The Lost Colony (Lost Starship Series Book 4)

by Vaughn Heppner

  “Villars must have intended to kill the two of us,” Maddox said. “He got exactly what he deserved.”

  Ludendorff looked away. He sighed. “You’ve complicated my life ever since I’ve met you. I can’t stay on Earth. You must realize that. I cannot remain in the open with others controlling my comings and goings.”

  “You’re not a slug who lives under a rock,” Maddox said. “You’re a person.”

  “Captain, there are many factors in play with me. There are too many dangerous people who would rather have me dead.”

  “Maybe if—”

  “I do not desire to hear your moralizing, young man. I see the big picture better than anyone else does. I must proceed with my plans the best I know how in order to save the human race.”

  Maddox stepped farther into the room. It had metal bulkheads and hatches, and contained advanced equipment everywhere.

  “Is this a secret bolt hole?” Maddox asked.

  Ludendorff watched him.

  Maddox glanced back at the door. The wall was thicker than normal. He had shot the outer, fake door. For whatever reason, the professor had not sealed the real hatch that would have secured this place like a bank vault. Could Ludendorff have wanted him to enter here? Then why let Villars loose like that? Did the professor believe he and Meta would have killed the slarn hunter? That would imply Ludendorff had sacrificed Villars.

  What was Ludendorff’s game? The Methuselah Man played much deeper than Maddox understood. Maybe he should just stick to the present issue.

  “Why did O’Hara let you out of Star Watch Headquarters?” Maddox asked. “She knows how dangerous you are.”

  Ludendorff smiled sadly. “After all this time, don’t you realize that I have contingency plans within contingency plans? O’Hara was persuaded that it would be in everyone interests to let me reconnect with Old Earth. No one saw the harm in letting me wander around the planet, revisiting my old haunts.”

  “You have agents or helpers planted in Star Watch Intelligence itself?” Maddox asked.

  “Leave, Captain,” Ludendorff said in a suddenly harsh voice. “I don’t want to hurt you. I owe you for rescuing me from the Dyson sphere, from the Builder. I try to pay my debts. My programming for survival is too powerful, though, to resist eliminating anyone trying to hinder me for long.”

  Maddox’s head swayed. This was a surprise. “Are you the best of the Builder’s androids?” the captain asked.

  Ludendorff shook his head. “I am flesh and blood, young man. But the Builder did something to our minds long ago. It’s why Strand and I have survived where the others perished. I have an imperative I cannot ignore. Even with the Builder gone…”

  “Don’t you want to be free of its conditioning?” Maddox asked.

  “I am who I am, Captain. It’s too late to change that.”

  Maddox glanced back at Meta. She held a spring-driven gun. It had caused the stitching sounds earlier. She aimed the weapon at the professor’s head.

  Approaching Ludendorff, Maddox sat in a chair across the table from him. The captain laid his suppressed pistol on the table.

  Ludendorff raised his eyebrows.

  “So that’s it,” Maddox said, indicating the machine with its bulbous sections. “Why couldn’t Riker and I find it before?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the professor said.

  “That must be your long-distance communication device,” Maddox said. “Riker and I searched for it after you were captured in the silver drone base. You must have already dismantled it.”

  Ludendorff stared at him.

  “You should have brought all the pieces down at once,” Maddox said. “It was the multiple trips to Victory that caused me to remember it.”

  Ludendorff shrugged. “There was no way around that, I’m afraid.”

  “Hmm,” Maddox said. “Who are you intending to call?”

  “Given your intelligence, you should have already figured that one out.”

  “A New Man,” Maddox said.

  “Correct.”

  “You’re going to tell him…” Maddox frowned. “Ah, you’re going to tell him about the Swarm and Commander Thrax Ti Ix, I presume.”

  Ludendorff nodded.

  “Do you believe the Swarm Empire is near Human Space?” Maddox asked.

  “I don’t know about the empire, but certainly Swarm warships must be near. At least, it’s a definite possibility, especially given Thrax’s wormhole technology injection into the empire.”

