The Lost Star Gate (Lost Starship Series Book 9)

by Vaughn Heppner

  “No,” the professor wheezed.

  “Yes,” Womack hissed, and in that moment, he attempted to use the stone and turn the process against the professor.

  The two struggled for supremacy, using the Builder stone as a battlefield. Mind was pitted against mind. One was old and cunning. The other was young and strong with a belief in himself and his superior people’s destiny.

  It was as if they lay cheek to jowl, their foul breaths fogging over each other’s face. They pitted mind against mind, will against will and energy against energy. Like two giant snakes entwined and tightening one against the other, each trying to choke his foe to death, Ludendorff and Womack mentally warred.

  The Methuselah Man knew more about the stone’s processes, having used it longer. The New Man had fantastic iron will, a desire to win that was almost beyond Ludendorff’s understanding. Womack had grown up in a fiercely competitive society. Winning was all. Losing meant intense shame. In that society, Womack had gained high rank. He was just under Lord Drakos in authority.

  “You ran the deception against me,” Ludendorff said in their mind-to-mind contact.

  “I am the leader. Yes. I made the decisions. I will yet defeat you, old man.”

  “Did Drakos send you to the Bosk homeworld or was that Strand’s order?”

  “Defend yourself,” Womack hissed.

  For a time, Ludendorff did exactly that. He studied the New Man’s tactics and methods, saw how Womack liked to strike suddenly and pile all his strength into the second blow, using the first as a deception.

  “Knowing that won’t help you,” Womack hissed.

  “Perhaps,” Ludendorff said.

  Finally, the New Man’s intense mental assault slackened as Womack assessed what to do next.

  “Was Strand in charge of the operation?” Ludendorff asked.

  “Strand is a prisoner, old man.”

  “I recognize that. Yet, Strand spoke with Drakos on the Throne World. Who uses whom?”

  Womack laughed. “You’re too foolish to know the answer. You’re too old fashioned to recognize true brilliance when you see it.”

  Ludendorff heard Strand in those words, and it made him certain that Methuselah Man Strand had tricked Lord Drakos in some nefarious fashion.

  “But that’s just what I want you to think, old man,” Womack said.

  “Are there more Strand clones around?” Ludendorff asked.

  “Maybe there are Ludendorff clones. Did you ever think of that?”

  Finally, the Methuselah Man struck as the words prodded him into action. If Strand or Lord Drakos had fashioned Ludendorff clones, he would make them suffer for an eternity. He was Ludendorff. He was one, himself. He did not want Ludendorff clones in the world. He would rather have sons and daughters made the old-fashioned way through loving and lying with a woman.

  “You truly are stuck in the past, old man,” Womack said. “I can see your thoughts. You’re pathetic.”

  “I am old indeed,” Ludendorff mentally said, striving now with fierce will. He’d lived for centuries, guiding and helping ungrateful humanity. Once, Strand had been his partner. They had done so much together. Then, a sickness of mind had invaded his brother’s mind.

  “Brother?” Womack asked.

  Ludendorff struck, using all his cunning, all the mastery of the stone gained from the last two times—

  Womack’s defenses fell with bewildering speed. Like a proverbial house of cards blown by the wind, they toppled and fluttered in the mind-to-mind contest.

  Too late, Ludendorff realized that something in Womack’s mind had pricked him into this fierce assault. At the same instant, a hidden control in Womack caused the New Man to utterly drop his mental defenses, exposing himself to annihilation.

  Ludendorff tore apart enemy brain cells and neural connectives. With all his might, the professor reversed course and strove to repair the damage and return the memories as they dribbled from the dying New Man’s mind.

  “I tricked you, old man,” Womack mentally jeered. “You lose yet again.”

  “Someone is using you,” Ludendorff said, desperately trying to keep Womack alive. “Help me against them. Give me a clue as to who wants you dead.”

  “A clue?”

  “You’re almost gone, Tars Womack. Who has used you like this and made you his pawn?”

  A thought began in Womack’s mind, and something controlling in the mind killed the memory even as it began to take shape.

