“Riker will be glad to hear that,” Meta said dryly.
“Sir,” the shuttle pilot said over a wall-speaker. “We’re preparing to land in Hangar Bay “C”.”
“Thank you,” Maddox said.
Ludendorff stared up at the shuttle ceiling as if he was thinking about something else.
“Keep talking,” Maddox said. “I want to hear the rest. Use every second we have.”
“Right,” Ludendorff said. “You’re going to want to hear the next part.”
-71-
“I understand the first point,” Maddox said while hurrying through a starship corridor. “Now give me the second important point.”
Ludendorff jogged to keep up with the captain’s long stride. “I can’t talk if I have to run like this,” the professor said, panting.
The captain slowed his normal stride, pacing himself so Ludendorff did not have to run to keep up.
“Better,” the professor said. He dragged a wrist before his mouth. “I need something to drink. I’m thirstier than you can believe.”
“Talk,” Maddox said, “or I’m sprinting to the bridge, and you can tell me this later.”
“No, no, I’d better tell you now. First, the Imperium isn’t monolithic. Second—I’ve already told you the second part. Some parts of the Imperium are quite backward compared to others. The Perseus Arm Imperium lacks Laumer Point technology and star-drive tech. As far as the nexuses have reported, none of the Queen’s Imperial warships have crossed over to the Perseus Spiral Arm. There are intricate genetic reasons for what I’ve been saying. The Perseus Arm Swarm is distinct from the rest. I can’t remember this moment why that’s so. The reasons go back centuries. The point is that the Perseus Arm Swarm might actually fight the rest of the Imperium.”
“The nexuses told you all that?” Maddox asked.
“Not told, but data was given to me from the local nexus. The computer core running our nexus—well, normally it’s dormant. The AI is waiting for further instructions from genuine Builders. There was only the one living Builder in the Orion Arm, remember?”
Maddox nodded. He remembered the Dyson Sphere Builder all too well. “So we don’t have to worry about Perseus Arm nexuses for a time?” the captain said.
“Precisely,” Ludendorff said, who had started puffing despite the slower pace. “Now, there was the Golden Nexus, the Deneb nexus, the Gamma 9-74 nexus and the Alpha Kappa 3 nexus that the last star cruisers reached. The Deneb, Gamma 9-74 and Alpha Kappa 3 nexuses are all gone, by the way. The New Men destroyed them.”
“That’s just four nexuses. There are two—were two in Human Space before the Xerxes nexus blew up, which clearly has a much smaller area than three spiral arms.”
“You’re making false assumptions,” the professor panted. “First, we’re not talking about entire spiral arms. We’re talking about nexuses in a five thousand light-year range of Human Space plus the near Beyond. Given that Human Space is tiny compared to the larger Imperium, it means that only a small part of the Imperium is near Human Space.”
Maddox frowned at the professor. “That’s convoluted.”
“That’s why you must pay attention, my boy. I’m trying to make this as easy as possible for you to understand. Remember, my brainpower soared less than an hour ago. I have concepts and ideas impossible for you to grasp with your limited intellect.”
Maddox turned away as fast as he could lest the professor see him smile. Clearly, the Methuselah Man hadn’t liked the reprimand a second ago.
“Sir,” Valerie said over a loudspeaker. “A hyper-spatial tube is beginning to appear. The power levels emanating from the nexus are incredible.”
Maddox felt his gut clench. “This is it,” he said over his shoulder. “Is there any last minute warning you need to give me?”
“We’re heading to a key nexus,” Ludendorff said in a rush. “Not counting Perseus Arm nexuses, there are or were seven Swarm-territory pyramids in the regions closest to Human Space. Four are gone; three are left. Of those three, this is the most important, as the others are almost out of range for safe travel. There are three more nexuses beyond that that might prove to be a problem, if the Swarm accepts impossible risks—”
“Professor,” Maddox said. “Spit it out in three seconds. I’m leaving you behind because it’s time to leave this system, and I want to be on the bridge when we do it.”
