No. The strikefighters peeled away as Geneva Spaceport batteries gained target lock on his shuttle. The main operator gave him precise instructions, informing him that failure to comply in any of them would cause the batteries to open fire.
Maddox did as ordered, landing with a thud onto the tarmac. Keith would have done it feather-soft. The shuttle was well away from any hangar, from any other building, flyer or air-car. Sirens wailed as he walked down the steps of the shuttle onto the tarmac. It was a little after two in the afternoon, the air pleasantly warm. He noted the mountains in the distance.
Armored vehicles screeched to a halt, three of them. Military police piled out. They wore body armor, although none of them wore powered battlesuits. The armor was a dull gray color with scarlet cloth showing in places and silvered visors shielding their helmeted faces. Each of the MPs carried a heavy rifle, all of them aimed at him.
“Captain Maddox?” asked the sergeant-in-charge.
“Yes?”
“Please unbuckle your gun belt, sir.”
“Am I under arrest?” asked Maddox.
The MPs stiffened. The sergeant-in-charge barked, “Disarm, Captain, or we will immediately open fire.”
After a half-second of thought, Maddox unbuckled the belt, proffering it, the holster and weapon in it to the sergeant-in-charge.
“Drop it on the tarmac,” the sergeant shouted.
Maddox did so.
“Step away from it.”
Maddox backed away.
The sergeant-in-charge motioned to one of the MPs. The man shouldered his rifle, approached the belt and drew the blaster from the holster, checking it. He turned to the sergeant and nodded.
“Please step into the last vehicle, Captain. We’re escorting you to Star Watch Headquarters. Any deviancy from the norm will result in your immediate arrest.”
Maddox did not nod or ask for clarification. He headed for the last armored car, never looking back. He sensed their tension, their fear of him. That seemed unwarranted.
Four MPs followed him into the armored car. None of them had their rifles. All had revolvers. All kept their distance in the armored car while aiming their guns at him.
“Mind if I ask a question?” Maddox asked.
“No talking,” the sergeant-in-charge said.
Maddox debated that, finally turning his head.
The ride took twenty minutes. The MPs escorted him outside. They were in an underground garage. The full escort marched him to an underground security station. There, Maddox underwent full body X-rays.
He must have passed, for a new batch of armored, visor-wearing MPs escorted him up elevators into guarded corridors. He counted twelve military police guarding various locations in the corridors.
Soon, they reached familiar territory. He was headed toward the Iron Lady’s former office. It surprised Maddox, but that struck him hard. Did they know Galyan had searched for her? Was this an insult?
The captain noticed an officer stick his head out a door and hurriedly duck back in and shut the door as they passed.
“Am I seeing Brigadier Stokes?” Maddox asked, knowing very well he wasn’t but wanting to see the reaction.
None of the MPs answered the question.
Maddox almost halted and told them he would walk no farther unless he received some answers. The way the MPs tensed…two of them gripping holstered shock batons… Such a display on his part would bring about an attempted beating. They might shoot him if he resisted too strenuously.
Maddox shrugged inwardly. He was in the fire now. Maybe he should have done this a different way. Maybe Nostradamus was toying with him. Had he been too late getting back to Earth?
The MPs brought him to the old Iron Lady’s outer office. Maddox noted the writing on a door. He was still going to see Commodore Akon Chom of Political Intelligence. This Chom had the Iron Lady’s old office. That office had a secret corridor to the old Lord High Admiral’s office. If Fletcher were in the old office, Chom would have direct access to him.
Political Intelligence must be superior to Military Intelligence. Did Strokes still run M.I.?
A red light flashed in the waiting room.
The MPs stood, heading for the outer exit. They seemed to be in a hurry to leave.
At the same time, the inner office door opened. Maddox heard a familiar purr of powered exoskeleton battle armor. A MP in the battlesuit aimed an arm cannon at him.
“Captain Maddox,” the outer suit speaker said. “Come in, please.”
Maddox stood. Just what was going on? This was excessive security, an example of paranoia. He walked toward the door, nonetheless. The armored MP retreated before him.