  At that moment, Ludendorff released Womack’s mind, lest he be caught in the death throes and begin a chain reaction process in his own mind. The Builder stone did have a tricky property. It could heighten certain thoughts, amplifying them with dreadful power. Thus, in dying, a dying man’s mind could pull down his linked foe with him, causing the other brain to kill itself in mimicry of the real death.

  “Help,” Ludendorff managed to say.

  It was barely enough, but it was enough. Cool foam hit the Builder stone, and that allowed Ludendorff the advantage he needed to once more make his escape from the ancient marvel.

  -59-

  Maddox paced back and forth, as medics worked to revive the newly dead Tars Womack.

  The New Man’s body jerked at times, his arms flopping. The zapping electrode sounds were hideous…and ineffective. Finally, the chief medical officer stepped back from the body on the table, and shook his head.

  “Dead for good?” asked Maddox.

  “Yes, sir,” the medical officer said.

  Maddox clenched his jaws so the muscles hinging them bulged outward. The captain merely nodded afterward, moving away.

  Why was everyone dying on them?

  “Sir?”

  Maddox whirled around, reaching for his holstered sidearm.

  Galyan dipped his head. “I did it again. I’m sorry, sir. I should have cleared my throat first before just—”

  “What is it?” Maddox said.

  “The professor is groggy, but he’s awake. He’s asking for you.”

  Maddox nodded sharply to indicate he’d heard the words. Then his long legs ate up the distance as he exited the chamber and strode to Ludendorff’s cubicle. Medics had rushed the Methuselah Man there ten minutes ago.

  Ludendorff was sitting up, rubbing the back of his neck. Meta stood nearby, holding a cup of water for him.

  “Thank you,” Ludendorff told her.

  Meta and Maddox exchanged glances as the professor noisily slurped his water.

  “How’s Dana doing?” Maddox asked quietly. He figured that was what Meta wanted him to ask.

  “You’re pushing the professor too hard,” Meta whispered. “Look at him. He’s like death warmed over.”

  Ludendorff did look bad, his face a mass of wrinkles, baggy eyes and sheer exhaustion.

  “How’s Dana?” Maddox whispered again.

  Meta shook her head. “She’s in bad shape. I’ve never—you should let him use the stone on her. Nothing else is going to work.”

  Maddox let his features fall into a blank mask. Maybe Meta was right. Maybe Ludendorff should fix his woman before the stone destroyed the Methuselah Man. But maybe his first idea had been right. If they won, Ludendorff could fix his lover then.

  “That was an interesting experience,” Ludendorff said, as he set the cup down.

  The captain faced the old man.

  “You should rest, Professor,” Meta said.

  “I will, my dear. First, your husband wants his report.”

  “Surely, that can wait,” Meta said.

  Both Meta and Ludendorff looked at Maddox.

  “A quick rundown is all I want,” Maddox said. “Why did Womack die?”

  The professor winced as if someone had punched him in the gut. “That wasn’t by design, well, by my design.”

  “Meaning?” asked Maddox.

  With halting words, Ludendorff told them what had happened during the mental connection, how Womack or something in Womack had tricked him. The New Men had wanted to d
ie at the end to conceal something.

  Maddox was nodding before the Methuselah Man had finished speaking. “Then we’re right back where we started, knowing nothing.”

  “I don’t agree with that,” Ludendorff said.

  Maddox waited for the professor to expound on the idea.

  “Right there at the end, I saw our nemesis, a memory picture,” Ludendorff said. “He was tall for a man, but short for a New Man, and his skin tone wasn’t as golden as it could be.”

  “Lord Drakos?” asked Maddox.

  “None other, my boy, it was the Devil himself.”

  “Does that tell us if Drakos issued the orders or if Strand is using Drakos to issue the orders?”

  “Through Womack’s memories, I saw some of the operations on the Bosk homeworld and on the Tau Ceti station. I witnessed…hmm, certain crudities of approach that Strand would never have ordered or tolerated.”

