The Lost Secret

by Vaughn Heppner

  “True…” Ludendorff said, as he squeezed his lower lip. “Ah!” he said, looking up. “Plain curiosity could have been Balron’s primary motive. Yes. Notice Half-Life’s purpose—to record our behaviors and emotions. That lines up with my supposition. Balron is curious about us and has been manipulating us like rats in a maze.”

  Maddox considered the idea, realizing he wasn’t fully convinced. There was something more. He was certain of that.

  “Do you disagree with my analysis?” Ludendorff asked.

  “Not as far as it goes… But I think there’s something more. Suppose Balron is curious. Why is he curious?”

  Once more, Ludendorff pointed at Maddox while snapping his fingers. “That’s the question, isn’t it? My answer is, I don’t know. It would seem to have something to do with our mission to the Library Planet. Half-Life was to monitor us as we traveled there. That implies Balron will be at the planet.”

  “Maybe…”

  “It’s as good a theory as any. No! It’s better.”

  Maddox drummed his fingers on the desk.

  “Tell me why you think I’m wrong.”

  “It’s not that,” Maddox said. “It’s Lucas Rogers, what he represents. His presence becomes more troubling as we unravel Balron’s identity and motives. Who put Rogers here? Did they suspect Balron would invade our ship?”

  “You’re leaping from one topic to another.”

  “Half-Life called Lucas Rogers a hunter,” Maddox said, ignoring the professor’s comment. “From its actions, the construct seemed to have feared Rogers.”

  “Okay,” Ludendorff said, “I’ll play along. Did Half-Life fear Rogers? We only think that because Half-Life told us he did. But we know Half-life lied about several things.”

  Maddox rubbed his jaw. “When Balron was here, why didn’t he sense Rogers in the Tarrypin and eliminate him?”

  Ludendorff raised his eyebrows. “That’s a good question. Maybe Rogers knew how to hide from Balron. Yes. Maybe his Builder modifications allowed Rogers to do so. If that’s true, that’s good news for us. It means Balron isn’t as powerful as he seems. It means a human like Rogers could and did foil him.”

  Maddox stood up, itching to pace anew. He turned to the window instead, staring at the stars. “Could Rogers have been more dangerous than we realized?”

  “Given his primitive actions, it’s hard to fathom.”

  Maddox turned to Ludendorff.

  “I heard how he treated Valerie,” Ludendorff said. “I think Rogers got off sexually on what he did. That’s what a primitive personality would do with such powers.”

  “A primitive personality like you?” asked Maddox.

  For a moment, Ludendorff was dead-faced. Maybe he was deciding how to take the comment. He grinned a second later. “I’m a primitive with a potent sex drive and fantastic brainpower. It has allowed me unbelievable sexual conquests and unsurpassed delights. The women I’ve loved have swooned with passion. I could tell you stories—”

  “Perhaps we should stick to the issue,” Maddox said dryly.

  Ludendorff chuckled, his former fear seemingly forgotten. “I understand. It’s intimidating knowing there are people like me in the universe.”

  “I still want to know how Lucas Rogers’s superiors knew Balron would invade Victory.”

  “That isn’t a given,” Ludendorff said. “Perhaps his superiors knew about Balron, but expected Rogers to deal with him at the Library Planet.”

  “How did Rogers’s superiors learn about our destination?”

  “I would think through old-fashioned espionage,” Ludendorff said.

  “You’re full of answers, and that’s good. Now tell me how you could build something like Half-Life?”

  Ludendorff’s good humor evaporated as pain entered his eyes. “Do you recall the weapon I once built in the Alpha Centauri System?”

  Maddox remembered all too well, as he’d wielded the weapon against a Ska, and through that, billions had died. “Are you saying the knowledge to build Half-Life was long ago installed in your brain by a Builder?”

  Ludendorff frowned. “I don’t know about that. Perhaps this Balron ‘installed’ the data as you say. I wish I knew the answer.”

  “I second that.”

  Ludendorff scowled. “What are you implying?”

