The Lost Planet (Lost Starship Series Book 6)

by Vaughn Heppner

“Find anything?” Riker asked.

  “Whatever is in the box used a wireless connection to turn on the gas in the incinerator lobby. You made the correct move turning on the jammer, cutting its connection. However, what I find—”

  The holoimage stopped talking as Riker’s left hand moved through it. The sergeant had meant to grab Galyan’s shoulder to get the AI’s attention, forgetting that Galyan was just a holographic projection.

  On the wall screen, a slot opened on the box. Doctor Rich had quit moving. She seemed frozen in place.

  “What is wrong with her?” Galyan asked.

  “She took off her glove a bit ago,” Riker said. “To my mind, that’s an opening into her suit. I wonder if the thing in the box has released an invisible gas.”

  “Did you know the thing would attempt this?” Galyan asked. “Is that why you asked to tag along?”

  “Something tricked the professor. Perhaps we’re witnessing one of the thing’s operating procedures. My guess is it’s finally figured out how to move even with a jammer aimed at it.”

  “Do you think it has released a hypnotic gas?”

  Riker snapped his fingers. “I hadn’t thought it out that far, but that makes sense.”

  On the screen, another slot snicked open on the box. A thin metallic tentacle slid out. It cast about like a blind creature.

  Riker watched in loathing. What was that?

  “The jammer has blinded it,” Galyan said. “But the jammer has not incapacitated it completely. Is that a hypodermic tip on the end of the tentacle?”

  Riker shouted in outrage. The tentacle seemed to be searching for Dana. The sergeant ran to the hatch and attempted to open it, but it would not move.

  “No,” Riker shouted. He applied his bionic strength to the hatch, causing something to grind. With a wrenching sound, he pried the hatch open.

  There was a sickly sweet odor in the chamber. Riker held his breath, stepped in and saw the tentacle touch the doctor. Gently like a serpent, the tentacle felt around, found her naked hand and slithered inward up the sleeve.

  With revulsion making his heart beat faster, Riker drew his gun and fired. He missed the tentacle but dented the metal box three times.

  The tentacle whipped out of Dana’s sleeve, writhing back and forth. Another tentacle appeared. This one had a vicious-looking tip with a green solution dripping from it.

  Riker ran into the room, fired until his pistol clicked empty and grabbed Dana Rich. He dragged her toward the hatch. She seemed inert, but stumbled after him.

  The hairs rose on the back of Riker’s neck. He sensed awful danger. He dropped the gun. It clunked onto the floor. With both hands, he grabbed the doctor, dragging her faster to the hatch.

  Dana began to resist feebly.

  Riker stumbled over the hatch, yanked Dana and dragged them both down the corridor. At that point, something exploded in the cell. Blast and fire roared from the hatch. It blew Riker off his feet. He kept hold of Dana, yanking her on top of him.

  She began to vomit in her suit. Riker could feel her body trembling.

  A klaxon blared somewhere nearby.

  Using his bionic strength, Riker tore off her helmet. She vomited, gasped and vomited some more. Her skin had turned green.

  “Emergency,” Riker said in a gruff voice. “We have an emergency. Somebody, help me. Somebody—”

  The sergeant stopped talking as Dana puked again. It was a horrible sound. He wanted to do more. He heard the sound of shouting people and the tramp of feet.

  Then he closed his eyes as he fell unconscious.

  -37-

  Riker hadn’t always hated hospitals. The operations giving him the bionic arm and eye had changed that. He’d been a mess that time, and the healing, learning to use his bionic parts, had been a tedious, even torturous experience. Every time he went for a checkup, he got the shakes. The few times he’d been hospitalized after the experience had left him cranky and upset.

  Riker lay in a medical facility with a tube in his biological arm. He felt weak, with hardly the energy to open his eyes.

  One time he forced his eyes open, and he’d found Galyan standing by his side. The AI had said hello. Riker had tried to respond. He was still trying when he found the space marine sitting in a chair beside him.

  “What…happened?” Riker asked hoarsely.

  The seated marine was staring at a tablet, his thumbs flicking controls. It looked like Sims played a video game.

