The Lost Starship

-4-

That night, Maddox lay in bed unable to sleep. He kept staring up at the ceiling, thinking about the past twenty-four hours.

Caius Nerva, Sergeant Riker, Admiral von Gunther, Commander Miles and the New Men—what did it all mean? The golden-skinned invaders from the Beyond had a secret service organization operating on Earth. That seemed clear from the lieutenant’s story. The traitorous commander in the bomber had landed on an enemy warship. The three enemy cruisers had been waiting at the right entry point into the Pan System.

After the meeting, Maddox had checked a star chart. There were three jump points in the Pan System, all widely divergent from each other in location. The New Men had been waiting at the Aphrodite Five-Pan route. In order for von Gunther to reach Aphrodite Five, he would have first taken a long journey through the Beyond. That journey had taken at least two months. Maddox had confirmed the route with Brigadier O’Hara. By their ready presence and quick attack, the New Men had logically known a Star Watch battle group was on its way and nearby.

With his hands behind his head on the pillow, Maddox thought about that. I doubt their sensors are so superior to ours that they can see down tramlines or light years away into a different star system. If their sensors were that good, the New Men would have spotted Noonan in her lifeboat while she hid behind the asteroid. The easier answer is that traitors in the battle group were sending secret messages to the enemy.

If the New Men had agents in the Star Watch and the Commonwealth governments, that meant enemy case officers had been here awhile. It took time to set up a good spy ring and to solidify a hold onto traitors who would willingly see their comrades die because of their treachery.

How long have the New Men been among us? It was a chilling question for more than one reason.

Maddox swiftly rose to his feet, padding down the hall to the liquor cabinet in his living room. He wore briefs, exposing his lean frame.

In moments, he held a tumbler with ice and Scotch whiskey. He sipped, closed his eyes and felt the fiery liquid go down.

He knew himself to be unusual in several ways. Swirling the ice, he poured himself another and slammed it down this time. With a gasp, he clunked the tumbler onto the liquor cabinet.

He’d never really been drunk before. His body burned up alcohol far too quickly for him to stay intoxicated. He had tested himself, and it turned out he had a fast metabolism. What’s more, his core temperature wasn’t 98.6 but 99.4 on average. Dueling came easier to him than for others because his reflexes were abnormally quick. He was also stronger than he looked, benching fifty percent more than someone his size should have been able to do.

I’m different—not a lot different, just enough to help me win most of the time.

As the tumbler sat on the cabinet, Maddox rotated it. A numbing swirl struck his brain, the whiskey doing its damage. The feeling would go away soon.

Why don’t I swig from the bottle? See how much I can guzzle.

He’d defeated Caius Nerva while the other wore a Tojo bodysuit with advanced speed settings. The brigadier recognized that he shouldn’t have been able to parry every stroke. Yet he had. Even so, he would have lost the match except that Sergeant Riker understood what had been going on.

My aide set the stunner to kill. That wasn’t the first time Riker had surprised him.

Frowning, Maddox began to pace like a caged leopard. Why was he different? He wished he knew.

The Parker family had raised him. Maddox still remembered the day when his “mom” had told him the horrible truth: “You’re adopted.”

Four years ago, using the full extent of his skills, Maddox had hunted down his real mother’s identity. There had been precious little to discover. She had arrived on Earth just in time to deliver him. She’d come on a Spacer packet from New Poland. He went there, and after two weeks of detective work, he found she had come from Brisbane. The trail had iced up on the small Windsor League planet. He hadn’t been able to find out anything more there.

Nancy Halifax, his mother—he believed the name an alias—had taken the interstellar voyage a little over two decades ago. She came to Earth, delivered him and died. From her sparse records, she’d appeared normal enough.

But I’m not. The first time Maddox had seen the footage of the New Man attacking the Odin marines, it had shocked him. That’s when he had started to wonder.

That was his terrible secret. He wondered if his mother had met a New Man, an invading rapist perhaps. The implications…

That would have happened over two decades ago. Did the New Men know then they were going to invade the Oikumene? Did they begin to infiltrate the Commonwealth back then?

The inferences were horrible. The evidence pointed to a long-term infiltration. There were traitors among them, people who had sided with the invaders.