Maddox entered the room. Another power-armored MP aimed an arm cannon at him. The two were against the back wall.
“Captain Maddox,” said the man behind a sealed desk. “Please, come and sit. We have much to discuss.”
The desk was inside a glass box. There was no apparent entrance. The desk and chair looked like his grandmother’s old ones. The man inside the glass box was large and muscular with a chrome dome. He had slanted eyes and wore a glossy black uniform with a red clenched-fist symbol armband around the left biceps.
Maddox waited.
“Hello, Captain. I’m Commodore Akon Chom, the Director of Political Intelligence.”
“Glad to make your acquaintance, sir.”
Chom raised an eyebrow. “Are you really?”
“I said it.”
“Ah, so you did, so you did. Now, please, Captain, no more demonstrations like you made earlier on the tarmac. You’ve been too unruly, demanding answers at every turn. Must I resort to violence to get your attention?”
Maddox raised his eyebrows before glancing back at the battlesuited MPs. He faced Akon Chom again. It felt as if Nostradamus was toying with him. If the Liss Intelligence was this far along, why bother doing all this? It made no sense.
With a fatalistic shrug, Maddox went to the only chair, sitting down and seeing what would happen next.
-3-
Chom folded thick fingers on the desk. He smiled the way a crocodile might while eying a fawn coming to take a drink in the waterhole near dusk. Chom had white teeth and rugged features.
“One of my duties as the director is to ensure full allegiance to Star Watch. I also run the military police. Much of the security you’ve witnessed is my doing.”
Maddox waited.
“Do I sense disapproval on your part, Captain?”
“In what regard?” Maddox asked in a neutral voice.
“Concerning security, of course. You attempted to bicker with my people at every turn.”
Maddox remained silent, waiting for the reason for the meeting.
“All this surprises you, doesn’t it?” Chom said.
“May I ask in what way?”
Chom sat back, eyeing him. “Please, Captain, don’t try your coy routine with me. I’ve studied your file in exacting detail. I’ve gone over each of your exploits at headquarters. You’ve quite the cavalier attitude regarding your superior officers. You often do as you wish. One visit, for instance, you darted the chief of Star Watch Intelligence, darted an official Prime Ministerial liaison and killed the Prime Minister’s chief political advisor.”
“Methuselah Woman Lisa Meyers was the liaison,” Maddox said, “although we didn’t know the first part about her. An android infiltrator acted as the Prime Minister’s chief advisor and was busy attempting to program Lord High Admiral Cook when I killed the android.”
“And the chief of Intelligence then, the one you so casually darted?”
“Had sexually compromised himself with Lisa Meyers,” Maddox said.
“And this gave you license to rampage throughout headquarters, firing at will?”
Maddox indicated the glass cage and the battlesuits behind him. “These are precautions against such rampages?”
“You’re a quick study. Yes… You’re like a New Man in that regard, aren’t you?”<
br />
In the past, Maddox might have reacted at such a comment. Not today. Not in the least.
“Hmm…” Chom said. “Do you think it cowardly of me to sit behind protective glass?”
Maddox shrugged.
“Ah, but Captain, haven’t you watched an android prisoner through a two-way mirror before? Does a man walk naked into a cage with a man-eating tiger? Or does a cripple dare to fence with a master duelist? No. If one is physically weaker, one uses his mind in lieu of muscles. Mankind didn’t climb to dominance through pitting his strength against elephants, but through using his intellect.”
“I’m the elephant?”
“You’re highly dangerous. Naturally, the two battlesuited-police officers could shoot you down like a mad dog. But what if you jumped me and held me captive before they could react? The glass prohibits you from taking such action. Through my intellect, I’ve thwarted the physically superior specimen.”
“Why should I jump you, Director?”
“Why would you dart the former chief of Intelligence?”
Maddox said nothing, although he wondered if that was a subtle admission by Nostradamus that the Liss controlled the situation.