  The thick-faced lieutenant looked up, his eyes scrunched with concentration. When he realized Riker had spoken, the marine lowered the tablet to his lap. The scrunch left his face and a touch of sheepishness replaced it.

  “Look Sergeant…I, ah, shouldn’t have…”

  Riker attempted to tell the boy it was all right. He found that his lips were too numb for him to speak properly.

  “I ought not to have hit you,” Sims said in a rehearsed manner. “I’m…ah, sorry I did. Look, I don’t like your captain. That’s no secret. He’s a New Man. Anyone can tell that. And we can’t trust New Men. They’re murderous bastards. I thought maybe you were helping him, you know, take care of me on the sly.”

  Riker managed a bare nod.

  “No hard feelings then?” Sims asked, sticking out a big hand.

  Riker made a croaking noise. It was all he could manage.

  “I guess that means yes. Good. I’ll tell the lieutenant you’re awake.”

  The marine left. Riker closed his eyes a second later…

  ***

  The third time was the charm. Lieutenant Noonan peered down at him.

  Riker felt even weaker than before as he stirred. A heady perfume wafted around him. He smiled wistfully.

  “You look like death warmed over,” Valerie said.

  “Such poetry,” Riker said in a whispery voice.

  “I’ll let you go back to sleep.” She turned to go.

  Riker summoned his reserves of energy. It surprised him that he still had any. “Wait,” he said, more forcefully than before.

  Valerie turned back.

  “Help me sit up,” Riker whispered.

  Valerie grabbed an arm, and she hauled on him. He tried to help. Her strenuous effort told him he was weaker than he’d realized. Finally, as she panted and stepped away, Riker found himself almost dizzy sitting up so high.

  “What happened to me?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

  “Poison gas.”

  “And Dana?”

  “She breathed more of it than you. She’s on life-support. We still don’t know. The chief medical officer says it’s fifty-fifty she’ll live.”

  “The thing in the box…?”

  Valerie seemed to weigh him with her eyes.

  “I have to know,” Riker said.

  “Andros Crank studied what was left of the box,” Valerie said. “He recognized a few pieces. Those pieces had Builder patterns and one Swarm pattern. We don’t know if androids put it there. It doesn’t make sense that a Swarm creature did.”

  “Ludendorff put it there,” Riker whispered.

  “I was talking about who put a Swarm virus in the box. You mean who put the box in the ship. Maybe Ludendorff did, but when did he do it? That brings us to another question. When did the thing in the box get to him? Did the creature in the box want Ludendorff to come to this planet? Why did it want that? Could it be a Rull creature?”

  Riker tried to follow her questions. It made his eyes cross.

  “I’m sorry,” Valerie said. “You’re still recovering. I should let you rest.”

  “Listen,” he said weakly. “I have to get up.”

  “No. You have to rest. You have to get better. Your body took a hit. We can take care of this.”

  Riker summoned more of his scanty reserves so he could keep speaking. “Dana is down. She’s the best person after the professor to puzzle out the meaning of these clues. The captain is uncommonly perceptive regarding these mysteries, as well. But he’s gone. So that just leaves me, the
plodder. I have the right mindset to help the rest of you see.”

  Valerie put a hand on his regular arm. “We can’t do anything at the moment. The landing party has disappeared. I don’t believe the savages ate them, not with the captain leading the others. I doubt the landing party is hiding in any of the surface buildings. The most likely answer is that they’re somewhere underground. Do I dare to order another landing party down to search the underworld? That seems like madness.”

  “So we do nothing?” Riker asked.

  “What else can we do?”

  A traitorous wave of weariness rolled over him, clouding his thinking. It would appear his reserves had run dry. He could hardly keep his eyes open now.

  “Search…” Riker whispered.

  “What was that?”

  Riker was vaguely aware of her hands gripping the cot’s railing. By the whitening of her knuckles, he knew the question was important. He strove to understand what she had said. He fought to keep his eyes open.

  Then it seemed as if a thick fog rolled over his mind. His dreaming mind took over. Riker saw the captain running in place. He tried to shout. He had to tell the captain something critical. But no matter how hard Riker tried, he couldn’t speak.