  “Why will you tell the New Men?”

  “The most obvious reason is because they’re the only one with a receiver who can pick up my transmission. The second reason… I’ve explained it before, Captain, but maybe you’ve forgotten. The New Men aren’t a monolithic group. There are factions among them. Besides, if Swarm bugs are in the universe in force…we finally know the Swarm still exists. I’ve suspected that for quite some time. So has Strand. He believes we must unite humanity into one powerful imperium to face the Swarm. But the Builder informed you that the Swarm Empire holds one tenth of our galaxy. How does one fight an empire with that kind of resources when we hold less than a tiny fraction of that?”

  “We may not have to face the Swarm for centuries.”

  “Or we may have to face them in two years’ time,” Ludendorff said.

  “Two years isn’t long enough to form humanity into a fighting imperium.”

  “Which is exactly why I’m sitting here ready to call,” Ludendorff said.

  Maddox considered that. “The Commonwealth has Adok technology now. That should help us against the Swarm.”

  “For a time, certainly,” Ludendorff said.

  “That still doesn’t answer my question. Why call the New Men, any of them? What are you planning to tell them?”

  “The truth, Captain. That we’ve found the Swarm. That it’s too late to try to conquer Human Space. We have to rethink our grand strategy.”

  “We?” Maddox asked. “Are you aligning yourself with the New Men?”

  “Definitely not,” the professor said. “I misspoke. That’s all.”

  “Or you made a Freudian slip,” Maddox said.

  “Think what you like.”

  “Are you suggesting that you’re going to try to convince the New Men not to fight Admiral Fletcher’s Grand Fleet?”

  “If I can,” Ludendorff said, “if I’m not too late.”

  “If the Grand Fleet survives its encounter with the New Men, humanity will have that many more warships to rearm with our Adok technology. If the New Men knew that, it might cause them to try to annihilate the Grand Fleet at all costs. Maybe it will cause them to attempt to attack Earth before we’re rearmed.”

  “I’m aware of the various ramifications,” Ludendorff said. “I’m going to call in order to stop the fighting if I can. I’m not going to tell the New Men—my few allies among them—anything that will encourage them to keep attacking Admiral Fletcher or make a sneak attack on Earth. In light of the Swarm Empire—however far it might be from us—all humans, brilliant or stupid, strong or weak must unite in order to survive the bugs.”

  Maddox could see the professor’s logic. The question was: could others switch their focus so easily? Once people were filled with outrage against aggressors, they often did not stop until the others were smashed. Besides, how wise would it be for regular humanity to let the New Men off the hook?

  Still, Ludendorff wasn’t trying to stop Fletcher from fighting. He was trying to stop the New Men. What was the right decision? What was happening in “C” Quadrant? Was the Grand Fleet on the verge of success or annihilation?

  Maddox picked up his pistol and shoved it in its holster. “Make the call,” he said.

  “If you would leave then, please,” Ludendorff said.

  “No. I’m going to listen to what you have to say.”

  “I’m afraid I must insist on privacy.”

  Maddox smiled wanly, waiting.

  Finall
y, Ludendorff scowled, picking up the microphone. He leaned forward and began touching select spots on the ancient communicator.

  -54-

  The Grand Fleet entered the Thebes System. The fleet had maneuvered through the last star systems with a mixture of daring with the lesser vessels and ultra-caution with the capital ships.

  Admiral Fletcher had lost six destroyers and fifteen escort vessels since awakening, but not another capital ship. The journey had also taken longer than Bishop believed reasonable. Now, though, they had arrived in the same system as the New Men’s invasion armada.

  Fletcher sat in his chair on Battleship Antietam’s bridge. The fleet had come through a Laumer-Point at the outer edge of the system. Now, the fleet began a slow acceleration for Thebes III in the inner system.

  The Grand Fleet moved in four separate formations. The outer, thinnest formation stretched before the three blocks of capital ships. The forward vessels were destroyers and missile boats acting as a screen.