  “That I’m confused, worried and uncertain about the right course to take. Balron likely awaits us at the Library Planet as you suggested; maybe Rogers’s superiors will show up, too. And what happened to Half-Life? Will we see him again as well?”

  “The mysteries are piling up.”

  Maddox nodded as turned to the window, staring at the expanse of stars. Why had Balron shot and clinically killed him and then added oxygen to his brain so he would have a successful resuscitation? There was more to it than mere curiosity. Did Rogers’s presence mean Spacers were involved or was the man part of a mercenary outfit that employed a few ex-Spacers?

  “We’re not turning back,” Maddox said.

  “I’m surprised you even considered that an option,” Ludendorff said.

  “I don’t want to arrive defenseless at the Library Planet. We need to devise a weapon to deal with Balron.”

  “By we you mean me,” Ludendorff said. “But we don’t even know what Balron really is.”

  “Start making some educated guesses. Then give me some counters. In the end, we can only do our best.”

  “Eh?” Ludendorff asked, surprised. “I thought winning was everything with you.”

  “It is. But there comes a point where it’s foolish to beat yourself up over it. We’ll prepare and then we’ll try our damnedest to win against all comers.”

  “What does the last part mean: all comers?”

  “Something that has been troubling me for months,” Maddox said. “Strand knows about the Library Planet and so do the New Men. Might Strand use knowledge of the place as a fulcrum to pry himself free of his prison?”

  “Hmm…” Ludendorff said, his eyes taking on a faraway look.

  “No comment?”

  Ludendorff did not reply, as he seemed wrapped up in his thoughts.

  “Strand,” Maddox said. What was the conniving Methuselah Man doing now, and would it affect their mission? It was one more problem or mystery to the ones already piling up.

  -28-

  Far away from Victory as it traveled for the enigmatic nexus in the Beyond, Golden Ural strode down a corridor in the Emperor’s palace on the Throne World. His cousin the Emperor had summoned him and had told him to bring his dueling saber.

  It had been two weeks since the incident over the mountain lake on the sky-sharks. Lieutenant Franco of the renegade missile cruiser Shelby had recovered from his ordeal, gaining weight as he stayed at Ural’s main country estate. A few days ago, Ural had observed Franco noticing one of his beauties. That had convinced Ural that the preman had regained his mental balance.

  Why should I think about Franco now?

  Ural knew why, but maybe he didn’t want to admit it to himself. The murderous affair with the Shelby’s crew troubled him. Surely, the Emperor could have found a more constructive use for the crew than as prey for slaughter. The two of them hadn’t spoken since then. Worse, Ural had heard a rumor that the Emperor had freed Strand from prison in order to take him along on a space voyage.

  Ural briskly took a regular turn in the corridor as he heard feminine laughter from ahead. That was odd. He always took this route when coming to visit the Emperor. He would soon pass an archway to a garden area with a pool. The laughter came again, along with sounds of splashing.

  Ural considered that.

  Could the Emperor have placed some of his women in the pool as a pretext to use against him?

  Ural did not like that he could think such a thing about his cousin. What did it say about their relationship?

  Don’t fool yourself. The Emperor is unhappy with you. Admit it to yourself. Yes. I have. He’s unhappy with me. I must take precautions.


  Did his cousin think he would poach from the royal harem? That would be grounds for an immediate duel to the death, one Ural was sure he would lose. Perhaps he would not have to poach to bring dishonor upon the Emperor, simply give some kind of cause for a duel.

  Ural warily approached the arch, although he continued to walk briskly. The laughter was louder this time. Worse, he heard the patter of wet feet. Then, two racy-clad beauties ran out from under the arch. They halted upon sight of him, one of them slipping and falling to the corridor floor before him. The other whirled around, running back under the arch into the garden-pool area.

  The other lay on the floor, a dark-haired woman with beguilingly painted eyes. Her hair wasn’t wet, but was like a provocative mane around her face. A small gold chain circled her head, holding a ruby against her forehead. The gem glittered.

  Ural inhaled.

