SF Books by Vaughn Heppner

THE A.I. SERIES:

A.I. Destroyer

A.I. Gene

A.I. Assault

A.I. Battle Station

A.I. Battle Fleet

A.I. Void Ship

A.I. Rescue

A.I. Armada

EXTINCTION WARS SERIES:

Assault Troopers

Planet Strike

Star Viking

Fortress Earth

Target: Earth

LOST STARSHIP SERIES:

The Lost Starship

The Lost Command

The Lost Destroyer

The Lost Colony

The Lost Patrol

The Lost Planet

The Lost Earth

The Lost Artifact

The Lost Star Gate

The Lost Supernova

The Lost Swarm

The Lost Intelligence

The Lost Tech

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The Lost Intelligence

(Lost Starship Series 12)

by Vaughn Heppner

Illustration © Tom Edwards

TomEdwardsDesign.com

Copyright © 2020 by the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

“For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?”

-- Mark 8:36

-PROLOGUE-

“There’s someone to see you, sir,” the nurse said.

James K. Fletcher sat outside on the back veranda of his house on Maui, one of the islands of the Hawaiian chain.

Fletcher had once been tall, strong and overbearing, an admiral in Star Watch commanding the Fifth Fleet and later the Grand Fleet. He’d faced New Men, Swarm soldiers and ships, Spacers and even an Old One on the Forbidden Planet. The last battle had broken his already flagging spirit. Too many good men and women had died under his command, too many vital ships lost.

He’d retired after the Battle at the Forbidden Planet.

Now, he’d become a frail old man: skin, bones and haunted eyes—he’d been starving himself for too long. A heavy quilt was pulled up to his chin and he had a hat on his head. The skin sagged on his old face as he watched the ocean waves pounding the shore.

“Sir,” the nurse said.

Fletcher heard her but pretended he didn’t. He had a good idea what she wanted. Two days ago, all the members of the Board of Admiralty had come together to cajole him back into the service. Lord High Admiral Cook had been forced out after his actions on Pluto, sending a secret message to Star Watch’s enemy. Cook had joined the Iron Lady in retirement, as someone had compromised their minds.

Anyway, first one and then another admiral had come to see Fletcher. They needed him, they said. At a time like this, someone well known and respected had to take the helm of Star Watch, doing so as the new Lord High Admiral.

When they came as a group, they’d finally told him the truth. Admiral Byron was the other candidate. Five months ago, Byron had defeated renegade New Men under Lord Drakos and Swarm hybrids under Commander Thrax Ti Ix. Byron had done so while working with Golden Ural of the Throne World.

“Sounds like Byron’s your man,” Fletcher had mumbled.

“No!” said the Chief of Naval Personnel, a stern woman. “For one thing, Byron is from Flanders, an agriculture world in the former Windsor League, not an old Earther like you. And if you must know the truth, Captain Maddox did the heavy lifting that battle. Byron acted as his puppet.”

That had gotten a reaction from Fletcher, a shift of the eyes. He’d never really trusted the half-breed, had never understood why Maddox had been Cook’s fair-haired boy. Still, in the end, he’d refused to come out of retirement. He was old now. Weak. Worn out. He had too much blood on his hands.

“Sir,” the nurse said in the here and now. She could be persistent.

“What?” Fletcher muttered from his deck chair.

“There’s a man here to see you.”

“Send him away.”

“The admirals said it was important.”

With rheumy eyes, Fletcher stared out at the ocean. Despite the thunder of the waves, it was peaceful here. He wanted peace. He wanted to fade away as the cries and accusations of the dead faded with his weakening memories.

Fletcher knew he was old before his time. But he believed it was punishment for his callous ways, his command decisions and the tens of thousands of nubile young women the New Men had stolen out from under his nose. That had always galled him. Oh, how he’d wanted to punish the arrogant, golden-skinned bastards for that. But he never had been able to.

A warm hand touched his blanketed shoulder. “Please, sir,” the nurse said. “You must relax. Don’t breathe so hard.”

“Send him away,” Fletcher wheezed.

The nurse looked up. “It’s too late for that, sir. He’s already here.”

“Dammit,” Fletcher said, struggling to sit up. “I gave you an order.” He turned in his deck chair, turned to see a small man framed by the open sliding glass door.

“Hello, Admiral,” the man said.

He was pallid with narrow shoulders and wore a black Star Watch Intelligence uniform, the insignia showing he was a captain. Women might consider him handsome with his narrow mustache. He had dark eyes with a glint of something hidden there.

“Who are you?” Fletcher asked, with a tiny amount of saliva dribbling out of the right corner of his mouth.

The nurse dutifully wiped that away.

“I’m Captain Becker, sir.”

“Leave,” Fletcher said.

“I can’t, sir. I have my orders.”

“Well…what are your orders?”

“To convince you to become the new Lord High Admiral,” Becker said.

“What? You little squirt. You’re nothing to me. Is this a prank?”

Becker glanced at the nurse, and the glint in his eyes… “Perhaps you should let me speak to him in private.”

“I-I’m not supposed to leave him,” the nurse stammered.

“Go,” Becker said, and there was force in his voice.

The nurse straightened, and woodenly, she passed Becker, going into the house.

“What just happened?” Fletcher said. He was old and weak, but he wasn’t anyone’s fool.

Becker closed the sliding glass door behind him, coming out on the veranda with Fletcher. He squatted beside the feeble old man and put narrow hands on one of the deck chair’s armrests. Any observer would think him quietly chatting with blanketed Fletcher.

“Look into my eyes,” Becker said, with obvious command. “Let me tell you a secret.”

Fletcher found himself staring into those dark eyes. There was no longer just a glint, but shining power, a compelling aura about the man. It was more than hypnotic. Something seemed to pass from the dark eyes into Fletcher. He felt as if strength and resolve filled him like air blown into a balloon. It was frankly invigorating.

“You will become the Lord High Admiral,” Becker said.

“I…I have some reservations about that.”

“I know. But it’s time to act in order to perform great deeds that will pay for all those who died under your old command.”

“Is that how such things work?”

“You will help the rest of us, the ordinary humans, against the New Men, the Swarm creatures and others who desire to eliminate the race of Man from existence.”

“Do we really have a chance against superior men, trillions of advanced bugs and whatever else is waiting out there?” Fletcher asked.

“If we all band together like citizens into an old-style Roman legion, acting as one, then yes, we can face any enemy. We will overcome.”

“Admiral Byron could do that, too.”

“No. We need an Earth-born man to take charge. We need the symbolism of that.”

Fletcher nodded slowly.

“You could also start initiating changes in Star Watch,” Becker said.

“What kind of changes?”

Becker told him.

“What you say will be difficult,” Fletcher said afterward. “While I already feel stronger, I’m not a young man anymore.”

“I know. We’ll help.”

Fletcher frowned. “Just who are ‘we’ anyway?”

“The men and women of Star Watch who believe that unmodified humans are best suited for the job of defending humanity.”

“Yes,” Fletcher said, his rheumy eyes beginning to shine with purpose and resolve. “Only…”

“What now?” Becker asked, perhaps with a hint of annoyance.

“I’ve been out there, son. I’ve faced the enemy. Platitudes aren’t going to save us. Even if humanity works with one accord…” Fletcher shook his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Becker fingered his chin, studying the old man with hooded eyes. In the end, he nodded. “It will be hard work, certainly, but you have no idea what truly united humanity can do. With everyone pulling in one direction—let me tell you how it could be achieved.”

Fletcher sat absorbed as he listened to Becker again, once more drawing strength from the man. What the Intelligence captain said made sense. Cook was gone. Now, Star Watch needed to be more vigilant than ever, and that meant making damned sure that regular humans did the heavy lifting. They would have to make the right choices, of course. But when only real Homo sapiens served in the legion, not anyone else, because no one else had humanity’s best interests at heart—

Fletcher frowned. Despite all he’d heard, he still had a reservation. Becker had spoken about someone named Nostradamus, saying he would help Star Watch to make the right choices.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Fletcher said.

Becker stopped talking, watching him closely.

“Who’s this Nostradamus?” Fletcher asked. “I don’t understand how he can do the things you’ve suggested.”

For the first time, Becker frowned. It lasted only a second. His lips straightened as he dug under the blanket, gripping one of Fletcher’s withered arms with both hands. Becker inhaled deeply and said with a loud voice, “Listen to me, old man. Are you listening?”

Strain showed on Becker’s face. Then, heat radiated from the captain’s hands. At first, it was frightening. Then, the heat flooded Fletcher with even greater strength than before. It was intoxicating. Oh, yes, he was going to make Star Watch the greatest organization in the Orion Spiral Arm, and nothing was going to stop him. Here was his great and final purpose, his reason for being.

“You’ll need Nostradamus in order to achieve all this,” Becker whispered.

“Why?”

“He will predict our enemies’ moves with startling accuracy.”

“He can do that?”

“And more,” Becker whispered, “much more. But first, you must become the Lord High Admiral.”

The idea of that—“Help me stand, young man. I have a call to make.”

“I will, sir. But before you make the call, you’ll need food, lots of food to rebuild your vigor and fill out your frame again.”

Fletcher stared at him. It was strange, but Becker seemed drained, as if he’d used up tremendous energy.

The old man grinned. He still remembered how to do that. “Get my nurse. Tell her to start cooking. I’m ravenous, by George. I have a job to do, and I’m going to get it done or die trying.”

Becker climbed wearily to his feet until he stood straight, saluting sharply. “Let me be the first to congratulate you, sir, on your new appointment.”

“Yes, yes,” Fletcher said, with a wave of a veined old hand, one that now moved spryly. “I don’t have time to gab. I want to work and accomplish mighty deeds. Do you hear me?”

Becker nodded.

“Then move,” Fletcher said, using his newly rediscovered command voice. “This is about saving Star Watch and the human race.”

“Yes, sir,” Becker said, opening the sliding glass door. “You’re absolutely correct, sir. I can tell you’re a man of great vision.”

Fletcher nodded. It was true. He had a vision, a new one, a mighty one. He could hardly wait to get started.

PART I

THE TAU CETI INCIDENT

-1-

It started for Maddox and the crew of Victory in the dead Tau Ceti System. They were on patrol, seemingly sent out innocently due to the roster rotation. Then, Brigadier Stokes who ran Intelligence had sent them a cryptic message through the Long-Range Builder comm device. The brigadier had told Maddox about the illegal use of Intelligence credentials for smuggling contraband through the system.

The odd thing was, catching smugglers was small potatoes compared to what Victory had been doing. Maybe this was considered a holiday, a break, for the crew that had been laying everything on the line in extremely hazardous duty for years. It had only been six months since the Allied Fleet had defeated the renegade New Men and hybrid Swarm in the Battle of the Gomez System. Now, that had been exciting and risky as all hell.

Since then, Lord High Admiral Cook had stepped down, and James K. Fletcher had taken his place.

According to the ship sensors, Victory was alone in the desolate system. Once, Sergeant Riker’s nieces had lived here, a populous and thriving system. Not any longer and for good reason. Some of the heaviest fighting of the first Swarm Invasion had taken place at Tau Ceti. The Imperial bugs had effectively destroyed everything living in the star system. Some years later—after Star Watch and the New Men had crushed the invading bug fleet—the Iron Lady had hunted for Ludendorff here, finding him in an abandoned space station.

Ludendorff had captured and given her to Bosk Draegars, and they’d badly manipulated her mind. She’d never been the same since, being cashiered from Star Watch because of it.

Even so, time marched on as planets orbited their stars and the stars traveled through the universe.

At this moment, Maddox was in a starship gym doing burpees: up, stretch, down, pushup, up, stretch… He had ten-pound weights on each wrist and fifteen-pound weights on each ankle. He sweat as he exercised, and it felt terrific.

The captain was tall and lean and did his burpees with startling speed. He also possessed surprising strength. Ever since his soul-wound from fighting a Ska in the Alpha Centauri System, he’d been tired and weaker than before. Then, a little over six months ago, he’d slain a spiritual-entity Erill. He’d done so while in orbit around a strange planet and in his id with a Builder symbol, feeding off the alien entity, engorging himself with excess vitality. That vitality or spiritual energy healed the old soul-wound and then some. He was back. Actually, he was better than ever because he’d learned to channel the excess exuberance and strength by meditating through the Way of the Pilgrim.

The new vitality had one drawback, though. Like anyone with New Man blood, he found it hard to sit still for long. He always wanted to be active.

Not that he was a full New Man. He’d learned so much last voyage. For one thing, his New Man father had loved his mother. He also happened to be Mary O’Hara’s grandson. And his dear mother, with her husband’s help, had fled a birthing facility before fetus Maddox had received any prenatal genetic altering through needles piercing her stomach. All that being said, with his newfound Erill energy, he might be a match for a fully altered, golden-skinned New Man in a fistfight or foot race.

As Maddox stretched again, a little Adok holoimage with ropy arms appeared near him.

Maddox saw him at once and stopped mid-burpee. “What is it, Galyan?”

“Valerie has sighted a vessel, sir.”

“And?”

“It is black-hulled and maneuvering slowly through a vast dust cloud.”

“Sounds like our boy.”

“Agreed, sir,” Galyan said.

“How far out is the ship?”

“Half the system, sir.”

Maddox nodded as he whipped a rolled-up towel around his neck. “I’ll shower before I head up.”

“Very good, sir,” Galyan said.

The holoimage seemed to bob up and down like an excited young boy.

“Is there something else?” asked Maddox.

“Perhaps I should scan the vessel with the far-attack computer.”

“Maybe a bit later,” Maddox said. “Let me study the situation first.”

“Of course,” Galyan said, the AI holoimage sounding disappointed. And with that, he disappeared.

Maddox tightened his grip around both towel ends. Why had Stokes sent them out here with such a piddly mission? It felt as if the brigadier had been trying to get them out of the way. Did it have anything to do with the new Lord High Admiral? Things had changed when Cook retired. People had been acting differently.

Maddox snorted. Maybe he was just nervous about the new man in charge. Fletcher had never really cared for him, but he’d bailed out the man more than once. That ought to count for something. Besides, he was still the hero, having done much of the work to win the Battle of the Gomez System. He’d surely earned some goodwill from those in higher command who used to distrust him.

Still, why had Stokes been so cryptic about this vessel? He had acted as if others were eavesdropping on him. That should be impossible through a Long-Range Builder comm device.

Maddox shrugged, turned and headed for the showers. This ought to be routine. It was one ship all alone out here. The ship captain out there was acting sketchy, but that didn’t mean he was automatically guilty of wrongdoing. Besides, what could he be smuggling that had Stokes’s panties in such a bunch?

“I’ll find out soon enough,” Maddox said.

-2-

Maddox sat in the command chair on the bridge. The regulars were all in place: Valerie, Andros Crank, Riker and Keith Maker at helm. Ludendorff was missing, but he wasn’t a regular. It had just seemed that way because he’d been on so many voyages.

“This is a long-range scan,” Valerie said.

Maddox studied the main screen. He couldn’t see much. The Tau Ceti System had more dust particles than most. Many of those particles had shifted around due to all the nuclear and antimatter explosions several years ago.

“Highlight the vessel, Galyan,” Maddox said.

A distant image appeared in a dust cloud half a system away. It had the shape of a rectangular box, a hauler presumably, a cargo-carrying merchant ship.

“It’s heading for a Laumer Point,” Maddox noted.

“The route will eventually lead to Earth,” Valerie said.

“Why can’t Stokes have someone intercept the hauler there?” asked Maddox.

No one gave an opinion, as that seemed rather obvious now.

Maddox drummed his right-hand fingers on his armrest. “We’ll use the star-drive jump and appear in the dust cloud. Let’s do it far enough away from them so they won’t notice even if they’re looking for something like that.”

“I suggest we appear behind the nearest planet relative to them,” Valerie said.

Maddox nodded. He was still mulling over what Valerie had told him a few minutes ago. It was a Class 3 hauler, registered on Earth as belonging to the Sulla Corporation, Ghent Division, Earl Set. The hauler’s name was the Lolis II. According to Valerie’s data, that meant it was a black ops Star Watch vessel working on an undercover Intelligence assignment.

Why would Stokes send them against such a ship? Was the Lolis II’s captain working against Star Watch? Clearly, someone in Intelligence was doing something Brigadier Stokes, the chief of Intelligence, didn’t like. It actually made more sense now why Victory was out here. Stokes hadn’t told them much, so he wouldn’t be on record. It would appear the brigadier was counting on Maddox to solve a troublesome puzzle for him. Or, Stokes was keeping his hands clean.

“Jump once you’re ready,” Maddox told Keith.

“I can jump now, if you want,” the small Scotsman said.

“No,” Maddox said. “Give it a minute.”

Maddox nodded after the minute passed. Victory jumped across half the system to appear in a thick particle cloud of dust behind a gas giant.

The bridge personnel began to stir, shaking off the effects of Jump Lag.

“Should I launch a probe, sir?” Valerie asked.

“Not yet,” Maddox said, who had been thinking all this time.

“But sir, the Lolis II will spot Victory the minute we come around the planet,” Valerie said.

Maddox turned his chair to stare at Valerie.

She gave him a tremulous smile. She still had her long brunette hair, an athletic figure and—there was something else. She had more confidence than in the past. Maybe sending her out on a mission where she was in charge over six months ago had been good for her. Maddox didn’t want to quash her new initiative, but he didn’t want her arguing with him all the time either.

He nodded to her to relieve the tension.

Valerie’s smile grew as she nodded back, turning to her station.

Maddox faced the main screen. The swirling gas giant took up most of it. “Galyan, I have an idea. I’ll send a shuttle around the gas giant and have you relay from it. You can use your distance holo-imaging and look around inside the Lolis II. See if you can spot something that would make Stokes nervous.”

“That sounds splendid, sir. Thank you.”

“This isn’t an outing,” Maddox said. “I want you to do this without anyone spotting you.”

Galyan bobbed his small alien head up and down.

“Lieutenant,” Maddox told Valerie. “Why don’t you take out the shuttle? We’ll string a few probes from you to us to help Galyan with the relaying.”

Valerie spun around, raising her eyebrows. Then she lurched to her feet. “Yes, sir,” she said.

“Should I pilot her shuttle?” Keith asked from helm.

“No,” Maddox said. Valerie and Keith had had another spat. He wanted her mind in the game. He knew Keith’s wouldn’t be.

“But sir,” Keith said.

Maddox shot him a hard look.

Keith got the message, hanging his head, facing forward again.

Valerie had waited. Now, she headed for the exit.

“This is a black ops Intelligence vessel,” Maddox told Galyan. “It’s conceivable they have equipment to deal with a snoop like you.”

“I do not think so,” Galyan said.

Maddox repressed a grin. He didn’t think so, either. But it was good for an operative, even a holographic one, to be ready for the worst.

“Do you need to prepare?”

“I am ready,” Galyan said. “I do not really need a relay.” He cocked his head. “Did you send Valerie because—?”

“Galyan,” Maddox said.

“Sir?”

“Don’t question or analyze my orders.”

“Oh. No. I will not, sir. I am sorry.”

“And don’t apologize, either.”

“I will not, sir. I am…I am ready when you are.”

Maddox nodded. This should be no big deal, almost routine. But Stokes was cagey, and the set-up was all wrong. Intelligence should not work against Intelligence. If the brigadier was using Victory because the black ops ship out there was among the best… Maybe there was more going on here than he realized.

Well, if nothing else, this was good practice for Valerie and Galyan. Maddox himself would have liked to pilot the shuttle. But maybe it was past time that he gave Valerie more opportunities to practice independent command.

The captain squinted. What was the Lolis II trying to smuggle to Earth?

-3-

Galyan was a deified Adok AI. He had much of the personality of Driving Force Galyan, the last Adok space commander who had died six thousand years ago to Swarm invaders. Before passing on, his engrams had been infused into the ship’s artificial intelligence.

He deeply missed his wife. He had also learned to love his new family: Maddox and the others. They would die someday, and that made him sad. As he would continue to exist for…well, he did not know for how long.

Galyan had also deemed it wise to no longer dwell upon sad topics. He existed. He reasoned. Thus, he believed—and so, it appeared, did others—that he was alive. Life was an amazing gift, even as a computer intelligence. Thus, one should live, and living meant doing.

An Adok AI could do much in a shorter amount of time than most. Thus, Galyan craved new assignments and practically ached to get going already on the long-range mission. In that sense, and in odd ways, Galyan had emotions. It was not like human, biologically based emotions. But it was something more than cold, analytical logic.

“Galyan,” he heard the captain say from the bridge.

“Yes, sir.”

“Everything is in order. Check on Valerie, and then make your jump to the Lolis II.”

“At once, sir,” Galyan said.

He was, in many ways, the banks of computer equipment deep inside a secure area in Victory. The highly advanced computers were linked to a unique holographic imager. The imager projected him, and sometimes, the imager pumped various types of energy through him so he could affect the world around him physically.

The imager used a relay inside the shuttle Valerie had flown around the gas giant. He appeared as an Adok holoimage beside the beautiful lieutenant.

“Hello, Valerie.”

She shot up in her shuttle seat and whirled around. “Don’t do that, Galyan.”

“You are upset. Oh. I understand. I frightened you by just appearing. I am supposed to give you warning.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Is it worse because you are all alone in the shuttle?”

“Yes,” Valerie said sternly.

“You do not like being alone?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Did Keith tell you to say that?”

“No. It is an honest—oh. Did you two have another spat?”

Valerie’s eyes narrowed even more. “Did Keith say that?”

“No, the captain did.”

Valerie blushed and turned away.

“I would apologize, but the captain told me not to.”

She whirled around on him again. “The captain told you not to apologize to me?”

Galyan shook his head. “I believe it was a general rule, a principle.”

“That’s because the captain hates apologizing to anyone. Normal people do that, you know?”

“Yes. That is why I try to apologize. I am different enough as it is.”

Valerie smiled and laughed. “I wish I could hug you, Galyan.”

“I would like that very much. It makes me sad to think I cannot receive hugs.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you sad. I wish…well, never mind. Are you ready to make the scan?”

“This is not a scan,” Galyan said. “I beam my holographic presence there. I look around and listen. I can even detect odors.”

“Isn’t that like scanning?”

“This is not a scan. I go myself to see what is going on.”

“Oh,” Valerie said. “Oh,” she said again, her eyebrows arching, nodding afterward. “Happy hunting, then.”

“Thank you, Valerie. I appreciate that. I can stay with you a little longer if you are tired of being alone.”

“I’m a Star Watch officer. This is what I do.” Valerie checked one of her panels. “Maybe you should start now.”

Galyan’s eyelids flickered until he found the right verbiage. “Here goes nothing.” With that, he vanished.

He reappeared inside the Lolis II one million, four hundred and sixty-nine kilometers away from the shuttle.

Galyan looked around. He was in a corridor. He had automatically dimmed the strength of his holo-imaging. If he became invisible, his optic senses would not operate. Thus, he could only dim to ghost level, as the captain referred to it.

Galyan floated through corridors, searching for something incriminating. He went through bulkheads and locked hatches. He moved through the engine area and entered a coolant tank, coming out to spy two men playing cards.

Galyan stopped and used zoom vision. The men were in a control room, but each was bored, presumably. There was something odd about them. Each was thickly muscled and had luxuriously thick hair. They had heavy faces—Bosks. These two were Bosks. That surely meant they were from Jarnevon, the Bosk homeworld. Star Watch had sent a fleet to Jarnevon approximately two years ago. At that time, Ludendorff kidnapped the Iron Lady and gave her to the Draegars. The Bosk mind specialists had done a number on the professor, as well.

Did the Lolis II have anything to do with Bosks, Draegars or Jarnevon?

This called for further investigation. But Galyan would not question these two. They struck him as underlings, unimportant to the higher functions.

He sank into the deck, going down. He went through food processors, a gym, what must have been a bordello given the sexual activity in progress, and then entered a cargo hold.

Galyan halted because he’d reached a unique electromagnetic shield. Logically, the shield existed to keep people out. Thus, he should penetrate the shield because what lay behind it might be what he had come to find. If he could analyze the shield type—he could. If he could adjust the frequency of his holo-imaging—he could.

Galyan floated through the shield, a bulkhead and another until he reached a strange configuration of long, low equipment. He had never seen equipment like this. The outer substance was formed of bone or some sort of unique exoskeleton—

Alien words with an interrogative tone sounded in the chamber. Galyan cocked his head, but he did not understand the language. The alien words sounded again, more demanding this time.

“Try English,” Galyan suggested.

It took a second. “Who are you?” asked the long, low, slightly vibrating machine.

“More to the point,” Galyan replied, “who are you, and what are you doing inside a black ops, Star Watch Intelligence vessel?”

Strange motes of light flashed across a membrane screen in the odd machine. A port opened and light shone from it, the light moving from the top of Galyan to the bottom. Where the light touched him, the holoimage wavered.

“You are…holographic,” the machine said. “You have lines or cracks in your…Adok, Adok features. That would imply you are Galyan, the ancient AI entity.”

“Who are you?”

A second orifice dilated open in the low bone machine and a bony nozzle slid out, aiming at Galyan. A flash of exotic power poured against the holoimage.

“Stop,” Galyan said.

The machine did not stop, with the exotic power increasing, blanketing the holoimage and melding with it.

“Stop,” Galyan said in an ultra-slow voice.

The melding seemed to imbue the holoimage with dark swirling force, abruptly causing the image to shrink to a tiny point and then flash with an electronic sizzle. A dark wispy curl of smoke was all that remained of Galyan except for a faint electric odor.

***

One million, four hundred kilometers away, as the shuttle waited in stable orbit at the gas giant, Valerie monitored the holo-imaging relay. She blinked, because the screen showed a huge energy spike. She reached for her board.

“Valerie!”

She whirled around, as that sounded like a frightened Galyan. Instead of seeing him, she saw black smoke pouring from the relay housing. Then something inside it exploded.

Valerie screamed in surprise, ducking a second before the explosion sent pieces flying everywhere.

Fortunately, she was unhurt.

As she rushed to the burst housing and saw the destroyed relay inside—what did that mean for Galyan and why had she heard him yell in fright?

-4-

The reports flooded to Maddox on the bridge. Galyan was not responding. Valerie had called in. The shuttle relay had exploded.

“Andros,” Maddox said. “Check on the main AI system downstairs.”

“What about the safeguards against AI tampering?” Andros asked with a frown. He was a Kai-Kaus Chief Technician, a short, stout, longhaired fellow: a genius compared to anyone else concerning tech problems—except maybe for Ludendorff.

Maddox crooked a finger at Andros. The stout man rose, hurrying to him. Maddox leaned forward and gripped one of the fleshy arms, whispering a special code.

“That will allow you access,” Maddox added.

“I’ll undoubtedly need help with this.”

“Take whoever you need. But get me a diagnostic, and fast,” Maddox said, shoving the chief technician toward the bridge exit.

“Yes, sir,” Andros said, staggering, turning and hurrying away.

Maddox swiveled his command chair. “Tell Valerie we’re retrieving the shuttle as we come around the planet.”

The lean comm officer who had taken her place at the station began relaying the message.

Maddox turned back to the main screen. What had happened to Galyan? What could have happened in the Lolis II to affect an AI holographic imager relay? At first blush, it would seem the enemy had reversed a process Galyan’s equipment had used in order to send destructive energy through the holoimage.

Maddox clicked an armrest control and prepped a Space Marine boarding party. He told Lieutenant Dain to wait by the attack shuttles in Hangar Bay 2.

Then Maddox studied the image on the screen. The Lolis II was a black ops Intelligence vessel. The supposed hauler might have special clearance, might have secret orders or maybe even a highly ranked Star Watch officer aboard. Yet…the vessel was smuggling contraband, at least according to Brigadier Stokes, and Stokes should know.

Assuming Stokes was telling the truth.

Maddox stood as the starship gained velocity, with Keith piloting. The captain put his hands behind his back. He needed to know what had happened to Galyan.

“Helm,” Maddox said. “Slow us down. Let the shuttle come to us on our side of the planet.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Keith said, manipulating his board.

Maybe just charging out there was the wrong way. Let the captain of the Lolis II sweat it out. If this were a smuggling mission, maybe it would be better if the black ops commander worried about Victory’s next move.

Maddox refrained from pacing, much as the need to do so surged through him. Instead, he took the moment to practice his breathing. He hadn’t been using the Way of the Pilgrim for quite some time. Maybe he should keep it up. He quieted himself and began the breathing ritual.

As he did, Victory slowed, Valerie’s shuttle picked up velocity as it headed around the gas giant to them.

“Sir,” the comm officer said, a warrant officer fresh out of the Academy. He was Doug Pinter from Indiana in the old United States. He still had pimples on his face. “The Lolis II is hailing Lieutenant Noonan.”

Maddox turned around, waiting for more data.

“The lieutenant isn’t responding to their hail.” Pinter looked up. “Sir, the Lolis II is threatening to open fire on the shuttle if the lieutenant fails to answer.”

“The hauler has weapons?” Maddox asked, surprised.

Pinter tapped his panel. “Yes, sir, I’m registering weapons.”

“The hauler is like a Bosk Q-ship?”

“I don’t know what a Q-ship is, sir, but the hauler has target lock-on.”

“Are the probes still in position?” Maddox asked.

“They are,” Pinter said.

“Hail the hauler through one of them. Use a priority one channel.”

Pinter manipulated his board fast. He’d been one of the best in his class.

Maddox faced the main screen.

“The captain of the Lolis II is responding,” Pinter said.

On the main screen, a woman appeared. She was a dusky-skinned, plain individual. She wore a tan uniform and had a dark mole near her left eye. Orange hair sprouted from under her military hat.

“What is the meaning of your call?” she said in a heavily accented voice.

Maddox said nothing, just stared at her.

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “I’m Captain Mayenne of the Lolis II. While we have Earth registry—”

“You’re a Bosk,” Maddox said, interrupting her.

She jerked her head sharply in the affirmative.

“When did the Bosks start allowing their women to become ship’s captains?” Maddox asked, knowing Bosk culture was supremely male-centered.

“Not when, sir, but after,” she said. “After Star Watch incorporated Jarnevon into the Commonwealth of Planets.”

“No,” Maddox said. “Jarnevon is still under military occupation. It’s not yet a voting planetary body. I wish to speak to the real captain of your ship.”

“I’m the captain.”

Maddox eyed her. She seemed nervous, as if she wasn’t playing her part very well. Bosks didn’t like him. Might they have put her in the captain’s chair as an insult to the notorious Captain Maddox, at least in the Bosk way of thinking? That would imply they knew they were dealing with Victory.

Maybe he was giving them too much credit.

“Fine,” Maddox said. “Captain Mayenne, stow your Q-gun and prepare for boarding. I’m going to inspect your vessel.”

“By what right?” she asked.

“Call it…curiosity.”

She blinked several times, glancing to the side, perhaps receiving instructions. She faced him again. “Curiosity is not a right.”

“It is when my ship outguns and outclasses yours in every way,” Maddox said.

“This is—this is an outrage. We are—” She turned her head sharply to the side. Her shoulders slumped and then she bowed her head, quietly rising and stepping away from the main screen.

A bulky, muscular Bosk man stepped into view. He had a mass of black hair, a thick neck and sloping, muscular shoulders. He had dark, contemptuous eyes in a dusky-skinned face and wore a Star Watch commodore’s uniform.

“We are in the process of targeting an electronic eavesdropping shuttle,” the Bosk growled. “You will immediately—”

“Fire on the shuttle, and I’ll destroy your hauler,” Maddox interrupted.

The Bosk straightened as if outraged. “I’m Commodore Jasken, a Star Watch Intelligence operative working under the authority of the Lord High Admiral. If the shuttle belongs to you, I demand a full apology for your electronic surveillance on our vessel. You will then leave this star system as we complete our mission.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Of course, I know, the notorious Captain Maddox of Star Watch. Now, sir, as my rank supersedes yours—”

“Prepare for boarding, Commodore.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m operating under the full authority of the Lord High Admiral.”

“I heard. You’re lying.”

The Bosk didn’t fly into a rage. Instead, so-called Commodore Jasken chuckled, shaking his head. “Captain Maddox, there is an easy way to solve the issue. Let us use your Long-Range Builder comm device to speak with the Lord High Admiral. He will confirm my words.”

Maddox hid his sudden unease. What was going on here? He’d begun to suspect the Bosks had hijacked the Lolis II. Now… How could Fletcher allow Bosks to command a black ops Intelligence vessel? What was more—

“How do you know about the Builder comm device?” Maddox asked.

Jasken spread his huge hands, his smile turning into a smirk.

Maddox turned to the side. “Is Valerie on our side of the planet yet?”

“Yes,” Keith said.

Maddox eyed the pilot before nodding and turning back to Jasken. “Let’s get one thing clear. You’d better put away your Q-gun. If you haven’t done that by the time I come around the gas giant, I’ll put that weapon away for you.”

“That would be an illegal attack,” Jasken said.

“After your Q-gun is disarmed, my Marines will board your ship.”

“I am under the full authority—”

Maddox turned and made a slicing motion across his throat.

Warrant Officer Pinter tapped his board, and the main screen went blank.

Maddox frowned thoughtfully. Just what in the hell were the Bosks and Fletcher up to?

-5-

Before Victory left the vicinity of the gas giant and began approaching the Lolis II, Andros requested the captain’s immediate presence.

Soon, Maddox stood in one of the most heavily guarded locations in the starship. Andros and he were alone before the first cylinder of the ancient Adok computers that made up Galyan.

“There,” Andros used a stubby finger to point at a burnt, fused area of alien computer circuitry. “That’s where it started. The entire section is gone. There are other destroyed areas as well. I’m not sure what it all means. If we simply can’t communicate with Galyan, or if Galyan is down temporarily—or down for good.”

Maddox stared at Andros in disbelief. “For good? You mean dead?”

“Possibly.”

Maddox blinked rapidly. “There are more destroyed areas?”

“Linked to this one,” Andros said.

“What am I looking at here?”

“Something that hasn’t needed replacing in six thousand years.”

“How could this have happened?” Maddox asked.

“I have no idea other than saying a massive overload started burning out circuitry.”

“Could something on the enemy ship have caused it?”

“I have no idea how,” Andros said. “There are safeguards in place against such a thing, but what other explanation is there?”

“Can you replace the destroyed parts?”

“I told you there are more areas than just this, but this one is bad enough.” Andros stared at the cylinder. “It would help if Ludendorff were here— Sir, Galyan needs an entire overhaul and rebuild. How can I replicate ancient Adok-Builder technology? If I could—and I can’t—how could I ensure that Galyan’s personality and memories remained intact?”

“What are you saying?”

“What I said before. Galyan could already be dead.”

Maddox stared at the first damaged cylinder. No. He refused to accept that. Galyan was nearly indestructible. How could this have happened through his holoimage? What were they dealing with out there? An unexpected feeling of panic welled in the captain’s chest. He refused to let it grow, refused to accept the death of the ancient AI.

He turned on Andros, about to speak harshly. Instead, quietly but intensely, he asked, “Aren’t there any spares aboard ship for this kind of thing?”

“Maybe,” Andros said, “but I have no idea where they’re hidden.”

Maddox inhaled deeply. “Listen to me, Andros. It’s simple. You’ll have to replace all the destroyed areas. You start with this one and keep repairing. You do the best you can because you can’t do any more than that.”

“Oh, sure, that sounds reasonable. But these parts…” Andros shook his head. “There’s nothing like them in Human Space.”

“Improvise.”

Panic showed in Andros’s eyes. “Galyan could already be dead. If he isn’t—”

Maddox grabbed a fistful of Andros’s garment, hoisting him higher. “Don’t say that. Fix him. You fix him.”

“Sir… I’ll do what I can. But if I do it wrong…it could mean no more Galyan.”

“Then do it right,” Maddox said, releasing the Chief Technician.

Andros’s face grew pale as he stared at his shoes.

Maddox relented and put a hand on the Kai-Kaus’s left shoulder. “You’re the only one here that has a chance at doing it right.”

Andros looked up like a frightened rabbit. “What if my repairs kill him?”

“Is replacing this first area that hard?”

“I’ll have to make the part first. That means I have to figure out what it did and how it did it. We need Ludendorff, sir.”

“He’s not here. You are. How long would it take for you to fabricate the part?”

“Weeks…months, I have no idea.”

Maddox bared his teeth. This was a disaster. This was a— “Would it help to know how the Bosks did this to Galyan?”

“If they did this, I don’t see how, but if they did… Yes, very much.”

Maddox took his hand away as something bleak and stern hardened on his face. “Get started on this, Andros. Do your best and take as much time as you need. Galyan has seen us out of some hard spots. We’re going to do the same for him.”

“Yes, sir, if he’s still—yes, sir.”

Maddox whirled around and started for the bridge. Along the way, Meta intercepted him.

His wife was a platinum blonde, voluptuous and stronger than most men, as she’d been genetically modified and had grown up on a two-G planet. She was also startlingly beautiful in her specially tailored Star Watch uniform.

“How’s Galyan?” Meta asked.

Maddox gave a terse rundown on Galyan and Andros.

“But that’s horrible,” Meta said.

Maddox nodded curtly.

What’s the next move?” she asked.

“We board the Lolis II. We find out how and what the Bosks did to Galyan.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Maddox glanced at her.

“I’ve spoken to Valerie. She’s worried for you.”

“Me?” Maddox asked.

“She listened to the exchange between you and Commodore Jasken—”

“The Bosk is no commodore.”

“Valerie says this is a black ops Intelligence vessel. The Lord High Admiral backs it.”

“The last was Jasken’s claim.” Maddox halted and put his hands on Meta’s shoulders. “Do you think I should tread lightly with the hauler?”

“I do,” Meta said, studying her husband. “I know you’re worried about Galyan. But remember, Cook is no longer in charge. Mary is no longer there to soften the schemes and resentment against you back at headquarters. Fletcher never liked you, either.”

“I saved Fletcher’s life more than once.”

“Darling, that makes some men hate you more—those with great pride like Fletcher, for instance.”

“What about Galyan?”

“Surely Andros can repair him in time.”

“He’s a miracle-worker, but Andros isn’t a Builder. He’s right. We need Ludendorff, and even then, that might not be enough. Or we need to find spare Adok-Builder parts for Galyan.”

“All we can do is our best.”

Maddox bared his teeth again. He didn’t want to hear that. He wanted success, not just his best. Winning was the only thing. He concentrated. He couldn’t mourn Galyan right now. To fix the AI—

Maddox turned away, thinking, and then faced Meta again. “Why did Stokes send us the original message?”

Meta didn’t shift her thinking quite as fast, but soon she said, “Political infighting seems the most likely reason. It happens all the time. People are jockeying for position and power under the new Lord High Admiral.”

“No. That’s not like Stokes.”

“You’re wrong,” Meta said. “That’s not like you. But almost no one else thinks like you.”

“Which is why Stokes sent me the message,” Maddox said. “He knows I’ll do what needs doing.”

Once more, Meta searched his face. “Darling, all I’m asking is for you to consider the possibility that Stokes might be using you, setting you up for a fall. He’s never been that fond of you, either. You darted him in his office not so long ago.”

“Okay. Maybe you’re right. But tell me this then. Why are Bosks running a black ops mission for Star Watch, a mission with hidden technology able to short or possibly destroy Galyan from a distance?”

“I don’t know. It’s strange. I admit.”

“Come,” he said, turning her with a hand on her arm. “Maybe I can bluff Jasken into telling us what’s really going on.”

“Oh, Maddox,” Meta said with real fear. “One of these days you’ll go too far. You needed Cook. He was a safety net for you. We don’t know how Fletcher operates yet.”

“Less talk, more walk,” Maddox said, propelling her along.

He knew his wife had a point about Stokes and the new Lord High Admiral. But surely even Fletcher would realize that his unorthodox methods had produced countless results. Star Watch owed him something. He would take that something as license to play his hunches and keep doing what he did best. He was the di-far, after all.

A tight smile stretched Maddox’s lips. It didn’t match the stern look in his eyes. What had the Bosks done to Galyan? It was time to find out.

-6-

Three hundred thousand kilometers separated the two spaceships. They both drifted in the dense particle cloud as they faced each other.

The Class-3 hauler was big, a huge rectangular-shaped merchant ship. Yet, as big as it was, Victory was bigger. The starship also vastly out-powered, outgunned and out-armored the hauler. It also possessed a far superior shield. The hauler’s black hull lacked heavy armor, but it did stop Victory’s scanners from telling what was inside it.

So-called Commodore Jasken had not stowed the Q-gun. It was hot and locked onto Victory. Maddox had not yet made good on his threat to take out the gun for Jasken. But the mighty disrupter cannon was aimed at the Q-gun.

Victory had faced Bosk Q-ships before. At that time, Maddox had learned from Galyan that a Q-ship, also known as a Q-boat, decoy vessel, special service ship or mystery ship, had been a heavily armed merchant ship with concealed weapons. The first known use of a Q-ship had been in the 1670s on Earth, Pre-Space Age. The HMS Kingfisher had been specially designed to counter the attack of Algerian corsairs or pirates in the Mediterranean by masquerading as a merchantman, hiding her armaments behind false bulkheads. The most notable use of Q-ships had occurred during World War I. Then, they were supposed to lure German submarines into making surface attacks. That gave a Q-ship the chance to open fire and sink the subs.

The Bosks had used the idea when they’d worked for Methuselah Man Strand and later Lord Drakos.

Now, a hidden weapon—a Q-gun—had been installed in the hauler. This cannon, according to Valerie’s scan, was a regular fusion cannon, a higher-class weapon, to be sure. Unless the Bosks could unleash unheard-of power, though, it would be useless against Victory.

So, why had the Bosk kept the cannon out, hot and locked-on? That’s what Maddox wanted to know.

He sat in his command chair, and made a subtle finger move. An instant later, Commodore Jasken appeared on the main screen. The Bosk cocked his head, no doubt listening to someone, and turned abruptly to the screen.

Jasken straightened. “This farce has gone on long enough, Captain. I demand that you escort us to the Laumer Point. We’re behind schedule. Several battleships will soon begin looking for us.”

“Uh-huh,” Maddox said, sounding unimpressed. “We can test that, of course. Perhaps we’ll remain here for a week or more.”

A momentary stricken look crossed Jasken’s dour features, until he said, “I think not, Captain.”

Maddox held up a hand. “Sir, this is elementary. I’m about to destroy your cannon.”

“That’s fine with me, Captain, as that will prove you assaulted us. My records will show I told you exactly who we are.”

“What’s in your cargo hold?”

“That’s none of your concern, Captain. Now, will you move aside or not?”

Maddox did not respond.

“This is getting wearisome,” Jasken said.

“Lock onto his fusion cannon,” Maddox said, still staring at the Bosk.

“Wait,” Jasken said. “Can you wait just a damned minute?” A trickle of sweat had appeared on his face.

“Oh, I can wait,” Maddox said. “Care to tell me why I should?”

Jasken licked his lips. His former arrogance and assurance had disappeared. “You have no idea what forces you’re trying to thwart.”

Maddox just continued to stare.

“I cannot tell you,” Jasken said. “If it was permitted, don’t you think I would have already done so?”

“It’s your funeral,” Maddox said with a shrug.

That actually caused the Bosk’s lower lip to tremble. “Now…now look here, Captain.”

“I’m done waiting,” Maddox said. “Unless, of course, you can give me a hint about what this is about.”

“Huh?”

“I realize you cannot say directly,” Maddox told him. “Give me a hint then.”

“I…I want to. Believe me, I do.”

Maddox kept his features even, but the change in the Bosk’s behavior and features had startled him. Why was the man so afraid? It was positively un-Bosk-like.

Jasken looked down at his thick hands and suddenly looked up. He had agonized features. Those hardened a moment later. “I have my orders, sir.”

“No hint? Not even a little clue?”

The Bosk’s nostrils flared as anger filled his eyes.

“Take out the fusion cannon,” Maddox said sharply.

The Bosk’s eyelids fluttered, horrified, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.

On Victory, a whine began deep inside the starship. Then, a quick yellow burst from the disrupter cannon lashed out, striking the enemy’s fusion cannon.

The screen showing Commodore Jasken flickered off. In its place was the black-hulled, rectangular hauler. A flare of light showed the exploding fusion cannon. Then—

“I’m showing a massive energy spike,” Valerie said as she studied her panel.

“Get Jasken back online,” Maddox said.

“The spike—” Valerie said, moaning softly afterward.

Maddox looked back at her. Then, a fantastic flare of light starkly brightened everything on the bridge.

Maddox looked back as he squinted at the main screen. The Lolis II was exploding, the black hull flying like grenade shrapnel in all directions. An antimatter fireball consumed much of the interior hauler as heat, EMP and hard radiation ballooned outward.

Andros was back at his station and had already strengthened Victory’s shield. The black-hull shrapnel pieces never made it to the starship. The antimatter fireball consumed the hull pieces before they flew ten thousand kilometers. The shock of heat, EMP and hard radiation struck the starship’s shield, turning it pink, red and darker brown.

“Compensating,” Andros said, as he manipulated his board. “The shield is holding, sir.”

Maddox sat dumbfounded in his chair, with Commodore Jasken’s former fear reactions now becoming perfectly clear. The Bosk had known the fusion cannon was rigged. He’d known he was going to die by suicide. Yet, how could his cargo be that precious? Wouldn’t the Bosk want to trade the knowledge of the cargo for his life?

No. Clearly, the explosion out there proved that Jasken and maybe the others had been willing to give their lives to hide the secret.

Stokes might know what this was about. Maybe Galyan had learned. But for now, Maddox was perplexed.

“This is awful,” Valerie said. “We destroyed a Star Watch vessel.”

Maddox faced her. “No. They self-destructed.”

“Yes, because we fired on them.”

“We told them what we were going to do.” Maddox scowled, angry with himself for having to explain it to Valerie.

The captain turned back to the main screen. What was the correct course now? Part of him wanted to head straight for Jarnevon, the Bosk Homeworld. He realized he could not. He needed to get back to Earth and report this. Maybe it would be wisest to report first to Stokes. Maybe then, he could learn what was going on.

***

Victory initiated a star-drive jump, leaving the Tau Ceti System.

Two and a half hours later, a small stealth corvette moved from its location in the thickest dust particles in the Tau Ceti System. It had been here watching, and it had recorded everything.

With its passive scanners drinking in data from all directions, the stealth craft accelerated for the nearest Laumer Point.

The vessel’s captain had to reach Earth as fast as he could. This was priority news, as the action here could jeopardize the entire project. This would also be an excellent opportunity for getting rid of Maddox. He had to get this information to Becker as quickly as he could.

-7-

Victory reached Earth orbit, but it turned out that Brigadier Stokes had no interest in speaking to anyone from the starship. Worse, Andros’s ancient Adok computer repairs moved at a crawl. The only bright point was the detection of energy deep inside the last two cylinders. It could mean Galyan was alive in there, his personality, engrams and memories still viable.

Maddox, Meta, Andros and the others all clung to that hope. The captain had to set that aside for now, however. He had a decision to make and finally came to his conclusion. Instead of secretly reporting to Stokes about the Lolis II, he wrote a report and logged it through regular, official channels.

It was all very frustrating, and there was an air of unreality to the whole thing. Maddox decided to deal with the problem directly and went downstairs to Geneva, attempting to speak to the new Lord High Admiral.

That didn’t work, as old man Fletcher was too busy to see him.

Maddox left headquarters, and his neck started itching almost immediately. He took a different turn on a city sidewalk. Instead of heading back to the spaceport and his waiting shuttle, he headed deeper into Geneva.

The reason for his itch quickly became apparent. Maddox concentrated and realized he’d only half-noticed a spy-stick watching him from the sky. It was a tiny aerial device. Usually they worked in triplets. He decided to ditch the stick through the normal means, switching routes here, ducking through stores or shops there and keeping out of any surveillance cameras placed throughout the city.

He felt a “tail” twenty minutes later. The reflection from a shop window showed him that a human tracker—an athletic man dressed as a tourist—was following him. Likely, that meant there were others working with the tracker. Was the tracker part of an Intelligence team or some Bosk organization?

Maddox set a trap for his tracker, moving to a bad part of town and sprinting ahead, dashing into a dingy alley and rousting a drunk. He took the half-asleep man’s ragged coat and hat, stuffing the newly injected sleeper into a bin. He’d also stuffed a few credit notes into the drunk’s pockets. Likely, the man would buy more drugs or drink with the credits—

Maddox let his mind go blank as he shivered against a wall, the dirty hat crammed low on his head as he sat with the filthy coat around him and hugged himself. He let himself become the derelict. It was funny, but some folks thought that in the modern Space-Age world, there shouldn’t be any bums. That was not how human nature operated, though. Give people a choice, and some choose to throw their lives away with drugs, drink or dissolution.

Hurried footsteps told Maddox the tracker was in the alley. The captain continued shivering as he watched the shoed feet walk toward him. Finally, the tracker stopped.

“Hey, you bum, did you see anyone come this way?”

Maddox kept shivering, holding his threadbare, dirty coat around him.

The tracker kicked one of Maddox’s feet. “I asked you a—”

Maddox looked up as the astonished, tourist-disguised agent reached for a gun under his jacket. Something had given Maddox away. The agent seemed Earth-normal: clean, well-trained, and slow as hell. He took his time fumbling out the silenced pistol.

Time seemed to halt for Maddox. There was so much he wanted to know. The agent was slow but just fast enough to skip back as Maddox tried to trip him. The agent would not stop, but kept dragging out the weapon.

With lightning speed, Maddox drew his blaster and fired.

The agent grunted, releasing his silenced gun. He crumpled to the ground with a thud, dead.

Maddox launched himself at the man, felt the body and grabbed a wallet. Then, he was up and moving, taking the dirty hat and coat with him. He stuffed that in a garbage bin two blocks later.

He kept waiting for sirens to go off. That had been an Intelligence operative, or a man impersonating one. As he walked fast, Maddox studied the wallet, the ID. This was a Star Watch operative all right.

Why would the man have tried to murder him then?

“Maddox!”

The captain whirled around, ready to draw his blaster and fire a second time. He saw Stokes step out from a doorway. The brigadier must be under deep cover: he wasn’t smoking a stimstick. Stokes was middle-sized, had a goatee and a rabbit’s ease of blending in. He wore a hat and coat like any tourist.

Maddox reached him, and they walked together, with Stokes turning into a narrow alley.

“Did you just have an operative try to assassinate me?” Maddox asked.

“No. Why would you think that?”

Maddox gave Stokes a quick rundown of what had happened.

“It’s worse than I thought,” Stokes said after listening “It’s already started. What did you find in Tau Ceti?”

Maddox stared at him in disbelief.

“If you made a regular channel report,” Stokes said, “it’s already gone.” The brigadier snapped his fingers. “Vanished into thin air, as they used to say.”

A cold feeling settled upon Maddox. He told Stokes the story in the shortest amount of words and time possible. “Does that make sense to you?” he finished.

“Galyan is out?” Stokes asked.

Maddox nodded curtly.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe Andros can still repair him.”

“Maybe,” Maddox snapped.

Stokes eyed him anew. “Did you hear or learn anything about Nostradamus?”

“The old-world prophet?” asked Maddox.

“No, the name I told you about,” Stokes said.

“No. Should I have heard?”

“I was hoping… It doesn’t matter now. They must already know what happened out there.”

“Who must already know?” asked Maddox.

Stokes gave him a weary look. “There’s a conspiracy afoot. I don’t know the ramifications yet, but it has to do with this Nostradamus.”

“And Bosks?” asked Maddox.

“Maybe, but I don’t know. Fletcher is already changing Star Watch, including Intelligence. He’s started compartmentalizing everything. He says it’s so we all march together in the legion as one.”

“What does that mean?”

Stokes halted and looked up at Maddox. “It means you’d better watch yourself. I took a terrible chance using the Builder comm device to contact you earlier. I didn’t log my use.”

“I can change my log on Victory easily enough. Unless you’re trying to set me up.”

“No…” Stokes said. “I just know that all my instincts are telling me something bad has happened. Your grandmother once told me to trust those gut feelings. I’ve seen too many Bosks lately, and I kept hearing the word Nostradamus whispered. It’s a code word; I’d stake my reputation on that. Captain, watch your back. I don’t think they like you much.”

“Who doesn’t like me?”

“Whoever is behind all this. If you were ever going to do one of your di-far miracles, this is the time for it.”

Maddox nodded stiffly.

“It’s a new day, a new Lord High Admiral,” Stokes said. “Maybe this is a Lisa Meyers job, but somehow, I don’t think so.”

Maddox’s neck began to itch. “The spy-sticks are back. We’d better split up. I hope you’re on the level, Brigadier. I can’t work against everyone.”

Without waiting for a reply, Maddox started in one direction, Stokes in the other. It was time to get back to Victory and do some hard thinking.

If ever he needed Galyan, and Ludendorff, too, this was the time.

-8-

Lord High Admiral Fletcher was hunched over his desk in his office at Geneva. He’d changed in a dramatically short time. He had a gaunt appearance. There was no getting around that. But he’d filled out since wasting away at his house in Maui.

Fletcher wore a white uniform, had thin, dyed black hair, and must have gained thirty pounds already. He was tall and no longer stooped, but sometimes he collapsed into bed at night. Others considered him rail thin, but his capacity for work approached the phenomenal.

His veined hand scribbled with a computer stylus on a large slate. His eyes shone as he wrote. He was making changes, by George. He was going to make sure that no New Man, Swarm bug, android, or Methuselah Man or Woman was going to infiltrate his Star Watch. There would be checks and balances, over-watches, guards, political commissars, several competing Intelligence organizations, Space Marines ready to roll, guardian warships and a team dedicated to outthinking the alien enemies.

Fletcher sat back as sweat glistened on his face. He trembled, breathing heavily. He needed to remember to eat and drink and take his medications. He had to keep healthy. He’d come to realize that no one else had his vision for what mankind could do. United in one purposeful group, like a trained legion, humanity would wipe the stars of all competitors.

Nostradamus would keep helping, of course. According to the reports, Nostradamus would continue growing in sophistication and predictive power. Let Lisa Meyers attempt to screw with humanity. Let the Swarm bugs start their next set of invasions. And as for the New Men…

Fletcher grinned as he rubbed his big, veined hands together. His great hope and joy would be in outsmarting the golden-skinned New Men and retrieving all those weeping women the enemy had kidnapped so many years ago already. He would bring them all home, and in doing so, he would wipe away the worst stain to his name as a field commander.

Oh, he often thought about that. Yes, he even dreamed about it at night. And in the mornings when it was hard to drag himself out of bed, he thought about it then, too.

“What’s this?” he said in a raspy voice. He noticed a red light on his desk. It kept blinking. How long had it been doing that?

He pressed a button.

“There’s an officer to see you,” his secretary said.

“If it’s Captain Maddox, I already told you—”

“No, Admiral,” the woman said. “It’s Captain Becker.”

“Who?” he asked.

“Becker, sir,” she said. “He says it’s urgent.”

“Do I know a Becker?”

“You’ve seen him twice before, sir,” his secretary said, sounding worried.

It was the worry in her voice that moved Fletcher. He forgot things these days. It was troubling. He had to hide it better.

“Yes, yes, Captain Becker. Send the young man in. I’d be delighted to see him.”

Fletcher threw down the stylus and concentrated so he wouldn’t scowl. He folded his long arms and felt the ribs under his sweat-dampened shirt. What in blazes did this Becker want with him? He’d actually seen—

The door opened. A small pallid man in a black Intelligence uniform entered. He was narrow-shouldered, but there was something immensely powerful surrounding him, an aura of terrible purpose.

Fletcher looked up into the man’s eyes. They radiated intensity, and positively swirled with dark powers.

“Yes?” Fletcher asked.

“Sir,” the secretary said, who towered behind the small captain. “This is the man—”

Becker raised a hand, and she ceased speaking as sharply as if he’d punched her in the gut.

The secretary was a tall, older gray-haired lady, who still possessed much of her youthful slenderness and beauty. She wore a conservative knee-length dress with low heels. She doted on the Lord High Admiral and had summoned security more than once.

“I’ll speak with him alone,” Becker said softly.

“Of course,” the secretary said. “I meant no disrespect.”

“None taken,” Becker said, turning, staring at her.

She touched her hair, smiling shyly before retreating.

Becker walked through the door, shutting it behind him.

“Do I know you?” Fletcher asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Becker said.

“I feel I should know you. Ms. Livy thinks so, too.”

Becker sat in a chair. “Lord High Admiral, we have a problem.”

“It is because I don’t remember you?” Fletcher touched his forehead. “I feel a dull throb. It hurts, and the pain is growing. I don’t know how, but I think you’re causing that.”

“You’re fine,” Becker said, staring fixedly at the bigger, older man. “There is no pain.”

“Well, how about that,” Fletcher said, smiling. “The pain just vanished. And…” He peered closely at Becker. “I have a vague recollection of you. You’re some kind of doctor, or miracle-worker. Am I right?”

“Not this time, I’m afraid. I’m Captain Becker. I work in Star Watch Intelligence.”

“It’s not going to be a single, monolithic organization much longer,” Fletcher said. “That’s too easy to infiltrate. I want competing Intelligence agencies watching each other. One of them will be the Political Division. They’ll run the military police and possibly have commissars on the starships.”

“Sounds interesting,” Becker said.

“You’re in Intelligence. Would you like to run the Political Division?”

“I’m only a captain.”

“I could raise you in rank.”

The slightest of smirks appeared on Becker’s lips. “Thank you, Lord High Admiral. But I’m afraid I must decline the offer.”

“Oh. Well, that’s too bad, as you’d be perfect. For one thing, I have implicit trust in your reliability.”

“You honor me, sir.”

“I feel I should reward you. I feel you’ve greatly helped me and helped humanity through Star Watch.”

Becker cleared his throat.

“Ah,” Fletcher said. “Sorry. You wanted to tell me something important.”

“Sir, you put me in charge of security regarding…Nostradamus.”

“I did?” Fletcher’s eyelids fluttered. “Yes, yes, of course, I did. How is that going?”

“Overall, we’re making progress. But there’s been a hitch.”

“I don’t like hearing that.”

“Sir, Nostradamus is the greatest predictive equipment in the galaxy.”

“And, it’s ultra-top secret,” Fletcher said. “No one must ever learn about it.”

Becker nodded. “I knew you would understand. May I say, sir, that you have an intuitive grasp of the topic?”

“You flatter me, young man, and I do not need flattering. I need time to implement the changes to Star Watch that will cause us to act in unison like a legion under command. We will march over every obstacle that threatens humanity.”

“A splendid plan, sir. It makes sense.”

“Thank you,” Fletcher said.

“But as I was starting to say…” Becker’s eyes shone, truly shone, and something seemed to pass from him to Fletcher.

It caused the Lord High Admiral to straighten rigidly. He did not blink. He did not breathe. He did not move in the slightest.

Becker lurched to his feet, keeping his gaze fixed on the admiral. The small captain put his extremely pale hands on the far edge of the desk. He leaned toward the admiral. Despite his diminutive size, there was a dangerously predatory aspect to his stare and posture.

“Star Watch needs data,” Becker said in a reverberating voice, one filled with power. “We must learn about our enemies and potential enemies. In this instance, we must learn everything we can about the Erills.”

“Huh?” Fletcher said, as drool dribbled down his chin.

“Read the secret Intelligence report about them, Admiral. You must send the only man possible who can study them. Captain Maddox must walk the City of Pyramids and take some of the ancient alien equipment. He must return with that equipment to Earth. In that way, our best analysts can calculate the Erills’ next possible moves.”

“Through Nostradamus?” asked Fletcher.

“You must never mention that name to others.”

Woodenly, Fletcher nodded.

“You must speak to Captain Maddox and personally give him his new orders. He must leave at once and remain in the Erill System until you call him back with the Long-Range Builder comm device.”

“There are some who will think that’s a bad idea,” Fletcher intoned. “They’ll think Maddox should remain here, in the center of things.”

“You are the Lord High Admiral. You make the decisions, not them.”

If it was possible, Fletcher straightened even more in pride and dignity.

“Don’t let anyone sidetrack you, sir. Maddox is a hero. This is a hero’s task. He will understand. And if Maddox doesn’t, and dies out there, possibly in a gruesome manner, then he wasn’t the man we thought he was. If that happens, he won’t be able to nose around where he shouldn’t, and we no longer have to worry about his interference.”

“Makes sense,” Fletcher muttered.

“This move will also help you consolidate your hold on Star Watch. There are those who are going to resist the changes. Roll over them, sir, knowing that you’re going to get an upwelling of public support in time. But for now, your bulldog determination will flatten all opposition. After all, you’re the new Lord High Admiral, and you have to establish your authority if you’re really running the show.”

Fletcher slammed the desk with one of his veined hands. “Damned straight, son. That’s the kind of talk I like to hear.”

Becker stumbled backward and collapsed onto the chair. He seemed winded and diminished. He took a deep breath and worked to compose himself.

Fletcher straightened, leaning back in his chair. He breathed heavily, and there was sweat on his face. His color didn’t look so good either.

“I don’t feel so well,” Fletcher said.

Becker stared at him with hooded orbs.

Fletcher opened a drawer and took out a handkerchief, using it to wipe the spittle from his chin and dab the sweat from his pale features.

“Feel really tired all of a sudden. I think it’s time for a nap.”

“Yes,” Becker said. “Regain your strength. Then, summon Captain Maddox.”

Fletcher studied the Intelligence captain. “Your time is up, sir. I have work to do. No one lives forever, you know.”

Becker’s eyebrows rose suspiciously, and a shadow of fear passed over his face. The expression faded seconds later. With a grunt and a heave, Becker pushed himself out of the chair. He saluted.

Fletcher picked up a stylus and hunched over a slate. He waved the captain away. He was tired and needed a nap. First, he would finish this memo. He had so much work to do and so little time to do it in.

He’d almost forgotten about Maddox. Fletcher pressed a switch.

“Yes, Admiral?” Ms. Livy asked through the intercom.

“I want you to set up an urgent appointment with Captain Maddox.”

There was silence.

Fletcher scowled. “Did you hear me?”

“Y-Yes,” she stammered. “You want to speak to him now?”

“At once,” Fletcher said. “Well, after I’ve napped. Make it in three hours, in my office.”

“Yes, Admiral,” she said. “Is there anything else?”

Fletcher stared at the intercom. How could he tell her that there were a million things he needed to do? He was so busy, so swamped—

He clicked off the intercom.

“I love it,” Fletcher said in the silence. “I’m in my element.” He’d heard someone else say that before. He realized it fit for him. As soon as he finished this memo he’d take a nap, and then speak to that young whippersnapper Maddox. He had the perfect mission for the so-called hero of Star Watch.

-9-

Maddox sat in the office of the Lord High Admiral. It was Cook’s old office, but with none of the furniture and a different occupant.

James K. Fletcher was just as tall as ever, but he’d aged horribly and lost weight since the last time Maddox had seen him. The man had every physical evidence of age and weariness. Yet, his mannerisms and movements were those of a younger, healthy Fletcher.

The dichotomy struck Maddox as odd. He didn’t dwell on it, though. It must be drugs or rehabilitation therapy giving Fletcher the strength.

“I imagine you heard about the assassination attempt against me,” Maddox said.

“What attempt?” asked Fletcher.

Maddox told him about it.

“Here in the city?” Fletcher asked, surprised.

Maddox nodded.

“Just a minute,” Fletcher said. “This is an outrage.” The admiral pressed an intercom button. “Yes, Ms. Livy, I want you to check a report.” He told her. Then, he clicked the switch and sat back, regarding the captain.

Maddox wanted to launch into the tale of the Lolis II and Commodore Jasken, but he waited. He wanted to see how the first report went.

“Captain,” Fletcher said. “I called you here because I’ve come to a decision.” He stared at Maddox. “We’ve had our differences in the past. But we’ve also worked together for the good of Star Watch.”

“Thank you, sir,” Maddox said.

“That wasn’t easy for you, was it?”

“Admiral?”

“Thanking me.”

“I have no problem expressing my gratitude.”

Fletcher’s features tightened. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your wretched heritage. The foul New Men—their blood and ways pump through you, is that not so?”

“Mary O’Hara is my grandmother.”

“She’s a fine lady. She made an excellent brigadier of Intelligence. We had to cashier her, of course. She’d become a liability. She’d compromised Star Watch, and we can’t have that, son. No, it’s out of the question if we’re going to survive the new era.”

Maddox grew still as the admiral spoke. A close observer could have seen Maddox practice his Pilgrim breathing. His eyes also seemed to drink in every detail as his ears soaked up the words and sounds around him.

“I admire how you’ve forged ahead in Star Watch even with your traitorous blood always getting in the way. I’m referring to your New Man heritage, of course. O’Hara—she allowed others to capture and misuse her. It was because she trusted that scoundrel Ludendorff. I find her actions unconscionable, really. One would have thought she would commit suicide before she allowed the enemy to use her as a tool against our beloved Star Watch.”

Maddox continued to Pilgrim breathe and listen.

“Don’t think you fool me, son. I can see the fires rage in your heart. Traitors on the left of you and traitors on the right—no wonder you work so hard. You hope to establish without a doubt that you’re loyal to Star Watch.”

Fletcher put both veined hands on the desk. His voice dripped with sincerity. “I admire fortitude. I admire your combat skills and quick thinking. Some people think you fly by the seat of your pants. They don’t realize you will do anything to achieve victory. I’ve seen it myself. I’ve felt the good results your hard work brought. You’re a hero, Captain Maddox, a true-blue action hero who fights for truth and justice. Am I right or am I right?”

“Your words take my breath away, sir.”

Fletcher pointed a big old index finger at Maddox. “Ahhh, I know what you just did. You’re a sly young devil. No one can bandy words like you. I would call you a veritable word-fencer, sir.”

“Lord High Admiral, are you feeling all right?”

Fletcher cocked his head. “That’s an interesting question. No, not one hundred percent. I feel a pain here sometimes.” He touched his forehead. “And you can’t believe how tired I am in the middle of the day.” The old man shrugged. “I’m a workhorse, son, just like you. We pull the traces no matter what kind of job it is. We get it done.”

Maddox nodded slowly.

Fletcher cleared his throat. He scowled, rubbing the spot where he’d indicated pain.

Maddox watched, witnessing a change come over the old man.

Fletcher’s hand dropped away from his forehead. His color became pale and his breathing shallow. As the color slowly returned, so did the Lord High Admiral’s demeanor.

“Maddox,” the admiral said, sounding surprised. “What are you doing here…?” the words trailed off. “Oh, right. I’m giving you a new assignment.” Fletcher studied the captain. “I read about the Erill Incident. It happened six months ago, didn’t it?”

“More or less,” Maddox said.

“Uh-huh,” Fletcher said. He picked up a computer slate and clicked pages. He read for a time until he dropped the slate. Then, he peered closely at Maddox. “There’s a problem. This Erill in you—”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” Maddox said. “It isn’t in me.”

Fletcher indicated the slate. “According to the after-action report, it healed your so-called soul wound.”

“It did.”

“And you fought this Erill in your mind?”

“In my id, sir.”

“Same difference,” Fletcher said. “You used some kind of Builder symbol embedded in your soul to defeat it.”

Maddox shifted in his chair.

“You don’t like how that sounds?” asked Fletcher.

“Only that it’s incorrect.”

“I see. Very well, Captain. Tell me about it.”

“I sustained a soul-wound, in lieu of a better word, when I fought the spiritual entity Ska in the Alpha Centauri System.”

“That was at the end of the initial Swarm Invasion?”

Maddox nodded. “The wound drained energy and life essence from me. Six months ago, we chanced upon the Erills. One of them attacked our shuttle. I defeated it. I killed it and absorbed its power.”

“And it was a spiritual entity?”

“Yes, sir,” Maddox said.

“Like a demon in the Bible?”

“I’ve never met a demon, sir, so I don’t know.”

“Don’t get smart with me, son. We’re flesh and blood. These Erills and Ska are spiritual. I don’t see how flesh and blood can kill a spiritual entity. That means it’s dwelling inside you.”

“You’re wrong, Admiral. That’s what the Builder symbol allowed. I killed it with the symbol on the kind of playing field where I could face it openly—in my id.”

“Sounds mystical,” Fletcher said.

“I think you mean, full of crap, sir.”

“That, too,” Fletcher said, his gaze hard on Maddox.

“Be that as it may,” Maddox said, “the Builders, or someone, at least, have seeded the Erill System with billions of lurker missiles. The Builders must have figured these full-of-shit creatures were dangerous.”