  The three blocks were each a mixture of Star Watch battleships, Windsor League hammerships, carriers and cruisers of all varieties. Fletcher had configured block each so they had a near parity of numbers and hitting strength.

  Altogether, the Grand Fleet possessed 149 capital ships and 182 lesser vessels, making for a total of 331 warships with accompanying supply vessels. It was still an impressive fleet. But would it be a match for the New Men?

  Fletcher absorbed the incoming data. The Grand Fleet worked at peak efficiency, sending hard-accelerating probes at the enemy as well as scanning with sensors and watching through advanced teleoptics. It took time to gather the data. But ten hours after arriving in the system, Fletcher had a solid picture of the enemy.

  The New Men possessed an incredible eighty star cruisers. That was far more than he had counted on—eighty of those bastard vessels with their red fusion beams and unbelievable shields.

  If one figured each star cruiser was worth four Star Watch vessels of all kinds, that gave the enemy an equivalent value of 320 warships. That meant the two fleets were nearly equal in fighting power.

  Fletcher pondered that. He had three carriers with jump fighters and the new antimatter missiles. He had new wave harmonics shields on his best ships and a good amount of hammerships, which were worth two Star Watch battleships. That would up his number some, possibly giving him an equivalent of 350 to 360 warships.

  Of course, the New Men would undoubtedly have a few new wrinkles too.

  No matter how Fletcher looked at it, this was going to be a bloodbath. Yet, that was fine with him. He’d come out here to hit the enemy, to drive him out of “C” Quadrant. Unfortunately, so far, Fletcher hadn’t freed any captive people. That bothered him.

  The best that he could envision was to smash the invasion armada forever. Eighty star cruisers implied the New Men had brought all their reinforcements from the Throne World. This could well be the full extent of the enemy’s ship power.

  The data kept pouring in. There were tens of millions of people on Thebes III. There were also masses of space haulers, tramp vessels and cargo hulls in orbit around the Earthlike world. There were fewer ships than the Patrol vessel had seen almost two weeks ago. That would imply many of the ships had already started for the enemy’s Throne World. Did the haulers carry equipment or Commonwealth people?

  The admiral stood unsteadily. A faint feeling washed through him. He hadn’t fully recovered yet from his injuries.

  “Sir,” an aide said.

  Fletcher waved the nurse aside. He sat back in his chair with a suppressed groan. It wouldn’t do for the bridge crew to report seeing weakness in the admiral.

  “Are you feeling well, sir,” Antietam’s captain asked him quietly.

  Fletcher wasn’t going to say that he felt faint. He motioned the battleship’s captain closer.

  She bent low.

  “Let Bishop keep giving the overall orders for now,” he whispered. “You can relay that via a shuttle, can’t you?”

  “Of course, Admiral,” the captain said. She straightened, hesitated and then asked, “When are you going to let everyone know that you’re back in charge, sir?”

  They had decided a week ago to let the fleet know he was recovering but that Bishop held overall command until then. It would be a last minute surprise telling the fleet that Fletcher had returned to command. It would hopefully bolster confidence having him retake the helm at the most critical junction.

  In truth, Fletcher still didn’t know if he was ready to run a battle, the most important of his career and possibly for humanity. In his study, he could ponder and come up with plans. They had been doing it like that for almost two weeks, letting Bishop make the day-to-day fleet decisions. It wasn’t the best way to do it, but it had gotten the Grand Fleet this far.

  Using his right sleeve, the admiral blotted his forehead. It was sweaty and his breathing had become ragged, but still he waited. He didn’t want to stagger off the bridge.

  “Sir,” the nurse said again.

  Fletcher angrily waved the man back. Then, he gripped the armrests of his chair, wondering what his enemy counterparts were thinking in the inner system.

  -55-

  Strand was furious but he kept a calm, serene face before the assembled commanders of the armada.

  The Methuselah Man hadn’t seen so many free-minded New Men for quite some time. Those of his cloaked star cruiser had all gone under the knife. Strand only trusted those he utterly controlled. Attending this meeting was a calculated risk, one he hadn’t taken for quite some time.

