The Lost Secret

by Vaughn Heppner

  -20-

  Starship Victory began the detour, heading in the opposite direction it had been traveling. Because Valerie was part of the flotilla but an otherwise independent commander, Maddox had Meta inform her of the change in heading.

  Valerie’s ship was still inside Hangar Bay Four. The Darter-class scout ship had recently left experimental status to become the newest type of Star Watch vessel.

  The Tarrypin, like others of its kind, had fold capabilities like a fold fighter and star-drive jump like a larger vessel. What it did not have was a Laumer Drive. Thus, the Tarrypin could not enter a wormhole unless another vessel opened the way for it.

  The experimental darters had been seven times larger than a fold-fighter. The Tarrypin and the others like it were twice as big as that, the Patrol Board having decided that a small crew in deep space needed more room than the experimental model had provided.

  Like the experimental model, this one had some of the newest technologies. The new techs allowed for the small size and the star-drive jump capability. The Tarrypin lacked hull armor, although it did have a special polymer skin that allowed for its stealth field. The darter did not have a shield generator, meaning it could not deploy an electromagnetic shield. This was a scout vessel pure and simple, relying on its stealth capabilities, fold and star-drive jump for survival. If an enemy vessel fired upon it, and the beam or solid projectile struck the ship, the darter would crumple or explode, likely killing everyone aboard. The trick, therefore, was not being there when the beam or missile arrived. Preferably, it would prove wiser not to let anyone see it to target the Tarrypin in the first place.

  The darter looked like a giant space bomber, including a delta wing for atmospheric flight. Most of the ship’s space held the fold, star-drive jump and stealth field engines, with a tiny fusion engine to supply power. The darter’s armaments included a few 20-millimeter autocannons, three antimissiles and one mini-rocket with a nuclear warhead. That meant it was almost defenseless against anything else that carried weaponry.

  There were three crew quarters, a tiny gym—this one lacking a treadmill—a small science station, the control cabin, the engine compartments and an extra room with the newest VR equipment for crew entertainment and relaxation. There was also a large luggage bay in the rear of the ship. Altogether, despite the enlargement, the Tarrypin was a claustrophobic vessel for anyone but the Patrol-trained.

  Inside the darter in her quarters, Lieutenant Commander Valerie Noonan wore a T-shirt and shorts as she did pushups. Valerie was a slender Star Watch officer with her long brunette hair tucked under a military hat. She’d finished 25 pushups so far and was trying for another 25 without stopping. They had been smooth until now, but she was beginning to feel the strain.

  The next five went well enough. She lowered herself until her breasts touched the deck. Then, she shoved upward. After the next ten pushups, however, her arms began to shake as her triceps burned with fatigue.

  She’d been skipping calisthenics for several weeks and was now paying for it.

  The next five pushups proceeded as her arms shook worse than ever. At number 46, her arms gave out and she struck the deck with her chest.

  Valerie lay there, gasping for air, her arms quivering. She knew what the problem was, why she’d missed doing calisthenics for so long. The darter was too small for strenuous running and she’d neglected to install a treadmill. Sure, she could ask Victory for one, but somehow that would feel like a personal defeat.

  Would she have to talk to Maddox or Keith? She didn’t want to see either one, and the reason was simple. She was having trouble with Ensign Lucas Rogers. The man wasn’t listening to her properly, and she’d found him leering at her from time to time.

  The trouble was the tiny amount of space aboard the darter. Well, that was one of the problems. The other was that she wasn’t sure of the correct way to deal with Rogers. He was supposed to be Patrol-trained, able to survive in small quarters and in deep space for months on end.

  Valerie was beginning to believe that someone at headquarters had sabotaged her by giving her a misfit.

  Climbing from the deck, Valerie debated whether she should head to the only shower aboard the Tarrypin. If she didn’t, she would feel sweaty and gritty the entire day. If she bumped into Rogers on the way to the shower, he would likely run his eyes over her.