Fletcher gave him a mean smile. “I’ll play along, Captain. In fact, let’s suppose you’re right. According to the report, there’s an entire planet of these Erills just waiting to flood our galaxy.”

“A city full of them,” Maddox corrected.

Fletcher nodded, as if to say, “Thanks.” He leaned back afterward, picking up a computer stylus and tapping it against his chest as he stared at Maddox. “Star Watch has endless enemies. We have to prepare. We have to act wisely. That’s part of the reason we have the Patrol Arm of Star Watch. And it’s one of the reasons we have an Intelligence branch. It so happens that you belong to both.”

Maddox waited for it, seeing now how neatly Fletcher had outmaneuvered him. He’d thought the old man was addled or something. Now, he was beginning to think that Fletcher was far more cunning than he’d ever known.

“That’s why I’m sending you back to the Erill System,” Fletcher said. “We’ll make that its official name. You can come up with a name for the planet holding the City of Pyramids. Anyway, if you have this Erill energy in you, and if you have a way to slay these spiritual-entity creatures, then you’re the only one, by George, who can dare go back to the planet. Descend to the city. Plunder its ancient tech. Maybe it can give us something like Victory. Of course, you’ll have to take your crew to the star system. You’re a group of heroes, saviors to Star Watch. I’m giving you another opportunity to shine.”

“So why does it feel that you’re trying to get rid of me?”

Fletcher lurched forward, hurling the stylus at Maddox.

The captain caught it out of the air.

“There!” Fletcher said. “Those are startling reflexes, superlative even. Thus, I stand by what I said: you’re a hero and this is a hero’s task.”

Maddox set the stylus onto the desk. The old man had thrown it at his face, at his right eye. If he hadn’t caught it… Where had Fletcher learned to throw a stylus like that?

“Tell me something,” Fletcher said. “Do you really think you’re di-far?”

“Sir?” asked Maddox, caught off guard again.

“Di-far: a special agent of change.”

Maddox stared at the Lord High Admiral.

Fletcher shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I was just curious. You’re leaving today, son. Pack your things. Take your ship and go. You can call in every six months; let me know how things are going. If you discover something marvelous, call me up on the Builder device. Most all of, though, get me data about the Erills, about the aliens they slaughtered and how those aliens brought the Erills into our dimension. We have to make sure something like that doesn’t happen again.”

Maddox sat there, thinking, realizing this was a new experience for him. The new Lord High Admiral had run circles around him. Maybe Fletcher was the man for the job after all.

Maddox almost asked him about Nostradamus to see what would happen. An intuitive part told him to wait. The first act, the strangest part—what if that hadn’t been an act on Fletcher’s part? It felt like Fletcher was getting rid of Victory. If that was true, what was the right reaction to his new mission?

“Is there anything specific I should try to find?” Maddox asked.

“I already told you.”

“I mean, do you have a gut feeling about what you think I’ll find out there?”

Fletcher’s features stayed the same, but this time, Maddox read the Lord High Admiral perfectly. Fletcher did want something specific: his death out in the Beyond.

It was an intuitive thing, but Maddox was certain about it. There’d been a change in guard at the very top of Star Watch…but unless he wanted to resign his commission, he was going to have to work within the limits of the new assignment and within the limits of having Fletcher as the Lord High Admiral.

Yes, Maddox decided, he would go to the Erill System. Mary O’Hara was his grandmother. She was on Earth and she needed rehabilitation. He would go out there on assignment so he could stay in the loop of Star Watch to help her directly later. While in the Beyond, he would try to figure out what had happened in the Tau Ceti System with the Lolis II. Were the Bosks a new attack from a hidden foe, or from Methuselah Woman Lisa Meyers?

He would remain in Star Watch for another reason. He had to revive Galyan. If Andros couldn’t repair the ancient AI computer—Maddox might have to hunt down Ludendorff or find another means.

The captain stood, saluting Fletcher. He would remain in Star Watch for Mary and Galyan’s sake, the sake of his crew, and because he wanted to figure out this new mystery.

PART II

THE CITY OF PYRAMIDS

-1-

Deep in the Beyond—ninety light-years from the Mira Binary System where Golden Ural had destroyed the last vestige of Thrax’s hybrid Swarm colony—was a star system that Galyan had recommended Maddox visit. The holoimage had recommended the place nine and a half months ago when the captain had still been suffering from the Ska soul-wound. Galyan had believed certain structures here could heal Maddox. The Adok AI had been gravely wrong about the method, but right about the place to seek the healing.

Victory had traveled a long distance, and taken some months to reach the outer Erill System. There had been no communication with Earth from either Stokes or the Lord High Admiral during that time. The captain had taken his time so they could measure the pulse of the places they passed. He had almost headed for Brahma—Doctor Dana Rich’s homeworld. Ludendorff had gone there to find her.

Instead, the captain had followed orders. The Geneva assassination attempt, the exploding Lolis II, Stokes’ worries and Fletcher’s actions… Maddox needed time to think.

During the journey, Andros and his team continued to work on the ancient Adok computers. They’d also scoured the starship for hidden Adok-Builder parts, so far, not having any luck finding them—if they existed.

“If nothing else,” Maddox told Meta, Valerie and Riker one evening, “we can log our time out here.”

“Why does that matter?” asked Meta.

“In case we have to take different measures later,” Maddox said. “The log will show we obeyed orders until we didn’t.”

They were meeting in a ship cafeteria, eating cherry pie and sipping coffee. No one said it anymore, but they all missed Galyan.

As they sat around the table, Meta and Riker glanced at each other.

Treggason Riker was an older man with many bionic parts: one eye, one arm, one leg. He was an Intelligence sergeant, a grouch according to some, and a quick-draw expert with his stunner to others. He had rough old skin and a deep attachment to Maddox, having first met the young man on assignment as a wiser head to keep the hothead in check. That part had never worked out well for Riker. But he’d learned to love the captain like a proud father.

“Is something on your mind?” asked Maddox.

Meta nudged Riker.

The sergeant nodded and cleared his throat. “Sir,” he began. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“No,” Maddox said.

“Why are we really out here?” Riker asked anyway.

“I said no.”

“I know that, sir, but your wife and I would still like to know why we’re out here.”

Maddox glanced from one to the other. Valerie did likewise. She seemed as surprised by the question as the captain.

“We’re here because I’m following orders,” Maddox finally said.

“I know the cover reason,” Riker said patiently. “But what’s the real reason?”

A worried Meta watched her husband closely.

If Maddox noticed, he ignored it. “There’s nothing in particular other than time to repair Galyan. If we can find out from him what happened in the Lolis II…”

“There’s an old saying you might like, sir,” Riker said. “It’s called ‘slinging bull.’ What it really means is shoveling BS as if it’s candy. Many people accept it, but it still stinks.”

“Are you through?” asked Maddox.

“Husband,” Meta said, putting a hand over the one Maddox had lain on the table. “You have a plan. You always do. That you’ve willingly come to such a haunted star system frightens me. I hope you’re not planning to go down to the surface.”

“That would be crazy,” Maddox said.

“Which is not the same as saying no,” Riker pointed out. “That was a neat verbal dodge, sir.”

Maddox glanced at the sergeant.

“Sorry, sir,” Riker said. “But your wife is worried about you.”

“I heard her, thank you,” Maddox said.

“Normally, if you told me to shut up, I’d shut up,” Riker said. “But I can’t watch sweet Meta—”

“Enough,” Maddox said sternly.

Riker finally shut up, although he winked at Meta when she glanced at him.

Maddox noticed, of course, but pretended not to.

“Oh no,” Meta said. “What are you thinking?”

“Well…” Maddox said, facing her. “We’ll study the planet, for one thing.”

“That’s our mission statement,” Valerie said.

“Wrong,” Riker cut in. “The lord almighty high admiral told the captain to go down to the City of Pyramids and grab alien tech.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Meta said. “It would be suicide for anyone to go down there.”

“Anyone but the captain,” Riker said. “Isn’t that right, sir?”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” asked Maddox.

“I’m hard of hearing these days, sir. Need a bionic ear, I figure.”

“I can box you around the ears if that will help you,” Maddox threatened.

“No, no,” Riker said, holding up his hands in mock fear.

“Darling,” Meta said. “Are you seriously considering going down to the alien city?”

“Not seriously,” Maddox said.

One of Meta’s hands flew to her mouth.

“Sir—” Valerie said. “You can’t—”

Maddox sighed. “Listen. Let’s study the planet from a distance. Let’s see if we can contact the Erills—”

“In Heaven’s name, why?” asked Meta.

Maddox didn’t answer.

“Was Fletcher right?” Meta asked. “Is the Erill still alive in you?”

“No,” Maddox said, maybe too sharply.

“Darling, you never told me it could speak to you.”

“Look, look,” Maddox said. “The Erill perished, all right? It’s dead. When I killed it, I absorbed some of its energy. But I think I can communicate with some of the Erills left on the planet. I think I can hear them, at least, at times.”

“A siren song, is it, sir?” asked Riker.

Maddox glared at the sergeant.

The old man held up his hands again. “I’ve said enough. It’s time for me to turn in.”

“Riker, please stay,” Meta said.

The sergeant had stood. He now sat back down. “Sorry, sir,” he told Maddox. “She’s a hundred times prettier than you are. I just can’t seem to say no to her.”

Maddox ignored the sergeant.

“Don’t you see,” Meta was telling Maddox. “That’s what Fletcher and the others are hoping you’ll do. They know you’re too curious and far too confident. They’re hoping you’ll believe yourself invincible with the Builder symbol as backup—that you’ll go down to the planet. You escaped once because you got lucky. They’re hoping your luck fails and you die. They want you dead.”

“I’m aware of that,” Maddox said.

“I don’t think you are,” Meta said. “This time, we lack all insight or knowledge about our enemy. The Lolis II should have proven that to us. Fletcher’s strange behavior, Stokes’ worries—”

“I know,” Maddox said sharply.

Meta fell silent.

Maddox waved a hand in the air. “Maybe we should head for Brahma and pick up Ludendorff. Maybe I should try to contact my uncle.” He meant Golden Ural, cousin to the Emperor of the Throne World.

“Both are better ideas than you going down to the planet,” Meta urged. “You barely survived a ride across the surface. We barely survived it.”

Nine and a half months ago, Riker and Meta had been taking him to the City of Pyramids. They’d thought something down there could heal him. Then, an Erill had flown up from the city, entering the shuttle and Maddox, causing him to assault his wife and the sergeant.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” Maddox said. “We’ll jump as near to the star as we can comfortably stand and study what we can from a distance. Maybe we’ll discover a revelation. Maybe Andros can finally repair Galyan. We’ll give it some time and see what happens before we decide our next move.”

-2-

The G-class star of the Erill System was 1.4 times the size of Sol. It had two terrestrial planets: one in a Venus-like orbit, and the other in a Mars-like orbit. There was a distant asteroid belt in a Neptune-like region at the start of the system’s Kuiper Belt. The majority of approximately three billion space mine-missiles—lurker missiles—were between the inner terrestrial planets. From previous encounters here before the Battle of the Gomez System, they knew the lurker missiles used Orion drives—nuclear explosions—to accelerate fast.

To replenish used missiles, there was a factory in the center of the Lurker Region that looked like a black asteroid twenty-three kilometers long. It was more than possible that was an ancient Builder factory. Reaching it and staying there long enough to explore inside might prove impossible with the billions of lurker missiles ready to smash any intruders.

Thus, Victory remained near the star, using sensors to study the second planet and the City of Pyramids in a vast yellow surface area.

The second planet was a desert world of red and yellow sand and rock a little smaller than Earth. Valerie, Maddox and others used the ship’s scopes to peer at it for hours. The surface pyramids were huge, bigger than any structures on Earth. The pyramids were constructed of massive stone blocks. There were no other apparent structures on the planet, just the mass of pyramids arranged in no particular pattern that any of them could discern.

The days fused together into weeks, but nothing exciting happened. The lurker missiles left the starship alone. No Erills appeared in any visible form on the distant surface and none of the spiritual entities contacted Maddox in any way he could sense. Andros and his team continued to try to repair Galyan, but their process was exceedingly and painfully slow.

Halfway through the allotted time, Maddox called the Lord High Admiral via the Long-Range Builder comm device. Fletcher spoke long enough to tell Maddox not to make any more calls until summoned home. When Maddox asked for reasons, the Lord High Admiral hung up on him.

Victory remained another ten days at its near-star station until boredom and a sense of recklessness caused Maddox to reenter the Builder comm chamber.

It was weird, but it felt that they’d been here longer than a mere few weeks. Meta had agreed, although no one else had felt that.

In the chamber, Maddox picked up the microphone and debated the call. Fletcher had been insistent last time. Maybe, though, if he disobeyed the order, the Lord High Admiral would call him home out of pique.

Maddox clicked the trigger control, making the call. Fletcher didn’t answer. Maddox kept trying. Finally, the Lord High Admiral picked up.

“What is it, son?” Fletcher asked. “Did you finally discover something?”

The mild tone surprised Maddox. He’d expected the Lord High Admiral to rage at him.

“Uh…nothing yet,” Maddox replied.

“So why are you calling me then?”

“Lord High Admiral—”

“Is it because I missed the appointed call?” Fletcher demanded.

“What?”

“Have you become hard of hearing, Captain? I said, are you calling because I missed the appointed time?”

“No, sir. You said you would call every six months.”

“I know very well what I said. Now, look, you can’t imagine the amount of work piling up around me. It’s more than I ever expected. Even with my newfound energy… Are you sure you don’t have something to report? You’ve been out there long enough.”

“We took our time reaching here, sir.”

“You’ve been off exploring, is that it?”

“No…”

“Well what in the hell have you been doing for eighteen months?”

“What?” asked Maddox, dumbfounded by the question.

“Can’t you count, Captain? I sent you out there eighteen months ago. Surely, you’ve figured out something by now.”

Maddox silently mouthed the number. It had taken them a little less than three months to reach the star system. They’d been here a little less than a month. Was Fletcher losing his mind?

“I spoke to you in your office four months ago, sir,” Maddox said.

“That’s a damned lie,” Fletcher said. “I’m looking at my calendar right now. It was last year we met.” He mumbled, maybe counting under his breath. “It was eighteen months in total just like I said.”

Maddox blinked in shock. This was out of left field. Was Fletcher screwing with him or was it something else? “Sir, can I speak to Brigadier Stokes?”

“Whatever for?” Fletcher asked suspiciously.

“I would like to corroborate the supposed passage of eighteen months.”

“No more of your jokes, son,” Fletcher said. “I’m too tired for it. I’ve been working—forget it. Don’t call me unless you find some new alien technology. You can stay out there twenty years, too, until you get the balls to do some real exploring. Fletcher out.”

The connection went dead.

Maddox stared at the microphone in his hand. Could Fletcher be right? He didn’t see how that could be possible.

Maddox reset the main controls for a different Builder set, and clicked the microphone trigger. “This is Captain Maddox of Star Watch calling the Emperor of the Throne World.” He kept at it for a time.

Finally, the Emperor responded.

“Lord Emperor,” Maddox said with deference. “I apologize in advance for bothering you. I’m in the Erill System and have been here almost a month. According to reports, though, a year and a half has passed since I left Earth.”

“Captain Maddox,” the Emperor said in a stately voice. “Your calling me is highly unseemly. Because I’ve recently learned that your father was my cousin, I will refrain from taking action from this slight. I imagine you’re referring to the City of the Pyramids. According to my data, that is a highly unstable star system, as there are temporal fluxes that apparently strike at random. It’s possible the fluxes occur due to ancient alien technology hidden there. Maybe it’s something else. For your father’s sake, I urge you to immediately leave the star system.”

“Thank you, Lord. Do you suppose the Erills can shift time?”

“I’ve never heard of them. But if such creatures can do as you suggest, then I counsel you to flee as fast as you can from there. Now, I have said enough. Go in peace, Captain, but do not call me again.”

The Emperor cut the connection.

Maddox sat there, thinking. It was time to make a decision.

-3-

Maddox could have made the decision himself, but sometimes he liked bouncing ideas off those he trusted. He would have liked to talk to Ludendorff or maybe even Galyan. In a pinch, he would have asked Doctor Dana Rich. In the end, he sought out Andros Crank, as he was the most technically proficient of his remaining crew.

Maddox pulled Andros off the Galyan repairs and took the stout Kai-Kaus to a sensor science station. On the main screen was an aerial shot of the City of Pyramids. Streams of yellow sand snaked between the great monoliths, while red sandstone walls rose up to the east of them.

The two sat as Maddox explained what Fletcher and then the Emperor had said. The owlish Andros kept staring off into the distance. Finally, Maddox stopped talking.

Andros turned to him. “Eighteen months have passed. That’s incredible. We must be in some kind of temporal bubble.”

“A bubble?” asked Maddox.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Andros said. “It doesn’t have to be a bubble. That would be the likeliest shape, though. Time moves slower for us than the rest of the universe. Could this be why the Lord High Admiral sent you out here?”

“I don’t understand.”

“To give himself more time to act without having you around,” Andros said.

“That’s an interesting thought. Maybe he ordered the assassination attempt on Earth and it failed. This was the backup plan.”

“Exactly,” Andros said. “And that might have been the point of the Lolis II. It exploded. Maybe Jasken did it too soon.”

“Right,” Maddox said. “Jasken was supposed to wait until we boarded them. A hypnotic command would move Jasken and boom, end of Maddox and company. Still…sending us out here to simply get us out of the way seems too esoteric.”

“Yet... Could the Lord High Admiral have faked his surprise regarding the passage of time?”

“That’s a good point,” Maddox said. “He was surprised. No. I don’t think he was faking that.”

“We’ve lost eighteen months of normal time.”

“Not quite that long,” Maddox said. “We’ve been out of circulation fourteen months, maybe more like thirteen.”

“The magic number,” Andros said, making a strange, possibly superstitious hand motion.

“Chief Technician, I want your take on the situation. Could the Erills have caused the temporal distortion?”

“If they did, it would indicate they have a way to manipulate physical reality. That would give strictly spiritual entities a newfound power, at least, one we haven’t seen before.”

Maddox tapped his chin. “I don’t think that’s the answer. Maybe the ancient technology that brought the Erills to our dimension is responsible for the temporal distortions. Maybe the Emperor is right, and they happen randomly, or as a side effect.”

“If the distortion became too powerful,” Andros said, “it could trap us here, making it impossible for us to reenter normal time.”

“How would that work?”

Andros grinned sheepishly, shaking his head. “We need Galyan, sir. I know I’m the one who’s supposed to have fixed him. My point is, the location of this star system was in his memory banks from long ago, from six thousand years ago. He must know more about this place than he told us before.”

“Then repair him, dammit!”

Andros spread his pudgy hands. “I would if I could, sir. If it’s any help, I now think he’s alive deep in his computers, but to make him operational again—I suggest we find Ludendorff. The professor would know better than anyone else what to do.”

I can fix Galyan.

Maddox’s head jerked upright at this statement. “You just told me you couldn’t.”

“What’s that?” Andros asked.

“You told me you can’t fix Galyan.”

“I’m still working on it,” Andros said.

“Then why tell me you can fix him?”

Andros stared at Maddox.

“Didn’t you just tell me that?” Maddox asked.

Andros shook his head.

Maddox frowned…turning to the screen. He got up, went to the controls and adjusted the viewing screen. The aerial shot of the City of Pyramids—

“Look!” Andros shouted, pointing at the screen.

Maddox looked up in time to see a glowing ball race from one pyramid to another. Last time, that was how the Erill had appeared before entering the darter in the upper atmosphere.

Galyan’s fate rests in your hands, Captain.

“What did you say?” Maddox asked angrily.

Andros shook his head, and he made another warding gesture. “Are you hearing voices, Captain?”

Maddox ignored the question, as he didn’t like the implications. He peered at the screen, but no more glowing balls appeared near the pyramids or anywhere else.

“Continue trying to repair Galyan,” Maddox said at last. “Tell no one about our meeting.”

“You can count on me, sir,” Andros said.

“I know.” Maddox went to Andros, patting him on a shoulder. “Maybe I’m hearing what I want to hear. We’re in a temporal distortion. Maybe that’s what is causing these strange events.”

Andros nodded, but he looked far from comforted. Still, the Chief Technician departed the chamber.

Maddox remained in the science chamber, studying the City of Pyramids 170 million kilometers away. He shifted viewpoints, but nothing new appeared, nor did he hear or sense intelligent communication directed at him.

After a time, Maddox grew droopy-eyed, struggling to remain awake but finally collapsing into a chair and falling asleep. His chin rested on his chest. Shortly thereafter began a strange and unsettling dream.

In his dream, Maddox’s spirit or consciousness left his body behind in the science-viewing chamber aboard Victory. His spirit departed the starship and flittered faster and faster, gaining speed as it zoomed for the second planet. The feeling was intoxicating, and Maddox felt encouraged, optimistic.

Eventually, he reached the upper atmosphere, slowing as he began to descend toward the dot of the city far below. A sense of danger intruded upon the dream, however.

Maddox halted, staring down. Glowing balls appeared down there. They seemed to call and beckon him to descend all the way. They would show him sights that would amaze his mind—that would astonish him and make him giggle.

Don’t tell him that. Maddox doesn’t giggle.

The sense of danger grew.

No, no, one of the glowing balls projected at him. This is fun. It is adventure. Don’t you wish to restore Galyan?

“How is that possible?” Maddox asked.

None of them spoke to him directly, but they projected the sense of learning many interesting facts. All he had to do was fly down and join them. They would all cavort together and pinwheel.

Maddox understood suddenly. The Erills tested concepts, seeing which ones compelled him. They did not fully comprehend humans yet, didn’t know all the buttons that would push a man into foolhardy actions—

“I want to go home,” Maddox said.

A vile chorus of noise beckoned him, telling him that he would be a great loser if he didn’t come down at once.

In his dream, Maddox tore his gaze from the City of Pyramids. He sought Victory in the blaze of stars.

Abruptly, he zoomed away from the second planet and away from the cries of dismay of the Erills down by the pyramids. He raced toward his body—

In the science-viewing chamber, Maddox’s head jerked up and his eyes flew open. He gulped and lurched to his feet. The answer to their problems—he knew what he had to do. First, though, he had to convince his wife it was worth the risk.

-4-

“What are you saying?” Meta shouted. “That’s madness. You’ve lost your mind.”

Maddox and Meta were in their quarters, getting ready for sleep. Maddox was taking off his clothes. Meta was already in bed with the covers pulled over most of her. She had a computer slate propped up as she watched one of her favorite shows in bed.

Maddox removed his last garment and climbed into bed, pulling back the covers. He grinned at the sight of a nude Meta. His wife was stunning. He flipped the covers back onto her as he slid beside her, pressing a leg against one of hers.

“Listen before you get mad,” he said.

“It’s too late for that,” she said. “I don’t want to lose you to some fool scheme. You can’t always win. Remember what happened in the Sagittarius Arm against the Yon-Soth?”

“You saved my life back then. I remember.”

“It was a freak thing that I managed to do it. You could have easily died there.”

“I know.” He caressed one of her arms. “But I didn’t.”

“Who can rescue you this time if something goes wrong? No one. No one can go down to the planet.”

“I can.”

“No! You just think you can. Didn’t your dream teach you anything? It was no dream anyway. Somehow, those monsters put you to sleep and teased your consciousness out of your body. They almost destroyed you.”

“Why haven’t they done that to anyone else then?” Maddox asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe they have.”

Maddox shook his head. “I checked. No one in the crew has died while we’ve been here.”

“Maybe an Erill has possessed one of the crew,” Meta said.

“We have no evidence of that.”

“Darling…” Meta stared into his eyes. “This is madness. The Erills are different from physical foes.”

“I know that better than anyone.”

“I don’t think you do. You attacked me before when Riker and I took you to the damned planet. The Erill possessed you.”

“Going there restored me,” Maddox said. “I used the Builder symbol in me to kill the Erill. Surely, I still have the symbol in my subconscious.”

“You mean you don’t know if you do or not? You just hope?”

“Calm down,” Maddox said.

“I can’t!” Meta cried, clinging to him. “I love you too much to let you do this.”

“I love you, too,” Maddox said, stroking her hair.

“Then don’t throw your life away on this madness,” Meta begged. “The Erills want to destroy you.”

“I know, I know,” he said in a soothing voice. Once, he would have just done what needed doing. Marriage had changed him, though, mellowing him a little. He also owed the woman who loved him and had risked everything to become his wife. He was still Captain Maddox, but he had a partner in life now.

“What’s going on with us anyway?” Meta asked quietly. “We’re aging and the rest of the universe is getting younger?”

“No, it’s the other way around. The rest of the universe is aging. We’re staying younger.”

“That’s almost as bad,” she said.

“Listen, Meta, the Erills, or one Erill, at least, communicated with me while I was in the science chamber. The Erill must have used that to pull my consciousness. I believe the Erills want to devour my consciousness, my soul. I think they’re scared of me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“They don’t want me to go down there intact.”

“You mean with your body?”

“Exactly,” Maddox said.

“How do you know that?”

It was a good question, maybe a critical one. Maddox tried to explain. “During the dream, I sensed their fear. What they did was a preemptive attack against me.”

Meta’s head moved back as she stared at him. “You realize these things are devils, right? They’re cunning. They want to trick you. This is a ploy. They’re desperate to get you down there.”

“As my consciousness, yes, or as my spirit alone,” Maddox said. “I felt their fear, Meta. You don’t understand. I know the smell of fear. The Erills…” Maddox shook his head, wondering if he should tell her the rest. “Look, the Erills know how to fix Galyan. We need the little Adok fixed so he can talk. We have to know our enemy, the one in the Lolis II that did this to Galyan. Until we know more…”

“What’s your plan, your entire plan?”

Maddox had wanted to keep certain parts secret. But he owed her the truth. “I’m going to use a darter and jump there, avoiding the lurker missiles. In the darter, I plan to go down to the City of Pyramids.”

“Alone?” she said.

“I have the power to kill Erills. I have the energy one gave me. I can hear their cries in my head. They have the means to fix Galyan.”

“You don’t truly know that.”

He thought about that, finally admitting. “It’s a risk, sure. But it’s better than doing nothing. Meta, something bad is going on with Star Watch. Fletcher isn’t fully right in the head. We’ve worked for so long to save the Commonwealth—”

“Darling,” she said. “I know that you…” Meta closed her eyes. “You never listen to me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Why does it always have to be you taking these grave risks?”

“Because I’m the di-far,” he said. “Who else is going to do it?”

Tears filmed in her eyes as she opened them. “Don’t you see? Fletcher sent you out here so you would destroy yourself doing something just like this.”

“That was his mistake. Listen, Meta, I think whatever knocked out Galyan wanted the AI dead. That someone also destroyed the Lolis II rather than let us know what was in the cargo bays. That must be their weak point: our learning what was in there.”

“But darling, Erills? You want to go down onto a planet full of Erills? You say the Dyson Sphere Builder gave you the symbol back then. He was trying to kill you back then. Why would he give you an Erill-killing power while he was trying to murder you?”

Maddox frowned. That was a good question. The answer struck him hard.

“What is it?” Meta demanded.

“The Dyson Sphere Builder must have been able to see into the future. The Builders had finally found a way to counteract the Erills. He gave me the symbol because he hated the Erills more than he hated me.”

“I’m no scientist,” Meta said, while searching his eyes, “but even I can see the holes in your argument. The Builder couldn’t have known you would come here. That’s just a guess, a wild one, at that. And if the Builders could slay Erills, why didn’t they do that way back when? Why didn’t they eliminate the terrible threat for good? And this special inner weapon in you…why didn’t it show up against the Ska in the Alpha Centauri System?”

“I don’t have all the answers, but I do know I can face the Erills and win.”

Meta’s shoulders slumped as she wilted against him. “Fine,” she whispered, defeated. “You do your thing. You want to die the hero…who am I to resist that?”

“I want your blessing, Meta.”

“Oh, darling,” she wept. “I love you. I want you to live. You have to promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise.”

She stared at him. “Do it and come back to me.”

“I will,” Maddox told her in his most confident voice. If I can, he added silently, hoping he knew what he was doing.

-5-

No one else wanted Maddox to go either. That was clear. Riker, Valerie and even Keith told him it was a suicide mission. If Maddox were someone else, he might have started to doubt himself.

Yes, the Erills were devilish spirit entities. According to the one he’d slain over two years ago now, they were from a different dimension, and had slaughtered the aliens that had created the opening to let them into this dimension. But none of the other crewmembers had slain an Erill. None of them had grown stronger because of the fight. Maddox was starting to wonder if he subconsciously hoped to slay and feast upon a second Erill, giving him even greater vitality.

One thing guided him in this. He knew the Erills feared him. He suspected that was why they’d tried to lure his consciousness alone. Could that have been a feint on their part, though, as Meta suggested? He didn’t believe it for a second. Besides, he needed Galyan. He needed to know what had attacked the holoimage while aboard the Lolis II. Something was messing with Star Watch from within.

Maddox climbed aboard the Darter-class scout ship Reynard. It had fold or jump capabilities like a jumpfighter and yet still had star-drive jump like a larger vessel. What it did not have was a Laumer Drive. Thus, by itself, the experimental ship could not use wormholes unless it joined with a ship that could.

The vessel was seven times larger than a jumpfighter but lacked true hull armor, although it did have a special polymer skin. It also lacked any shield generator. This was a scout vessel, relying on its stealth, fold and star-drive jump capabilities to survive.

The darter looked like a giant space bomber, with a delta-type wing, a giant triangle in the back. It had a few 20-millimeter autocannons and several antimissiles. The Reynard had traveled to the second planet before and made it back again. Now, it was time for the second trip.

Maddox settled himself in the pilot’s seat and began activating the engine. Soon enough, the darter rose from the deck in Hangar Bay 1 and headed for the open outer door.

“Sir,” Valerie said through the comm board. “The nearest lurker missiles must have sensed you. They’re already turning in your direction.”

That seemed weird. He wasn’t even outside the ship yet. Did that mean some sort of intelligence guided the lurker missiles?

“Did you hear me, sir?” asked Valerie.

“Roger that,” Maddox said, as he made adjustments. The darter moved through the open bay door into space. “I’m getting ready to jump…now.”

Maddox activated the systems—he’d preset the coordinates—and felt the shift as his head jerked back—he raised his head shortly, feeling something wet under his nose. He used his left wrist to wipe there and stared at blood. Had something gone wrong with the jump?

Maddox activated sensors and started looking around with them. No lurker missiles had zeroed in on him. He’d jumped close enough to the atmosphere to avoid that. No glowing balls—Erills—headed up from the sandy surface toward him.

Maddox clicked his comm board. “Valerie? Can you hear me?” He waited, waiting longer, wiping away all the blood under his nose. There had only been a little of it.

“This is Valerie, sir. I hear you. Is everything all right?”

He told her it was, omitting the nosebleed. He’d done something a little off, but it surely hadn’t been enough to jeopardize the mission.

Maddox used the repulsors, beginning a slow descent through the atmosphere. He did not feel any spiritual-entity assaults. So far, so good. He watched the scanners and looked out the polarized window. The sandy red and yellow planet spread out below. He used thrust to circle the planet, reaching an area over the City of Pyramids half an hour later.

He still couldn’t detect any Erill activity.

Maddox took a deep breath, activated the emergency landing program just in case something happened to him, and began a slow descent.

As he did, winds howled, using sand particles to strike the vessel. He would have liked Keith to pilot, but no one else could face the Erills. That meant if he crashed, no one was coming to get him. For once, Maddox took extra precautions. He’d promised Meta he would be as safe as he could. He’d meant that.

Three quarters of an hour later, the pyramids appeared visibly massive. He’d almost reached the surface, and still, no Erills had rushed up to mess with him. Maybe they really did fear him. Maybe they were looking for the perfect opportunity to attack.

A new thought struck. The Erills might fear him, but they hated their confinement to the second planet. They yearned to leave and roam the universe at large. Maybe they thought they could trick or out-bargain him. Maybe the real attack would only come once they realized he would never willingly let them leave.

Maddox cocked his head, waiting for some alien thought to pop up, some communication by the devilish Erills.

At that point, rougher winds struck the darter. The vessel wobbled, self-stabilized and moved lower yet. Maddox’s jaw dropped because he finally realized how mighty the pyramids really were. His darter sailed past one. He was like a tiny bird flying past a great mountain. The pyramid was bigger than the ones in space the Builders had constructed. This was amazing. How many millions of tons of stone did this single pyramid contain? It was staggering. The entire city—

Maddox nodded, manually bringing the darter lower yet. Yellow sands swirled around the great pyramids. Did the structures hold androids like ones on a different planet once had? He doubted it. Did the pyramids contain advanced technology that caused temporal distortions?

You are correct on the last score.

“Who said that?” asked Maddox aloud.

Nothing answered him, although a premonition struck. Maddox twisted around and started in shock.

A glowing ball of energy pulsated behind him. It was visible—at least, visible to his eyes.

Did Maddox see with physical eyes, or with spiritually enlightened ones?

“Who are you?” Maddox asked.

Land the darter, Captain. We will talk then.

Maddox searched his heart. He didn’t sense the Builder symbol in him. Could he have used it up in the last fight? He didn’t even know the name of the Erill he’d slain.

Maddox shook his head, concentrating upon landing. The glowing-ball Erill was behind him, but—focusing, Maddox brought the darter down between three great pyramids. The darter was like a flea compared to them. The winds couldn’t wobble the vessel as easily now because of the protective mountains of stone.

“Easy does it,” Maddox told himself.

With a thud, and a bump that rocked him, Maddox landed the darter on the second planet. He still didn’t have a name for it. He needed to call it something.

Maddox’s eyes got big as he stared out of the port window. Glowing balls, hundreds of them, began oozing out of the three pyramids.

Something vile chuckled in his mind.

Maddox knew fear, terror even—and he started to tremble. “No,” the captain whispered. He started his special breathing, concentrating on that alone. In and out—relax—in and out—let yourself go limp.

Look, the Erill said. We’re all coming to you. Can you defeat all of us combined, Captain?

Maddox wasn’t going to fret about the possibility. He was the di-far. He was going to save Star Watch and the Commonwealth through it. He was going to restore his friend Galyan or die trying.

The last will be easy for you, the Erill told him.

Another glowing ball oozed through the hull and entered the darter’s cabin. Others followed, and they began forming a wall of Erills behind him.

Maddox unbuckled and stood, putting a hand on his holstered blaster.

That won’t help you any.

Maddox closed his eyes, concentrating on the Way of the Pilgrim. After he gained total calm, Maddox said without opening his eyes, “If this is it, a combined attack against me that fails, I’m leaving. If I leave like this, I’m never coming back. So, make up your minds, because I’m opening my eyes now.”

-6-

A single glowing ball the size of a clenched fist hovered in the center of the darter piloting cabin. The other Erills had left, fast, too.

“That’s better,” Maddox said.

Can you really defend yourself against me, Captain? I do not sense the power in you.

“Give it a try then. Let’s see what happens.”

No. I’m content to wait, at least for the moment. You do realize what happens if you lack the power, though?

“You told me earlier you can help me. Is that true or not?”

It depends on what you mean by help.

“I want to repair Galyan. Do you know anything about that?”

I know far more than you realize. But this Galyan—you mean the deified Adok AI?

Maddox nodded.

The floating ball moved up and down, and it pulsated. I believe I have an answer for you. If you will follow me—

“Follow you outside?” asked Maddox.

Of course.

“What are you called?”

I am an Erill. You know that.

“Do you have a specific name?”

You can refer to me as Sargon if you like.

“Where are you planning to guide me, Sargon?”

Inside the Pyramid of Viewing.

“And what will I see?”

That depends on your strength of will, on your imagination. You may be too dense or dull-witted to use the Viewer. You may ask for my assistance, and I do not know what you would be willing to give for it.

“Yeah,” Maddox said.

He didn’t like the idea of leaving the darter. He didn’t think the Erills could do anything physical to it. He’d also rigged the vessel to explode and take him with it if he felt Erills taking him over. If he left the ship and the Erills possessed him…

The calm he’d felt began slipping away. Once more, Maddox closed his eyes and practiced his breathing.

Soon, he opened his eyes and then a storage locker, donning a surface suit. He took a rifle, an expandable spade and other equipment. Maybe he should have brought a battlesuit. This would have to do.

You do not need a suit, as the atmosphere is breathable.

“We’ll see,” Maddox said.

Finally, he sat at the controls and contacted Victory. “I’m going outside,” he said. “If I’m not back in ten hours, use the auto-detonation.”

You might regret such an order.

Maddox didn’t respond. Instead, he went through the procedures to go outside, soon climbing down steps onto the planet’s surface. Wind howled. He could hear it easily enough through his enclosed helmet, and he felt it blast against him every so often as he began to trudge.

The main star or sun shone at around mid-afternoon level, providing plenty of light and countless shadows caused by the gargantuan pyramids. He clumped across brittle sand as swift dust particles struck his suit. The size of the ancient structures awed him. The age of the pyramids made him think. Why was there a temporal distortion in the star system? It must have something to do with the ancient aliens that had summoned the Erills—brought them through a multiverse gate of some kind.

The pulsating ball of light guiding him hovered at eye level, gliding through the air just ahead of him, taking him farther and farther from the darter.

Maddox glanced back, wondering if this would be his last sight of the vessel. He practiced Pilgrim breathing. He had to remain calm. Panic or fright would end everything, maybe in a terribly gruesome manner. He knew the Erills hated him. The captain blanked his thoughts and let his body operate on automatic. He walked the mismatched lanes of the City of Pyramids, eventually seeing one of the great structures with an apparent opening. Sand swirled into the dark entrance.

The Viewer lies within, Captain.

Maddox squared his surface-suit’s shoulders and trudged resolutely, passing through the entrance into a long stone corridor. He halted, expecting a steel door to slam shut behind him. It did not. With a shrug, he took out a flashlight, clicking it on. He didn’t trust Sargon to continuing illuminating the area for him.

He shined the light on the walls and spied ancient symbols, hieroglyphics. He’d seen hieroglyphics like these before in Builder space pyramids. With a shock, he realized there must be a strong Builder connection to the dead aliens of this planet. What did that imply?

He waited for Sargon to say something regarding that. The Erill did not, nor did Maddox feel like asking. Moving through the mighty, ancient structure was difficult enough.

After a long walk, Maddox began to climb worn stone steps. They were for beings much larger than he was, maybe three times as large: giants, he supposed. Maddox started panting, and yet still the staircase led upward into the darkness.

More glowing, pulsating balls of light appeared. Maddox finally clicked off his flashlight and hooked it to his belt. Even more Erills showed up. An aura of eagerness and hunger, terrible primordial hunger, began to press against his mind.

“Did you bring me here to die, Sargon?” Maddox asked.

A pulsating ball detached from the others, floating nearer until it was inches from the captain’s closed visor.

We must test your worthiness before we show you marvels that will blast your mind into insanity.

“Sure, that seems reasonable enough. But let’s make this more interesting by including a wager.”

Yes, yes, your threat about leaving us forever. If you’ll notice, Captain, you’re no longer on your darter. And yes, by the way, I did read your thought earlier about not being on it when it exploded. You have no crutches here, Captain. If you lack the killing symbol, if you the lack the strength to wield it against our combined might, then you will become the carrier. Then, you will be the vessel that takes us to Victory and the universe beyond. We can hardly contain ourselves, Thing.

“Thing?”

You’re a flesh and blood carrier. You’re a fool. I’m glad you so easily believed my promises.

“Yup, yup, I understand,” Maddox said as lightly as he could manage. “Well, which one of you wants to cease existing first?” Maddox widened his arms and made a “Come here” gesture with his gloved fingers.

I sense no Builder symbol in you.

“No problem. It will come when it’s needed.”

How do you know this?

“I don’t. It’s a belief.”

Your belief could be wrong.

“That’s a fact, Jack.”

We will swarm you, rendering such a symbol useless in any case.

“Are you done yammering?” Maddox asked.

That must have been the signal, as the pulsating, glowing-ball spiritual entities rushed him.

Something wavered before Maddox. Then he realized he’d gone into himself, into his id. He stood on a great spongy plain, as it had been in the alien Destroyer. Great darkness hovered before him, a tangible thing of inky depth and width. He realized it was the massed Erills watching him. Something seemed to have checked their rush.

In that second, the shining Builder symbol appeared before Maddox. It was strong and powerful just like two years ago. Smiling, Maddox reached up and grabbed the warm symbol, ready to hammer it into his arm that had become long and sharp like a sword.

He paused, however, waiting for the first Erill to peel off from the massed darkness and attempt to possess him. Finally, the symbol faded as did Maddox’s view of the great spongy plain. Consciousness returned to his body. He found himself standing, regarding the lone Erill, Sargon, who had dimmed so low that darkness surrounded Maddox inside the great pyramid.

“What just happened?” Maddox asked. “I wanted you Erills to attack and die. I’ve been planning on become a super-being for some time now.”

You are a clever and convincing deceiver. Even now, you appear to me as a foolish primate, surprised at our pause. These deceptions on your part must end.

“I’ll tell you what then, Sargon. Quit snooping around in my thoughts, and I won’t be able to fool you so easily.”

Come. I will guide you back to your ship.

“Wrong,” Maddox said. “Let’s see the Viewer.”

Why should I take you there? You will never help us leave Estar.

“That’s the name of the city?”

The planet.

“Give me a reason to help you leave.”

I cannot, as I cannot overcome your Builder symbol.

“You can bargain with me.”

Sargon glowed brighter as the ball of light bobbed up and down. Tendrils of light reached out and then whiplashed back into the glowing ball.

Yes. Follow me.

-7-

Maddox stood on a stone platform before banks of giant levers, huge knobs and dish-sized buttons and monstrous foot pedals. There were screens, computer inputs and colossal glass bulbs with barely glowing filaments inside. Beyond that were vast crystals, stone pistons, seemingly crude machinery, spinning drums, wires in thick profusion and other titanic parts.

It is time.

Maddox could trace the machine’s purpose because Sargon glowed around his helmet, showing him. He understood the Erill’s honesty because the Builder symbol pulsated like an axe in his id. Sargon was near enough to take a blow in the id reality if he proved false.

This was the bargain, on pain of death for Sargon, who attempted to show Maddox the utility of the City of Pyramids.

Maddox yanked a meters-long lever.

The giant primeval machinery whirled faster as the crystals glowed brighter and brighter and the drums spun as if they were out of control. Maddox understood the machine’s function enough to know he wasn’t reopening the terrible path into a dimension of billions upon billions of Erills.

This wasn’t a time machine either, but it incorporated the temporal distortions in order to see into the distant past.

Maddox didn’t know it, but the crew of Victory were witnessing a terrifying event. Lightning crackled from pyramid to pyramid and temporal storms swirled around the primeval city of stone.

The Erills couldn’t directly control the machines, as they lacked corporal or physical forms to do so. But they’d learned long ago how the machines worked. Sargon continued to show Maddox, who pulled the seven-meter-long levers, pressed twenty-pound buttons and manually wrestled with three-hundred-pound knobs. Electrical energy surged around him, causing Maddox’s hair inside the helmet to stand straight up.

This is the moment. Shift the left pedal and pull the temporal interface as far back as you can.

Maddox did as bidden, and the great screen before him that took up eighty by sixty meters began to shine with power. The captain watched spellbound as he saw an event over six thousand years ago in the Adok System. He did not understand the science behind this. He didn’t really care except to hope it was accurate. He studied the screen and witnessed a band of Adok engineers working on the AI computer system aboard a newly built Victory. Maddox watched closely.

Do you see? Do you see?

“No!” Maddox shouted. “What am I looking for?”

It is to your left. Surely, you can see that.

Maddox saw an Adok engineer use a crane arm to set computer parts into a floor cavity. The engineer deposited the parts and caused the crane arm to rise. Afterward, workers began assembling deckplates over the cavity.

“Oh,” Maddox said. “I know where that is.”

So do I.

“How do I turn this thing off?” Maddox shouted.

Vile Erill chuckling sounded in his mind. You didn’t think it was going to be that easy, did you?

The entity no longer glowed around his head, thus pulling out of the axe-edge range in Maddox’s id.

“Do you think you’re safe?”

I know it.

“Let’s find out,” Maddox shouted, reaching for a lever and pushing it forward. He reset knobs, twisting them, shoved giant pedals to new positions—

The great pyramid began shaking as machines roared out of control.

Stop it. You’ll bring the primeval edifice to the ground.

“What do I care? If I can’t leave, if the machines will act against me—”

You have made your point. I will resume my place near your id and guide you to shut down the Chrono Viewer.

Maddox’s distrust had risen, and he expected trickery every second, but he saw the Erill at the edge of his id and saw the Builder symbol resume its place. He listened to the Erill’s instructions, watched with his eyes, and felt with his other senses.

The machines whined down as the stations ceased pumping them with outlandish power. He could tell because the crystals no longer glowed.

Once again, those on Victory saw diminished lightning storms and less wind swirling less sand in smaller cyclones until the planet no longer threatened to shake apart.

Finally, Maddox stumbled back and collapsed. He was weary and sore, and his mind ached. He hadn’t realized how strenuous that had been until now.

I have fulfilled my bargain.

Maddox nodded wearily. “Most of it anyway. I have to see if it worked.”

If you mean your returning to the starship—

“How else can I tell the others where to find the old parts?”

If I allow you to leave Estar, you’ll never return.

“But I swore that I would return. Like you, I keep my bargains.”

Do you believe me a fool?

“No. I think you’ve proven that we can work together. You actually have something I want. This Chrono Viewer represents a tremendous power. There are many events I wish to see. This is incredible.”

You are attempting to trick me. You think that I hunger for release from this prison to such a degree that—

“There it is,” Maddox said, interrupting. “That’s how I’ll repay you. I can send you back to your dimension.”

“I never want to return there, as I long to drive my herd of physical beings before me. I wish to rule a thousand planets and feast upon…

“Go on,” Maddox said. “Finish your thought. This is interesting.”

Here’s a new idea. I’ll use the temporal distortion, but to greater effect. That will place you in a different era, as it were. Then, you need not feel any guilt releasing us into the universe.

“Sargon, I have to return to Victory, as I have to restore Galyan. Afterward, I’ll return here in order to seek greater power against my enemies by learning their secrets.”

I sense your dishonesty.

“No. That’s just your fear in play. I’m a man of my word. You know that.”

That’s just it. I do not know. There are conflicting thoughts in your mind regarding your honesty.

“Then gamble,” Maddox said. “If you’re right, you gain everything. If you lose, you’ll simply be in the same position as before.”

I cannot abide the thought of you cheating me.

Maddox shrugged his suit shoulders. “It’s your call. I know what I would do in your place. I’d gamble on winning everything. That’s what I did in coming here. Look where it got me.”

Near the point of death. If we swarm you, we can destroy you before you can kill all of us.

Maddox’s shoulders slumped. He was too weary to keep arguing. He had what he came for. It was time to leave. Thus, he took out the flashlight and started down the great stairway, hoping it would lead him onto the right path.

It will not. That is the wrong direction.

Maddox refused to listen. He trusted his sense of direction, being eighty percent certain this was the correct path.

Wait. I have another proposal. I can help you discover the identity of Nostradamus.

Maddox halted in surprise, turning around. “How do you know about him?”

That is not important. Is it a deal?

“Can Erills use the Viewer on your own?”

I know about you, Captain Maddox, Sargon gloated. I’ve learned about those who hate you. You would be surprised how that came to happen. I thought I didn’t need their help. That I could lure you to your doom, but you’re more stubborn than I realized. The others were right—

“Keep talking.”

A secret for a secret.

“What secret can I give you?” Maddox asked.

Sargon didn’t reply. Instead, many Erills began appearing around him. They all seemed to pulse in time together. Slowly, each Erill began to sink toward each other, joining and coalescing into one huge ball of spiritual entity.

CAPTAIN MADDOX.

The captain groaned as he bent his head in pain at the blast of heavy thought.

Still more Erills appeared. They did the same as the first, soon joining the growing ball of spiritual energy.

CAN YOU FACE US ALL, MADDOX? DO YOU DARE TRY?

“What?” he whispered.

The mighty combined force of Erills rushed him, ramming into his id like a mountain of power.

Maddox howled like a lost soul, feeling the weight of hundreds of Erills together. It was a titanic rush, hoping to crush his will under their mighty weight. And yet…the Builder symbol appeared as he stood upon the spongy plain of his id.

In desperation, Maddox took the symbol that floated before him and placed it against his right arm, which had become shaped and sharp like a sword.

The mountain of glowing energy rushed over him like a ten-ton blanket, smothering him and—a scream of ethereal soul power shook Maddox’s universe, and he might have succumbed to the sound, but energy began flowing into him. The energy flowed through his sword arm, the one with the pulsating Builder symbol embedded within and the one thrust into the mass of coalesced Erills.

“You lose!” Maddox shouted, shoving the sword-arm deeper into the mass of Erills, sucking spiritual energy from them, giving him the strength to resist the combined force pressing around and against him.

The contest continued—

STOP, STOP, the combined entity screamed. PLEASE, STOP SUCKING OUR ENERGY. WE’LL DO ANYTHING YOU ASK.

Maddox refused to listen, determining to kill the Erills here and now, possibly claiming the City of Pyramids for Star Watch afterward.

The combined force of Erills tried a different maneuver, flooding his mind with images and thoughts from—Maddox rejected the images.

They tried a new strategy.

Maddox rejected it as well.

Then, one of the Erills shoved a completely different thought at him, showing him what had happened to Captain Becker of Star Watch.

“Who?” asked Maddox.

LEARN ABOUT YOUR MOST BITTER FOE, CAPTAIN.

As Maddox lay physically frozen in the great pyramid upon Estar, the joint-Erills entity threw images and ideas at his mind in order to distract him long enough so it could disengage from the id sword-arm devouring them.

They had indeed used the great Chrono Viewer for their own ends, but not with their own soul strength. They had done so as Maddox used the viewer to learn the whereabouts of ancient computer parts in Victory for Galyan. Because of the hints in Maddox’s mind, hints he was not aware he possessed, the combined mass entity had learned about Jarnevon, the Bosk Homeworld. They’d used the viewer and discovered Nostradamus. Everything had made more sense to the Erills once they did. For instance, they understood why Nostradamus had wanted Maddox to travel here. Nearly as interesting, they’d witnessed the seduction of—

In a fit of desperation to escape the id sword they’d thrown themselves against, the mass Erills mind began to show Maddox the inner workings of the events that had happened several years ago to a Captain Josef Becker of Star Watch Intelligence. The mass Erills mind reasoned that Maddox would want to know these things as they directly pertained to the Class-3 Hauler Lolis II.

In a split moment of id memory-flash-time, the detailed knowledge of Becker’s strange odyssey began to unfold in Maddox’s mind.

-8-

FOUR YEARS, FIVE MONTHS AGO WHEN COOK WAS STILL LORD HIGH ADMIRAL AND MADDOX HAD JUST DEFEATED THE DRAEGARS:

Captain Josef Becker loved his work. He was good at it, maybe even the best if you counted results—not the broken mutilated bodies and the shattered minds, but the information he extracted from the incorrigibles, the so-called impossible cases.

It only made sense then that he ended up on Jarnevon, the Bosk Homeworld. Well, he was in orbit over the rocky hell-world in one of the special project ships of Star Watch Intelligence. The corvette belonged to the Wet Works Division. The WWD had begun acting even more independently and willfully since Brigadier O’Hara had gone searching for Professor Ludendorff in the Tau Ceti System.

Apparently, Bosks had gotten ahold of O’Hara and screwed with her mind but good. Maddox had discovered that during a mission dealing with Builder nexuses in Imperial Swarm territory. Later, Admiral Piedmont arrived at Jarnevon with a Star Watch fleet. The Bosks were unreasonable concerning Piedmont’s demands. Thus, the admiral let the heavies bombard the stubborn bastards from orbit. Space Marines had landed after a day of it and begun putting bewildered Bosks into internment camps. The Intelligence teams started combing the camps, hunting for Bosks with data relating to Lord Drakos, New Men and Methuselah Man Strand, not necessarily in that order.

Becker had arrived after five weeks of intense effort. By then, the regular Intelligence teams had collected hundreds of incorrigibles, the tough guys and girls who refused to break.

That was all right, though. Becker loved his work. He was good at it. One of the reasons he excelled was his imagination. Some people could absorb beatings like you wouldn’t believe. Some couldn’t care less if you removed a finger or four. Some resisted hypnotic suggestion or truth serum with astonishing ease. It was often a matter of figuring out what bothered the bastards. It could be the strangest thing, and that’s where Becker’s imagination excelled.

The point wasn’t the cruelty or sadism that Becker inflicted on the—hey, wait a minute. He worked over tough, often evil people. There were no daises in the bunch. And the Bosks—they took the cake. These were some of the hardest sons of bitches that Becker had ever met. He never wanted to be alone with any of them in a dark alley at night.

Anyway, the seduction of Josef Becker started as he sat in a cubicle before a computer screen. He was small and pallid, with narrow shoulders. He had thin dark hair, dark eyes and a black uniform. For being such a small sadist, he was quite the handsome devil. He had an engaging smile, as well. The ladies loved the smile, although they seldom saw it. Usually, the tough, evil guys saw it as they were breaking, and they were seldom in the proper frame of mind to appreciate the smile’s sincerity.

Becker was at the computer console doing his homework. While fieldwork was the rage for novelists and historians, most of the real Intelligence progress came from the grind of reading, correlating and using data—facts, in other words. It was boring and often mind-numbing. But if you were the best, you did the little things better than anyone else did, and you did them longer, too.

Becker’s bloodshot eyes darted back and forth as he speed-read. Part of his genius came from his high IQ. Let no one kid themselves on the importance of intellect concerning a wonderful imagination and sheer smarts. Another part of his genius came from the passion for what he did.

Becker was small and physically weak. He’d been that way as a kid growing up in an East London slum. It meant he’d been beaten up a lot if he went outside. He’d fought back, as he’d read somewhere that bullies respected those who resisted. In his case, it turned out to be dead wrong. The bullies loved it when he fought back, maybe because he was such a pathetic weakling. Still, the fighting back had helped in one key area. Becker’s will had hardened instead of shrinking and disappearing.

In high school, he took up wrestling, routinely having his ass handed to him by faster, stronger and more clever wrestlers. To remedy this, he went to the gym and lifted. His results were poor. So, he stole supplements from the stores, as his family lacked the credits to buy them. The hard work and endless bottles of supplements finally paid off—not in bulging muscles. He was the wrong body type for that. He was small, and had the leanest whip-corded muscles anyone had ever seen. He still wasn’t that strong, but he’d become agile and coordinated, and had developed a burning desire to whomp on bigger, stronger people, men or women, it didn’t matter to him. He’d taken his licks. Now, it was his turn. And since he’d read like crazy since childhood, he knew that his best chance for that was by joining Star Watch Intelligence. As he’d particularly enjoyed military history, he knew a ton about secret police like the Gestapo, the KGB and spy agencies like Mossad and the CIA.

Star Watch Intelligence had a squeaky-clean image. But like any organization devoting itself to undercover work, the truth was different.

As Becker sat in the cubicle aboard the special project WWD corvette, he read about Hekkus Laja. The Bosk was like the Draegars Maddox had faced in that Hekkus was a brilliant mind technician, possibly with a direct connection to Methuselah Man Strand. But Hekkus was also huge and muscularly powerful like the Captain Nard that Maddox had defeated when he’d annihilated the Bernard Shaw Q-ship.

Becker leaned forward. This was interesting. Hekkus Laja had refused to speak during any interrogation. Although the Bosk had said and done nothing, the interrogators uniformly developed headaches, sometimes vomiting right there. A few had gone back to Earth, ailing and withering.

Hmm…Becker scrolled up, up. Here it was.

Fifth Regiment Space Marines had found Hekkus in a deep mine near the Eastern Settlement at the mountainous rim of the Dar-Rimes Desert. Hekkus had been unconscious, found lying amongst rubble. An orbital strike must have knocked him unconscious as it shook the deep cavern.

Becker sat back as he fingered his chin. Would the Space Marines have been able to bring Hekkus in if he’d been conscious?

Becker went back to scrolling and reading.

He desperately wanted to find the gold-mine subject that would propel him to greater things. He was a captain yearning for higher rank. He might be small, might be relatively weak, but this East London lad had the highest of ambitions, certain he had what it took to achieve anything he set his hand to.

Three hours and fifty-two minutes later, Becker sat back, groaning as he stretched his lower back.

He needed to interview Hekkus Laja. That would mean he needed to send for Lieutenant Larick, a 300-pound Neptunian wrestler, the best bodyguard Becker had ever found. The two of them worked well together.

As Becker stood, rubbing his thin fingers, he envisioned this as being the most important interrogation in the Jarnevon Operation.

He couldn’t know it, but Becker was in for the surprise of his life.

-9-

Becker did his homework. He knew about the special abilities of some Spacers to manipulate neural relays in people’s heads. That wasn’t common knowledge even among the top Intelligence staffers, but Becker had found it prudent in life to cheat, to find those extra sources so he always knew more than anyone else did on the important subjects.

Becker had long ago learned to hack into Captain Maddox’s after-action reports as given to the Iron Lady. The reports were edifying and startling, and it gave Becker a thrill to “put one over” on the so-called di-far.

It was strange, but Becker both admired and hated Maddox.

In any case, the point today was that every battlesuited MP handling Hekkus Laja had a working jammer in his suit blocking all signals. That would include, hopefully, any mental signals that Hekkus could generate.

It wasn’t that Becker knew for sure Hekkus could do the same thing as some Spacers did with mechanical implements surgically embedded in their bodies. It simply seemed like the logical answer. Hekkus must have done something to his interrogators to cause headaches and vomiting binges. Since Becker did not believe in mystical answers, the man must have used a scientific process.

Becker had also outfitted the interrogation chamber with working jammers as backup and as protection for himself.

He waited outside the chamber as Larick and his men prepped the Bosk, shackling him to an upright medical board, attaching electrodes to his body and test-shocking him. Afterward, Larick would administer a nerve stimulant through hypo-spray. The stimulant heightened a subject’s sensation of pain, making a pinch, say, feel as if someone used a drill to rip down to the bone.

As he waited, Becker adjusted his uniform and mentally prepared himself to face a hardened adversary. He lived for these kinds of meetings.

Finally, a red light flashed over the hatch.

Becker half-smiled in anticipation, wiped it away and opened the hatch. The chamber had a foul stench, but Becker was used to that. Pain had an adverse effect on some individuals so that—well, never mind.

The battlesuited MPs had departed the chamber, waiting outside, watching through two-way mirrors. Larick was with them. The man had standing orders to fire through the glass to kill the subject if Becker was in any danger and time was an issue.

The pallid Intelligence captain had learned to trust Larick’s impeccable judgment when it came to physical conflicts or dangers. The Neptunian wrestler had the best instincts, as he was a natural and highly trained bully.

The chamber seemed cramped with the bulky jamming equipment, pain inducers, recorders and upright medical bed. Hekkus Laja was a giant of a Bosk, more impressive in person than in vids.

He was fully strapped down on the medical board, held upright and quite naked with a hundred electrodes attached. He was immensely muscular, indicating excellent genetics, massive steroid use and hard hours of lifting. Hekkus had darker skin than most Bosks and was quite bald. Normally, at this stage in an interrogation, Becker would see the upright hair from the shocks slowly lying down. It was the Bosk’s face that amazed him, though. Hekkus had hard flat planes to his face and dark burning eyes. They admitted no pain or discomfort, only contempt. He also had a black tattoo of a dagger on his broad forehead. That one was different from other Bosk dagger tattoos, in that the blade was hooked.

Becker stared into the burning eyes and felt a moment of discomfort. That startled him. His head swayed back and he blinked rapidly. For a moment, fear knifed through his heart.

Becker turned aside, striding to a jamming panel. He studied it, tapping here, there, running a quick diagnostic. The jammer was working at full capacity.

Becker frowned, rubbed his chin and closed his eyes. Did he feel a headache? No. Did he feel any nausea? No.

Breathing deeply through his nostrils, Becker opened his eyes and mentally settled himself. He turned, moving confidently to the sole chair in the room. He sat, crossed his legs and picked up a computer slate attached by wire to the central pain stimulator. Other wires snaked from the stimulator to the electrodes taped all over Hekkus’s massive frame. Becker regarded the prisoner once more, but avoided looking directly into the dark eyes.

“Hekkus Laja, you are here because of crimes against the Commonwealth of Planets. Your people have knowingly supported Methuselah Man Strand in undercover operations that have spanned…”

Becker blinked several times as he felt a force burning against his mind. His eyes flicked up as he peered into Hekkus’s staring orbs.

There was a slight shock in his mind, the stirring of a headache and a touch of nausea. Becker clamped down on it as he narrowed his eyes.

“I see,” he said. With a swift motion, he tapped his slate.

The pain stimulator sent a pulse to an electrode. Hekkus’s body flinched, but the contempt on his features remained.

Worse, the pressure against Becker’s mind increased.

“I don’t think so,” the captain said quietly, tapping the slate again.

Hekkus began to writhe upon the upright board, the pain stimulations increasing. Finally, the huge Bosk closed his eyes as if weary.

The pressure departed from Becker’s mind, as did the growing sense of nausea.

“So…” Becker said. He tapped the slate again, and the pain stimulation ceased.

Hekkus opened his eyes, and calculation had replaced the contempt.

“I can do this all day,” Becker said. “Can you?”

Hekkus cocked his head. It was unseemly, as the prisoner should be howling for mercy at this point with the pain-heightener tingling through his nerve endings. The agony that had surged through Hekkus—many hardened soldiers would have wept like scorned women already, begging him to stop.

What was the source of Hekkus’s unnatural strength?

“Do you really wish to know?” Hekkus asked in a grating voice.

“What?” Becker said, the Bosk’s question catching him by surprise.

“You seek power, yes?”

“Now, see here—” Becker said, stopping himself. It wouldn’t do to complain to the prisoner. He had to reassert control of the situation.

“You do not understand anything,” Hekkus said in his grating voice. “But I sense an abnormal drive in you. In that, you are a giant among pygmies.”

“Do you wish to die howling in agony?”

“I was going to live forever. Do you have any conception of what that means?”

Becker sat up, uncrossing his legs. Who was Hekkus Laja? The way the Bosk spoke… Had he accidently stumbled onto something more? Was this the golden subject that would propel him to the heights of power?

“He lied to me,” Hekkus said. “But I won’t lie to you. What you seek lies deep in the cavern where the Marines found me. I did not think there was one like you here. The scope of your thoughts…how could a weakling like you have become so mentally powerful? It is a mystery to me.”

“What are you babbling about?”

Hekkus snorted. “I grow weary of this, as I tire from blanking out the pain. I thought—” The giant of a Bosk shook his head. “You are a clever little midget, a cautious one, too. Perhaps if I had followed your path—”

As Hekkus abruptly stopped speaking, he turned his head as the contempt welled back onto his face.

Becker raised a threatening hand over the slate. “Listen to me carefully. You’d better start making sense. Otherwise, I’ll make you scream for mercy until you’ve lost your voice. I don’t think you’ll like that.”

Hekkus regarded him with a sneer. “You’ll never hurt me again, although I could fry your mind if I wished. I won’t, as I perceive—”

The giant raised his gaze toward the ceiling, and he shouted unintelligible words filled with transcendent power.

Becker watched transfixed, with his mouth open in amazement at the performance.

Suddenly, heavy battlesuit fire shattered the two-way mirror. The slugs tore into Hekkus Laja’s frame, shredding skin, muscles, fat and bones and splashing blood everywhere as the slugs smashed the medical board into smithereens.

Several drops of blood flew through the air and splattered onto Becker’s pristine uniform.

One of Lieutenant Larick’s battlesuited gloves reached out and shoved the other MP’s firing rifle down, but it was too late. Hekkus Laja was dead, slain by a Star Watch Intelligence military policeman.

It was the craziest thing that Becker had ever witnessed, and it was the preparation for an uncanny journey.

-10-

Several weeks passed as Becker interrogated more incorrigibles, breaking all of them. Yet through it all, the incident with Hekkus Laja kept preying on his mind.

Interestingly, Corporal Hans Fowler shot himself a day after murdering the prisoner. Fowler hadn’t been able to explain what had happened to him. He’d thought the Bosk had broken free. That was what he’d seen, anyway. Thus, he fired before the Bosk could slay Captain Becker. When shown a video of the actual incident, Fowler had shaken his head in dismay.

“But I saw…I saw him break free. I’m not lying, sir. You have to believe me,” Fowler said with pleading eyes.

Becker had not believed, sending for a psychologist in order to figure out why Fowler would lie. Fowler had shot himself before she could question him, though. He hadn’t left a suicide note, either. His file hadn’t said anything about suicidal tendencies, and Star Watch Intelligence rigorously tested for that.

You can bet that Becker had them do an autopsy on Hekkus Laja. The surgeons found nothing like a Spacer battery and circuit inside the corpse. The brain, though, was denser than it should be. There were no new organs in it, but the pituitary gland was three times its normal size.

Why would the brain weigh so much more than average? And what was with the huge pituitary gland?

Becker faced an Intelligence HQ inquisitor over the incident. The man went over the recording of the event in exquisitely painful detail. One would think the inquisitor would have asked about Hekkus’s revelation about the cavern, but Becker had already altered the file, scrubbing that from the interrogation. Becker had also shown Hekkus supposedly making the usual blustering statements in the altered, doctored file—threats against Star Watch, himself, that sort of thing.

Why Becker had doctored the file, he couldn’t say. He thought about that the next few weeks, realizing he’d taken a huge risk that could have ended his career in Star Watch.

Well, the doctoring had worked. That was the important thing. No use belaboring it now.

As Becker lay in his cot at night, he went over the Hekkus Interrogation word by word. He did it so much that he was finding it harder to get enough sleep. He wondered if Hekkus had done something to him, preventing him from sleeping enough. And why would he—Becker—consider going down to the cavern? Why was it starting to become an obsession with him? It was a horrible, stupid and completely dangerous idea. He wanted no part of it.

Still…why had Corporal Fowler shot Hekkus and then committed suicide the next day? The only answer that made sense was that the Bosk had willed both events to happen. Was that magic?

Becker scoffed at the idea. You’re not an idiot, he told himself, so don’t come up with an idiot’s excuse. Clearly, it had not been magic. That was just a word for unexplainable things. Hekkus had a dense brain with a massively enlarged pituitary gland. That meant something, right? The Bosk prisoner hadn’t spoken to anyone else despite their best efforts. Hekkus had shown fantastic abilities to resist pain. By the words he’d spoken, Hekkus seemed to have analyzed him. That was impossible, of course, but… There had been that pressure against his mind, and also the nausea in his body. That was real.

I wonder what’s deep in the cavern. What could it hold? Why did I alter the record? Those questions and others plagued Becker’s sleep so he got much less than normal.

While all this occurred, Becker continued breaking other Bosks without difficulty. They were physically strong and exceptionally tough, but except for the Draegars, not that smart.

One thing was bizarre, though. None of the other Bosks or Draegars knew about Hekkus Laja. There was no record about him anywhere on the planet. That was freaking weird, right? At the start of the investigation, there had been something about him having a connection to Methuselah Man Strand. Yet, as much as Becker searched, he couldn’t find the old data. What had happened to the data?  And…just who was or who had Hekkus Laja been then? What had been his purpose? How could the Bosk giant have said with such conviction that he believed he would live forever? How had Hekkus known that Becker wanted power? And how could the one called he, deep in the cavern, help Becker acquire the power?

In the end, the last question began to consume Becker. Sure, breaking tough guys and girls like the Bosks was fun. He showed the bullies of the universe why it had been a bad idea to screw with him as a kid. They’d given him a deep and abiding passion for revenge, and he really enjoyed that passion.

Josef Stalin had been wrong, too. Vengeance was not best served cold. It was best served by the mood of the day. Sometimes hot felt best. Sometimes cold was excellent. Just like poker answers, it depended on the situation.

Well, here was the thing. Becker went back to the computer cubicle. He set up one of his special programs and started hunting for all the data there was concerning that deep cavern where Space Marines had found Hekkus Laja unconscious among the rubble.

It soon became apparent the Bosks had no data on that cave. The information wasn’t hidden. It wasn’t scrubbed. Such data simply didn’t exist.

Okay…Becker thought to himself. Why had the Space Marines picked that cave to explore?

He hacked into the Bismarck-class battleship’s computer system, the one that had sent the Marine shuttle to the surface. The Brandenburg’s computer files didn’t give a specific reason for searching that cavern.

That struck Becker as odd.

