The Lost Colony (Lost Starship Series Book 4)

by Vaughn Heppner

  “Is Thrax Ti Ix a normal Swarm creature?”

  “Define normal,” the Builder said.

  “Have you modified Thrax Ti Ix?”

  “Of course,” the Builder said. “It is another one of my parting gifts. We Builders stymied their evolution once. I have now accelerated it.”

  Maddox turned away, beginning to wonder if the Builder was sane.

  Steeling himself, Maddox faced the darkness. He couldn’t let the dimensions of the problem stifle his thinking. He had to outwit the Builder. Yet, was such a thing even possible? Yes! He had to find its weaknesses, its vulnerabilities. It would seem that guilt before the Creator was the sore spot. He would attack it there until the thing grew weary of him and killed him or he succeeded. Maddox had to win not just his life, but also the life of all humanity. It was a goal worth every effort.

  -44-

  “This is very interesting,” Maddox said. “I admit that my thinking is limited. Floating in this chamber, however, and speaking with an exalted intelligence such as you has begun to broaden my scope.”

  “I find that doubtful, although it is reasonable my presence should stimulate you.”

  “Your words have washed over me like waves. I am drenched with new possibilities and new ways of seeing reality. Can you forgive me for my former outbursts against you?”

  The Builder was silent for a time. Finally, it said, “I am seeking the Creator’s forgiveness. It would be surly of me to withhold forgiveness to one so far beneath me at the same time.”

  “That part troubles me, your exalted nature, I mean.”

  “How so?” the Builder asked.

  “Your concepts outstrip my own.”

  “That is true. Yet, I don’t see how it could it be otherwise.”

  “No doubt, no doubt,” Maddox said. “For instance, I’m having a hard time understanding your modification of Thrax Ti Ix.”

  “I thought you might, as the commander is a Swarm Captain Maddox.”

  “What?”

  “It is like you, a hybrid.”

  “Oh.”

  “The word ‘hybrid’ does not trouble you now?”

  Maddox shook his head. “If the commander is like me, it’s no wonder we clashed.”

  “No,” the Builder said. “That would have happened in any case. Swarm creatures stamp out all life that is non-Swarm. That Thrax did not do so immediately is a testament to his hybrid nature.”

  “Interesting,” Maddox said. “By the way, isn’t it wrong to simply stamp out life?”

  “Not for Swarm creatures,” the Builder said.

  “It’s wrong for a Builder to stamp out life, but not for a Swarm creature?”

  “That is correct,” the Builder said. “And that is so because the Swarm is the most successful life-form in our galaxy.”

  “Oh,” Maddox said, as if deep in thought. “I think I understand. We know they’re the most successful because they kill everyone else.”

  “That is one way to say it.”

  “Interesting,” Maddox said. “I guess that would make the Nameless Ones the most successful life-form in the universe.”

  “No! They were pure killers.”

  “Just like the Swarm,” Maddox said.

  “No, No,” the Builder said. “You do not understand. The Swarm kills, but they also construct world-sized hives. The Nameless Ones only destroyed, never built.”

  “They built the Destroyers,” Maddox said.

  “Yes, but that was the only thing they built. The Swarm makes hives on a thousand worlds. That is the essence of life, to build, to grow, to expand with life.”

  “That would make you Builders the highest life form,” Maddox said.

  “No. We lost our spirit. The Swarm does not have the same type of spirit. Thus, it lacks our weakness.”

  Maddox closed his eyes. His head had begun to throb from all these conflicting concepts. He pushed the pain aside, though, concentrating on the moment.

  “Did you put cybernetic interfaces in Thrax Ti Ix?” Maddox asked.

  “Of course.”

  “The commander is not fully Swarm then.”

  “Incorrect, the commander is a superior Swarm, a hybrid creature.”

  “The commander is superior because it is more like a Builder now?” Maddox asked.

  The Builder did not respond.

  “I am beginning to suspect that your vast age has clouded your thinking,” Maddox said.