  “That tells us nothing,” Maddox said. “Drakos simply could have made mistakes in the translation of Strand’s orders.”

  “No, you’re wrong, as the crudities concerned the Draegar and me. Womack oversaw much of the process. He…seemed to fumble at times, which confused the Draegar. If Strand had given commands regarding the Draegar and me, he would have been quite precise. Rather, I saw an operation being run by a man who had half knowledge and was smart enough to guess many of the other components but not all of them.”

  “Meaning what?” asked Maddox. “You’re just saying what I did, but in a different way.”

  “No. I most certainly am not. Perhaps you can’t understand the differences. They’re subtle. Strand would have insisted Drakos get key matters correct, as he would know their importance. But if Drakos had pried information from Strand, the New Man would undoubtedly miss a few key factors because the Methuselah Man would do everything in his power to hold something critical back to screw the man screwing him. How Drakos achieved this prying, I do not know. From Womack’s memories, I received the impression of a man trying to revive a system he only half-understood. If you think about it,” Ludendorff added, “it makes better sense considering what we’ve been seeing.”

  “For instance?” asked Maddox, still dubious about the professor’s point.

  “Why didn’t Womack or the Draegar attempt to use the Builder stone when it was theoretically in their possession?”

  “When they ran the Star Watch flotilla through you, you mean?”

  “Exactly,” Ludendorff said. “Why not have me take the Builder object from the Moltke and bring it to the Bernard Shaw?”

  “They had you ask for the stone. That’s why O’Hara talked the Lord High Admiral into releasing the artifact into her custody.”

  “True,” Ludendorff said, “but that proves my point. They didn’t know why they asked for it. They had learned they needed the object, but not the deep reason for it.”

  Maddox finally nodded. Maybe the professor was onto something. “Let’s run with this,” the captain said. “Tell me why they went to such lengths to try to capture Victory.”

  “I have a theory, no more.”

  Maddox waited for it.

  “I’m beginning to believe that they combined two or even three planned future missions into one,” Ludendorff said. “This fits with my idea that Drakos stole or forced the information from Strand. The Methuselah Man revealed his greater strategy. But instead of Drakos seeing that Strand had a step-by-step plan, that there were distinct stages that needed to be achieved before they tried more, Drakos attempted to do everything in one giant mission. For instance, I suspect Strand did not desire or need Victory to attempt Swarm nexus destruction. He had the Q-ships for that. Strand’s plan for you, Victory and the brigadier would be to help him infiltrate his agents into Star Watch.”

  Meta, who had been listening, laughed with disbelief. “I get it. Lord Drakos and his people shouldn’t have bothered with us—with Victory and Maddox—but should have already attempted to destroy the Swarm nexuses.”

  “Exactly,” Ludendorff said. “That’s what Strand would have done if he had been in charge. The Q-ships, the Builder item and I would have been enough to try stopping more immediate Swarm invasions.”

  “So the others—Lord Drakos and Womack—made a mistake in forcing his people to try to capture Victory now,” Meta said.

  “Clearly,” Ludendorff said, as he glanced at Maddox. “Lord Drakos attempted to do too much in too short of a time. From the little I know of the man, that fits his pattern. He often acts rashly or too soon. There is another thing. It is in the nature of a New Man to attack too hard rather than to wait too long. I have long argued with Strand that that was our greatest mistake concerning the New Men. We put a spur in their genetic makeup. They are all amped up and jumpy, wanting to move and act rather than contemplate a situation.”

  Maddox nodded absently, not noticing Meta examining him carefully. She opened her mouth, likely to make another comment.

  Ludendorff noticed her and gently cleared his throat.

  Meta glanced at the professor. He barely shook his head. Her eyebrows rose. He shook his head again. Meta closed her mouth.

  Would that comment have been about how Maddox seemed to have a spur in his makeup, prodding him to act, sometimes before thinking things through?