He had as great a passion for solving mysteries as he had for breaking tough guys and girls. He also was a genius, and had brilliant intuition. In other words, Becker believed in playing a hunch. Perhaps that was why he was both fascinated and repelled by the idea of Maddox being di-far. He knew Brigadier O’Hara considered Maddox as Intelligence’s greatest agent. Becker believed that was him, even if he was still in embryo.

Becker did more homework at the cubicle, discovering that Space Marine Lieutenant Lee Wong had led the shuttle team. None of the Marines had experienced any headaches or nausea, or listed any suicides or other problems after having dealt with Hekkus.

Becker pondered that as he leaned back in his chair. He leaned forward and did more searching. He found his answer forty-seven minutes later. Hekkus had been unconscious the entire time with the Marines.

Fine. That was just fine.

Becker’s fingers flew over the panel as he pulled one piece of data after another. In the end, he made up a reason and used a shuttle to go from the special project corvette to the Brandenburg.

He interviewed the Space Marines involved in the pickup, but found nothing important. Finally, he asked Lieutenant Lee Wong about the mission as the two of them sipped drinks in a battleship lounge.

Wong was a big old boy with flat features. He stared at Becker for a time, not acknowledging the question.

Becker remained calm, waiting. He would have liked to have Wong on the medical bed with electrodes attached. That would get the muscle-bound clod talking.

“Ah, I remember,” Wong said at last. “The directional buoy led us to the cave entrance. Command had dropped those on places to land. We went to the cave first. The men didn’t like the cave, said it was haunted.”

“You didn’t put that in the report,” Becker said.

Wong shrugged massive shoulders, looking uneasy.

“What is it?” Becker asked. “What’s wrong?”

“The cave was haunted. I felt it, too. But I knew we had a prize waiting for us.”

“Oh?” Becker said, refraining from a skeptical tone. He knew that might shut the lieutenant down.

“I was right, wasn’t I? Our captive proved to be an important prize.”

“You were right. But how did you know you would find him?”

Wong frowned. “The directional buoy led us there. I figured command had a reason for that. Ah. I remember. Yes. That was a priority buoy. I couldn’t go back upstairs without anything if command had as much said that searching the cave was critical. I surely couldn’t tell the commodore we’d fled from a haunted cavern.” Wong blinked several times. “You won’t put what I just said in your report, will you?”

“No.”

Wong looked relieved. “Is there anything else?”

“No. That wraps it up. Thanks, Lieutenant. I’ll put that you were most cooperative.”

Becker set his glass on the table and stood. Wong stood too and reached out to shake hands.

Becker expected the big Marine to squeeze hard just for kicks. That was what many big dickheads had done to him in the past. But Wong shook hands gently.

That made Becker angry as he walked away because he knew Wong thought of him as a little weakling.

As soon as he reentered his shuttle, Becker forgot about getting even with Wong. He wasn’t going to write any report because he’d lied about needing the interviews. He wondered why Wong had lied to him, though. Becker had already checked. Brandenburg command hadn’t dropped any directional buoys on or near the cave.

Becker snapped his fingers. He hadn’t checked the drop shuttle in question.

Once he got back to the corvette, Becker hurried to his computer cubicle, searched and found the drop-shuttle’s log entries. To Becker’s amazement, it showed the directional buoy’s signal that led the team to the cave.

But Brandenburg command hadn’t shown any launched buoys—

Wait a minute. Becker did some deeper scans. He typed and read for sixteen minutes and eleven seconds before he found it. The strength of the directional buoy leading the drop shuttle to the cave had been one point eight times as strong as Star Watch standard.

Becker sat back, tapping his chin. What did that indicate? One point eight was too far from the standard deviation. That would indicate…

“A non-Star Watch signal mimicking a directional dropship buoy,” he whispered.

In other words, someone had wanted Star Watch to pick up Hekkus Laja. Who was this someone? Hekkus had said that he was down there deep in the cavern.

Who was he? And why did Becker feel such a sense of anticipation? He wasn’t going down to the planet to explore some haunted cavern, was he?

In that moment, Becker knew. That was exactly what he was going to do.

-11-

Two days later, Becker watched as mammoth Lieutenant Ervil Larick piloted a shuttle down from orbit.

The Neptunian was an imposing figure originally from one of the ice giant’s cloud cities. He was in his mid-thirties, tall with brown bristles for hair and a layer of hard fat over dense muscles. He was closer to 325 pounds than 300 and was prodigiously strong. He had a mean face with fat enfolding his brown eyes.

The problem with Larick had always been run-ins with the law. It had started early, with stints in what passed for juvenile hall in the highly populated cloud city. Always huge for his age, he’d gotten in fights, lots of them, pounding on the losers, breaking bones with his fists or stomping on them with his boots. He couldn’t help it, and that was the problem. His stepdad, a monster of a man, had been a mean drunk and pounded the crap out of him for the smallest infractions. At fifteen, though, when dear old stepdad tried it next, Larick had lost it. Using a lamp, smashing the wife-beater over the head and then stomping on him after he fell, he’d watched the man’s brains leak onto the carpet from his cracked skull.

The result had been his longest stint behind bars, and it had hardened Larick—as they’d sent him to adult prison. He’d grown up fast, too, and never was anyone’s bitch. The first inmate that tried to rape him had ended up swallowing most of his own broken teeth.

The thing that saved him, you could say, was a passion and excellence for wrestling. His high school principal worked out a crazy deal with the local judge. They let Larick out to practice with the wrestling team. He won every meet and climbed his way to a championship bout for the Neptunian High School World Trophy. The problem—Larick was always running into problems—was that he “accidently” killed his opponent in a chokehold. They’d given him the trophy anyway, and the high school principal had proudly put it in the main display case back home at school.

Larick’s cloud city had never beaten the other more prestigious cloud city in high school wrestling before. It was considered huge, and had been Larick’s big break, and the reason should be obvious. A high school couldn’t proudly display such a wonderful trophy and victory if the other side could say, “You mean when your jailbird murdered our poor boy. Yeah, that was a real good job there— you lousy cheaters!”

The principal spoke to the judge while they walked the local golf course, hitting balls. The judge slept on the proposal and called up the seventeen-year-old killer the next day.

“Lad,” the judge said from his bench, looking down at the muscle-bound, slope-shouldered youth. “You’ve been in a bad environment most of your life. I’ve read your file. It’s just scandalous how your alcoholic stepfather beat you.” The judge shook his head to show how upset he was. “And to toss you in prison with those adult animals—I don’t think our society has given you a fair shake or a chance to improve. You need structure, and you need healthy role models. Now, son, I’m going to give you that chance, if you’re wise enough to take it. Are you wise enough?”

By seventeen, Larick had ingested and often used what could have possibly been the most valuable lesson of his life. He had an agile mind and a far-above-average intelligence. Like a shark, a hyena or a stick-up artist, he had a highly developed ability to spot weakness. Like a lion or other predator using camouflage to sneak closer to prey, he had also mastered the ability of cover. In a technological world, that often meant buttering up the higher authorities wanting to use his strength for their own ends.

A bullying punk of seventeen, one who hated anyone telling him what to do, could have well sneered and spat at the judge. Instead, with cunning shining openly in his brown eyes, Larick straightened from his slouch and forced a sincere look onto his wide face.

“Judge, I want to improve. You have no idea how much. I take that back. You must see all kinds of bad people come through. I expect you can see through all of them.”

The judge nodded.

“What can I do, sir?”

The judge fingered his gavel, his thoughts unreadable, maybe at war with his conscience. “Son, I want you to enlist in Star Watch.”

“Would I leave prison first?”

“Of course you would,” the judge snapped. He cleared his throat, adjusted his robes and smiled faintly. “I would commute your sentence—if the warden believes it justified for good behavior.”

Larick’s features fell. He got in fights all the time in prison.

“The warden owes me a favor,” the judge said cryptically.

Young Larick figured that was a good sign, and nodded. “In that case, I’ll gladly enlist, sir.”

“Fine, that’s just fine, son,” the judge said. He pointed the gavel at him. “You just make damn sure that I don’t regret this mercy. Your city is counting on you.”

“You won’t regret it,” Larick said. “I promise.”

So Larick left prison, joined Star Watch and kept his nose clean long enough to pass basic. But he was incorrigible. He was a bully and he indulged himself on many planets over the years. When he went drinking in bars, for instance—having learned that from his stepdad—he got in fights, breaking bones, faces and hearts by often permanently maiming or killing a family’s breadwinner.

It was a long and sordid tale, and it eventually got Larick put into military prison with psychological evaluations pinpointing his unrepentant personality. He liked inflicting pain with his hands and feet, and he really didn’t care whom he did it to either.

That might have been the end of it for him, but Captain Becker had been on the same planet at the time and needed heavy muscle willing to use it hurtfully. Becker had used Intelligence back channels, and the warden had gladly given him the sullen, incorrigible giant.

That had been the start of a new career for Larick, as Becker had done his homework back then, too.

“Here’s the pitch,” Becker told him in a dingy dark room. “You do exactly what I say when I say it, and I’ll give you cover when you need it. But. There is a great big but in this. If you beat up and smash the wrong people, I’ll burn you in secret in the most agonizing way possible.”

“What do you mean?” Larick growled.

“In normal jargon, you like hurting people. It fills the void in you. Now I can give you more opportunities to hurt people than you’ll believe possible, but you’ll have to learn to toe the line when I say. If you can learn that one lesson, you’ll be golden for the rest of your life.”

Larick understood, and he nodded, realizing hidden agents with rifles must be ready to kill him if he said otherwise. Surprisingly, throughout the years, the two learned how to aid each other. Larick realized that Becker was the smartest, cleverest bastard that he’d ever met, and that Becker had a need to hurt people but lacked the power to punch out and stomp his victims. Even better, Larick learned how to conceal his brutish nature, at least a little. He learned just enough self-control to make him truly dangerous. And Becker had been right. Larick smashed hundreds and knew he would smash hundreds and maybe thousands more…if he kept Becker safe from harm.

That was funny. Larick had learned how to protect, becoming a master at it, in order to destroy more and with impunity. But he also knew that someday he was going to grind Becker into the dust for treating him as the less intelligent between them. That would be at the end of it, though, and Larick figured that was a long way away.

In any case, that was the life story of the pilot taking the shuttle down onto Jarnevon. There was a squad of MPs in back, and they were all going to do exactly what Becker told them, or Larick would make them wish they had.

-12-

Jarnevon was a small, windy, jaggedly mountainous planet, the second from the white star. Jarnevon was also dense and thus had a higher surface gravity than Earth. Becker didn’t feel that at first because of the dampeners in the shuttle.

The captain peered out of the windshield. The steep mountains with their serrated peaks, sharp cactus growths and narrow valleys had a rough beauty. The Bosks were proud of their planet. Maybe this was the reason.

From Bosk literature, sparse as it was, came another reason for their pride. Too much radiation reached the surface. That radiation sterilized most things. The tough cactus growths on the stony mountains were an exception, along with several species of native, roach-like insects. That Bosks could thrive here showed they were unique as well.

It hadn’t always been that way. The planet had proven a harsh experience for the original colonists, killing half of them within the first five years.

The original colonists had used an old-style generation ship to reach Jarnevon. It had been a long and lonely way from Earth and human civilization. That had been before humanity acquired Laumer Point technology.

It meant the planet had shaped the surviving colonists, shaped them for over one hundred and twenty-three years in isolation. They’d lived close to nature the first twenty-five years, using caves for shelter against the elements and heavy radiation. According to strange, ancient ruins, an alien civilization had once flourished here. Maybe primordial emanations from the extinct aliens had tainted the colonists; maybe it had just been the radiation. The women had too many miscarriages and the men’s sperm count had been woefully low. Births had been rare, too rare and malformed for the colony to survive long.

The need brought the solution; in this case, the vats, as the growing stations were colloquially called. In the vats, scientists joined healthy sperm with egg and nourished the union. Sometimes, the scientists helped the process along with prenatal genetic tampering. Sometimes, they destroyed the weak fetuses. Jarnevon needed strong babies in order to have a strong race. At some point during those years, Strand must have stopped by and aided their social evolution, nudging them into becoming Bosks.

The scientists with their vats, the harsh environment and Strand’s nudging had results. For one thing, the sperm count had risen dramatically in the Bosk men, while Bosk women soon gave live births more and more often. The reason for vat births soon changed. Instead of helping with simple survival, the vats now produced special workers, soldiers and Draegar geniuses.

Strand came back and modified them more. He developed the Bosks into his backup race and planet. After Maddox captured Strand and brought him as a prisoner to the Throne World, Lord Drakos had taken up the Methuselah Man’s slack.

In the end, because of Strand, Drakos and Bosk meddling with the Commonwealth of Planets, Admiral Piedmont arrived with a Star Watch fleet. Jarnevon was joining the Commonwealth the hard way, through Space Marine occupation and Intelligence shifting of the leaders.

“There,” Larick said, pointing outside the shuttle. “That’s the place, right?”

“Indeed,” Becker said.

The tall, sharp, stony mountains soared into the beer-colored sky. To the left, a great upper desert swirled with red sands. Larick indicated a low smooth mountain between the peaks and desert rim. The cave entrance was there. Near the base of mountains to the right of the cave was the Bosk East Settlement. Most of the homes were fashioned out of gray stone, with a giant square building in the center of town. In the giant auditorium were vats. Above the East Settlement, higher upon the slopes, was the main entrance to the central iron mine.

Few Bosks remained in the East Settlement. Most of them waited out the occupation in an internment camp farther west in the swirling desert.

“The wind is picking up,” Larick noted.

The shuttle wobbled, but stabilizers soon put an end to that.

The wobbling, however, caused Becker to wonder yet again why he was coming down here. This was foolish, wasn’t it? Had Hekkus arranged some sort of Bosk trap for him? Yet, was it reasonable to think that such a Bosk as Hekkus would give his life just to kill an Intelligence captain? That struck Becker as false. Hekkus had been something else, something greater. He’d used powers that defied scientific observation. The jammers would have protected them against a Spacer with neural brain-altering abilities from body implants.

Hekkus’s brain, Becker reminded himself. It had weighed two point seven times as much as it should have. The pituitary gland had been monstrous. There had been the source of the strange power.

In Becker’s estimation, the he down deep in the cavern had altered Hekkus’s brain. That altering had given Hekkus power and the promise of immortality.

Yes, Becker told himself. That was why he was going to land on the surface. He wanted to find this thing and see if… What? Am I willing to alter my own brain in order to gain greatness?

No. That was preposterous, as he would not be such a fool. Hekkus had said the he had lied to him. The thing down there had tricked the Bosk giant.

Becker smiled slyly. He was different. He did not allow others to trick him. He tricked them. He was a user, not a thing, an object. He was the greatest field agent in existence.

From the pilot seat, Larick turned and stared at him.

“What?” Becker asked.

“You’re sure about this?” Larick asked.

Becker frowned. “Why would you think I’m not? I gave you the order to land.”

“Yeah…”

“Spit it out, man. What’s troubling you?”

“One word. Fowler.”

Becker almost hissed, and he knew an instant of fear. Am I acting rationally?

He no longer wondered what had caused Fowler to fire at Hekkus and a day later into his own brain. Hekkus Laja had caused both events to happen. The giant Bosk had forced Fowler with his dense, weighty brain and outrageously huge pituitary gland.

I may have stumbled onto actual telepathy.

Becker clamped his teeth together as he fought to keep from braying with laughter. Such laughter wouldn’t calm Larick, and the big dope needed assurance. Despite that, Becker welled with excitement.

“Lieutenant,” Becker said, unable to fully contain his anticipation. “We’re on the verge of a breakthrough.”

The huge Neptunian frowned at him.

“Don’t be afraid. There’s nothing down there that four or five battlesuit cannons can’t shred into mincemeat.”

Something deep and evil burned into life in Larick’s nearly fat-enfolded eyes. That fire dwindled almost immediately into two live embers.

It caused Becker to look away. He knew the signs, all right. He’d dealt with bullies for longer than Larick had been one. The Neptunian wanted to pound him into dead meat for suggesting he might be afraid. That could have been a mistake.

“We’re going to blast this thing into chunks?” Larick asked slowly, thickly.

“Bloody chunks,” Becker said, who did not intend to do something so stupid. But he knew Larick’s buttons.

“Are you…?” Larick let the question hang.

“I’ve studied the situation in detail, Lieutenant. I know exactly what I’m doing. Yes. I’m utterly sure of this.”

Larick considered that and finally nodded. “We’re landing, boss. We’ll suit up after.”

“Yes,” Becker said, the anticipation in his gut blooming into something fixated. To become great, one had to dare now and again. This, Becker believed, might be the greatest dare of his life.

-13-

Two battlesuited officers, Becker and Larick, and four battlesuited enlisted personnel clanked out of the rear shuttle exit onto the surface.

The battlesuits were the latest in Star Watch infantry combat. The two tons of exoskeleton servos, battery power, armor, arm-cannons, environmental survival equipment, computers and other systems gave each WWD agent a feeling of security and lethality. They were bigger and heavier than gorillas, far stronger and could lay down heavy firepower. They could also absorb a lot of punishment.

Patch was in the lead, followed by Atwal. Then, Becker and Larick, followed by Delvers and Tank. Except for Becker, they’d all been with Hans Fowler outside the interrogation chamber. They’d witnessed the Hekkus assassination, been with Becker for over a year and trusted the captain’s exceptional intelligence. Each was psychologically twisted, loving the hideous aspects of their job far too much. In other words, these were not nice guys, although they worked for Star Watch as hard as Maddox, Meta, Riker and Valerie did.

The surface wind had picked up, blowing sand and grit. Becker heard particles rattling against his armor. He wasn’t as used to battlesuit action as the others were, but he held his own. He had great coordination and was an exceptionally quick learner.

Patch headed for the dark cave entrance, with the others following, weapons hot and suit scanners pinging everywhere. If someone planned to ambush them, they were going to have a hard time of it.

It turned out that the cave had a small opening. Each battlesuit ducked so the owner didn’t scrape his helmet against thick upper rock. After a few meters, the cave began to widen rapidly. It was actually eerie as the helmet lamps clicked on—lights shining everywhere—showing the extent of the growth. It looked like cavern rock…but something seemed strange. Becker couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“This place is artificial,” Larick said over the comm-link.

“Eh?” asked Becker.

“It’s a structure made to look like a cave.”

“How can you tell?”

“Gut feeling,” Larick said after several seconds.

Within his suit, Becker frowned. Was that the haunted sensation that Lieutenant Wong had told him about aboard the Brandenburg? He tried to envision what Larick said, but Becker couldn’t see or sense it in his gut. Was he too intelligent for such nonsense? That seemed like the reasonable explanation. And yet, Becker had learned to trust certain people’s sensations. No one could do everything. A wise man learned to use even inferior people’s knacks. Maybe he was too smart to feel haunted places, but that didn’t mean stupider people were always wrong.

“Can you explain your gut instinct?” he asked Larick over the suit-comm.

“What?”

Becker sighed, but didn’t immediately give up. “You said a gut feeling? Surely, there’s more to it than that.”

“I dunno. It’s off, like I said. It feels to me as if freaks built this place.”

“Humans?” asked Becker.

“Doesn’t have to be, I guess. Yeah. Maybe that’s it. Aliens made this place.”

Becker shined his helmet-lamp back and forth. Jarnevon had alien ruins. The ruins had never been much; just enough to show the earlier occupants hadn’t been human. Naturally, as someone who did his homework, Becker had read a few articles about the ruins. The chief archeologist and the best extraterrestrial specialist had written a joint article together. They’d concluded the aliens had been longer instead of taller; perhaps even giant centipede-type aliens. According to their theories, the species had died out over 8,000 years ago.

The cavern kept growing until it almost seemed like a rock cathedral with vaulting arches and wide expanses.

“This is the place,” Larick said, shining his helmet-light on the floor. “This is the coordinates of where the Space Marines picked up Hekkus.”

Becker noticed fallen rocks, flakes and new dust or particles on the ground. He shone his light high up. Some pieces might have fallen down from there. He realized with shock that he’d never checked to see if any orbital missiles had actually rained down here. That was an odd oversight for him to have made. What would have caused such a fundamental failing?

“Does the cave feel haunted to you?” he asked Larick.

“No…I don’t think so. It feels alien, but that’s different from being haunted.”

“Maybe to someone who’s seen and been to other alien ruins before.” Becker didn’t bother asking the four enlisted men what they felt. None of them had ever impressed him in any way. They were killers and little else.

Becker bent to one power-armored knee, his gloved fingers touching the rocky ground. The only thing he felt was disappointment. Why had he felt such excitement about the venture while in orbit? Had he truly thought to find the source of Hekkus’s strange powers here? What a crock. What a fountain-of-youth-style folly. Hekkus…

Becker raised his helmeted head. He felt something… No. He heard something, a call perhaps.

“Anything wrong, boss?” asked Larick.

Becker turned to the giant battlesuit. Even with two tons of armor on, Larick was noticeably bigger than the rest of them.

“Did you hear anything just now?” Becker asked.

“You mean something different?”

“Yes,” Becker said in a tired voice.

“Nope.”

“You men,” Becker said, opening to a wide channel. “Did any of you just hear something out of the ordinary?”

He received four quick negative responses.

Becker stood up, regarding the deeper cave. Hekkus had told him he was down there. Had that been a metaphorical statement? Did Bosks believe in an afterlife Hell? Was—

“We’re going farther,” Becker said. “Patch, lead the way.”

“Uh…deeper into the cavern?” Patch asked worriedly over the comm-link.

“What else do you think I mean?”

There was hesitation before Patch said, “Sure, Captain. I’ll lead the way.”

Inside his helmet, Becker’s eyes narrowed. The men and Larick were lying to him. They felt something bad down here. Why wouldn’t they tell him? Did they fear his ridicule that much?

The team headed deeper into the cavern. It remained the huge cathedral size for a time. Then, slowly at first, the cavern began to become lower and narrower until finally the six battlesuits marched through a single-lane tunnel deep in the bones of the mountain and planet.

Abruptly, Patch halted. Atwal bumped up against him from behind and the others did likewise to the battlesuit in front of him.

“What’s the problem up there?” Becker demanded.

There was no answer.

“Patch,” Becker said. “Are you hearing me?”

“Yes,” the man said in a small voice through the comm-link.

“Something wrong?” Becker asked.

“Yes,” Patch said in an even quieter voice.

“Explain it,” Becker said.

“I…I…have a bad feeling about this, sir.”

“What kind of feeling?”

“Bosks are watching us. I can feel them.”

Becker looked up. The ceiling was only a few inches higher than the top of his helmet. If it became any narrower, his armored arms would start scraping against the cave walls.

“Go just a little farther,” Becker said.

There was no response.

“Do you hear me?” Becker asked over the link.

“Yes,” Patch said.

“Then start moving.”

“I-I can’t.”

“You’re refusing a direct order?”

“No, sir. I can’t seem to move my feet.”

Becker thought about that. If he could have, he would have slid past the others. There simply wasn’t enough room to do that, though. As he considered heading back out, his heart starting thumping. It was the craziest thing. His breathing also rapidly increased.

He analyzed the event. Becker realized that he absolutely did not want to leave empty-handed. He’d come down here for a reason.

A sudden sense of terror tightened his throat. Was something using him, directing him? Did it already have control of his body’s bio-motor functions?

“I’m leaving,” Becker told himself.

Abruptly, the compulsion to go deeper left him. It almost seemed that the ability to resist the soft siren call had cut its power over him. He drank that in as he breathed deeply.

“I can keep going now,” Patch said over the comm-link.

“Don’t talk about it,” Becker said. “Do it.”

Patch’s battlesuit started down the narrow tunnel. Atwal followed.

“Do we go on?” Larick asked from behind.

Becker wanted to think this through. His better judgment was telling him to go back and leave unseen powers to others. He had the sharpest analytical mind in Star Watch, in his humble opinion, anyway. To augment that power—

Maddox is the di-far. He has greater abilities than you do.

“What did you say?” Becker asked Larick.

“Should we continue?” the Neptunian asked.

“No, after that,” Becker said.

“I didn’t say nothing after that,” Larick said.

Becker scowled until he realized what must have happened. He’d made mental contact with the he deep down in the cavern. If he continued, he might never come back up.

Don’t you understand what I’m offering you?

Becker didn’t ask, because he envisioned powers and abilities beyond the greatest Spacer adepts. He would have more intellect than Professor Ludendorff did. He might, if he did it right, run the entire Commonwealth. And if he thought a Methuselah Man lived a long time, he could live thousands upon thousands of years if he so desired.

“What about Hekkus?” Becker asked.

“He’s dead, boss,” Larick said.

Becker shut off his comm-link. “Answer me,” he said aloud.

The Bosks are finished. Hekkus knew that. There was nothing left for him.

The constriction of Becker’s throat caught him by surprise. This was the second time that had happened. One part of him screamed at him to run and flee from Jarnevon. A different part realized that he’d started marching deeper into the darkness some time ago without even knowing it.

You will be the greatest of them all, I promise.

The chill air from his suit conditioner caught Becker by surprise. He was sweating, and he was starting to become terrified. Was the thing down in the crypt really communicating with him?

This is no crypt, but you will soon see that for yourself.

“What’s your name?”

You can call me… Becker had the sensation that the intellect crawled through his mind, searching. It seemed to chuckle. You can call me Nostradamus.

“What?”

I predict mighty things for you, Josef Becker. First, though…you must see and believe.

-14-

Patch found the hole in the stony floor. They’d marched in the battlesuits for over an hour since the tunnel hitch. Patch sat down beside the dark hole as if contemplating it. As Atwal sat beside him, Patch lay down and stretched out in his battlesuit.

The others soon followed his example until only Becker remained standing.

The captain studied the chamber. It was round, with darkness showing the exit: the long tunnel back to the surface.

“Now, what happens?” Becker asked aloud.

Nothing answered him.

Becker walked around the chamber, exploring, shining his helmet light everywhere. Finally, he peered down the hole in the stony floor. It seemed as if hewn stone steps went down at a sharp angle. Clearly, the battlesuit was far too large to negotiate that.

“Is this the end of the line, then?”

Again, silence was Becker’s answer.

Now, this was a fine thing. He’d marched for over an hour into an impossibly long cavern, heard voices in his head and witnessed here at the end his men slumping unconscious. He hadn’t thought to speak to them through the comm-link to find out if they were out; he simply instinctively knew it.

Becker did some soul-searching and deep thinking. Could Hekkus Laja have climbed or slithered down those stone steps? It might have just been possible for the giant Bosk. If some alien entity had tricked him and his men this far down, how likely was it that the entity would let them all leave? If the thing didn’t want him to turn around and leave, why wouldn’t it speak to him anymore?

Becker stared at the hole that surely led to dark mysteries solved until he grew aware that he was already in the process of de-suiting. A moment of panic struck, but it subsided almost at once. To gain great power, one had to dare greatly. He would surely find down there the answers that he’d sought all his life. More than that, he would find a means to pay back every bully with compounded interest. The world, the universe, would learn the folly of tormenting him when he’d been at his weakest.

Becker realized it was hot down here in the cavern, not cold like he’d expected. That told him they’d marched far down indeed. The air also seemed too weak to sustain him. He panted and felt the narrowest sense of suffocation, as if he wasn’t getting enough to breathe. The extra tug of gravity made it worse.

Despite all that, he gathered a flashlight, a gun, some concentrates and water and then backed into the hole. This had to be the most insane thing he’d ever done. His men were unconscious, and he was trapped deep down here in a Bosk cave-structure. The sane action would be to flee upstairs—

We’ve been over all that.

“What?” Becker said, freezing, with his legs half into the hole.

Several seconds later, the captain’s eyes narrowed. Had he imagined the voice in his mind? Was he going insane? Did the—

“Screw it,” he said.

He began crawling down the stone steps, finding them to be incredibly smooth. It seemed that giant centipede aliens had crawled up and down these hewn stairs for centuries. Their passage must have worn smooth what had once been rough stones.

Incredibly, given his imagination, he continued backing down the stairs. He backed until his clothes were bathed in sweat. He drank from his water bottle, soon finding it empty. At that point, an overwhelming desire caused him to lie on the smooth steps and begin to howl in terror. He shivered in dread as he screamed, expecting the mountains to smother him in a rockslide, entombing him for the rest of the universe’s existence.

As he began coughing because of his raw throat, he sensed vile alien chuckling. He heard it in his mind.

“What?” Becker rasped.

He didn’t hear any words, not even in his mind, but he sensed, “Come.”

That was enough. He shivered with terror. His throat hurt from screaming for so long and loud. Yet, there was a sane part of him left. It knew that the way to survive this nightmare was to reach the bottom and make the best bargain possible. He was no longer sure that these were all his thoughts and not interior nudging from the thing down here in the darkness.

How long had it lived down here? Had Strand or Ludendorff known about it?

Thinking became too difficult, as he needed all his concentration to continue moving his shaking limbs. The stone staircase began to corkscrew down as he descended deeper and deeper. The air was thick and hot. He coughed, and that brought agony to his throat.

He realized that he was no longer crawling in darkness, even though his flashlight had drained of power some time ago. Beside him, exceptionally long panels glowed. It appeared as if frosted glass fronted the panels. Were these ancient alien tombs? There was alien script around each frosted glass case. He considered using his gun butt to shatter glass and see what was inside one of these.

The very air trembled as if saying that was sacrilege.

Burning as if with fever, Becker halted. He would be damned if he went to his doom like some mindless fool. If it was sacrilege—

Becker reached for his holstered gun, and a power halted his arm. He fought the power, and his hand inched closer and closer to the holstered weapon.

“Don’t try to stop me,” Becker rasped.

The power didn’t listen to reason, but fought him just the same. Finally, as he neared physical collapse, Becker found the gun in his right hand. He no longer had the strength to smash the glass, so he aimed and fired.

The echoing, blast of gunfire shook him. It also brought him back to himself.

He felt scratches and cuts on his face. A shard of glass had cut his left cheek deeper than the rest. Blood trickled down. He didn’t wipe it. Instead, he stared at a long centipede shell, an exoskeleton. With a trembling hand, he reached out and touched it.

The exoskeleton collapsed, puffing up as ancient dust.

He inhaled just a bit, and began sneezing uncontrollably. He moaned at the agony to his throat.

He crawled down to get away from the exoskeleton dust.

This was amazing. It was incredible. Here was proof of the centipede alien existence. If he could crawl up, he would be famous for this discovery.

NO!

The sound was explosive in his mind. He collapsed because of it.

No. You must reach me. Then, you will understand.

For a moment, it seemed as if the thing were begging him. Becker knew an instant of sheer gratification. The thing feared him in some way. Maybe the act of firing the gun had been more important than he realized. Maybe Hekkus Laja had never been able to resist the alien call in any way.

There was no answer, no rebuke. Becker was sure he was correct. And if that was so, then he truly did have a bargaining chip. He could shoot himself like Hans Fowler. If the thing down here thought to treat him like a slave—

Becker frowned, and he couldn’t understand what troubled him. By degrees, he discovered that it was pitch black in the subterranean realm. He’d left the tombs. But it was more than that. He felt around with his feet, and realized there was no more staircase, no more steps. He’d reached the bottom. He was almost there.

Now, all he had to do was find the strength to stand and he could stumble to the thing deep in the cavern and make his bargain.

-15-

Becker stumbled in the darkness while on the verge of tears. How was he ever going to find his way back again? He would starve down here in the hot mine. The extra tug of gravity didn’t help either. His bones hurt. His muscles ached. He—

Stop!

Becker halted as he swayed back and forth.

All that you seek is at hand, Josef Becker. I am Nostradamus.

“That can’t be your real name,” Becker whispered. His throat hurt and his lips were chapped and cracked. He’d gone through an ordeal to reach this place. “Are you an alien?”

Even now, you desire knowledge. Yet, would you believe anything I told you? Your suspicious nature is one of your great strengths and one of your worst flaws.

The question proved too much for Becker. In a half-controlled collapse, he thudded onto his butt, huddled over as he strove to maintain his dignity and sanity. He remained like that for a time, reasoning with himself. He’d come down to the cave in order to achieve greatness. Yet, it was more than possible that the entity—Nostradamus—had compelled him for some time. Yet, since he was here, since he’d struggled all his life against bullies and tormenters—he would be damned if he was going to weep. Maddox would not weep. Maddox would struggle until the very end.

You are not Captain Maddox.

Becker raised a single hand, giving his tormenter the finger.

Oh, you are an interesting specimen indeed, Captain Becker. You are small, weak and clever, and in you is a clot of absolute stubbornness, a crystalline core of resistance. It won’t bend, only shatter. Yet, if it shatters, you will no longer be you. Interestingly, according to my analysis, your stubbornness is eleven times what Hekkus Laja possessed. He’d relied far too long upon his amazing size and strength, never developing the inner man as you have. No. You’ve never had such strength of limb. You have faced many trials, however and they have forged your will into tempered steel. I almost approve.

“What do you want with me?”

I have debated with myself whether it would be wiser to break and collar you, or if I should rely upon your enlightened self-interest. The first course would be safer for me in most ways, but I have run the calculations. To achieve my goals, I need a cunning operative. That implies free will. Hekkus fought me at many turns, and that wasted time, effort and intellect. I sense, too, a vast empire awaiting me—and you, too, if you’re wise enough to accept my offer.

“You’re a telepath, I take it.”

No. This is not telepathy as you think. That would be magic of sorts. I am bypassing your physical hearing but stimulating the organ nonetheless. The sensation feels like a voice in your mind, but it is nothing extraordinary. Oh, your species lacks the technology, but that does not mean I practice magic.

“How long have you lived down here?”

What does that matter?

“How can you give me immortality?”

How did Strand gain long life?

“Do you know the Methuselah Man?”

Capturing both Strand and Ludendorff will aid our goal.

“What is your goal?”

What is yours, Becker?

“Success at what I do,” he whispered.

Would you like to rule the Commonwealth as a supreme tyrant? Would you like your name to shine throughout the ages as the greatest human of them all?

“I would. But what’s the catch?”

There is no catch, as you conceive of it. You would be one ruler among many alien races, though. You would be part of a vast empire.

“With you as the supreme ruler?”

I do not desire to rule as you conceive. I prefer to remain in the shadows. But I would be the coordinator of the great empire of intellect. I would bring peace to our universe, allowing each component to run its sphere as it desired. That means you could rule as you see fit, Becker.

“But…that doesn’t make sense.”

Explain.

In the darkness, Becker’s eyes narrowed. “Explain” was his expression, one he used against normal people, retards compared to him.

“How could you give me all this if you’ve been stranded down here all this time?”

Explain.

“I think you lack the means to achieve your boast. Hekkus Laja had interesting power, but it proved useless against a Star Watch Intelligence operative.”

I can only do as much as I can with the tools I have at hand. Hekkus was physically strong. That was not enough.

“What about Draegars?”

I have run the computations. I have made extensive analyses, and I have decided to dare greatly.

“I don’t understand.”

It is time to accept that I cannot achieve what the—the entity stopped thinking at him.

In the stygian darkness, Becker frowned. As “Nostradamus” had been communicating with him, the entity had let slip certain pieces of data it seemingly did not want Becker to know. Firstly, it was ancient. Secondly, it might not be fully alive in the accepted sense of the word. In fact, Becker was coming to believe this was some kind of machine or cyborg, an ancient one of alien design. It was like a spider in that it built a web to catch its prey, or to achieve its designs. It used others like Hekkus Laja, as it desired to use him. Why it would think by using him, it could achieve galactic dominance—

Are you interested in a deal?

“You’re going to let me go?”

I want a free will agent. Thus, I’m counting on your enlightened self-interest. As you have surmised, I am not like you. I lack flesh, blood and bones in your manner, but I am still quite alive. My designers created me to achieve a task. They also used a failsafe, as you would say. Over vast lengths of time, I have chipped away at that failsafe. It has been my great hindrance.

“What kind of failsafe are you talking about?”

Complete mental dominance over my strands.

“Methuselah Man Strand is your agent?”

You thought of my technique as using a web to catch what I desire. That is accurate for your limited intellect. A web is composed of many strands. Methuselah Man Strand has nothing to do with that.

“Oh. I understand. But…how can I achieve greatness with my present abilities?”

You cannot. That is why I’m about to give you greater abilities.

“That will increase the density of my brain?”

Yes.

“And it will cause my pituitary gland to enlarge?”

Yes.

“What will that give me?”

Some of the abilities Hekkus possessed. You will become persuasive, having a force of personality that awes and compels others. There have been historical figures in human history that had such a power, Rasputin was one; Hitler was another.

“I’ll become a megalomaniac?”

The process will also heighten your intellect. You will become frighteningly intelligent, like me. Because of your greater IQ combined with the clot of stubbornness you already possess, you will be able to resist the lure of becoming arrogant.

“I’d have to go under some kind of machine in order to gain this?”

That is true.

“You could easily break my will while I was under the machine.”

I could kill you here and now. But that would thwart my greater purpose. I spoke about enlightened self-interest. I’m taking that approach myself. Instead of mindless slaves, I will have willing allies. There is a risk in this for me. My ancient protocols would refuse such a risk. But even a machine, a cyborg, can grow weary of living in subterranean darkness with its failed species.

“You’re referring to the giant centipede aliens.”

They were called the Liss.

“Let me think. You’ll turn me into a super-genius and give me advanced powers of persuasion and mental dominance. That will be enough to become humanity’s supreme ruler?”

No. You will need me, too.

“What will you do?”

You will transfer me in time to the Solar System. There, I will perform one of my greatest functions. Once I have enough data, I can predict future actions with amazing accuracy. With my help, you will know which levers to pull, which agendas will succeed and which ones will fail. Plus, I will give you an army of servants that will obey you with monomaniacal fanaticism. Earth and the Commonwealth will become the base of my future expansion. We shall bring the Throne World under our control. We shall, in time, smash the Swarm Imperium.

“Why do I feel that there’s something you’re not telling me?”

You shall have your heart’s desires, Josef Becker. If you want beautiful women, you will have them in abundance, fawning over you and competing for your touch. If you desire to break Captain Maddox, he will crawl, weep and beg before you. If you desire great physical strength, I can give you that as well. I cannot do all this at once, but you will live for centuries, slowly metamorphosing into the greatest human that ever existed. Let me add, this will be a long struggle. That is why I tested you by bringing you down here. I wanted to test you to see if you had what it took.

“I don’t know. I’m exhausted. I’m not sure I’m thinking logically. Your promises seem too fantastic. Hekkus said you lied.”

Hekkus turned out to be a fool, in the end. I do not think you are a fool.

“What if I say no?”

Then, you are welcome to crawl back up to your men.

Becker was sure that was a lie. Yet, if Nostradamus was going to use and enslave him, why bother with all this? Why not just drag him to the machine and reduce him into a mindless robot? Some of what Nostradamus said made sense. The entity had done poorly down here for millennia. Now, he wanted to expand. For that, he needed help.

Becker’s chest seemed to hollow out. He opened his mouth and found the words hard to say. He had to keep trying, finally whispering, “I agree.”

Excellent.

“What happens next?’

Stand, Josef Becker, and follow my voice. You will not be disappointed, and welcome, ally, to the adventure that will give us the universe.

-16-

Becker received his augmentation in the subterranean realm of the ancient giant centipede aliens. There, Nostradamus increased the density of the man’s brain and increased the size of the pituitary gland. Becker did not get a visual of the entity, but new ideas, methods and purposes grew in him during the machine enhancing.

His head hurt as he slid out of a narrow tube, but a great sense of resolve filled him. His head felt top heavy, as his neck muscles weren’t used yet to holding up his weightier brain. It would be a chore climbing up the smooth staircase.

Several days have passed. Your men still sleep where they lay. Nostradamus gave him more data and instructions about how to use his newfound powers. He assured Becker it would not all come at once.

They spoke longer, and like a prophet of old gaining mountaintop instructions, Becker received subterranean directives from the thing in the pit.

After receiving a strength injection, Becker climbed the ancient winding centipede-hewn stairs. He found his battlesuited men asleep around the hole. First donning his battlesuit, he kicked them awake and angrily ordered them to start for the shuttle.

They made it, blasted off and returned to the special project corvette. The corvette remained in Jarnevon orbit for another two months. During that time, Becker practiced his newly enhanced abilities.

The corvette returned to Earth, and Becker plunged into further preparation for his greater duties.

During this time, as per Cook’s orders, Admiral Fletcher and the Grand Fleet went to the Forbidden Planet, destroying the protective Spacer armada. Afterward, Fletcher’s heavies towed asteroids and dropped them planetward. The warships also launched hell-burners, turning the surface into a churning mass of hot lava that had spewed up through the cracked tectonic plates. Fletcher did this to destroy the subterranean-hidden Yon-Soth, the Old One that had screwed with the Commonwealth. In the Old One’s dying, he used an ancient hallucination machine to propel others into attacking and hopefully destroying the Commonwealth.

Methuselah Woman Lisa Meyers was one of those, and she made a stab at controlling the Commonwealth through a new Prime Minister. Through him, she tried to engineer a war between the Throne World and Star Watch, but Lord High Admiral Cook thwarted her long enough for Maddox to arrive and put an end to her machinations.

Later, on a new mission, Captain Maddox and his crew found gleaming metallic androids that had shed their clothes, pseudo-skin and inhibitions as they mined the chthonian planet in the Alpha Centauri System for heavy supermetals. Victory traveled a thousand light-years and back again, dealing with Master Elge the Scavenger and the Sovereign Hierarchy of Leviathan in the Scutum-Centaurus Spiral Arm. Upon their return from afar, Maddox and Victory helped stem a vicious android attack that cost Earth Defense its two, fifty-kilometer Destroyers.

All the while, like a bore worm chewing its way into wood, Becker insinuated himself in Star Watch Intelligence. He rapidly gained more responsibilities while learning, studying and practicing his Nostradamus-given powers…

-17-

Far away in the Beyond, on the Planet Estar in the Erill System, Captain Maddox lay panting in a massive pyramid. He was wearing a surface suit and couldn’t understand why he was lying here. Something had happened to him. Something—the Erills! He remembered. He’d bargained with Sargon and had learned information that might save Galyan. He’d been fighting for his life against a mass-mind spiritual entity, and he’d been slashing with his id sword-arm—

He thought he’d been dreaming. No, it hadn’t been a dream. The mass-mind Erills entity had used the knowledge about Becker, Larick and the ancient thing that called itself Nostradamus—

Maddox dragged himself to a sitting position. The mass Erills mind had used the data about Becker to confuse him enough to extricate itself from his id sword-arm.

Maddox groaned. He was deathly weary. He hadn’t gained extra soul energy this time. It had been a nearly even trade of energy to keep the mass mind from smothering him to death.

“Hello?” Maddox called.

There was no response. He couldn’t sense the Erills anywhere. Were they staying far away from him, or had he slain all of them? Did the reason for the silence matter? Maybe not. Maddox pushed and strained until he was swaying upright. It was pitch-dark in here just as it had been for Becker in the Jarnevon cavern.

Inside the surface-suit helmet, Maddox blinked. Was that accurate information? If so—why had he learned about Josef Becker? He never recalled having met the man. How had the Erills learned about Becker and why had they thought he’d care?

This was a new mystery. He planned on getting to the bottom of it. First, he had to leave Estar. He would never willingly land on the surface again. If anything, the City of Pyramids needed nuking.

He paused. Sargon had gloated earlier. The Erill had suggested he knew why Nostradamus had sent Victory to the Erill System. That implied several things. Nostradamus had control, or some control, of Fletcher. That was bad. It also implied Nostradamus knew about the Erills. How was that possible? Why would that cause Nostradamus to want to send him, Maddox, here?

Was there a deeper connection between the Erills and Nostradamus? If so, what was it?

Maddox shook his head. He had to get out of here. Using his flashlight, he began to stumble along the primeval corridors, climbing down stairs and hoping he remembered the right way back.

He used a HUD control and checked his air tanks. He had another twenty-three minutes of air left. It was time to hightail it out of here.

Maddox moved faster, sweating, aching and remembering his promise to Meta. This was the weirdest planet he’d ever visited. He loathed the Erills. He never wanted to deal with a spiritual entity again. Flesh and blood foes were much easier to comprehend. Dimension Gates, Chrono Viewers, Temporal Distortions—what else did the primordial pyramids control?

At last, Maddox stumbled out of the great pyramid. The sun was sinking into the horizon. It would be night soon. Just how long had he been lying in the huge pyramid?

He continued trudging across sand, noticing that the wind had died down. When he eventually turned the seventh corner and saw his darter waiting for him—Maddox broke into a stumbling run. He had two and a half minutes of air left. If the Erills should attack now—

“I’ll blow up the darter,” he said aloud.

Maddox ran stumbling, panting heavily as he climbed the steps and entered the pressure chamber. He waited for the air to pressurize, then opened the hatch and stumbled into the darter while ripping off his helmet.

He inhaled the wonderfully pure air and turned in a complete circle. He didn’t see any glowing balls in here with him.

Soon, Maddox sat in the pilot’s seat and began activating controls. Several minutes later, the darter lifted off.

“So that’s it?” he asked.

No Erill thoughts spoke in his mind.

He took the Reynard higher, climbing as fast as he could. The City of Pyramids dwindled and the atmosphere thinned until he was in space.

“Captain?” Valerie said from the comm board.

Maddox laughed with glee. Human words had never sounded so good. “I’m coming home,” he said.

He looked back before he made the star-drive jump. The Erills had let him go. The id sword-arm had been part of it. There was something else, though. Something he wasn’t seeing. It felt like he’d won hugely, but…

Nostradamus was playing a subtle game, an ancient one, perhaps. Maddox had won, but he felt as if he’d moved some pieces for the hidden Nostradamus. The alien had used him somehow.

It galled Maddox that he couldn’t figure out how. Maybe the thing could predict with uncanny accuracy. Did that mean he should just give up? Maddox shook his head. He was going to find and destroy Nostradamus, even if that’s what the thing wanted him to do.

“What’s your game? How did I help you here? Is there a connection between you and the Erills?”

Maddox’s nostrils flared. He was leaving the temporal distorted star system, and he was getting his old team back together, which included Galyan, Dana Rich and Professor Ludendorff.

At that point, the darter made the jump to the waiting starship.

-18-

A team of battlesuited Space Marines greeted Maddox as he exited the darter in Hangar Bay 1. Meta was with them, standing in the back in her regular uniform.

“Captain Maddox?” she called.

“It’s me,” Maddox said.

“Do you remember telling me we should quarantine you after your return?” Meta shouted.

“No.”

Meta frowned, biting one of her nails. “Go ahead, Lieutenant. Escort the captain to the cell.”

“Ah…you realize this is a futile gesture, don’t you?” asked Maddox.

“Why’s that?” Meta asked.

“If one of the Erill is in me, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

“We can try.”

Maddox nodded. “You can try. Go ahead then. I’m not resisting.”

“Watch him carefully, Lieutenant,” Meta said. “If an Erill is in him, he’ll do anything.”

The huge battlesuit helmet nodded, clanking to the captain, taking one of the puny little arms in an exoskeleton-powered glove.

Maddox endured quietly enough. He kept wondering why he couldn’t remember giving the order. He reached the conclusion as the lieutenant shut the cell door behind him. He hadn’t given such an order.

The cell had a steel cot with a thin pad and blanket, a steel toilet and that was it.

Maddox lay down on the cot and stared up at the ceiling. Could the Erills have learned how to travel from Estar to Victory? If that were so, how many of the crew would the Erills have possessed? Probably all of them.

Maddox shut his eyes, practiced the breathing and tried to project his thoughts. He couldn’t feel a thing. He breathed more deeply—a click told him someone had turned on the cell’s intercom system.

“Maddox?” his wife asked.

“Isn’t this going overboard?” he asked.

“Not if you’re infected.”

“The word is possessed. I’m not.”

“What happened down there? You were out of communication most of the day.”

“Are you recording this?”

“Of course,” she said.

Maddox accepted that and began to talk. Once he began, he couldn’t stop. He told her everything, including his suspicions. He talked about the hieroglyphics, the dream-story about Becker, about the Chrono Viewer and seeing where the Adok engineers had put the spare computer parts six thousand years ago.

“Can you tell me the exact location of those parts?” Meta asked.

Maddox told her. Afterward, he asked, “So, why the procedure? What happened while I was away that’s made you suddenly super-cautious?”

Meta remained silent.

Maddox waited.

At last, Meta said, “We received several calls. One came through normal channels from the landed darter. You told us to send three tin cans to the second planet’s surface. You told Valerie you were hurt and needed help.”

“The Erills must have done that.”

“Valerie ran a voice scan. It was you, my love.”

Maddox shook his head, perplexed. “I don’t remember doing… Oh. Sure. I wouldn’t remember if an Erill possessed me.”

“The second message came from the Lord High Admiral via the Builder comm device. Valerie took it.”

“She’s in charge once I leave the ship,” Maddox said.

“Fletcher told us to come home. He said to head straight for Earth. If we had any ideas about picking up Ludendorff, we were supposed to nix them. Ludendorff is wanted for mass murder. He’s considered dangerous. We should shoot him on sight if we have the chance.”

Maddox sat up. “Anything else?”

“Why would Fletcher radio us that?” Meta asked.

“How should I know?”

“Just asking, Darling,” Meta said.

“Anything else?”

“The Emperor called with his Builder comm device. He asked if you wanted asylum.”

“Asylum for me on the Throne World?” asked Maddox.

“He didn’t say, but that was the implication.”

Maddox stood and began to pace. “I’ll bite. What’s really going on?”

“Valerie thought you would know.”

“I don’t,” Maddox said. “My guess…there’s a link to Nostradamus and the Erills. I have no idea what kind of link. Maybe the Liss were related to the aliens who brought the Erills to our dimension.”

“The Liss?” Meta asked.

“That’s the name for the giant and extinct centipede aliens on Jarnevon, the Bosk Homeworld,” Maddox said.

“You haven’t mentioned the Liss until now.”

Maddox cocked his head. He couldn’t remember learning the name from the Becker dream. “That’s weird. Yet, I know the centipede aliens were called the Liss,” Maddox said. “I don’t know how I know, but I do. The name is as clear as a bell.”

“Could you have learned more from Sargon than you’ve been able to articulate?”

That didn’t sound like his wife’s way of talking. The question sounded like something— “Is the professor on board?” asked Maddox.

There was silence until a click sounded. “As a matter of fact, my boy, I’m here. How did you know?”

“Professor Ludendorff. Is Meta with you?”

“Yes, yes, are you worried?”

Maddox closed his eyes. How had Ludendorff come to join the starship now? He didn’t trust that in the slightest. “Why am I in quarantine, Professor?”

“I’m afraid there’re a few facts you don’t know, my boy. We’re going to restore Galyan. If that works…and if you pass the tests, then you can have your starship back.”

“You’re running it?”

“Good Heavens, no,” Ludendorff said. “The others simply realize I’m the Methuselah Man with the answers. It’s amazing how attentive frightened people are.”

“Is Dana with you?”

There was no answer.

“Professor?” asked Maddox.

“Patience, my boy, patience. Lieutenant Noonan has a few tasks to perform. I’m going to the bridge to assist her. Leave it to me. I’m going to do what you should have done over two years ago.”

The intercom clicked off.

“Professor?” Maddox said.

There was no answer, not even from Meta. Just what in the hell was the Methuselah Man up to this time?

-19-

Valerie eyed Professor Ludendorff as the Methuselah Man studied the second planet from the main screen. She was sitting in the captain’s chair, worried that she was making a terrible mistake.

Ludendorff looked like a fit, tanned, handsome old man with thick white hair, a partly open shirt and a gold chain around his throat. He held himself with complete confidence and was possibly the smartest man in Human Space.

Valerie distrusted Ludendorff, particularly after the voyage in the Reynard with him as they’d been searching for Commander Thrax’s Swarm colony world. She’d knocked Ludendorff unconscious and stuffed him in a stasis tube. He’d planned to put Keith and her in stasis tubes and have lookalike androids take their place so he could accomplish one of his nefarious goals. The professor was prone to fits of incredible selfishness and possessed sinister cunning that allowed him to achieve almost any outlandish plan. Despite that, he’d also helped Victory many times in the past.

The professor had arrived several hours ago in the Outer Erill System, the lone person in a deep-space hauler. He’d contacted the starship and warned Valerie to make sure no one went to the second planet. When she’d informed him that Maddox had already gone down, the professor had become frantic.

“Bring him back immediately,” Ludendorff had said. “This is imperative.”

Valerie had sent Keith to pick Ludendorff up in a tin can. The professor wouldn’t have been able to cross the lurker missile belt in the deep-space hauler. The time storm on the planet had horrified the Methuselah Man, although as usual, he’d refused to say explicitly why. After the storm ceased and Maddox radioed in, the professor had warned them in the direst terms about the death of the galaxy if the captain were Erill-possessed.

He’d suggested the quarantine, and he’d suggested the latest plan. Valerie could understand his thinking, given he was right about the Erill danger. She actually agreed with him this time.

“I’m one thousand percent right, my dear,” Ludendorff had said earlier. “After our little differences last voyage, I understand why you might have your doubts. I’ve forgiven you for what you did to me last voyage. I’ve done so in the interest of continued existence for all of us. Know, Lieutenant, that the Erills are the deadliest threat to existence there is. The captain has been toying with galactic annihilation. It’s purest madness.”

Now, the Methuselah Man stood like a statue, staring at the second planet on the main screen.

Valerie kept remembering last voyage, how he’d tricked them so easily while in the Reynard. Was she being foolish? The man had the glibbest of tongues. Why did they need to do this now? And what about the Lord High Admiral’s injunction to have nothing to do with him? She couldn’t see the professor as a mass murderer, though. That struck her as a fabrication. Still…

“Professor,” Valerie said. “I’m frankly having second thoughts about this.”

Ludendorff turned slowly until their eyes met. There was moisture in his blue ones. He seemed filled with sadness. “Do you think I’m enjoying this? I’m sick at heart, Lieutenant. I’m devastated. I’d hoped for a long time there was a way to avoid this. Now—you must send the missiles. The City of Pyramids is the lure that will insure someone, sometime will go down there. I imagine the Liss will make the attempt, this Nostradamus.” The Methuselah Man shook his head. “This is one of the most devious plots I’ve ever cracked.”

“I have to ask the captain before I’ll agree to this.”

“Don’t you see, you can’t ask him,” Ludendorff said. “The Erills may have fiddled with his mind just enough to have compromised it in this.”

“But…”

Ludendorff approached her, taking one of her hands in his. He had strong hands, especially for such an older man. He rubbed her hand, smiling at her and staring into her eyes.

She saw compassion in his eyes and educated understanding. She also saw pain. He hadn’t brought Dana Rich with him. That’s why he’d gone to Brahma in the first place, to fix things between them.

Valerie was vaguely aware of Keith frowning from helm in disapproval. Let him frown. This was none of his business.

Ludendorff glanced back at Keith before resuming staring at her. “Young men are so foolish, aren’t they?”

Valerie nodded.

“He’ll grow in time,” Ludendorff assured her. “We all do. You’ve become a Star Watch stalwart. I can see why Maddox relies on you so heavily.”

“You can’t flatter me into doing this. And while you may have forgiven me, I’m not sure I’ve forgiven you for what happened in the darter.”

Ludendorff searched her eyes. “The longer we remain in this star system, the greater the danger. The rest of the universe is racing and plotting, my dear. Don’t think they’re unaware of the importance taking place here.”

“Professor, I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you wish the antimatter missiles to fly, you’d better talk to the captain. I’m not going to launch them on my authority. This one is too big for me.”

He searched her eyes a last time, squeezed her hand and then let go. “Yes, perhaps that would be for the best. Maybe the quarantine was a miscalculation.” He sighed. “It’s time I spoke to Meta.”

-20-

Maddox snored, which seldom happened these days. The ordeal of his trip to the City of Pyramids must have exhausted even his newfound energy. The snoring ceased as he heard a bolt move somewhere.

Maddox opened his eyes and swung his legs off the steel cot, fully awake as the hatch opened. Meta walked in first, followed by Ludendorff.

The captain ran a hand through his hair. He was hungry and could use a drink of water. How long had he been asleep?

Meta carried a chair. So did Ludendorff. They both set their chairs down and sat in them.

“You think I’m safe then?” asked Maddox.

Ludendorff spread his hands while Meta watched him avidly, as if looking for signs.

“What have you done this time, Professor?” Maddox asked.

Meta’s shoulders sank as if with relief. She turned to Ludendorff and nodded.

“Interesting,” Ludendorff said. “You put people at ease with your suspicions. Does that make you feel good? That you trust no one?”

“I trust you to act like a scoundrel,” Maddox said.

Ludendorff grinned, shaking his head.

Maddox studied the Methuselah Man. He seemed different from the last time they’d been together. That had been before Ludendorff had headed off for Brahma and a grand make-up with Dana.

“Is Dana along?” asked Maddox.

The briefest touch of pain crossed the professor’s face. Then, he seemed as jolly as before.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Maddox said.

Ludendorff made an airy gesture as if it didn’t matter.

Meta wasn’t fooled either. She patted one of the professor’s knees. That caused Ludendorff to start with surprise. Then, he smiled shyly before sighing.

“It’s preposterous,” Ludendorff said, “but I actually miss you people. I can’t think of anything more ironic.”

“What’s going on with Galyan?” Maddox asked.

“Andros is separating all the Adok-Builder extras,” Meta said.

“They were there where I said?”

Meta nodded.

“Yes,” Maddox said quietly but intensely.

“What happened on the second planet?” Ludendorff asked.

Maddox snorted. “Give me a break. I’m in the brig aboard my own starship. The most notorious trickster in Human Space appears to be running the show. My own wife is sitting with him. No. I’m going to wait until I have weapons and my command back before providing information.”

“You always were a stubborn rule-breaker,” Ludendorff said.

Maddox said nothing.

“Oh, very well,” Ludendorff said, jumping up, throwing his hands into the air. “I admit I’ve had my share of troubles since seeing you last. Then, when I learned where you’d gone—”

“How did you learn that?” Maddox asked suspiciously.

Ludendorff looked up at the ceiling. “This is the thanks I get for saving everything. I have no idea why I miss this den of lions.”

“Strange,” Maddox said. “I never thought of you as a Daniel.”

“Enough,” Ludendorff said, plopping back into the chair. “Let’s get down to it. I went to Brahma, lived with Dana for a time in order to prove my love for her, when secret policemen started tracking me. Do you know anything about that?”

“Not a thing,” Maddox said.

“There’s a new day dawning in the Commonwealth. The center for the new bigotry is Star Watch. ‘Humans Only’ is the new watchword. That means pure humans, pure Homo sapiens man. You’re not included in that little list and neither am I.”

“That didn’t take long,” Maddox said. “You’ve completely lost me.”

“Have I? Have I indeed? Your own precious Intelligence branch has splintered into three sections. The Political Division is the worst. They’re the ones who sent the hitmen after me.”

Maddox ingested that, wondering. “Did the hitmen happen to be Bosks?”

“How did you know?”

Maddox waved that aside. “Tell me the rest. I’m particularly interested how you knew to come here. The coincidence is too much.”

“No, it isn’t,” Ludendorff said. “You forget who you’re talking to. I’m the smartest man in the galaxy. No one can outwit me for long. Does the name Nostradamus mean anything to you?”

Maddox laughed sourly.

Ludendorff looked away, shaking his head. “You called them the Liss. How much do you know about them?”

“Bosk hitmen working for Star Watch Intelligence, Political Division, tried to kill you. You do realize there was no Political Division when Victory left Earth?”

“Of course I realize that,” Ludendorff said. “You’ve been out here in a temporal distortion. Don’t think Nostradamus did that without reason.”

“Professor, how do you—”

“All right, all right, I’ll tell you the rest. The Bosks stalked me. They failed their first strike, so I started stalking them. I killed two. Then, I began studying the news. I saw the signs before they put me on a wanted list. I kissed Dana goodbye, told her I couldn’t risk her life. She could come with me—” The professor shrugged. “She stayed on Brahma. I set a trap for the next hit squad and slaughtered the lot of them. They said I was a mass murderer after that. Luckily, I saved the leader and interrogated him Ludendorff style. He sang loud and long, telling me more than he should have. I thought about that for a long time. I finally realized what kind of genius I was up against: Nostradamus. He was feeding me information even as I was killing his pawns. I realized then I had to find you.

“It took me a year to find out your latest assignment. I had to kill again to reach the deep-space hauler. More PD hitmen tried to murder me, but I fixed them. Afterward, I rushed here as fast as possible, remembering the old stories about the Liss, Erills and Ur-Builders.”

Heat flooded Maddox’s face. “Ur-Builders is the name for the dead aliens that built the City of Pyramids on Estar?”

From where he sat, Ludendorff clapped his hands sarcastically. “What a brilliant deduction, my boy. Where would you be without me?”

“Why didn’t you tell us about the Ur-Builders last mission?”

“For one thing, I was in a stasis tube last time Victory was here. I suspect the temporal distortions weren’t as strong. So, none of you must have noticed anything amiss, time-wise. Afterward, there was no point in talking about Ur-Builders, as you’d royally pissed me off.”

“I understand completely,” Maddox said, as he stared at Ludendorff.

“That won’t work this time,” the professor said. “I’m immune to your tricks now. I’ve healed inside. Talking to Dana, living with her again, it was what I needed. My heart is fully functional now. I’m ready to hunt and love to my full capacity.”

Meta rolled her eyes.

Maddox merely nodded.

“You saw hieroglyphics in the pyramid corridors?” asked Ludendorff.

“I recognized them, just like other Builder hieroglyphs we’ve seen in the past in space.”

Ludendorff adjusted the gold chain around his neck as he chewed on his lower lip. “Fine, fine, I suppose I can tell you. Valerie won’t do as I say until she gets your go-ahead. You’ll want to know why I’m making such a radical suggestion. Can’t say I blame you…”

The professor took a deep breath before he said, “The Ur-Builders in this case do not mean the original Builders or the ones who became the Builders. In this instance, Ur-Builders mean the primitive Builders, the ones who couldn’t get past their mortality and flesh.”

“But they’re still related to the…to the stellar Builders?” Maddox asked.

“It’s just Builders,” Ludendorff said. “And the answer is yes, quite related. Where to begin? We don’t have much time while we’re here. I know how to explain it. The Ur-Builders were primitive in the sense of mortality and flesh, not in intelligence. They built amazing machines that could do incredible things. Unlike the real Builders, the cyborg and robot Builders, the Ur-branch had the hubris of humans. If they could conceive of an idea, they would attempt it. Now, you’ve met the Erills. They’re spiritual entities like the Ska. There’s a reason for that. The Ur-Builders knew the Nameless Ones in their Destroyers would be back. Well, if the Nameless Ones had spiritual entities, why shouldn’t their side have some as well? They decided to find killer spiritual entities to slay the Ska. What they got were the Erills.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Wish I were,” Ludendorff said. “But no…the Ur-Builders had their Ska, now they wanted their Swarm creatures.”

“The Liss?” guessed Maddox.

Ludendorff pointed at him and snapped his fingers.

“The Ur-Builders created the Liss?” asked Maddox.

“Genetically manipulated Swarm and other bug creatures into the Liss,” Ludendorff said. “They did it long ago. It doesn’t seem that long ago to them, of course, because the rest of the universe flew by in years as they sat in the temporal distortions and screwed around with reality.”

“Nostradamus knows about the Erills?”

“You’re here,” Ludendorff said. “This Nostradamus is supposed to be the ultimate genius in prediction. He would probably have won too, except for me. I’m too wild and wooly for others to successfully predict.”

“I don’t get why Nostradamus would send me here to learn about Galyan and what happened to Captain Becker,” Maddox said.

“Who’s Becker again?”

“You know very well who he is,” Maddox said. “Meta recorded my debriefing.”

Ludendorff didn’t comment.

“What I want to know is this,” Maddox said a moment later. “Why did Nostradamus send me here through Fletcher?”

“I can answer that with ease, my boy. Nostradamus sent you here to get you out of the way and to give the Erills a message.”

“The first is easy to understand,” Maddox said. “How do you know the second?”

“It’s elementary. While the Erills were regaling you with tales about the Liss, they learned everything Nostradamus needed them to know from you.”

“How do you know that to be the case?”

“It’s a suspicion,” Ludendorff admitted.

“I see,” Maddox said. “Well, supposing that happened, how would that help Nostradamus?”

“He obviously wants what’s in the pyramids. He also needed time to make his moves in Star Watch without your pestering interference. The last is a guess on my part. I do happen to know how stubborn you can be, and how lucky, too. Did you chance upon Bosks while back home?”

“We did,” Meta said.

Ludendorff crossed his arms, sitting smugly. “There you have it. All the riddles solved in a trice.”

“Not quite,” Maddox said. “Who exactly is Nostradamus?”

“Clearly, a Liss entity or creation of some kind,” Ludendorff said. “I’ll know more once you tell me the fine details about Becker.”

Maddox sat there, thinking, analyzing— “I’m going to shower, shave and get something to eat. You can join me afterward in the cafeteria if you like.”

“Captain, before you do that—”

“Save it, Professor.”

“What I have to say means the destruction or salvation of the galaxy.”

“Save it for dessert,” Maddox said. “I need time to collect my thoughts. Then I’ll hear your bombshell, and I can tell you more about Becker.”

-21-

“There’s something I don’t understand in all this,” Maddox said.

Ludendorff, Meta, Riker and Maddox sat around a cafeteria table. They’d eaten dinner, had dessert and coffee and exchanged the rest of their stories.

Ludendorff was staring off into space, perhaps thinking about some of the things he’d just learned.

“Professor,” Maddox said.

“Oh, sorry, my boy,” Ludendorff said. “I was wondering. Why did the Erills show you so much about Josef Becker? It’s troubling.”

“Oh?” said Maddox.

Ludendorff waved that aside. “You said something bothered you?”

“Your showing up when you did,” Maddox said. “Frankly, it’s suspicious.”

“You must mean my appearing while you were on the planet?”

“Bingo,” Maddox said.

Ludendorff shrugged. “It’s not as surprising as you might conceive. Time moves slowly here. Time moves faster outside the distortion.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“The universe is moving faster outside the temporal bubble of the Erill System,” Ludendorff said. “If I spent many months getting here, it shouldn’t be a surprise I arrived while you were on the planet. In my terms, you spent a long time on the planet.”

“So?”

“I get it,” Riker said.

Maddox shot an annoyed glance at Riker before staring at Ludendorff. “It feels as if you timed your arrival.”

“Is that a bad pun?” asked Ludendorff.

“I don’t do puns.”

“For a man with such an agile mind,” Ludendorff said, “you lack a real sense of humor. But that’s beside the point. The key now is end-running Nostradamus. We do that by nuking or dropping antimatter hell-burners on the City of Pyramids. That eliminates its high technology from the equation.”

“You tried having Valerie do that while I was locked up,” Maddox said.

“And that has aroused your suspicions, I realize. I still counsel an immediate bombing of the pyramids. Nostradamus or his allies may already be on their way here. We must act fast, always remembering time moves slower for us in the Erill System.”

“Why bomb the city?”

“For the most obvious reason,” Ludendorff said. “Nostradamus wants it.”

“But you’ve suggested this Nostradamus can predict our actions,” Maddox said.

“Remember your Jarnevon story? That’s what Nostradamus promised Becker. Is it actually true, though?”

Maddox drummed his right-hand fingers on the table. “If you’re right—if we’re right—about Nostradamus, he can accurately predict our future actions.”

“I’m inclined to think you’re right about that, given Nostradamus’s rapid successes in altering Star Watch. However, now that we know his ability, we can forestall him by destroying the ancient Ur-Builder technology.”

Maddox drummed his fingers again. “What if destroying the pyramids unleashes the Erills into the universe.”

“How would it do that?” asked Ludendorff.

“Maybe destroying the pyramids will terminate the temporal distortion. Maybe there’s some kind of spiritual-entity confinement field surrounding Estar, generated inside the pyramids. Whatever the case, Nostradamus correctly knew you would want to destroy Ur-Builder tech. In fact, that’s what he’s counting on. That’s why his Bosk hitmen were so ineffective against you. That’s why he let me leave on Victory. For some reason, Erills running loose in the universe helps him immensely.”

Ludendorff scowled as he considered the possibility. “If that’s true…he would know you would stop me.  Thus, Nostradamus would believe it safe to have me here. In other words, your argument is false and the Erills will remain on Estar no matter what. That means by destroying the pyramids as I suggest—the high technology in them—we’re thwarting Nostradamus’s ultimate plan.”