Maddox laughed bleakly. Lieutenant Noonan’s tale would unleash a witch-hunt among the military. How long would he last under that kind of scrutiny with a burning mentality for vengeance? If High Command came to a similar conclusion about him… would the Intelligence people torture him for information he didn’t have? If the New Men were that superior in technology and ability— I have to run. But where will I go? Will my father’s people take me in? Wouldn’t genetically superior people look down on a half-breed?

Maddox stared at the melting cubes in the tumbler. He laughed again, a hopeless sound. He wasn’t used to making those. This was all a theory, nothing more. Surely, there were other explanations for his enhanced physical abilities.

Maybe I’m just gifted. Maybe I’m a sport, a mutant. Don’t those appear in a population from time to time?

He cocked his head, realizing he’d just heard a quiet click from outside. Slowly, he lowered himself until he crouched on the rug and concentrated, listening. His eyes widened. He heard the soft hum of antigravity pods outside his apartment.

Yes, something was outside his window. The drapes were shut. He’d have to crawl over to the window and peer out to see what it was. He lived on the fortieth floor. That meant— A crash sounded. The living room window blew inward. Because he crouched low, the spray of shards that shredded his curtains flew over him except for one. That sliver of glass grazed the top of his shoulder, drawing blood.

Maddox hadn’t turned on the lights. That was a piece of good fortune because he wasn’t spotlighted now. He looked up from his position. A sleek air-van lifted into sight about thirty meters away. A side door slid open on the van, and two operatives readied themselves for a leap. They wore repulse-packs, body armor and helmets with masks. Each of them carried a stubby shotgun-type weapon.

Tanglers! They’re man-hunters. Did Octavian Nerva send them?

Maddox had no way of knowing. He also lacked a weapon. Simply running seemed like a poor idea. He had to upset their timing.

As the van closed the distance, sliding nearer to the window, Maddox reached up to the liquor cabinet. His fingers curled around the tumbler. The two hunters jumped, gliding toward his smashed window. Beyond them hovered the air-van with the open side door. Through that, Maddox spied the driver at the controls. It was a narrow opening.

With a snarl, Maddox stood, cocked his arm and hurled the tumbler. It paid to do the unexpected. His glass would bounce off body armor and mask alike, so hurling it at the approaching hunters seemed futile.

The tumbler sped past the two, reached the open van and shot through the narrow opening. It failed to connect with the driver’s head. Instead, the glass struck his armored window and shattered. A shard struck the driver’s face. His arms shot out and, likely, his foot didn’t remain in the right place. The air-van lifted, accelerating fast. One of the hunters must have noticed something amiss. He glanced back.

Maddox was already moving away from them.

The second hunter cocked his head as if listening to an earbud. Then their repulse-packs brought them through the window and into Maddox’s living room. One of them struck the back of the couch with his shins. That upset his balance. The hunter slammed onto his chest against the rug. The other landed smoothly, his legs churning as he ran.

Already moving, Maddox thought fast, gauging his options. They must have struck in the living room because someone in the van had radar and knew his precise location. Now, for as long as it took the driver to recover and bring the air-van back into place, he would be on equal footing with these two.

Neither of them shouted his name or took a shot. Likely, they scanned with their helmet HUDs in the darkness.

Maddox glided through the hall. His normal coolness evaporated. The senior Nerva had acted with speed, sending hunters after him. Did that mean the tycoon had already struck at Sergeant Riker?

New Men, Methuselah People—how much corruption could a planet take? With all these bribes changing hands, everyone should be rich.

Panic thrummed in Maddox’s brain. He wasn’t sure who he was anymore. Did he belong in Star Watch Intelligence or not? This was like the day his mother had told him they’d adopted him.

“What?” he’d asked her. “You mean I’m not your son?”

“Of course you are, dear. I love you. Your father loves you.”

His world had turned upside down. “Do you mean my real father?” he’d asked.

A hurt look had crossed his adopted mother’s face. He remembered that. It had helped him realize she did love him. He also knew that something had departed his heart that day. His famous cool had begun to assert itself from that time forward. Maybe he’d had to operate that way to protect himself.

Behind him, armored footfalls told Maddox the man-hunters knew where he was. A repulse-packed whined. It would push the hunter, giving the man speed. Maddox knew he wasn’t going to reach the heavy rifle in his bedroom in time.