  It was a strange feeling, an angering sensation, really. Still, he knew that it was important for his survival to take risks now and again. If one tried to remain safe every second, he lost his edge given enough time. Survival literally demanded a few risks to keep ennui at bay. Limited risks also helped keep his mind sharp.

  Strand had safeguards in place, of course, but it was wise not to fool himself into thinking these assembled commanders were completely harmless to him. They were eighty of the deadliest beings alive, the commanders of eighty star cruisers. Combined with his own cloaked star cruiser and the hidden mines strewn through the system—they would crush the arrogant humans in their oversized fleet. It had taken time bringing eighty star cruisers to one system. This represented the entire power of the Throne World, here, today, in this place.

  “I suggest we make a reversal,” Golden Ural said.

  Everyone attending the meeting stood, even old Strand. Each New Man and the Methuselah Man stood behind a podium in a vast circle, facing each other. In the center of the chamber was a holoimage of the Thebes System, showing the advancing Grand Fleet among other things.

  What a vain and grandiose title the humans give their Grand Fleet, Strand thought.

  “A reversal in what manner?” a New Man named Ba Lars asked.

  Golden Ural fixed his intense gaze on Strand. Ural was the tallest New Man in the room. He radiated strength and determination. He was the Emperor’s man and the commander of the armada, fresh from the Throne World.

  “The Swarm exists,” Golden Ural said.

  Strand became more alert than usual. The phrasing of the thought implied…

  “That is an interesting assertion,” Strand said. “Perhaps you can explain it in greater detail.”

  “The Swarm has an empire of vast extent,” Golden Ural said.

  “How vast?” asked Strand.

  “One tenth of our galaxy,” Golden Ural said.

  “Nonsense,” Strand said. “You cannot possibly know such a thing.”

  “If I did know,” Golden Ural said, “then what?”

  Strand realized that the only one who might know such a thing would be the Builder. It had disappeared a long time ago. Could Ludendorff have spoken with the Builder recently? If so, that would imply Golden Ural had been in contact with that sissy meddler. That was a dangerous change indeed.

  “You say the Swarm exists,” Strand said. “Tell us. How near is
their closest star system?”

  “That is unknown,” Golden Ural admitted.

  “I believe it is most likely that the Swarm is thousands of light-years from us,” Strand said.

  “I would agree that is the most likely possibility.”

  Strand shrugged. “Such a distance means that struggling against the Swarm is for our descendants far in the future.”

  “Even though I think an event is unlikely,” Golden Ural said, “it can still be. Thus, the Swarm could be near. The truth is we do not know their distance from us.”

  “I submit that you also do not know that the Swarm exists,” Strand said. “That was a spurious statement just now and I give it no weight. Which of you here will act on a rumor generated through sheer fright due to the thought of facing the sub-men?”

  As one, the New Men turned to Golden Ural, no doubt to see his reaction.

  The tallest of them appeared unconcerned with Strand’s outrageous slander. It was one of his keys to power, his ability to shrug off what would send others into a killing frenzy.

  “The turtle daring to peek out of its shell would speak to us of courage,” Golden Ural said in a lofty tone. “Mighty Strand, who is ready to flee our meeting in an instant lest one of us dares to test his immortality, knows much about fright.”

  A few of the New Men nodded as Strand grew hyper-alert. Golden Ural had just obliquely threatened him.

  “See how he watches us, brothers,” Golden Ural said. “He fears us because we are his superior.”

  In that moment, Strand seethed with hatred against Golden Ural. But he cloaked it, saying, “I invite you aboard my star cruiser, Commander. Show me your courage by accepting my invitation.”

  “Sweet Strand,” Golden Ural said, “who dares to open a New Man’s skull in order to put his filthiness in the brain. No, I will decline your offer, you who used to call himself our master.”

  “You tread on dangerous ground,” Strand warned.

  Golden Ural showed his teeth. “The lone wolf snarls, trying to frighten the pack by its fierceness. You are not one of us, Methuselah Man. You are alone in this universe, alone with your intricate schemes.”