  Yes, she could give him an official reprimand, and that would enter his service record…but she was going to have to spend a long time with him in the cramped darter. Did she want an angry ensign all that time?

  The other problem was Lucas Rogers’ size. If he’d been built like Keith, she might have tested Rogers on the mat, defeating him in hand-to-hand combat while training. Maddox and others had taught her, and she was tough…but she was too light for someone like Rogers.

  The ensign was built like a tank, a space marine. He lifted weights in the small gym and must have used steroids of some kind to build those muscles of his.

  Wasn’t using steroids illegal for a Patrol officer? She’d have to check up on that.

  She sighed. Every time she’d been stern with him, Rogers had taken it as a sexual game. Maybe it was one of his erotic fantasies. The way he leered at her sometimes, it sure felt that way.

  Valerie took a towel from her locker, opened the hatch and refused to look both ways. The hall was short, the two nearest hatches to the personal quarters of the crew.

  There were three of them aboard the Tarrypin, if one included her.

  Valerie started down the short hall, and wouldn’t you know it, but Roger’s hatch opened as if he knew she was here.

  The big man stepped out. He wore gym shorts and nothing else except for a towel wrapped around his thick neck. He was six-four with broad muscular shoulders, long muscular arms and a handsome head with a blond buzz-cut. He was blue-eyed and had a classic space marine look, his jaw bigger than his cranium. In another time and place, Valerie might have admired the man.

  “Hey, LC, race you to the shower,” Rogers said, his eyes glowing as he took in her sweat-dampened shirt and her hidden breasts underneath.

  “Ensign,” she said, sternly.

  Rogers raised his eyebrows, his smile widening fractionally.

  That was finally too much, especially as the man had caught her out of her quarters without wearing a bra. She felt sexual tension between them, and she despised that.

  “This is official,” Valerie said, feeling foolish as she said it. “Unless you immediately apologize, I will put you on report for conduct unbecoming of a Patrol officer.”

  “LC?” he asked, as if confused. He said LC in lieu of Lieutenant Commander.

  Valerie opened her mouth to give him another warning. She knew, though, that warnings were useless with him. Only action would count. A threat was no good if the other didn’t believe it.

  “I’m logging the report, Ensign.”

  “What did I do, huh?”

  “Engaged in conduct unbecoming of a Patrol officer,” she said, feeling better already.

  “Because I looked at your tits? Are you kidding me? The way you’re flaunting them, who wouldn’t look?”

  “Insubordination can result in your immediate termination.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “I would formerly request Captain Maddox to put you in Victory’s brig until we return to Earth.”

  “Balls!” he said.

  She felt her face flush with heat.

  He laughed. “If you want to cool down, we can shower together, LC.”

  The flush departed as Valerie felt herself grow cold. She headed down the corridor for the control room. There was a comm panel in there. She would call Victory and make the request. She was through with Ensign Lucas Rogers.

  “Lieutenant Commander,” Rogers called, with authority in his voice.

  Something about that troubled Valerie. She whirled around.

  Rogers stepped out of his quarters. He stood stiffly and bowed at his six-pack wa
ist. “I’m officially sorry for my behavior, ma’am. I hope you won’t take this personally, but the Lord High Admiral assigned me to test your command resolve. I’m not really an ensign, but a Patrol lieutenant from Testing. Your real ensign is awaiting assignment aboard Victory.”

  “What?”

  “My recommendation is to not take this personally. It was a test, and you passed, most admirably, I might add.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No, ma’am, I’m not.”

  “Then I’ll call Victory in any case, as you’re still leaving.”

  “Yes, please do call. But could I recommend that you do so while wearing your uniform?”

  She stared into his face, searching for the sexual innuendo. For once, it was not there.

  “I’ll return to my quarters and get ready for reassignment aboard Victory.” Without waiting for her permission, Rogers entered his quarters and the hatch shut behind him.

  Valerie stood indecisively for several seconds. Then, she headed for the shower.