  It left him feeling useless and old, and as if he’d let the young man down.

  -38-

  Maddox did not turn around as his cell door opened.

  He’d been in the alien jail far too long, without any word about what had happened to the rest of the landing party or to Victory. He’d exercised strenuously, having done many handstand pushups and over a thousand deep-knee bends.

  Maddox felt the breath of fresh air. He could feel the scrutiny of someone staring at him. He debated whirling around and attacking before he even saw who had come to get him. That might give him a moment of surprise.

  He hated confinement, had gone to strenuous mental lengths to keep from going stir crazy.

  “Captain Maddox,” a Vendel said through a translator box. “You will come with us.”

  Maddox forced himself to move slowly, turning to regard Pascal le Mort, the sub-chief. The Vendel had a hand on his holstered weapon. The other hand beckoned.

  Four other aliens stood behind Pascal. They aimed hand-weapons with over-large muzzles. Maddox assumed those were dart guns. Would they tranquilize him if he tried to escape?

  “You’re not taking any changes,” Maddox said.

  “You must come,” Pascal said. “The Raja is waiting.”

  Maddox raised an eyebrow. “I’m too scruffy to meet the Raja just now.”

  “You must come,” Pascal said. “Otherwise, we will drag you into the Raja’s presence. You will look even…scruffier…after that.”

  Maddox straightened his uniform and dusted several spots. He picked pieces of lint from the cloth and flicked them away. Stepping forward, he put a boot onto a stool and rubbed a spot on the toe.

  “That is sufficient,” Pascal said. “Now, come.”

  Maddox heard exasperation in the alien’s tone. It would seem it did not take much to excite Vendels. Was that normal, or did it just pertain to Pascal?

  Maddox exited the cell, finding medical and scientific equipment out here. The four dart-carriers fell in step around him, with two in front and two behind. The sub-chief brought up the rear. That was a wise precaution. It meant he had to overcome three Vendels instead of just two to get his hands on a dart-thrower.

  Maddox forced himself to relax as they entered a long corridor. He needed to soften their vigilance. He needed to show them that they had nothing to worry about from him. If they dropped their guard just enough…maybe he could get his hands on the Raja. That would be a powerful bargaining chip. Trade the Raja for the release of Victory’s people. The trick after that would be getting back to the starship.

  They took several turns, walked down a ramp and began to trudge through an exceptionally long corridor. It felt like a lonely place.

  Maddox’s neck began to tingle. Something wasn’t right about this. He could not pinpoint it and say, this is why I feel this way. His gut instincts told him this was wrong.

  “I say, have you fellows ever heard of the…Builders?” Maddox asked, sharply, as he imitated Major Stokes’s manner of speech.

  The alien guards ahead of him glanced back. Before the captain realized that the guards had no idea what his English word meant, the end of a pistol jabbed against the small of his back.

  “You will not repeat that,” Pascal hissed into his ear. “That is a forbidden word. Do you understand?”

  “Quite,” Maddox said.

  The gun left his back. Pascal resumed his former position, and they continued the journey down the corridor.

  The bad feeling didn’t leave. Maddox decided on another ploy. He said over his shoulder, “We’re not going to see the Raja.”

  “I did not give you leave to speak,” Pascal said.

  “Why are you taking the Raja’s prisoner elsewhere?” Maddox asked. “Have I broken a religious taboo and you’re taking me to the priests?”

  When no answer was forthcoming, Maddox glanced over his shoulder. It surprised him to see a nervous Pascal.

  “Do the priests plan to kill me for my sacrilege?” Maddox asked.

  “You must cease talking,” Pascal said.

  “Are you a traitor to the Raja?”

  A sheen of perspiration had appeared on Pascal’s hairless face. He sucked his lips inward. It seemed like a nervous tic.

  “I am unfamiliar with Vendel customs,” Maddox said. “Thus, if I have inadvertently offended you, I apologize.”

  “No more speech,” Pascal said. “Otherwise—”

  Maddox stopped, threw back his head and laughed. He noticed two of the guards glancing at Pascal for an explanation. The sub-chief jabbered at them in the alien tongue.