  “You may be right. I am unsure. Speaking with you has been a mistake. I yearn for certainty. It is the chief reason I desire an ending. Thrax Ti Ix begged me to forgo this conversation. The commander suggested…well, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Did Thrax suggest the test in the glass cell?”

  “It did indeed,” the Builder said.

  Maddox clapped his hands.

  The darkness recoiled from him. “Do not do that again. I detest the noise. What was that supposed to signify?”

  “I believe the Creator just spoke to me,” Maddox said, thinking quickly.

  “Why would the Creator speak to a hybrid like you when I am right here?”

  “Why wouldn’t the Creator speak to me? In fact, I may be the obvious choice. Humanity yearns to live. Thus, in me, it asks you, ‘Why do you wish to annihilate us?’”

  “I do not wish such a thing,” the Builder said.

  “You are releasing the Swarm upon humanity, giving them warships they never made.”

  “We destroyed many more warships of theirs six thousand years ago.”

  “That was your error, not ours. You are causing us grief for your guilt.”

  “I am making restitution for our savagery in the past,” the Builder said.

  Maddox laughed scornfully. “That’s some restitution you have going. You murdered one group six thousand years ago and now are ensuring the mass murder of another by giving these Swarm an unfair advantage against us. Your sense of right and wrong is very odd indeed.”

  “I must do this in order to pay for my wrongs,” the Builder said.

  “Don’t you know that you can’t pay for them?”

  “You cannot know such a thing.”

  “You didn’t let me finish,” Maddox said. “You can’t pay for your wrongs as a mass murderer by making sure another mass murder takes place. And to think that you’re doing this for life. It’s a joke on a vast scale, but a joke just the same.”

  “I have grown weary of your bombastic statements. It is time—”

  “Let us fight,” Maddox said.

  “You desire to fight me?” the Builder asked in wonder.

  “No,” Maddox said. “I desire to fight for survival. You want a test. I’ll give you a test. Release my crew, release the professor, the port admiral and his people, and the humans in the sphere, and let us duke it out with the Swarm in their new warships.”

  “They will destroy you.”

  “I accept that if they can do it. I’m here to tell you, though, that I’ll destroy them. In that way, I’ll prove myself a better champion for life than them.”

  “By killing?” the Builder asked.

  “I’m using the same measure you are, one that will doom humanity to extinction. The least you could do is not be a hypocrite about all this.”

  “It would take time for Thrax Ti Ix to gather the Swarms to their warships.”

  Maddox had wondered about that, hoping it was so. He said, “Survival of the fittest. Isn’t that your credo?”

  “Hearing it from you makes the concept seem sordid.”

  “I can tell you why that is if you want me to,” Maddox said.

  “Please tell me,” the Builder said.

  “I still have spirit. You’ve lost yours, which is why you wish to end your life. In fact—”

  “Give me silence,” the Builder said in an ominous tone.

  Maddox fell silent.

  The two of them floated in the stellar chamber. The darkness drifted away from Maddox, with the blinking lights slowly moving a
long the Builder’s head area. After a span, the darkness moved closer again.

  “I have decided,” the Builder said in a soft voice. “You have the right to life. You did not ask for help, but for the chance to fight for survival. I suspect the battle between you two will destroy the sphere. I will thus remain here and die in my guilt. It is a fitting end, the two champions of life battling over the remains of the Builders.”

  “I do have one request,” Maddox said.

  “You disappoint me. What is it?”

  “I would like a hyper-spatial tube in order to return home to Human Space.”

  “Let me ponder the request.”

  Once more, the Builder drifted away. It returned sooner this time.

  “I will agree. But I will also give Thrax Ti Ix a tube. I will give the commander the chance to bring its fleet and jump technology to the Swarm Empire in a single bound across space. Do you agree to this condition?”

  “Yes,” Maddox said.

  “It would have been better for you to deliberate such a thing. But you have made your choice. So be it. Now go, Captain. I have become weary of your presence. You have stolen what little peace I had attained. Now, I wish the end to come as soon as possible.”