Chom indicated the glass cage and the battlesuited MPs. “This is how weaker, slower and duller men protect themselves against supermen. Firstly, they don’t take stupid chances. Secondly, they understand the differences and make logical adjustments. New Men, androids and Methuselah Women have often done as they wished at Star Watch Headquarters, gaining what they wanted through the use of their superior capabilities.” Chom folded his thick hands. “Let me assure you that those days are over. We’re not going to let androids, New Men or others waltz around as they wish. We’re protecting humanity against all comers.”
Maddox nearly asked about his grandmother, how her biographical erasure fit in all this. Instead, he said, “I’m curious. Does Political Intelligence monitor political reliability?”
“Oh, you are a fantastically quick study, Captain. It’s impressive, and salutary for me to witness in person. This is interesting, interesting indeed.” Chom leaned forward. “In this instance, political reliability also refers to genetic reliability. Does a New Man such as yourself believe in the Commonwealth? More precisely, are you willing to die to save Homo sapien humanity from the Throne World?”
“By your own admission, you’ve studied my file. I’ve served Star Watch loyally for years. I’ve sacrificed deeply to obtain one victory after another for—”
“Why?” asked Chom, who hunched his thick shoulders like a vulture seeking answers.
“Sir?”
“Did you serve Star Watch because the New Men had rejected you?”
“Begging your pardon, but that’s absurd. I’ve hated the New Men for most of my life. You know that.”
“Notice the past tense, Captain. You hated them versus hate them. What did Golden Ural tell you down on the planet when the two of you were alone together after the Battle of the Gomez System?”
“My father—” Maddox said, halting in mid-sentence.
“Go on,” Chom said. “Your father, what?”
“Loved my mother,” Maddox said stiffly.
“Is that why your father raped her, out of love?”
Maddox checked himself from lunging forward. What would have been the point of that?
“Speak up, Captain. I expect my people to answer me when I ask a question.”
“Excuse me. Have I been transferred to your command?”
Chom’s eyes narrowed. “Did you call Stokes before coming here?”
Maddox blinked several times, shaking his head. He should have called Stokes. He should have sent Galyan to see Stokes. Not doing so had been a mistake. Maybe their erasing the Iron Lady’s biographical data everywhere had upset him more than he’d realized. Had Nostradamus predicted that would happen?
Chom picked up a folder, opening it, scanning something before closing it again. He regarded Maddox.
“I requested your transfer into Political Intelligence. Your status is troublesome, something of this, something of that, but not wholly anything of one. You’re Patrol rated and deployed, and yet part of Intelligence. Stokes fought hard to retain your services. Given present circumstances, you will remain under his guidance for a special mission. He will give you the particulars. I wanted to speak to you personally, however, and gage your loyalty to Star Watch, to the ideal of saving humanity from the dangers out there. I find you troubling, Captain.”
“Thank you,” Maddox said.
“Ah, your signature manner,” Chom said, pushing the file away and pausing as if thinking. “There is something that puzzles me, though.”
Maddox nodded.
“Why did your fellow conspirators on Earth kill Ms. Livy?”
“Who?”
“Nice try,” Chom said. “I could almost believe that you have no idea who I’m referring to.”
“I don’t.”
Chom eyed him. “I see. This is what you look like when surprised. I won’t forget it.”
“Who is Ms. Livy?”
“She’s dead.”
“You already said that,” Maddox replied.
“Did I? Oh, yes, yes, I did.”
Maddox shrugged. He could have Galyan look into the death of this Ms. Livy later.
“Fine, Captain. You’ve passed muster just enough.”
“And…?” asked Maddox.
“And I bid you adieu, although I give you fair warning. Do your duty.”
“Director Chom,” Maddox said, suddenly tired of the man and this cat and mouse. “You can rest assured I will do my duty with utmost vigor.”
Chom become more alert. “What does that mean?”
“You know exactly what it means,” saying it in such a way and tone that Maddox didn’t need to add, “you bastard,” to have the meaning come through perfectly.
Chom’s face darkened. “You’re overbold, Captain. You’re here in my office after all. Anything could happen to you.”