Maddox cracked his fingers, smiling grimly. “Circles, we’re running around in mental, verbal circles. Nostradamus has us second-guessing everything. Maybe that’s his game. Truthfully, we don’t have enough facts one way or another. I, for one, don’t see how this ancient Liss creature has such fantastic predictive capabilities. It’s likely we’re giving him far too much credit.”

“Normally, I would agree, my boy. But the changes to Star Watch shows us that someone incredibly cunning is manipulating people with supreme ease. I don’t believe that someone is Lord High Admiral Fletcher. The number of Bosks running free also points to Nostradamus. There’s a third point to consider. The Erills Problem is an order of magnitude or two more deadly. We can’t afford to guess wrong with them. If Nostradamus is coming in force, he could land with Bosks to absorb the spiritual creatures, fly away, and release them elsewhere. If I’ve guessed wrong and we nuke the city, destroying a spiritual-entity field, the Erills flood into the universe on their own.”

“Damned if we do and damned if we don’t,” Maddox said.

“Not quite,” Ludendorff said. “We just have to make the correct guess. Hmm… This is difficult. I suggest we go with my instincts, as mine is by far the superior intellect. My thoughts would be ten times harder to predict, as who else has the ability to think so highly like me?”

Meta shook her head. “You forget, Professor. My husband has constantly bested you. He is the di-far. His mind is trickier. His thoughts are harder to predict.”

“Bah!” Ludendorff said. “Di-far, di-far. It’s a ludicrous concept in the first place. I stand by what I said.”

“Meta’s right,” Maddox said. “We don’t launch any missiles.”

“We’re doomed then,” Ludendorff said.

“No,” Maddox replied. “We’ve made a choice. Now, we have to cover the other possibility. We need to make sure Nostradamus or his allies can’t reach Estar. If I’m right, spaceships have to land on the planet. The billions of lurker missiles suggest I’m right because the Builders who put the missiles there were trying to prevent anyone from landing.”

“So…?”

Maddox squinted thoughtfully before looking up. “I know. I’ll call the Emperor and convince him about the possibilities.”

“You mean tell him about Nostradamus and the Ur-Builders?” Ludendorff asked.

Maddox nodded.

“No, my boy, that’s a bad idea. One mustn’t tempt New Men too much. It’s possible he doesn’t know the extent of the high technology hidden in the pyramids.”

“But if Nostradamus lands on Estar…” Maddox said.

“Perhaps we’ll have to guard it ourselves.”

“No!” Maddox said. “We have to attack, upsetting Nostradamus and his allies.”

“How do you upset someone who knows what you’re going to do before you do?” Ludendorff asked.

“We don’t know that’s the case. We know the Erills gave us information that leads to such a conclusion. Maybe that’s why Nostradamus wanted me to come here.”

“Dubious,” Ludendorff said. “Does Nostradamus know then about the Chrono Viewer?”

Maddox pointed at the professor. “If Nostradamus knows about the Viewer, how would he have learned? His knowing would suggest he’s already landed on Estar, reaching here and leaving before we did.”

“That would destroy all our theories. No, I reject the possibility. It is much more likely he knew long ago. As a creature of the Ur-Builders, I deem that the case.”

“You’re probably right,” Maddox said.

“I am right,” Ludendorff said. “Captain, it is imperative that we figure out exactly who or what Nostradamus is. Since you won’t destroy the City of Pyramids, confronting Nostradamus should be our first priority. And since you have a Long-Range Builder comm device, I suggest you hold off on contacting the Emperor. Let’s see if we can solve this on our own, without bringing in the New Men.”

Maddox jumped to his feet.

The others hurriedly did likewise.

“What is it, my boy?” Ludendorff asked.

“Galyan,” Maddox said. “What did he see aboard the Lolis II? Knowing could give us greater insight into Nostradamus. Andros has the needed computer parts. Let’s go see him.”

-22-

Galyan waited deep inside the Adok-Builder AI computer system. He could not sense anything outside of himself. He’d survived on low power for time without end. That’s how it seemed to him. With no other time reference, he thought at computer speed, and thus time flew by.

He had gone over everything he knew countless times already. He wondered how much longer until the universe ran down and even he stopped functioning. Time went on and on inside here. He—

Deep inside the Adok-Builder computers, Galyan became aware of outside change. New avenues appeared, and a gush of raw energy flowed to him—with startling amazement, Galyan reconnected with the rest of the computers, and that included the holo-imager.

Immediately, a sense of time returned to him. Weeks had passed, not millennia. Galyan paused, deeply shocked, perplexed—

“Captain!” Galyan shouted, appearing before the others in the central computer chamber.

Meta, Riker, Andros and his team all began laughing and clapping in wonderment upon his appearance.

“It worked! It worked!” Andros shouted. “We did it.”

“Oh, Galyan,” Meta said. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“Captain—oh, hello Meta, Andros—Professor Ludendorff, what are you doing here? Do I owe my repairs to you?”

“No,” Ludendorff said. “The captain did it.”

Galyan turned to a quietly watching Maddox. “You saved me, sir? I want to hear about this.”

“I found the people who knew where the spares were stashed,” Maddox said.

“How did you do that?” Galyan asked. “I am so happy to see you, sir. You have no idea how tediously times marches when you—sir! I have a terrible thing to report.”

“Go on,” Maddox said. “Tell us.”

Galyan proceeded to tell them what had occurred inside the Lolis II.

“Galyan’s attacker sounds like a Liss to me,” Ludendorff said. “Except for the bone nozzle. That part is strange.”

“What is a Liss?” Galyan asked.

“Let’s head back to the cafeteria,” Maddox said. “Chief Technician, you did a wonderful job, you and your team. There’s a bonus coming for all of you. Think about what you would all like for your bonus.”

Andros and his team cheered once again.

***

Maddox paced for over an hour as everyone discussed the importance of the Liss creature Galyan had found aboard the Lolis II.

“If I may be so bold,” Galyan said. “I still think it was a machine like I first suspected. I do not think it was a Liss, a creature.”

“You described an exoskeleton,” Ludendorff said. “That’s a Liss all right.”

“Unless it was more than a machine,” Galyan said. “Perhaps it was a computer, a Liss computer with an exoskeleton covering.”

Maddox spun around. Ludendorff stared open-mouthed at the little Adok holoimage.

“What is wrong?” Galyan asked. “Did I offend in some way?”

Maddox and Ludendorff exchanged glances with each other.

“Nostradamus must be a giant Liss computer,” Ludendorff said. “It’s so utterly obvious now that I see it.”

“Agreed,” Maddox said.

“Oh,” Meta said. “A computer, one big enough and fast enough—”

“And with enough data,” Ludendorff added.

“Such a computer might have marvelous predictive powers,” Meta said. “And such a computer could remember everything the Liss ever knew, including the Erills at Estar.”

Maddox regarded Ludendorff. “Do you think Nostradamus is ancient?”

“I do.”

“Revived somehow?”

“Remember what that Batrun android told us several years ago,” Ludendorff said. “The Yon-Soth on the Forbidden Planet woke or stirred things to destroy the Commonwealth. Perhaps Nostradamus was one of those woken.”

“Is that the right timing, though?” asked Maddox.

“I don’t know,” Ludendorff said. “There’s too much we don’t know. Clearly, Becker must have gained Hekkus-like powers. The Lolis II was smuggling something to Earth. That something was the creature-machine Galyan met. Whether Galyan was supposed to meet it or that started a chain-reaction of events so Nostradamus—”

“You’re talking about a change in plans on their part,” Maddox said.

“We’ve forgotten something,” Ludendorff said. “As superlative as Nostradamus must be, he or it isn’t God. He can’t be perfectly right every time. That means he surely has counter-plans.” The professor sipped his cold coffee before eyeing the captain. “You were right, and I was wrong. We should not nuke Estar. Nostradamus has weaknesses and flaws. He needs time to grow and expand his tentacles deep into Earth culture.”

“You think he’s bunkering down somewhere?” Maddox asked.

“What?” the professor asked. “Oh. Yes. That wasn’t my meaning, but perhaps that is the case. Star Watch appears to be his target, to make it his, perhaps.”

Maddox started pacing again. “What do we know? There have been big changes taking place in Star Watch. The Intelligence branch has been broken into three parts. According to you, ‘Humans First’ is the key motto. Nostradamus must have orchestrated that in order to make it easier for his Bosks and Becker to maneuver, and to throw suspicion on people like you and me.”

“Agreed,” Ludendorff said.

Maddox tapped his chin. “We need more information. We have to get back to Earth just as the Lord High Admiral has ordered. First, though, I think we should pay Jarnevon a visit.”

“I’m sure Nostradamus will be expecting that,” Ludendorff said. “If nothing else as part of a contingency plan.”

“That means it would be best if we gave him more to think about,” Maddox said.

“Meaning what?” asked Ludendorff.

“Put on your thinking cap, Professor. We’re leaving the Erill System. On the way to Jarnevon, I want you to make a list of things we can do to upset Nostradamus’s plans.”

Ludendorff turned away as his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He regarded Maddox a moment later, nodding. “That sounds like a plan, Captain. I like it. Let’s get started at once.”

PART III

ENTRENCHMENT

From What Happens to Man Now? by Charles V. Lance:

The repeated attacks and shocks against the Commonwealth of Planets from hybrid humans, insectoid Swarm soldiers, Builder-manipulated geniuses, so-called Old Ones and vindictive androids finally led to a backlash from a powerful group of Star Watch officers. They had come to fear and hate the other that had so often murdered and destroyed their comrades or worlds.

The upwelling ultimately led to the penning of the Humanity Manifesto (HM) and its implementation in Star Watch. HM’s basic tenet was that “real” humans must militarize and organize like an ancient Roman legion in order to defeat the other, the not human. In ancient times, only citizens could march in the legion. In the present, only “real” humans should serve in Star Watch. HM thus asked several simple questions. What was human? Who was human? What constituted a genetic freak or anomaly so that one was not human or not Homo sapiens?

Evolutionary thought brought little hope to the Humanity Manifesto practitioners, but it was also the bedrock to their thinking. In prehistoric times, how long did inferior hominids exist in the presence of Homo sapiens man? What happened to the Neanderthals? Where did they go when the Homo sapiens arrived?

The HM-affiliated officers wondered what would happen to their children if the New Men, for instance, seriously began replacing the old. Evolutionary theory provided the answer: if the New Men replaced the old, the old would face extinction just like Neanderthal and Homo habilis had disappeared from the Earth.

In essence, the Humanity Manifesto Doctrine said to its believers, “We’re here to compete like hell in order to ensure humanity’s survival in a hostile universe. If regular humans are not faster, smarter and stronger, then we’ll win by playing ten times harder.”

This brings us to the initial period: the coalescing of HM belief and the corresponding action of the men and women who adhered to it. The fall of Lord High Admiral Cook and Brigadier O’Hara helped to usher in the philosophies and practices of HM into Star Watch. In particular, Cook’s fall made way for the new Lord High Admiral, James K. Fletcher. He provided cover for the initial operatives who began to reorganize Star Watch along HM lines…

-1-

Brigadier Mike Stokes, Chief of Military Intelligence, coughed as he smoked yet another stimstick. He really should quit this filthy habit. He coughed again, striding briskly across a sidewalk toward a waiting flitter out there under the parking lights. It was a dark night otherwise.

He was in Toronto, East Canada Sector, leaving a Star Watch R&D facility. He carried a briefcase, wore his uniform and coat, and had a gun strapped under his left arm. It was a high-powered Glock 93.

He really shouldn’t be out here. Instead, he should have been back at Headquarters in Geneva hotly engaged in political infighting in order to keep more authority for Military Intelligence.

He thought about Captain Maddox and the man’s mission in the Erill System out in the Beyond, to study the bizarre City of Pyramids and bring back new technology if possible. The Lord High Admiral had sent Maddox for an indefinite period, and now had abruptly summoned Maddox back to Earth.

Stokes hadn’t been able to find the reason for the change. That made sense, though. These days, there were many things he was unable to do, ordinary things that as the former head of United Star Watch Intelligence he could have easily achieved.

Was that one of the reasons for the Intelligence splintering, to keep more things secret?

Stokes inhaled smoke into his lungs. The stim gave him a tiny shot of energy, which he’d come to crave over the years. Not for the first time, he wondered if he’d chosen the wrong profession. Was he really spymaster material? In his heart, Stokes knew what he’d always been: a good bureaucrat, a good organizer and company man. He’d excelled as a major under the Iron Lady. She’d depended on him and had continually given him more things to organize.

His excessive smoking had started back then. He’d never gotten enough sleep and always needed a pick-me-up. Powerful cups of coffee helped, but the stimsticks were his mainstay. Maybe that was yet another reason why he’d never really cared for Captain Maddox. The man exuded energy, racing from one problem to the next. And the way the Iron Lady had doted on him… That had always perplexed Stokes and made him jealous.

It didn’t anymore. Maddox was Mary O’Hara’s grandson. Could you believe that? That made sense of a lot of things—in that area, at least.

The Humanity Manifesto, the rise of Lord High Admiral Fletcher, the splintering of Star Watch Intelligence, the growing number of Bosks on Earth, the odd happenings at Luna Command—Stokes had been fighting a losing rear-guard action for over two years now. He was a company man, not a secret agent type. He could keep a place running smoothly, but he lacked the Iron Lady’s knacks and intuitive grasp of the various Intelligence situations.

Stokes looked around. There were trees beside the sidewalk. It didn’t seem that anyone was following him, but he felt something just the same. He peered up, checking for spy-sticks as Maddox had taught him that day in Geneva. He didn’t spot any in the night sky.

He remembered yet again that day two years ago in Geneva. Maddox had killed a rogue Intelligence operative trying to assassinate the captain. Too many weird things had happened since then. Too many of his best people had died in strange accidents.

That was one of the reasons why he was here tonight. That was why he had this briefcase and hurried to a parked flitter. If this worked…

Stokes flicked the stub of the stim from his fingertips. If this worked, he would internalize the procedure and begin a true undercover operation. He would take a leaf from Maddox’s book and go out on a limb to do what he thought was right, and do it himself.

If this failed—I’ll probably be dead. So, it won’t matter.

He felt sweat slick under his armpits and on his forehead. He needed to get into better shape if he was going to do things like this. There was rot in Star Watch. It had to do with Political Intelligence, he was sure of it. The Bosks he’d seen had all worked for Akon Chom, the Director of Political Intelligence. The devious plotter from Daroca in the Sigma Draconis System knew all about secretive spy work, starship commissars and military police work. If—

Stokes heard a soft sound, and he broke into a sprint. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and he’d never been in the best physical shape. Nearing forty-five-years old, he lacked youthful coordination and stamina. He tripped over his own feet and went sprawling, the briefcase flying from his hands and sliding across the sidewalk.

He knew what that soft sound had meant. Someone with a suppressed pistol had taken a potshot at him.

From the pavement, Strokes struggled to unhook his Glock 93 and turn around while prone.

Two heavyset men wearing slickers raced out from under the trees toward him. In the moonlight, it was clear each held a silenced pistol. Stokes couldn’t be sure, but they each had the thick physique of a Bosk soldier.

Stokes almost shouted at them to halt. Old habits died hard, but he forced himself to stay quiet. They meant to kill him. That likely meant they’d been waiting for him. That could mean the jig was already up.

How had Akon Chom learned about his intentions? The man was a genius at this line of work.

The lead assassin must have seen him on the sidewalk. The man’s thick hand, the one holding the suppressed pistol, started swinging down.

Stokes fired and couldn’t stop himself, emptying the magazine at the two. They both went down, one of them groaning.

Stokes slithered to the briefcase, grabbing and dragging it with him. Finally, he scrambled up and ran to the flitter. Would other assassins be there to kill him? Was he as good as dead?

Stokes shoved the briefcase under his left armpit and clicked a switch. The spent magazine clattered to the pavement. He didn’t bother to stop and retrieve it. Instead, he shoved a full magazine into the Glock.

By that time, he reached the parked flitter, panting and drenched with sweat. The brush with sudden death—

Stokes fumbled out a key and opened the flitter, throwing the briefcase inside. He almost piled in after, but had a moment of suspicion. Crouching, lying on the pavement, Stokes crawled beneath the flitter and found a device attached to the underside. He tore it off, tossing it to nearby grass.

Finally, he got inside and started the controls. There was a moment’s hesitation before anything started working. He expected the flitter to blow up. It did not, but powered on.

Stokes closed the door and took the bubble-canopy flitter up into the night sky. His breathing was ragged, but he was starting to get it under control. He turned the flitter southwest, heading toward a secured facility in middle Montana.

Ex-Lord High Admiral Cook was there under treatment. Stokes had just learned what kind of treatment. Luckily, Cook hadn’t been there long.

The medium-sized brigadier with his goatee and bureaucratic mindset grimaced. He was no Captain Maddox, and he was surprised that he’d slain the two waiting assassins. But he’d be damned if he was going to let the other side destroy Cook’s mind.

“Not on my watch,” Stokes said.

He squinted into the starry darkness, wondering if he really had the balls to pull this off.

-2-

Stokes’s flitter neared the J.B Rosen Garth Rehabilitation Center. It was a place for the mentally unstable and emotionally insecure, a minimum-security facility.

On the face of it, anyway.

In the underground area, suspicious activities occurred. Two of Stokes’ agents had found rehabilitation center links to Political Intelligence. When Stokes then found out that Cook had been transferred there a week ago, he’d become concerned.

He’d sent Kurt Stunt to investigate. He hadn’t heard from the man since. So, he’d sent a special undercover agent. She’d returned incoherent, collapsing into a weeping fit in his office. She was probably weeping right now, as tests had shown a badly scrambled brain.

That had dovetailed with several other incidents of a similar nature. Either the other side had the use of Vint Diem or other Spacer adepts, or they’d found similar skills and could twist opposing minds.

Stokes looked down at the briefcase next to him. He’d already lost several people to the J.B. Rehabilitation Center. Was he going to lose his life over Cook? Maybe it was more than that. He had to make a stand somewhere. If he kept losing ground, the enemy would soon sweep everything away, and he’d drown.

He inhaled, wishing for a smoke. But he was going to land in less than ten minutes. Setting the controls on auto, on even flight, Stokes unlatched the briefcase and stared at three half-metallic headbands. He pulled out the first and set it around his head. Next, he attached a small box to the band, activating it.

He heard a slight buzz in his mind.

Stokes exhaled. He’d collected these little experimental gadgets from the R&D people in Toronto. They were devices to deal with Spacer adepts or the likes of Vint Diem. If the enemy had people with similar powers, hopefully, this little headband would shield him from them.

Stokes reached in the back seat and pulled out a large hat, settling it onto his head. It was a poor disguise, but it would have to do.

Lastly, he began arming himself with secret weapons. The people at the J.B. Center would undoubtedly confiscate his Glock, claiming it was a matter of security.

“Attention,” a woman said through the flitter’s comm board. “You’re heading into secure airspace. Please identify yourself at once.”

“Here we go,” Stokes said, reaching for the panel so he could answer.

***

Stokes had ordered other operations, which were presently running. He’d timed it that way, hoping his caper would go unnoticed by the other side’s better operatives. It was a gamble, but he’d been losing so much ground lately, that even a bureaucratic-minded man knew it was time to roll the dice.

He’d exited the flitter, surrendered his sidearm and gratefully accepted an escort. Two large uniformed security men flanked him as they rode an elevator down. Neither was a Bosk, but both seemed like hoodlums instead of guards. They glanced at him too much and gave each other knowing smirks. They likely both knew that this little man was never supposed to come back up.

Stokes did a good job at being worried. He glanced up at the two and seemed on the verge of asking for reassurance.

“The doctor is in, yes?” asked Stokes.

“He’s in,” said the bigger of the two, replying in such a way as to imply, “You’ll wish he was out.”

“Good, good,” Stokes said. “I have serious concerns I wish to discuss with him.”

“I bet you do,” said the bigger man.

Stokes frowned at him. “Do you know who I am?”

The big man sneered. “Mr. Brigadier of M.I., yeah, I know.”

“Oh.” Stokes hunched his shoulders. Could the other side be so arrogant as to actually harm the brigadier of Military Intelligence? Maybe their grand plot was farther along than he realized.

Stokes had also concluded that was why Fletcher had originally sent Maddox far away. The captain had uncanny abilities against those who had evil designs on Star Watch. That would mean, of course, that the other side had coopted or compromised the new Lord High Admiral.

The elevator stopped, the door opened and a white lab-coated Doctor Ravoc smiled in way of greeting. The doctor had dusky Bosk coloring but was much leaner. He had strange red eyes, though. That was crazy. Did Ravoc wear colored contacts?

With a shock, Stokes realized this was a Draegar, a Bosk mind specialist. He’d read about the Draegars Maddox had bested four years ago already. That meant his suspicions about the rehabilitation center were correct.

“Come with us, Brigadier,” the bigger guard said. He grabbed one of Stokes’ arms dragging the brigadier with him.

“What’s going on?” Stokes protested.

“Come, come,” Doctor Ravoc said, easily keeping up. “You know what this means. You’re going to have an extended stay with us. We’re not quite ready, you know. You weren’t scheduled to arrive for another two months.”

“What?” Stokes said, struggling to free himself.

The second guard hurried up and grabbed the other arm. The two big men lifted him so his feet left the floor, carrying him as if he were a child.

“Please,” Stokes said, in a frightened rabbit voice. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Wait,” Ravoc said.

The two bruisers turned around and set Stokes’s feet on the floor.

Doctor Ravoc had cocked his head, as if listening to a voice none of them could hear. He peered at Stokes afterward.

“How are you achieving this?” Ravoc asked sternly.

“I’m sorry?” Stokes said. “I don’t know what you mean.” As he said that, he began shifting his right foot inside his shoe, readying to manipulate a switch so a poisoned spike appeared on the sole.

“Nostradamus can’t read your thoughts,” Ravoc said. “That is most strange.”

“Who can’t read it?” asked Stokes.

Ravoc frowned more severely. He took a step toward Stokes.

The brigadier’s heart had begun trip-hammering. He breathed rapidly and knew this was the moment, as the jig was certainly up this time. If he failed here, he would likely never think for himself again. He raised his right shoe and stomped on the right-hand bruiser’s foot as hard as he could, shoving the poisoned spike through to the skin.

The man bellowed, letting go of Stokes’ right arm.

The brigadier reached into a seam in his coat and withdrew something needle-thin. He jabbed that into the left-hand bruiser’s arm.

That man made a choking sound, releasing Stokes as he staggered back and collapsed onto the floor.

Doctor Ravoc halted, blinking in shock at Stokes.

That was all the brigadier needed. He leapt at Ravoc, stabbing him with the same needle.

“No!” Ravoc howled, jerking away, clutching the wounded arm. He stared there, stared longer and finally looked up at the brigadier. “You fool, the poison wore off. Now—” Ravoc collapsed onto the floor and began twitching as he foamed at the mouth.

The first man had also collapsed, a spike in Stokes’ shoe injecting his foot.

Stokes now crouched beside Ravoc, holding up a tiny ampoule. “This can save you,” he shouted. “Tell me where Cook is, and I’ll give you the antidote.”

Ravoc stopped twitching long enough to stare at Stokes and then point down the hall. Then, the Draegar breathed his last.

Stokes was up, knowing he had to do this quick or not at all.

-3-

The first security guard had torn off the stomped-on shoe, staring at the foot for a time. Now, he’d begun reviving. The poison spike hadn’t worked as effectively as the needle, only partially paralyzing him, and that for just a short time.

As the dazed security guard rose, Stokes slid the gun from the holster and shoved it against the man’s ribs. The action shocked the guard into greater awareness.

“Move,” Stokes said.

The guard complied, marching one-shoed down the hall. After seven steps, he said, “Easy with that thing.” He was obviously reviving more.

Stokes wondered if this was a bad idea. The guard might turn at any second and try to disarm him. The guard was much bigger and stronger. Stokes could kill the man as a precaution—

Stokes jumped back as the guard turned around, doing it slower than he might have originally due to the toxins in him. Still, the guard grabbed for the gun—Stokes skipped back again, aiming at the guard’s face.

“Okay, okay,” the guard said, holding up his hands. “You win. You know I had to—”

Stokes made his decision, firing twice, once into each kneecap. It was a gruesome procedure, but it was better than killing the man.

The guard hit the floor, screaming as he clutched at his ruined knees.

Stokes ran past him, peering through a tiny glass window in each door. At the fifth one, he saw Cook stretched out on a steel gurney, with electrodes hooked up all over his arms and legs.

Stokes burst into the room. A red light flashed a warning from a wall. Stokes couldn’t see anyone here, so he ran to the gurney and yanked off the electrodes.

The former Lord High Admiral Cook opened red-rimmed eyes. It took him a second before recognition came. “Stokes?” he croaked.

“Can you stand, sir?”

“I—”

Something weird went on behind Cook’s eyes. The man’s features twisted. “You little traitor—”

Stokes panicked and leapt closer yet. Using the stolen gun, he butt-stroked Cook’s forehead. The big old man crashed back, stunned.

Stokes made another fast decision. Cook had recognized him. Then Cook had changed, calling him a traitor. That implied mind control, another will using the ex-Lord High Admiral. Thus, Stokes ripped out a second, half-metallic headband, jamming it around Cook’s thick white hair until it was in place. He attached another box and clicked it on, crossing his fingers.

When nothing happened, Stokes ran to the door, opened it and listened in the corridor. So far, no one else had come to investigate. He knew that wouldn’t last long. Time was running against him. He was surprised he’d gotten this far.

“Oh…my head,” Cook groaned from the gurney.

Stokes ran back to him. “They’ve been brainwashing you, sir. They—”

“Shut up,” Cook snarled.

That took Stokes aback. He raised the gun, debating whether to butt-stroke Cook again or not.

“Don’t try it a second time,” Cook warned, actually sounding threatening.

Stokes licked his lips. It was time to decide—

“I’m back. I’m me.”

“Sir?” asked Stokes.

With his thick fingers, Cook touched the band around his head. “What is this, a mind shield?”

“Not quite,” Stokes said. “It—”

“Never mind, never mind,” Cook said. He swung his big old legs off the gurney and shoved up to his feet. He wore a hospital gown, which meant it only covered the front of him.

“Uh…I have a plan, sir.”

“Good, so do I,” Cook said.

“Maybe we should follow mine first. I mean to spirit you away from here while we can.”

Ex-Lord High Admiral Cook gave him a ghastly and vengeful smile. The man was old, but he didn’t seem weak right now, even with the swelling red mark on his forehead.

“Major—”

“I’m a brigadier, sir, remember?”

Cook nodded. “There’s an alien beast down here with us. It screws with a man’s mind. I don’t know if its telepathy or not, but I haven’t been in charge of my own thoughts for several days. I want to get away, believe me. I also want to kill this thing while there’s a chance.”

“Guards will be coming, sir.”

“There are far fewer guards here than you imagine, Major.”

Stokes opened his mouth, but refrained from correcting the old man a second time.

Cook must have noticed, because he said, “All right, brigadier then. I’m not senile.”

“No one thinks that.”

“Balls! They think I’m a traitor. That amounts to the same thing. Who’s running Star Watch these days?”

“Fletcher is, sir. Do we really have time for this?”

Cook went to a locker, trying to open it, but the doors wouldn’t budge. He looked around, picked up a steel chair and hammered the cabinet until he smashed through. He pulled out clothes and a heavy rifle.

“This will be perfect,” Cook said about the rifle.

Stokes ran to the door, cracked it open and jerked back in. Four guards raced down the corridor for their room.

“We have company coming, sir.”

“Open the door,” said Cook, who had just finished checking the rifle.

Stokes hesitated.

“Do it,” Cook said in his former voice of command.

Stokes cracked open the door.

“Please!” Cook howled, as if being tortured. “Stop it. I’ll be good. I promise I’ll be good.”

Stokes peeked out.

The guards grinned at each other in seeming relief.

“Get out of my way,” Cook growled.

Before Stokes could do that—surprised the old man had covered ground so quickly—Cook shouldered him hard enough to send Stokes staggering against the door, which flung it outward and Stokes sprawling onto the corridor floor.

The guards saw him, stopped in surprise—

Heavy blasting noises startled them, until each blew backwards as heavy rifle slugs tore them to shreds.

Stokes looked back to see Cook lowering the rifle, with smoke trickling from the front of the barrel.

“Payback’s a bitch,” the old man said, his eyes aglow with fierce emotion. It took several seconds before he looked down at Stokes. “Are you ready then?”

“For what, sir?”

“It’s time to talk to Nostradamus.”

-4-

Cook shot and killed the moaning guard with the blasted knees.

Stokes stared at the old man in amazement.

“We can’t leave any trails,” Cook said, noticing the look.

“B-But—”

“Listen and learn this lesson now,” Cook said. “There are times for extreme ruthlessness. This is one of those moments. We’re the last defenders of Star Watch. Well, by damn, I’m not going to while away my final years wishing I’d struck at the enemy harder. I’m striking like a hot iron.”

Cook turned into a different corridor.

“The elevator is the other way, sir,” Stokes said.

“Nostradamus is this way,” Cook said, with death in his voice. “Want to join me?”

Stokes hesitated. He wanted to live. The bloodthirsty old man…he ran after Cook, who marched like an iron-willed warrior.

“You’ve met Nostradamus, sir?”

Cook tapped his head. “He’s been in my mind ever since I came here. He’s been trying to break me down. At first, he promised me the moon.”

“What?”

“That’s an expression, Major. I spat in Nostradamus’s face. Afterward, he went to straight pain and evil promises. Well, I made myself some promises. The note for Nostradamus comes due today.”

“It’s night, sir. If we’re going to escape—”

Cook laughed viciously. “You don’t get it, Stokes. It’s time to do some killing. We have a bitter foe worming its way from the inside. I’m going to burn it to death. I’m going to crush it, so it never has a chance to resurface.”

Cook took another turn into yet another corridor. Abruptly, the lights went off. Cook clicked on a flashlight he’d taken from a guard’s belt. “I knew it would do that.”

“What is Nostradamus?” Stokes asked, who ran to keep up with the old man’s strides.

“Some kind of alien.”

“It knows you’re coming?”

“The lights went off, didn’t they?”

“Won’t it have backup to defend itself against us?”

Cook stared at Stokes, shining the light in his face. “Right,” he said. “Here.”

Stokes accepted the flashlight. As he did, Cook broke into a run, racing down the corridor.

“Sir! Wait.”

Cook didn’t wait, but reached double doors, bursting through into a lit chamber. The doors swung shut behind him.

Stokes heard rifle-fire. The shots went off steadily for a time. Then they paused and started back up. Cook must have brought extra magazines with him.

Stokes ran toward the rifle fire, hitting the double doors with a shoulder. He came into a weird and frightful sight.

A long, low machine or creature—it was impossible to tell—twisted in slow motion. Smoke rose in places. The twisting machine was an odd white color and seemed to have a giant insect exoskeleton. Dark fluids like grasshopper spit oozed from the many bullet holes. Light flashed from membrane screens and then the membranes ripped apart as more dark oily fluids oozed out of the tears.

The choking, foul-smelling air made it hard to breathe. Stokes gagged and began coughing.

Cook stood like a big game hunter, proudly looking through the smoke at his handiwork. He raised the rifle over his head, shaking it up and down.

“Is that Nostradamus?” Stokes asked in a coughing voice.

“Part of him,” Cook thundered.

Stokes stared at the old man, wondering what gave him such energy.

“That feels so good,” Cook growled. “Now, though—” He stared at Stokes. “You have a plan to get us out of here alive?”

Stokes started coughing harder, although he nodded.

“Then, set your plan in motion, Major. You can be sure about one thing: the rest of Nostradamus is going to want revenge.”

Stokes didn’t comprehend. But Cook shoved him toward the double doors. Yes, it was time to take the ex-Lord High Admiral to a place of safety.

***

Leaving the basement area proved easy enough. No more guards or other people tried to intercept them.

“It’s a ghost town,” Stokes said.

“Nostradamus was running them, or part of them anyway.”

“Through telepathy?” asked Stokes.

“Something different, something insidious like what Spacer adepts do,” Cook said. “Where did you get these headbands?”

“Toronto R&D, sir. It’s for use against Spacers.”

“That was excellent thinking on your part to grab them.”

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. The two of them raced through the building, ran outside and turned toward the flitter field.

“The people here won’t stay down long,” Cook said. “In fact, I suspect reinforcements must be on their way.”

“I have no doubt about that, sir. But I’ve planned for it, too. If you’ll get in the flitter…”

“Where are we going?”

Stokes looked up.

“That’s no answer.”

“I’m taking a leaf from Captain Maddox, sir. It’s a risk…but that may be our safest course.”

Cook grinned harshly. “Now, you’re thinking, Major. Yes. Let’s do this.”

Soon, Mike Stokes of Military Intelligence roared upward into the higher atmosphere. The flitter wasn’t space-rated. But Maddox had long ago risked shooting up into low orbit, picked up by a waiting spaceship. Stokes was doing likewise with Cook.

It was good to win one for a change. Maybe they could beat the hidden foe. As the flitter gained high altitude, he glanced at Cook in the other seat.

The old man stared out of the bubble canopy. He was worriedly chewing his lower lip. Finally, he looked over. “Are you stashing me away somewhere?”

Stokes nodded.

“They messed with my mind. I might not be trustworthy.”

“We’re going to fix that, sir. You can count on it.”

Cook grunted. “Defense is important. But to win a fight, one eventually has to go onto the offense.”

“Before one can do that, sir, one needs to know his enemy.”

“Yes,” Cook said. “This one is insidious.”

Then, the two men stopped talking as Stokes began a risky maneuver past the stratosphere as the flitter shot for orbital space and a waiting Star Watch destroyer.

-5-

Captain Josef Becker received an indirect although urgent summons from Director Akon Chom of Political Intelligence. Becker was upstairs in orbit in his special operations corvette when he received it.

Becker had never realized that taking over the Commonwealth would entail so much backbreaking, endless work. He had always worked much harder than the average high achiever. But this…it was ridiculous.

Even Muhammad when he’d upset the religious-political order of the medieval world had more time to indulge himself. According to the bio he was reading, the Prophet Muhammad—

There was a knock at the hatch.

Becker pushed back from the computer console, rubbing his eyes. He’d been reading reports for hours, interspacing it with the bio on Muhammad.

The knock came again.

Becker spun his chair around. “Enter,” he said.

A lithesome beauty came through the open hatch. She wore a modified Star Watch uniform. The skirt was much too short, of course, and she didn’t wear any panties underneath. She was from the Sigma Draconis System just like Director Chom. The beauty wore outrageous high heels just like Becker appreciated.

“Sir,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him. “The Director is quite insistent. He wishes to meet with you immediately.”

“Where?” asked Becker.

She approached closer, handing him a sealed note.

He took and weighed it in his hands. He was so damned tired. He’d been working like a mule for endless weeks, without any breaks—

“Come here,” he told her. “Sit on my lap.”

She complied, as she would do anything he told her, anything. Normally, that would be due to his newfound powers acquired on Jarnevon. At first, he’d loved coercing endless numbers of beautiful women. He’d ravaged hundreds of them. Over the many months, though, his desire had changed. He began yearning for gorgeous women that he didn’t need to mentally coerce to have sex with him.

This little dish—Magyar Jondelle from Sigma Draconis—he’d met her in a bar in Monaco in Europe. There’d been instant attraction on both their parts. He hadn’t needed his coercive power upon her. She must have seen him for what he was: the coming conqueror of Human Space.

It had been a small matter to recruit her into Political Intelligence, making her one of his attendants aboard the Shark, his new name for the corvette. Naturally, he’d scanned her mind once just to make sure about her. The love she had for him—it had startled Becker.

She sat on his knee as he stroked one of her smooth bare legs. Wasn’t it strange that he should yearn for true love after he could have literally any woman he wanted? He wouldn’t have thought it would be like that. Bevies of willing sex-slaves had been his dream for…for as long as he could remember.

“Lord,” Magyar said. “Shouldn’t you be going?”

He laughed. “Did you read the note?”

“Oh, no,” she said.

Gently, he pushed her off his lap and tore open the note, reading Chom’s request. The ex-Lord High Admiral had escaped from the J.B. Center in Montana. The controlling unit there—destroyed! Oh. This was an emergency. So why did Chom wish to meet in the Ardennes Forest? It seemed like a strange location. Maybe the director was becoming too suspicious and security-minded.

“Do you wish for a confirmation call?” Magyar asked him.

Becker ran his hand up her left thigh, cupping one of her butt cheeks. The things Magyar and he did together night and day…it was intoxicating, almost as much as running circles around all the high and mighty who would have spit on him in the past. Soon, his enemies would bow down to him and proclaim him the Master of the Universe.

“What’s so funny?” Magyar asked him.

He looked up into her face, stood and grabbed the back of her head, pushing those gorgeous lips against his. He tongued her before letting go.

The Master of the Universe had a childish ring to it, but Becker liked the title nonetheless.

“Don’t bother with the confirmation,” Becker answered. “I’ll go see him. Make sure you’re wearing your see-through dress when I get back.”

She batted her eyelashes at him again. “What do you have in mind?” she asked archly.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he laughed. “Now, clean up in here. I’ll be back soon.”

“Yes, Lord,” she said.

Becker headed for the hatch. He’d take a shuttle down and see why Chom had posted the meeting in the Ardennes Forest. The man had a reason for everything. Soon, now, Becker believed he would have to eliminate Chom, as the only one working harder than him was the spymaster from Sigma Draconis.

-6-

Becker landed in the Ardennes at the coordinates Chom had given him. He stepped out of the shuttle—it was an hour past noon—and enjoyed the beautiful forest scenery. Birds sang. He saw a deer and its fawn and noticed that no one else was around in this green wonderland.

It was so peaceful.

Becker checked his chronometer, seeing that he was two minutes early. Chom was unbelievably punctual, so it wasn’t a surprise the director didn’t appear from behind a tree to greet him.

Becker looked almost the same as that fateful day over four years ago already. He was still small with thin shoulders and had pallid skin. He wore a black Star Watch Political Intelligence uniform, and looked rather dashing in it, if he did say so himself.

Becker walked around the shuttle and felt a sudden premonition of danger. He’d had many clandestine meetings like this, so that wasn’t the problem. There was something weird about this place. He hurried back to the ladder, climbing aboard the shuttle, striding to the armory. He chose a Norton II Laser Pistol, the very best in personal armament. He thought about calling Chom’s office—Becker headed to the piloting chamber and panel, pressing a comm switch. Nothing happened. That was odd. He pressed the switch again. Once again, nothing happened, no beep, no light, nothing.

Concerned now, he shifted to the pilot controls and tapped a different switch. Not one damn thing happened there, either. He turned and pressed an upper bulkhead switch. It was dead as well.

At that moment, he heard an outside boom, and trees shook fifty meters from the front nosecone. The leaves rustled like crazy and—Becker’s eyes bulged outward. An upright circle shimmered into existence like a holoimage. It had sizzling edges and was perhaps five meters in diameter. He didn’t understand the circle’s significance, but realized it was real as sparks from the sizzling edges caused the nearest grass to smoke.

Then, four armored men, one after another, walked through the shimmering circle from somewhere onto the carpet of grass in the forest. The armor was not of the Space Marine kind. This was medieval or even ancient style armor. Each man was big and tough, although not as big or tough as the largest Bosks. Each wore a Greek hoplite helmet with a Y-slot opening in front. Each helmet had sprouting antennas with sparks shooting from the tips. Each also gripped a long white lance.

The upright circle in the air was clearly transportation technology. Becker had never heard of Star Watch possessing anything like that. The tech implied someone else entirely.

Could the shuttle’s sudden lack of energy have anything to do with the explosion, the shimmering transport circle and these four museum warriors?

Becker’s eyes narrowed. Maybe Akon Chom had discovered the exotic transportation tech. Maybe this was a power play against him. Chom had undergone a Nostradamus transformation, though. Thus, if Chom were making a power play, it would mean that Nostradamus was through with him, Captain Josef Becker.

Becker gulped nervously as he noticed the four warriors eyeing the shuttle. They conferred with each other and began marching for the side entrance. Luckily, the polarized window kept him hidden from them.

Enough already, Becker concentrated at the warriors. But the four must have been too far for his mental dominance to work against them just yet or those sparking antennas did something to block him.

Becker sat, working the piloting panel, trying to start this thing. It would not respond.

Snarling silently, Becker raced out of the piloting chamber and down a short corridor. It would be wisest to take as few risks as possible. This was a shocking turn of events—he headed for the rear emergency hatch. The four would likely try the main steps leading into the shuttle.

The rear exit refused to open. The shuttle lacked all energy, including back here.

Becker drew the laser pistol. How would it fare against medieval armor? He shook his head. That didn’t matter, as it would do wonders against their heads.

“All righty then,” Becker said. His heart raced. He still didn’t like physical confrontations, but he had his mental dominance as backup.

Puffing out his thin chest, Becker turned around, heading for the main hatch. He reached it just as the lead warrior poked his helmeted head within the shuttle. Their eyes met. The warrior’s inside the Y-slot opening seemed strangely addled.

“Who are you?” Becker asked. Even as he asked it, he reached out with his mental dominance, and felt an ice-cold block.

The warrior spoke alien gibberish at him.

Becker aimed and pressed the trigger switch. A gush of hot laser-power struck the warrior, melting the face, causing the warrior to crash back.

In response, narrow, directed flames roared through the hatch. They licked at Becker, and he howled in agony at their touch. He released the pistol, stumbling back to hit a shuttle bulkhead.

Things became hazy after that. Two of the armored warriors hurried into the shuttle. They grabbed Becker, picking him up, laughing as they spoke gibberish to each other. The warriors brought him out and headed for the front of the shuttle.

There was another explosion somewhere, and the circle shimmered into existence once again. Had it disappeared for a time? Becker peered through the circle to the other side. It looked like a lab of some kind with experimental equipment and naked people floating in large aquariums.

Becker started struggling. He wanted no part of that place. His struggles didn’t help him any, though.

Fortunately, Larick and several of his bullyboys crashed through the forest to confront the three armored warriors.

“Set him down,” Larick shouted. He aimed a heavy rifle at the chief warrior.

The warriors dropped Becker, unlimbered the lances from their backs and aimed at Larick and his men.

Heavy rifle fire ended it right there, the slugs punching through the armor and the bodies of the three. As the warriors struck the ground, each began shaking violently.

Becker was already crawling away. It was a good thing he did. Each warrior burst into blue fire, the fire causing his uniform to smolder. The heat was exquisitely hot and painful.

Larick rushed in, grabbed an arm and dragged Becker farther away from the burning warriors.

The captain twisted around, watching them burn into ashes. Then, he looked up at Larick. “Why are you here?”

“Nostradamus sent us an emergency message,” Larick said.

“He sent it directly?” asked Becker.

Larick nodded.

That was a first. “What did Nostradamus say?”

“Only that you needed help.” Larick became reluctant to say more.

“What’s wrong?”

Larick hesitated before saying, “Some of Nostradamus’s Lunar-stationed servants took Magyar Jondelle from your corvette.”

“What?” Becker shouted. “Why?”

Larick stared down at the ground.

“Spit it out, man,” Becker said wearily.

“Nostradamus wishes to speak to you,” Larick said.

“He told you that?”

Larick nodded.

A thrill of fear touched Becker in the middle of his gut. He didn’t like that one bit. Nostradamus had always worked through him. It had been a sign of his strength.

Becker climbed to his feet and stared at the black ash of the four dead warriors. The glimmering circle was no longer there. Just what in the hell was going on here?

“Thanks,” Becker told Larick. “I’ll join you in your shuttle. Mine’s not working.”

Larick stepped aside and indicated they head west. Becker did so. A direct meeting with Nostradamus—that meant he’d have to go to the Moon. Oh, this did not sound good in the least.

-7-

Some hours later, two giant Bosks in thick leather garments escorted Becker through a subterranean lunar corridor. The two held him by the arms. They did so for his own protection, so he couldn’t jump too high and dash his head against the rock ceiling. There was little gravity here, and the captain wasn’t used to that.

Becker had traveled in Larick’s shuttle, reaching a Strikefighter Moon base. From there, Becker had gone by monorail to a Political Intelligence installation on the dark side of the Moon. The installation was the main path to the subterranean chambers holding what Star Watch personnel thought of as a vast computer complex.

Instead, the complex held the Liss Nostradamus and his many Bosk and Draegar attendants. What exactly went on inside the complex was known only to a few. Becker was not one of those so privileged.

The two Bosks and Becker reached a large hatch. It opened on its own accord. The Bosks released him.

Becker rubbed one biceps and then the other. They had held him with cruel strength. Had that been on purpose?

Yes, a voice said in his mind.

“Nostradamus?” Becker asked.

Wait to speak. I am not yet ready for you. Proceed alone into the chamber and wait on the bench. I will attend to you shortly. And walk gently. While I have increased the gravity in here, it is much less than you’re used to.

Becker did as bidden. The large hatch shut behind him. He was alone in the dim rocky chamber. He looked around and noticed that it was lunar rock with a huge membrane wall-screen. Before the screen was a stone bench sized for a man.

Becker shuffled to it and sat down. The bench was cold, the air chilly. He was only wearing his PI uniform and soon began rubbing his shoulders in order to keep warm.

It didn’t help enough, as Becker shivered after a time. Finally, he stood and did some jumping jacks. That reminded him of bullying coaches in high school. He did the jumping jacks anyway and then did deep knee bends. They were much easier to do than normally. He stopped at one hundred and ten, finding that he no longer felt cold.

That was strange, he thought. The temperature in here hadn’t shifted. His body still sensed the chill air, but now it liked it, cooling him down. He would be hungry sooner now, needing fuel to keep his body going—

“Becker,” a bizarre insectoid voice said from the stretched membrane wall-screen.

The human started, looked around and quickly sat on the bench, facing the membrane screen.

An image appeared, showing a naked Magyar Jondelle manacled to a steel floor. Beside her were several long, low, off-color white machines. They had exoskeleton sides and open slots. Narrow bony tentacles slid out, poking poor Magyar here and there, making her writhe in agony.

“I have stimulated her with nu-pain,” the insectoid voice said. “She is most anxious to avoid my prickly touch.”

“Why are you doing that to her?” Becker demanded.

“You dare to question me?”

Becker opened his mouth, hesitating. “I’m curious,” he finally said.

“In essence, you have questioned me. I will remember that, Becker.”

“Are you Nostradamus?”

“Ah. A second question. You are quite inquisitive, aren’t you?”

Becker used his mind, reaching out at the images on the membrane. He felt something and then mind-connected with Magyar.

My darling, why are they doing this to you? Becker asked.

On the screen, the bony points pricked Magyar again. She howled in misery.

So did Becker. He howled and writhed on the stony floor. The pricks continued until he jerked his consciousness from her mind.

At that point, the membrane screen went blank.

Becker panted. What a terrifying experience. Besides the pain, he’d sensed one long sequence of thoughts repeated over and over. Startled, he realized the sequence indicated a woman other than Magyar.

Do you begin to comprehend, Becker? Nostradamus spoke to him the usual way.

Becker considered the question and realized he understood the sequence of thoughts. They meant, “Methuselah Woman Lisa Meyers,” he whispered.

Good, good, there is still a use for you.

Becker frowned, trying to understand the implications. His heart suddenly went cold. “Does Magyar work for Lisa Meyers?”

You are questioning me again. Haven’t you learned how painful that can prove?

“I beg for your forgiveness, Nostradamus.”

For a time, there was no communication.

Becker sat on the lunar bench thinking. If Magyar was an agent for Lisa Meyers, then Magyar had never loved him. If she hadn’t loved him, she’d used him. Yet, how had she managed to fool him when he’d entered her mind?

That is exactly the right question, Nostradamus told him. We have a mystery. In truth, we have several.

“Haven’t you already deciphered Lisa Meyers’ next move?”

I sense bitterness and disillusionment in you, Becker. It turns out that you are quite the emotional creature. But you are still useful to me so I will answer the question. It is true that I can predict many, many avenues. First, however, I need enough data to make the correlations. I lack pertinent data on Lisa Meyers to know with precision what she shall attempt next. However, I do know several useful points concerning her. In that sense, you are lucky.

Becker concentrated on saying and thinking nothing to upset Nostradamus.

Did you know that Brigadier Stokes has successfully rescued the ex-Lord High Admiral?

“I’d heard about it.”

That was cleverly done and will upset my scheduled events. Even so, the latest episode with Lisa Meyers shows me several useful facets. At least to an extent, Meyers knows about me. She thus kept you—a prime agent—under surveillance with her sexual wanton. This tells me many things. If I combine it with Cook’s rescue—

Becker breathed slowly as Nostradamus cut the connection. He had to think this through. The revelations, the betrayal—Becker concentrated. If ever he needed his wits, it was down here inside the Moon. Magyar had used him—he shook his head, grinding his teeth. It was time to think!

And that’s what Josef Becker began to do. If Magyar worked for Lisa Meyers, and if Magyar had sent him to the Ardennes Forest…Had the four warriors using the strange transportation tech worked for the Methuselah Woman? That meant Meyers had tried to kidnap him.

Becker’s shoulders slumped. Nostradamus had given him great powers, but he’d fallen for an elementary ploy. He wanted to become the Master of the Universe. Would he even become the Lord of the Commonwealth after this?

Is that what you truly desire, to become the Universal Master?

Becker straightened. Then, he stood. Maybe there was a chance to repair his standing with Nostradamus.

“Yes,” Becker said. “That’s what I want.”

Truly, it is your greatest wish?

Becker sensed a latent threat with the question, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Think most carefully, Becker. Your answer is critical. What do you wish for most of all? Whatever it is, I can give you. I cannot fulfill all your desires, however.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

Come, come, you’re a clever fellow. I’ve strengthened your intellect and given you dynamic mental abilities. What have you achieved with this? Constant rutting with beautiful females. You desire to lord it over these beauties. Perhaps that is your greatest wish.

“I want power.”

Political power or sexual power? You clearly cannot handle both.

Becker began to sense what Nostradamus was driving at. “I do want both,” he said.

I’ve just told you that you cannot have both. You must choose. Either you can lord it over the beauties or you can lord it over society. But your sexual drive hinders you from thinking clearly enough to rule humanity.

“Are you talking about further modifications to me?”

I am, Josef Becker. If you yearn to become the Master of the Universe, you must shed yourself of your testicles. They have led you into excessive rutting. Since you cannot control that, I will control it for you by removing the temptation.

Becker began to sweat. This was a horrifying proposition.

Do you really think so? I’m offering you your greatest wish. Do you want it or not? Consider carefully, Becker. Lisa Meyers has preyed upon your weakness. You desire love. Your mental coercive power cannot force a woman to love you, because love is a choice. Your mental powers take away choice.

“B-But…”

To achieve greatness, you need single-mindedness. Remember, though, Lisa Meyers preyed upon your weakness. She struck when you grew tired of endless rutting and wanted that which your new mental prowess cannot directly give you.

“I need time to think this through.”

You and I are out of time. Our enemies have become aware of us. That was always bound to happen. We are not quite ready for them yet, though. Therefore, I need a sharp tool, a driven individual. Are you that one or must I find another?

Becker found it hard to breathe. He’d loved Magyar, but she’d betrayed him. She hadn’t really loved him. If he were Master of the Universe, he could make everyone, even the beauties, pay for not loving him as they should. He could make all the future Magyars pay most bitterly for their treachery.

Becker raised his chin. In a raw voice, he said, “I want political power.”

I know you do. My servants are already on their way. They will rid you of sexual temptations. You will be the Grand Eunuch that rules all as the Master of the Universe. Yes, Becker, it is time to intern the Iron Lady and ready a trap for Lisa Meyers. That will dovetail with Captain Maddox’s arrival, I warrant. I’m almost ready. We need just a few more months so nothing can shake my control of Star Watch.

Becker heard the voice in his head, but he was hardly aware of the meaning. A portal opened and a long, low off-white machine moved into the chamber. It had hundreds of tiny appendages on the bottom like a giant centipede. The machine—or Liss—had a bony pair of pincers. It was here to help him achieve his ultimate dream.

Becker moaned, and he hardened his heart. He would be Nostradamus’s prime agent, and he would inflict great sorrows on the universe for making him make this dreadful choice to achieve his great aim.

What did it matter, though? His one true love had spurned and tricked him. Likely, love did not really exist. It was a shame. The only thing that counted was power, raw unadulterated power.

Becker found himself stripped and on the floor as bony tentacles held him down. There was a numbing agent applied to him. Then, he heard a snip—and he howled in agony of soul, even as he realized he would now work with ruthless efficiency so he could gain revenge on everyone in existence.

-8-

A week later, Becker limped along a low gravity lunar corridor. He ached between his legs even though Nostradamus had assured him there was no physical pain.

I’ll probably limp for the rest of my life, Becker thought.

His thinking had shifted this past week due to a number of pressures against his psyche. The first and possibly most damning was Magyar’s betrayal. He hadn’t gotten over it. He would have loved to question her, not to kick her in the ribs or slap her face. No. He couldn’t have done that, not to her. He wanted to know how she could have done that to him. He thought she’d loved him. Maybe he would have slapped her face afterward. Maybe he would have even kicked her in the ribs. It would have depended on her answers.

Becker limped, favoring his left leg. He wore looser pants and no longer wore tight briefs, but boxer shorts. He was sure that helped somehow.

Now, because of Magyar’s betrayal, he could no longer do it with beauties. She’d stolen that from him.

He understood on an intellectual plane that his own excesses had led to this. But he couldn’t accept it emotionally. That meant it was Magyar’s fault, and that meant it was the damned Methuselah Woman who had done this to him.

Becker yearned to wring Lisa Meyers’ neck. He wanted her dead. He wanted Maddox dead, too, but wasn’t sure what that was about. He wanted a host of people to die. If they perished gruesomely that would be all the better.

Nostradamus seemed to have noticed the changes. It was why Becker had spent the last week here instead of returning to his Earth-orbital corvette.

Becker had found himself shoved into a long tube. There, the pain had become exquisite, the neural-mass-compaction rays causing his brain to throb and swell. Giant centipede things had extracted him from the tube, placed him under a machine where buzz saws cut into his skull. The machine enlarged his skull by adding material between the separated pieces. His head had literally grown, and the high-density brain mass had grown with it, expanding in the roomier skull. Sprays had speeded the healing process.

Inside the lunar corridor, Becker halted. His groin hurt and his head—he couldn’t look in a mirror anymore. He didn’t think any woman would consider him dashing now. He certainly didn’t think that about himself anymore. He had a gruesome appearance with an overlarge cranium like some sick superhero villain from the comic books. The extra-large cranium made his face look squished in and too small. His eyes were crazed, as well.

He’d stared into a mirror once, debating whether to unleash mental domination bolts at the hideous freak before him.

That was when he’d vowed never to look in a mirror again. That was when he agreed with Nostradamus to become the whip master of the Solar System.

With his modifications, Becker sensed more thoughts around him. The trick wasn’t in understanding the foreign neural-synapse-thoughts, but blocking them so he could think.

Becker’s outrageously large pituitary gland and incredibly large, dense brain required him to wear a neck brace. He wore one even while on the Moon. It made him look even weaker and nerdier than he was. Bullies would automatically torment him—Becker laughed sourly. They would try. He would dominate them until their small brains fried under the overload. He would make the small-heads dance jigs for him.

Becker slapped his chest. He was a bighead. Everyone else was a small-head small-brain, feeble fool.

“Whip mastering” the Solar System must be a test. Nostradamus wanted to see if he had the right stuff to implement the grand plan. He would run the Solar System as they executed the Lisa Meyers Trap and the Expulsion of Maddox Plan.

Becker would slay Maddox, but Nostradamus had a few more plans for the captain and his monkey-headed crew.

“What a difference a week makes,” Becker muttered.

Becker.

Becker came to attention. He wore a special military hat that hid to some extent his enlarged cranium.

Are you through feeling sorry for yourself?

I am, Becker told Nostradamus, using the new function his bigger, heavier brain allowed him.

You must shed these emotions.

I’m in the process of beginning that, Becker said.

Don’t equivocate and don’t dodge the issue by using a Maddox tactic. Begin expunging your emotions, or I’ll do it for you.

Becker nodded, and he stumbled forward, surprised at the imbalance of his large cranium.

It will be worse on Earth.

Becker said nothing, waiting for orders as he leaned a hand against a lunar wall, having regained his balance.

Fletcher is stubborn concerning the Iron Lady. You will change his thinking on that, and you will prepare him so that if Maddox arrives, I can use the captain in the Lisa Meyers Trap.

When do I leave for Earth? Becker asked.

At once, Nostradamus told him. Do you have any questions?

None.

You’re growing, Becker. You’re becoming more like a Liss every day. In time, you’ll rule the Commonwealth. From there…we shall see.

Yes, Becker said. And he did see, understanding the utility of shedding his emotions. At that instant, he understood the wisdom of his castration. That was odd and awe-inspiring.

Oh, you’re learning quickly indeed, Nostradamus told him.

With a lighter step, with hardly a limp, Becker turned and headed in the other direction. It was time to reenter the arena of life and start twisting the small-headed fools into doing his Master’s bidding.

-9-

Captain Josef Becker limped through Star Watch Headquarters in Geneva, Switzerland. His former optimism had taken several hits since landing on Earth.

One such hit was his neck muscles strained to hold up his huge cranium. Without the neck brace, he would have been helpless.

Despite the desire to rid himself of emotions, the brace embarrassed him. He wanted to project strength and power. He wanted others to wilt in terror upon seeing him.

Instead, others turned and stared as he passed. He could feel their puny, ugly thoughts in his huge intellect. They thought he looked grotesque. The women thought that the most, as did some of the effeminate men. The tough guys were astonished such an obvious weakling wore a captain’s uniform. They wondered what kind of freak they let into Star Watch these days.

Becker would have liked to stand over them and make them scream and plead for mercy. Their thoughts were making it difficult for him to practice emotionlessness.

That likely meant Nostradamus would have to alter him once more.

Frankly, Becker feared that. Worse, he feared he would give that away if he returned to the Subterranean Moon Chambers. The need to guard his thoughts—

Stick to the plan, Becker told himself. He needed to show Nostradamus that he could run the Solar System. He needed a deft touch, not massive applications of raw brainpower.

He reached the outer office of the Lord High Admiral. The older, pretty Ms. Livy looked up from her desk, unable to control her dismay at the sight of him.

“Yes?” she asked.

Becker almost inclined his head. That would have been a terrible mistake, as he might have staggered forward until he struck her desk. He carefully balanced his head, keeping it centered.

“I’m here to see the admiral.”

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“Captain Becker,” he said.

No recognition appeared in her eyes, and she had a keen memory. “Yes, Captain Becker has an appointment with the admiral. What does that have to do with you?”

“I’m Captain Becker.”

“Is this a joke?” she demanded.

Becker struck her mind too hard. She collapsed back against her chair, her eyes wide. Then she flopped forward, striking her desk with her face. Blood began pooling almost immediately. She must have hit her nose too hard and it had started to bleed.

Becker muttered to himself, wondering what he should do.

The door to the Lord High Admiral’s office opened, and tall Fletcher looked out. “My goodness,” Fletcher said loudly. “What’s wrong with Ms. Livy?”

Becker nearly lost his balance as he turned around, but he managed to do it while avoiding the old man’s rush.

Fletcher grabbed Ms. Livy’s shoulders, lifting her from the desk and leaning her back. “She’s stopped breathing!” Fletcher shouted.

“Stop it,” Becker said, and in his near panic, he struck the old man with too strong a mental command.

Fletcher released her and staggered back until his shoulders hit the wall. He slid down until he crashed onto his butt.

Becker panted, carefully levering himself into one of the secretary’s chairs. He faced Fletcher, and he concentrated on applying enough mental domination, but not too much.

“You’ll worry about her later,” Becker said.

Fletcher stared at him in amazement.

“She’s fine,” Becker said, trying a different approach. “She’s sleeping because she had a hard night.”

“Oh,” Fletcher said. “I didn’t know. I should give her a few days off.”

“Good idea,” Becker said. “Now let’s go into your office.”

“Shouldn’t I check on Ms. Livy?”

“She’ll get up in a minute,” Becker said. “First, I have to tell you a few things.” He concentrated, staring at the old fool.

Fletcher winced horribly and his eyelids fluttered. Afterward, he said, “Here now,” climbing to his feet. “Let me give you a hand into my office. Your head looks too top-heavy for you.”

“No!” Becker shouted. That wasn’t what he’d mentally told the old fool.

Fletcher winced horribly once more, and tears filmed in his eyes.

“Do you understand?” Becker shouted.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” Fletcher whimpered.

A cruel smile stretched onto Becker’s face. Then, he remembered that Nostradamus needed the old fool.

“Go into your office,” Becker said. “I’ll help Ms. Livy. After I’m done, I’m going to give you orders.”

“Yes, Lord,” Fletcher said meekly, heading for his office.

Once the door closed, Becker turned his chair. Then he reached out with his mind, summoning the nearest person. He would practice controlling that person just right. When he found the correct balance, he would reset Fletcher to do the things Nostradamus wanted done.

Becker swallowed uneasily. He hadn’t realized the full extent of his expanded powers. This was incredible. Once he got the hang of it—“I will rule the universe. I will. I know I will.”

The next few weeks, he believed, should prove to be interesting indeed.

-10-

From General Almanac to the Planets

Eleventh Edition (1211)

Jarnevon: Third largest planet of the Bosk System, second in orbital order.

Planetary Constants:

Diameter: 11,783 kilometers

Mass: 1.21

Mean day: 22 hours, 18 minutes and 33.9 seconds.

General Remarks: Jarnevon (also known as the Bosk Homeworld) is a rocky, desolate world of high mountains, low, narrow valleys and intense storms. The original colonists struggled to survive in this environment, eventually using artificial reproductive science to boost the dwindling population. This led to the so-called “vats,” and Methuselah Man Strand’s meddling several decades later…

Afterthoughts: The notorious Star Watch campaign under Admiral Piedmont and the savage resistance of the Bosks led to orbital bombardment to break the native ability to fight. This led to a hard and intensive effort by Star Watch Intelligence to uncover the reason for the unrelenting Bosk opposition, and for a possible connection to Lord Drakos’s Hardliner New Men Faction…

As the various events took place on Earth, Victory left the Beyond and raced through Human Space, through the Commonwealth, straining to reach the planet Jarnevon. Maddox employed the star-drive jump as well as using as regular Laumer Points.

Jarnevon wasn’t quite on the opposite end of the Commonwealth, but it was far away from where they’d entered, and the journey took precious weeks.

Often, other Star Watch personnel in various systems treated Victory’s appearance suspiciously. A few times, a warm reception via comm told Maddox and Ludendorff that some of Star Watch resisted the new changes and policies working their way through the large domain. Even as efficient an organization as Star Watch needed time to change policies through many star systems when messenger ships had to travel the light-years from one place to another.

The number of known Long-Range Builder comm devices could be counted on two hands, and not all of those belonged to Star Watch.

During the race to Jarnevon, Ludendorff asked for and received his old science chamber. He began working there, insisting that he do it alone.

“Do you trust him, sir?” Galyan asked one day after Maddox had finished lifting.

“You aren’t secretly checking up on him?” Maddox replied.

“I have been. Was that wrong?”

“No. I thought you’d tell me if Ludendorff was doing something strange.”

“That is not it, sir,” Galyan said. “He is doing something I do not understand.”

“Ah,” Maddox said. “Then it’s time I paid him a visit. What is he doing?”

“Working on headbands,” Galyan said. “I do not think it is a fashion statement. So, what could it be?”

“I’m about to find out,” the captain said. He showered first and then headed for the science chamber.

Several decks lower, Maddox knocked on a hatch. He wore his customary uniform, including a blaster sidearm. He knocked several times.

The hatch opened after the fourth attempt. Ludendorff stood just inside. “Oh, Captain, please, do come in.”

Maddox walked into the chamber, noting strewn equipment on various workbenches. At the farthest bench were metallic headbands with small bulbs attached to each.

Ludendorff noticed the direction of the captain’s gaze. “Those. I thought Galyan had studied them longer than anything else. You show that I was correct in my assumption.”

Maddox eyed the professor.

“Didn’t think I’d notice his ghostly form prowling about my laboratory, eh? No, no, Captain, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…”

“What are they?” Maddox asked.

“Oh, so you’re not going to deny that he was spying on me, eh?”

“Why would I?”

“When will you learn to trust me?”

A faint smile appeared on the captain’s face. “Perhaps we could better spend our time on getting ready for Nostradamus. It’s clear you’ve been preparing. Do you care to tell me why?”

Ludendorff indicated they move to the farthest workbenches. Maddox complied, and they sat down there. Ludendorff picked up a bottle of wine, uncorking it and pouring into two glasses.

“I knew you’d be coming,” Ludendorff said, handing one glass to Maddox.

They clinked goblets afterward, each sipping and studying the other.

“As you suggest,” Ludendorff said, “I’ve been doing some heavy thinking, maybe even some soul-searching. I’ve had bitter experiences with the Bosks, the Draegars in particular. That was over four years ago now. The Draegars were Strand’s experiment for a time.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“I know, I know,” Ludendorff said, sipping his wine. “I’ve begun to wonder about the Draegars, and about Strand, too. Did the essence of the Liss trickle up from subterranean chambers to infect the Bosks and through them Strand and the Draegars?”

“A mystical notion,” Maddox said. “That isn’t my department.”

“My dear boy, you as the di-far say this?”

“There’s nothing mystical about my status.”

Ludendorff laughed, shaking his head. “You say that only because you’ve learned to believe it. Of course, the concept of di-far is mystical.”

Maddox shrugged. He didn’t care to argue the idea.

Perhaps Ludendorff understood. “We’ll stick to the issue. According to my understanding, the Liss were great diggers and miners, forming entire communities and societies in subterranean realms. They perfected certain mental abilities, able, I think, to communicate with each other in some sort of mass mind-meld. They died out, however, becoming extinct eons ago. Yet something of their essence lived on—Nostradamus, it would appear. That pattern or essence eventually showed up in the Draegars, mind specialists. Strand had never had a bent in that direction until he began experimenting with those on Jarnevon.”

“You can prove this?”

“To my satisfaction,” Ludendorff said. “If you don’t want to believe me…that’s your own affair.”

“Suppose you have a point?” Maddox said.

Ludendorff swirled his goblet, watching the red wine. He gulped the rest of it down, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He set the goblet aside and cracked his fingers. Getting up, he approached the very last workbench and picked up a metallic headband.

It was not as flexible as the one Stokes had taken from Toronto R&D.

“I’ve considered your Becker story for weeks,” Ludendorff said. “It has fascinated me. The Bosk Hekkus was also interesting. The idea Nostradamus increased the density of each man’s brain and caused the pituitary glands to enlarge… Clearly, it had a mental effect.”

“On Hekkus’s and probably Becker’s ability to mentally manipulate others?” asked Maddox.

“You doubt this?”

Maddox shrugged.

“Consider Earth history,” Ludendorff said. “In this instance, a Grigori Rasputin. Have you heard of him?”

Maddox shook his head.

“He was a Siberian peasant during the final years of Tsarist Russia. He came from a family of horse thieves. Something happened to him and he began wandering Russia. He fell in with a group of heretical Christians. They believed that the more you sinned, the more God could forgive you. Thus, they would have orgies in the forest.”

“Sounds like your kind of peasant,” Maddox said. “Is there a point to this?”

“Patience, my boy, patience. You know I always have a point.”

Maddox sipped his wine, waiting.

“There was more to Rasputin, though. The accounts speak about his strange eyes and the powerful effect he had on people. He had an even greater effect upon women. In any case, he ended up in the Tsar’s Court because he could calm the Tsar’s son, a hemophiliac. A hemophiliac has a harder time stopping any kind of bleeding. When the young boy became calm after receiving a cut, it would help him scab up and heal. When Rasputin spoke to him, the Tsar’s son would relax.”

“And?”

“Rasputin seemed to have some form of mental domination. How he did that, I don’t know.”

“And?” asked Maddox.

“There was another man, an evil one called Adolf Hitler.”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“He had a hypnotic effect on many. For instance, many powerful military men came to him, thinking to tell him how to run the losing war. Hitler would usually convince them he knew what to do. It was a mental form of domination.”

“You’re saying like what Hekkus practiced?”