  Maddox inhaled, looking at the professor. “So now we know that Lord Drakos is behind the Draegar and the—”

  “Just a minute,” Ludendorff said. “That’s not what I said. Lord Drakos took control of the operation. Strand still conceived it. Like many great ideas, if the genius that made the plan no longer runs it, it likely no longer runs in the way it was meant to.”

  “That sounds convoluted,” Meta said.

  “Yes,” Ludendorff said.

  “Fine,” Maddox said, as he considered the implications. “Ah. If Throne World New Men are at the local nexus, we can tell them about the co-opted Strand Operation and implicate Lord Drakos.”

  “Maybe,” Ludendorff said.

  “We’ll trade them the information for access to the local nexus,” Maddox said.

  “And if Drakos’ people are at the local nexus in strength?” Ludendorff asked.

  “If they’re there in strength…” Maddox said. “We’ll have to retreat, as I doubt I can use the same antimatter-loaded Q-ship trick twice.”

  “Our main problem still remains,” Ludendorff said. “We don’t know what’s waiting for us at the local nexus.”

  “Don’t kick yourself, Professor,” the captain said. “We’ve learned that Strand is still a Throne World captive. If we succeed in our greater mission, it will be much easier to rid ourselves of Lord Drakos than it would be to rid ourselves yet again of Strand.”

  “That’s an excellent point, my boy. Yes. We’re farther along than we were before mind-probing Tars Womack.”

  “Without a doubt,” the captain said.

  “And we know one other thing,” Ludendorff said.

  Maddox waited for it.

  Ludendorff looked at him intently. “I need to use the stone to heal Dana’s mind.”

  Before Maddox could comment, he heard Meta step up behind him. She clutched his right triceps, squeezing. He understood this signal. What was the right choice? Would Ludendorff fight harder for humanity if his woman were healed? Of course, he would.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Maddox told the professor. “But first, you need to rest. Afterward…yes. We need Dana. We need everyone if we’re going to stop the Swarm invasions.”

  Meta squeezed his triceps a last time, her way of saying thank you.

  The wide smile on Ludendorff’s face confirmed Maddox’s decision. If they could use the local nexus, they were heading into the Deep Beyond. More than anything else, they would need high morale to fight the awful pressures awaiting them.

  They barely made it back from the Deep Beyond last time. This time it would probably be even worse.

  -60-

  Many hundreds of light-years away in the Nerva Hauler
Sulla 7, Mako 21 awoke from a long, deathlike sleep.

  She rubbed her aching head, unable to assess her surroundings because it was pitch black in here. Her mouth felt dry, her body drained, from ordeals she could not remember.

  What had the Visionary been doing to her? Why couldn’t she remember?

  Mako looked around in the blackness, but she could tell nothing. No…that wasn’t exactly right. She felt the thrum of the mighty hauler. That was important somehow… Yes. They were racing to a critical place, but she couldn’t remember how she knew that.

  Mako refrained from trying to get up because she didn’t know if it was safe to move in here.

  With pursed lips, she rethought that. She was a Surveyor First-Class. No! She was even more than that. She refused to let fear dictate her actions.

  She attempted to swing her legs off the bed. That failed miserably, however, as her legs would not budge. Mako was determined to know why, and attempted to sit up. That did not happen, either. She tried to move an arm, but found that straps held the arm down. She tried the other arm. It had also been tightly secured by straps.

  I’m trapped, Mako realized.

  Yet…she’d rubbed her head earlier. How could her arms be trapped now?

  In the darkness, Mako frowned. It was time to discover the causes to her problems. First, her head ached because…because…ah. She knew. Her head ached because she’d been inside the Educator many times. This last time had been the longest.

  The Educator had taught her many things while she’d slept in its belly. The Educator was a Spacer invention, and acolytes had slid her into the center of the huge machine like an old-fashioned CAT scanner. Normally, the Educator was reserved for language lessons. She had learned…otherwise, as the Educator had been dialed to its highest setting.

  Mako felt a little better because she knew why her head ached and why she’d been in darkness. The Educator worked best in the dark as it massaged the mind with electronic impulses.

  Why did her body ache, though? What was the cause of that?