ural said.

  Maddox looked up. “They tranquilized you four as well?”

  “Yes,” Ural said, “five days ago. We still gave them a struggle because they miscalculated the dosages.” He shrugged. “It didn’t matter in the end.”

  “Tortuga was a trap?”

  Ural looked away and heaved a sigh. “We knew all this was designed to trap you. What we—what I failed to take into account was that part of the plan was meant to make me react so they could trap us, too.”

  Maddox took the pitcher and poured himself more water, draining that as well. “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re hunting for Vint Diem, are you not?”

  “How do you know that?” Maddox asked. “Oh. I see. How clever, Uncle. This is your plan, isn’t it? Those were your people. Now that we’re prisoners together, I’m supposed to spill my guts to you. I wouldn’t expect such a plan from New Men, and that’s the beauty of it.”

  Ural smiled, showing perfectly straight and white teeth. “I decided to take a hand in the matter. You’re correct about that. Becoming a prisoner myself and pumping you for data…not exactly.” Ural shook his head. “Instead, I was going to use you as bait in order to capture her while she attempted to capture you. Clearly, I did not succeed in that.”

  “Her,” Maddox said. “The man I fought spoke of her as well.”

  “Do you know about whom I speak?” Ural asked.

  “Just that it’s a woman.”

  Ural nodded. “At least I know a little more than you or Star Watch, small comfort at his juncture. Do you recall that I said the Throne World possesses the greatest intelligence service in existence?”

  “I do. Yes.”

  “It turns out we’re only second best. Hers is better. She set a trap for you, but also to trap me as well.”

  “Her, she,” Maddox said, annoyed, “I’m getting tired of this. Who is she?”

  “Oh. I thought that was obvious. We’re talking about Methuselah Woman Lisa Meyers.”

  Maddox straightened as a tinge of fear spiked. He remembered the woman who’d spoken earlier. “Meyers is here?”

  “Not in this holding cell obviously,” Ural said. “But I do believe she is on or in Tortuga.”

  Maddox blinked several times, astounded and appalled at the idea. Methuselah Woman Lisa Meyers—the Liss Prime Saa had tried to bargain for its life by offering to give them data on her latest evil endeavor against the Commonwealth. Ludendorff and he and killed the Liss cyber instead, as that had been their original goal.

  “Do you think Meyers came to Tortuga to trap me personally?” Maddox asked.

  “Without question,” Ural said. “But I imagine she would think of it
as luring you to Tortuga.”

  “How do you know all this?” Maddox asked.

  “Allow me to keep a few secrets, eh.”

  Maddox studied his uncle, admiring the man’s seeming indifference to his fate. “Do you know what she plans for us?”

  Ural shook his head.

  “I warrant it’s nothing good,” Maddox muttered.

  “Indeed not.”

  Once again, Maddox studied his uncle. “The man I fought said she would experiment on me.”

  “Ah. You must have spoken to a Merovingian then. They love to boast. The more obscene or perverse the taunt, the better they like it.”

  “Who are the Merovingians?”

  “I believe you met several when you tried to save your grandmother in Antarctica. Didn’t they possess transfer technology?”

  Maddox stared at his uncle. “You’re well informed,” he finally said.

  Ural made an offhand gesture. “I am the head of the Throne World’s Intelligence Service after all.”

  “Yes. I realize,” Maddox said. “That’s why I don’t understand why you would come in person to Tortuga—and I hope you’re not going to say to save me.”

  “I’ve already told you why I’m here. I desired to capture the Methuselah Woman.”

  “And put her in captivity with Methuselah Man Strand?”

  “No. In her case…well, it’s moot now,” Ural said. “Besides, I’m sure her agents are monitoring our conversation. There’s no sense saying too much.”

  “You’re right.” Maddox brooded. “Perhaps if you’d told me beforehand what you’d planned…”

  “No, Captain,” Ural said. “I don’t think you would have trusted me to that degree. Capturing Meyers seemed too important a prize. I wonder if she knew what I’d—of course, she would know. Meyers is many times more dangerous than Ludendorff or Strand ever was.”

  “I suppose you’re right, about me not trusting you.” Maddox looked around. “What do we do now?”

  “What else?” Ural asked. “There is no escape from here. If there were, my men and I would have already achieved it.”

  -11-

  Five hundred thousand kilometers from Tortuga, Starship Victory slowly orbited the greater debris mass. Maddox’s scheduled call had come and gone in silence. Now…

  On the bridge, Lieutenant Valerie Noonan sat in the captain’s chair, her chin resting on her right-hand fist and her beautiful features scrunched with thought. She had been a severe rules stickler upon joining the crew many years ago. She still insisted on doing things the right way and usually the official way. But serving under Maddox had taught her the utility of unorthodoxy, as well as the risks.

  She looked up at the main screen, noting a giant hauler several hundred kilometers from the ship.

  “Galyan,” she said.

  A small Adok holoimage appeared beside the command chair. The Adok Galyan had been the last of his race to command the defense fleet before the Swarm slaughtered everyone and destroyed the Adok homeworld. Over six thousand years ago, the ship had “deified” him, imprinting his engrams into the sophisticated AI.

  The holoimage Galyan was short with ropy arms and stringy fingers and could control almost all the starship’s functions.

  “You called, Valerie?” Galyan asked.

  “Have the Brethren resumed jamming?” she asked.

  Galyan’s eyelids fluttered for just a moment. “Yes, Valerie.”

  “Did you detect anything from the captain or the sergeant?”

  “No, Valerie. I would have informed you if I did. Are you worried about them?”