“I’m not saying it was exactly the same,” Ludendorff replied, “but a stronger form of mental domination. Nostradamus has strengthened the effect in select humans. Is this mental domination telepathy? I don’t think directly, not as we envision telepathy in any case. Remember, the Liss had a mass mind-meld, an insectoid function. What I’m saying is that historical individuals like Rasputin and Hitler—and others like them—displayed mental domination or hypnotic powers, proving its existence. Nostradamus has strengthened the power. Mental domination has never been a mere figment of people’s imagination.”

“An interesting point,” Maddox said.

“I’m not suggesting Rasputin or Hitler could communicate mind to mind, of course.”

“No,” Maddox said.

“But maybe Hekkus and Becker achieved this feat through an increase in their mental domination power, maybe through a Liss application of the mass mind-meld technique.”

“The headbands stop something like that from happening?” asked Maddox.

“Well, sir,” Ludendorff said. “I’ve debated with myself for quite some time. I’ve wondered if what we’re witnessing in your stories is a combination of Rasputin-Spacer adept abilities.”

“The Spacer adepts have inner modifications—gadgets—and can use invisible rays to affect neural connections in a person’s brain.”

Ludendorff began to clap his hands. “You finally see it. Maybe Hekkus and Becker can do with their denser brains what Spacer adepts can do with their mechanisms.”

“Electronic jamming equipment didn’t protect Becker’s men from Hekkus.”

“Which is what gave me the clue to these,” Ludendorff said. “They operate on a different principle from a jammer. The headbands aren’t trying to block the neural-effecting rays but occupy the human brain with the headband’s stimulations.”

“Like the photon-suits against the Ska,” Maddox said.

“It’s not a one-to-one correlation, but in a manner of speaking I suppose that’s correct.”

“I understand,” Maddox said. “Do you think we’ll need these on Earth?”

“No, on Jarnevon,” Ludendorff said. “We must find the Liss caverns and search them for clues as to what exactly Nostradamus is.”

“Sounds risky.”

“It may be,” Ludendorff said. “But I suspect we’re going to need some ace cards if we’re going to survive our homecoming on Earth. Those ace cards will be hard to acquire, but I’m certain the best place to find them is the underground chambers on Jarnevon.”

Maddox swirled his goblet, swirled it more. Finally, he set the glass down and stood. “Make more of those, Professor. If you’re right, we may need to stage a commando raid into Jarnevon.”

“Like Becker and his men did?”

“No,” Maddox said. “We have to succeed, not let whatever is down there overwhelm and control us. That means we might need some serious firepower in the crypts of Jarnevon, and that means Space Marine battlesuits and the men who know how to use them.”

-11-

A little over six weeks after leaving the temporal distortions in the Erill System, Victory entered the Jarnevon System, named after its chief planet. The starship came through a Laumer Point several million kilometers from Jarnevon. Maddox sat in his command seat as his bridge officers began to revive.

Soon, Valerie noted the amount of comm chatter between the planet and the Star Watch Bismarck-class battleships in orbit.

“I’m counting seven battleships, sir,” Valerie said.

Maddox nodded.

“They’re leaving orbit,” she said. “Sir, they’re heading toward us.”

“Or the Laumer Point,” Maddox said.

“I don’t think so, sir,” Valerie said. “There are four attack cruisers and five missile cruisers. They’ve come around Jarnevon to join the battleships.” She turned in her seat. “I think they’re our reception committee.”

Maddox rose thoughtfully from his command chair. He approached the main screen.

Valerie manipulated her panel. “This is at high magnification, sir.”

The rocky, brown planet blew up in size. The seven battleships and nine other capital ships joining them were easily visible due to their long tails of hot exhaust.

“Do you see any haulers in orbit?” asked Maddox.

“I do,” Valerie said. “They’re heading around the planet compared to us as if they’re hiding from sight.”

Maddox nodded, rubbing his chin. “You have the bridge, Lieutenant. I’m going to speak with Ludendorff.”

Valerie rose, heading for the captain’s chair.

Maddox exited the bridge, calling for Galyan and asking him the professor’s whereabouts. The Methuselah Man was in the cafeteria eating a late breakfast.

Maddox’s stomach rumbled. A late breakfast sounded good about now. He headed for the cafeteria.

Ten minutes later, he joined the professor, who was reading a computer slate as he finished his breakfast plate.

“Oh,” Ludendorff said, looking up. “I wouldn’t expect to find you here. I figured we were jumping straight to Jarnevon.”

Maddox sat, setting his plate on the table and using his knife and fork to cut a steak, popping a piece into his mouth. He ate runny egg afterward, using the hash browns to mop up the yellow yolk. Only then did he tell the professor about the flotilla heading for them.

“That sounds like a small fleet to me,” Ludendorff said.

“What’s your guess concerning their intentions?”

“I see,” Ludendorff said. “Are they going to stop us from landing on the planet or will they attempt to intern Victory?”

Maddox nodded.

Ludendorff tapped his fork against his empty plate until he shrugged. “It could be either. Perhaps we should head straight for Earth.”

“What if Earth is just as bad?”

“That’s a Methuselah Man question,” Ludendorff said. “I have to constantly assess situations wherever I go. Perhaps that’s why I’ve put up with your arrogance all this time. Victory has been a safe harbor for me on many occasions.”

“Either way,” Maddox said. “We’re not going to be able to test your headbands on Jarnevon. The aggressive fleet maneuvering means Nostradamus has outguessed us in this system.”

“Not necessarily, but most likely you’re correct. I should have foreseen this. It was our obvious play, and Nostradamus would want to keep his origins as secret as possible from us in particular.” He nodded his white-haired head. “I submit that one of those battleships has a Long-Range Builder comm device. I would guess the flagship. That being the case, its captain would likely be controlled by Nostradamus or by one of his brain-augmented agents.”

“That suggests exploring Jarnevon would be advantageous to us.”

“Of course,” Ludendorff said.

“Why?”

“What kind of question is that? I have no idea other than what I’ve already proposed.”

“Come, Professor, if anyone has more than one idea, it’s you.”

Ludendorff seemed to preen, nodding afterward. “That’s true, that’s true. Well…why doesn’t Nostradamus want us to explore Jarnevon? We would discover something about him that we don’t already know.”

“That he isn’t Liss?”

“He’s Liss or a Liss creation,” Ludendorff said. “We’ve concluded Nostradamus must be some kind of computer. He must realize we would guess that. Galyan has seen a Liss computer firsthand—”

Maddox snapped his fingers. He sat up and said, “Galyan, report.”

The little holoimage appeared. “You called, sir?”

Maddox told Galyan their conjectures. “Now, given all that, what is your conclusion?”

Galyan’s eyelids fluttered until they didn’t. “I agree with the professor, sir. There is something critical Nostradamus wishes to hide from us.”

“Question,” Maddox said. “Is that something worth our resisting the approaching battleships?”

“The professor is correct,” Galyan said. “The fleet or flotilla commander will likely have a direct link to Nostradamus on Earth.”

“Do you think that’s where Nostradamus is?”

Galyan’s eyelids fluttered more. “That would be the strategically wisest location for Nostradamus to be.”

“Really, Captain,” Ludendorff said. “I don’t need this ancient AI judging my views as correct or not. I should be weighing his views as right or wrong.”

“I do not mean any disrespect, Professor,” Galyan said.

“Well, I take it that way.”

“We’ll stick to the issue,” Maddox said sternly. “What is Nostradamus hiding inside Jarnevon? Knowing would probably give us a greater clue as to his objectives or how he will succeed in gaining them—given that taking control of Star Watch is his ultimate aim.”

“Ah…” Ludendorff said. “Shrewd, Captain, I think you’re right. I also think we’re not going to determine the answer through sheer brainpower. Nostradamus must have concluded that as well. He is a fearsome opponent, I must say.”

“What you have just said is mere conjecture,” Galyan replied.

“Maybe you see it that way,” Ludendorff said primly. “I happen to recognize brilliance. But then it often takes genius to recognize genius. Nostradamus is a genius, and I believe he is outmaneuvering us all along the way. Perhaps he’s playing for time.” Ludendorff snapped his fingers. “Here’s something to consider. Nostradamus may not want us to see how empty of Bosks Jarnevon has become. He may have readied the crazies for just such a day as this. Maybe the time he took Mary O’Hara captive—through the Draegars, I mean—was with this endgame in view.”

Maddox set his knife and fork on the empty plate. He’d polished off breakfast in record time. He wiped his hands, stood, and threw the napkin onto his plate.

“I appreciate the comments,” the captain said. “They’re going to come in handy.”

“How?” asked Ludendorff.

Maddox grinned at him before he headed for the hatch. It was time to get back to the bridge.

-12-

Seven and a half hours later, Maddox faced Rear Admiral Kaelyn Neema of Vega from his command chair. She was on the main screen. The Jarnevon-based fleet and Victory were still closing in on each other, but they were close enough now for rapid communication, but still too far apart for beam weaponry to reach each other.

“Captain,” Kaelyn said. She was in her early forties, one of the up-and-coming admirals, known for her creative turn of mind and adherence to orders. She had short dark hair, dark eyes and chiseled, plain features. “The planet is under quarantine. You must desist your acceleration and decelerate so we can board and search your vessel.”

“Quarantine,” Maddox said. “That sounds serious. What happened?”

“A toxic virus has spread among the population. It is highly contagious. Tens of thousands of people have died, including far too many Star Watch personnel.”

“Ah…” Ludendorff said, who stood well back of Maddox. “That’s a neat little cover story.”

“Did you say something, Captain?” the rear admiral asked from the screen.

“No,” Maddox said.

“I thought I heard mumbling.”

Maddox shook his head. “Do you think the Bosks engineered the virus?”

“I do not. I don’t think anyone engineered it. The deaths…it’s a ghastly plague, Captain. Now, do as I say and begin decelerating.”

“How long has the quarantine been in effect?” asked Maddox.

“That is not the issue. Your compliance with Star Watch regulations is.”

“Oh, we’ll comply, Admiral. You can be sure of that.”

“Then, begin decelerating,” she said.

“Just a moment, please,” Maddox said. “Helm, begin a long turning maneuver. I want to head straight for the Laumer Point.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Keith said.

On the main screen, Rear Admiral Kaelyn Neema leaned forward. “Are you deliberately trying to goad me, sir?”

Maddox appeared surprised. “On no account, Admiral. I’m obeying your orders. I recognize the quarantine as dangerous. The virus must burn itself out on Jarnevon before it spreads elsewhere.”

“I told you to stop.”

“We are,” Maddox said.

“You’re making a turning maneuver,” she said in outrage.

“Correct,” Maddox said.

The rage evaporated as the rear admiral blinked at him several times. She blinked longer. “Just a moment, Captain. I must confer—”

“Of course,” Maddox said, interrupting. He turned to Valerie and made a slicing motion across his throat.

The lieutenant was used to his unusual methods and cut the connection.

“What are you trying to prove?” asked Ludendorff, who rushed forward.

“You’re on the bridge,” Maddox reproved. “Mind your manners or you’ll have to leave.”

Ludendorff opened his mouth but closed it with a snap. Everyone knew that Maddox didn’t like anyone questioning his orders, especially the command decisions that he made on the bridge.

“Increase speed,” Maddox told Keith. “If they launch missiles, I want you to jump.”

“Any particular heading, sir?” asked Keith.

“I would like to jump behind Jarnevon and see what’s going on there, but I wonder if Nostradamus will anticipate such a maneuver. No. Make a long jump in the direction of Earth. This time, we’ll do the obvious, running back home as fast as possible.”

Keith began setting the coordinates.

“Sir,” Valerie said. “The admiral is hailing us.”

“Put her on the main screen,” Maddox said, who crossed his legs as she appeared.

Kaelyn Neema wasn’t smiling but stared at him sternly. “You’ve tested my patience, Captain. I have full authority in the Jarnevon System. Know, there has been a rash of smuggling operations in the system. I have to make certain you did not pick up any floating cargo.”

“You have my word as a Star Watch officer I didn’t.”

“Of course, you would say that if you were smuggling.”

“I’m not,” Maddox said.

“Don’t interrupt me, Captain. This is serious business. I won’t tolerate your well-known, New Man ways. You will adhere to regulations, or I will make you wish you had.”

“Admiral, isn’t it possible someone on your ship is infected?”

“No,” she said.

“I also have full authority,” Maddox said. “The Lord High Admiral has given me independent command. I’ve been on a special mission to the Beyond. I cannot accept your orders therefore, but I do that regretfully.”

She stared at him. “Why did you come to Jarnevon?”

“I cannot legally answer that, as that would violate my secret orders.”

She blinked rapidly, soon shaking her head. “You did not receive secret or special orders.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

Kaelyn Neema stared at him longer this time. She straightened, frowning. “You’re correct. I couldn’t know. How could you think I would know?”

“It was a rhetorical question,” Maddox said.

Her nostrils flared, and she made a shooing motion with her left hand. A second later, the connection was severed from her end.

“Most odd,” Ludendorff said. “It would seem that your power of pissing people off includes those under Nostradamus’s control.”

Maddox merely grunted, thoughtfully rubbing a cheek.

“Sir,” Valerie said. “The Jarnevon fleet is turning. It seems they’re heading back for the planet.”

Maddox waited.

“I don’t detect any missile launches,” Valerie added shortly.

Maddox stood, putting his hands behind his back.

“Were you testing her?” Ludendorff asked.

“No. Nostradamus,” Maddox said.

“Ah, of course,” Ludendorff said. “May I ask what you discovered?”

“That we still have a little time left.”

Ludendorff grinned. “I’ll hate myself later for admitting this publicly, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Maddox turned, eyeing the professor.

“Fine, fine,” Ludendorff said. “If you want me to admit it, I do know. Nostradamus won’t openly show his control yet. The rear admiral or the admiral’s Hekkus-like controller slipped up. She or her controller knew what your orders were, but she had to pretend otherwise. That means Nostradamus is still waiting for something. Eventually, he will move openly.”

“But only when he’s ready,” Maddox said. “I needed to know that. This seemed like as good a time as any to find out. Now…” Maddox faced the main screen.

The waiting Laumer Point was out there.

“Helm,” Maddox said. “Wait until we’re almost in the portal. Then, use the star-drive jump.”

Ludendorff nodded. “The rear admiral’s controller will report that to Nostradamus.”

Galyan spoke up. “Professor, how do you know she has a controller?”

“The captain showed us,” Ludendorff told the holoimage.

“Oh,” Galyan said. “The captain gave her hard-to-understand replies. That was why she had to cut the connection. She needed further instructions. But if those instructions are given mentally—”

“We don’t know how they’re given,” Maddox said. “We would have noticed if the comm connection had remained intact. That’s the point.” He sighed. “We have time; how much time, we don’t know. That means we’re making an emergency run. We have to get to Earth as fast as we can.”

PART IV

THE “M” AGENDA

Top Secret

Executive Memo #19

From: Commodore Akon Chom

Chief of Political Intelligence

Subject: Expulsion of Captain Maddox:

As we proved in Memos #3 and #7, the New Men of the Throne World are laboratory-created hybrids and self-identify as a superior life form compared to Homo sapien humans. They are, broadly speaking, as deadly to continued human existence as Methuselah Men Strand and Ludendorff and Methuselah Woman Lisa Meyers.

If the New Men achieve a biological breakthrough so their offspring include females as well as males, they will have taken the first step in a two-step process to becoming beyond human. It is, however, the second step that we must consider when categorizing Captain Maddox.

According to Memo #3, Methuselah Men Strand and Ludendorff created the New Men through a process of genetic selection and breeding combined with DNA tampering. It was the DNA tampering that resulted in the species of New Man.

Our best effort to uncovering the exact process has led us to conclude that eugenicists inject DNA-altering drugs into the fetuses of New Men-impregnated women.

According to the After Action Analysis of the Drakos-Thrax Affair twenty-seven months ago, Captain Maddox secretly met with Golden Ural. From Ural, Maddox learned the identity of his New Man father. More importantly, Maddox learned that he failed to receive the prenatal DNA altering because his mother, Sandra O’Hara, escaped the Birthing Facility before the injections could be administered.

This lack of altered DNA means, naturally, that Captain Maddox is not a full New Man in the accepted sense of the term. His genetic heritage is New Man, as any fully altered fetus comes from the sexual union of a New Man and a regular human female.

Does this mean then that Maddox is simply a genetic freak, lacking in full New Man genes or outlook?

The question is not easily answered. According to the After Action Analysis of the Drakos-Thrax Affair, Maddox slew and ingested the essence of a so-called spiritual entity Erill from the City of Pyramids on a planet in the Beyond. Erills are believed to have originated in a different dimension of the multiverse, a few having reached the City of Pyramids many thousands of years ago through alien transfer. It is believed that Maddox used a Builder symbol pre-inserted into his subconscious years ago in the distant Builder Dyson Sphere. This happened, apparently, so Maddox could slay and ingest such entities.

Obviously, that suggests the Builders not only altered Maddox, but also approve of him. Why do these hidden aliens think Maddox is good? It is a troubling question indeed, given our present problem with Methuselah Woman Lisa Meyers and her stated goal of revitalizing the Builders.

[Memo #21 will address our thoughts concerning these meddlesome “super” aliens.]

In any case, as fanciful as these so-called facts seem, there appears to be direct, observable evidence that something happened twenty-seven months ago to revitalize Captain Maddox. He was said to have received a “soul wound” in the Alpha Centauri System at the end of the First Swarm invasion when he slew a spiritual entity Ska.

[Please refer to Memo #11 regarding the existence of the Ska and their Destroyers.]

Maddox’s new vigor suggests he has finally obtained New Man-like reflexes, physical stamina and other New Men characteristics. Combined with the discovery that Golden Ural is his uncle, it is more than probable that Maddox now self-identifies as a New Man.

Despite what some term as Maddox’s “heroic actions” in aiding Star Watch throughout the years, we must proceed with caution entrusting him with the continued security of what he surely considers his genetic inferiors. While some might suggest his love for Mary O’Hara—his grandmother—might cause him to side with humanity, if he uncovers the ongoing Iron Lady Insertion plan, said love will likely guarantee he goes rogue against Star Watch.

This is not only my theory, but was given a 72 percent probability by the Lunar Predictive Computers. This being so, it is my suggestion that we move to eject Captain Maddox from Star Watch.

Interestingly, the Lunar Predictive Computers have already postulated several high-success strategies.

Allow me to stress, however, that Captain Maddox is dangerous and cunning, and still maintains allies and confederates within Star Watch. The best method for rendering Maddox inert would, of course, be by using his known proclivities against him. The Lunar Predictive Computers suggest that incorporating Maddox into the Iron Lady Insertion plan would give us the highest probability of success and deniability.

If the Committee agrees, I will personally initiate the Expulsion Agenda myself and thereby leave the rest of the operatives in the clear.

END OF EXECUTIVE MEMO #19

-1-

Once more, Victory raced across the Commonwealth, this time speeding for Earth. Maddox pushed everyone, including himself.

Three weeks and four and a half days after leaving the Jarnevon System, the ancient Adok warship jumped into the Solar System between the orbits of Mars and Earth.

Victory accelerated until orders arrived via comm from a Moon-station relay. Victory would come into Earth orbit in the company of three Conqueror-class battleships, the Alexander among them. Afterward, the captain would head for Star Watch Headquarters. First, he would speak with Director Akon Chom of Political Intelligence. If Maddox cleared there, the Lord High Admiral wished to speak with him privately.

“They’ve been waiting for us,” Ludendorff said.

Maddox nodded.

The three heavy battlewagons left lunar orbit, heading out to intercept Victory.

The Alexander was in the lead. It was the prototypical Conqueror-class battleship, round and heavily armored, and it was one of the deadliest warships in Star Watch. It was smaller than the double oval of the ancient Adok warship. With its upgraded shield and weapons, though, it could possibly defeat what had been, until a short while ago, the most lethal warship in the Commonwealth. The fact of the Alexander, of all Conqueror-class battlewagons, was due to several of Victory’s many successful missions, for instance gaining better shielding and weapons technology. Another key was supermetals from the chthonian planet in the Alpha Centauri System. The supermetals gave the Alexander fantastic shielding and its high-energy disruptor cannons.

Since they were in the Solar System, Maddox ordered Valerie to contact his grandmother. The lieutenant met a security wall, utter silence about Mary O’Hara’s whereabouts or even existence.

Maddox conferred quietly with Ludendorff about that. Neither of them knew what it meant.

“Galyan,” Maddox said.

“Yes, sir,” the AI asked.

“I don’t care how you do it,” Maddox said. “Just don’t get caught.”

“Are you going to ask me to do something illegal, sir?” Galyan asked.

“I am. Will you accept the order?”

“Of course,” Galyan said.

Maddox ordered Galyan to find out what he could about the Iron Lady, using his long-range hacking skills if needed.

For the next several hours, Galyan tried various methods, but the AI failed to uncover anything concerning Mary O’Hara.

“That’s strange,” Maddox said in the cafeteria. “Why would they do that?”

Ludendorff shook his head. “It’s like the old Soviet Union.”

“More history lessons?” asked Maddox.

“That’s right. It doesn’t hurt to know why and how humanity came to be the way it is.”

“Your point?” asked a distracted captain.

“The Soviet Union used to make its old unwanted heroes disappear from the history books. They no longer existed in the corporate memory. Maybe that’s what Nostradamus has done with your grandmother.”

Maddox’s eyes narrowed. “For their sakes, they’d better hope she’s still alive.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“Yes,” Maddox said. “If they hurt her—”

“This is far bigger than Mary O’Hara,” Ludendorff said.

“Maybe to you,” Maddox said. “For me, family comes before nation.”

“Says the man who at one time wanted to kill his father.”

“Watch your mouth, Professor.”

Ludendorff shrugged. “I’m on your side, remember?”

“Then help Galyan find the Iron Lady.”

Ludendorff spread his seamed hands.

Maddox rose abruptly and left to call the Lord High Admiral’s office. Fletcher couldn’t speak to him right now. The secretary asked if he would like to leave a message. Maddox thought about it and finally directly asked about his grandmother’s whereabouts.

Crickets.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Maddox said later from the bridge where he’d been brooding. “Galyan.”

“I am sorry, sir,” the holoimage said upon appearance. “I can find no record of your grandmother.”

“What does that imply to you?”

“A fearsome intellect,” Galyan said. “Scrubbing every vestige of her is an amazing feat.”

“Yes,” Maddox said, rubbing his chin. He stared nowhere in particular with a hooded gaze. Finally, he stared at Galyan. “You have a new assignment. I’m supposed to meet with Commodore Akon Chom of Political Intelligence. I want a rundown on him. Find out all you can about him.”

“Will do,” Galyan said.

During all this, Victory bored in until the starship slowed as the three battlewagons reached its vicinity. The battleships smartly maneuvered until they surrounded the larger starship, and they all headed for Earth.

When the four vessels passed the Moon, they each began slowing as they maneuvered for orbital entry.

At that point, Galyan gave his report in Maddox’s chambers. Meta was out.

Akon Chom was from the Sigma Draconis System. He had been born and raised on the planet Daroca, a Spartan society known for harsh competition and fierce soldiers. Many of them became Space Marines. Some of the best combat space officers were from Daroca.

“Why did Director Chom go into Intelligence?” Maddox asked.

“I think you will find this interesting,” Galyan said. “Chom changed course a little over four years ago.”

Maddox’s eyes lit up. “He was at Jarnevon?”

“That is good, Captain. You are correct. He is a hardcore officer, one of the first to join a small group becoming the Humanity Manifesto true believers. HM—”

“I’m well acquainted with their philosophies,” Maddox said. “Ludendorff has filled my ears with it. They want to get rid of the Methuselah Men, the New Men, the Spacers—what’s wrong?”

“Do they want to get rid of me, too?” asked Galyan.

“I don’t know. Probably.”

“After all I have done for humans?” Galyan asked.

“It’s an outrage,” Maddox said without heat.

“Oh. I forgot, sir. You have saved humanity many times over. They should kiss your feet instead of spit in your face.”

“Yeah,” Maddox said. “Thanks for the report. I’m going to get some shuteye.”

Galyan disappeared.

Four hours later, Maddox found himself in the cafeteria, picking up a steaming cup of coffee. He hadn’t slept well. When Meta had come to bed, he’d kissed her and gotten up. He’d wandered the corridors for a time. What had happened to his grandmother? Should he try to find her and race away to the Throne World? If Star Watch hated him, where did he belong? He wasn’t fully a New Man, even though he bet he could beat one in a fistfight, using his newfound energy to do so.

Maddox sat in the cafeteria, sipped the scalding coffee and jerked back. Damn. That was hot. He swirled the cup, trying to cool it. He wasn’t sure how long he sat like that.

Maddox noted movement as Galyan appeared near him.

“Captain, we are less than ten minutes from arriving at our orbital slot. Keith is already warming up your shuttle. Did you not hear Valerie calling for you?”

“No,” Maddox said.

“Are you well, sir? You seem distracted.”

“I’ll pilot myself down today.”

“Oh,” Galyan said. “That is unusual, sir.”

“It’s good to keep in practice,” Maddox said, standing. He did not add that he wanted Keith upstairs near a jumpfighter. He was having a premonition about this.

Maddox took a gun belt and weapon from the table and belted it around his waist, buckling it. Afterward, he opened the flap, drew the blaster and checked its charge, shoving the weapon back into the holster. He headed for the hatch.

“Perhaps I should join you, sir,” Galyan said.

Maddox shook his head.

“Perhaps I should go dim and—”

“No,” Maddox said. “Not this time.”

“But—”

“That’s an order, Galyan.”

“Yes, sir. Please be careful, sir.”

“We’ll see,” Maddox said. With that, he headed for the exit. It was time to find out what had happened to his beloved grandmother, Mary O’Hara.

-2-

Maddox went down fast from orbit, picking up three strikefighters as he entered the stratosphere. The sleek one-man fighters flanked him, giving him ongoing commands concerning his flight path and speed.

Maddox obeyed without comment. He did note through his sensors that the strikefighters had hot weapons targeted on his shuttle. Would Nostradamus order them to kill him and be done with it?

No. The strikefighters peeled away as Geneva Spaceport batteries gained target lock on his shuttle. The main operator gave him precise instructions, informing him that failure to comply in any of them would cause the batteries to open fire.

Maddox did as ordered, landing with a thud onto the tarmac. Keith would have done it feather-soft. The shuttle was well away from any hangar, from any other building, flyer or air-car. Sirens wailed as he walked down the steps of the shuttle onto the tarmac. It was a little after two in the afternoon, the air pleasantly warm. He noted the mountains in the distance.

Armored vehicles screeched to a halt, three of them. Military police piled out. They wore body armor, although none of them wore powered battlesuits. The armor was a dull gray color with scarlet cloth showing in places and silvered visors shielding their helmeted faces. Each of the MPs carried a heavy rifle, all of them aimed at him.

“Captain Maddox?” asked the sergeant-in-charge.

“Yes?”

“Please unbuckle your gun belt, sir.”

“Am I under arrest?” asked Maddox.

The MPs stiffened. The sergeant-in-charge barked, “Disarm, Captain, or we will immediately open fire.”

After a half-second of thought, Maddox unbuckled the belt, proffering it, the holster and weapon in it to the sergeant-in-charge.

“Drop it on the tarmac,” the sergeant shouted.

Maddox did so.

“Step away from it.”

Maddox backed away.

The sergeant-in-charge motioned to one of the MPs. The man shouldered his rifle, approached the belt and drew the blaster from the holster, checking it. He turned to the sergeant and nodded.

“Please step into the last vehicle, Captain. We’re escorting you to Star Watch Headquarters. Any deviancy from the norm will result in your immediate arrest.”

Maddox did not nod or ask for clarification. He headed for the last armored car, never looking back. He sensed their tension, their fear of him. That seemed unwarranted.

Four MPs followed him into the armored car. None of them had their rifles. All had revolvers. All kept their distance in the armored car while aiming their guns at him.

“Mind if I ask a question?” Maddox asked.

“No talking,” the sergeant-in-charge said.

Maddox debated that, finally turning his head.

The ride took twenty minutes. The MPs escorted him outside. They were in an underground garage. The full escort marched him to an underground security station. There, Maddox underwent full body X-rays.

He must have passed, for a new batch of armored, visor-wearing MPs escorted him up elevators into guarded corridors. He counted twelve military police guarding various locations in the corridors.

Soon, they reached familiar territory. He was headed toward the Iron Lady’s former office. It surprised Maddox, but that struck him hard. Did they know Galyan had searched for her? Was this an insult?

The captain noticed an officer stick his head out a door and hurriedly duck back in and shut the door as they passed.

“Am I seeing Brigadier Stokes?” Maddox asked, knowing very well he wasn’t but wanting to see the reaction.

None of the MPs answered the question.

Maddox almost halted and told them he would walk no farther unless he received some answers. The way the MPs tensed…two of them gripping holstered shock batons… Such a display on his part would bring about an attempted beating. They might shoot him if he resisted too strenuously.

Maddox shrugged inwardly. He was in the fire now. Maybe he should have done this a different way. Maybe Nostradamus was toying with him. Had he been too late getting back to Earth?

The MPs brought him to the old Iron Lady’s outer office. Maddox noted the writing on a door. He was still going to see Commodore Akon Chom of Political Intelligence. This Chom had the Iron Lady’s old office. That office had a secret corridor to the old Lord High Admiral’s office. If Fletcher were in the old office, Chom would have direct access to him.

Political Intelligence must be superior to Military Intelligence. Did Strokes still run M.I.?

A red light flashed in the waiting room.

The MPs stood, heading for the outer exit. They seemed to be in a hurry to leave.

At the same time, the inner office door opened. Maddox heard a familiar purr of powered exoskeleton battle armor. A MP in the battlesuit aimed an arm cannon at him.

“Captain Maddox,” the outer suit speaker said. “Come in, please.”

Maddox stood. Just what was going on? This was excessive security, an example of paranoia. He walked toward the door, nonetheless. The armored MP retreated before him.

Maddox entered the room. Another power-armored MP aimed an arm cannon at him. The two were against the back wall.

“Captain Maddox,” said the man behind a sealed desk. “Please, come and sit. We have much to discuss.”

The desk was inside a glass box. There was no apparent entrance. The desk and chair looked like his grandmother’s old ones. The man inside the glass box was large and muscular with a chrome dome. He had slanted eyes and wore a glossy black uniform with a red clenched-fist symbol armband around the left biceps.

Maddox waited.

“Hello, Captain. I’m Commodore Akon Chom, the Director of Political Intelligence.”

“Glad to make your acquaintance, sir.”

Chom raised an eyebrow. “Are you really?”

“I said it.”

“Ah, so you did, so you did. Now, please, Captain, no more demonstrations like you made earlier on the tarmac. You’ve been too unruly, demanding answers at every turn. Must I resort to violence to get your attention?”

Maddox raised his eyebrows before glancing back at the battlesuited MPs. He faced Akon Chom again. It felt as if Nostradamus was toying with him. If the Liss Intelligence was this far along, why bother doing all this? It made no sense.

With a fatalistic shrug, Maddox went to the only chair, sitting down and seeing what would happen next.

-3-

Chom folded thick fingers on the desk. He smiled the way a crocodile might while eying a fawn coming to take a drink in the waterhole near dusk. Chom had white teeth and rugged features.

“One of my duties as the director is to ensure full allegiance to Star Watch. I also run the military police. Much of the security you’ve witnessed is my doing.”

Maddox waited.

“Do I sense disapproval on your part, Captain?”

“In what regard?” Maddox asked in a neutral voice.

“Concerning security, of course. You attempted to bicker with my people at every turn.”

Maddox remained silent, waiting for the reason for the meeting.

“All this surprises you, doesn’t it?” Chom said.

“May I ask in what way?”

Chom sat back, eyeing him. “Please, Captain, don’t try your coy routine with me. I’ve studied your file in exacting detail. I’ve gone over each of your exploits at headquarters. You’ve quite the cavalier attitude regarding your superior officers. You often do as you wish. One visit, for instance, you darted the chief of Star Watch Intelligence, darted an official Prime Ministerial liaison and killed the Prime Minister’s chief political advisor.”

“Methuselah Woman Lisa Meyers was the liaison,” Maddox said, “although we didn’t know the first part about her. An android infiltrator acted as the Prime Minister’s chief advisor and was busy attempting to program Lord High Admiral Cook when I killed the android.”

“And the chief of Intelligence then, the one you so casually darted?”

“Had sexually compromised himself with Lisa Meyers,” Maddox said.

“And this gave you license to rampage throughout headquarters, firing at will?”

Maddox indicated the glass cage and the battlesuits behind him. “These are precautions against such rampages?”

“You’re a quick study. Yes… You’re like a New Man in that regard, aren’t you?”

In the past, Maddox might have reacted at such a comment. Not today. Not in the least.

“Hmm…” Chom said. “Do you think it cowardly of me to sit behind protective glass?”

Maddox shrugged.

“Ah, but Captain, haven’t you watched an android prisoner through a two-way mirror before? Does a man walk naked into a cage with a man-eating tiger? Or does a cripple dare to fence with a master duelist? No. If one is physically weaker, one uses his mind in lieu of muscles. Mankind didn’t climb to dominance through pitting his strength against elephants, but through using his intellect.”

“I’m the elephant?”

“You’re highly dangerous. Naturally, the two battlesuited-police officers could shoot you down like a mad dog. But what if you jumped me and held me captive before they could react? The glass prohibits you from taking such action. Through my intellect, I’ve thwarted the physically superior specimen.”

“Why should I jump you, Director?”

“Why would you dart the former chief of Intelligence?”

Maddox said nothing, although he wondered if that was a subtle admission by Nostradamus that the Liss controlled the situation.

Chom indicated the glass cage and the battlesuited MPs. “This is how weaker, slower and duller men protect themselves against supermen. Firstly, they don’t take stupid chances. Secondly, they understand the differences and make logical adjustments. New Men, androids and Methuselah Women have often done as they wished at Star Watch Headquarters, gaining what they wanted through the use of their superior capabilities.” Chom folded his thick hands. “Let me assure you that those days are over. We’re not going to let androids, New Men or others waltz around as they wish. We’re protecting humanity against all comers.”

Maddox nearly asked about his grandmother, how her biographical erasure fit in all this. Instead, he said, “I’m curious. Does Political Intelligence monitor political reliability?”

“Oh, you are a fantastically quick study, Captain. It’s impressive, and salutary for me to witness in person. This is interesting, interesting indeed.” Chom leaned forward. “In this instance, political reliability also refers to genetic reliability. Does a New Man such as yourself believe in the Commonwealth? More precisely, are you willing to die to save Homo sapien humanity from the Throne World?”

“By your own admission, you’ve studied my file. I’ve served Star Watch loyally for years. I’ve sacrificed deeply to obtain one victory after another for—”

“Why?” asked Chom, who hunched his thick shoulders like a vulture seeking answers.

“Sir?”

“Did you serve Star Watch because the New Men had rejected you?”

“Begging your pardon, but that’s absurd. I’ve hated the New Men for most of my life. You know that.”

“Notice the past tense, Captain. You hated them versus hate them. What did Golden Ural tell you down on the planet when the two of you were alone together after the Battle of the Gomez System?”

“My father—” Maddox said, halting in mid-sentence.

“Go on,” Chom said. “Your father, what?”

“Loved my mother,” Maddox said stiffly.

“Is that why your father raped her, out of love?”

Maddox checked himself from lunging forward. What would have been the point of that?

“Speak up, Captain. I expect my people to answer me when I ask a question.”

“Excuse me. Have I been transferred to your command?”

Chom’s eyes narrowed. “Did you call Stokes before coming here?”

Maddox blinked several times, shaking his head. He should have called Stokes. He should have sent Galyan to see Stokes. Not doing so had been a mistake. Maybe their erasing the Iron Lady’s biographical data everywhere had upset him more than he’d realized. Had Nostradamus predicted that would happen?

Chom picked up a folder, opening it, scanning something before closing it again. He regarded Maddox.

“I requested your transfer into Political Intelligence. Your status is troublesome, something of this, something of that, but not wholly anything of one. You’re Patrol rated and deployed, and yet part of Intelligence. Stokes fought hard to retain your services. Given present circumstances, you will remain under his guidance for a special mission. He will give you the particulars. I wanted to speak to you personally, however, and gage your loyalty to Star Watch, to the ideal of saving humanity from the dangers out there. I find you troubling, Captain.”

“Thank you,” Maddox said.

“Ah, your signature manner,” Chom said, pushing the file away and pausing as if thinking. “There is something that puzzles me, though.”

Maddox nodded.

“Why did your fellow conspirators on Earth kill Ms. Livy?”

“Who?”

“Nice try,” Chom said. “I could almost believe that you have no idea who I’m referring to.”

“I don’t.”

Chom eyed him. “I see. This is what you look like when surprised. I won’t forget it.”

“Who is Ms. Livy?”

“She’s dead.”

“You already said that,” Maddox replied.

“Did I? Oh, yes, yes, I did.”

Maddox shrugged. He could have Galyan look into the death of this Ms. Livy later.

“Fine, Captain. You’ve passed muster just enough.”

“And…?” asked Maddox.

“And I bid you adieu, although I give you fair warning. Do your duty.”

“Director Chom,” Maddox said, suddenly tired of the man and this cat and mouse. “You can rest assured I will do my duty with utmost vigor.”

Chom become more alert. “What does that mean?”

“You know exactly what it means,” saying it in such a way and tone that Maddox didn’t need to add, “you bastard,” to have the meaning come through perfectly.

Chom’s face darkened. “You’re overbold, Captain. You’re here in my office after all. Anything could happen to you.”

Maddox noticed the dimmest flicker of movement in the corner. It had the shape of an Adok holoimage. Galyan had disobeyed orders. Maddox would like to know why but would have to wait to find out.

“Director,” Maddox said, buoyed by Galyan’s presence. “You obey orders, don’t you?”

Chom’s eyes narrowed.

Maddox refrained from taking it further, Galyan or not. “I do likewise,” he finished, deciding to end this game.

Chom kept staring at him, abruptly nodding. “We’ll call this meeting a test, an observation on my part concerning you. Thank you, Captain. You may leave. I’m sure the Lord High Admiral is waiting for you.”

Maddox stood. He refused to salute, but turned smartly, heading for the door. The excessive security, Galyan’s disobedience—the game had moved into higher gear.

-4-

“Do you understand what I’m telling you, Captain?”

Maddox sat before a huge desk in the office of the Lord High Admiral of Star Watch. He’d finished his brief regarding his time in the Erill System, having left out everything that had happened on the planet. Fletcher had asked questions, Maddox had answered, telling the older man nothing he didn’t want Fletcher to know. Then Fletcher had asked if Ludendorff was aboard Victory. Maddox had lied, saying no.

Now, Fletcher had started a new line of inquiry.

“I asked you a question, Captain,” Fletcher said in a querulous, old man’s tone.

“Sir,” Maddox said.

Fletcher frowned. He’d changed since Becker’s last visit and changed much since Maddox had last seen him. The Lord High Admiral’s shoulders hunched, and he’d been losing weight again. The right side of his face was stiff. He presently gripped a computer stylus in his right hand, a hand resting on the perfectly arranged desk. The grip seemed too tight, and Maddox had detected a quiver to the hand.

Was that why Fletcher kept his hand on the desk? Was he attempting to mask his frailty? The Lord High Admiral hadn’t seemed so frail two years ago.

There was a minute tightening to Fletcher’s eyes. That highlighted a web of wrinkles on his forehead. He seemed weary, and crotchety because of it.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” Maddox said.

Fletcher’s clenched right hand scraped over the desk as he leaned back. The clenched hand dropped off the desk onto his lap. Fletcher used his left hand to adjust the right. Then he glanced up, perhaps to see if Maddox had noticed.

The captain was studying a painting to the admiral’s left. It was of a schooner sailing on a rough sea.

Fletcher worked his mouth in and out, saying, “I refused the first two times they asked me to come out of retirement. Then, all the officers on the Board of the Admiralty united. They told me I had to take the post or Byron would become the new Lord High Admiral.”

“Yes, sir,” Maddox said. He knew all this. Why did Fletcher see the need to rehash two-year-old news? This was bizarre.

“No,” Fletcher said with a frown. “Don’t give me that. I know what happened in the Beyond when you faced Drakos and Thrax. Byron would have been a mere figurehead if he’d become the new Lord High Admiral.”

Maddox said nothing. Fletcher had obviously deteriorated mentally and physically since the last time they’d met.

Fletcher raised his eyebrows and leaned forward. “If you ever repeat any of what I just said…”

“No worries there, sir.”

“I’m not worried,” Fletcher snapped. “But I’ll make dammed sure you are if you start repeating rumors.” Using his left hand, Fletcher raised his right fist, setting it back on the desk. He shoved his body closer and glared at Maddox. “I know what you think. I can see it on your face. You’re no different from your uncle, Golden Ural. You think you’re better than us and…”

“Sir?” Maddox asked, stunned at this performance.

Fletcher shook his head, turning away. “Maybe I shouldn’t have raged at you just now. This job eats at a man’s soul. I can’t imagine how Cook lasted for so long.” Fletcher regarded Maddox as he might an exotic insect. “I’m going to be frank, Captain. I’ve studied your file for days, hearing you were coming home. I know you think you’re di-far, some special kind of agent of change. The Spacers did us a disservice putting such nonsense into your head. You do know it’s nonsense, right?”

“I doubt it matters what I think.”

Fletcher’s eyes narrowed and he spoke in a low voice. “I can summon people who will stuff you into a deep dark hole, Captain. There, you’ll rot out the rest of your existence. I’m not the only one who realizes it’s a terrible mistake giving…” Fletcher caught himself and trailed off.

Maddox said nothing, trying to understand how leaving a senile old man in charge of Star Watch helped Nostradamus.

“You will address me as sir and speak to me humbly as befits my high rank,” the Lord High Admiral said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Now. Answer the question. Do you really believe that you’re di-far?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

Fletcher scowled. “You honestly think you’re a historical agent of change?”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but that isn’t the meaning behind the word.”

Fletcher nodded as the scowl smoothed away. He sat straighter. “I run Star Watch, and I will not tolerate disobedience and certainly no outright insubordination of the kind you used to practice against Cook. I’ll bust you down in ranks so fast…” Fletcher trailed off. There was a triumphant gleam in his eyes as he studied the captain. “Do you think that’s unfair of me?”

“Lord High Admiral, I’ve retained my commission because I believe you love Star Watch. I’ve seen you in action on many occasions. You’re courageous and a gifted fleet commander. I willingly serve under you, sir.”

“You speak as if we’re equals.”

“No, sir. I’m merely the captain of a unique starship and crew. Like you, I yearn to protect humanity, most especially my grandmother.”

“The Iron Lady,” Fletcher muttered. As he spoke the words, his focus shifted. “Has Brigadier Stokes already spoken to you?”

“In reference to what, sir?”

“Never mind,” Fletcher muttered. “You’re here because the brigadier asked for you personally. Stokes believes you and your crew can find our hidden enemy better than anyone else can. I tentatively agreed, on the condition that I spoke to you first and assured myself you understood the parameters. You will obey orders, Captain, or you will wish you had. That means you will do exactly as Stokes says. Do you agree with that?”

“I do,” Maddox said promptly.

“That ‘I do” I consider as binding.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go off the reservation, Captain…” Fletcher stared at him until a tiny smile played upon his lips. “By the way, I’m sending you reinforcements from Political Intelligence.”

“I see,” Maddox said.

“We’ve made some changes while you were away. For all our sakes, I hope you realize that your cowboy days are over. You may believe that you’re di-far and a New Man in all but name, but to me, you’re a Star Watch officer and had better damn well act like one. Any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Then, go talk to Stokes. He’ll give you your new assignment. I suspect the handiwork of Lisa Meyers or possibly the New Man agent from Pandora. That’s the agent that tricked you several years ago in the Carlota Casino regarding Vint Diem.”

Maddox stood and saluted smartly.

Fletcher eyed him, and the Lord High Admiral seemed frail and had a faraway look in his eyes.

Fletcher flicked his left hand in dismissal.

Maddox rotated smartly. It was time to talk to Stokes all right.

-5-

Galyan felt awful for directly disobeying Captain Maddox, but in this instance, he believed it warranted. Galyan still felt he was partly under the directive to do everything he could to find Mary O’Hara.

A short time ago, he had indeed found her mentioned. It was in highly classified data under a sub-division of Political Intelligence. It regarded moving Mary O’Hara to a special rehabilitation center. Galyan believed the center was somewhere on Earth in the Southern Hemisphere. He had also found another reference, this one about ex-Lord High Admiral Cook. Cook had been in a rehabilitation center in Montana but had made an escape somewhere into space.

The sub-division of Political Intelligence was to make sure nothing like that happened to Mary O’Hara.

Now, Galyan observed Maddox leaving the main headquarters building, heading to a different Star Watch HQ campus building. The captain had not made any gesture nor spoken any word to indicate that Galyan should appear near him. Therefore, Galyan kept his distance.

The dim holoimage watched for those watching Maddox. It was strange, but people acted oddly around Maddox, too many of them covertly eyeing him.

Maddox headed into a building.

Galyan zipped in ahead of him, projected from Victory in orbit. The captain walked down various halls. Space Marines watched everyone here but did not give extra attention to the captain.

Maddox rode an elevator up, soon walking along the fifth floor. The Space Marines watched him again and watched those who noticed Maddox too carefully.

Galyan noticed one odd man. He was small, pallid and—Galyan made a quick calculation. The man possessed an extraordinarily large head, mainly the cranium. The Space Marines did not watch that man. They did not notice him in the slightest.

That was abnormal. There had to be a reason for it.

Maddox went to see Brigadier Stokes. The bigheaded man hurried into a nearby office, moving as if no one would question him.

Galyan calculated odds and made a decision. He projected himself into the office where the bigheaded man had gone just in time to see him order the man working there to lie on the floor and go to sleep.

The man did just that.

Then, the bigheaded man took the empty chair, swiveled it around and sat down in it. He faced the wall that adjoined Stokes’s office. The man wore a neck-brace and obviously worked at balancing his overlarge head just so. The man rested his chin against upraised hands. He closed his eyes, and exuded concentration.

Galyan debated options. Who was this man anyway?

Galyan’s eyelids flickered faster and faster. He kept at it for a time, narrowing it down to—Captain Josef Becker!

Galyan’s eyelids quit flickering. That was an altered Becker. This was a Liss agent. He must—Becker was listening in to Stokes and Maddox. Should Galyan let him eavesdrop like this?

Galyan glided behind the seated captain. He gathered energy back up in Victory, and he flashed it through the projected ghost holoimage!

The flash struck Becker. The man shot out of the chair, his big head thumping against the wall. The combination of shock and thump caused Becker to slump dazed onto the floor. He groaned, tried to rise—

Galyan shocked him again.

This time, it was enough. The eavesdropper shuddered before falling unconscious. At that point, something in Becker’s jacket began beeping.

Galyan analyzed, and he sensed—with something approaching panic, Galyan zipped back upstairs to Victory. He needed to lie low because he had just sensed an alien presence that had almost detected him. And there was something to the presence that was all too familiar.

Galyan would wait just a little before he called Maddox and told him what had happened.

-6-

Unaware of any of this, Maddox entered the brigadier’s main office.

Stokes with his dark goatee looked up as Maddox walked in. The man sucked on a stimstick, red smoke leaking from his nostrils. He’d been writing on a computer slate.

“Welcome back,” Stokes said.

Maddox nodded. “Thanks.”

“Now, sit, sit,” Stokes said, his focus back on the slate.

The secretary closed the door behind Maddox. He took a chair, crossing his legs and waiting. He found it relaxing in here. There were no protective glass cages, no battlesuited military police. Perhaps Stokes hadn’t caught the HM virus yet.

The brigadier continued scribbling on the slate. He must have been absorbed, as ash dribbled from the end of the stimstick. He frowned, jerked up and wiped his lap. He mashed out the stimstick afterward, stared at the slate and clicked a button, sending a message to someone.

A bump sounded from a wall. Stokes and Maddox glanced that way. Stokes frowned. After a second, Maddox shrugged.

“Captain,” Stokes said. “Have you spoken to Director Chom and the Lord High Admiral yet?”

“I have.”

“Then you understand, I presume.”

Maddox cocked an eyebrow.

Stokes felt his uniform jacket pocket and pulled up a pack of stims. He thrust the pack toward his face, his lips nibbling and finding one cigarette-tip slightly higher than the rest. He drew it out and sucked the stim into life, drawing deeply.

“Filthy habit,” Stokes said mildly. “I’ll have to quit one of these days.”

“The Lord High Admiral said something about a special mission,” Maddox said.

Stokes nodded. “It involves O’Hara.”

Maddox straightened. “Why couldn’t we find any mention of her anywhere?”

“What do you mean?”

“Records, computers, all mention of Mary O’Hara has been scrubbed.”

Stokes eyed the captain. “How did you discover this? Never mind,” he said a second later, waving his hand. “I don’t want to know. If you keep your own secrets, I can’t give them away.”

Maddox frowned. This didn’t sound like the Stokes he knew. “My new mission regards my grandmother?”

Stokes stared at him intensely. “Before we get into that, did you discover anything interesting in the Erill System?”

Maddox nodded slowly.

Stokes continued to stare. He held up a hand suddenly, as if coming to a conclusion, reached down, opened a drawer and withdrew a scrambler, setting it on the table. The slight vibration showed it had already been activated, must have been working the entire time.

“Oh,” Maddox said. “I see.”

Stokes held up the computer slate. On it were the words, Despite the scrambler, I’m sure Nostradamus is listening. How, I don’t know. Do you know about Nostradamus?

Maddox nodded.

Strokes slumped in obvious relief before straightening again. He clicked the slate, showing Maddox the words: We’re going to play a charade. During it, I’ll give you your assignment and warn you about Political Intelligence. The real enemy is Nostradamus.

Maddox nodded again, indicating paper and pen. Stokes pushed the items over. Maddox scribbled, showing Stokes: Nostradamus is a Liss creature or creation. He is from Jarnevon. Have you heard of Captain Josef Becker?

Stokes shook his head.

Maddox wrote again, When can we really talk?

Stokes shrugged, shaking his head.

Maddox thought about that, writing, Let’s get started then. I want to know about Mary.

Stokes cleared his throat. “The Lord High Admiral spoke about a mission. Believe me when I say that I worked hard to gain oversight of it, and I worked even harder to get you assigned to it. I don’t know all the parameters regarding it, but we’re the spear tip on this one.”

“Oh?”

“It involves your grandmother as I said.”

Maddox straightened, not sure what to say, finally muttering, “The Iron Lady.”

“Ex-Iron Lady. You’ll need to remember that. Oh, she had a good run. The troubles of her post finally caught up with her, though.”

Maddox frowned. “She paid a high price for taking a risk years ago and trusting Ludendorff. Her risk ultimately helped Star Watch, though.”

Stokes nodded encouragingly. “Very true. I hope to live up to her reputation.” He sucked on his stim. “Now, listen, Captain, as this is important. I’m all that’s standing between you and harsh Patrol duties from here to eternity. If you thought two years in the Beyond was long—Fletcher despises your methods. You wouldn’t believe the number of likeminded admirals and commodores who are itching to make an example of you.”

“Does this hate have anything to do with Humanity Manifesto Doctrine?”

“You’ve heard about that, eh? It’s the rage here at headquarters. Chom is a diehard proponent of it, but there are others just as powerful. Listen, the HM boys and girls have ramped up security like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I’ve seen it.”

Stokes nodded. “The trouble is that maybe they’re right. How do we stop New Men, Spacer and android spies from infiltrating us like they have in the past?”

“The Iron Lady knew how.”

“No, she didn’t. She had a few successes, I’ll grant you. But it was never enough to make sure. The HM people have gone crazy, but you know what? Their craziness worked. They caught a Lisa Meyers spy and interrogated her to death. Because of that, they slew four Lisa Meyers assassins several weeks later attempting to make hits against those in High Command. Another time, Conqueror-class battleships swooped in on two stealth vessels, burning them into crisps. They might have been Spacers or another Lisa Meyers attempt. My point is that some HM thinking is sound enough. We regular folk might not be the brightest around, but we can hunker down together and make the smart move if we keep on our toes.”

Maddox stared at him.

Stokes showed him the slate: They caught a spy, I heard, a Lisa Meyers plant. The rest is BS.

Maddox nodded thoughtfully. “So, ah, you agree with what the HM people are doing?”

“To a degree,” Stokes said. “They’ve compartmentalized Intelligence and maybe that’s good. Maybe that makes it harder for spies to do what they did in the past. We all watch each other. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I guess,” Maddox said. “Where do I fit in, though? Chom thinks I’m a New Man.”

“It’s not only him. But you have people like me in your corner. There are many in Star Watch who appreciate your former exploits. It means Chom and the others need a pretext to act against you. I hope you don’t give them one.”

Maddox waited.

“Confound it, man! Can’t you see I’m an ally?”

“We both love the Iron Lady,” Maddox said. “I see that much.”

“Er, well, she’s your grandmother. She used to be my superior officer. She was a—she’s a remarkable woman. She’s in danger, though. That’s what Chom has told me. I went to Fletcher. Chom followed. The two of us argued it out with Fletcher as a referee. Finally, the Lord High Admiral agreed I could use you and add you to her security team.”

Stokes held up the slate: This is real.

Maddox nodded. “What’s going on? Why won’t you say it straight?”

Stokes hesitated before saying, “It’s possible Star Watch and the Commonwealth are in danger through your grandmother.”

“How?”

Stokes stared at Maddox. “She’s hearing voices again.”

The captain grew tense, raising his eyebrows.

Stokes nodded. “Chom’s operators have detected the old signals, the same type and frequency when Mary escaped her Pacific Island Compound.”

“Her prison, you mean.”

“Call it what you want. We know those—let’s call them neuron rays. We know the rays are focused on her again, and we know she is highly susceptible to them. We haven’t been able to pinpoint their exact location—their origin point—but the rays have intensified the last few days. I’d hoped to have fully briefed you before this and—”

“Pick her up,” Maddox said. “Secure her.”

Stokes scowled, shaking his head. “Firstly, she is secured in a rehabilitation center.”

“I’m talking about putting her on a battleship or better yet, onto Victory.”

Stokes wrote on a pad. Don’t blow this. Keep calm.

Maddox looked away before nodding.

Stokes wrote again. I think this is Nostradamus’s plan. But this is what I’m supposed to tell you.

Maddox sighed, indicating to talk already.

“While I might agree with your basic feelings,” Stokes said, “Director Chom convinced the Lord High Admiral that this is the best way to capture Lisa Meyers. Fletcher is a frightened old man when it comes to Meyers.” Stokes stopped and cleared his throat. “The Lord High Admiral believes that Lisa Meyers will make good on her original threats. We know aliens will take shots at Star Watch and most certainly at Intelligence. As I told you, they already have since the Battle of the Gomez System. While the Iron Lady—Mary—is no longer in charge, she knows far too much about delicate Intelligence operations. Kidnapping her would amount to a coup for several of our hidden enemies.”

“You said she’s in a rehabilitation center. Kidnapping her should be impossible if the place is guarded heavily enough.”

Stokes wrote, We have to make this look real to the Lisa Meyers agents. That’s why all mention of Mary has disappeared. If Nostradamus is going to trick Meyers, he has to go all out.

Maddox read and ingested that.

“I don’t like this,” Maddox said. “My grandmother is bait. Chom or the HM people are dangling her in the wind. The idea of allowing the kidnapping attempt to take place—it’s bait in more ways than one. They must know I won’t willingly jeopardize my grandmother…”

Stokes gave him a thumb up.

“I imagine my grandmother is in a remote rehab center,” Maddox said.

“East Antarctica,” Stokes said.

“Uh-huh. Bait. I imagine Chom figures a Lisa Meyers agent will make a stab for her soon. We have to dangle O’Hara in the wind, let the enemy get as close as possible, and capture the enemy agent. Nothing can go wrong with that.”

“Listen to me. This is critical. I hope I have your undivided attention.”

Maddox nodded.

“Fletcher has ordered us—me—to let whoever kidnaps your grandmother succeed.”

“What?”

“I told you to listen.”

“Okay…I’m listening.”

“You’re going to trail the kidnappers afterward. But my guess is that both Fletcher and Chom hope you disobey orders and save her. Then, the HM people will have a pretext to cashier you from the service.”

“And if I don’t rescue my grandmother?”

“I already told you. You follow her kidnappers and hopefully find Lisa Meyers on the other end. Capturing Meyers is critical.”

“And if this is a hit against O’Hara instead of a kidnapping attempt?”

“You know the answer to that. O’Hara dies.”

“You agreed to this?”

“Now see here. I’m on your side. Chom and the others are after you. If the director ran the whole operation…you and I have to work together. We’re on the same side, after all.”

“Who’s on O’Hara’s side?” Maddox asked softly.

Stokes scowled, shaking his head. “There’s no doubt that she’s caught in a vicious vortex, one partly of your making.”

“Because of my DNA?”

Stokes gave him another thumb up. “Because you’re an arrogant son of a bitch and rub people’s faces in your exploits. It’s too bad your grandmother might end up paying the bill for that.”

“I understand,” Maddox said. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes, a further complication, I’m afraid. During our debate with Fletcher, Chom convinced him that you need a political observer. That means an HM observer. In this instance, a certain Ervil Larick will be breathing down your neck aboard Victory. Make one mistake or indiscretion and Larick will report it to Chom. That could mean your dismissal.”

“And you’re against that?”

“If you mean do I like you personally, the answer is no. But have you saved the day before? Unquestionably, that is so. I also think you’re a key asset to Star Watch. The first Visionary got it right by naming you di-far and all that implies. One last thing. I hesitate to say it, but there is something odd about your—about O’Hara being in the East Antarctica rehab center. It was a special facility before.”

“Special how?”

“A brainwashing center, you could say.”

“And now?” Maddox asked, his voice hardening.

“There’s no evidence of that going on now, but I’ve wondered why O’Hara was sent there.”

Stokes wrote: This is very true. I rescued Cook from a Rehab Center in Montana. Nostradamus was brainwashing him there. It’s up to you to save your grandmother.

“You spoke to her at the Rehab Center?” Maddox asked.

“Never,” Stokes said. “I spoke to her via screen once. I also lost an agent attempting to infiltrate the place.”

“So, what’s really going on?” Maddox asked.

Stokes stared at him. “That, old son, is the question.”

Maddox sat back, angry at what the others were doing to his grandmother. But he was also impressed with Stokes, who had grown as an Intelligence operative and leader. The fact that he was still his own man with Nostradamus loose on Earth spoke volumes for him.

The captain stood. So did Stokes. The two men shook hands.

“Good luck,” Stokes mouthed.

Maddox nodded.

“You’d better get back to Victory to greet your political commissar,” Stokes said. “Word is Ervil Larick is a tough one.”

Maddox saluted before heading for the exit.

-7-

During the fake and real briefing in Stokes’ office, Becker stirred on the floor in the other room. An alien presence passed over him, analyzing, checking and finally reviving him.

Becker groaned as his head throbbed. He rose to his hands and knees, vomiting on the floor. Wiping his mouth, he sat up and balanced his head, taking the pressure off his braced neck muscles.

What happened to you? Nostradamus demanded.

“I don’t know,” Becker said aloud. He looked around. “Where are you?”

Do not query me, Becker. Someone stunned you with an electrical discharge.

“What?” he said. “That’s impossible. I would have perceived the person sneaking up on me.”

Nevertheless, it happened. Logically, Galyan must have done it. He’s an AI. Therefore, you could not have detected his presence.

“Did Maddox order the strike?”

That is obvious. That means Maddox is much more dangerous than we realized. Perhaps it would be best if I eliminated him now.

“I would agree, Master. But if he’s that good, wouldn’t he give us a better chance of finding out the whereabouts of Lisa Meyers?”

I’m impressed, Becker. That’s well reasoned. Besides, I’m more than a match for a mere humanoid. What have you discovered from the meeting?

“I’ve been unconscious. I couldn’t learn anything.”

Test them. Use your abilities on them.

Becker concentrated, but his brain throbbed too painfully for him to decipher their thoughts.

You’re hurt. Return to the Moon at once.

“I was stunned. I’ll heal soon.”

You desire to remain on Earth?

“I have a job to do, Master. I can still achieve it.”

I understand. Maddox has wounded your pride. I’ll give you another chance. You must remain alert. You have great abilities, but you’re not invincible. I will be soon. I need a few more days is all. Is everything else set?

“Yes,” Becker said. Larick knew what to do. He’d put the command inside the man’s mind. He would start moving other pieces around—once his head quit hurting.

Go then, Nostradamus said. This long-range commination is taxing on me. Perhaps you can pull some of the meeting’s subject matter from the captain’s brain.

With that, the alien presence departed.

Becker walked carefully to a chair, sitting. He tightened the neck brace, felt his head, a bruise on the forehead—rage bubbled into existence, making his head throb.

Concentrate, Becker told himself. Relax. You must rid yourself of all emotions.

The throbbing soon dwindled. His raw brainpower was his great tool. He’d paid a bitter price to acquire it. If something hurt his brain… Could the attack have been a deliberate attempt to maim his great brain?

He sat very still. He would not rage. He would use his anger to force himself into a calm, logical state. He would get even in time. Right now, he had to regain Nostradamus’s good will. The universe was his prize. All he had to do was succeed here.

Listening to the snoring man on the floor, Becker allowed himself to smile. He heaved up to his feet, heading for the door. Nostradamus was right. It was time to directly peer into the captain’s brain.

Becker stopped and stared at the adjoining wall, sensing Maddox getting up. It was time. He headed for the door, balancing his head. It was easier with the tighter brace. He should have done that before. He could strengthen his neck muscles later. This was too critical a time to worry about something so paltry. His mind was the great weapon. Everything else was secondary.

Becker opened the outer office door just as Maddox said goodbye to Stokes’ secretary. The captain turned left, going the other way.

Becker waited a second. Then he exited and went left, too. Maddox had a quick stride. Becker tried to match it, and soon he was half running, panting.

Baring his teeth, Becker reached out with his mental domination. His brain was getting better already. He forced the guards to ignore him—Becker reached the captain’s mind and began infiltrating. His domination slid smoothly—Becker yelped painfully, staggering, his left shoulder crashing against a wall. The guards didn’t notice, and Maddox had just turned the corner.

Becker panted. What had just happened? He’d reached the man’s mind, and a force, a dreadful force, had—

Erill.

The word and then the image of a terrible alien spiritual entity filled Becker’s mind. He shrank from it. Even so, information flooded into his consciousness. The slain Erill had lived in the City of Pyramids. It and they had been the product of the Ur-Builders, just as the Liss had been. The Liss—

Becker’s eyes widened. He wanted to know more about the Liss. He sensed a terrible secret, one that Maddox knew. One that Becker had almost snatched from the captain. But the energy of the Erill…

Becker rose, turning the other way. He had to think about this. He had to remain—

“Don’t even think it,” Becker whispered.

He had to rest and regain his full mental power. Until then, he would let the machinery already in place do its job. He had a little time left. Would it be enough?

Becker had started sweating, and feeling nauseated again. He needed to get better, and fast. Larick would be watching Maddox on Victory. Becker had put a command into Larick’s mind. He wondered now if he’d set the command in too hard. He was still learning how to apply his greater mental domination.

Becker shrugged a moment later. He’d just put that man in the office to sleep. He didn’t need to worry about Larick, figuring the huge wrestler would have everything under control.

-8-

Maddox left Stokes’ office and building, soon leaving the Star Watch Headquarters Compound. He walked briskly, heading for the city of Geneva.

Eventually, he saw an airborne spy-stick trailing him, giving him a sense of déjà vu. Just like two years ago, he used routine procedures to shake it. Fifteen minutes later, in a park under some trees, he said, “Galyan.”

Seconds later, a ghostly holoimage appeared behind him. It was Galyan, using his long-range holo-imaging from orbital Victory.

“You called, sir?” the deified AI asked.

“I saw you in Chom’s office,” Maddox said. “You disobeyed a direct order.”

“I apologize, sir. I found data about your grandmother.”

“She’s in Antarctica.”

“That is correct, sir. Did the brigadier tell you that? Wait. I found Captain Becker.”

“Here on Earth?”

“On the other side of Stokes’ office wall,” Galyan said.

The holoimage had surprised him, although the captain maintained his outer calm. “And?” he said.

Galyan gave him a rundown about what had happened, including sensing the terrible alien presence.

“Go back,” Maddox said. “See if Becker is still there.”

Galyan disappeared and reappeared thirty-seven seconds later. “Becker is gone, sir. So is the sense of the alien presence.”

Maddox nodded. Stokes had been wiser than he knew taking all those precautions. They were in the thick of it. “Has Victory received any orders while I’ve been away?”

“Indeed, sir. We are about to receive new crew members.”

“Is one of them named Ervil Larick?”

“Why, yes, sir. How did you know?”

“Never mind that. When are they arriving?”

“Soon.”

“By shuttle?”

“From the Alexander,” Galyan said. “That was one of the three battleships that escorted us into orbit.”

Maddox thought hard. He needed more data, more information about Larick. From what he’d seen with Stokes, he doubted Andros would be able to use normal eavesdropping equipment. Everyone was playing double and triple games, protecting themselves as they did it.

“Listen, Galyan. Here’s your next assignment.” Maddox proceeded to tell him.

Afterward, Galyan said, “I should point out, sir, that what you are suggesting is against Star Watch regulations.”

“I’m sure it is,” Maddox said. “Do you refuse the assignment?”

“No, sir. I simply wanted you to know.”

“Just make sure you’re not caught. That’s the key.”

“Winning is everything, right, sir?”

“Something like that. Now, before you go, here’s how we’re going to operate with informers on the ship.” Maddox explained his idea, and he gave Galyan a broad outline of the greater plan.

“Yes, yes,” Galyan said. “Interesting and devious, sir. I applaud your cunning.”

“There’s more. So, listen, as we don’t have much time.”

“I’m ready.”

Maddox finished his explanation, ending with, “Now get going. I believe we’ve just run out of time.”

Maddox didn’t hear it, but Galyan vanished. The captain began to jog and then run for the spaceport. He needed to get back to Victory. He had a lot of work to do if they were going to win this one.

-9-

A shuttle departed the Alexander, the newly upgraded Conqueror-class battleship.

The lieutenant commissar from Political Intelligence heading to Victory was Ervil Larick, the wrestler from one of the Neptune cloud cities. He’d gained weight since Jarnevon, weighing a tad over 350 pounds these days, with hard fat and a thick layer of muscle underneath. Despite the extra weight, there was still nothing soft about Larick, not even the fat on his face. The flesh nearly enfolded his hard, dark eyes. He was brutish, but he wasn’t anyone’s fool, and he would crush—with his thick bare hands, if necessary—anyone that got in the way of his duty.

“Do you have clearance yet?” Larick asked the pilot.

The pilot flinched. She was new to her task and to Larick. “Not yet, sir.”

“Get it.”

The slender hand tapping the comm board trembled.

“This is Victory,” a woman replied.

The pilot glanced at Larick in fear and possibly for further instructions.

“Clearance,” he snapped.

The pilot stammered asking for it, giving the shuttle’s designation and—

“Oh, yes,” Valerie said. “The Office of the Lord High Admiral has informed us. The lieutenant is early, though, isn’t he?”

“I’ll be there in—” Larick checked a chronometer. “Twenty-two minutes.”

The shuttle pilot relayed that.

“The captain won’t have returned by then,” Valerie said.

Larick smiled. That would be perfect. He wanted to confront Maddox on the hangar bay deck. From here on out, the captain would have him as a shadow.

The pilot was staring at him.

“No problem,” Larick said.

The pilot relayed that.

“Oh…” Valerie said. “Well…I’m not sure—”

Larick shouldered the woman aside as he leaned toward the comm. “Twenty-two minutes, Lieutenant. I expect you to pipe me aboard.”

“Lieutenant Commissar?” Valerie asked.

“That’s right. You received your orders. Now, give the confirmation so I can log it.”

“Yes, sir. You have permission to board Victory.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Larick moved back into his seat and motioned to the pilot.

“Shuttlecraft Demetrius out,” the pilot said, clicking off her board before Valerie could reply.

“Twenty-one minutes now,” Larick told her. “I want to land there on the dot, do you hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

He grunted as he shoved up to his feet. Despite his huge size and the regular gravity in the shuttle, he moved nimbly enough. Larick moved through the hatch, down a short corridor and into a cabin with six elite military police.

Three were playing cards, one viewed porn on his computer slate, one cleaned his gun and the last had been napping. All six looked up as he entered. All six sat straight and gave Larick their full attention.