“There are Swarm warships near the Omega Nebula nexus. You must be ready for evasive maneuvers the instant we appear.”
“There’s always some Jump Lag when we use a hyper-spatial tube,” Maddox said.
“Find a way to avoid the lag. It’s imperative that you think of something.”
Maddox cursed softly. Then, he nodded and broke into a sprint, leaving the professor behind as he raced for the bridge.
-72-
Maddox reached the bridge at a dead run, sprinting through the opening hatch. He barely slowed down in time, passing his command chair, coming to a halt before the main screen.
It showed a giant silvery whirlpool. It was bigger than any hyper-spatial whirlpool he’d seen before.
“I can’t believe the power radiating from the nexus,” Valerie said as she vacated the captain’s chair. “Look, the pyramid is glowing.”
Maddox did look, and the silver structure glowed with increasing pulses of power.
“I’m recording the process,” Andros Crank, the Kai-Kaus Chief Technician, said from his board. “Maybe we can use the data to help us make our own hyper-spatial tubes someday.
“Good thinking,” Maddox said automatically. He backed up until he sat down in the command chair. “Is the whirlpool drawing us toward it?” Maddox asked the pilot.
“Yes, sir,” said the pilot, who had grown pale.
“Where’s Lieutenant Maker?” Maddox asked.
“He’s still in the hangar bay where he landed his shuttle,” Valerie said.
“Tell him to get up here on the double,” Maddox said.
Lieutenant Noonan nodded as she sat down at her board.
“Golden Ural’s star cruisers are heading away from us,” Andros said. “They must not like what they’re seeing.”
“Is the nexus going to explode?” Maddox asked.
“The power pouring from it is…” Andros shook his head. “It’s crazy, to use a precise technical term.”
“Understood,” Maddox said. “But is it going to explode?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“That better not be true,” Maddox said, “or I’m getting a new chief technician.”
“In that case,” Andros said, as he studied his board, “I don’t see any indications of overload. But the truth is, I don’t understand what I’m seeing.”
Maddox chewed on his lower lip. “Galyan.” He looked around. “Where’s Galyan?”
“Here, sir,” the holoimage said, popping into view beside him.
“What were you doing?” Maddox asked.
“Speaking with the professor,” Galyan said.
“Concerning?” asked Maddox.
“He has a suggestion for you, sir. Would you like to hear it?”
Maddox nodded.
“Use an antimatter missile instead of a thermonuclear explosive,” Galyan said.
Maddox stared at the holoimage.
“That’s standard operating procedure before going through a hostile Laumer Point,” Valerie explained.
“Right,” Maddox said, getting it. In the old days when jump gates were the only form of FTL travel, a ship or fleet risked enemy annihilation when using a Laumer Point to enter hostile territory. Jump Lag had been extreme then. A crew exiting a Laumer Point was defenseless against an immediate enemy assault. Thus, a nuclear warhead set with a spring-driven timer went through first, detonating on the other side, hammering any nearby, waiting enemy warships. Shortly thereafter, the ship or fleet came through, using the cleared area to recover from Jump Lag.
“Launch an antimatter missile
at the whirlpool,” Maddox said.
“In order for the warhead to be effective…” Valerie said.
“Belay that order,” Maddox said. “Lieutenant,” he told Valerie, “have someone attach an old-style timer to the missile. Tell me when the altered missile is ready to launch.”
“Yes, sir,” Valerie said, as she manipulated her board.
“I will,” Galyan said.
“What’s that?” Maddox asked, turning to the holoimage.
“Oh,” Galyan said. “I am still in communication with the professor. He told me to tell you that we do not have much time. The hyper-spatial tube is highly unstable. The sooner we enter, the more likely we will exit in one piece. The longer we wait—”
“I understand,” Maddox said, cutting Galyan off. The captain bent his head in thought. If Ludendorff said this was an unstable hyper-spatial tube—
“Lieutenant Noonan,” Maddox said. “Launch the antimatter missile at once. That means you can forget about the mechanical timer. Set it to detonate the moment it exits the tube.”