  Maddox might have said more, but he winked out of the Builder’s presence. He vanished from the stellar chamber, finding himself in a room with Ludendorff, Meta, Riker, Admiral Hayes and three small people wearing elaborate suits.

  It was time to get ready for the final Builder test.

  -45-

  Admiral Fletcher woke up by degrees. A harsh chemical stench was the first thing he noticed. He wanted to turn his head, to get away from the smell, but he found that impossible to do.

  “Where am I?” was his first silent question. It was quickly followed by, “What happened to me?”

  He remembered Pa Kur’s interrogation. The New Man had gone berserk. He’d moved so fast, like a fly one tried to catch but couldn’t. Pa Kur had shot the Marines, shot the one-way glass and attacked.

  Yes, now Fletcher recalled. He’d had a force blade, clicking it on and shoving the raw energy into the New Man. That should have been the end of it.

  I thought I died.

  Fletcher opened his eyes. He saw blurry shapes over him. Were they operating? It seemed likely. Maybe it wasn’t time to wake up. Maybe he should close his eyes.

  He did, opening them later in the dark. He tried to talk, but no one heard him. That was just as well. He was already tired and wanted to go back to sleep.

  The third time he opened his eyes, a nurse smiled at him.

  “Hello,” he whispered.

  “Hello, Admiral,” she said.

  “Is it bad?” he whispered.

  Her smile became the sweetest thing he’d ever seen. “Not anymore, sir. We’ve all been waiting for you to wake up.”

  “Is the fleet—?”

  She put a warm hand on his arm. He loved her touch. He hoped she never let go.

  “The doctor is coming. He can explain the situation better than I can, sir. Until then, just relax.”

  Fletcher must have fallen asleep again, because the fourth time he woke up, the captain of Antietam stood by his bed.

  She frowned down at him as he opened his eyes.

  “Oh,” she said, stepping back. “I should go.”

  “Hold it,” Fletcher said. He spoke a little louder than a whisper. This time, he had more clarity of mind. He realized that he had been out for a while. Doctors had operated on him. It had taken him time to recuperate.

  The captain moved up to the bed.

  Fletcher turned his head on the pillow. It took time. He turned back toward the captain, his eyes searching.

  “Is there anything I can do for you, sir?” she asked.

  “Yes, raise the bed so I’m not lying here like an invalid.”

  The captain picked up a clicker, pressing it. The bed raised the admiral’s head and torso.

  “That’s good,” Fletcher said. He was breathing harder, and his head began to hurt.

  “I should call the doctor,” the captain said.

  “No,” Fletcher said breathlessly. “I want a situation report, and I want it now.”

  “We’re several jumps from the Thebes System,” the captain said, appearing nervous.

  “What else?” Fletcher said. “What are you hiding?”

  “Third Admiral Bishop is in nominal command of the Grand Fleet.”

  “What?” Fletcher said in a hoarse voice. “I’m out a few days and that blue-nosed bastard grabs the reins. You never should have let that happen. That scoundrel, that dog of a Windsor League—”

  “Here, now,” tall Earl Bishop said, stepping forward. “I might begin to resent those words.”

  Fletcher was breathing hard, with a rattle in his throat.

  A doctor hurried into the chamber, glancing at Fletcher, Bishop and then Fletcher again. “Everyone out,” he said.

  “Belay that order,” Fletcher wheezed. “I want to get to the bottom of this.”

  “Sir,” the doctor said.

  “Stand down, I said,” Fletcher wheezed. “I’m perfectly fine.”

  “I would oblige you, Doctor,” Bishop said, “but this is too important.”

  “What in blazes are you babbling about?” Fletcher demanded.

  “Admiral,” the doctor said. “You’re delirious.”

  “I certainly am not,” Fletcher said. “I’m dead tired. I sound awful, but I am quite lucid. What is the matter? Why is Bishop here, to murder me in my sleep and solidify his hold on command?”

  The Windsor League earl looked away, turning a crimson color.

  “Sir,” Antietam’s captain said. “You have it all wrong, sir. It isn’t like that at all.”

  Fletcher felt his heart flutter and his face grow cold.