He darted into the bathroom since he was already at the door. With a lunge, he lifted the porcelain cover off the toilet’s water tank. Whirling, he charged back.

The first hunter poked in his tangler barrel and helmeted head. Maddox swung. The porcelain cover smashed into pieces against the helmet. The tangler made a popping sound. A golf ball-sized capsule struck the wall, exploding into strands, immediately tightening. If a capsule had hit him, he’d have been tangled in an unbreakable web. At the same time as the shot hit the wall, the hunter catapulted backward, striking his partner with his repulse-pack. The two hit the far hall wall, bouncing off and tumbling forward.

Like a lynx, Maddox was on the first attacker, his legs straddling the fallen man’s shoulders. The captain clutched the head with one hand under the chin, the other on the back of the helmet. With a savage twist, Maddox snapped the vertebrae, killing the man.

The other must not have realized what had happened yet. The man shouted, and a knockout mist hissed from a small cylinder on his chest.

Maddox recognized the danger. They had masks. He didn’t. Holding his breath, he squirmed away, rolled on the tiled floor with his shoulders and slithered around the corner into his bedroom. Another pop sounded. Another capsule splatted against a wall, this time in his bedroom.

“Claude!” the hunter said.

Frenchmen or French Canadians, Maddox thought.

“I kill you,” the hunter shouted.

Maddox didn’t think so. Reaching into the closet, he pulled down a heavy rifle, a Khislack .370. A flick of a switch turned on the targeting computer. On silent feet, Maddox backed up, climbing over his bed and moving onto the far side. He aimed at the wall. The computer gave him an image of a man in body armor tiptoeing toward the bedroom door, holding a tangler in one hand and a force blade in the other.

With the barrel aimed at the wall, Maddox fired three times, each shot making the Khislack buck in his hands. The targeting computer told him the story as the heavy bullets blew through the wall. The home invader staggered, made a gurgling sound and slumped onto the tiles. They were both dead now.

What about the driver in his van?

Had Octavian Nerva just sent Maddox a message with this attack?

The panic in Maddox’s brain changed to rage. If he’d been thinking with his normal coolness, he might have reconsidered his actions. The captain sprinted for the living room. A frozen snarl spoke of his resolve. The Khislack felt good in his hands. He’d taken down the hunters with it. Now it was time to finish the job. As he rounded the corner, he remembered the van’s radar.

The driver must know I’m coming.

His momentum was too much for him to stop in time. So Maddox dropped, lying down on the floor. As he did, the air-van’s machine guns blazed. Heavy rounds shattered the walls, breaking plaster, vases, the couch, paintings, a piano and various mementos from past missions.

With his head down, with dust, pieces of plaster and piano splinters striking his hair, Maddox fired blindly at the van. A second later, he realized how seriously outgunned he was. He could only believe he was still alive because the other had forgotten to link the machine guns with the radar.

Maddox slithered backward.

Machine gun bullets now began chewing the floor where he’d been. Spouts of destruction raced at him as the rounds tore synthi-wood flooring and the concrete underneath. He rolled frantically to the left. The flooring splintered beside him where he’d just been, slivers pelting his ribs, sticking in his skin.

Some of his famous cool began to reassert itself. I’m dead if I don’t think.

With deliberation, Maddox lifted the Khislack, using the targeting computer. He fixed on the van and fired three rapid shots. The titanium-jacketed rounds would easily slice through the walls, striking the van’s armored windshield. Likely, the rounds couldn’t penetrate that immediately. He would have to hammer his way in. Maddox knew he didn’t have the luxury of time to do that. Those three shots were only an attempt to rattle the driver. He’d done it once already tonight with the tumbler. Maybe this would give him the margin he needed to escape.

After the third trigger-pull, Maddox was up and running. The machine-gun rounds had already shattered his main door. Lowering a shoulder, Maddox smashed through the remains, cutting his naked skin.

That didn’t matter. Getting deeper into the building did. How badly did the hunter want him? The driver must realize he had broken all kinds of alarms. If he waited around too long, the police would catch him or worse, Star Watch Intelligence.

There’s only one person I can speak to about this.

As Maddox reached the inner stairwell, he knew what he had to do.