“The missile and warhead will experience what will seem like Jump Lag,” Valerie explained.
“I’m aware of that,” Maddox said. “But we don’t have the luxury of time. Launch the missile now.”
Valerie nodded, turning to her board.
The seconds ticked away as the nexus glowed even more dramatically than before.
“The star cruisers are accelerating,” Andros said. “They’re really running from this thing.”
Maddox checked a chronometer and looked meaningfully at Valerie. It was 74 seconds since he’d given the missile launch order.
“The missile is almost ready,” Valerie said.
Maddox refrained from speaking as eleven more seconds passed.
“Ready,” Valerie said. “The antimatter missile is launching.”
On the main screen, the huge missile left its bay, accelerating toward the swirling whirlpool.
“What if it Jump Lags too much?” Galyan asked. “And detonates just as we arrive on the other end?”
“We have to time this right,” Maddox said. “It’s as simple as that.”
The whirlpool pulled and the missile pushed, and in seconds, it zipped into the hyper-spatial tube, disappearing from view and sensors.
“Sir,” Galyan said. “The professor suggests we leave the system now. He says that—”
“Galyan,” Maddox said. “Inform the professor that I run my ship my way. He will refrain from giving me further advice on the hyper-spatial tube.”
“Yes, sir,” the holoimage said.
More seconds passed.
“Sir,” Galyan said. “The professor would like me to inform you that—”
“Stow it,” Maddox said, interrupting. “I’m not interested. That’s an order.”
The little Adok holoimage nodded, falling silent.
“The whirlpool is swirling faster,” Andros said. “That is increasing the pull on our ship.”
Maddox observed the increased speed on the screen as the whirlpool grew larger and larger as they neared it.
“We’ll enter the whirlpool in thirty-four seconds,” the pilot said in a quavering voice.
Maddox could feel everyone watching him, waiting for his next command. What would the antimatter missile do? It was rigged to resist normal Jump Lag. Was that enough against the incredible leap of five thousand light-years? How much was enough margin for error? The missile would lag a little. If it lagged too much, it could well detonate as they appeared. Wasn’t there anything he could do to help increase their odds for survival? Ah.
“Lieutenant Noonan,” Maddox said.
“Sir?”
“Start praying.”
Valerie didn’t answer; she bowed her head and began to audibly ask God for a safe hyper-spatial tube voyage. “Amen,” she finished, looking up.
“Ten seconds until we enter the tube,” the pilot said.
“Ten seconds,” Maddox said. “Let’s hope God heard our lieutenant, because here we go.”
-73-
Victory entered the hyper-spatial tube. While in the non-Einsteinian tube, the starship flashed from the middle-Beyond near the Throne World System. There was no recognition of the passage of time and space while in the tube. No stars were visible to any person or any sensor. The hyper-spatial tube was its own space with its own bizarre rules that did not align with normal physics.
One thousand light-years, two thousand light-years, three thousand—the starship zoomed across vast distances while in the strange tube realm. Finally, five thousand one hundred and seven light-years from the origin point, Starship Victory exited the humming, badly vibrating hyper-spatial tube to vomit out into the Omega M17…region.
The tiny mote of ancient Adok technology had successfully made the fantastic voyage. Now, could they survive this far out in the Deep Beyond to complete their mission?
***
Maddox was the first to raise his head as he shook off the exhaustion or the Jump Lag of an interstellar, hyper-spatial tube voyage. His first attempt to stand failed as he collapsed back into his chair.
The captain panted, collecting himself. He grunted as he stood, staggering toward Valerie.
The lieutenant was slumped against her panel, unmoving at the moment.
Gently, Maddox eased her aside as he began studying the readings on her board.