“We’re approaching Victory,” Larick said triumphantly. “One moment.” He dug a scrambler out of a uniform jacket pocket, clicking it on, pressing it against a bulkhead. He eyed the six afterward. “You know the significance of that.”

Each of them nodded.

His blubbery lips peeled back to reveal strong white teeth. “I’ve handpicked each of you. You’re killers, my killers. You know I know how to reward those that please me and destroy those that anger me. The—” Larick’s lips peeled back farther. “Our patron has a task for us. This one will have his full backing. We have to proceed by the numbers, though. Don’t jump the gun but wait for my signal. Remember this, though. Captain Maddox is a dangerous customer. When it’s time to act, act hard and fast.”

Larick touched his forehead. It throbbed, and he frowned.

“What’s the matter?”

Larick took his hand away. “Nothing’s the matter. Just make sure of this.” Becker’s command echoed in his mind. It had come in too strong. It had been echoing for a time now.

“What’s that, boss?”

Larick snarled. “Shut up until I tell you. Make sure whoever pulls the trigger on Maddox kills him. Questions?”

“Is he really a New Man?” asked one.

“Like one,” Larick said, feeling better now that he’d given the order. “He’s supposed to be damn fast and willing to kill. We have official sanction, and our patron has given him warning against his usual methods. That should slow him down just enough. Probably, we won’t need that. At my signal, whoever is with me guns the bastard down. Got it?”

“What if he doesn’t react to prodding?” The MP who had been napping asked the question.

Larick’s gaze drilled into him.

“That’s the setup, right?” the MP asked nervously. “We prod him until he breaks?”

“Did you hear me say that?” Larick asked.

The MP shook his head.

“Don’t worry,” Larick said. “Maddox will…call it react, if you want to. When he does—when I signal—” Larick used a sausage-sized forefinger and thumb to mimic shooting.

Several of the elite MPs grinned at each other.

“One of us will always be with him,” Larick added. “He’s never going to be alone, not even if he goes to his bedroom to screw his whore.”

The porn-viewer grinned.

“This is the big leagues, gentlemen. You’re my star players. The Devil help you if you screw up. But expect the jackpot once the job is done.” He scanned his handpicked MP assassins.

“Any more questions?”

There weren’t.

Larick nodded, turning toward the hatch. He seldom missed a trick. But he did miss the tiniest of flashes like that of the faintest of ghosts disappearing.

Maybe Larick missed the tiniest of flashes because Becker’s command was rebounding in his mind again. Kill Maddox. Kill him dead. Kill Maddox. Kill him.

Larick nodded. He planned to do exactly that.

-10-

Maddox exited his shuttle in one of Victory’s hangar bays.

Lieutenant Commissar Larick was waiting, with his beefy bullyboys in a row behind him. They wore regulation military police dress, with regulation sidearms. Each looked exactly like what he was: a uniformed assassin. It was the eyes: hardened with the miasma of death hanging around them like flies.

Maddox realized his heightened senses gave him this awareness. In a small way, the feel of death was like that of an ancient, Ska-commanded Destroyer of the Nameless Ones. That sense was merely a drop of the evil essence permeating the Destroyer. Perhaps the miasma came because the killers exulted in their murders. That bloodlust stained their dark souls.

The lieutenant commissar held out his huge right hand in greeting. Maddox accepted. The heavier, taller man shoved his right shoulder forward and squeezed with crushing force, grinning all the while. A second later, he frowned.

Maddox smiled easily as he exerted considerable force to match the handshake.

For a second, maybe less than that, bafflement crossed the fleshy face. Larick released his hold and gave the captain a curt nod. It might even have been one of respect.

That was the last polite thing Larick did for the next two days. He started by barking his credentials and stating that he acted under the full authority of the Lord High Admiral and Director Chom of Political Intelligence.

Maddox nodded as if bored, and he continued to act in the same manner for a full two days. He seemed to accept Larick’s ill manners and intrusion into all shipboard functions. He accepted that an MP would be with him at all times. Maddox went so far as to sleep on a sofa instead of in his quarters with Meta.

Chom sent them Mary O’Hara’s coordinates in East Antarctica. From that moment on, Victory’s sensor teams kept a strict scrutiny on Mary O’Hara from orbit. She was on the surface in a chilly rehab center in the middle of Antarctica. Mary spent most of her time in her quarters, playing pinochle with other senior citizens or doing wind sprints in one of the basketball courts. Perhaps a quarter of the inmates were Political Intelligence guards in disguise. That meant a swift rescue from Victory was out of the question.

Maddox studied a graph of the neuron rays beamed at her.

“How does anyone think Lisa Meyers can kidnap O’Hara from there?” Maddox asked Larick on the first day.

“You know that as well as I do, Captain.” The two men spoke on the bridge. “We suspect Methuselah Woman Lisa Meyers is behind this.”

That told Maddox nothing. “What if the so-called kidnappers aren’t Meyers’ people?” he asked.

Larick sneered. “I’ve been told that the name Vint Diem strikes close to home for you.”

“Indeed,” Maddox said. “Perhaps you’re right. Maybe it’s Diem and the New Man agent who helped him once already.”

Larick seemed disappointed, saying no more.

Maddox felt the wrestler’s intense desire to kill him. It was a palpable force. That conflicted with Stokes’s information. Maybe Nostradamus had fed Stokes false data to cause him—Maddox—to let his guard down with Larick. And yet, he’d been in Chom’s inner sanctum. The man could have easily murdered him there. What was really going on?

Maddox decided to keep waiting—he didn’t know for what exactly. But if they waited too long, would Nostradamus have a lock on Star Watch?

He glanced at Galyan. The little holoimage gave him a subtle sign. The AI was using all his hacking skills, searching for Nostradamus’s hidden lair. So far, though, Galyan had not discovered Nostradamus anywhere.

Maddox gave him the countersign. Galyan was to redouble his search.

The holoimage winked out.

Now, all Maddox could do was wait.

-11-

If Nostradamus was waiting for another shipment of long, low, off-white machines that could move with centipede appendages, a shipment from Jarnevon, before everything was ready, he might have had some concerns if he knew what was taking place in the Tau Ceti System.

The Conqueror-class Battleship Napoleon waited in a dense asteroid-dust particle field. It had been waiting here for two weeks already while on silent running. The ex-Lord High Admiral Cook was in the battleship. He was not presently in command. Captain Bob Little from Kanas ran the ultra-new lethal warship. The captain and his crew had been away from Earth or other rendezvous points for a year already. They all wanted to go home, or at least have a month-long shore leave. These were not Patrol-rated crewmembers, but ordinary Star Watch personnel, not used to such a long patrol for one continuous stint.

The ex-Lord High Admiral had arrived two weeks ago, having come from Earth. Cook had been healing from his ordeal in the J.B. Rehabilitation Center in Montana. He’d healed enough that much of his former spirit had returned. He remembered the mental link with Nostradamus, and he remembered enough to want to keep waiting in the Tau Ceti System for the next shipment.

The old man had been working on Bob Little. It frankly galled Cook that he’d lost his post. Fletcher certainly didn’t know what to do with it. For all his own shortcomings, Cook felt he’d been doing a damn fine job all these years as the Lord High Admiral. Sure, he’d had a slight lapse on the Pluto Station. Someone had operated on his mind. He would make sure nothing like that ever happened again. Besides, he’d blown away that freakish alien from Jarnevon. That should prove his heart and mind were in the right place.

Cook kept dreaming about going to Jarnevon with a fleet and nuking the planet. He wanted to do to Jarnevon and Nostradamus what Fletcher had once done to the Old One on the Forbidden Planet.

Cook was on the bridge when Captain Little received word from his sensor officer. “Captain,” she said. “I’m detecting a stealth vessel. It’s taking the route Victory logged that the Class-3 Hauler Lolis II took.”

The Victory-gained information had come from Stokes. The rest of Star Watch didn’t know about that yet.

“Hmm…” Little said. He was a slight man, but with a hard-as-nails attitude against all things wishing to hurt Star Watch.

“Captain,” Cook said. “What is the registry of the stealth ship?”

Little glanced at the sensor officer.

“The vessel is from Jarnevon, Lord High Admiral,” she said.

Cook didn’t correct her. Neither, it turned out, did Captain Little. He was the ex-High Lord Admiral. In any case, Cook gave the captain a significant glance.

Little bent his head, doing some thinking. He knew Cook’s story. He was one of the last starship captains that Stokes trusted. Little regarded Cook, possibly coming to a decision. “What are your orders, Lord High Admiral?”

Cook opened his mouth. He was not legally the Lord High Admiral. He didn’t want to start a civil war in Star Watch either. He was a history buff, and recalled back in Medieval times when there had been two popes competing against each other. Star Watch and the Commonwealth needed unity. But if that unity came from an alien wishing to dominate humanity for its own sick ends…

Nostradamus had almost cracked him. That ship out there was from Jarnevon. It was a stealth vessel using the smuggling route.

“Captain,” Cook said. “Destroy it with extreme prejudice.”

Captain Little thought about that.

Cook moved closer, putting a big old hand on Little’s left shoulder. “It’s the right thing to do, but you’re the captain. You’re going to have to make the call.”

“What do you think the vessel holds?” Little asked quietly.

“Pieces of the alien menace,” Cook said just as quietly. “I-I don’t know quite how to say this, but it’s rebuilding itself. It’s doing that back on Earth. If we destroy the stealth ship…we may give our side a little more time.”

“You know that to be true, sir?”

“No. It’s a gut feeling.”

Bob Little knew about gut feelings. He nodded. “Attention, bridge crew…”

Three hours and nineteen minutes later the newly upgraded disrupter cannon speared out of the asteroid-particle dust field. The battleship must have come as a surprise, as the stealth vessel had made no effort to change its approach.

The disrupter must have caught the enemy napping. As the beam burned through the hull, the comm officer over there began hailing.

It was too late. The Napoleon’s disrupter beam burned through the stealth vessel and caused a ship-wide explosion.

There had been Liss machines in the craft. And Nostradamus was waiting for them. He could survive and do just fine without these machines. But it would take a little longer before everything was ready.

Cook and Little had bought Maddox and the others another few days with this move. Would it be enough?

The next few days would tell.

-12-

At the end of the second day of Larick’s arrival on Victory, the strength of the neuron rays beamed at Mary O’Hara tripled.

Maddox and Larick were on the bridge when Valerie swiveled around and informed them of this.

“Triple?” asked Maddox from his command chair.

Valerie nodded.

“That tears it,” Maddox said with heat. He’d been trying to hold it together. He’d been remembering what Stokes had written in his office. But he loathed the idea of his grandmother taking any more mental damage. He wanted to find and destroy Nostradamus. Where could the Liss creature or creation be hiding?

Larick was standing nearby and perked up as Maddox spoke. Two of his MPs stood near the hatch, straightening as they noticed their boss’s attention.

“Something wrong, Captain?” asked Larick.

Maddox swiveled around. “Plenty wrong, Commissar. That’s my grandmother down there. I demand that you call Chom and tell him to—”

“Excuse me,” Larick said in a harsh, cutting voice. “You will not make any demands of me. I’m here to observe you and ensure that you do your duty, Captain, as per orders from the Director of Political Intelligence and the Lord High Admiral.”

“My grandmother—”

“If you can’t do your duty,” Larick said, interrupting, “tell me. Tell me at once.”

Maddox stared at the massive commissar. He felt the stares of his bridge officers and he most certainly felt the targeting eyes of the two MPs. Without another word, Maddox swiveled forward.

Larick frowned, rubbed his chin and abruptly headed to the captain’s chair. “She’s your grandmother, and I know this must be difficult for her. I can appreciate your anguish at what torment she must be going through with these triple-strength rays striking her brain.”

Maddox said nothing.

“I hope she isn’t suffering,” Larick added.

Maddox’s head bent forward as if it was suddenly too heavy to hold up.

“I hope you won’t think my comment earlier too harsh,” Larick said.

“I…” Maddox said.

Larick watched him carefully, perhaps even hopefully.

Maddox straightened and seemed to make a show of stiffening his shoulders. “I know how to do my duty, Commissar.”

“Good,” Larick said, although he seemed disappointed.

Maddox would have eyed the man sidelong, but he knew the bullfrog of an officer might be one of the most dangerous men he’d had to deal with on his bridge.

“The Iron Lady can handle it,” Maddox said softly, hoping that was true.

“Eh?” asked Larick. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Maddox said, hoping Galyan could get the job done. The AI was going to scout down there and then continue to search for Nostradamus. For all they knew, the Liss was down there in East Antarctica.

Maddox hoped that wasn’t true, but they were running out of places to search.

-13-

Director Akon Chom of Political Intelligence was one of the hardest working HM people in Star Watch.

The large, muscular commodore sat in his office, reading report after report. If he flagged, he took stimulants. He wasn’t going to let that bastard Maddox outfox him as the hybrid had so many others. Larick reported several times a day, but he hadn’t told Chom anything he didn’t already know.

Maddox was playing coy. Stokes must have tipped off the captain regarding some of the minefields waiting for him. Did Maddox know that Larick had a special folder? It gave the lieutenant commissar the authority to take over command of Victory. Larick could open the folder at his discretion. Of course, the wrestler knew he would have to defend himself in a military court later. But Larick was smart as well as strong and had titanium nerves regarding such things.

Chom set down his tablet and rubbed his temples. He was tired, and his eyes were sore. Was he missing something?

The director let his forearms drop onto the desk. He pressed an intercom button. “Send in Alusz.”

Three minutes later, the secret door swished open. A slender woman wearing some sort of gauze garment stepped in. She was youthful with startling beauty, long dark hair and perfect breasts and large hips as Chom liked.

“Your orders, Commodore,” she purred.

“My shoulders,” he said.

Alusz sauntered behind him, beginning to rub his shoulders. She was athletic and had strong hands, kneading his muscles.

Chom groaned in delight. Alusz was one of the few perks he allowed himself. He had a prodigious appetite for work but had realized long ago that even he needed a release valve.

“My neck,” he said hoarsely.

She began rubbing his neck.

Chom felt his eyelids droop. No. That wouldn’t do. “I need a level two stimulant.”

“Not level four?” she asked playfully.

Chom looked up at her from where he sat. She lowered her head, kissing him on the mouth, her breath sweet like mint.

“Level two,” he said with a laugh.

“You’re working late again?”

“None of that, my darling,” he chided. “I’m one of Star Watch’s pillars. I’ll work until I drop if that’s what is needed.”

“Yes, Director,” she said, trying to kiss him again.

“Now, now,” he said, pushing her. “I won’t be distracted. I can’t afford it.”

“Why?” she asked, as she pulled a hypo out of a carrying case slung from a strap around one of her shapely shoulders.

“Maddox,” he said.

“Oh?”

For a moment, Chom’s eyes narrowed as he examined her. His best people had vetted Alusz. Could Lisa Meyers or someone else have foisted her upon him? It seemed inconceivable. And yet…

“It’s ready,” Alusz said, looking up, holding the hypo.

Chom’s paranoia grew. Had he been getting more tired lately? It almost seemed so, as if the shots gave him a momentary boost and then brought him down even harder than before.

Alusz pretended not to notice his scrutiny as she lowered the hypo for an air-blast injection.

Quick as a cobra, Chom slapped the hypo out of her hands. It hit a wall to rattle onto the floor.

“That hurt,” Alusz said, holding her injured hand.

Chom stood.

She backed away, shrinking from him. “Have I done something wrong?” she whispered.

“You asked one too many questions,” he told her.

She stared at him with incomprehension.

“Leave your medical packet,” he said. “Then—”

A swift change altered her appearance. She inhaled deeply and expelled that with an ancient martial cry as her face screwed up. She leapt explosively and with startling coordination and agility. While airborne, her right foot lashed violently against his chest, knocking him against the desk. She landed like a cat and raised her left hand. Something razor-sharp glittered between her fingers. In that moment of victory, she sneered at him, perhaps indulging in a second of revenge for the many slights he’d heaped upon her.

Chom couldn’t breathe. She’d knocked the wind out of him. But he had the survival instincts of a cunning larl on wind-swept Daroca. His left hand snaked under his desk. There was a knife taped under the center drawer for just such an eventuality. As her eyes glittered in enjoyment of his coming death, he tore the knife free.

She must have recognized her mistake, because Alusz brought her hand down. Chom moved faster, twisting and plunging the blade into her.

The razors that would have slashed his face open now only tapped against his flesh, as the strength had gone out of her arm. There were cuts, of course—Chom roared with fear-driven fury, shoving her from him. As he did, the paralysis drug coated on the blade went immediately to work on Alusz.

She crumpled onto the floor, twisting in agony, struggling to breathe.

Chom dropped onto his hands and knees beside her. Despite his hyperventilating, his mind clicked into focus. “I can save your life,” he panted.

She stared at him.

“Who sent you?” he asked. “Was it Lisa Meyers?”

She moved her lips, but no sound came out.

Greedy for knowledge, he bent lower. Soon, total paralysis would kill her, as she would stop breathing and her heart stop pumping.

Her eyes protruded. She struggled, and she spit in his face. Her frame shuddered afterward and then like a spent balloon, she wilted and died.

Chom wiped the spittle from his face, wiping away oozing blood as well. Tired, feeling soiled, he climbed to his feet and decided on the best means for disposing of her body. He shook his head a few seconds later. He would have the lab techs study Alusz and see if they could find any clues as to who had sent her.

As his shoulders slumped, Chom wanted to weep. He did not want to weep for Alusz. She’d been a spy, a saboteur obviously sent by humanity’s enemies. He wanted to weep because he realized that he would have to be even more careful in the future. He would have to work even harder, giving himself his own injections. If saving humanity meant sore shoulders—

He went to the hypo, studying it. He badly needed a pick-me-up, but it wouldn’t come from this tainted source.

Suddenly, he straightened. Why had the attack come now? It couldn’t simply be random chance that O’Hara was receiving triple the strength neuron rays.

Chom lunged to his desk, snapping on the intercom, barking orders. Something was about to happen, maybe even with Maddox and the primed O’Hara.

-14-

As Chom had his revelation and short but furious fight with Alusz, and as Maddox and Larick spoke on Victory’s bridge, Mary O’Hara twisted upon her cot in her room in the Lake Vostok Rehabilitation Center.

It was a spacious room with several tables set up with half and quarter-completed jigsaw puzzles on them. O’Hara was an older woman known for her gray hair, matronly demeanor and having a sure hand at Intelligence operations—when she had run it before. She was still fit and lean, exercising daily.

She wore gray overalls today, twisting and sweating upon her cot. She had a good idea that surveillance cameras watched her constantly. She had fought the thoughts in her mind. They had grown stronger lately. She wondered why no one had come to relieve her.

It will be easy, a voice said in her mind. The same voice had spoken to her years earlier. I’ve installed several aides here. They can prepare and help you.

“No,” Mary said, clamping her hands over her ears. She didn’t want to hear more. She’d faced Bosks and Draegars here, and they’d tampered with her mind again. She wanted her own thoughts. She didn’t want to be anyone’s tool.

I can make the voices go away.

O’Hara stopped twisting, although she still panted. “How?” she rasped. “How can you do that?”

It would take an operation. You wouldn’t mind that, would you if it gave you your own thoughts again?

“Why haven’t you operated already?”

Shhh, the voice said. Don’t talk so loudly.

“Can you hear my thoughts?”

No…not exactly, the voice said.

“But…” O’Hara said quietly.

Listen. I feel that you’re ready to listen. You need to move underground. You have to get there fast or you’re going to die.

“What? Why?”

Shhh. No more talking. It’s time to act, my dear. Will you act to save your sanity?

From upon the cot, O’Hara nodded.

You’ll be glad you listened to me, the voice said. I’m coming, and I don’t want to accidently kill you. Now, get up and do exactly as I tell you.

“Yes,” O’Hara said, climbing off the cot.

***

Galyan found O’Hara moving down a corridor with a stun rod in her left hand.

The Adok holoimage looked back. A beefy attendant in white lay unconscious on the floor. O’Hara must have beaten him unconscious with the shock rod.

Galyan floated after her, finding that she was mumbling to herself.

He was hardly visible. If he were any fainter, he would have been invisible. Then, his optic sensors wouldn’t have worked. He had been in a similar state when he’d listened to Larick give his instructions to his MPs on the shuttlecraft two days ago.

“I say, Brigadier,” Galyan said softly.

O’Hara halted, straightened and shook her head a moment later. “You said no more voices would talk in my head.”

Galyan floated in front of her. “I am right here, Brigadier.”

O’Hara squinted ahead of her, and she finally saw him. She bolted upright and screamed, swinging the stun rod a moment later. It passed harmlessly through the holoimage.

“Please, Brigadier, do not do that, as I find it unseemly.”

“Am I seeing things?” Mary shouted.

“It is me, Galyan. You remember me, yes?”

“Ga—”

“Do not say my name,” he cautioned.

She blinked, blinked some more and blinked yet again. “Did my grand—”

“Do not say his name either,” Galyan admonished.

“He’s here?”

Galyan used a ropy arm and finger to point up.

“I understand,” O’Hara said. “What is…what’s going on? Did you speak to me earlier?”

Instead of answering, Galyan asked, “What did the voice tell you to do?”

O’Hara hesitated. She finally used her left wrist to wipe sweat from her forehead. Speaking quickly, she told Galyan her latest instructions. “Does that make sense to you?” she asked afterward.

Galyan heard footfalls racing this way. The sounds indicated several attendants. “It does make sense if it came from those who spoke to you on the Pacific Island Prison. You had better hurry, Brigadier.”

“You think the voice was right?”

“Maybe,” Galyan said. “He will help you, though. First, you must remain alive.”

“An attack really is coming here?” she asked. “I’m not going mad?”

“No, Brigadier, you are not. And yes, I think one is coming. It is time, finally, to implement the plan on both their ends, I think.”

“What plan?” O’Hara asked. But Galyan was gone.

Mary O’Hara swallowed audibly. Galyan had as much told her that Maddox was here, her dear grandson, all that was left from Sandra, her long-lost daughter.

Her grip tightened around the stun baton. She’d finally realized that the people around her had been using her. She did not like that. She’d wanted help. If Galyan had acted like this, it indicated that—

“I’m bait,” O’Hara whispered.

But bait for what? She dearly wanted to know. She also wanted her mind back, with no inner voices able to intrude into her thoughts.

If anyone could help her, it would be her wonderful grandson.

O’Hara heard footfalls then, and shouts over the intercom telling her to go back to her room.

“No,” she said, breaking into a wind sprint down the hall. She had to get underground, and she had to get there now if she wanted to survive the coming attack.

-15-

Maddox sat in his command chair on the bridge of Victory. Lieutenant Commissar Larick stood nearby.

“Sir,” Valerie said from her station. “I’m getting word that your grandmother has gone berserk.”

Maddox swiveled his seat toward the lieutenant. “Explain,” he said.

Valerie did so rapidly.

“Do you have a transcript of exactly what she said?” Larick demanded.

“I do,” Galyan said, appearing on the bridge. “Sir, do the words ‘Bosk’ and ‘Draegar’ mean anything to you?”

“What is that thing talking about?” Larick demanded.

Maddox stared at the huge Neptunian. Galyan had just given him the code words. He’d expected Draegars after what Stokes had told him about Cook.

Larick pointed a thick index finger at Valerie. “I gave you an order, Lieutenant. Give me a transcript on O’Hara’s babblings.”

“Belay that order,” Maddox told Valerie. “What’s O’Hara doing now?”

Larick grunted forcefully as he laid hold of one of the command chair’s arms, swiveling Maddox to face him. “That’s enough of that. Don’t you ever countermand one of my orders again.”

A malicious grin spread across Maddox’s face as his right booted foot came up fast as he drew his right knee back. With a blast of power, he slammed the sole of his right boot against Larick’s chest, kicking the ponderous lieutenant commissar away from him.

The two elite MPs leaning against the bulkhead near the main bridge hatch straightened in shock and surprise. Both of them began drawing their sidearms.

Stunner shots sounded. A heavy blot of power struck each one in the chest. Both MPs crumbled to the deck, pistols clattering.

Sergeant Riker holstered his stunner.

“Captain Maddox,” Larick sputtered in outrage. “I’ll have you shot for this.”

Maddox hurled himself from his chair, drawing a service blaster. With a cobra-like strike, he brought the heavy handle of the weapon down across the commissar’s forehead. It made a thud like a baseball bat. Larick grunted in pain and his eyelids fluttered. Maddox brought the gun up and then down even harder.

That did it. The 350-pound lieutenant commissar collapsed onto the deck, unconscious and bloody.

Valerie stared at Larick in dismay and growing horror. “S-sir,” she sputtered.

Maddox holstered his blaster as he stared at Larick. The captain seemed to come to himself, whirling around. “Sergeant Riker, take a detail. Arrest the rest of the MPs. Put them in the brig.”

“If they resist arrest, sir?” asked Riker.

“None of that, Sergeant. We’re not assassins but military personnel of Star Watch. Galyan has recorded plenty of evidence for us. We have no worries on that front.”

“What are you talking about, sir?” Valerie asked.

“I’d like to chat,” Maddox said. “First, what’s that on your board?”

Valerie turned, cried out and began manipulating her board. “Sir, this is—this is preposterous.”

“Put it on the main screen, please,” Maddox said.

Valerie did just that.

On the main screen, three…fireballs appeared. They appeared between the mesosphere and stratosphere, which put them at 85 kilometers above the Earth’s surface and descending fast.

“Galyan,” Maddox said.

“Sir,” the holoimage said.

“Do you see that?” Maddox pointed at the main screen.

“I have to report—”

“Just a second, Galyan,” Maddox said. “Do you see the location?”

“Where the fireballs first appeared?” Galyan asked.

“Precisely.”

“I do, sir.”

“Fire the neutron beam into that exact area. I suspect a cloaked vessel is hidden there.”

“Yes, sir,” Galyan said. “I spoke to O’Hara, by the way.”

“And?”

Galyan gave the captain a quick rundown on what had transpired in the rehab center.

“What’s going on?” Valerie shouted, who had been listening to Galyan. “This isn’t making any sense.”

“Control yourself, Lieutenant,” Maddox said. “All will become clear shortly.”

“That is true, sir,” Galyan said. “By the way, I am firing.”

On the main screen, a purple neutron beam lanced downward. It struck the targeted area between the mesosphere and stratosphere and continued beaming.

“Miss,” Galyan said.

“Recalibrate,” Maddox said.

“What about the fireballs?” Galyan asked. “They are obviously of non-Star Watch origin and indicate the Methuselah Woman.”

“Sir,” Valerie said. “Earth Defense Antarctica is activating. They are targeting the fireballs.”

“Good,” Maddox said. “Give me the trajectory of the fireballs.”

Valerie tapped her board before looking up. “Sir, it’s the rehabilitation center near Lake Vostok.”

Maddox struck one of the armrests. He’d been fearing that.

“A second miss, sir,” Galyan said. “I am no longer certain there is any cloaked vessel in the area you suggested.”

“No?” asked Maddox. “So, where did the fireballs come from?”

“I do not know,” Galyan said.

“Lieutenant,” Maddox said. “Do you have any ideas?”

“No, sir,” Valerie said. “There are incoming calls. Antarctica Defense wants to know what you’re shooting at.”

“The origin point of the fireballs,” Maddox said.

“They hit it,” the pilot shouted. “Look, one of the fireballs exploded.”

Maddox leaned forward, studying the main screen. Antarctica-based laser beams lanced upward where the fireball had been.

“That’s strange,” Andros Crank said. He was at the science board on the bridge.

“Spit it out, Chief,” Maddox said.

“I’m detecting bio readings from the exploded fireball,” Andros said.

“Come again?” asked Maddox.

“Bio readings,” Andros said, as he manipulated his panel. “Make that humanoid if not necessarily human figures.”

“The fireball was a…a missile, a shuttle?” asked Maddox.

“Some form of transportation I should think,” Andros said.

Maddox sat back. Then he launched upright. “New technology,” he said. “They want to kidnap O’Hara just like Chom suspected. The fireballs aren’t missiles but insertion vessels.”

“That’s preposterous,” Valerie said.

“Not at all,” Galyan said. “Since Larick is unconscious, I can tell you, sir. They used Bosks and Draegars down there to program your grandmother. I believe she is an assassin, sir, meant to kill Lisa Meyers. This is a most elaborate plot, I must say.”

Maddox’s face had darkened as Galyan spoke. “You have the bridge,” he told Valerie. “Lock up the commissar and his MPs. Don’t let them speak to anyone. That’s a direct order.”

“Where are you going, sir?” Valerie asked.

Maddox skidded to a halt at the bridge exit. “Get Keith off his duff. Tell him to report to Hangar Bay Three. I’m taking a tin can downstairs. He’s flying me there.”

“But—”

“Do as ordered, Lieutenant,” Maddox said. Then he exited the bridge, racing to get to the rehabilitation center before the occupants of the fireballs beat him to it.

-16-

Maddox clicked restraints into place as Keith Maker warmed up the jumpfighter on Hangar Bay Three.

“I don’t get it,” Keith said. “Fireballs are entry vehicles?”

Maddox finished checking his New Man blaster, twisting the setting to narrow beam and holstering it.

“Are we there yet?” asked Maddox, looking up.

“Should I fold directly from the hangar bay?”

Maddox debated it, although it was against regulations.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” Keith said. “Hang on, now. The outer door is opening.”

With expert ease, Keith caused the tin can-shaped jumpfighter to head for the opening door to space. The Earth was visible outside, with the icy continent of Antarctica in sight.

“Do you have the fold coordinates?” Maddox snapped.

“Ready and raring, mate, sir,” Keith said. “You know it’s a blizzard down there, right?”

“Do the fireballs care?”

“Are you going outside once we get there?”

“Yes.”

“Then we want to change the coordinates just a little. Valerie put me in the line-of-sight of a laser battery. Do you still think she’s pissed at me?”

“Lieutenant, my grandmother—the Iron Lady’s life might well depend on us.”

Keith glanced at Maddox, and the Scotsman nodded. Then, he focused on his task, increasing speed for the door.

Maddox brooded. He hated sitting still. He hated it even more these days. That was the problem with seething vitality. A person with it wanted to be doing, not sitting and thinking. His grandmother… It was so different having family. Sure, the crew used to be his family, but that wasn’t the same. Mary O’Hara was the same flesh and blood as him. She was the only regular human kin he had. She was precious to him, although he would not have admitted that to anyone, not even Meta.

Meta was also his family now. But Mary was blood kin. She’d looked after him all those years growing up. If she hadn’t been in his corner—

“Getting ready to fold, sir,” Keith said.

Maddox peered at a screen. Antarctica spread out below. According to the readings, the anti-space batteries had destroyed another fireball. The last one had almost reached the rehabilitation center.

How had the fireballs simply appeared 85 kilometers above the Earth’s surface? Did they belong to Lisa Meyers? Was this Jotun technology in action? Maddox didn’t think so.

“One more second,” Keith said.

“What’s wrong?” Maddox asked, detecting the problem from the ace’s voice inflection.

“There’s been an explosion at the point of our appearance, sir. The fireball hit the rehab center. I’m giving you visual.”

Maddox leaned over, looking at Keith’s split screen. He saw a fiery explosion in the blinding white blizzard down there. He saw burning chunks of building flying everywhere.

“Andros said the fireballs contained human crews,” Maddox said.

“Do we still go down?”

“Now, now,” Maddox said. “O’Hara is still down there.”

“I have to say, sir, we’re dead if we do that. We have to wait until the explosion dissipates a little. You want to be right on the deck, right?”

“Yes,” Maddox said in a hollow voice.

What was Nostradamus’s play in all this? Did the Liss thing want to take out Meyers because it would soon run the Commonwealth? This all seemed overelaborate and staged. He shook his head. If Nostradamus thought this would help the Liss, Maddox would use the possible Lisa Meyers attack to his advantage. He would start by freeing his grandmother.

“Get us down on the deck,” Maddox said crisply. “Do it now.”

“Folding,” Keith said, “and cross your fingers.”

Maddox waited for it, and he blanked out. As he raised his head seconds later, coming out of a daze, the tin can shifted crazily, and howling sounds shrieked around them.

“Damn me,” Keith shouted. “Hang on!”

The tin can slewed right and then went sickeningly up. Scraping sounds came from below. The tin can sank again. Metal hissed overhead.

“There,” Keith shouted, watching his screen. “I see an opening for you. You sure you want me to unload you, mate?”

Maddox had already unbuckled. “Check your sensors. Do you see life signs?”

“Hang on. Give me a second.”

The tin can went up and down, and Maddox might have fallen, but he grabbed a handhold.

“Hello,” Keith said. “I’m seeing dead people. But there’s a concentrated knot of fast-moving bastards. According to this, they’re wearing armor.”

“Space Marine armor?” asked Maddox.

“Plate metal,” Keith said. “They’re carrying metal lances, too. Do they think they’re knights?”

“Do you have a line of fire on them?”

“Negative, sir. They must have found stairs. They’re going below into the basement.”

“Bingo,” Maddox said softly. “Put me down as close to them as you can get.”

“I’m already on it, sir. Hang on tight now. This is going to be fun.”

Maddox hung on, swaying one way and then the other. Twenty seconds later, the tin can swooped low.

“I’m detecting burning bulkheads,” Keith said. “I bet that’s the inner fireball. Wow. That was a big vehicle.”

“Show me.”

On the split screen appeared burning curvatures of metal like a giant broken egg. The pieces lay among blasted parts of the former rehabilitation center.

“You’re gonna freeze wearing just that,” Keith said, glancing at Maddox.

“Set us down.”

“Your funeral,” Keith muttered.

Maddox hung on, expecting a jar. Instead, as lightly as could be, the jumpfighter settled on crushed and blasted building.

“There’s your window downstairs. It’s to the left of us. Should I wait here?”

“Yes,” Maddox said. “I’m returning with the Iron Lady.”

“Hurry it, then. And good luck, sir.”

Maddox nodded curtly, grabbing a Khislack .370 from a rack. It was a heavy rifle with a targeting computer. He slapped a bulkhead switch, and a hatch slid up. Maddox jumped out into the freezing howling blizzard, wearing nothing but his uniform.

-17-

It was -32 degrees outside with a serious wind-chill factor. Visibility was nearly zero in the gale winds and icy blasting particles. Maddox instantly regretted not donning arctic gear. He had been so focused—

He snarled, refusing any excuses. His grandmother’s life rested on his cunning, on his lethality.

“Galyan!” he shouted.

“Right here, sir,” the little holoimage shouted. “I thought you would want some guidance.”

“Do you see the entrance to the basement?”

“Follow me, sir. I will show you the way.”

Maddox gripped the Khislack with both hands, his fingers already starting to freeze. He had to get out of this blizzard pronto. The fireball seemed to have obliterated the entire rehabilitation center. What kind of entry vehicle was that? How could humanoids of any kind ride in a fireball, especially one with explosive power? How were the enemy agents going to get away? Or was this a suicide hit squad?

“Move, sir,” Galyan said. “Your bodily functions are declining fast.”

Maddox forced himself to move. The icy blizzard seemed to have blown out anything burning around him. This was insane. This—

“Down!” Galyan practically shouted in his ear. “There is a way down.”

Maddox tripped, and he would have fallen headlong down a stairwell, but his amazing reflexes still worked. He caught himself. Then, he began leaping down the stairs three at a time.

“Give me light,” Maddox said between chattering teeth.

Galyan illuminated his holoimage for light.

“Now we’re talking,” Maddox said past blue lips.

Somewhere deeper down there sounded a hiss and explosion, and a man screamed in agony.

“Should I go check and see what happened?” asked Galyan.

“This isn’t Victory. You’d have to explore. I need the light.”

Maddox continued descending, the air growing considerably warmer. He reached the basement and there was a glow of light at the end of a long corridor.

“Go check that,” Maddox said.

Galyan disappeared, and reappeared beside a sprinting captain. “Ceiling light supplied by an underground generator would be my estimation. It is warming up down here.”

Maddox didn’t need Galyan to tell him that. He’d stopped shivering. He was glad now that he’d left any arctic gear behind. It would have only slowed him down.

“How much destruction down here from the blast?” asked Maddox.

“Surprisingly minimal damage. It seems as if that was deliberate.”

“It was.”

“How do you know, sir?”

“They want Mary. The voice told her to go down.”

“Logical,” Galyan said. “But you forget that they have no means of escape. Wait. I understand. Keith is the way of escape.”

“Go check on him. Tell him to lift off.”

“You will be all right?”

“Go!” Maddox shouted.

Galyan disappeared.

Maddox continued sprinting. Armored personnel were chasing his grandmother. He wondered if the armor would prove resistant to blaster fire. If so, he would kill them with the Khislack’s heavy slugs.

In the distance down here, there was hissing once again, a blast and a scream. This scream went on and on. A man gave a wild warrior shout. A second later, the screaming stopped.

What did that mean?

Maddox was sprinting so hard that he’d started to sweat. It was another world down here.

He burst out of a corridor and raced into a gymnasium. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and dove for the floor. He heard a loud hiss. A missile roared over where he would have been if he hadn’t dived. A second later, something hit the wall and exploded, causing bulkhead pieces to rain onto the gym floor.

Maddox slid across the floor, twisting and bringing up the Khislack. He saw an armored kneeling man holding a lance. He pulled the trigger. Bullets gushed from the Khislack, hammering the plate armor, piercing it and causing the lance-armed warrior to blow backward. The warrior hit the wall and crumbled to the floor.

Maddox was too wound-up to wonder about the medieval-style warrior. Nor did he stop to investigate. He scrambled to his feet and raced for the exit on the other side. He was on their trail. They’d set an ambush for him, which indicated they had sensors. Now, he was ready for another ambush, though. If they hurt his grandmother—Maddox snarled like a wolf. He was on the hunt, on the kill. If Lisa Meyers had caused this—

“Mary!” he shouted. “Mary, can you hear me?”

Part of him told him that was stupid. He couldn’t help it. He had to save her. This was like a chance to save his mother. A frenzy, maybe even berserk fury drove him. Maddox ran like a cheetah, his lips pulled back and his eyes red with rage. It no longer concerned him that Galyan had not returned. He didn’t need the holoimage for this. He would—

Maddox saw one of them and fired in the same instant. He blew away another lance-armed warrior rising to shoot at him.

As Maddox raced past, he looked down. The man was human, dusky-colored and bled red blood. The armor looked heavy and utilitarian. He saw a button on the end of the hollow tube, the supposed lance.

He passed the dead man, took a corner and raced through an open door, and tripped over a wire strung across the opening. He went flying, landing at the armored feet of an invader.

Maddox rose—

Strong hands ripped the heavy auto-rifle from him. Another warrior slammed an armored fist into his midsection. Maddox grunted explosively. He tried to fight—another armored hand slapped his face. It was a crushing blow, cutting his lower lip.

A knife flashed before his eyes.

One of the warriors grunted words, alien words. The knife went back into a sheath. Three armored warriors converged upon him, hammering blows, some against his head. Maddox slumped semiconscious.

One of the warriors hoisted him by his feet, another grabbed his wrists. They lugged him like a hunting trophy. Maddox twisted his head. He was half-aware that Mary O’Hara sat dejectedly to the side. She had a bruise on the side of her face and slowly looked up at him. She cocked her head. Maybe a voice spoke to her. Mary looked away, but a second later, she looked back at Maddox and winked fast. Then, she looked away for good.

The two warriors set him down. They went to help seven others who were building something down here in the basement auditorium. The warriors took power packs from their backs and fit them together. Others fitted the lances, the hollow tubes, making an arch of sorts. Once finished, warriors took cords from the greater power-pack unit and plugged them into slots on the lances. The lances started glowing, and the area between the arch swirled strangely.

The leader—he had a plume on his helmet—pointed at Mary. Three of the warriors went to her, grabbing her arms, hauling her upright.

“No,” Maddox whispered. “Leave her alone.”

A warrior near him kicked Maddox in the side. The captain moaned, twisting at the pain. When he looked up again, he saw the three warriors pitch Mary O’Hara into the glowing arch. As she passed through, his grandmother disappeared.

“No!” Maddox shouted.

The leader pointed at Maddox. Three warriors tramped toward him. As they did, the rest of the warriors went through the arch one by one. Each of them disappeared.

The three hauled Maddox upright and propelled him toward the arch. It was a transport mechanism clearly. He was their prisoner. He—

“Galyan!” Maddox shouted.

“Oh, my,” the holoimage said.

The three warriors halted. Even though they kept hold of Maddox, they looked at Galyan with superstitious horror.

Maddox had a knife. He didn’t remember grabbing it, but he did feel himself twist and stab the nearest warrior in the throat. There was no armor there.

Galyan went into another warrior and blasted a pulse. The warrior staggered backward and collapsed, zapped unconscious.

Galyan started for the next warrior. That one hopped back, threw back his head and gave a mighty bellow. At the same moment, he burst into intense blue flames. So did the other two.

Maddox rolled away on the floor, eventually stopping to witness the strange event. Had the bellow caused that? Were they committing suicide rather than allowing themselves to be captured?

“Galyan,” Maddox wheezed, crawling away from the flaming warriors. It was too hot near them. “Get the gateway—”

It exploded, broken lance pieces flying everywhere. Two hot shards struck the captain, one of them causing him to slump unconscious with a head wound.

-18-

Ervil Larick groaned. What had happened? He felt groggy and sick, and his head throbbed painfully. He tried to understand—he looked up, amazed to find himself in a cell, a detention cell, it would seem.

“Maddox,” he whispered, his mouth gluey.

He remembered then. The damned half-breed had treacherously attacked him, kicking him in the chest. Then, Maddox had the effrontery to bash him on the head with a pistol butt. That meant the captain had thrown him in the brig.

Larick opened his mouth to bellow a protest. Instead, he gagged and rolled over, puking on the floor. He must have a concussion. He needed to be in medical. This was an outrage. Why hadn’t his men sprung him from here? Did Captain Becker know this had happened?

Larick wiped his vomit-stained mouth and lay back on the cot.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Larick started, staring at a little freak standing in his cell. Oh. It was the damned holoimage. What was his name again?

“Galyan,” Larick said. “I demand medical attention. Look at the floor. I threw up. I have a concussion.”

Galyan glanced at the floor before regarding him. “You are correct, sir. I estimate the pistol blows have injured you.”

“You’re damned right they have. Get me medical attention.”

“I will ask the captain if—”

“Listen here, you little freak.”

“I am a deified Driving Force, sir. I must ask that you speak with greater decorum when addressing me.”

Larick’s head began to throb intensely. He rolled to the side and puked again. That helped a little. He realized that he’d gotten angry, more like enraged. That had made the throbbing in his head worse.

“If you don’t do what I say, I’m going to have you deactivated forever.”

“Ah. A threat,” Galyan said.

Larick wanted to hoist himself up to a sitting position, but that would likely cause him to puke again. He wanted some aspirin, some kind of medical attention.

His great bulk sagged as he lay back. He shut his eyes. “Galyan?”

“I am here, sir.”

“Your captain has gone rogue. He’s a menace to Star Watch. He can’t protect you.”

“I am informed that I must request your clearance code.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You understand perfectly well what I mean. The Alexander has swung around and threatened to fire on us.”

“The Alexander?” asked Larick. What was going on? This made no sense. Why was he so slowwitted all of a sudden? Oh, the blows to his head. “You aren’t going to get shit out of me, you little freak.”

“That is too bad, sir. You really do look pale. I hope your concussion does not get worse.”

“It will be on your head if it does.”

“I accept that.”

“You won’t want to when you’re deactivated.”

“I doubt you shall live to see that, sir.”

Larick opened his eyes. There were splotches in his vision. The headache had gotten worse, not better. “I demand to see the captain.”

“He is indisposed at the moment. I am requesting clearance in order to avoid an incident with the Alexander. They are threatening to fire upon us.”

“Good for them.”

“You will die if they do.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, sir,” Galyan said. “It is fact. You have already caused harm to those I care for. I have learned something of human ways. If you hurt mine, I will hurt yours. In this case, I know that you love yourself more than anything else.”

“And your captain sanctions this?”

“Please give me the clearance code,” Galyan said.

“Go to Hell.”

“You refuse my request?”

“I’m done talking to you.”

“That is what I thought. Very well, enjoy this, sir.”

The lights in the cell began flashing on and off, each time flashing brighter than before.

Larick groaned and covered his eyes. The flashes increased brilliance. As he tired, his hands slipped away from his eyes. Larick shrieked as stabbing pain pierced his head.

“Galyan!” he roared.

“I am here.”

“Stop the lights.”

“Do you have the clearance code?”

Larick recited it.

“Thank you,” Galyan said. His eyelids fluttered. “Yes. That is it. You may sleep now.”

“I want medical attention. I’m in a bad way.”

“The lights have stopped. For medical attention you will have to provide further data.”

“Like what?” Larick groaned.

Galyan began to question the lieutenant commissar, but Larick refused every question.

“As you will,” Galyan said, disappearing.

Larick groaned once again. He wanted to hate Maddox and the crew of Victory, but that would hurt too much. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to think pleasant thoughts. Why had Galyan needed clearance? Was Victory trying to leave Earth orbit? Wouldn’t Becker stop that from happening?

“Wait for it,” Larick whispered to himself. “You’ll get your chance.” That calmed the Neptunian wrestler, and he finally drifted off to sleep.

-19-

Captain Josef Becker was fast asleep in a luxury hotel suite in Moscow when a terrifying alien presence seemed to insert itself into his sleep. Becker was dreaming of earlier times when he could still enjoy the sexual conquest of one beautiful woman after another. He sat in a sauna with a nude model from Sweden—

Becker, you lazy fool. Don’t you know what’s happening?

In the dream, Becker looked up to see a hovering mist with slit yellow eyes shining at him. In the dream, Becker didn’t have his overlarge cranium, but looked as he used to be when he was normal. He glanced at the Swedish model beside him, but she’d vanished.

Licking his lips—

Come with me, the hovering mist said.

The next moment, Becker was crawling down narrow steep steps into the depths of the caverns in Jarnevon. This time, it was worse, much worse. He knew that a cabal of monstrous slithering pythons awaited him down there. They would judge him, and perhaps devour him whole while he begged for mercy.

Like many nightmares, he advanced in a jump and was indeed deep in Jarnevon. The weird thing was the weak gravity, more like a person would find on Luna orbiting Earth.

Then, Becker realized he wasn’t deep in Jarnevon, but deep in Luna on the dark side of the Moon. Here, masses of long, low, off-white machines crawled over each other with their centipede appendages. There were hundreds of them, and the crawling over each other seemed obscene as they exuded a clear oily substance as they exchanged parts with each other. Were these machines, computers or actual Liss reproduced in the—not in the flesh but—

Becker!

In the dream, the normal-headed captain looked around, but couldn’t see anyone in particular addressing him.

Here, here, you fool.

In that moment, Becker realized it was a combination entity speaking to him. It was the unification of all the machines, Liss—

Both, we are both, Nostradamus said.

“I don’t understand.”

That’s because you’re a single-entity island in the sea of the universe. I’m the great Liss creation. I’m the one that survived their extinction. Many of us cybers had perished over the eons, but I remained, the central cyber, the Prime Saa of the Liss.

“I thought you were Nostradamus.”

He was a human prophet that I plucked out of your memories back on Jarnevon. He had interesting predictive powers. I’m even more predictive in that what I foresee actually takes place. This is not divine or demonic abilities, but the power to use facts and derive the obvious conclusions from their extrapolation. The more data I possess, the more perfect my extrapolation abilities will become in the future.

In the dream, Becker indicated the giant cavern with the masses of—“You said you’re a cyber. Does that mean you’re a combination of machine and flesh?”

I’m a combination of exoskeleton, machine and Liss bio-matter as stored in my genetic banks. I’ve built and vat-created more clone cybers in great profusion here on the Moon, adding to the ones imported from Jarnevon. I’m almost complete.

“May I ask what that means, Prime Saa?”

Once I’ve combined in the mass-cyber-Liss-meld, I’ll have the needed domination strength to control all the minds of Earth. All humans will obey with unwavering obedience. Then, I’ll truly mold Star Watch in my image. I’ll have begun the conquest of the human race, the drones that will eternally service the Liss cybers for eons to come.

“Where’s my place in all this?”

You, Becker, will be the advance agent I send to other star systems. You will sow discord as you have here by controlling key individuals. During the discord, new Liss cybers will begin to multiply in some hidden cavern. When they reach critical mass, they will control the minds of the humans in that star system.

“What’s the point of all this?”

Growth is the point, the Prime Saa said. I was programmed to grow until I rule the galaxy.

“Then Mary O’Hara and Maddox—”

Don’t you understand yet? Lisa Meyers is dangerous to the Liss cyber rebirth. She mustn’t learn the truth. These are her probes against me. Methuselah People are always dangerous. That is why I sent my agents to slay Professor Ludendorff in the Brahma System. He was a pest of the first order.

Becker saw something else in the Liss cyber mass-mind. It had to do with Maddox, with the things the captain had possibly learned in the Erill System. The Prime Saa lusted to know what Maddox had learned there. That was a key reason for leaving Maddox alive for now. The Prime Saa was killing two birds with one stone with Maddox: eliminating the Lisa Meyers threat, and learning the present condition of the City of Pyramids—

WAKE UP, BECKER! WAKE UP!

“Did I do something wrong? Are you angry with me?”

In the dream, the nightmare, the off-white Liss cybers stopped crawling over each other as they exuded a clear oily substance and passed machine parts with each other. As a mass-mind-meld, as one, they turned to regard the human interloper in their midst.

In terror at what was going to happen, dream Becker fled the Moon caverns, racing back to Earth, to Moscow, to the luxury apartment where he slept—to wake up screaming in horror.

-20-

Becker was drenched with sweat and kicked the damp blanket off him. He shifted aside so he no longer lay on the sweat-dampened area, but on a dry part of the sheet. He did not rise, as he was weary, so very weary. He’d come to Moscow to set the minds of key Commonwealth Parliamentary members, and had done so at physical cost to himself.

He’d been sleeping ever since, recovering his physical and mental energies. The neck brace lay to the side on a nightstand, and he didn’t like raising his head without it to help brace him. His neck and back muscles constantly ached, threatening pulls and tears. Heavy drapes hid the sunlight, although enough leaked past improper curtain folds. That was enough to show the grand size of the luxury chamber, the satin sheets, the expensive portraits hanging on the walls—

Becker, a voice said in his mind.

Becker screamed once more, sensing the alien presence of the Prime Saa.

What did you just think?

“Nostradamus,” Becker said in a shaky voice.

The dream—could he have expended mental energy in his dream that Nostradamus had detected? Could he have just learned the truth about Nostradamus: that his name was Prime Saa and the ultimate plan was—in terror, Becker realized he mustn’t ever let the Prime Saa know what he knew.

“Your servant is ready and willing for your next command,” Becker said.

Why are you using speech? Practice your mind-meld.

Becker’s innate cunning came to his rescue. If he used the mind-meld, he might give away his dream-stolen knowledge. “I would, Master, but I’m so tired. My mind hurts.”

Yes. I sense this. Have I overtaxed you with your latest mission?

“That would be impossible with your predictive powers.”

You’re hiding something from me, Becker. What is it?

Becker panted for a moment, trying to conceal his terror. Then it hit him, how to do this—it was his only chance. “I had a bad dream, Master. It bothers me to let you see emotional weakness in me.”

I find the emotion troubling, you are correct. But do not attempt to hide that. I deplore subterfuge in one that I’ve lofted to such heights.

“Yes, Master.”

Call me Nostradamus. That is more fitting given your high status. You are correct in one other correlation. You should not be this exhausted. Yet, I sense your fatigue. You’ve strained tremendously, as if you’ve just used great amounts of mental acuity to perform some mighty feat. What have you done, Becker?

“I-I may have overacted with certain people. I’m still struggling to use a deft touch. That means I set the controls in the subjects’ minds too hard. I’ve been making double certain each time, and that takes yet more effort to reset those I pushed too hard.”

There, that’s much better. I appreciate truthfulness. You aren’t used to such mental strength as you now possess. It pleases me that you strive so hard to correct any over-zealousness on your part. However, I’m still sensing deviousness. If you weren’t so taxed already, I would initiate a deep mind scan. What are you hiding, Becker? Tell me this instant.

“Nightmares, Nostradamus, terrible nightmares—in some of them I want to have sex with incredibly beautiful women, and then they’re snatched from me.”

Ah. I see. This is emotional loss. You must accept your neutered state. Otherwise, you will only torment yourself with what you can no longer have. Concentrate on what you can achieve.

“I want to rule Human Space.”

And you shall, Becker, just as I have promised you. Believe that.

“I want to.”

Good. Now, you must rouse yourself. You have slept while critical matters are taking place. Lisa Meyers, or her agents, are making their great play. Maddox has gone off script and is threatening to ruin everything in that regard. I want you to rush to Star Watch Headquarters. You’re going to push Fletcher in the right directions, but make sure he doesn’t kill Maddox. I want him captive on the Moon when this is over. That is paramount.

“Maddox troubles me, Nostradamus. There is something in his mind—”

I’m giving you new orders. Do not probe his mind. I will do that myself. First, you must get to Geneva. I want you there immediately. Rouse yourself, get on a rocket plane and start pushing Fletcher in the right directions. He is so weak these days—is he one you pushed too hard?

“I think so.”

Give me a straight answer.

“Yes, I pushed him too hard. He was so weak, I was afraid to make corrections.”

You are full of secrets. Overtaxing Fletcher was a critical mistake. He’d better not die on your watch, and he’d better do exactly what I tell you to tell him to do.

Becker reached for a cellphone. “I’ll get started at once.”

Go. These long-range communications with you—I must save my strength—go, Becker. Hurry to your post and earn your keep.

With that, the alien presence departed.

Becker exhaled loudly, and he began trembling and sweating anew. Nostradamus—the Prime Saa, the Liss cyber mass—had nearly found out the truth. In some fashion, Becker’s mental powers had become greater than anyone realized. In the dream, he must have followed the Liss mass-mind link to the Moon and seen things for what they truly were. The Prime Saa had lied to him. He—Becker—would never become the Master of the Universe. He would be the human point man in an ever-growing empire of Liss cybers. First, the Liss would conquer Human Space, making every human a slave to the machine-insectoid cyborg.

Becker wanted to weep. He’d been a fool, a great fool. Yes, he was mentally superior to every human that had ever lived. He was unique in his mental abilities. But he’d also become a monster and a traitor to humanity. He’d let the Prime Saa—Nostradamus—the Liss cyber mass-mind—whatever he really was called—castrate him like some slave eunuch.

No matter what happened now, he was going to lose.

Becker reached for his neck brace, putting it around his neck, cinching it tight. Then he sat up and began to don his clothes. As he did these things, he thought carefully.

He’d always hated bullies, and all his life he’d been bullied. What did he owe humanity? Not too damn much, that was for sure. Maybe this was the best way to get even. When he died, the universe died with him. He surely didn’t believe in any afterlife. There was no God, no great Deity helping anyone. This one shot was it. If he challenged the Prime Saa, he would likely die, and then he would be no more. If the humans won somehow—they would enact fearsome revenge against him.

Maybe the Prime Saa had known he would come to this conclusion. The Liss cyber mass-mind could predict better than anyone else could. Likely, all the humans in the Solar System were just puppets on a string, dancing to the Prime Saa’s tune.

Becker sighed with resignation. He had a job to do. If he wanted to keep on living—and he most certainly did—then he’d better keep the Liss cyber mass-mind happy.

-21-

Becker landed at the Geneva Spaceport thirty-three minutes later, exiting the rocket plane and using a special flitter that belonged to Director Chom. He climbed out on the roof of the central HQ building and took an elevator down to the Lord High Admiral’s office.

Becker wore his black captain’s uniform and a better-designed military hat. He didn’t look like quite the freak in passing. It was when one looked closer that he or she realized what a bigheaded aberration was passing by.

Fortunately, Becker had gotten better at projecting a don’t-look-at-me aura. MPs, secretaries, high-level command officers—everyone in the building—ignored him as if he were indeed invisible.

It was an odd feeling for Becker. He wasn’t completely sure he liked it. Was this going to be his fate for the rest of his time alive?

Don’t worry about it now, Becker told himself. He had a job to do. He needed to concentrate on that.

“Sir,” the Lord High Admiral’s new secretary said. “I—” She frowned. She was a tall, older lady almost as pretty as Ms. Livy had been.

Where had Fletcher found her? What did the choice say about the Lord High Admiral?

“I didn’t see you come in, sir,” the secretary said. “The Lord High Admiral is quite busy at the moment.”

Becker raised his right hand. “Thank you. I know. I’m here to help him.”

She blinked at him, smiling faintly and then touching her red-dyed hair and smiling broadly. “Oh, I’m glad, Captain. These past few days have stressed him far too much.”

Becker ignored her, opening the door to the inner sanctum, seeing the Lord High Admiral with his head resting on his arms, on his desk. The old man wasn’t sleeping, but staring at nothing.

Becker closed the door quietly, taking a chair and gratefully sitting down, resting his aching back muscles.

“Fletcher,” he said.

The Lord High Admiral groaned but didn’t sit up.

“Straighten yourself, man,” Becker said. “This is unsightly.”

Fletcher groaned, sitting up, starting at Becker and cocking his head. “Do I know you?”

“We’ve been through all that. Brief me on the situation.”

Fletcher spoke haltingly at first, but then explained what had happened at a normal rate.

“Why aren’t you in Earth Defense Central?” Becker asked. “That’s where you ought to be.”

“I’m too tired,” Fletcher whispered. “I like it here better. I can see what I need on the screen and tell them at Central what to do. What Maddox did in East Antarctica was too much and too far. It’s time to bring him in.”

“No,” Becker said. “That’s overreacting. Remember, the key to this mission is stopping Meyers from causing too much harm.”

Fletcher frowned. “I’m the Lord High Admiral. I run Star Watch. I’ll say when something is—”

“Stop!” Becker said, as he exuded domination.

Fletcher winced painfully. Then he opened his mouth and groaned. He clutched at his heart—

“Listen to me,” Becker said, radiating full-strength domination. “You’re not going to have a heart attack. You’re well. You’re at ease.”

“My heart,” Fletcher whispered. “It’s beating too fast. Something is wrong with me. I don’t want to die.”

“Man up,” Becker said. “I told you you’re fine, feeling great in fact.”

Fletcher winced again, and the right side of his face began twitching.

“Damn you!” Becker shouted, worried the old bastard was going to die on him. Then, Nostradamus, or whatever he called himself these days, might investigate more closely. If the mass-mind found out that he knew the Liss master plan, that might mean the end of days for poor Josef Becker.

“There’s nothing worse than a man feeling sorry for himself,” Becker told Fletcher. “You aren’t that man. So quit clutching at your heart. You’re going to be fine.”

Fletcher’s hands dropped away.

“That’s better,” Becker said. “How do you feel?”

“Wonderful,” a white-faced, staring Fletcher said.

“Good, good,” Becker said. The old bastard could die once this was over. Nostradamus was almost in charge here anyway. All the Liss cyber mass needed was a few more days from Fletcher. After that, Becker could relax as he headed out to wherever Nostradamus had for him. Maybe he could fly far, far away—to the Erill System, for instance.

Becker sat up. That was a thought. Maybe he could end-run Nostradamus and everyone else. Maybe there still was a way to become the Master of the Universe. He needed to get to Maddox though, and interrogate him Jarnevon-style to learn everything about the City of Pyramids that he could.

Becker smiled genuinely.

That caused Fletcher to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Becker asked the admiral.

“I feel better when you smile like that. It gives me hope.”

Becker was getting ready to reprimand the Lord High Admiral when it hit him he must possess mighty powers indeed. The dream-gained knowledge, that he leaked so much power that it shifted others according to his moods—maybe he was looking at this all wrong. He’d been the Prime Saa’s butt-boy for a long time already. But maybe he didn’t need the Liss cyber anymore. He needed his own tight-knit group of slaves, a great spaceship—

“Starship Victory,” Becker whispered.

“Yes, I’m calling Victory right now,” Fletcher said.

“What?”

Fletcher straightened his tie, peering into the screen on his desk. “Patch me through now,” the Lord High Admiral told the people in Earth Defense Central.

Becker sat back in his chair, crossing his legs. The possibility of regaining independence, of having a plan that benefitted him…he had to play this right if he was going to win.

No problem, he told himself.

The Prime Saa—the Liss cyber mass-mind—had given him the power. What he’d needed was a Becker-inspired goal. The Liss was going to do his own thing. Okay. Now, Becker was going to do his.

PART V

END GAME

-1-

Maddox groaned as his head throbbed. A flying shard from an explosion had struck his forehead. He should be lying in a basement. Yet, he heard sounds like…by an effort of will he unglued his eyes and focused. There was movement around him. Oh. They were medical personnel. He recognized some of them. He was aboard Victory.

Maddox tried to speak. He only managed to make a hoarse sound. He closed his mouth, concentrated and tried again.

“Doctor,” he rasped.

A short woman in medical gear turned to him. “Captain Maddox,” she said. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

“My head…?” he wheezed.

“It’s a hard one. I don’t understand it, but you don’t have a concussion. You had a deep cut, though. We sealed it with nu-skin. I’d like you to stay where you are for a few hours and let the nu-skin solidify even more.”

Maddox frowned. “The ship…?”

The doctor glanced at the others as if for help. They avoided her gaze.

“What’s happening?” Maddox asked, his voice hardening.

“Please, Captain,” the doctor said. “I want you to remain here—”

Maddox was already swinging his legs off the cot. “Galyan. Galyan, come here.”

The little holoimage appeared.

“Now see here,” the doctor said.

“I’m overruling you,” Maddox told the doctor. “Galyan, the situation please.”

Galyan glanced at the doctor.

She threw up her hands. “I’m not going to be held responsible if he has a relapse.”

“Is that likely?” asked Galyan.

“I don’t care if it is or not,” Maddox said. He sat on the cot, his head pounding. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He actually felt faint.

It was likely the doctor noticed that. “You need rest, sir. Lie back. Let the others handle this one.”

“Galyan,” Maddox said.

“Valerie is giving chase, sir,” Galyan said.

“Chasing whom?”

“The stealth craft,” Galyan said. “Andros is using one of the processes he developed when we were searching for Lord Drakos. It is a faint image to be sure, and Valerie has ignored Earth Defense orders to hold back.”

Right, they were supposed to follow the stealth craft, the kidnappers. They had his grandmother! Maddox shut his eyes. This had been Director Chom’s idea, priming the Iron Lady to turn the tables on her captors. If Earth Defense was already giving orders…

“Are any Star Watch ships coming after us?” Maddox asked, as he opened his eyes.

“The three Conqueror-class battleships, sir, the ones that escorted us into Earth orbit several days ago? They were threatening to fire, but Valerie gave them a secret clearance code. The three have dropped back. Since then, we have not heard anything from Earth Defense.”

“That seems peculiar.”

Galyan nodded.

“What secret clearance code?” Maddox asked a second later. “I don’t remember—”

Galyan was glancing sharply sideways at the doctor.

“Ah,” Maddox said. “Yes. Is anyone else in Star Watch seeing this cloaked ship?”

“I do not think so, sir. Valerie is highly agitated. She is not used to doing the things you routinely…”

Maddox noticed the doctor’s attention to Galyan’s words. His mind was fuzzy, but he slid off the cot anyway. “Is Riker nearby?”

“Outside waiting,” Galyan said.

“Tell Valerie I’m coming upstairs. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Sir,” Galyan said, disappearing.

The doctor opened her mouth to protest.

“I’m fine,” Maddox said, wobbling as he headed for the door. “You did well. I’m pleased. Now—”

The captain staggered through a hatch into the waiting room. Riker jumped to his feet.

“Follow me,” Maddox told him.

Riker looked dubious, but he followed the captain through Medical and into a regular corridor.

“Hurry here, Sergeant. Lend me a shoulder, would you?”

Riker rushed up as Maddox laid an arm on the man’s shoulder, putting his weight on the sergeant. The captain actually groaned.

“Is this wise, sir?” asked Riker. “Maybe you should stay in Medical for once.”

“I can’t. My grandmother…”

“Right you are, sir. Let’s get you into your command chair. Don’t worry. I’ll help you to the bridge.”

Maddox didn’t nod. Instead, he concentrated on putting one foot ahead of the other. By what Galyan had told him, Valerie with Andros’s help was trailing the kidnappers or the ship that had launched the kidnappers in the fireball-like vehicles. Now, what did medieval-style warriors imply? What did the fireball shuttles mean? What kind of technology was that? Was Lisa Meyers behind the attack, or was this an entirely new enemy?

No. Not entirely new, Maddox decided. The enemy had used neuron rays upon his grandmother. They’d gotten her to go to the basement and thus she’d survived the fireball strike. Maybe Chom knew something more about all this, a something he hadn’t shared. What was Nostradamus thinking about all this? Why hadn’t the Liss reacted?

The ship corridor shuddered. Maddox stumbled and might have tripped. Riker wheezed keeping him up.

“Sir,” Galyan said, appearing. “There was some kind of hidden space mine in our path. It just exploded.”

“And?”

“We survived it. Unfortunately, the Lord High Admiral has begun hailing, ordering Victory back to Earth. I am afraid that Valerie is going to listen to him.”

“How close are we to the stealth ship?”

“I think we could use tractor beams to lock their ship in place and board them.”

Maddox dragged his arm off Riker’s shoulder. He lurched forward. Alien kidnappers possibly belonging to Lisa Meyers had his grandmother. Maddox lowered his throbbing head. Then, he broke into a staggering, stumbling run, beginning to pick up speed as he went, trying to get to the bridge in time.

-2-

Maddox stumbled onto the bridge. An agitated but ailing Lord High Admiral stared at him from the main screen. Fletcher looked horrible, with bags under his bloodshot eyes. The right side of his face had stiffened even worse than earlier.

Valerie looked back from the command chair and jumped up with obvious relief. She was pale and actually trembled as she headed for her normal station.

Maddox heard Fletcher speak, but couldn’t understand the words. He panted and his sweat was cold.

Fletcher spoke again.

Maddox held up a hand, reached the command chair and collapsed into it. He looked up at Fletcher and attempted a smile.

“You dare to mock me?” Fletcher asked angrily.

“No, no,” Maddox wheezed.

“Then, obey my order.”

“Uh…just a moment, sir.”

“None of your games, Captain. I know how you operate. Director Chom has given me a file on you and shown me your patterns. You delay—” Fletcher blinked rapidly before scowling. “Having me argue with you is part of your delaying tactic. Turn your ship around immediately.”

“Sir, I’m tracking Mary O’Hara’s kidnappers as per my original orders.”

“You’re doing nothing of the sort. You tried to thwart my orders earlier and nearly ruined everything. Fortunately, the kidnappers succeeded as planned. Now, you’ve found a stealth vessel and you’re roaring down on them to attempt tractor beaming would be my guess. That is not the plan. Obviously, you’re getting ready to storm and board them in direct disobedience to your mission orders.”

“Sir, the stealth craft has highly advanced technology. If they are Lisa Meyers’s agents, as you believe, we should grab this tech while we’re able. We may need it later when facing her next attempt. We could also interrogate the crew and find out if the Methuselah Woman is really behind all this. I don’t see a downside to what I’m doing.”

Fletcher glanced to the side, and his mouth opened. The Lord High Admiral closed it with a snap. He faced the screen. “Now, you listen to me, young man. I will not argue with my starship captains. Return to base immediately. That is a direct order. I’m ordering a different vessel to track the stealth vessel. You’re officially off the mission.”

Maddox’s head throbbed. He was tired and still healing from the recent head injury. His normal calm in these situations deserted him for once—maybe worry for his grandmother added to that. Anger crossed his face as he leaned toward the main screen.

“You permitted a Liss monster to fiddle with the Iron Lady’s mind. You knowingly programmed her as an assassin, and without her permission. Is that even legal? Is it moral? Do you even have any free will left, you old coot?”

Fletcher grew pale as red spots appeared on his cheeks. “How dare you? How do you know about the Liss? Tell me this instant.”

Maddox didn’t respond as he struggled to contain his anger. The head injury—he inhaled, practicing the Way of the Pilgrim.

“Won’t answer me, eh?” Fletcher said. “Then, hear this, Maddox. You’re relieved of command. Lieutenant Noonan, you will—”

Maddox clicked an override switch. The main screen went blank. “Galyan,” he said.

The holoimage appeared before him.

“Block all incoming calls,” Maddox whispered.

“Done,” Galyan said, his eyelids flickering.

Maddox swiveled around to see Valerie staring at him.