  -21-

  Maddox was in his ready room, reading reports. He didn’t care for this part of the job. It had always been a chore for him. It was one thing searching records on an Intelligence mission. That was exciting because it could result in a breakthrough on a case. This, however, was simply boring. This was one of the reasons he wondered if he really was fit to be a starship captain.

  A good leader was like an alpha wolf, one who enjoyed leading the pack. He was more like a solitary leopard, often at his best alone. He’d managed all this time to act like an alpha wolf—

  There was a chime at the hatch.

  “Enter,” Maddox said.

  The hatch opened and Meta stepped through. His wife had that look that indicated she was on a mission.

  Maddox set down the reader and pointed at the chair before his desk.

  Meta took a seat, staring at him.

  “All right, what is it?”

  Meta hesitated, glancing at her hands. “I don’t mean to presume, Captain—”

  “None of that,” Maddox said. “What is it?”

  Meta looked up, the intensity returning. “You just admitted Lieutenant Lucas Rogers onto Victory.”

  “You mean from the Tarrypin?”

  Meta nodded.

  “What about it?”

  “Don’t you find that odd?”

  “That the Lord High Admiral tested a new Lieutenant Commander?”

  “Technically, it was the Patrol Board that assigned the tester and gave him instructions on what to examine.”

  “That wasn’t what I read,” Maddox said.

  “I know. I did a little research into that, though.”

  Maddox raised his eyebrows.

  “Remember how we used to deal with androids and Spacer agents stowing away on Victory to attack from within at the worst possible moment?”

  “Of course, I remember. We’ve stepped up security measures since then. Oh. I see. Rogers didn’t go through the same security sweep. I don’t have direct authority over the Tarrypin, at least about what happens inside Valerie’s ship. Thus, she and her crew went through a Patrol sweep before landing the darter in Hangar Bay Four.”

  “A Patrol security sweep isn’t as thorough as ours,” Meta said.

  “Do you suspect Rogers is an enemy agent?”

  “At the very least, he could have HMD leanings,” Meta said. “And I don’t know if you know about the nature of his tests.”

  Maddox shook his head.

  “They were odd for a Patrol tester.”

  “Explain,” Maddox said.

  Meta did.

  “How did you learn that? It wasn’t in the report.”

  “I requested permission to board the Tarrypin and visited with Valerie. She told me what really happened. It shook her, although she didn’t directly say that.”

  “Well…we’re doubling back through the Commonwealth, heading for a distant nexus,” Maddox said. “We’re not heading straight for Earth or any other planet, but we are passing near several star bases. It would be easy enough to send Rogers away in a shuttle.”

  “Don’t you find it odd that he hasn’t already requested that? Why would a Patrol tester wish to stay aboard Victory? He must know we could be gone for years.”

  Maddox leaned back in his chair as he looked up at the ceiling. How had he missed all this? He regarded his wife. “As an ex-assassin, we should put you in charge of security instead of working communications.”

  “I’m happy with my posting, particularly as it puts me on the bridge.”

  Maddox stood. Meta stood as well. “I’m going to have a talk with Rogers, get a feel for the man. I’ve had enough enemy agents popping up on my starship for a lifetime. If he is one—maybe we can nip it before it turns into something worse.”

  “Be careful,” Meta said.

  “I always am.”

  Meta eyed him sidelong as she departed.

  ***

  Maddox sat in the officers’ mess, sipping wine. He’d been waiting ten minutes past the appointed time, wondering what could be delaying Rogers.

  Then he noticed the lieutenant arriving. The man wore a Patrol uniform but walked like a cage fighter, one that believed he owned any place he set his feet. Rogers did not glance around in haste, but eyed his surroundings like an Intelligence agent until he spied the waiting captain. He headed to the table, nodding in greeting, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

  Instead of saying, “You’re late,” Maddox asked, “Would you like something to drink?”

  “I’m fine,” Rogers said, as he set his folded hands on the table.