Victory was in the Omega Nebula. The interstellar matter making up the nebula was approximately 15 light-years in diameter and had a mass of 800 solar masses. Thirty-five hot young stars that formed an open cluster illuminated the gases and debris of the nebula. The captain had no idea how many planets and asteroids were hidden in here. Not that he was interested.
He wanted to know what had happened to the antimatter missile—ah. He found a heavy concentration of radiation. The warhead had detonated. What he couldn’t find was any sign of Swarm warships. Ludendorff had told him the system…
Maddox straightened. This wasn’t a star system. This was a nebula. There was ambient light from nearby stars, but he couldn’t “see” any particular star because thicker than normal gases and debris hid it. Nor could he find any nearby—any—Swarm warships.
Maddox closed his eyes in frustration. Had Ludendorff deliberately lied to them? Or did the fool of a Methuselah Man not know what he’d been talking about? Ludendorff could sound so convincing, and Maddox realized he wanted to believe the professor.
Was there even a nexus out here?
With a rapidly beating heart and an inability to breathe right now, Maddox began to scan the nebula. He did not find any nexus. But then, it was difficult to scan very far with all the debris around the ship. The gases and debris, including dust, were worse than the worst parts of the Tau Ceti System.
Calm down, Maddox told himself, finally taking a breath. They’d successfully traveled over five thousand light-years. The unstable hyper-spatial tube had held long enough to allow them to reach out here. That much was right. This was the Omega Nebula—
What was this?
Maddox hunched over the board as Valerie dragged herself upright. The lieutenant blinked at him as he adjusted her panel.
“What are you doing using my board?” Valerie asked sluggishly.
“Scanning,” he said.
“I can see that,” she said querulously. “Why are you—oh? We’re alive. We made it. Did the antimatter—?”
“The warhead detonated and we’re alive,” Maddox said.
“Did the Swarm warships—?
“There are none out there,” he said.
Valerie blinked at him, and a little more liveliness entered her bearing. “Oh no,” she said. “Did—?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I’m checking.”
As the captain continued to check, the bridge personnel began to stir around him. More of the ship’s functions also began to work.
“Why not let me do that?” Valerie said.
Maddox forced himself away f
rom the panel.
Valerie slid into position. “What are you looking for?” she asked.
“A nexus,” Maddox said softly.
Valerie looked up at him sharply. “If there’s no nexus out here—”
“Yes,” Maddox said. “Now you know why I was using your board.”
Valerie nodded as she rubbed her lips with the back of her right hand. Then she hunched over the panel and began searching in earnest.
“Sir,” Andros said. “I’m not detecting any Swarm warships or the debris of Swarm warships.”
“Keep checking,” Maddox said, as he settled into his command chair.
Galyan moved then. The holoimage had been motionless until that point as he’d stood rigidly beside the captain’s chair.
“Galyan,” Maddox said under his breath.
The Adok holoimage looked at him.
“Find Ludendorff,” Maddox whispered. “Tell him we did not reach a star system, but a nebula. There are no Swarm warships here nor is there any nexus. I want an explanation, and I want it now.”
“Sir,” Galyan said. “I believe that the correct answer is that we are screwed.”
“Maybe,” Maddox said, not missing a beat, “or maybe the professor has an answer. Tell him to get his sorry butt up here now. I want to know what happened.”
“I am on it, sir,” Galyan said, disappearing.
Maddox wanted to run a hand over his face, but he didn’t. This was one of those moments when the captain had to remain stoic. He had to stay calm so his people stayed calm. They were far, far from home. They might be screwed, as Galyan had suggested. He wondered now…
“No,” Maddox whispered to himself. There would be no more negative self-talk. He was the captain of the deepest-voyaging Patrol vessel in human history. It was time to get it done no matter what it took.
Galyan reappeared.
“Speak softly,” Maddox said out of the corner of his mouth.
Galyan floated a little closer to the command chair. “I spoke to the professor. He says—are you ready for this, sir?”
The Lost Star Gate (Lost Starship Series Book 9) Page 37
