The Lost Intelligence (Lost Starship Series Book 12)

by Vaughn Heppner

  “This is wonderful,” Ludendorff shouted over his link. “I feel like a demigod. Die, you Jarnevon scum!”

  Maddox’s lips were pulled back in a vicious snarl. He hammered the alien monsters, making sure nothing survived the slaughter.

  They had to reload, and continued firing. Eventually, a smoking pall drifted over the massed alien cyber parts littered throughout the central cavern.

  “We make sure,” Maddox said.

  “Agreed,” Ludendorff said.

  The two waded among the blasted Liss cybers, firing into anything that moved and stomping on the remaining pieces.

  They saw strange equipment in back, huge conveyers, deep vats and assembly machines.

  “Those cannot remain,” Ludendorff said.

  Maddox and Ludendorff clanked there, setting bombs to destroy the machines that had been creating the Liss cyber obscenities. Then, they headed back the way they had come. It was time to pick up Meta and see if Riker still lived.

  While halfway back to Meta, heavy detonations shook the cavern and tunnel. When the explosions died down, one battlesuit turned to the other.

  “Thank you for that,” Ludendorff said. “You have no idea what it meant to me.”

  “It was my pleasure, Professor.”

  “At last, I’m the hero.”

  Maddox laughed. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

  -18-

  Between the Earth and the Moon on Battleship Alexander, in the ready room, Josef Becker began to stir. He felt like crap, his head hurting and his mouth tasting foul. The last he remembered—

  “The Prime Saa,” he whispered. Becker groaned as he sat up. The Prime Saa had seen through his deceptions. Now, after finishing Maddox and…

  Becker cocked his head. He sensed something, the reason he’d stirred. It had been a primordial scream of pain and sorrow. The scream had been on the ethereal plane, though. It had been—

  Becker’s eyes widened with disbelief. He’d been dreaming, and he’d dreamed of two Space Marines in the Moon Cavern of the Liss. They’d destroyed the massed creatures from Jarnevon. They’d slain the Prime Saa, the mass-mind-meld of the Liss cybers.

  “It’s over,” Becker whispered. At least, the dire threat against him was over. He laughed. He laughed again, loudly. The threat against his life was gone. Wait a minute. There were still plenty of threats. If two Space Marines had slain the Prime Saa—

  “Captain Maddox,” Becker said. “The di-far had done it again. That meant Maddox and his cohort would likely hunt him down.

  Becker staggered to the captain’s desk in the Alexander’s ready room. He sat in the seat. What was the correct course of action now? Lord High Admiral Fletcher was dead. Director Akon Chom of Political Intelligence was dead. He ought to know, as he’d slain them both. The Master Plan of the Prime Saa could not survive the death of the massed Liss cybers.

  Becker massaged his big head. He was a ball-less freak, literally, although he could dominate others. His days as a Political Intelligence captain were likely nearing its end. He would have to kill plenty of people to cover all his tracks. Maddox would find him, though.

  Becker didn’t doubt his dream. He could feel the Prime Saa’s absence. He needed to get his crap together if he was going to survive the aftermath. What did he have in way of options?

  Becker frowned at the desk. There were other Liss cybers at various locations. Maybe he could gather them, and they could try this again, but with a few safeguards in place for him. Maybe instead of the Prime Saa running him, he could run the Prime Saa. He’d grown in mental strength. Maybe all the things the Prime Saa had attempted, he—Becker—could learn to do on his own. It was a matter of learning, studying and practicing. This didn’t have to be over. He was sure he could sense the nearness of a Liss cyber on Earth. It had a certain feel in the air.

  Okay, okay, this is coming together.

  Here was the thing. Could he do this better running the Alexander? Or would it be wiser to try to sneak around? The Alexander had firepower, but as the newest type of Star Watch battleship, it was too noticeable. Sneaking around meant that he should be on his own.

  Here was the question. Would Maddox survive the Moon caverns? Maybe he should take the Alexander to the Moon and slay Maddox and company as they tried to leave.