  Maddox took another sip of wine as he analyzed the situation. The lieutenant seemed unhurried, unruffled and thus unconcerned. With a shock, Maddox realized, I don’t like him. It was more than just a clash of personalities. He’s off. He’s not a Patrol tester; maybe he doesn’t really belong in the Patrol at all. Maddox set down the goblet. He had enough problems this mission to deal with more. It was time to quash this—send Rogers away and radio ahead to the star base to hand him over to Intelligence for deep interrogation. And there was Rogers’ attempt to humiliate Valerie.

  Maddox stood abruptly.

  Rogers remained seated.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Lieutenant. If you’ll come with me, you can be on your way.”

  “Sir?” Rogers asked.

  “Stand up when I’m addressing you, mister.”

  Rogers cocked his head, and he smirked, he actually smirked. Moving insultingly slowly, he pushed back from the table and stood up, staring at the captain in a challenging manner.

  “This way,” Maddox said, turning, heading for the exit. He didn’t look back to see if Rogers was following him. He had a sense the man was not. That was fine. He’d insulted Valerie, insulted one of his crew—one of the best officers he’d ever had the honor of working with. If the bastard wanted to play Mr. Tough Guy with him too, that was fine with Maddox. If Rogers really was a secret enemy agent, this was a good way of dealing with him.

  Maddox exited the cafeteria and strode down a corridor.

  “Hey, Captain, wait for me.”

  Maddox did not bother turning around. He suspected that Rogers had deliberately moved slowly at the beginning, Now, the man was having trouble catching up. Maddox increased the speed of his stride.

  “Maddox!” Rogers shouted.

  The captain turned a corner, and he debated running to increase the distance between them. He nixed the idea, as he heard heavy footfalls behind him, indicating a hard-running man.

  “Captain,” Rogers shouted, from closer than before.

  Maddox ignored the call.

  Rogers kept sprinting, his footfalls nearing until he must have reached out, as he grasped Maddox by a shoulder.

  The captain spun around and slugged the lieutenant in the gut, apparently catching the man by surprise. Rogers’s eyes went wide, his mouth opened and he staggered back. That surprised Maddox, who h
ad expected the man to collapse onto his butt. That Rogers didn’t fall proved he was tougher than he should be.

  “Hey,” Rogers said, as he massaged his stomach. “What was that for?”

  “You grabbed a superior officer from behind. I assumed it was an attack and reacted instinctively.”

  “I’m calling bullshit on that,” Rogers said. “For some reason, you wanted to hit me. You’d better thick twice about that and apologize for what you did.”

  A feral light clicked on in Maddox’s eyes, and he grinned. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me, big shot. I’m calling bullshit. If you were a man, you’d call me out, and we’d fight—” Rogers abruptly stopped talking.

  “Oops,” Maddox said.

  “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

  “You just revealed that you’re HMD.”

  “Doesn’t that stand for Humanity Manifesto Doctrine? Star Watch had some trouble with those believing in the doctrine. I don’t get what that has to do with me.”

  “If I were a man…”

  Something happened in Rogers’ eyes, some kind of understanding. It caused his features to harden. “Okay, I let that slip, so what? You’re a breed. We all know it. You want to make a big deal about that?”

  “Breed?” asked Maddox.

  “It stands for half-breed, big shot. You’re a partial spawn of a New Man.”

  Maddox studied Patrol Lieutenant Lucas Rogers. There was something really off here, something not making sense. In ways, Rogers acted like an Intelligence agent. In other ways, he acted like a dumb jock, a tough one, surely. That would indicate the jock routine was an act. And if it was an act, it was meant as a cover for something more sinister than a mere HMD bigot.

  “What you staring at, breed?”

  “Galyan,” Maddox called.

  The little holoimage popped into view. “You rang, sir?” Galyan asked, perhaps still using his humor program.

  “Run an interior scan on Lieutenant Rogers. I want you to search for any—”

  “No,” Rogers said, holding out his right hand, palm forward at Galyan.