  “Take a look outside,” she said. “I see star cruisers, non-Star Watch battleships, haulers, pirate vessels and others all orbiting the most notorious pirate base in the galaxy. And now the captain hasn’t made his scheduled call. Yes, I’m worried.”

  “So am I,” Galyan admitted.

  Valerie’s chin lifted off her fist as she slid forward on the seat. “You are?”

  “Quite worried,” Galyan said. “We should do something.”

  “Before he left, the captain said he’d be okay even if he didn’t call in right away.”

  “I know what he said. But you and I both know that Captain Maddox is often overconfident concerning his abilities. He may have overreached, and we’re supposed to remain out here, powerless to help him?”

  Valerie nodded. “Let’s suppose he’s in trouble. What could we do? You’re not suggesting we begin burning through Tortuga’s debris mass, are you?”

  “That would take weeks. No, I am not suggesting that.”

  “Weeks, huh? You’ve run the numbers?”

  “Of course,” Galyan said.

  “Okay, okay, we don’t burn through the debris mass. What then?”

  “The simplest expedient would be to start destroying their customer base,” Galyan said. “In other words, we burn a few ships until the rest scatter. Then, you use the Long-Range Builder Communicator and ask the Lord High Admiral for reinforcements to finish the job.”

  Valerie smiled. “That would work.”

  “I think so too, unless…”

  “Go ahead. Tell me.”

  “Whoever captured the captain shows him on the screen and tells us they’ll start cutting off his fingers unless we promise to quit firing on their customers.”

  “Galyan,” Valerie said, disgusted. “What an awful and vicious thing to think.”

  “I am sorry, Valerie. They are space pirates, however. Is that not the sort of thing pirates—renegades—would do?”

  “I suppose. What else could we do?”

  “Attempt to pilot Victory through the debris field until we reach near-orbital space,” Galyan said. “If successful—”

  “What about the orbital defense satellites?”

  “We have the firepower to destroy them.”

  Valerie stood, stretching her back. “Maybe I should call the Brethren Council and ask them what’s up.”

  “That has the advantage of directness,” Galyan said, “but they already warned the captain to stay away. They said his coming through the debris field and landing on the dwarf planet would be on his head, not theirs.”

  “I know, I know.” Valerie chewed on her lower lip, finally turning to Galyan. “Give me your best suggestion.”

  “My best?” asked Galyan. “We wait, as the captain may have a good and entirely logical reason for not making the scheduled call.”

  Valerie exhaled. “I’m not going to wait very long.”

  “I would not think so,” Galyan said.

  She frowned, sat back in the captain’s chair and began to work on a fingernail with her teeth. “When’s the next scheduled call?”

  “Seven hours and ten minutes,” Galyan said.

  “I’m not waiting any longer than that. I may not even wait that long. Galyan!” she said.

  “Yes, Valerie.”

  “Start figuring out a way to project yourself as far as possible into the debris field and see if you can short-circuit the main Tortuga jammer.”

  “I doubt I can. But I will certainly give it the old college try.”

  “Huh?” Valerie asked.

  “I will begin immediately,” Galyan said, disappearing from view.

  Valerie blinked several times, hoping Maddox was all right, and hoping that Meta would not come storming onto the bridge, demanding she do something to rescue the captain.

  “What’s happening down there?” Valerie whispered. “Why do I have a knot in my gut about this?” She knew why, and she knew that she could be wrong about this. Thus, she was going to wait a few more hours at least before making her move.

  -12-

  “Hey, wake up. You’ve slept long enough, old man. Are you sick? I’m sure you’re weak. You look old and weak, withered up and useless. I don’t know why I haven’t kicked in your ribs and been done with you already.”

  Sergeant Riker groaned as a massive insistent hand kept shoving his left shoulder. His head pounded,
and his mouth was dry. He had no idea where he was, what had happened to him or who…who…?

  “Old man,” the thick-voice person said. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Shut up, why don’t you?” Riker growled.

  There was a tense silence.

  A modicum of worry invaded the sergeant’s consciousness. He opened his eyes and wished he hadn’t.

  “Why are you scowling at me?” The speaker was a huge, massive brutish man with ugly features, a thick neck and heavily muscled sloping shoulders. He wore brown leather garments and a belt with the oddest trinkets attached to them. Some of the trinkets looked like shrunken heads a cannibal chief might own. Others were obvious totems or good luck charms. Up behind the mop of hair were bright harsh lights. The glaring lights made it difficult to make out the man’s eyes.

  “Where am I?” Riker asked.

  “The hostel,” the brute said. “Are you sick or just stupid?”

  Riker noticed he was lying on a wooden board with a folded jacket for a pillow. He remembered finally that he and the captain were on a secret mission inside Tortuga. He’d been waiting for the captain in a dim tunnel, fingering his lucky gold coin when—Riker winced as he reached back and fingered a knot on the back of his head. The wincing made him nauseated. He kept himself from vomiting and felt a pocket, the one where he kept his lucky coin. It was gone! Had he dropped it? Damn, he’d lost his lucky coin…unless this huge brute had seen and swiped it. How can I get it back?

  “You’re turning pale again,” the brute said. “You’re weak, very weak. I barely tapped you on the back of the head and down you flopped. It was pathetic.”

  “What?” Riker asked.

  “I sneaked up on you and used a club, knocking you out.”

  “Did you take my coin?”

  “What coin?”

  “I was holding a coin when you bashed my head from behind. That’s probably why I didn’t hear you sneaking up on me.”

  “No. I’m good at sneaking. You were holding a coin?”

  “Yes, a gold one. You must have seen it roll onto the floor.”

  “I didn’t see it. You were flopping around, and I thought I might have killed you. I checked. You were still breathing, so I slung you over my shoulder and carried you away.”