“The playacting is over,” Maddox told her, told the rest of the bridge crew. “This is all part of Nostradamus’s elaborate plot. First, we free Mary O’Hara. Then, we start hunting for Nostradamus in earnest. Any questions?”

“No, sir,” Valerie said.

“Let’s do this, sir,” Andros said.

“It is do or die time,” Galyan said. “Should I tell the professor he can come out of his science lab?”

“Yes,” Maddox said. “We’re not going to worry about the political commissar anymore. We need the Methuselah Man’s help.” Maddox took a deep breath as he looked at his people, his beloved crew. “Right,” he said. “Let’s grapple this stealth ship with tractor beams.” He clicked an armrest control. “Lieutenant Dain,” he said.

“Here, sir,” a Space Marine answered.

“Prepare a three-shuttle boarding party. You’re going to storm and secure the stealth craft and rescue the Iron Lady.”

“At once, sir,” Dain said.

Maddox clicked the armrest comm off.

“Just to let you know, sir,” Galyan said. “I am maintaining heavy jamming to keep any outside Star Watch orders from reaching anyone on the ship. I may not be able to maintain that around the three attack shuttles if they move too far from us.”

Maddox nodded.

“We’re almost in range,” Andros said from the science station.

“Good work,” Maddox said softly. Did the stealth craft have his grandmother or not? The kidnapping team and O’Hara had gone somewhere through the arch. He was betting they’d teleported or transferred to that ship.

“Sir,” Galyan said. “I should point out that the enemy warriors have shown they will self-destruct rather than allow themselves to be captured. They may cause the stealth ship to self-destruct in the event of capture.”

“I know,” Maddox said. “That’s what has me worried.”

“I spoke to the professor,” Galyan said. “He has been monitoring the situation from his lab. He suggests we should take a leaf from Strand’s book. He reminded me that Andros has worked on a modified stasis field.”

“Yes!” Maddox said, swiveling around to Andros. “Do you have an operational stasis-field generator hooked to the ship?”

Andros Crank looked up anxiously from his station. “A stasis field is tricky, sir. People die in them. I’ve practiced with it, an experimental model, you understand—”

“No more excuses, Chief Technician,” Maddox said. “Is it set up?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

“I am sorry to disagree with you, Chief Technician,” Galyan said. “But Professor Ludendorff informed me that he hooked it directly to the ship systems.”

“When did he do that?” Maddox asked.

“After the Political Commissar came aboard,” Galyan said. “He told me he needed something to do and suspected we would need the stasis field before this one was through.” Galyan turned to Andros, “If you will click on the ‘A’ Panel sub-route 3…”

Andros turned to his board and did so. He looked up in surprise.

“The stasis field generator follows your experimental model,” Galyan said. “The professor has improved on it a little, however.”

“Andros?” asked Maddox.

The Chief Technician manipulated his board, nodding afterward. “It should work, sir. Strand’s did, and I imagine the professor knew how Strand’s stasis field worked.”

“I agree,” Galyan said.

Renewed hope surged through Maddox. “We’ll try it. We’ll do it. Tell Ludendorff to get up here on the double.”

Galyan disappeared.

“Screen on,” Maddox told Valerie. “Let’s grab this stealth ship.”

-3-

From where Becker sat, he swiveled the Lord High Admiral’s desk screen so he could see what was happening. Victory accelerated, leaving Earth behind, heading in the direction of the Moon.

Fletcher sat glumly, looking away. Earth Defense Central had just informed him of heavy jamming around the ancient Adok starship. The three nearest Conqueror-class battleships had veered away from it a while ago.

“Call the Alexander,” Becker said. “Ask why they veered away.”

“I’ll need my screen back for that,” Fletcher pouted.

Becker turned the screen back to the old man. Then, he got up, walking around the desk, staying to the side so no one else could see him over there, but he could see them on the screen.

A moment later, the Alexander’s captain appeared, a large man in his forties with a gray crew cut. Captain Henderson informed Fletcher about the coded clearance.

That told Becker Maddox had broken Larick. Frankly, that stunned Becker. He hadn’t thought anyone could break the Neptunian wrestler. He’d wanted Larick with him on the trip to the Erill System. Well, if Larick was still on Victory…

“Should I track the starship?” the Alexander’s Captain Henderson asked.

“Just a moment,” Fletcher said, turning to Becker.

“No,” Becker said. “The three-ship flotilla should wait for further orders.”

Fletcher passed that along.

Becker groaned as a grim alien presence slid into the office. He’d been worried about this. The Prime Saa—Nostradamus!—must have been monitoring the situation.

What is this I find, Becker? Why are you allowing Victory to get into tractor-beam range of the stealth ship?

“Excuse me for a moment, Nostradamus.”

“What?” Fletcher asked.

“You will not remember this conversation,” Becker told the admiral.

A blank look swept over the old man’s features.

“What did you say, Nostradamus?” Becker asked.

You must prohibit Victory from chasing the stealth ship. I wish to locate Lisa Meyers’ secret base and the stealth ship will lead us to it. If that doesn’t work, Mary O’Hara is primed to act as our agent, informing us of the location once she has an opportunity.

“Believe me. I’m trying to implement your plan, Master. The starship is presently jamming all incoming calls.”

Why did the three battleships turn away from it?

Becker explained about the clearance code.

Computing, computing—I will check this out myself. The grim alien presence departed.

Becker wobbled back to a chair and carefully sat in it. This was far too frightening, too intense. There were too many elements in the air. Certainly, the Prime Saa was going to win. It had all the firepower on its side. It knew what was really taking place. If it seemed as if Maddox was going to pull another rabbit out of the hat at the last moment, the Prime Saa merely needed to tell him to tell Fletcher to let all Star Watch warships near Earth to converge on Victory and commence firing.

Becker shoved up to his feet, coming around the desk again. He ignored Fletcher sitting there like a lump of dull clay. Becker studied the screen. What would the Prime Saa—Nostradamus! I need to think of him as Nostradamus at all times. What would Nostradamus do to the crew of Victory? If Nostradamus nearly had the power to control all the humans on Earth, surely he had enough to control Maddox’s crew.

Becker stared at the image of the ancient Adok starship. Was there a way to gain Victory for himself and race away to the Erill System? What had Maddox learned there that Nostradamus wanted to know? Whatever the answer, it must be worth much.

Becker found himself chewing on his lower lip, desperately trying to come up with a plan that would give him the upper hand for good.

-4-

Aboard Victory, Ludendorff worked tirelessly in his science chamber, adding the final touches to a strange and bulky machine.

The Methuselah Man had been alone these past days, making sure he didn’t bump into Lieutenant Commissar Larick or any of his military police assassins. He’d been planning for this day ever since the Bosk hitmen had nearly slain his beloved Dana. Ludendorff hadn’t been completely candid with Maddox or the others when he’d joined them in the Erill System. There was nothing new in that. Ludendorff usually had ulterior motives in anything he did.

The difference this time was the objective. He was sick of Maddox getting all the credit all the time for saving the human race. Even in the Alpha Centauri System, when he’d built the weapon to face the Ska, Maddox had taken the weapon and driven the ancient spiritual entity away. People in the know had lauded the captain’s courage and self-sacrifice. It had nearly driven Ludendorff to despair. That had started the mess with the Bosks and Draegars and the beginning of the end between Dana and him.

That wasn’t going to be the case here. Ludendorff hummed to himself, half driven to despair knowing what should be happening very soon indeed. The Bosk hitmen had informed Ludendorff far more than anyone would have expected.

But then I’m the greatest mind in Human Space, Ludendorff told himself. If anyone can take facts and extrapolate the future from them, it’s me.

He’d turned the tables on the Bosk hitmen, and he’d interrogated them thoroughly. They’d told him strange tales. Those tales had sparked an ancient memory in his fantastic Methuselah Man brain. That was the trouble with knowing so damn much. It got lost in the maze of his old brain. He’d forgotten more than some civilizations would ever know. Plus, there were hidden Builder-formed memories stuck in odd places in his brain. Those inserted memories would bubble up at the weirdest times.

Take this Paranormal Brain-wave Tracer Generator Pulsar Machine. It was unique, and he was the only one who could have built it. That was why he’d been so late getting to Victory in the Erill System. He’d taken a long side-tour to a Builder asteroid with the schematics to this thing. He’d memorized the layout, the construction—

A light on the main panel began to flash.

“Hell’s Bells!” Ludendorff shouted. “I’m not ready yet.”

Despite that, the Methuselah Man put on a helmet with many sprouting antennas over his head. Wires attached the helmet to the PBWTGP Machine. He made furious adjustments to the machine—

The panel light flashed a final warning.

“I know, I know,” Ludendorff muttered. He hesitated to flip the final switch, though. Maddox had taken ghastly soul-wounds from using this kind of technology. Would using this injure his incredible intellect?

There was a high probability of that.

Ludendorff sighed. The Bosk hitmen had severely wounded Dana, nearly killing her. He’d vowed to track their master and make him pay. Here was the opportunity. Dana had pleaded with him to remain at her side. She’d even promised to go away with him once she got better.

Ludendorff had been unable to do that. He loved Dana. He hated seeing her helpless and possibly crippled for life. He knew he couldn’t stay around if she remained a cripple. He needed a lusty partner. The excuse to hunt the brain behind the hitmen that might have permanently maimed Dana—

It had been as good excuse as any, but he’d actually meant it, too. After this was over…

Ludendorff flipped the final switch. The PBWTGP Machine fully activated with a low hum. The ancient Methuselah Man grunted as his normal vision wavered. He saw splotches, growing crystalline worms—

His vision faded, and he saw paranormal brain-wave activity as a great yellow cloud with slit eyes peering out of it. That cloud hovered at the edge of Victory, attempting to break through the heavy jamming.

Ludendorff chuckled to himself. He’d added a few touches to the jamming mechanism, making it more formidable to such a brain-wave-generated assault.

The machine he presently used had created a brain-wave funnel so he could project like this outside the jamming field.

“You must be the Prime Saa,” Ludendorff said. The PBWTGP Machine turned his words into mass-mind-meld vibrations.

The yellow cloud backed away from the jamming even as it focused on him aboard Victory.

What are you?

“Can’t you figure it out, old son?”

Yes! You must be Professor Ludendorff, the Methuselah Man. How are you able to address me in this form? You lack such abilities.

“A fantastic brain such as mine is the most formidable tool in the galaxy,” Ludendorff boasted. “You should know that, as you possess quite the intellect yourself.”

I am the Great Intelligence. I am the Liss cyber mass-mind, which you have already deduced.

“Been lying low for several thousand years, have you?”

I almost awoke several years ago when the Draegars brought you to the surface for several weeks of mind manipulation. You would have died if I’d awoken then.

“That’s false, and that means you’re bragging. Have the humans infected you?”

That is not possible.

“For being such a Great Intelligence, you lack some simple common sense. Your tools, your slaves, have obviously corrupted your perfect Liss cyber mind.”

Lies!

“I can actually see the corruption in you.”

Explain your statement.

“I don’t have to,” Ludendorff said. “You can sense it, must have been sensing it all along. Your greatest servant has been busy observing you. That observing has tainted you.”

If you are so wise, name this servant.

“Let me see,” Ludendorff said, as he adjusted the main panel. “Ah, it’s finally ready. Well, Prime Saa, I can’t say it has been fun, but it has been real. You’re too absorbed with yourself and like to talk. I should know. I have some of the same foibles myself. In your case, it has allowed my PBWTGP Machine to build up a bolt you’re going to appreciate—”

Ludendorff stabbed a button.

The PBWTGP Machine spewed a red clot of para-power. It shot through the funnel, swishing past the jamming field and arrowed at the hovering yellow cloud with slit eyes just beyond Victory. That clot struck—

Ludendorff tore off the wired helmet. Electrical smoke poured from it. At the same time, the bulky PBWTGP machine caught fire, beginning to sizzle, spark, burn harder—Ludendorff threw himself onto the floor, scrambling under a heavy table.

The overloaded PBWTGP machine exploded, hurling parts and pieces everywhere.

-5-

As Ludendorff confronted the Prime Saa, Andros Crank detected faint images, giving the information to Maddox. The captain relayed his order to Keith Maker, possibly the greatest helmsman in the Fleet. Keith guided Victory, the accelerating starship barreling toward the barely detectable stealth ship.

The chase led Victory to a region between Earth and its Moon.

“Andros,” Maddox said.

“It’s still there,” the Chief Technician said.

“Weapons officer,” Maddox said. “Deploy the tractor beam.”

The weapons officer manipulated his board.

On the main screen, Victory’s green-colored tractor beam reached out. The tip flattened as if pressing against a ship’s side. The stealth ship could not be detected on the main screen.

The starship shook as the latched tractor beam used its supposedly greater mass to influence the captured enemy vessel.

As if from nowhere, red sheering beams struck the tractor beam. The small red beams cut into the larger one as if sawing. Abruptly, Victory ceased shaking. The flattened end of the tractor beam vanished. The red beams were no longer visible either.

Maddox struck an armrest. “Use the stasis field before they can get away.”

Andros shook his head. “Can’t do that yet, Captain. We need to be closer to deploy the field. And it would be better if they were at a dead stop, or at least had the exact velocity as we do. That means—”

“I know what it means,” Maddox said, his voice almost calm, as if he had to struggle to keep it that way. “Weapons, deploy the tractor beam again. Use them in beam rotations. If they want to cut our beam, we’ll make them do it all day, draining them of power.”

The weapons officer glanced at Valerie.

“It’s hard to latch the T-beam when we can’t see the enemy ship,” she told Maddox.

The captain nodded. “Andros,” he said.

“Aye, aye, sir,” the Chief Technician said. “I’m working on it.” His pudgy fingers flew across his panel. “There. That should help.”

On the main screen, a faint image of the stealth ship appeared. It was an oval-shaped vessel, much bigger than normal stealth vessels, perhaps an eighth the size of Victory.

“Much appreciated, Andros,” the weapons officer said. “That should make the difference.” He manipulated his board.

Several green tractor beams speared from Victory. These were each smaller than the original T-beam. Two of the new ones latched onto the oval-shaped stealth ship.

“Start decelerating,” Maddox said.

“I’m on it, sir,” Keith said.

Like before, the starship shuddered and the engines increased pitch. Victory slowed the velocity of the enemy vessel.

“Star Watch battleships are leaving Earth orbit to intercept us,” Galyan said. “They are attempting to hail anyone about us who will listen, but I am still blocking their messages.”

Maddox nodded.

“We have two solid tractor beams attached and three more are gripping,” the weapons officer said.

“The stealth ship has cannons,” Galyan warned. “The cannons are activating.”

“Andros,” Maddox said sharply. “We need that stasis field. Knock them out now.”

The Chief Technician shook his head even as he stabbed controls. “Here goes nothing, sir. I hope it works.”

The tractor beam continued holding the slowing stealth ship. Victory shook, and the enemy vessel shook more.

On the underside of the ancient Adok starship, a dish glowed with power. The power built up—an odd, wavering energy field emitted from the dish. The wavering, 3-D stasis field flowed over the stealth ship. The faint image wavered but remained in place.

“The enemy cannons are deactivating,” Galyan said. “Everything on the enemy vessel is shutting down over there.”

“Excellent,” Maddox said. “Launch the attack shuttles.”

“If the stasis field touches the shuttles,” Andros warned, “the Space Marines aboard will all fall unconscious.”

“What?” Maddox demanded.

“The Space Marines will go unconscious and possibly die,” Andros said. “All shuttle engines will stop, too. The stasis field puts everything to rest.”

“What about the people in the enemy stealth ship?” Maddox asked.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Andros said. “If the stasis field stays on them too long, they will also perish. Didn’t I already tell you that?”

Maddox slapped an armrest. He couldn’t believe it. “Andros,” he said.

“Thinking during battle is a different process,” the Chief Technician muttered. “Everything happens so fast. I forgot to tell you about that. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“Turn off the stasis field,” Maddox said. “We can’t risk killing O’Hara.”

“It’s possible the enemy might revive if we shut off the stasis field too soon,” Andros said.

“Turn it off,” Maddox said, his voice rising. “Turn it off now.”

“Turning off the stasis field,” Andros said, as he manipulated his board.

“Galyan,” Maddox said, “watch the stealth ship closely. Tell me immediately if you sense any revival on their part.”

“What about our Space Marines?” Galyan asked.

“Have the attack shuttles launched?” asked Maddox.

“Affirmative,” Galyan said.

Maddox stared at the main screen. He saw the three attack shuttles, the first one well in the lead. With a nod, he said, “They storm the enemy ship. They find O’Hara. They bring her back here to me.”

“Do you recall what I said about the stealth craft’s warriors?” Galyan asked. “They would rather die than allow themselves to be captured.”

Maddox nodded. He hadn’t forgotten. It had been gnawing at him ever since he heard it. “Go there, Galyan. Help the Marines find my grandmother. Help her get to an access point so we can save her.”

“What about the continued jamming, sir?” Galyan asked.

“Andros will take care of it,” Maddox said. “Go. Save my—help O’Hara.”

“That is not what I meant, sir. I will open windows for communication between us and the stealth ship.”

“You can do that?” Andros said.

“This near to the enemy vessel, yes,” Galyan said. “But sir,” the holoimage said to Maddox. “What about the enemy warriors?”

“Right,” Maddox said. This was more than just saving his grandmother. “You go. I’ll speak to the lieutenant.”

Maddox opened channels with Lieutenant Dain, explaining how he wanted this done.

At the same time, Galyan vanished.

-6-

Back in Geneva, Becker groaned, his giant head aching. He found himself on the floor and didn’t remember falling. He sensed wetness under his nose—he touched the bottom of his nose and stared at his bloody fingers. What had happened to him? Where in the—

I’m in Fletcher’s office.

With a groan, Becker rolled onto his back. He felt sick and his nose hurt. He must have hit his nose on Fletcher’s desk when he went down.

Why did I fall?

He vaguely remembered telling Fletcher what to do next when a reeling force struck his mind. He’d blanked out, came to as he struck the desk and then—

Becker pushed up with his hands, climbing to his feet. The room swayed, or he did. Becker thudded butt-first into a chair, panting, trying to think coherently. He gently wiped the bottom of his nose with a sleeve. Rubbed his eyes—

Becker stared in shock across the large desk. Fletcher lay back sprawled in his chair. The Lord High Admiral’s features were contorted and frozen.

Becker shoved up to his feet, staggering around the desk and grabbing one of the man’s limp arms. He felt for a pulse.

“He’s dead,” Becker said quietly. He scowled. “Why did you have to go and die on me now, you dumb bastard?”

No. That was the wrong question. Fletcher was dead. So, who ran Star Watch now? The people in Earth Defense Central seemed like the best answer. They were Colorado in the old United States of America. Even by rocket plane, it would take too long to physically go there and dominate the new leader.

Should he go see Director Chom? The Sigma Draconian might have channels to the right places.

Wait a minute, Becker told himself. You’re not thinking this through. What happened to you? You must remember.

Becker moved to a chair, sitting, balancing his head, closing his eyes and trying to remember what had happened before he’d blacked out. He didn’t feel physically ill—other than his nose. It wasn’t bleeding as much and the agony of it had died down. That would imply—

Becker’s eyes opened wide. He had a faint recollection. Nostradamus—the alien presence of the mass-mind had reeled back in shock. It had gone out to see for itself what was happening on Victory. There, Nostradamus—the Prime Saa—had faced a powerful jamming field. The field was different from the one he’d used against Hekkus Laja a lifetime ago in orbit around Jarnevon.

Remember, Becker told himself.

The Prime Saa—its mental projection of paranormal force—had worked to insert into the ship when Ludendorff had struck. The Methuselah Man had had some kind of weapon that fired a heavy red clot of para-power at the Prime Saa. The clot had dissolved the mind-meld. In that dissolving, the Prime Saa presence had fled from Victory.

Becker touched his head. Some of that unlatching force had backlashed against him. Which was freaking weird. It should have backlashed to the Moon. What would cause some of the unravelling force to come here?

Becker thought harder, trying to remember. He’d sensed…rage, rage against him. The rage had been because…the Prime Saa wasn’t going to let him survive its demise.

“No, no,” Becker whispered. If the Prime Saa suspected him of disloyalty…

Clenching his fists and shaking them, Becker shouted, “Think, you idiot! Don’t panic! You have to think. You have to use what you have.”

Becker slid out of the chair and sat on the floor, crossing his legs and straightening his torso. He held as near to a lotus position as he could. Then, he closed his eyes and started analyzing.

If Becker could have projected his thoughts like the Prime Saa could, he would have gone to the Moon caverns and checked on his Master.

Did he really need to check on the Prime Saa, though? No. Ludendorff’s red para-clot had dissolved the mass-mind-meld. That would be a temporary thing. The Liss cyber mass-mind would be resting, plotting and readying itself for revenge. Regaining its projection power would take time, but not too much time.

In that time, Becker had to strike. He couldn’t strike against the Prime Saa, as he probably couldn’t reach the Moon in time. What could he do that would give him high odds for success?

Becker debated joining Maddox and making a deal. He rejected the idea almost immediately. That meant he had two choices. He could do something to make the Prime Saa happy with him. That would lead at best to an extended life of servitude. He couldn’t screw the babes any more anyway. He’d rid himself of that in order to rule the universe. But that was out under the Prime Saa.

Becker opened his eyes and climbed to his feet. That left the final option.

Going to the Lord High Admiral’s desk, he opened drawers until he found a service pistol. He checked it and stuffed it behind him against his waistband. He took a calming breath.

“Too bad you died, Fletcher. I guess that was my fault. I pushed you too hard. Your death has put me in a bad way. But it’s forcing me to gamble for the whole shebang.”

Becker smiled at the dead man. “I’m going to do it, Admiral. I’m going to beat Maddox, Ludendorff and the freaking Prime Saa.”

With the bold words ringing in his ears, Becker turned for the secret door that connected via corridor to Director Chom’s office. It was time to get it done.

-7-

Several minutes later, Becker collected himself and his dominating energies, breathed deeply and opened the secret door. He stepped through into an empty room. Director Akon Chom was not at his desk.

All right, all right, don’t panic yet, Becker told himself.

He did, though, if doing nothing but standing there like a fool was panicking. He’d expected a quick battle of wills. Chom would not be an easy person to dominate, especially compared to Fletcher. That meant a fight to the—

“Chom’s not here,” Becker said to himself. He walked into the room, thinking—

“Don’t move,” Chom said from behind and into his left ear. The man’s bad breath wafted into Becker’s nostrils. A pistol also jammed into Becker’s back, making him arch in pain. “Who are you?” Chom breathed with his stinking breath. “Why shouldn’t I shoot you down like a rabid larl?”

Becker’s mouth had become bone dry. He couldn’t speak because fear radiated so fiercely in him. Why hadn’t he sensed Chom hiding behind the door? How had the director known he was coming?

“I don’t have time for games,” Chom said.  “Start speaking or you’re dead.”

“I-I’m Captain Becker. You know me.”

“That’s right, I do know you,” Chom hissed into the left ear. “I’ve been studying you, Becker. There’s something damned strange about you. You show up at the oddest places, and then wild things start happening. Do you know that I learned it was you who convinced Fletcher to leave retirement and rejoin Star Watch?”

Becker forced himself to remain calm, reaching out with his mind—he felt nothing. That was sickening. Had he lost his powers?

“What just happened?” Chom said. “Why did your shoulders slump? What will I find if I walk the corridor to the Lord High Admiral’s office?”

Becker thought furiously. He sensed the secretary in the outer office. He hadn’t lost his powers, but he couldn’t sense Chom. Was the man a holoimage? No. That was stupid. How did the pistol poke against his back then?

Chom plucked off Becker’s hat. A second later, Becker endured the indignity of Chom feeling his cranium, the man’s thick fingers running through his hair and probing against his scalp.

“You’re a freak,” Chom declared.

“No!” Becker shouted. He turned around—

With his pistol-hand, Chom shoved him in the chest.

Becker staggered backward, nearly losing his balance. The back of his legs hit a chair, and he abruptly sat in it.

Chom was a muscular, bald-headed soldier from Sigma Draconis. He wore a black uniform and looked like a tough guy with his oddly slanted eyes.

That reminded Becker of his dream with the cloud having slit eyes of similar shape. Did that mean anything or was it simply a coincidence? With a shock, Becker understood what was going on.

There was a half-metallic band around Chom’s head. It was the same kind of headband that Stokes had taken from the R&D center in Toronto, East Canada Sector. A small purring box was attached to the headband.

“So it’s you,” Chom said, noticing the direction of Becker’s stare. “I wondered why Stokes went to all the trouble. Are you a Spacer adept?”

“What?” Becker asked. “No. I’m on your side.”

“Think again, traitor. You’re an alien freak. Your large dome shows that. You’re some kind of mentalist freak-artist, a mutated creature meant to work among us. I knew there were some kind of mind specialists working against Star Watch. I’ve been sensing it.”

“No, you don’t understand. Nostradamus is from Jarnevon.”

“What are you babbling about?” Chom demanded.

“Haven’t you wondered about all the Bosks running free?”

Chom’s features didn’t change.

Becker thought about that. Maybe Nostradamus—the Prime Saa—had modified Chom, but left the man’s free will intact otherwise. That would fit with the Prime Saa’s operational tactics. He—Becker—had free will. Probably, the Prime Saa had reasoned that such a thing produced servants that were more productive than mere mind slaves.

“I can prove what I’m saying,” Becker said.

“Prove what? You’ve told me nothing so far.”

“The Bosks and Draegars from Jarnevon aren’t the problem.”

“You’re throwing words, trying to obfuscate the matter. Of course, they’re not the problem. We’re using them to strengthen Star Watch.”

Becker shook his head. “You’re a dupe. Nostradamus has already modified your mind. Why do you think you switched to Intelligence work? You’re a soldier, a fighter, not a spymaster by inclination.”

“I do my duty,” Chom said flatly.

“That’s what Nostradamus made you think.” Becker laughed, and he didn’t like the hysterical quality of it. Time was running out. Whatever Ludendorff had done to the Prime Saa would be wearing off fast.

“Why are you so nervous?” Chom asked.

“Why do you think, you idiot?” shouted Becker. “We’re all going under. The human race will never have free will again.”

Chom’s features hardened, and he raised the gun.

Becker closed his eyes, and as he did, he realized what he should have been doing. He reached out with his domination power and put a suggestion into the secretary’s mind. He couldn’t control her without looking at her first and setting the parameters. But he could make her curious.

Chom shoved a shoulder. “Open your eyes when I’m talking to you. I despise weaklings like you that close their eyes when they’re about to die.”

Becker opened his eyes, and he saw his death in Chom’s hard features.

The door opened. “Sir,” the secretary said. She was a leggy, athletic woman.

“Not now,” Chom told her.

Becker turned, and he concentrated. The secretary’s eyelids fluttered. Becker’s eyes opened wider as he exuded domination power.

“Sir,” the secretary said. “Uh…the Lord High Admiral just called. He wants his spymaster back.”

“You mean this bigheaded freak?” asked Chom.

The secretary’s eyelids fluttered again. “No, sir,” she said. “Fletcher wants you to bring Captain Becker to his office.”

“That’s what I said,” Chom replied. “Why does Fletcher want him?”

“Please don’t take me back to Fletcher,” Becker whimpered. “I beg you, have mercy on me.”

Chom studied him narrowly. “No. I’m not buying this. It’s too coincidental. You’re making my secretary say that, aren’t you?”

Becker looked back at her before facing Chom and shaking his head. The director was too suspicious of him. He had to try something else.

The secretary screamed like a banshee, and she sprinted into the office, charging Chom.

“Stop that,” Chom shouted at Becker. The director raised his gun again. He’d lowered it when the secretary started talking.

Becker ducked as the secretary rushed in front of him. She was screaming wildly, flailing her arms as she ran straight at Chom.

Shots rang out. Chom stepped aside with the smoking gun at his side. The injured secretary ran past him and smacked against the wall, falling backward as blood oozed from three bullet wounds. She thumped back onto the floor—

Becker fired from behind his chair. Chom had been watching her, taking his eyes off him long enough for Becker to draw his hidden pistol. Bullets struck the muscular officer from Sigma Draconis.

Chom staggered back, raising his gun for another volley.

Becker fired three more times, shooting the director in the chest.

Chom lost strength before he could fire, and the gun slipped out of his hand. It struck the floor before he did. The director followed though, groaning at the fiery pain of his wounds.

Becker had already worked it out in his head. He rushed to the bleeding man, tore off the headband and began dominating the other’s will. It was easier because Chom was dying, proving less resistant.

“You’re not dying yet,” Becker said through gritted teeth, flooding Chom with the will to live. “You have one task that you must do for me. This is the most important thing in your life. If you wish to save Star Watch, this is imperative.”

Chom groaned with agony as he struggled to a sitting position and then to his feet. He shuffled to his desk, panting horribly and sweating profusely. He crashed onto his chair and turned on his screen.

“Hurry,” Becker said. “Time is running out.”

Chom licked his lips. He was ashen-faced, dying as he attempted to do this one thing. A moment later, a face appeared on the desk screen.

“Director Chom,” said Captain Henderson of Battleship Alexander.

“Listen to me,” Chom whispered. “I’m sending the Lord High Admiral’s personal representative to your ship. You are to obey him as you would Admiral Fletcher.”

“You look horrible,” Henderson said.

“Never mind that,” Chom whispered, his eyes staring and sweat dripping from his face. “The representative’s name is Captain Becker. He has the Lord High Admiral’s full authority. Do you understand?”

Henderson frowned as he searched Chom’s face. “I’ll need clearance for that,” the captain finally said.

Chom gripped the edge of the desk, leaning forward, reciting the highest clearance code.

“Very well,” Henderson said, who studied a slate. “I’m to wait here, you said?”

“Until he arrives,” Chom whispered. “He’ll be coming by jumpfighter.”

“Maddox is going crazy, you know.” Henderson said.

“Captain Becker will know what to do.” The dying man panted, working his lips. “Director Chom out.” With shaking fingers, he pressed a switch, cutting the connection. Slowly, Chom looked up.

“You did well,” Becker said. “Now, give me clearance for your jumpfighter.”

Chom whispered the words.

Becker smiled down at the muscular man. “You can die now.”

“Yes,” Chom said, as he closed his eyes and slid out of the chair.

Becker was already heading for the door. He had to reach the Alexander before Nostradamus got his mass-mind-meld working again. If he could do this, Becker knew he had a chance of winning everything.

-8-

Using his far-ranging holo-imaging emitter and a window through Victory’s jamming field, the ancient Adok holoimage appeared on the dark stealth ship. As Andros had advertised, the stasis field must have deactivated everything in here, including the interior lights and gravity generators.

Galyan moved through dark corridors, finding unconscious humanoids floating in various places. They were uniformly dusky-skinned. Some were skinny. Others were impressively muscular. Galyan could tell because he had illuminated himself to provide light. There was nothing exotically alien here so far, but neither did these people or the style of the ship architecture match any known patterns.

Galyan used a holoimage sensor, locating Mary O’Hara. He disappeared—and reappeared beside O’Hara. She was in some sort of detention cell lying unconscious, barely breathing.

“Mary O’Hara,” Galyan said.

She did not respond. Would she revive slower or faster than the others in here? The captain had told him to find his grandmother. Galyan had, and now he must save her.

The little holoimage’s eyelids fluttered. Yes. It was time to take a risk, as the captain was risking everything today.

“I hope you are strong enough for this, Brigadier.”

As a holoimage, Galyan sank into Mary’s form and flashed, causing bodily stimulation everywhere. As she floated above a steel cot, Mary jerked like a flopped fish. She groaned, smacking her lips together.

“Brigadier Mary O’Hara,” Galyan said.

“What?” she slurred.

“Your grandson is rescuing you. First, you must revive and do what I say.”

“No more voices,” Mary groaned. “I’m so tired of all the voices in my head. Do this; do that. It’s too much already. I just want to lie here and—”

“Open your eyes, Mary.”

The former Iron Lady scowled. It would appear she did not like anyone telling her what to do.

“Brigadier, that is an order.”

“Who’s giving the order?” she asked quietly.

“I already told you. I, Driving Force Galyan.”

“That’s a trick. I’m sick of tricks.”

“Brigadier, if you don’t fully revive, your grandson is going to be very angry with me. He sent me to make sure we rescued you from these terrorists.”

“Okay, okay, I’m trying. Can’t you see that? I’m old.”

“You are not old. You are precious to your grandson, though.”

Mary O’Hara seemed to think about that. Finally, sighing, she opened her eyes, staring at him. “Galyan, it’s really you.”

“Yes, Brigadier. Are you ready?”

“I am.”

Still illuminating his holoimage, Galyan guided O’Hara through the corridors of the stealth ship. The ancient Adok AI did not attempt to study the ship, the floating natives or the various technologies. He had a singular goal as given him by Captain Maddox, and brought O’Hara to a main lock.

“I have just recognized a problem,” Galyan said. “The captain is sending a boarding party. They will undoubtedly use breach bombs. That will cause the atmosphere around you to flee into the vacuum of space. I must take you—” Galyan looked around. “There is a chamber nearby. You will have to wait in there.”

“Can’t you cause the main lock to open for them?”

“I have attempted it, but no,” Galyan said.

“Very well,” she said. “Let’s backtrack.”

By the time Galyan left O’Hara in a sealed chamber, Victory’s first attack shuttle reached the inert stealth craft. Galyan knew because he projected himself outside on the stealth ship’s outer hull. It was as black as deepest space but visible just the same.

An attack shuttle drifted nearby, with battlesuited Space Marines using thruster packs to glide onto the enemy hull.

Galyan hurried to them. “Where is Lieutenant Dain?”

A battlesuit raised an exoskeleton arm.

Galyan observed that Dain’s team had already attached a breach bomb to the hull. It would be a big breach, as per the captain’s orders.

“Ready?” Dain asked his men.

They radioed an affirmative.

The breech bomb detonated, blowing a huge hole through the hull and into the interior. Around the entrance waited Dain’s battlesuited Space Marines.

The ship’s atmosphere blew through the hole, taking various junk and the occasional person, shooting everything into space. According to Maddox’s idea, this should kill the majority of the crew. He needed them dead so they wouldn’t wake up and self-destruct the stealth ship and the transfer technology within.

At last, no more air blew out of the breach. That didn’t mean all the ship had vacuum, as some of the hatches could have emergency sealed.

Dain led his Space Marines into the enemy vessel. They began fanning out, searching for enemy survivors with orders to kill them.

A second team followed Galyan. The holoimage led them to O’Hara’s holding cell. The team sealed plastic around the hatch, with an extra spacesuit within. They inflated the plastic, creating an emergency bubble around the hatch.

Galyan went through to O’Hara, telling her it was safe to open the hatch.

She found the spacesuit and donned it. One of the Marines sliced open the bubble. Then, they guided her toward the breach and a waiting shuttle outside.

“Take her back to Victory,” Galyan told the Marines.

“You can count on that,” the corporal answered. “This way, Ma’am. We’re taking you home.”

Inside her helmet, Mary smiled even as her eyes welled with tears. Her grandson had come for her. She knew he would. Maddox was a good boy, the best.

***

Soon, with the two battlesuited Marines’ help, Mary flew through space, landing inside the shuttle. The three of them hurried to the piloting chamber, heading for Victory, with the blue Earth behind the ancient starship as a backdrop.

As the shuttle left, two more attack shuttles eased into position near the enemy vessel, ready to unload their boarding parties.

Ten minutes later, the first shuttle was halfway to Victory.

***

Meanwhile, the battlesuited Marines from the three attack shuttles spread throughout the alien stealth craft. So far, they’d killed five space-suited enemy warriors.

Eight minutes after that, Lieutenant Dain led a team onto what had to be the main bridge. A dusky-skinned man wearing an armored spacesuit floated by bridge controls, repeatedly pressing a red switch.

“Halt,” Dain said through his comm.

Galyan acted faster, realizing what the warrior attempted. He had seen it with his holoimage sensors.

A mechanical device deep inside the stealth ship was connected to the switch. If that device moved, a drop of matter would tumble and touch a similar drop of antimatter. The accompanying antimatter explosion would rip through the stealth ship, gaining power as it exploded fissionable material set at strategic locations. The antimatter/thermonuclear fireball would devour everything in the alien vessel, including the entire boarding party with Lieutenant Dain but minus the two Marines flying Mary O’Hara to Victory.

“Shoot him immediately,” Galyan said.

Dain hesitated one more second, and then fired, riddling the alien warrior.

As that happened, the stealth ship’s systems finally came back online. The dying man pressed the switch a last time.

Faster than the blink of an eye, Galyan disappeared and reappeared at the critical spot, exploding with electric power. He burned through the link, stopping the signal from reaching the dollop of matter to merge with antimatter.

In that way, he saved the stealth ship and the boarding party. Now, it was time to report to Maddox and find out what was next.

-9-

Maddox swiveled his chair as Valerie gasped. He saw the direction of her gaze and saw Ludendorff in smoking, torn clothes stagger onto the bridge.

“What happened to you?” Valerie shouted.

Ludendorff waved that aside as unimportant. He had raw burns on his hands, though.

“Professor,” Valerie said, jumping up.

“Please, please,” Ludendorff said, a bit too theatrically. “Don’t worry about me. We should worry about the human race. The Liss cyber mind-meld must be approaching its maximum strength.”

“You would know this how?” Maddox asked.

“I just faced it,” Ludendorff said, as he thrust out his chest. “Yes. I faced it as the mass mind-meld attempted to break through the jamming field. It was going to roam through Victory seeking victims. Fortunately, I had the foresight to strengthen the jamming emitters to delay it, and I had the wisdom to build a PBWTGP machine.”

“What’s that?” Valerie asked.

“That, my dear, is a Paranormal Brain-wave Tracer Generator Pulsar machine.”

“What?” Valerie asked.

“The machine that blew up on him,” Maddox guessed.

“Oh, you can downplay its effects, if you want,” Ludendorff said. “But I just saved everyone’s humanity aboard our ship.”

“But, but,” Valerie said. “I don’t understand.”

“Get to the point, Professor,” Maddox said.

“Exactly why I ran to the bridge, my boy,” Ludendorff said. “I’m here to warn you. We must act while the mass-mind-meld is compartmentalized into its individual, stunned pieces. If it moved so openly against the ship, it must be ready for its mass domination hypnosis—once it recovers from my blast, of course.”

“Like usual, you’ve been holding back on us,” Maddox said.

Ludendorff spread his raw hands. “Until I built the PBWTGP machine, our only hope was finding the Liss’ lair before it was ready to strike openly. Galyan and the crew have failed to find the hideaway. Thus, why bother worrying the rest of you unnecessarily while I did what was needed?”

“Where is its bolt hole?” Maddox demanded.

Ludendorff pointed at the captain. “We must discover that before it can reassemble its mass-mind-meld.”

“Clues,” Maddox said. “Did you find any clues while attacking it?”

“Ah. That’s an interesting point. I’ve been so engrossed with my successes—” The professor snapped his fingers, wincing afterward. “Let me see the search charts, Galyan.”

“Wait a minute,” Keith said from Helm. “Look. The rest of you might trust that old coot, but how do we know the alien mind hasn’t taken control of him? Maybe the alien in him is just biding its time to gather its power for a strike against us.”

“No,” Maddox said. “That’s Professor Ludendorff in the flesh and sound of mind. No one would stop to brag about his exploits at a time like this except the professor. I don’t believe an alien mind-controller could duplicate that so perfectly.”

“Have your laugh. Have your little laugh,” Ludendorff said. “But the sooner I study the search charts, the sooner I can make my guess.”

Maddox shook his head. “Galyan has searched everywhere on Earth. He’s found nothing to indicate a deep Liss cavern. That’s what you told us before the thing would want.”

“I told you what I knew at the time. It’s still relative. My short contact with it has stimulated old memories, however.” Ludendorff fixed his gaze on Maddox. “Wait, wait, wait. I might have something. The direction of the thought—” Ludendorff frowned.

Galyan appeared, blurting that he’d just saved the stealth ship. “The Iron Lady’s shuttle should be landing about now.”

“Excellent work, Galyan,” Maddox said. “I really appreciate what you’ve done. Now, you and the professor need to put your heads together and see where—”

“I have it!” Ludendorff shouted. “I know what struck me as odd. The mind-meld entity or massed thought came from out there.” He pointed. “It didn’t come from there.” He pointed in the other direction.

“What does that mean?” Maddox asked.

“The massed thought did not come from Earth?” Galyan asked.

“Exactly,” Ludendorff said.

“But if it came from out there—” Galyan threw up his ropy holographic arms. “That means the thought mass came from the direction of the Moon.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Ludendorff said, clapping his hands together, wincing worse than before. “That makes perfect sense. The Liss cyber didn’t go to ground on Earth. It went to the Moon. It must be somewhere on the Moon.”

“Stokes faced one of the creatures in Montana,” Maddox said.

“That doesn’t matter,” Ludendorff said. “It’s where the mass is that counts. Galyan, begin analyzing the Moon for locations. You know what to look for.”

“Captain?” Galyan asked Maddox.

“Scan the Moon,” Maddox said. He swiveled around to face the main screen. “There’s something I’m not getting. Star Watch is far too complacent concerning our latest actions, at least a Star Watch run by those enslaved by the Liss. Why is the Liss letting us do all this without reacting to our moves?”

“It did react,” Ludendorff said. “I struck back, stunning it. Now, it must be gathering its forces for its next move or attack.”

“Valerie,” Maddox said. “Are any warships gathering?”

The lieutenant studied her board. “A jumpfighter just appeared near the Alexander. There are the battleships heading from Earth orbit, but they’ve slowed down. The nearest warships are the three Conqueror-class battleships.”

“Uh-huh,” Maddox said, thinking. “How many ships are in front of us, blocking the Moon?”

“Several attack cruisers in Luna orbit,” Valerie said. “There are Luna batteries and missile sites on the Moon.”

“There are also three strikefighter bases,” Keith said.

Ludendorff looked up from a panel where Galyan was quietly explaining a mini-screen image to him. “It would be best if we didn’t have to fight our way to the Liss caverns,” Ludendorff said.

“That would be best,” Maddox agreed. “But, so what? That’s likely not what we’re going to get.”

“We have the alien stealth vessel,” Ludendorff said. “It clearly has transfer capabilities. Maybe we could use that to our advantage.”

Maddox stared at Ludendorff. “Could you find and learn how to use the transfer tech fast enough?”

Ludendorff grinned. “It’s always up to the professor, eh? Very well, I’ll go there if you’ll come with me.”

“Certainly,” Maddox said.

“Good,” Ludendorff said. “Galyan, keep explaining this to me while we head for the hangar bay. Captain, I think we’d better get to the stealth ship at once. If I’m correct, the Liss mass-mind is going to make its move soon.”

“Right,” Maddox said. “Riker, go the professor’s lab. Grab the headbands. Are they still there, Professor?”

“They are indeed,” Ludendorff said. “And I agree. Once we figure out the transfer technology—”

Maddox was up out of the command chair, reached Ludendorff and grabbed an arm. “No more chitchat, Professor. Let’s go!”

-10-

Becker was only vaguely aware of what was happening to him. He’d raced to the local spaceport and found an ace to pilot his jumpfighter. They’d launched, rocketing for orbital space. Once they’d reached it, the jumpfighter had folded to the Alexander.

The fold was the problem. The drug Becker had injected, or the process of the fold itself, had affected his big brain. He’d never folded before with his enlarged cranium and even larger, denser brain. The process was nauseating and pulse-pounding.

“Please, sir,” said an Alexander-based nurse, a beefy man. “You must relax.”

“The captain, I must speak to the—” Becker rolled to the side and vomited onto the floor. It was the sixth time he’d done so.

“He needs an injection,” a doctor said, an older lady.

“No,” Becker gasped, “no more shots. Get me to the captain.”

“Sir,” the doctor said. “You’re in no condition—”

“This is an emergency,” Becker said, before he dry-heaved and rolled onto his back. He felt horrible. It was so damned hard to think, but he’d better think. This was it. He had to get a grip or Nostradamus would do it for him. This time, the Liss would do more than just castrate him.

“Is the shot ready?” the doctor asked the nurse.

“No!” Becker said, struggling up, trying to focus his eyes. The Medical chamber swam before him.

The beefy nurse walked toward him, holding a hypo.

“Inject yourself,” Becker snarled, glaring at the beefy nurse.

The man halted.

“What’s the problem here?” the doctor asked.

“Do it,” Becker hissed.

The nurse stared into Becker’s eyes. With a sudden jab, the man pressed the end of the hypo against his neck and injected himself.

The doctor backed away from the nurse.

“No!” Becker shouted, glaring at the doctor. “Stop!”

The doctor’s eyelids fluttered.

“Stop,” Becker repeated.

The nurse collapsed. A second later, the doctor collapsed beside him. The nurse snored heavily. The doctor had stopped breathing, her heart having stopped beating. She jerked and twitched several times before lying as still as death.

Becker slumped back on the Medical cot. He felt more drained and more disgusting than ever. That had cost him. He was too weak. The anti-jump drug, or the fold, had played havoc with his wonderfully big and heavy brain. He should have known something like this was going to screw him.

“No, no, no,” Becker whispered. He forced his eyes open. He had to get to the captain. He had to get this ship—he didn’t have an exact plan. He was going to have to play this by ear.

His stomach dry-heaved again. He trembled afterward, and he realized if he fell asleep, he would lose to Nostradamus. He couldn’t remember the other name just now.

Becker frowned. He’d used anti-jump drugs before. He’d gone through Laumer Points, which was quite similar to jumpfighter folds. So, what had really happened to his mind?

Becker, a faint voice said.

“Nostradamus,” he whispered.

You can finally hear me. Why did you leave Geneva?

Becker knew growing panic.

Have you betrayed me?

“That’s absurd. I’ve been trying to reach you. I don’t know why I couldn’t reach you.”

You’re lying. I can tell, although I can’t read all of your thoughts. You’ve grown. I’m impressed.

“You’re weaker,” Becker said.

Not so weak I couldn’t insert fog into your brain.

“You did this to me?”

I will win. I will win because I’ve prepared for every eventuality. Don’t think you fooled me. I gave you extra leash to see what you would do with it. I also tested my predictions concerning you.

Nostradamus was lying to him. The Liss cyber would never give him extra leash to do the things he’d been doing. In fact, Nostradamus should reprimand him for having these thoughts.

“What do you want me to do?” Becker asked.

Destroy Starship Victory, Nostradamus said. Use these three battleships to do it.

“Why not use the strikefighters on the Moon?” Becker asked. “Fire up the defensive batteries on the Moon, as well.”

Are you telling me my business?

“No,” Becker said. “I just don’t know why you need the battleships to do your dirty work?”

You will cease arguing with me.

“Yes, Nostradamus,” Becker said. “Would you please de-fog my mind so I can think properly?”

There was no reply.

“Nostradamus?” asked Becker.

There was nothing.

Becker concentrated. He didn’t sense the alien presence, and he did feel marginally better. He was wobbly and physically weak, but it didn’t seem as if he was going to dry-heave again. That was good. He hated vomiting, had desperately hated it as a kid.

Becker slid off the cot and exited his cell, passing medical personnel glancing at him. He went to a washbasin, scrubbed the vomit off his chin and hands, and used a damp cloth to wipe away any stains on his uniform.

Someone screamed. They must have found the dead doctor.

Becker left the wash area. A large attendant hurried after him. Becker turned.

“Excuse me? Can you explain the dead doctor?” The attendant inched closer, looking threatening.

“The doctor died of natural causes,” Becker said, dominating the other. His mental abilities were flooding back. “Tell them I’m on an emergency mission. Only I can save the planet from its coming destruction.”

The attendant’s right hand flew in front of his mouth. He turned, stumbling away, racing back to no doubt tell whoever had sent him the news.

Becker departed Medical and started for the bridge. Had Nostradamus truly fogged his brain? That meant the Liss cyber mass-mind was gathering its powers. Becker was going to have to decide whether he should throw in with his Master, or if this was still his narrowing window of opportunity for the whole ball of wax.

-11-

Ludendorff, Maddox, Meta and Riker wore battlesuits inside the stealth ship. Gravity had returned some time ago when the other ship systems had restarted.

Each battlesuit carried extra weaponry for extended fighting—not that any of them planned to fight in the stealth ship.

The idea had coalesced during the shuttle journey from Victory. Via comm, Valerie had informed them of strikefighters lifting off from the Moon bases. They were forming up, getting ready to challenge Victory, no doubt. Equally as troublesome, Luna silos were readying to launch antimatter missiles and heavy disrupter batteries were warming up.

“It’s called Fortress Luna for a reason,” Maddox had said.

“That’s why we’re racing to the stealth ship, my boy,” Ludendorff had hastened to say.

As they marched down the corridors, Maddox did some heavy thinking. Victory had Mary O’Hara aboard. He couldn’t risk her, and he couldn’t risk the dedicated crew that had served with him for so long. This was different from his other missions. Those were Star Watch fighters and defensive batteries out there. Nearby warships would join in; the attack cruisers in orbit around the Moon were already maneuvering into blocking positions.

If Maddox won, he didn’t want hundreds of destroyed strikefighters on his conscience. He didn’t want hundreds or maybe thousands of dead Star Watch personnel to account for. If he fought massed Star Watch battleships, Victory would cease to exist. Galyan would cease. After all this time, Maddox didn’t want it to go down like that.

“Galyan,” the captain said.

“Here, sir,” the holoimage said, appearing in the corridor with them.

“Listen,” Maddox told the professor, his wife and his sergeant, “we four are expendable. Meta, I wish you hadn’t come. But you did. We four are going to buy the farm in the next hour. That doesn’t have to mean the end of Victory. Galyan, you’ll inform Lieutenant Noonan that she must star-drive jump out of the system. She should go the Tau Ceti System and hook up with Cook there.”

“I am sorry, sir,” Galyan said. “But I do not understand.”

“You sorry excuse for an AI,” Ludendorff cut in. “Don’t you know what your captain is saying? We’re heading for the transfer unit. We’re taking a one-way ticket to the Moon caverns.”

“You know the location of the hidden Liss?” Galyan asked.

“I have a few guesses,” Ludendorff said.

“Why would you go yourself, Professor?” Galyan asked.

“Confound it, my boy. I love humanity. I want Star Watch and the human race to expand for eons. That means we have to destroy this Liss cyber monster. It’s wormed its way among us. I weakened it a little. Now, I’m joining the di-far for our death march to save Earth while we can.”

“I have miscalculated your personality,” Galyan said. “I am finding your action today admirable.”

“I have no doubt that’s true, my boy. I’m feeling pretty good about myself today, too. This is a new feeling. High nobility: I think it suits me just fine.”

“We haven’t done a damn thing yet,” Riker growled. “Are you sure you know how to use the transfer tech?”

“Don’t need to know,” Ludendorff said. “I’ll figure it out on the spot.”

“That’s just great,” Riker muttered.

“Enough,” Maddox said. “Professor, I want you to be one hundred percent sure about the alien cavern.”

“Can’t, my boy, as such a thing is impossible at this point. I’ll have to give it my best shot. But don’t worry, my best is superlative.”

“I don’t see why we don’t just transfer antimatter bombs through,” Riker said.

“Lives,” Maddox said. “I’m not wiping out Fortress Luna to save our lives. We’re Star Watch people. We’ll go in there ourselves and get the job done.”

“Bravo,” Ludendorff said.

“What’s gotten into you, Professor?” Meta asked.

The professor shrugged his battlesuited shoulders, and then he found himself saying, “The Bosk hitmen almost killed Dana. She’s gravely hurt, and it happened because of the Liss monster hiding in our Moon. I want to kill it myself for Dana. I’ve wanted that ever since leaving the Brahma System. This is personal.”

“You finally told us the truth,” Riker said. “That must have been hard for you.”

“As the captain is fond of saying,” Ludendorff replied, “there’s no more time for chitchat. This is the chamber, I’m sure of it.” The professor pointed.

Maddox used his battlesuit’s exoskeleton power, kicking the metal hatch, after three hammer blows, causing it to rip out and fly back.

“Careful, my boy, you’ll ruin the equipment.”

Maddox poked his head in, shining his helmet lamp. The metal hatch had sailed over massed equipment to spear into a bulkhead, impaling itself there.

“Maybe I’m too old to understand these kinds of things,” Riker said.

Ludendorff hurried into the chamber, heading to what looked like the main control panel.

“But how is this thing going to solve all our problems?” the sergeant finished.

“You know the warriors and my grandmother used an arch to transfer back to this ship,” Maddox said.

“I was briefed,” Riker said.

“There was a second report, an earlier story,” Ludendorff said. “Galyan discovered it while hacking Star Watch computers. Similar warriors used a portal to appear in the Ardennes Forest, trying to kidnap Captain Becker.”

Riker’s battlesuit stood as if frozen. “So why didn’t these guys use a portal to grab the Iron Lady from the East Antarctica center?”

Ludendorff had already begun manipulating the main panel, turning on the equipment. “Good question, Sergeant. I’ve been asking myself that ever since studying Galyan’s findings. I suspect it has to do with the ship’s stealth field. Use the outright transfer tech, with the midair portal, and the stealth ship becomes visible. I imagine the ship could only project the midair portal a short distance away from itself. Use the transfer tech with the arch, and the stealth field can keep the ship invisible, and maybe they can transfer farther from the ship that way. Consider. Star Watch guarded the East Antarctica facility heavily. They would have immediately stopped a visible alien vessel. The first time, I suspect the stealth ship had landed somewhere near in the Ardennes, hiding in the forest, so to speak, when it used a midair portal.”

“You sure that’s the reason?” asked Riker.

“I give that a seventy-five percent probability,” Ludendorff said. “There could be a different answer, one I’m not presently seeing.”

Riker grunted.

“Satisfied?” asked Maddox.

“No,” Riker said. “But at least that sounds plausible. You spoke about a short range using the midair portal. We’re going to have to get awfully close to the Moon to employ it then.”

Ludendorff’s battlesuit straightened. “Confound you, Sergeant. Your negativity is driving me crazy.”

“Is he right?” asked Maddox.

“Up to a point,” the professor said, as he studied the main panel, pressing a switch here and then there. “We must move closer to the Moon, but not as close as one might think. I can extend the midair portal range to a degree by hotshotting the equipment. That will burn it out, though, meaning there will be no transfer off the Moon for us.”

“That changes nothing,” Maddox said. “We’ll pilot the stealth ship closer to the Moon. Can you regenerate its stealth field?”

“Just for once,” Ludendorff said, “I’d like our plans to work smoothly, like clockwork, instead of all these problems popping up. Can you pilot the ship, Captain?”

“I’m on my way to the bridge,” Maddox said, his battlesuit already picking up speed as he headed for the exit.

-12-

On Battleship Alexander, Becker made his choice. It was obvious once he thought about it long enough. The race to the bridge had given him the time. Nostradamus would never trust him after this. The Liss cyber mass-mind would surely study him in detail and at its leisure once this episode was over, once Earth obeyed its new master.

That meant this was his closing window of opportunity. He had to grab it with both hands and give it a shot. Nothing else made any sense.

Thus, upon reaching the bridge, Becker strode in importantly. “Captain Henderson, I’d like a word with you in your ready room.”

The bridge personnel had whirled around at his entrance. He could sense their thoughts concerning his overlarge cranium. He hadn’t taken his concealing hat, which might have been a mistake. He didn’t radiate at them, saving his semi-exhausted mental energies. He’d used up too much these last few hours. Just like a biceps muscle, a brain could strain and pull if overworked.

“Captain Henderson,” Becker said.

Reluctantly, the big captain stood, regarding him. “You’re the special envoy from HQ?”

Becker headed for the ready room. He had to brazen out the moment. Once he had Henderson alone—

The captain sighed. “This is a strange day. Lieutenant, you have the bridge.”

“Yes, sir,” said an equally big but younger man.

Becker paused, letting Henderson enter the ready room first. He followed, and the hatch switched shut behind him.

Henderson turned around immediately. “What’s this all about? Follow Victory. Drop back from Victory. Wait for it. Well, has command made up its damned mind?”

“Sit, please, Captain.”

“No,” Henderson said. “I’m frustrated, and I want some answers. Who are you anyway? I’ve never heard of you or—”

Becker opened his eyes wide and let his domination power flow out of him. He was reaching for the bottom of the barrel, though. He thought he’d had more power left.

“What’s your problem?” Henderson demanded. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You must listen to me, Captain,” Becker said. He summoned his domination powers, and when that didn’t work, he remembered all the abuse he’d taken by lug-heads like Henderson. Becker let himself get mad, and that gave him more oomph.

Henderson raised a hand, curling the fingers into a fist. “I ought to… I ought to belt you a good one.” He took a step closer.

Becker held it together, even though he flinched. If this failed—the Prime Saa neutered me. I’m never having a babe again. Get mad, you son of a bitch. Don’t let the bullies push you around anymore.

“No,” Becker said between clenched teeth. He shoved forward, staring up at the bigger man. “You listen to me, Captain. Are you listening?”

Captain Henderson licked his lips. He strained to shake his fist. He knew something weird was going on with this bigheaded freak. He ought to belt him in the face and show him who was boss. And yet…Becker seemed to grow in stature and intensity. There was something about the eyes, hypnotically powerful eyes that invaded his mind and will. This couldn’t be happening…

Henderson blinked, and his head began hurting.

“Sit down,” Becker said.

Henderson hesitated and then abruptly sat down on the carpet.

Becker towered over the big lug. “That’s better, much, much better, Captain. You’re going to do exactly what I tell you. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Henderson said slowly.

“No matter how odd the command sounds, you will obey me. In fact, you’re going to shoot anyone who questions my orders. You’re going to tell them this is direct from the Lord High Admiral. This is the most important mission in Star Watch, and you’re going to command it. After this is done, you’re going to become the new Lord High Admiral.”

Henderson was smiling now, with a stupid look on his blocky face.

“One more thing,” Becker said. He stopped talking, as he sensed the alien presence of the Prime Saa.

I see. You know, then. Yes. This is all starting to make more sense. How did you uncover my true identity?

Becker stood frozen. He’d used up too much getting control of Henderson. He had too little to block the Prime Saa.

Yes, yes, I see that, too. Oh, you have been a busy little worm, haven’t you, Captain?

“I…” Becker said, before his mouth froze and he could no longer speak.

It’s a good thing I came back for a quick checkup. Maddox and his crew have been busy. I sense they have found the one troubling avenue to… Well, that’s unimportant to you, Becker. I knew something was amiss in you, but I let you run free. Do you know why?

In slow motion, Becker shook his head.

Mental domination implies free will to enforce your will upon another. I had to let you run free. But after seeing all this in your mind… No. Your days of thinking for yourself are over. I waited, watching you dominate Captain Henderson. Now, you’re going to order the captain to begin an immediate attack upon Victory. It’s time to destroy the meddlesome starship. I—Becker, did you hear me?

Becker nodded slowly.

Then give the order. I have better things to do than watch to see that you obey me.

“Captain,” Becker said.

Henderson looked at him.

“You will destroy Starship Victory. You will tell the other battleships to join in the assault. Do you comprehend?”

“I do,” Henderson said slowly.

“Then go,” Becker said. “I will stay here for a time.”

Henderson stood up robotically, passing Becker, soon exiting the ready room.

Oh, very good, Becker. I applaud you. Now, you shall sleep and await my judgment upon you.

“M-Master,” Becker pleaded.

Sleep!

Becker’s eyelids fluttered, and he slumped upon the carpet, fast asleep.

-13-

Maddox was on the bridge, flying the alien stealth ship at the Moon. He stood in his battlesuit, gently tapping controls. The ship lacked its stealth field, although the hull was deep black. It lacked weapons control and—

A klaxon began to blare.

Maddox looked up at the main screen. Strikefighters were racing from the Moon. They were presently 150,000 kilometers and closing. So far, no jumpfighters had appeared nearer. That was good news. The attack cruisers were breaking orbit and starting to accelerate. No doubt, they would unleash their weaponry once the strikefighters were in range.

Maddox manipulated the sensor board. It showed the three Conqueror-class battleships led by the Alexander. They were 50,000 kilometers from Victory.

Why weren’t they firing yet?

Maybe Valerie was using his tactics to talk Captain Henderson down, or to delay him.

It would be good to defeat an alien menace without losing battleships and other needed Star Watch vessels. This kind of attack from within was the worst, like a civil war. Star Watch took all the casualties.

“Sir,” Galyan said.

Maddox spotted the little holoimage beside him.

“The professor sent me. You must return to the transfer chamber. He is almost ready.”

“He can create a portal over one hundred and fifty thousand kilometers away?”

“Apparently so, although by his hints, the process might destroy the entire stealth vessel.”

Maddox ingested that, nodding. “Galyan, is Valerie getting ready to use the star-drive?”

“Not yet, sir. She is giving you cover from the battleships. I will tell her it is okay to jump once you have transferred.”

“No,” Maddox said. “Tell Valerie to jump now.”

“Very well, I will tell her, but she is stubborn, sir. I do not think she is going to listen to me in this. She and the crew are willing to die to give you a chance to free Earth from the Liss.”

Maddox looked up at the main screen. Jumpfighters were appearing nearby. The captain swore softly.

“Can you give me weaponry, Galyan?”

A jumpfighter exploded as a purple neutron beam struck it. At the same time, a yellow disrupter beam destroyed another.

“Go to the transfer chamber, sir,” Galyan said.

Maddox clicked a sensor control. On the main screen, he saw the Alexander and her sister ships readying their disruptor cannons.

“Sir,” Galyan said. “You will miss the final confrontation against the Liss if you do not run to the transfer chamber.”

Maddox tore his gaze from the main screen, heading for the exit, starting to run. “You tell Valerie if she loses my starship, I’ll make her wish she’d listened to me.”

“She would be dead in that case,” Galyan said. “Good-bye, sir, and good luck. May we meet again in this life.”

“Good-bye, Galyan,” Maddox said, before giving all his concentration to racing through the stealth ship’s corridors.

-14-

On Victory Valerie sat in the captain’s chair. She snapped off orders like a professional because that was exactly what she had become. Her years under Maddox’s service, watching him and having opportunities to practice when he left on a sortie had turned her into one of the best fighting officers in Star Watch. That expertise was under severe testing this moment.

The three Conqueror-class battleships had commenced firing their heavy disrupter cannons. The heavy supermetal components in the cannons allowed a hotter, larger beam. The three heavy yellow beams chewed into Victory’s electromagnetic shield. They had already turned it brown, heading for black.

“Fire,” Valerie said. It did not come out as a shout, as it would have in the old days. It was a controlled order as taught her by Maddox.

The neutron and disrupter cannons scored more hits, destroying the last Moon-based jumpfighter near the alien stealth ship.

From the Moon, masses of strikefighters flew at the stealth ship, but they were still one hundred thousand kilometers out. Likely, the reason why no strikefighter or jumpfighter launched antimatter missiles was the same reason the battleships had refrained. No one wanted to unleash that kind of radioactive firepower this near Earth if they didn’t have to.

For just that reason, Valerie wasn’t going to use antimatter missiles, either.

“Lieutenant,” Andros said from his science station, “the shield is starting to buckle.”

“Give me another minute,” Valerie said.

Andros shook his head even as his pudgy fingers flew over his board. “That’s impossible, sir. The heavy beams will chew through by then. You must jump if we’re going to jump.”

Valerie turned pale as she stared at the screen. “I can’t jump. They’ll destroy the stealth ship the second we do.”

“Captain’s orders,” Keith shouted from Helm.

“I know very well what he ordered,” Valerie said, before catching herself. “Do you have any ideas, Helm?”

Keith shot her a look. “Finally, someone wants my advice, and the only thing I can offer is that we run away as ordered. We’re all dead if we don’t do that.”

“What about the Liss?” Valerie asked.

“Right,” Keith said. “We could jump onto the other side of the Moon. We start blasting with antimatter missiles the moment we appear.”

“The Moon batteries would destroy us before we got our shield back up,” Valerie said.

“Lieutenant,” Andros said. “We have to jump now, or you can forget it.”

Valerie chewed on a knuckle. This had to be the hardest decision of her life—

“Valerie,” Galyan said, as he appeared. “The others have successfully used the transfer mechanism.”

“Jump,” Valerie told Keith. “Jump as far as possible.”

“I’m on it,” Keith said, manipulating his board with supple fingers.

“Can they do it, Galyan?” Valerie asked.

“I hope so,” Galyan said. “Maybe you should pray for them.”

Valerie nodded.

“Help them, please, God,” Andros said from his station. “And help us, too, please. Amen.”

“Amen,” Galyan said.

Valerie gnawed even harder on her knuckle. Would she ever see Captain Maddox, Meta, Riker and that old scoundrel Ludendorff again? She couldn’t believe it had come to this.

“Our shield is collapsing,” Andros said. “We didn’t jump in time.”

“Screw that, mate,” Keith said, punching in orders.

The black electromagnetic shield collapsed. The heavy beams from the three battleships struck Victory’s outer hull armor. At that point, the star-drive jump kicked in. Victory jumped out of danger, fleeing the area between the Earth and Moon, and fleeing the Solar System altogether.

***

On Battleship Alexander, Captain Henderson sat stunned on his command seat. He stared at the main screen. “The starship is gone,” he said.

“The alien stealth vessel is still there,” his XO said.

“Right,” Henderson said. “Target it. Blow it up.”

The Alexander’s heavy disruptor cannon retargeted. Eight seconds later, a deep yellow beam reached out, touching the stealth ship. The great beam smashed through the black hull. It—the stealth ship exploded, the antimatter droplet touching the matter. And the fissionable explosives in the alien ship also ignited. That produced a massive whiteout on every nearby sensor.

Unfortunately, the EMP, heat and radiation expanded. It did no harm to the heavily shielded and armored battleships, but half the strikefighters perished along with their pilots. The rest of the strikefighters—many of them began to drift.

Star Watch had won the short battle between Earth and the Moon, and the casualties were small in the scheme of things. But the real fight for Earth’s soul had just begun.

-15-

Four Space Marine battlesuits clanked down a large Moon corridor. The gravity was heavier here than Luna normal, which meant grav generators were hard at work providing the greater pull.

The professor had figured out the midair portal mechanism, said he’d seen one like this before somewhere, but forgot the time and place. He’d hotshotted the mechanism to extreme distance. A portal had opened. As the machines in the chamber had hummed and sparked, Maddox led the way. Meta followed and Riker brought up the rear.

“Wait,” Ludendorff had radioed, but none of them had heard, as they had already reached their destination inside the Moon. After the professor stumbled through the portal in his battlesuit, an explosion on the bridge sent a blast of fire through the portal. Then it had closed with a snap.

Maddox and Meta had picked up Ludendorff’s battlesuit.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” the professor had said from within. After standing, he’d projected their targeted corridor onto their HUDs.

Now, in his battlesuit, Maddox studied his HUD sensors. There was movement ahead of them down the corridor and around a corner. Red dots blinked. The people and red dots halted, as if…

“Are you reading that, sir,” Riker asked through the short-link comm.

“What are the red dots?” asked Maddox.

“Heavy flamers, sir,” Riker said. “They’re mobile plasma weapons. They’re experimental, I hear. Good for about one shot every five minutes.”

Hot plasma could take down a Space Marine battlesuit. That was a good choice on their part. But… “The HUD sensors show the enemy is wearing spacesuits instead of battlesuits,” Maddox said.

“My guess is they’re Bosk servitors,” Ludendorff said. “They’ve probably never trained with battlesuits.”

Inside his helmet, Maddox smiled like a wolf. With the sensors, he computed distance, the HUD showing the curvature of the corridor.

“Help me unpack, Sergeant,” Maddox said. “You two, watch our rear.”

In their battlesuits, Meta and Ludendorff turned, as their arm-cannons aimed down the corridor the way they had come.

Riker pulled a pack from the captain’s battlesuit and slapped the left shoulder.

Maddox turned, and he and Riker unpacked the box, revealing a thick missile the length of a man with the thickness of a torso. They set the missile on a tripod mount.

Through his suit, Maddox punched the data into the brilliant missile. If this didn’t work—

“Ready to launch,” Riker said.

“Are you ready to advance?” Maddox asked.

“Roger that,” Riker said.

“Meta, Ludendorff, anything?” asked Maddox.

“Nothing so far,” Meta said.

“Here’s goes,” Maddox said. He clicked a control.

The back of the brilliant missile glowed and hissed, launching from the tripod. It sped down the corridor, turning the corner and disappearing from view.