  Becker straightened. Killing Maddox and his friends seemed like the safest, wisest course. Otherwise, his best bet would be to go to ground and try to find a few Liss cybers. A few of them could give him great predictive powers. It seemed as if here at the end, hubris had shaken the Prime Saa’s ability to predict correctly.

  It was weird that such a human characteristic should influence a massed alien monster. Maybe hubris wasn’t a human trait, but a universal quality. What did that say about the fundamental patterns of the universe?

  Becker shrugged. He wasn’t a philosopher. He still planned to become the Master of the Universe.

  He tapped the desk. He had to make the right choice. Grab for the gusto now with the Alexander as his base, or go to ground and build back up later.

  Making his choice, Becker clicked an intercom button. “Captain Henderson, would you come to the ready room, please? There’s something I wish to discuss with you.”

  -19-

  Deep underground in a Moon cavern, Maddox watched his HUD sensor. “Someone’s coming,” he said.

  “Darling, are you there?” a woman asked over the short-link.

  “Meta,” Maddox said with relief. “You’re okay?”

  “I am,” she said. “Riker’s with me. He rebooted my battlesuit. We’re coming to you.”

  “Roger,” Maddox said.

  The captain released Ludendorff’s battlesuit. He’d been helping the professor again, as the old man had a limp.

  Soon, two new battlesuits clanked to Maddox and Ludendorff. One of the approaching suits had leaking fluids and a smoking chest-plate.

  “Sergeant, what happened?” Maddox asked.

  Riker’s short-link crackled as he spoke, telling about his decision to get on the other side of the heavy gravitational belt. He’d barely made it when fifty-plus Bosks in spacesuits and low one-man attack-cars had appeared. Not all the enemy had come down the stone steps—the attack-cars proved that. Anyway, Riker waited until the force negotiated the grav-belt. He started firing at them, using grenades and shells. Luckily, two of the one-man vehicles had exploded spectacularly with detonations raining hot plasma on the others.

  “I didn’t escape unhurt from the explosions, though,” Riker said. “My suit isn’t going to last much longer, sir.”

  “Are more Bosks gathering in that direction?” Maddox asked.

  “The attack-cars crossed the grav-belt, not the foot soldiers,” Riker said. “I don’t think my suit will make it back over the belt.”

  “We have to get out another way then,” Maddox said. “Any suggestions, Professor?”

  “I should have thought of it sooner,” Ludendorff said. “There must have been another way or source for bringing down the Jarnevon machines. I suggest we inspect the rear of the central cavern.”

  “Where our bombs went off?” asked Maddox.

  “Unfortunately, we may have destroyed that route,” Ludendorff said. “But if we wish to save the sergeant, I suggest we try.”

  “Right,” Maddox said. “Let’s do it. Meta, you continue helping Riker. I’ll help the professor.”

  Soon enough, they reached the central cavern, and the four battlesuits waded through the alien mess.

  “This is disgusting,” Meta said, as Liss goop stuck to her boots.

  “It’s good for my heart to see this,” Riker said. “Good to see these bastards are dead.”

  “Not all, certainly,” Ludendorff said. “Recall the data we found. A Liss cyber machine in Montana, likely one or more in East Antarctica and one attacked Galyan in the Tau Ceti System aboard the Lolis II.”

  “Scattered Liss cybers,” Maddox said. “Hunting them down will be part of the cleanup. We
’ll have to hunt them on Jarnevon, too.”

  “We must ensure that none of the Liss cyber machines survives and regrows elsewhere,” Ludendorff said.

  “Maybe the task will help reunite Star Watch,” Maddox said.

  “First, we four must survive to get the process in motion,” Ludendorff said.

  Their helmet beams washed along the rear cavern walls. There were blast marks, cave-ins—

  “I see something,” Meta said. “It could be a door.”

  The battlesuits waded through massed pieces of junk, reaching what was a vast buckled reinforced titanium door. By degrees, they pried the door open enough for each battlesuit to slip through to the other side.

  “Titanium bulkheads,” Riker said, his beam washing over a giant titanium corridor.

  “We should have come down this way,” Maddox said.

  “Perhaps this way is better guarded upstairs,” Ludendorff said.