  The woman had stunning proportions, breathtaking, and the way she watched him—she was ready to be taken.

  With a shock, Ural realized it was Venna, the Emperor’s favorite. Ural had seen her twice before at parties, where she’d danced for assembled dignitaries. It was the one occasion where a dominant could examine another’s harem without causing insult.

  Deciding that prudence would be wisest—she was nearly impossible to resist, which was strange—Ural turned his head.

  “That isn’t very gallant,” Venna purred in a sultry voice. “Am I too ugly to view?”

  Ural’s heart thudded. He wanted to look again, to feast his eyes upon her loveliness. Instead, he clicked his boot heels and bowed at the waist, still not looking at her.

  “I need help getting up,” she said, raising a languid arm. “Please, give me a hand.”

  Ural ached to do so, oh, he yearned to study her. He’d seen a glimpse, and she was indeed stunning. The desire to reach out and grasp her hand—

  Do you wish to die for the privilege? Are you a witless fool?

  “I beg your pardon,” Ural said in a hoarse voice. “I’m late for an appointment with the Emperor. If you’ll indulge me—” He strode past Venna on the floor, giving her a wary side-glance. What a sight! What a—

  She pouted, and as he passed, she climbed to her feet.

  Through considerable force of will, he resumed the distance-eating gait and soon turned another corner. His pulse yet beat rapidly. That was no accident, but a planned event. Who had planned it, though? The Emperor? Venna? Both seemed preposterous. His cousin would surely not stoop to such subterfuge, but would openly attack him. And why would Venna have attempted something like that on her own?

  For the briefest of moments, he wondered if Venna found him preferable to his cousin. A grin played upon his lips. Then the moment passed. Yet, he still toyed with the idea. Venna was lovely beyond measure, and she’d asked for his help.

  A strange feeling in the pit of his stomach surprised him. Do I want her?

  Several strides later, the answer hit him. Indeed, he wanted Venna, in fact, decidedly so.

  Ural neared the entrance to the meeting chamber. Why did he desire Venna to such a degree? Could the Emperor have sprayed an aphrodisiac in the corridor, one to inflame a man’s mind, and then engineered that he eye Venna? Or was it more subtle. If so, that would imply—

  “Strand,” he whispered.

  With the knowledge came a gleam of steel-like understanding. If Strand were free and had poisoned the Emperor’s mind against him—

  I’m in for the struggle of my life, and it has likely already started.

  -29-

  Golden Ural nodded to a baroquely dressed preman who opened the main chamber doors for him. The former Star Watch officer wore garments better suited to the court of Louis XIV of France, the Sun King of ancient Earth history.

  Ural actually fit in with the saber dangling from his waist. He also wore boots. The rest of his attire did not fit, however, as he wore a silver-colored one-piece.

  The preman shut the doors behind Ural.

  It was a spacious chamber with fluted columns spaced evenly throughout. The west wall did not exist, but showed one of the palace’s many outdoor gardens. This one had beautiful green shrubs and trees. The other three walls possessed elegant paintings, most of them from ancient Earth history, showing hunting scenes of red-coated premen on horses, surrounded by foxhounds. Along the east wall was a table with delicacies.

  The Emperor stood there, adding cheese and spiced bread to his plate.

  “Your Majesty,” Ural said.

  The Emperor looked up, and he smiled. “Cousin, come and select some viands.”

  Ural headed to the table, noting the Emperor wore a saber at his side and scarlet garments with black knee-high boots.

  Once more, Ural took in the large chamber. They were alone, which surprised him. No guards were in evidence. He took a dish from the table and added a few items to it.

  The Emperor had waited and was watching him closely.

  When Ural noticed the scrutiny, he smiled.

  “Is it a joke?” the Emperor asked.

  “Pardon?”

  “You smile as if you know a secret joke. Come. Share it with me—if you can.”

  “The smile was meant as a social pleasantry,” Ural said.

  “Nothing happened on the way here then?”

  That confirmed for Ural the way to handle what had happened. “Oh. Yes, there was an incident in the corridors. As I passed, two of your ladies fled their pool.”