Maddox noticed the dimmest flicker of movement in the corner. It had the shape of an Adok holoimage. Galyan had disobeyed orders. Maddox would like to know why but would have to wait to find out.
“Director,” Maddox said, buoyed by Galyan’s presence. “You obey orders, don’t you?”
Chom’s eyes narrowed.
Maddox refrained from taking it further, Galyan or not. “I do likewise,” he finished, deciding to end this game.
Chom kept starting at him, abruptly nodding. “We’ll call this meeting a test, an observation on my part concerning you. Thank you, Captain. You may leave. I’m sure the Lord High Admiral is waiting for you.”
Maddox stood. He refused to salute, but turned smartly, heading for the door. The excessive security, Galyan’s disobedience—the game had moved into higher gear.
-4-
“Do you understand what I’m telling you, Captain?”
Maddox sat before a huge desk in the office of the Lord High Admiral of Star Watch. He’d finished his brief regarding his time in the Erill System, having left out everything that had happened on the planet. Fletcher had asked questions, Maddox had answered, telling the older man nothing he didn’t want Fletcher to know. Then Fletcher had asked if Ludendorff were aboard Victory. Maddox had lied, saying no.
Now, Fletcher had started a new line of inquiry.
“I asked you a question, Captain,” Fletcher said in a querulous, old man’s tone.
“Sir,” Maddox said.
Fletcher frowned. He’d changed since Becker’s last visit and changed much since Maddox had last seen him. The Lord High Admiral’s shoulders hunched, and he’d been losing weight again. The right side of his face was stiff. He presently gripped a computer stylus in his right hand, a hand resting on the perfectly arranged desk. The grip seemed too tight, and Maddox had detected a quiver to the hand.
Was that why Fletcher kept his hand on the desk? Was he attempting to mask his frailty? The Lord High Admiral hadn�
��t seemed so frail two years ago.
There was a minute tightening to Fletcher’s eyes. That highlighted a web of wrinkles on his forehead. He seemed weary, and crotchety because of it.
“Yes, sir, I understand,” Maddox said.
Fletcher’s clenched right hand scraped over the desk as he leaned back. The clenched hand dropped off the desk onto his lap. Fletcher used his left hand to adjust the right. Then he glanced up, perhaps to see if Maddox had noticed.
The captain was studying a painting to the admiral’s left. It was of a schooner sailing on a rough sea.
Fletcher worked his mouth in and out, saying, “I refused the first two times they asked me to come out of retirement. Then, all the officers on the Board of the Admiralty united. They told me I had to take the post or Byron would become the new Lord High Admiral.”
“Yes, sir,” Maddox said. He knew all this. Why did Fletcher see the need to rehash two-year-old news? This was bizarre.
“No,” Fletcher said with a frown. “Don’t give me that. I know what happened in the Beyond when you faced Drakos and Thrax. Bryon would have been a mere figurehead if he’d become the new Lord High Admiral.”
Maddox said nothing. Fletcher had obviously deteriorated mentally and physically since the last time they’d met.
Fletcher raised his eyebrows and leaned forward. “If you ever repeat any of what I just said…”
“No worries there, sir.”
“I’m not worried,” Fletcher snapped. “But I’ll make dammed sure you are if you start repeating rumors.” Using his left hand, Fletcher raised his right fist, setting it back on the desk. He shoved his body closer and glared at Maddox. “I know what you think. I can see it on your face. You’re no different from your uncle, Golden Ural. You think you’re better than us and…”
“Sir?” Maddox asked, stunned at this performance.
Fletcher shook his head, turning away. “Maybe I shouldn’t have raged at you just now. This job eats at a man’s soul. I can’t imagine how Cook lasted for so long.” Fletcher regarded Maddox as he might an exotic insect. “I’m going to be frank, Captain. I’ve studied your file for days, hearing you were coming home. I know you think you’re di-far, some special kind of agent of change. The Spacers did us a disservice putting such nonsense into your head. You do know it’s nonsense, right?”
The Lost Intelligence (Lost Starship Series Book 12) Page 21