  They clanked down the corridor, reaching a heavy lift or elevator.

  “Decision time,” Ludendorff said.

  “It’s already been made,” Maddox said, who entered the elevator. “We go up, kill whoever we need to and find a way off the Moon. Until we know otherwise, we’re going to assume everyone is still out to kill us.”

  “Winning and staying alive are two different things,” Ludendorff said. His battlesuit shrugged. “I like your plan.” He clanked into the elevator. “Is everyone else coming?”

  Riker and Meta joined them. After some fiddling, Maddox gave up and allowed Ludendorff to study the controls. Three minutes later, the elevator doors closed, and the lift began heading up.

  -20-

  On the bridge of Battleship Alexander, Becker slumped exhausted on the captain’s chair. He’d just finished dominating the entire bridge crew and could use another nap, maybe a full night’s rest. Before he did any of that, though…

  “You know your orders,” he told them. “Henderson, you’re in charge until I return.”

  “Yes, Supremacy,” blocky Captain Henderson said.

  “Give me a hand up,” Becker added.

  The others watched as Henderson extended a thick hand, gently helping Becker onto his feet.

  “I’ll be in the ready room,” Becker said. “You do you have a cot in there, yes?”

  “Yes, Supremacy,” Henderson said.

  “Remember, who can come onto the bridge?”

  “No one,” the bridge crew and captain said in unison.

  Becker smiled wearily. “Make sure you follow my orders to the letter. I’m an exacting leader. I don’t want any mistakes. You know the drill. Now, do it while I recoup.”

  With that, Becker stumbled to the ready room. He needed to be alert for the next step in the operation. If he acted quickly enough, he might be able to take a fleet with him. First, he had to eliminate Maddox and the others. Then, he would need to see Brigadier Stokes dead, and any of the other old-school commanding officers in Star Watch. Akon Chom and his people had a kill list. He’d have to get it and use it himself. Until then…

  Becker set down the cot. Damn, but he was tired. Dominating so many people in such a short time was draining. He set an alarm on the desk.

  By the time the Alexander was in position for firing, he would be awake. He wanted to be in on Maddox’s death for several reasons, the chief being to make sure that none of his puppets made a stupid mistake.

  ***

  Lunar Command was in disarray. They had direct Nostradamus orders to destroy Victory. The starship was gone and the mass of strikefighters either eliminated or their pilots sick from radiation poisoning. The Moon silos had missiles but nothing to target. The long-range cannons were quiet for the same reason.

  The Lord High Admiral did not speak to give them new instructions. Nostradamus had fallen strangely and disquietingly silent. A few Bosks strike teams hunted deep in the Moon caverns for who knew what, but those teams weren’t under direct Lunar Command.

  Thus, Lunar Command waited and waited, sending messages to Geneva requesting approval for Battleship Alexander to be heading to the dark side of the Moon. Earth Command in Colorado no longer had direct authority over what happened out here. The dark side of the Moon had become forbidden territory to most, at least in close orbit. Yet, Captain Henderson ignored every injunction, saying he was coming to ensure Nostradamus’s safety.

  The officers of Lunar Command kept glancing at each other. Wouldn’t someone with the proper authority tell them what to do? This was a terrible mess. None of them wanted to disappoint Nostradamus, and none of them wanted to end up before a court martial board.

  Thankfully, one of the cargo shuttles with special, high security clearance lifted off from the most sacred hangar bay on the Moon and entered a black ops hauler.

  The chief of the Lunar Command officers, Commodore Serena Torres, turned to the others in the chamber. “If anyone knows what’s going on, it will be a special cargo hauler captain leaving the sacred hangar bay. The ship commander must have Nostradamus authority.”

  The others nodded in agreement.

  “I’ll call myself,” Commodore Torres said, a short dark-haired woman with staring eyes. “Then, we’ll know what to do.”

  -21-

  Maddox nearly answered Commodore Torres directly.

  Meta, Riker, Ludendorff and the captain had ridden the elevator up a long way into a large hangar bay with several parked cargo shuttles. First, setting time-activated bombs against various crates, they’d piled into a shuttle and had taken it outside to a waiting Class-3 hauler, just like the Lolis II they’d seen in the Tau Ceti System.