  “Indeed. How did you know they were mine?”

  “True. It was a presumption on my part. However, as this is your palace, it seemed reasonable.”

  The Emperor said nothing but continued to watch him like a goshawk studying a rabbit nibbling on grass under his tree-branch perch.

  “Noticing that one of them was Venna confirmed my assumption,” Ural added in seeming innocence.

  The Emperor’s head swayed. “You gazed upon Venna?”

  “I’m a soldier, who should always be alert and ready to act. The two appeared suddenly, surprising me. I observed enough to recognize Venna’s mane of dark hair. At that point, knowing she is your favorite, I looked away.”

  The Emperor regarded him in silence.

  Ural maintained a patient half-smile, waiting as an innocent man would.

  “Are you lusting after my women?” the Emperor said slowly.

  “No, Sire.”

  The Emperor continued to stare at him.

  The urge to explain further was strong in Ural. He ignored it, more certain than ever that this was a trap.

  “I wonder if you’re still the man I once knew,” the Emperor said coldly.

  This was almost more than Ural could bear. It was impertinent and insulting, even if it did come from the Emperor. “If you doubt me, Sire…” Ural let the unspoken threat hang.

  “What if I say that I do doubt your word?”

  Clarity reasserted itself. This is a trap. Escape is critical. Ural dipped his head. “Then I shall take my leave, Your Majesty, as I have offended you in some manner.”

  “No!” the Emperor said in a ringing voice. “You will not leave until I give you permission to do so.”

  Ural set down his plate as sudden anger dissolved his former intentions. He stared back at his cousin, no longer caring enough that his life might be in jeopardy.

  “Hmm…” the Emperor said. “You acted like a cur a moment ago, in a cautious manner, but now I see fire in your eyes. You no longer whimper in your soul, but have managed to regain a semblance of dignity.”

  “Perhaps it’s time you showed me your evidence.”

  “Eh?”

  “What do you hold against me?” Ural asked.

  “Are you telling me what to do?”

  Ural opened his mouth, and he remembered that many among the Throne World considered him wise. Rash words weren’t wise here, particularly if this was a trap. The anger that had spurred him now dwindled enough that he regained control of himself and remembered that a soft answer often turned
away wrath.

  “I’m appalled that I’ve fallen so low in your esteem. I would like to know why. More, I would like to know who has slandered me in your presence.”

  “Would you now? Very well, come with me. We’ll see if you speak the truth or not.”

  The Emperor moved quickly. Ural moved just as fast, following him. They exited the chamber, using a side corridor. In moments, they entered another room. This one held four premen with beamers, each of them aimed at—

  “Strand,” Ural said.

  The Methuselah Man sat hunched over a monitor, looking up as they entered. He wore dark well-tailored garments and seemed to have received a recent haircut and manicure.

  “Well, Strand,” the Emperor said. “What did you see?”

  Ural’s face was impassive, but he thought, they recorded it. This was planned. Whose idea was this?

  Strand glanced at Ural before bowing his head to the Emperor. “I am unsure, Sire. He might have tried to sneak a peek at Venna. The monitor does not show it, but his posture in passing suggests it.”

  “Put it on the wall screen,” the Emperor said.

  Strand seemed as if he would say more, but then turned and manipulated his board.

  Ural and the Emperor turned to the picture on the wall screen. It showed Ural marching down a corridor, and replayed the scene between the two beauties and he.

  Ural stared straight ahead at the video, although he used his peripheral vision to study his cousin’s reaction.

  The Emperor watched the scene, absorbed and searching.

  Finally, the surveillance ended with Ural marching away as Venna stood and watched him go.

  Here it comes, Ural thought, ready to explode into action in a fight to the death. Maybe if he slew a preman, he could grab a beamer and slay all within the chamber.

  The Emperor turned to him. “I owe you an apology. You acted honorably, even as she gave you provocation. I will beat her for it.”

  Relief flooded through Ural, although he managed to click his heels together and dip his head.