  “This is too much,” the doctor said.

  “Give me a stimulant,” Fletcher said.

  The doctor shook his head.

  “Do it,” Bishop said.

  Fletcher squinted at the tall earl. Was he being foolish? Would he kill himself if he accepted a stimulant? Maybe he should—

  A hypo hissed as it injected a stimulant into him.

  Fletcher stared at the offensive medical instrument and then at the doctor. The man wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  Bishop faced him again, putting his longer fingers on the cot’s rail. The earl didn’t wear his monocle. He looked better without it, more human.

  “I’m afraid I’ve been something of an ass, Admiral,” Bishop said. “I’m here to admit it to you, and, well, to tell you I’m sorry.”

  “What?” Fletcher said. Was he hearing right?

  Bishop nodded. “I’m not often in the wrong, and when I am, I can maneuver my way out of trouble. You’ve been right all down the line, Admiral. I’m not too small of a noble to see that. The truth, sir, is that the fleet needs you and I need you. The men and women don’t trust me like they trust you. I’ve kept everyone in place and doing it as you said for some time. How you knew to attack those star cruisers in the Hades System I will never know. That and losing more hammerships showed me you know what you’re talking about when it comes to facing the New Men. They’re a cunning bunch, but you’re better than they are, Admiral.”

  “Am I delirious?” Fletcher asked the doctor.

  The doctor had a hard time keeping a smile off his face. “You heard correctly, Admiral.”

  Fletcher eyed the tall, Windsor League noble. “Are we in trouble?”

  “Possibly,” Bishop admitted.

  “You need me to talk to the crews?”

  “I do.”

  “That’s it, is it?” Fletcher asked. “That’s why you’re here saying you’re sorry.”

  “Now see here, old chum. I mean what I’ve been saying.”

  “Stow it, Bishop,” Fletcher wheezed. “I’m not interested. We’re in a war and the New Men are near. Is that right?”

  “I believe so,” Bishop said.

&
nbsp; “Doctor,” the admiral said, “how long do I have to think clearly?”

  The doctor checked his watch. “A half hour, perhaps, no more than forty-five minutes more. You’re still very fragile, sir.”

  Fletcher pondered that. “Tell me the situation,” he told Bishop.

  The earl cleared his throat. “As the captain said, we’re several jumps from the Thebes System.”

  “Which means we’ve been advancing fast,” Fletcher said.

  “We have,” Bishop said.

  “You’ve been taking risks to get us here fast, too, haven’t you?”

  “I don’t deny it.”

  “How many ships have you lost so far?”

  “Three battleships, fifteen cruisers and twenty-nine destroyers,” Bishop said.

  “What the bloody Hell have you been doing with my fleet?” Fletcher shouted hoarsely.

  The earl stiffened and his features turned crimson again.

  “He did damage nine star cruisers,” Antietam’s captain said. “The New Men were tricky, though. They managed to—”

  “Damaged?” Fletcher shouted. “He damaged a few enemy vessels, did he?”

  “You must calm yourself, Admiral,” the doctor said. “If you keep this up, you’ll have a relapse.”

  “How many star cruisers did you destroy?” Fletcher asked, panting as he did.

  Bishop shook his head.

  Fletcher gasped as he went limp, staring up at the ceiling. He could feel strength and energy leaving him. He couldn’t let himself get so angry. Bishop had lost forty-seven combat vessels. That was—

  “I have found critical intelligence,” Bishop said. “I dare say this intelligence was worth the…the lost vessels.”

  Fletcher stared at him. Could this be true? They needed something for all those losses.

  “A Patrol frigate reached the Thebes System,” Bishop said. “The captain was a cagy fellow, managing to slip out, barely making it back to the Grand Fleet. I lost the three battleships and most of those destroyers making sure he reached us. It’s clear the New Men didn’t want the frigate bringing us its news. I gambled on the vessel, I admit it. Fortunately, the Patrol officer’s report was quite illuminating.”

  “What did he see?” Fletcher whispered. “Tell me while I’m still awake.”