  Space-suited Bosks had met them inside the hauler. Without hesitation, Ludendorff in his battlesuit had fired and slain the first batch. Maddox took the second group captive, using them to rush the bridge.

  After they gained control of the vessel, Ludendorff came out of the battlesuit, limping to a med station. He found a brace to help with his muscle strain. A quick examination had shown it wasn’t a tear, as the professor had believed earlier.

  Now, the black ops hauler began leaving on a course that would take them around the dark side of the Moon as they headed for Earth. As they did so, Lunar Command hailed them.

  “Use that,” Ludendorff told the captain. The professor pointed at a senso mask. That was normal procedure for a black ops vessel.

  “Yes, good idea,” Maddox said. The captain set and activated the mask, putting it on. The mask would hide his all-too familiar features and alter his voice.

  After that, Commodore Torres appeared on the comm screen.

  “Why are you using this channel?” Maddox demanded.

  The commodore stammered out her reasons, pleading for instructions. Surely, he’d just spoken to a direct operative of Nostradamus.

  “You are correct in your assumption,” Maddox said. “Yes, Nostradamus will be pleased with your actions.”

  “Do you really think so?” Torres asked with obvious relief.

  “I would not have said it otherwise,” Maddox told her. “Send out rescue shuttles for the stranded strikefighter pilots. That is paramount. Recall the strike cruisers. Power-down the surface cannons and reseal the silos. The battle is over.”

  “Those are Nostradamus’s orders?” Torres asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t he tell us directly?”

  “You are wise to ask,” Maddox said in his senso-mask altered voice. “I will report to Nostradamus concerning your diligence. He is presently involved in a secret…are you rated for ultra-Nostradamus secrets?”

  “I’ve never heard of that,” Torres said uneasily.

  “Then, clearly you are not. I cannot therefore give you further information on that score.”

  “I understand,” Torres said.

  “Are there any other problems?”

  “A last one,” the commodore said. “It regards Battleship Alexander.”

  “Yes?” Maddox asked.

  “It is heading for the dark si
de of the Moon. My instructions are to destroy any vessel attempting such an unauthorized near route. Do those orders still hold?”

  “Not for the Alexander,” Maddox said. “Nostradamus has a secret order for the captain. You will immediately patch me through to the ship.”

  Commodore Torres swallowed uneasily. “I have standing orders—”

  “Must I spell it out for you, Commodore?” asked Maddox. “Nostradamus has a secret mission for the Alexander.”

  “Why wouldn’t he have informed us then?”

  “Do you question Nostradamus?”

  “No, certainly not,” the commodore said hastily. “It’s just… are you sure this is authorized?”

  “The battle has mandated this action,” Maddox said.

  “…Yes,” the commodore said. “I can understand that. I’m so glad I hailed your ship.”

  “I as well,” Maddox said. “As I said earlier, I will report your diligence to Nostradamus. You can console yourself that he will take note of your zealous behavior. Now, patch me through immediately to the Alexander. It is imperative that you do.”

  “At once, sir,” the commodore said.

  Maddox clicked a switch, putting her on mute.

  “What are you thinking?” Ludendorff asked.

  “To brazen it through,” Maddox said with a shrug. “We have to get word to Stokes about what occurred here. Commodore Torres shows that with Nostradamus dead, there’s a power vacuum. The first person to fill such a vacuum usually has an easier time winning.”

  “Fletcher still leads Star Watch,” Ludendorff said.

  “Does he?” asked Maddox. “My instincts tell me he doesn’t. More has happened than we know. We have to find out what so we can survive first and help our side make the right plan second. Now, no more talking. The connection is coming through.”

  Maddox clicked off the mute button.

  On the hauler’s comm screen, blunt Captain Henderson appeared.

  “Who is this?” Henderson snapped. “Who am I talking to?”

  “What are you doing heading for the dark side of the Moon?” Maddox demanded. He still wore the senso-mask. “Such action is forbidden.”