  This was his chance. Maddox kicked a Vendel in the shin. The alien howled. The other guards fired as expected. Maddox shifted with phenomenal speed. Darts hissed past. One struck a questioning guard in the chest. He went down in a heap. With stiffened fingers, Maddox jabbed another guard in the throat. The Vendel crumbled as he gurgled. Maddox moved like a whirlwind. The Vendels were just as tall as he was, but he was stronger and faster. He picked up a fallen dart gun and shot Pascal in the throat. Using the butt, he smashed the last alien’s face, dropping him.

  Maddox panted from the exertion. He picked up a loaded gun, ripped the collar and translator box from Pascal’s throat and took out the earpiece. Loaded with equipment, Maddox sprinted down the long corridor, leaving the fallen behind.

  This was a longshot. But he’d had to take what he could the moment the aliens became careless.

  The problem proved to be the length of the corridor. It went on forever. Finally, Maddox walked briskly, sweating from his run. Glancing back, he found himself thoroughly alone. Was this an execution area? Had he blasphemed by talking about the Builders?

  Finally, Maddox spied a door. He did not break into a sprint to reach it. He wanted to save some energy in case more aliens waited behind there.

  When he reached the hatch, Maddox looked back the way he’d come. No one followed. He put his ear to the door. He could not hear anything. He tested the knob, finding that it would turn. Maddox’s heart thudded. He put the translation collar around his throat, made an adjustment, hoping this was English to Vendel, and put the earpiece in his ear. Once ready, he turned the knob again. He tightened his stomach muscles, readied the dart gun and hurled the door open.

  Three golden-skinned New Men whirled around in surprise. They wore silver suits and—

  Maddox shot a New Man in the chest. He fired again. The alerted New Man shifted so the dart scraped the suit, but didn’t penetrate. Maddox pulled the trigger a third time, and the dart gun jammed. The captain hurled the gun—

  The tallest and noblest-looking New Man ducked the gun and lashed out, kicking the side of Maddox’s hip. It was like a sledgehammer hitting, hurling the captain backward.r />
  The tall New Man followed through the hatch into the corridor.

  Maddox surged off the wall. He jabbed with his left. The New Man blocked with ease. The golden-skinned one was stronger and faster than Maddox, substantially so.

  “You cannot win,” the New Man said in a neutral voice.

  Maddox backed up. The side of his hip hurt. His face hurt. The enemy had hit him several times already.

  “I am your superior.”

  Maddox spit to the side.

  The New Man grinned, but it hardly seemed genuine.

  “Who are you?” Maddox asked.

  “Dem Darius,” the New Man said. “I know your name is Maddox.”

  “Do you know Strand?” the captain asked.

  A conflicted look came over the New Man’s features.

  Maddox launched an attack, throwing punches and kicks. Darius blocked with what seemed like contemptuous ease. At last, Darius sighed.

  “Do not say that name,” the New Man said.

  “Do you know Strand?” Maddox said.

  A grimace twisted the New Man’s face. He stepped closer and hit Maddox a stunning blow, knocking him to the floor.

  Maddox lay there gasping.

  Darius bent over him, whispering, “Yes, I know that one. Soon, you will, too. Come. It is time.”

  Darius hauled Maddox to his feet as he twisted one of the captain’s arms around behind him. He force-marched Maddox through the door to the other conscious New Man. The third golden-skinned individual was dead. It hadn’t been a trank but a death-dealing dart.

  “Where are we going?” Maddox hissed.

  Darius wrenched the captain’s arm higher behind his back. Then he reached for the captain’s other arm and had the second New Man manacle Maddox’s wrists. “No more questions. You will learn soon enough, to your eternal sorrow.”

  -39-

  Maddox stumbled as Darius shoved him.

  The three of them had moved into deeper tunnels, with condensation dripping from a low ceiling. They had to crouch as they tried to keep running, and the only illumination came from the second New Man’s flashlight. Foul-smelling water pooled everywhere and worse smelling patches of fungus made each of them watch their step.