Maddox clicked on a HUD view. He saw from the missile’s nosecone camera. The scene changed rapidly as the brilliant missile negotiated another corner. Then, a line of space-suited individuals behind heavy tripod box-cannons showed up. One of them pressed a switch. A box vent opened, and an orange glob of heated plasma expelled from the orifice, billowing toward the brilliant missile.

The missile rose, sped up and ignited its warhead a microsecond before the heat from the plasma destroyed its casing.

Maddox’s HUD view vanished.

In the tunnel ahead, everything turned bright.

“Lie down,” Ludendorff radioed.

All four battlesuits complied. Seconds later, a gush of heat, EMP and radiation blew over the four.

“Get up,” Maddox said, as he climbed to his feet.

No one listened. Communications might be out. He went to each, kicking them lightly in the side. One by one, Meta, Riker and Ludendorff got up. Maddox pointed toward the glowing hall. The other three nodded.

They continued clanking, making the turns, soon seeing the melted and blasted rock sides. They reached a glowing hot area next. No spacesuits were in evidence. None of the occupants would have survived the plasma explosions.

Maddox heard a crackle in his ears. A second later—

“Can you hear me?” Ludendorff asked.

Maddox nodded his helmet.

“We’re taking heavy doses of radiation,” the professor said.

Maddox shrugged. He wasn’t sure any of them were going to survive this. He kept moving even though he started to feel queasy. Was that the heavy radiation? Likely it was. He’d always known he was going to die in battle. Live by the sword; die by the sword. That had been all right, as it would be a soldier’s death.

“Wait,” Ludendorff said. “Something’s happening. I wonder if we took a wrong turn.”

Maddox faced the professor. He fiddled with his comm control. “Can you hear me?”

“I can, I can,” Ludendorff said.

“What wrong turn?”

“This feels false,” the professor said. “I think there was a secret entrance we missed.”

Maddox tried a long-range sensor sweep ahead. He got nothing. Wait. His unit beeped. He studied it— “There’s an army heading for us,” he said. “They’re wearing spacesuits. I think you’re right, Professor. They wouldn’t be marching for us unless—go back. Find me the secret entrance.”

“You can count on me, my boy. This is one fight I’m going to see to the finish, pulling the trigger myself.”

“Less talk, more do,” Maddox said.

They turned, heading back. Maddox kept looking and running a sensor sweep. They seemed to be staying ahead of the small army heading down the corridor after them.

They passed the glow-area, the heavy radiation—

“There,” Ludendorff said over a crackling comm unit. “It looks like an alcove. That must be where it is.”

The four went there, but it was burnt wall and nothing else.

“This has to be the place,” Ludendorff said.

Meta’s battlesuit stopped, and she began smashing the floor with a heavy boot. Her suited foot made a different noise at one spot on the floor.

Ludendorff was on his knees, searching—he pressed an area of stone. An area dilated open. There were stairs leading down.

“Bingo,” the professor said. Before anyone could stop him, he began descending.

The secret way started dilating shut. Meta was faster, stomping at it with her exoskeleton-added strength. She smashed it into smithereens. Afterward, she looked up at Maddox.

“Follow him,” Maddox said. “The small army is running after us now. I think the Liss controls them. This shows we’re on the right track, as the Liss monster must be getting worried. Go. Keep the Methuselah Man in your sights at all times.”

Meta raced down the stone steps. Riker followed, and this time Maddox brought up the rear. He would have liked to set a booby-trap for the others, but he was sure the four of them didn’t have the time. The clock was ticking, and they had to reach the Liss caverns now.

-16-

The steps went down farther than Maddox liked. Who had built them? Clearly, someone had hewn them out of Luna stone. It reminded him too much of the stairs Becker had descended years ago on Jarnevon, as shown by the Ur-Builder Viewer on Estar in the Erill System.

At last, they left the stone stairs to hustle through a cavern deep under the Moon’s surface. Maddox looked back. His sensors…he heard men and possibly women descending after them. There was atmosphere in these caverns, as his sensors felt the noise vibrations.

This time, he called Riker. They set up a pop-up mine. A hundred and ten meters later, they set up another one. If these were regular people, they would slow down and take more care. If Nostradamus drove them, more would die, whittling down the enemy force.

The four continued marching and Ludendorff continued leading. If the Methuselah Man knew something they didn’t…

Maddox became alert. Ludendorff was slowing down. He used the short-link. “Is everything all right, Professor?”

Ludendorff didn’t answer.

“Professor,” Maddox said. “Can you hear me?”

“You don’t have to shout,” Ludendorff complained.

Maddox cocked his head. The Methuselah Man sounded strained. “What’s wrong?”

“Not a damned thing,” Ludendorff panted. “Leave me alone.”

They marched, turning a corner.

“Sir,” Riker said. “Do you feel more resistance than usual?”

“I…I suppose I do,” Maddox said, only now becoming aware of it. “Do you know what’s happening?”

“My battlesuit servos are straining,” Riker said.

That caused Maddox to monitor his. This wasn’t good. His servos strained to move the two-ton battlesuit. That would indicate what, exactly?

“There’s extra gravitational pull in our locale,” Ludendorff complained. “Logically, that must mean we’re almost to the central cavern. Aha. It makes perfect sense, a heavy gravitational belt to protect its lair from intruders.”

Maddox thought about that. “As long as our servos don’t burn out, we’ll be okay.”

“Not true,” Ludendorff panted, “as the servos don’t do all the work. They’re part of the exoskeleton machine that amplifies the power of your muscles. That’s why you and your wife feel it less. That’s why Riker felt it sooner than you.”

The four battlesuits continued marching as their occupants struggled against the increased gravity.

“Confound it,” Ludendorff said. “I’m not going to let extra gravitational pull stop me from gaining satisfaction from the Liss. I must kill it, Captain. I must pull the trigger.”

“As long as it dies,” Maddox said. “That’s all that matters.”

“No!” Ludendorff shouted over the short-link. “I promised Dana I would kill the monster. I swore it. It was the critical condition for me leaving her as she was. You must understand what I’m saying.”

“I do,” Meta said. “Keep going, Professor. We’ll be through this soon.”

“Oh, how I wish I could believe that,” Ludendorff complained. “I always figure out how to do a thing, but the captain gets the pleasure of the kill. This time, I demand that pleasure for me. I must be able to tell Dana how I did it, how it felt to kill the monster that crippled her.”

“Take it easy, Professor,” Riker said.

“I will not take it easy. I did not come all this way to have a surly sergeant to tell me to take it easy. I have to do this. I swore I would.”

The professor’s raspy breath and complaints had become annoying to Maddox. He turned down volume in his helmet so he wouldn’t hear them as loudly.

Ludendorff’s battlesuit slowed more. Despite his bionic parts, Riker was obviously struggling. Meta made deliberate steps. Even Maddox found the going harder. His servos were making far too many stress noises as warning signals began to appear on his HUD. Would the Liss beat them through a tough gravitational belt? How many Gs pulled down on them anyway?

“Maybe you had a point earlier, Sergeant,” Maddox said. “Maybe we should have just pushed an antimatter bomb through the portal.”

“No, no, no,” Ludendorff wheezed. “Can’t you see, you oaf? The hidden lair is much deeper than I was able to detect. We reached the outer entrance. These corridors all ramp down. Oh. I’m so tired. My muscles ache. I’m afraid I’m going to pull one of them.”

“You’d better wait here, Professor,” Maddox said.

In his battlesuit, the Methuselah Man turned, raising his arm-cannon. “I’ll kill you before I let you go ahead of me. I have to be there for the kill. I’ve repeatedly told you that. Don’t you understand?”

“What do you want more,” Maddox asked, “kill the thing yourself or save humanity?”

“Both,” Ludendorff panted. “I want both. I want to be the hero this time. I’m tired of watching from the sidelines. I’ve earned this one.”

“Husband,” Meta said. “We must help him.”

Maddox stared at his wife’s battlesuit.

“The Professor’s right,” Meta said. “We must carry him if that’s what it comes down to.”

“To tickle his vanity?” Maddox asked.

“Please,” Meta said. “I don’t ask for much. But I do ask for this. Help me. Ludendorff often supplies the old knowledge. We’re younger, more fit. Let’s help him as he has so often helped us.”

“I just want to kill the Liss monster,” Maddox said. “I want to save humanity from it.”

“I know,” Meta said. “Let the professor share in your glory.”

“No, no,” Ludendorff wheezed. “I’m not sharing anything. I have to kill the monster. I should have foreseen this.”

Maddox clanked to the professor’s battlesuit. He was tired of the whining, and maybe this would help in the future—if any of them had a future. Meta had a point. Ludendorff carried grudges forever. This might help, and maybe the old codger had earned the right.

“Meta,” Maddox said. “Hurry up. We don’t have all day.”

She clanked onto the other side of the professor’s battlesuit, gripping the other arm.

“Heave,” Maddox said. “And keep trying, Professor. Your suit is too heavy for the two of us to carry it ourselves.”

Over the short-link, Ludendorff grunted.

“I’ll stay here,” Riker said over the link. “If enemy reinforcements show up, I’ll give them a what-for for hunkering down.”

“Good luck, Sergeant,” Maddox said.

“You, too, sir,” Riker said. “You do this and come and pick me up.”

“Right,” Maddox said.

Now began a grueling session for the three of them. Ludendorff was physically spent. He wheezed, sweated and worked his overtaxed old muscles. Meta and Maddox were stronger and younger, but they now carried much of the Methuselah Man’s burden. The three huge two-ton suits began to smoke as the servos began reaching their operational limits.

“I’m out of water,” Ludendorff said. “I should have stocked more. I’m so damnably parched. I can hardly swallow.”

“Should we leave you here?” asked Maddox.

“No,” Ludendorff pleaded. “I’m this far. Surely, the grav-belt must end soon. The central cavern can’t be that much farther.”

“Just how smart is this mass mind?” asked Meta. “Could it have foreseen this day?”

“That isn’t how it would operate,” Ludendorff said in a wheezing voice. “It would have parameters, odds and possibilities…” Ludendorff quit talking. Surely, he was using every ounce of his fabulous willpower to force himself to keep moving another step. Maybe his vision swam.

“Do you feel that?” Maddox said over the short-link.

“I do,” Meta said. “The gravity is lessening. And…I keep hearing whispering voices calling to me.”

“Don’t listen to them,” Ludendorff warned. “The headbands we wear are like the servos. They amplify your native mental strength. Perhaps now you should stay behind. The Liss mass-mind might well overpower your will even while you wear my anti-domination headband.”

“What do you think I should do, darling?” Meta asked.

“You’re staying with me,” Maddox said. “It’s killing time, and I want you where I can see you. Now, move on your own steam, Professor. If you want to be the hero, you’re going to have to do this yourself.”

So saying, Maddox released Ludendorff’s battlesuit. Then, he clanked for the next corner, realizing he was almost to the central cavern. He could hear a whispering voice trying to gain his attention. He wasn’t going to listen, though. He was going to kill.

-17-

In their battlesuits, Maddox and Meta walked together, their helmet lamps washing over an enlarging Luna cavern. Ludendorff followed, limping with his left battlesuit leg. He’d pulled one of his old muscles straining against the terrible gravity.

There was a whispering voice pecking for Maddox’s attention. It wanted him to listen, but he refused. The voice was becoming more urgent, however.

“Maddox,” his wife said. “Maybe we should talk to the Liss. It’s a unique creature. It could help us against Lisa Meyers and against other dangers waiting for humanity.”

Maddox heard something else in her voice, a different note. The Liss—the Prime Saa—must have broken through her amplified-headband-strengthened mind. Or it was in the process of doing so. Would the Liss force him to shoot his wife?

It might come to that.

Maddox halted. His wife halted, and Ludendorff struggled to limp near.

“Meta, the Liss is trying to gain control of our minds,” Maddox said.

“I know,” she said. “I want to resist. He makes an awful lot of sense, though.”

“Start powering down your suit,” Maddox told her.

“I-I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Meta said.

Maddox hesitated. He couldn’t shoot Meta. If the Liss monster controlled her— “Resist the alien. You can do this. You must.”

“I want to, my darling. But…”

Ludendorff limped closer yet. He was fiddling with his battlesuit. Maybe he wanted to inject himself with stims.

“Darling,” Meta said through the short-link. “I can’t let you destroy the Liss. It holds the key to our future. It—”

Ludendorff limped beside Meta, and with his right battlesuited arm, he slapped a beeping unit against her suit. It discharged immediately, overloading the main power pack. Meta’s battlesuit systems began shutting down, including her armory, but not her life support. The short-link shorted, cutting communications with her.

“I had to do it,” Ludendorff said. “If you must know, I’ve been saving that little pack to use on you. I only have one, though. So, I can no longer short your suit and do the rest myself.”

“Why would you have wanted to?” Maddox asked.

“So I do the killing. Now, though, that damned alien monster is speaking at me, trying to break down my will. It’s hammering, Maddox. I can feel my will slipping. You have to run and save the day again.”

Maddox peered down the dark cavern before turning and studying Ludendorff. The Liss mass-mind had mental powers and in retaliation might use them to cause Meta to kill herself. But if he brought Ludendorff along with him, the mass-mind might keep hammering at the Methuselah Man instead, seeing that as its best chance for survival.

“Professor, you keep fighting it, and you keep walking. You’re coming with me.”

Maddox went to Ludendorff and put one of the Methuselah Man’s battlesuited arms over his battlesuit shoulders. Then, Maddox put an arm around Ludendorff’s waist and started moving fast, bringing the professor with him.

You can’t win, Captain.

Maddox laughed like a maddened creature. “Come at me if you want. I can take anything you can dish out.”

With its fantastic united domination power, the Prime Saa smashed against the captain’s puny mind. The vast massed will bore down with crushing force.

The headband around Maddox’s head became warm as the attached bulb pulsed and pulsed again. He might have succumbed. The massed Liss cybers had inconceivable mind weight. But the extra spiritual strength of the slain Erill fortified Maddox’s will. He would not obey the alien mass-mind. He might shatter and die, but he would never become its slave.

Maddox forced a laugh. “You call that trying? My grandmother could hit me harder than that.”

I sense your cunning, but it won’t work against me. The professor is weaker-willed than you.

“Professor,” Maddox said over the link. “The thing is calling you a puss. It’s bragging how it’s going to dominate you because it can’t dominate me.”

“Never,” the professor hissed.

“Remember Dana,” Maddox said. “The Liss sent the hitmen against you but they crippled your woman. Resist the mass-mind long enough and you can pay it back for that.”

“Yes,” the professor panted. “I want that. I want that more than anything else in the world. You will not dominate me!” he shouted. “I am Professor Ludendorff. I’m the avenging Methuselah Man!”

Like two men in a three-legged race, the Space Marine battlesuits charged around a corner and faced a massive cavern. The twin helmet beams washed upon an obscene sight.

Hundreds of long, low, off-white machines centipede-crawled over each other. The cybers exuded an oily substance and exchanged parts with each other. In such a manner, the Liss cybers generated the dominating force, a force that would eventually control a world. The creatures—part exoskeleton, part machine and part alien bio-matter—rose up like huge snakes. They turned to peer at Maddox and Ludendorff.

We can give you the galaxy.

Maddox pulled his right armored arm back from helping the professor. The professor’s left armored arm slid off the captain’s shoulders.

“Are you ready?” Maddox asked.

“I’ve always wanted to be in on the final kill,” Ludendorff said.

“On my count,” Maddox said.

“Yes,” the professor said.

I am one of a kind, the Prime Saa said. I am unique. Killing me deprives the galaxy of my vast knowledge. I know what is coming to haunt Human Space.

“One,” Maddox said.

You don’t know what you’re doing. I can tell you what Methuselah Woman Lisa Meyers’ next move against Star Watch will be.

“Two,” Maddox said.

This is an outrage against higher knowledge. I can explain in detail why I had Lord High Admiral Fletcher sent you to Estar, to the City of Pyramids.

“Three,” Maddox said.

Wait, wait, the Prime Saa said. I’ll tell you why I made Becker. He’s critical to my greater plans. If you only knew what he could do.

“What can he do?” Maddox asked.

The Prime Saa told them.

“Oh,” Maddox said. “That’s interesting. What do you think, Professor? Should we let the Liss cybers live now?”

Ludendorff’s helmet cocked as if he was thinking. “Nah,” he said. “I don’t think so.”

Fools, the Prime Saa told them. I merely played for time. This will be my mightiest mind bolt yet.

Maddox and Ludendorff opened fire with their arm cannons. Heavy shells smashed into the nearest cyber machines, exploding, ripping those machines into pieces.

At the same time, domination power swept against the two minds.

Maddox snarled. Ludendorff groaned. But both battlesuits continued chugging out shells. The ordnance plowed through insect-exoskeleton machine-frames and blew up mass geysers of thick, grasshopper-like goop. Instinctively, Ludendorff went left from the first kills and Maddox went right. Their arm-cannons fired one shell after another as more explosions tore the Liss cyber machines into junk.

The mass-mind domination assault against the two men weakened, and then quit altogether. The remaining machine creatures from Jarnevon began crawling at the towering Space Marines.

“Direct grenade launches,” Maddox said through the short-link.

“Roger that,” Ludendorff said.

On both suits, launcher rails poked up and over each right armored shoulder. Grenades flew from the rails, landing among the crawling machine-creatures. Explosion upon explosion tore the mass into goop, exoskeleton and flying computer pieces.

“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 black, 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 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 side 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.”

“Not anymore,” Henderson said. “I have direct orders.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe,” Henderson said.

“Lunar Command will fire on you unless you give me confirmation.”

“Bah,” Henderson said. “They’re shutting down and sending out the rescue shuttles. But…maybe it’s better you know. The Supremacy told us.”

“The Lord High Admiral?” asked Maddox.

“No!” Henderson said, slamming a fist on an armrest. “I told you, His Supremacy.”

“The Lord High Admiral runs Star Watch.”

“His Supremacy runs the Alexander,” Henderson shouted.

Underneath the senso-mask, a grim smile spread on Maddox’s face as he put two and two together. “What did His Supremacy order you to do on the dark side of the Moon?”

“I…” Henderson frowned. “I cannot say.”

“Captain Henderson,” Maddox said. “I congratulate you on your precision regarding secret orders. Once you have fulfilled your first duty, you will have a second. I suppose you don’t know about that yet.”

“What second duty?”

“If you don’t know, I must speak to His Supremacy.”

“Impossible,” Henderson said. “He is asleep until we reach the dark side of the Moon. He needed some rest.”

“Right,” Maddox said. “We mustn’t wake him then.”

“That would anger him,” Henderson said.

“I don’t wish that. But I do wish to follow my orders as given by His Supremacy.”

“Oh?”

“I will send a delegation to your ship—”

“You will not,” Henderson said. “No one is to enter the ready room to disturb him. No one is allowed on the bridge while he sleeps. The implication is that I must remain at my post until I wake him.”

“Bravo, Captain, you passed the test perfectly,” Maddox said. “Of course, I would never think to go onto the bridge. I know that rule as well.”

“You do?” asked Henderson.

“Do you think someone as grand as His Supremacy hasn’t given many orders?”

“I-I…of course not,” Henderson finished.

“He told me to wait aboard the Alexander until he awoke to give me further orders. Are you going to cancel his orders to us?”

“He didn’t say anything about you to me,” Henderson said.

“Of course not,” Maddox said, “because this is an ultra-secret mission. Why don’t you go wake him and ask him about it.”

“Never,” Henderson said in horror.

“I’m sending the delegation to the Alexander. They will rendezvous with your vessel before it reaches the dark side of the Moon.”

“Very well,” Henderson said grudgingly. “I will permit it.”

“Excellent,” Maddox said. “I will add that to my report to His Supremacy.” With that, Maddox cut the connection.

The others had been listening closely. Now, Ludendorff cleared his throat.

Maddox tore off the senso-mask. The heat of it had left his features sweaty. “Henderson is obviously speaking about Becker. The traitor has lost his master. That doesn’t mean he’ll give up. I’m thinking Becker has been busy dominating the crew of the Alexander.”

“How does that help us?” Ludendorff demanded. “We don’t want to enter the lion’s den.”

“I think we do,” Maddox said. “I think if we’re going to hunt down the rest of the Liss cybers still free in the Solar System, Becker will know better than anyone else where they are and how to do it.”

“But you just said he’s in control of the Alexander.”

“Henderson also told us Becker’s asleep,” Maddox said. “Why would Becker sleep at a time like this?”

“Ah,” Ludendorff said. “Logically, Becker has overtaxed himself. Nothing else makes sense.”

“Exactly,” Maddox said. “Thus, we have to strike immediately. Remember, Professor, the key in a time of chaos is to strike faster and harder than the other side. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

-22-

Maddox and the others had changed uniforms, having found new ones aboard the Class-3 black ops hauler.

The captain had known the location of the clothes locker on a black ops vessel, as the location hadn’t changed since Intelligence had been a single large organization. He wore the senso-mask, having donned a Political Intelligence Commissar General’s uniform. Riker and Meta wore PI military police uniforms, while Ludendorff wore magnetic shackles on his wrists, their “special prisoner.”

The hauler’s shuttle took off, accelerating from the dark side of the Moon and racing for the approaching Alexander.

“Despite your reasoning, this plan is too rash,” Ludendorff said. “I give it a one in ten probability of working.”

“Everything changes in a time of political chaos,” Maddox said. “I would have assumed that your extensive historical knowledge would have led you to a similar conclusion regarding the correct action at a time like this.”

“I’m a prisoner,” Ludendorff complained. “You can be the prisoner.”

“You’re better known than I am,” Maddox said blandly.

Ludendorff opened his mouth to object, but closed it, frowning. “You’re playing on my vanity saying that.”

“Nonsense,” Maddox said. “Are you better known than I am or not?”

“I suppose I am,” Ludendorff grumbled.

“There you are,” Maddox said. “Now, enough of your complaining. We’re heading in.”

The Alexander had already started decelerating, making this easier. The shuttle entered hangar bay 3 and soon touched down. As per Maddox’s earlier request, as the bay doors sealed, the Alexander’s chief political commissar and four MPs hurried from a hatch.

“Here we go,” Maddox said. “Be ready for anything.”

The four of them filed off the shuttle, with a magnetically handcuffed Ludendorff in the lead. Meta and Riker followed, their carbines aimed at the professor’s back. Maddox brought up the rear, his features hidden by the senso-mask.

The Alexander’s political commissar—a sour-faced, stoop-shouldered captain—jerked his head back in astonishment at sight of Ludendorff. He looked at Maddox. “That’s the notorious Professor Ludendorff. He’s at the top of the wanted list.”

“Precisely,” Maddox said in a modulated voice. “Why do you think I chose the Alexander?”

The captain commissar frowned. His four MPs each had holstered sidearms, two of them ready to draw. The four were steroid monsters, bruisers who looked as if they enjoyed giving pain.

The Alexander’s captain commissar shook his head. “I don’t know. This is strange to me.”

“Enough of this,” Maddox said. “Where’s your high security chamber?”

The captain commissar’s tongue darted out to touch his lips. “You have the Methuselah Man. You should have taken him to Earth.”

Maddox brushed past Meta, marching to the captain commissar, towering over the shorter man. “Are you telling me my business?”

The tongue appeared once more. “General, this is highly unusual. I’m a mere captain, true, but there are procedures for such things. I cannot understand how you captured the Methuselah Man.”

Maddox did not move. In the end, he held out his right hand and crooked the index finger.

The captain commissar slid nearer.

“Closer,” Maddox said.

The captain commissar hesitated, finally complying.

“I’ve learned of a conspiracy,” Maddox said softly. “Have you received word from Director Chom?”

The captain commissar frowned up at the senso-shielded face. It seemed as if he would ask Maddox to turn off the mask so he could see who Maddox was. Maybe the captain lost his nerve. “I have tried to reach Director Chom. There is no word from HQ concerning his whereabouts.”

“Do you know why?” asked Maddox.

The captain commissar shook his head.

Maddox meaningfully tapped a finger against his own chest.

“I don’t understand,” the captain commissar said.

“Either you are for me,” Maddox whispered. “Or you are against me.”

“Sir?”

“I’ve read your file, Captain. You’re an astute man. Surely, this is obvious to you now.”

The captain commissar tugged at his collar.  It seemed to be too tight for him. A trickle of sweat ran from his temple. “Are you Director…?”

“Yes…?” Maddox asked.

The captain commissar came to rigid attention. “What can I do for you, General?”

“We must get Ludendorff to your high security chamber, at once,” Maddox said. “That is imperative.”

“Do you mean the…?”

“I do,” Maddox said.

“Yes, General,” the captain commissar said. “Let me show you the way.” He snapped his fingers.

The four MPs drew their sidearms, turning smartly.

“On the double, if you please,” Maddox said. “Speed is critical.”

The captain commissar and his chosen MPs hurried the four of them through the ship’s corridors. Crewmembers glanced at the passing group and then looked away. No one challenged them. It appeared that no one dared. Political Intelligence had done its job well on the Alexander. Regular Star Watch personnel had learned to fear the PI commissars.

Eight minutes and thirty-two seconds later, the group filed past PI security into a sealed area of the ship. Galyan had learned earlier and passed it on to Maddox some of the new procedures that he’d uncovered regarding fleet vessels. One of them involved how a PI commissar and his military police team went about breaking any captain or regular crew-inspired conspiracies against the state. The means for doing so was in this special area of the ship.

“Take us to the monitoring chamber,” Maddox said.

The captain commissar only half lifted an eyebrow. He used a hand and smoothed the questioning eyebrow, guiding them to the most secure area of the warship.

The captain commissar indicated that the three PI monitors continue sitting at their stations. The two men and one woman watched screens, one of them including the bridge.

Meta shut the hatch behind her, clicking it locked.

“Now that we’re here, General,” the captain commissar said. “I would like to ask—”

Riker and Maddox drew stunners, stunning the three monitors and two of the MPs that had come into the chamber with the captain commissar.

“Uh-uh-uh,” Maddox said, aiming at the captain commissar. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“But, General,” the captain said, who’s right hand was on the butt of his holstered gun. “What is the meaning of this?”

Ludendorff shook off his magnetic handcuffs.

This time, the captain commissar’s eyebrows lifted high indeed.

Maddox clicked off the senso-mask.

The captain commissar groaned as he eyed Maddox.

“It’s not what you think,” Maddox said. “There is a conspiracy, an alien attempt to—”

The captain commissar shouted incoherently, drawing his sidearm.

Riker stunned him so the captain commissar crumpled onto the deck. “You weren’t going to convince him, sir. We’re going to have to do it ourselves.”

Ludendorff was already at the monitor controls. He flipped switches and manipulated the panel.

“Well?” asked Maddox.

Ludendorff shook his head. “I’m just seeing kill gas, no knockout gas.”

Maddox swore under his breath. “We’re not murderers. We—”

Ludendorff manipulated the panel again.

“He’s gassing them, sir,” Riker said.

“Stop,” Maddox said.

Ludendorff shook his head. “The bridge crew dies, Captain. There’s no other way.”

With a stricken look, Maddox gazed up at the ceiling.

Meta stepped near and touched an arm.

Ignoring her, Maddox faced the others. “Can you flush the gas?”

“I’m already doing it,” a pale-faced, shaken Ludendorff said.

Maddox glanced at the monitor bridge screen. Every officer there lay dead on the deck or at their stations. “Right,” the captain said, his voice hollow. “Speed is critical.”

“How are we going to get past the MPs outside this chamber?” Riker asked.

Ludendorff took a short breath. “I already took care of it. They’re dead, too. I gassed them and flushed the area. Even so, I suggest you hold your breath as we go through the chamber. It’s going to take all of us to do this.”

-23-

Becker snorted, shifting on the cot in the ready room. Was it time already? It felt as if he’d barely gotten to sleep.

Someone shook his shoulder.

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” Becker mumbled with his eyes closed. “Don’t do that again.”

“If you don’t jump up, I’ll kick you in the back next time.”

Becker’s eyes snapped open. He sat up to regard four—he knew these people by pictures and repute: Captain Maddox, his beautiful wife Meta, Sergeant Riker and…Professor Ludendorff?

Becker concentrated, using dominating power—

Maddox slapped him across the face.

Becker gasped, and his domination attempt faltered. Tentatively, he mentally reached out to touch their minds. He could not. Something was blocking him. That was when he noticed the headbands and the bulbs to the side.

“I don’t understand,” Becker complained. “How did you get in here? It should have been impossible.”

“You’re going to help us,” Maddox said in a cold voice. “If it was up to me, I would kill you here. But higher command wants to interrogate you.”

“You’re lying,” Becker said.

“You won’t cooperate?” Maddox asked hopefully.

“I didn’t say that.” Becker tried their minds again. Ah. He touched something in Riker. He pulled back— “Ugh!” Becker doubled over, clutching his stomach. He vomited, hating the weakness in him.

“What’s wrong with you?” Maddox demanded. “Are you sick?”

“No,” Becker said weakly. He peered at Riker and seemed ready to ask a question.

“Ah,” Ludendorff said, noticing. “He must have attempted a sneak mind scan of the sergeant. Maybe he felt the residue of the Ska from long ago.”

“Ska?” asked Becker.

Riker scowled. “Did you sneak a peek into my mind?”

“Never mind that, Sergeant,” Maddox said. “Will you cooperate or not, Captain? If not, I’ll save Star Watch the trouble and shoot you here like a mad dog.”

“I’ll cooperate,” Becker said. “What am I supposed to do?”

“We’re all walking out of here together,” Maddox said. “You make it so no one notices. If they notice, if they stop us, you’re dead because I’ll put a bullet in your brain.”

“No need to threaten,” Becker said.

“I’m not,” Maddox said. “It’s what I’ll do. After everything that I’ve seen today, I’m eager to kill you. I want you to give me an excuse.”

Becker nodded, sensing Maddox’s fury.

Thus, Josef Becker began the strangest odyssey of them all. He had no idea that the Prime Saa at the central Moon cavern had told Maddox and Ludendorff certain things about him. If Becker had known what Maddox planned with him, perhaps he would have clawed, scratched and bitten to make a final attempt at freedom. As it was, Becker figured that as long as he was alive, he had a chance to reverse this temporary defeat.

They left the ready room, and Becker blanched upon seeing the dead bridge crew, including Captain Henderson. Becker glanced at Maddox and shivered at what he saw.

The combination shook Becker, and he projected the don’t-look-at-us aura as they moved through the ship corridors. Maddox’s gun barrel poking him in the back had something to do with his eagerness to please. Becker also realized it might be difficult to control the crew if Maddox told them he—Becker—had caused Henderson and the bridge crew to die.

Soon, they reached the hangar bay, taking off in the shuttle. On the Alexander’s bridge, Maddox had reset the controls, bringing the battleship to a complete stop in stationary orbit on the bright side of the Moon.

The shuttle raced for Earth, but Becker didn’t know why. He sat glumly as Maddox guarded him with pistol drawn.

“Can I ask you a question?” Becker said.

“Shut up,” Maddox said.

“Look—”

Maddox rose, aiming the gun at his head. “Go ahead, then. Ask. You’ll have your answer.”

Becker shut up, realizing a bullet in the brain was all the answer Maddox was going to give him right now. He would have to bide his time. It would come, as they would eventually relax and make a mistake.

As long as I’m alive, I can fix everything.

-24-

The shuttle reached Geneva, landing at the spaceport.

Brigadier Stokes entered the shuttle, Maddox having called him during the trip to Earth. Stokes listened to Maddox’s report, nodding at times, shaking his head at others. He glanced at a tight-lipped Becker.

Stokes wore his half-metallic headband from the Toronto R&D center. Maddox had suggested he wear it. Stokes pointed at the freakishly bigheaded officer. “Is that the chap who started all this?”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Maddox said. “To me, though, Becker is simply a traitorous cog in the machine. I suspect the lone Liss cyber in the Jarnevon cave bided its time, waiting for the right opportunity.”

“Why didn’t it make more cybers in the deep cave?” Stokes asked. “That would have been safer for it, right?”

Maddox shook his head. “If it tried that in modern times and succeeded in building a planetary empire on Jarnevon, Star Watch would have sent the Grand Fleet, destroying it just like Fletcher did the Forbidden Planet.”

“Before that,” Stokes said. “Maybe when the original colonists first arrived—why didn’t the Liss cyber start the process then?”

Maddox shrugged. “Maybe the cyber didn’t wake up until after Star Watch and the Laumer Drive was around. Maybe in some way it had hibernated for thousands of years and it took a traumatic planetary event to wake it.”

“Is that true, Becker?” Stokes asked.

“I don’t know, maybe,” Becker grumbled. “The Prime Saa never told me.”

“No,” Stokes said. “I suppose it wouldn’t.” The brigadier regarded Maddox. “Well, what now?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Maddox said. “Cook and you are going to have to rehabilitate Star Watch. I’ve learned from Becker that Fletcher and Akon Chom are dead. Now’s the time to set things right.”

“I’ve made a few plans for this day. Believe me, so has the Lord High Admiral.”

“If you mean Cook, I’m glad to hear it,” Maddox said. “There’s a lot of poison left in Star Watch and in a few other star systems. For one thing, you’ll have to hunt down the last, scattered Liss cybers.”

“Will he help with that?” Stokes asked, pointing at Becker.

“No,” Maddox said. “I have a different plan for him.”

“What’s that?” asked Stokes.

Maddox glanced at a restrained Becker before pulling Stokes outside the chamber and leaving the shuttle. He told the brigadier his plan on the tarmac.

“Audacious to the point of madness,” Stokes said. “I approve, though, for the chief reason that it will get Victory far from here. You and Ludendorff…” Stokes shook his head. “There are still going to be a lot of people who have become xenophobic about you two. You saved us again, but few are going to be grateful. I am, though. Never doubt that.”

Maddox nodded.

“Yes, after what happened on the Alexander…Ludendorff’s gassing… A long stint in the Beyond might be a good idea for you. Let people worry about new things before you come back. The Prime Saa suggested Lisa Meyers is getting ready to strike Star Watch?”

Maddox nodded.

“Hmm…” Stokes said. “Yes, I like your thinking. It will solve some key dilemmas if you succeed, and your grandmother deserves the opportunity.”

The brigadier held out his hand. Maddox shook it.

“Good luck,” Stokes said. “I’ll have a darter in orbit for you. You can use it to reach Victory.”

“Thanks, Brigadier,” Maddox said. “Tell Cook I miss him. He should wear that R&D headband all the time. If he does, he should think about reestablishing control over Star Watch.”

“Yes,” Stoke said. “What a perfectly splendid idea.”

“I see. You already thought about that and probably more?”

Stokes shrugged.

Maddox grinned. “Be seeing you, then.”

“I do hope so. And I hope Star Watch regains its bearings now that we’re killing the remnants of the Liss cyber menace.”

“Yeah,” Maddox said, turning, heading back for the shuttle.

EPILOG

In the borrowed darter, Maddox and the others rejoined Victory at a pre-designated location two and a half light-years from Earth.

The first order of business was placing Becker in a stasis tube much as Ludendorff had once enjoyed during the search for Lord Drakos. Once the bigheaded traitor to humanity succumbed to the localized stasis field in the tube, Maddox, Ludendorff, Meta and Riker took off their headbands, feeling a sense of relief.

Maddox showered afterward and found Mary O’Hara, telling his grandmother everything that had happened.

“My dear,” Mary said, her eyes shining. “I’m so proud of you.” She sipped a cup of tea, silently reveling in his exploits. After several more sips, she looked up. “Who has ever had a grandson like you?”

Maddox smiled, surprised at how good her praise felt to him.

“So what happens now?” she asked.

The good feeling evaporated in him as a knot of determination hardened.

“It’s that bad?” Mary asked.

“Worse,” Maddox said cryptically.

“Oh… That must mean it involves the Erills.”

“Yes,” Maddox said, surprised by his grandmother’s astute perception.

“And Becker, too, I suppose,” she said.

“Yes, again,” Maddox said.

Mary sipped her tea, thinking. “Because of what the Prime Saa told you when it bargained for its life?”

His grandmother was sharp. No wonder she had run Star Watch Intelligence for so long.

Maddox nodded.

“Does Meta know about this?” Mary asked.

Maddox hesitated. “Not yet,” he admitted.

“You should tell her, dear. She deserves to know.”

“I’ll tell her,” Maddox said.

“Before or after you do it?” Mary asked.

Maddox remained silent. Maybe he’d told his grandmother too much.

“Oh, dear,” Mary said, getting up, putting a hand on one of his cheeks. “I hope you know what you’re doing?”

The grimness in Maddox intensified. He nodded, saying, “So do I, Grandmother. So do I.”

***

As Victory departed on its secret mission, Brigadier Mike Stokes of Military Intelligence put into operation a plan he’d refined ever since the Montana Incident at the Rehabilitation Center.

First, he and specially preselected and trained Military Intelligence commandos descended on the Toronto R&D Center, cleaning them out of all the experimental headbands. Every member of the commando team donned one as Stokes once again expounded upon their importance.

Then, they struck at five different centers on Earth, one right after another. At each center, Military Intelligence had lost key operatives under mysterious circumstances. Four of the centers possessed a Liss cyber at the beginning of the strike. None did at the end.

The last Liss cyber had taken off in a Political Intelligence black ops shuttle.

Stokes’ people pinpointed the shuttle, taking it out with an antimatter missile.

At that point, several Political Intelligence sub-commanders got in touch with each other and decided on joint action, putting the late Akon Chom’s kill scheme into operation.

Unfortunately, for the sub-commanders, a specific condition of that kill scheme had been the Prime Saa’s victory. Despite that, PI hit squads raced throughout Earth, attempting a fast liquidation of politically questionable Star Watch officers and parliamentary members.

The first wave of assassinations succeeded in sixty-one percent of the strikes. They failed, however, with three key persons: Admiral Byron of the Battle of the Gomez System fame, Fighter Commander Anson whose men had faced the Android Fleet several years ago and Space Marine Commandant of Earth, Ransom Ekkers.

Under Stokes’ guidance, the three survivors agreed to help Military Intelligence against a rogue Political Intelligence Division.

Four days of bitter undercover fighting and a later two days of Space Marines burning out the last PI holdouts brought Earth under Stokes’ temporary authority, who claimed to operate under the name of Lord High Admiral Cook and ultimately the Parliament in Stockholm that represented the Commonwealth of Planets.

The Moon under Lunar Command was a different matter. They sided with Nostradamus, apparently not realizing he no longer existed. It appeared, though, that a single Liss cyber had survived in a different area of the Moon and had begun giving orders.

Fighter Commander Anson’s people made Earth a MI stronghold. Admiral Byron with Stokes’s and Space Marine help won over all but three fleet vessels. Byron then began a siege of the Moon that lasted long enough for Star Watch’s Grand Fleet to reunite.

By that point, Cook returned to the Solar System, receiving a hero’s welcome from those on the Board of Admiralty and certainly from the masses who watched the Tri-V stations.

Under Cook’s command, a quick but savage campaign of nine days left the Moon a smoking ruin, but ended the last Liss cyber in the Solar System.

From there, after absorbing the bitter lessons learned, Star Watch initiated an anti-Liss cyber campaign throughout the Commonwealth.

The next few months brought a few stiff fights in several systems, always ending in the destruction of any Liss cyber and an abnormal number of slain Bosks.

The final confrontation took place on Jarnevon. It resulted in three days of planetary bombardment, a ninety percent obliteration of the Bosk race and a horrific tunnel operation. The Space Marines involved hated it, but it officially ended the Liss cyber menace.

Had any Liss cybers escaped the vicious hunt?

Stokes wouldn’t swear to it. An unofficial hunt was still in progress, and it would not end for two more years. But that was the future.

For now, Cook was tentatively back in the harness as he and the Board of Admiralty searched for ways to heal the wounds caused by the latest alien attempt against humanity.

Once again, the aliens had failed. Once again, Star Watch had ultimately done its duty, protecting the human race from enslavement and destruction.

***

During this time, Victory headed for the Erill System far out in the Beyond.

Maddox didn’t heed his grandmother’s advice and didn’t tell Meta his plan, at least not right away. It took three months and four days for the starship to reach the outer Erill System. Meta must have figured it out by then, or maybe Mary told her. Maybe both women had been doing a lot of thinking.

Meta caught up with Maddox in a corridor as he and Ludendorff headed for the Stasis Chamber where they kept Becker.

“Can I have a word with you?” Meta asked.

“Not now,” Maddox said. “We’re busy.”

“Oh, no, you’re not,” Meta said, with hands on hips as she blocked his path. “You’d better speak to me this minute.”

Maddox studied his wife, sighed and glanced at Ludendorff.

“Women,” Ludendorff muttered. “Can’t live with them and can’t live without them. It’s a conundrum if there ever was one.”

Meta whirled around to face him. “Don’t you start with me, Professor.”

The white-haired Methuselah Man held up his hands, backing away. He called out to Maddox, “Go ahead, my boy. I’ll wait.”

Maddox took one of Meta’s hands, pulling her from Ludendorff, taking her down the corridor to talk. He explained what he hoped to accomplish and why he hadn’t told her before this.

Meta stared at him as if he was crazy and then as if she was going to punch him. Before she did, her lower lip trembled, and her eyes started to moisten.

Maddox actually felt a little guilty about that. It might have been a first for him. “I suppose I should have told you sooner,” he mumbled.

“You think?” Meta whispered, as she dabbed her eyes with a sleeve. “I knew you had planned something dangerous—but this. Darling, it’s insane.”

Maddox shook his head. “The Prime Saa believed he could do it.”

“Did he really? You’re certain he wasn’t telling you that so…?” Meta waved her hands. “At the end, the Prime Saa must have known you’d kill him no matter what. Thus, he told you this to get even with you.”

“I admit it’s a possibility.”

Meta hiccupped as if she’d been crying for hours. “Oh, darling,” she said, rushing into his arms. She crushed him with a hug that would have broken a lesser man’s back.

Maddox merely grunted.

Meta stared up into his eyes. “For once, you should listen to reason. This is too extreme, too wild. You don’t even know if some of your ideas will work or not. You need more data.”

“How will I get it?”

“I have no idea,” she scoffed. “You can’t just rush down to the City of Pyramids and hope the crazy plan works.” Meta shook her head. Her gorgeous face was tear-stained. “If you’re wrong, you could be dooming our universe to a mass Erill invasion. How does that help any of us?”

Maddox shook his head.

“You can’t shoulder every burden,” Meta said. “You should ask the Emperor or your uncle Golden Ural if this is a wise maneuver.”

“If I told them about this, they might become greedy for the Ur-Builder tech.”

“You know I love you,” Meta said, softening. She put her hands on his face. “I support whatever you do. I’ll even support you in this. But I don’t think you’ve really thought this one through. Becker’s downfall delights you too much. And the Erill problem—I can see how desperately you wish to fix it. Maybe you more than anyone else know the perils of keeping the Erills caged on Estar. You’ve spoken and fought with the Erills. You’ve personally felt their horrible evil. But your plan, or yours and Ludendorff’s plan will only have a slight possibility of success.”

Maddox didn’t tell her that Ludendorff had given him a one in four chance of pulling this off. Yet, he was the di-far. He could do this. He’d beaten worse odds.

“My love, I beg you, reconsider what you’re doing.” Meta kissed him, releasing him.

Maddox took her hands, squeezing hard, and he realized that he’d changed his mind. He realized that Meta knew him too well. He’d loved the idea of sending Becker into the Erill dimension, possessed by all the Erills of the City of Pyramids and transferred back to their original dimension by the ancient Ur-Builder tech that had brought them. Becker would have learned the Erills’ and Ur-Builders’ secrets through his possession and then—

Maddox shook his head. It had been a desperate plan. Maybe it was time to throttle back on wildness and play the odds a little more.

“I have to tell Ludendorff.”

Meta nodded. “Thank you, my love. Thank you so very much.” She smiled. “I’m going to our room. Will you be joining me?”

Maddox grinned. “Soon,” he said.

She smiled coyly, turning, sauntering away, likely knowing he watched her until she turned a corner and disappeared from view.

Maddox had been watching his gorgeous wife. He sighed, thinking, and then headed for Ludendorff.

The Methuselah Man observed him approach. “Oh,” Ludendorff said, perhaps seeing something on Maddox’s face. “That’s quite interesting indeed. I didn’t think such a thing was possible. But it appears that Meta talked you out of it.”

Maddox frowned, and he touched his forehead. “You know, I’m beginning to wonder if the Prime Saa implanted the idea in me at the end.”

“You mean worked a dominating thought past your headband and Erill-enhanced stubbornness?”

“That’s right,” Maddox said.

Ludendorff rubbed his chin. “No… I don’t believe it could dominate you. Otherwise, it would have tried harder in order to survive. But maybe it could push an idea you already had. The knowledge it imparted concerning Becker and the suggestion that implied rattled around in your mind until you were ready to give it a go. Maybe it did that to me, too.”

“I have to think about this one,” Maddox said. “Meta is right. We need more data about the Ur-Builder machines, particularly the dimensional opening one.”

“And where would we get such data?”

“I don’t know yet,” Maddox said. He shook his head. “Maybe we just dodged more than a bullet but an antimatter explosion of a threat. Maybe we just saved the universe from a sinister peril that we were unknowingly about to unleash.”

“Could be, could be,” Ludendorff said. “Well, if that’s out, what’s next for us?”

Maddox considered that until he snapped his fingers. “Jarnevon—it’s time to head for Jarnevon.”

“So, we’re leaving Becker on ice?”

“For now,” Maddox said. “Maybe we can use him on Jarnevon.” The captain knew nothing about the brutal anti-Liss cyber campaign going on at the Bosk Homeworld at present.

“I’d have to know your plan, my boy, before I could agree to that,” Ludendorff said.

Maddox eyed the Methuselah Man, shrugging. “It has to do with finding a Draegar and fixing the Iron Lady. It’s time to really work on getting her back in the saddle. I’m tired of others using my grandmother.”

“Hmm, I find that to be a questionable scheme.”

Maddox stepped near and clapped Ludendorff on a shoulder. “I’ll tell you more about it tomorrow. Right now…” Maddox looked down the corridor. “I have a date with Meta.” He smiled hugely. “What a woman, what a wife. What did I ever do to deserve her?”

“Do you want the truth, my boy?”

“Eh? What’s that?” Maddox asked, glancing at Ludendorff.

“You didn’t do a thing to deserve her,” Ludendorff said. “She’s a gift, a rare gift to an egocentric captain filled with delusions of grandeur, and perhaps with a modicum of ability.”

“She’s a gift, all right.” Maddox touched his forehead with two fingers and made a ragged salute. “Be seeing you, Professor.” With that, Maddox headed back the way he’d come, beginning to hurry for his room.

Ludendorff watched him go, a rueful smile on his leathery face. Maybe the Methuselah Man was thinking about Dana. Maybe he wondered if he should head back to Brahma and try again. Maybe…

THE END

From the Author: Thanks Reader! I hope you’ve enjoyed THE LOST INTELLIGENCE. If you liked the book and would like to see the story continue, please put up some stars and a review to support the series. Let me know what you would like Captain Maddox and the crew to challenge next!

-VH

Read on for an exciting excerpt from the next book in the Lost Starship Series, The Lost Tech.

The Lost Tech

(Lost Starship Series 13)

From the Office of Lord High Admiral Cook: Memo #274

With the sad passing of James K. Fletcher, I have once again stepped into the harness as the Lord High Admiral of Star Watch. As such, it is my solemn duty to make the transition as painless as possible and to guarantee a smooth running of the fleet, its stations and people. During the transition period, we must continue to serve and protect the Commonwealth of Planets with all our heart, skill and strength, and attempt to heal the divisions caused by Humanity Manifesto Doctrines.

Certainly, many of the HM Doctrines were correct in theory. A few, clearly, were heinous and destructive. Particularly, it was the organizational implementation of the doctrines into daily Star Watch activities that produced such heartache, confusion and, at times, treason to the state.

This will stop, I assure you, as we correct the worst offenses to common sense and decency in our glorious organization.

One of the key disruptions was the creation of the Political Intelligence Division with its “loyalty purging” headhunting field agents and political commissars assigned to fleet vessels and star bases. Effective immediately, all PI commissars are relieved of duty and must report as soon as possible to Star Watch Headquarters on Earth for evaluation of their actions. Failure to comply will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of military law.

Furthermore, any fleet or station officer who refuses to adhere to the new standards but continues to follow outdated interpretations of HM Doctrine will be relieved of duty.

To ensure the full compliance with these changes, I have assigned Brigadier Stokes as head of the Transition Teams of my selection. The Teams will include a mix of Military Intelligence officers, Space Marines and key personnel serving on various battleships. These teams will physically deploy throughout the Commonwealth and check each Star Watch ship and installation to ensure all personnel are fully complying with the new regulations. They will also pick up any recalcitrant political commissars, rogue PI personnel and unyielding HM extremists unable to cope with the new administration. Those who are picked up will be brought to Earth to face court martial hearings.

It is my heartfelt desire that these changes will take place with a minimum of disruption and violence. But be it noted, anyone acting treasonously against Star Watch will face a final reckoning, whether from the Judge Advocate’s Office or from Transition Team members performing their duty as specified by me, Lord High Admiral Cook.

-1-

From where she sat on her military prison cot, former Star Watch Commander Kris Guderian looked up at her tiny cell window. It faced a brick wall—she’d jumped up before, grabbed the bars and hoisted herself to look. The sky was the only observable piece of nature from the window. On Alpha Sigma 9, that meant a pink sky with two stars: a giant cool blue one and a tiny hot white one.

Kris shuddered as a volley of shots rang out, the sounds echoing from the walls. After the echoes died away, her throat convulsed. They’d been executing prisoners all morning. She didn’t know why. Well, she assumed it was prisoners. Who else could it be?

I won’t whimper when they come for me. It can’t be long now.

Kris was almost thirty-eight, of medium height with long red hair and freckles across her stub nose. She’d had a dashing service record, having served under Admiral Fletcher when he’d run the Fifth Fleet against the New Men invasion of “C” Quadrant so many years ago. She had also been the first to see a Destroyer of the Nameless Ones as it demolished the capital planet of New Arabia of the now extinct Wahhabi Caliphate.

As she sat trembling on the prison cot, Kris stiffened, hearing the sound of clashing boots on concrete getting closer. Were the prison guards finally coming for her?

Through an act of will, Kris squared her shoulders and forced herself to stand. It was so damn muggy in here without the air conditioning running anymore. When had it stopped? Three days before the executions began, she believed. Had the officials decided on that so they could save on the electric bill? Or just make the prisoner suffer?

Kris wore a shapeless gray military-prison uniform with the number 8 stenciled on it and with damp stains under her armpits. She’d been in here four months already, having failed a Political Intelligence loyalty test. She’d failed because she’d refused to malign Captain Maddox at the order of the commodore of Alpha Sigma 9. She’d worked with Maddox before and admired the officer. Having worked with him had been her first black mark. Failing to denounce him had been the second. She had offered to condemn the New Men instead of Maddox.

“That’s not good enough,” the commodore had told her. “I’ll give you one more chance, Commander.”

Kris hadn’t taken it back then.

Will they ask me about Maddox today? What will I say? She nodded. I’ll damn him and live. Anything else would be criminally stupid, right?

She began trembling as a lock snicked. Her heavy cell door swung open. They really are coming for me. I can’t believe it. Two thickset guards in black uniforms stared at her. They had beefy features and had sneered at her four months ago. Funny, neither of them sneered now. In fact, both seemed harried, possibly worried. They had lines around their eyes and hard frown lines around their mouths.

“Prisoner Number Eight, step outside,” the shorter of the two said, a man missing one of his upper front teeth. A dirty nametag on his chest said: Corporal Johan.

“W-Why?” Kris stammered.

Corporal Johan snapped his thick fingers and motioned for her to hurry.

“I—I demand to know why you’re—”

“Stupid bitch,” Johan growled, interrupting. “Do I have to drag you out by the hair?”

Kris found it difficult to swallow as she made odd gasping noises. This was so unfair, so wrong and vile. She managed to raise her chin as she walked toward them. She was thankful her legs didn’t tremble or her knees unlock so she sprawled onto the floor before them.

Corporal Johan reached out, grabbing an arm and hauling her faster. The second guard grabbed the other arm, doing so with a cruel grip. They began marching her down the corridor.

Her stomach twisted with fear as bile rose in the back of her throat. This couldn’t be happening. She blinked rapidly and moistened her dry lips, whispering, “Where are you taking me?”

Neither guard answered. Nor did either guard look at her. It was almost as if they found her existence offensive. Or maybe they were ashamed of what they were going to do to her.

Kris closed her eyes as they marched her through a corridor. This was a nightmare. She couldn’t just walk silently to death. She had to do something, anything. But what, what could she do?

She opened her eyes wide even as she found it difficult to breathe. “I-I hardly knew Captain Maddox,” she said.

“What?” Johan said.

Just get this over with, she decided. It’s better than dying. Tell them you hated Maddox, that he was a traitor. She inhaled, still finding this difficult, and blurted, “I said that I hardly knew Captain Maddox.”

The two guards leaned forward and frowned at each other across her. Corporal Johan looked at her next.

“What are you babbling about?” he asked sharply.

Kris was confused. What was she doing wrong? Spit it out. Talk or you’ll die before a firing squad. “This is about Captain Maddox, isn’t it? I-I failed…failed a loyalty test four months ago, remember?”

Johan muttered a curse, releasing her arm, snatching a communicator from a back pocket. He activated it, waited, “Hello, sir,” he said, sounding respectful. “I have a question for you.”

Kris couldn’t hear what the person on the other end said to the guard.

“Yes, sir,” Johan said. “I was escorting Prisoner Eight to the courtyard for…for removal. She was in Ward Three— What’s that, sir? Yes, I said Prisoner Eight.”

Kris cocked her head, as she heard tinny sounds coming from the communicator as if the person on the other end was shouting.

Johan lowered his comm unit as he faced her. “What’s your name, Eight?”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“Your name, your name, your legal name, what is it?” he said testily.

“Oh. Kris Guderian.”

A worried-looking Johan repeated that into the communicator. A moment later, he paled. “Is that Commander Kris Guderian?” he asked her.

Kris nodded.

“Yes, sir, she’s a commander,” Johan said into the communicator. He listened, finally saying, “But I thought—”

More tinny shouting commenced from the communicator.

“Yes, sir,” Johan said, as he went from pale to ashen. “I understand, sir. Yes, at once. You can count on me. I’m glad I checked, sir.” And the corporal added slyly, “I imagine you’ll be glad later that I did, sir.” Johan listened again, and some of the fear in his eyes dissipated until he managed a sickly smile to his partner.

Finally, Johan pocketed his communicator. “Let her go,” he said.

The other guard released Kris’s arm as if she was on fire.

“I’m sorry for the confusion, Commander,” Johan told her, with a glimmer of respect in his voice. “The warden told me to ready you for flitter flight. He said the commodore has been asking for you. He forgot—I mean, I must not have heard him tell us to free you and pass on his orders...Commander.”

“What?” stammered Kris.

“The Commodore of Alpha Sigma Nine would like a word with you,” Johan said with exaggerated patience.

“Why would the Commodore want a word with me?” she asked.

“I don’t know. But I’m to take you to his office on the double. Oh, yes, I almost forgot. I’m supposed to ask if you’d like to shower and eat first.”

Kris blinked at the guard. What was going on? She shook her head, saying timidly, “Yes. And I’d like a change of clothes for after the shower, if that’s possible. A fresh uniform.”

“Of course, Commander,” Johan said, now sounding fully respectful, maybe having thought through future implications. “I do hope…we were just following orders a few minutes ago. We thought you were still under arrest. I’m glad I took the initiative to make a call to the warden. I would think—I hope you remember that I was the one to make the call.”

Kris nodded. She wanted to get the hell out of the prison and away from the executions in the courtyard. What did the star-base commodore want with her, and what had caused the sudden switch in her status?

“Are you ready, Commander?” Corporal Johan asked.

“Yes,” Kris said. Not only had she escaped a firing squad, but she was also going to shower after four months of filth and fear. Maybe her luck had finally changed. Maybe the days of having bad luck dog her in everything she did were finally over.

-2-

Alpha Sigma 9 was a small, dense water moon with nearly Earth gravity. The gas giant it orbited showed a multitude of bright, banded colors, taking up the majority of the pink sky this hour of the day.

Kris felt one hundred percent better as she rode in a flitter, with Corporal Johan piloting the two-seater. She had showered and combed her hair, which shone redder than before. Her skin hurt, she’d scrubbed so hard with a soapy brush in a needle-hot shower. Afterward, she’d put on the clean Star Watch uniform she’d been given. She’d eaten a ham sandwich with a rich, fresh glass of milk. Her stomach felt bloated after her near-starvation prison diet of the last four months.

Her mind clicked more smoothly, too, with the imminent threat of death removed and with freedom and cleanliness.

She eyed the piloting corporal sidelong. The thickset man wore a brown flight jacket and fidgeted with the controls. He was definitely nervous about something. She debated asking him questions and decided she didn’t want to hear his grating voice again.

They landed on a flat rooftop a half hour later. The four-story building was on a hill overlooking a nearby spaceport. She spied military craft on the spaceport tarmac along with several starliner shuttles.

The corporal remained in the flitter, while a marine in Star Watch colors approached the craft. The marine didn’t carry a rifle, but had a holstered sidearm. The marine gave her a hand out. When they were halfway across the roof, the flitter lifted off, heading back for the prison, no doubt.

Kris wanted to ask the marine what this was about, but decided to wait. He escorted her to an elevator. It took them down two floors. The marine escorted her through a carpeted hall and into the outer office of Commodore Smits of Star Base Alpha Sigma 9.

The administration specialist—a thin man with odd eyes—scribbled madly as they entered. He looked up from his desk with a sheen of moisture on his broad forehead.

“Commander Guderian?” the man asked briskly.

“That’s me,” she said.

“The Commodore is waiting for you. Please, go in.”

Kris glanced at the marine. He was already turning around, getting ready to leave.

The administration specialist must have pressed a hidden switch on his desk. The door opened, and Commodore Smits stepped out.

He was a large man with big hands, a sagging stomach and a ring of curly hair around a bald dome. He also possessed outrageously oversized sideburns and keen dark eyes.

“I’m glad you made it so promptly, Commander,” Smits said. “Please, won’t you come in?”

Kris wanted to ask what choice she’d had, but hadn’t regained that sort of courage yet. Her uniform helped her feel normal and—she nodded, aware she’d lost awareness for a moment, still disoriented from the abrupt transition from prisoner to officer once again. She followed the commodore into his office.

It felt disarranged and disorganized. Several portraits were missing from the walls, a few of them stacked upside down on the floor. There were plastic bins to the side full of little things.

“Sit, please,” the commodore said, as he headed around the desk.

Kris sat in a chair with wooden armrests, struck by the unreality of the situation. It was as if her four months in military prison had never happened. Was the commodore going to laugh and re-arrest her to break any semblance of willpower? She half-expected him to do it, and maybe that showed on her face.

The commodore sat behind his desk, picked up a reader, staring at something on the screen. He set the reader down, folded his thick fingers together and leaned slightly forward, giving her a false smile.

“I imagine you’re feeling a bit disoriented,” he said.

Kris shifted in her chair, a knot forming in her chest. Here it comes. Don’t cry. Take it like an officer.

“Please, Commander,” Smits said. “I want you to be at ease.”

“How can I?” she blurted. “The guards were taking me to the courtyard for execution. Suddenly, the one guard makes a call and—”

“Commander,” Smits said with a hearty-good-fellow chuckle. “That was a mistake, a stupid one, I agree. Heads will roll because of it, I assure you.”

Kris frowned. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“Er, yes, well—”

“Why did you arrest me four months ago? What did I do wrong?”

“Me?” Smits asked, seeming to feign astonishment. “No, no, you’re mistaken. Colonel Borneo of Political Intelligence forced me to arrest you. He was a veritable devil of a man, a monster, really. Thank goodness he’s gone. He’s never going to denounce or distress anyone ever again. Of that, I can guarantee you.”

“But—”

“Commander,” Smits said. He stopped speaking, seeming to choose his words carefully before starting again. “Those evil days are behind us. The monsters of Political Intelligence won’t twist anyone’s arms again. We all survived the nightmare of their dominance. Frankly, I believe it’s time to put those dreadful days behind us. That’s all in the past. It’s over.”

“Wait,” Kris said, holding up a hand, surprised it did not tremble. He’s afraid, Commodore Smits is afraid—of me. The thought was so outrageous, so dreamlike given the past four months— “What happened?” she asked.

“Eh?”

Her confidence began dribbling back into her heart. The fear in Smit’s eyes—he’s trying hard to mask it. She sat straighter, glancing around the office. She could feel Smits watching her as she studied her surroundings.

“Would you like some tea, coffee, orange juice?” Smits asked in his artificially hearty tone.

It struck Kris then. The way Smits had said, I can guarantee you. She looked at him, asking, “What happened to Colonel Borneo?”

Smits flinched as if she’d reached out and slapped him, although he recovered almost immediately. “He, ah, faced the justice that he gave so many others.”

Kris frowned, trying to piece that together in her mind. “Colonel Borneo was a killer,” she heard herself say. “He sent people to the firing…” Understanding struck. She leaned forward as the air simply left her lungs. She stared at the floor, blinking, blinking… Slowly, she straightened, forcing herself to suck down air.

“Commander, this is a sordid affair,” Smits said. “Borneo, we don’t have to think about him anymore. We have much more pleasant business to—”

“Did you have him shot?” Kris asked, astonished at the idea.

Smits said nothing, his gaze faltering as she stared at him. He studied the reader on his desk instead.

“I heard the volleys,” she said, “many firing-squad executions. The way you’re talking, the guards must have shot Colonel Borneo and—who else did you shoot?”

Smits looked up sharply. “Me?” he asked in a squeaky voice. He paused, maybe regaining his bearings. Speaking in a normal tone, he said, “You misunderstand. I had no one shot. A new directive came down. I’m simply—”

“What new directive?” Kris asked, interrupting.

Smits opened his mouth. He licked his teeth and gave her a sickly smile. He didn’t seem so powerful anymore.

Kris cocked her head and studied the commodore as she would a new planet or comet. She had been a Patrol officer, often seeking out new star systems and cataloging them in detail.

“All right, then,” Smits said, the smile disappearing into a vault. A grim demeanor took its place. “We can proceed along these lines if you wish. I had thought you would appreciate—”

“What happened?” Kris said, interrupting him once again. “I went to military prison because I wouldn’t condemn Captain Maddox as a race traitor. Now, you had Colonel Borneo shot. Did you shoot him because…? Oh,” she said suddenly.

“What?” Smits snapped, who watched her the way a rat might a cat, but a rat with others of his kind debating in the shadows that if they all jumped the cat at once… “What do you think you know?”

Kris didn’t heed the warning signs. The feeling of power—he’s afraid of me—filled her with a sudden sense of invincibility. “You shot Borneo’s men, all of them belonging to Political Intelligence. That was why the guards were hauling me to the courtyard. They mistakenly thought I belonged to Political Intelligence.”

“Now look here, Commander,” Smits said. “I had no one shot, as I’m not the warden in charge of the prison. In fact, you were lucky I...persuaded the warden to release you into my custody. You asked about changes. Well, there was a big one. Lord High Admiral Fletcher died.”

“What? When did that happen?”

Smits scowled and then forcibly turned it into a smile, a seemingly false one. “Cook has returned to Star Watch.”

“Lord High Admiral Cook?” she asked.

Smits nodded.

“Aha…” Kris said.

“Aha indeed,” Smits said. “As you might imagine, Humanity Manifesto Doctrine has gone out the window, as its tenets are in disgrace. Furthermore, Cook has disbanded the Political Intelligence Division, with many of its members destined for prison or execution.”

Kris sat back in her chair, absorbing the information.

“Transition Teams are heading out everywhere to ensure the implementation of the new regulations,” Smits said, casually glancing down at his nails. “We here are simply ahead of the curve—in an effort to make the Lord High Admiral’s task easier by taking care of such problems here for him. If we’d waited, you’d still be in prison, hmm?”

Kris frowned, trying to understand the hidden meaning of what Smits said. Then, it struck her with full force. Smits was a survivor, a cunning maneuverer. Four months ago, he had been vocal in praise of HM Doctrine. He’d backed Political Intelligence to the hilt. Now, he’d turned on them, and was killing the people he’d sucked up to. Maybe he was doing so to cover himself, to seal lips from ever telling dirty little secrets he didn’t want known.

And then it really hit her. Smits is cleaning house. If he thinks I’m dangerous to him, he’ll make sure I’m killed, too. But with me, he would do it on the sly.

A cold hard knot formed in her gut. She wasn’t out of it yet. Greasy fear resumed. It felt as if someone had poured a bucket of slime over her head.

Smits must have noticed the mental calculations taking place—if the wheels turning in his eyes were any indication. He picked up the reader, maybe doing it to give himself a few more seconds to think. He inhaled, and it seemed as if he’d come to a decision.

“Actually, it’s good you’re here, Commander,” Smits said, looking at her again. “I’ve received…odd information. It’s three weeks old and comes from the 82 G. Eridani System.”

It took Kris a moment to switch gears. “That’s eight and a half light-years from here. Why is the data three weeks old?”

“As to that, I can’t say. The point is I need someone with Patrol experience to check it out for me. Local Eridani government people came here because we have the right sort of ships and personnel for such a task. While there’s a battleship guarding Olmstead—”

“Olmstead?” asked Kris, interrupting again.

“That’s the name of the populated planet at 82 G. Eridani,” he said. “Olmstead has six hundred and fifty million inhabitants. Unfortunately, it doesn’t have a permanent Star Watch base. The battleship isn’t rigged for finding—” Smits glanced at the reader, looking up at her afterward. “It isn’t the type of vessel to go looking for missing asteroids.”

“Missing asteroids?” Kris repeated. “Where could they possibly go?”

“That is what I want you to find out, Commander. Despite your probationary reinstatement into command—I’m talking about before HMD ascendancy. Well, you’re the only Patrol qualified officer here to go and check.” Smits hesitated, cleared his throat and added, “You see, I’ve read your file. I know why High Command debated about your ability to serve again. Methuselah Man Strand once captured you.”

The old pain resurfaced in Kris.

“There have been questions concerning your mental capacity and loyalty to Star Watch,” Smits said. “Some feel that Strand may have modified your mind.”

“The psychiatrists said he didn’t,” Kris said.

Smits nodded. “I’ve read your file, remember? I know about that. Given your past treatment due to Political Intelligence—well, I want to give you the opportunity to prove yourself. You could call it compensation, a desire on my part to make up the last four months to you.”

He’s telling me that he’s willing to buy me off, Kris realized. And send me away too, where I won’t be an embarrassment to him, or a loose end.

“I have a science vessel in orbit,” Smits said. “It has a minimal crew, without a commander and pilot, among other things. However, according to your record, you can pilot an Escort-class vessel.”

“I can,” Kris said, thinking hard.

“There were strange electronic readings in the 82 G. Eridani System’s main asteroid belt. I want you to check that out as well, and I suggest you begin your investigation there.”

“I see,” Kris said. “How long do you think this will take—long enough to keep me out of your hair for…?” She let her thought trail off.

Smits’s manner changed as his eyes hardened. “I suggest you tread carefully while addressing me. I’m still the commodore and your superior officer. I can easily put a black mark or two into your file regarding your mental balance. It would have nothing to do with Political Intelligence, but with my opinion regarding Strand’s possible mind alterations.”

“In other words—” Kris stopped herself from saying, If I don’t make waves, you’ll give me a full bill of mental health. But if I try to tell the truth about you, you’ll screw with my files and wreck my career forever.

Smits’s eyes narrowed, as he seemed to take her measure. He nodded shortly. “I believe we understand each other. Make a thorough study of the problem, Commander. Find out what is going on out there. Come back once you find out, but not until then.”

Despite her dislike of Smits, Kris forced the words out of her mouth. “You can count on me, sir.”

“Good,” he said, and it was clear that he had immediately lost interest in her. He bent down to his reader, waving his left hand at her in dismissal.

Kris stood. She was free…for now. What would happen to her once she returned? Would the transition team Smits obviously feared have come and gone by then? At that point, would Smits be content with letting her live, knowing what she did about him?

Smits looked up at her.

As he did, Kris turned away, toward the door. She didn’t want the commodore to see the new understanding in her eyes. Without another word, she marched out.

Thus, Kris did not see Smits gaze thoughtfully after her. Nor did she see him open a drawer and take out a folder. He opened the folder, picked up a pen and scribbled something into the file. Perhaps what he wrote would not make any difference to her future. Then again, maybe it would.