The Lost Patrol (2 page)

“The destroyer’s comm officer wants to know what’s wrong with the yacht,” the New Man explained. “She’s asking why they’re heading into the atmosphere. Don’t they know Neptune’s gravity will crush the craft?”

Strand ingested the news in silence. Despite the distant Star Watch destroyer, no one had seen the stealth torpedo or guessed the existence of the cloaked star cruiser. He would leave the sub-men a grim mystery.

“The Star Watch destroyer is increasing velocity, Master. It is breaking out of the moon’s orbit and heading toward Neptune.”

Strand thought furiously. If the destroyer was fixated on the luxury yacht, its sensor officer might notice the stealth torpedo if it began accelerating.

“Instruct the torpedo pilot to remain in drift mode,” Strand said. “We will go to them. Once we’ve retrieved everyone, we will jump out-system.”

The next fifteen minutes proceeded flawlessly. The star cruiser reached the three floating individuals, hooking them with a tether line. Five minutes after that, the torpedo’s former pilot floated into a hangar bay.

Now, the automated empty torpedo expelled gravity waves, heading down into the gas giant. The yacht had already imploded, crushed by Neptune’s killing gravity.

“The destroyer has issued a red alert,” the comm specialist said.

Strand stood up, stretching his back. He had his prize. Star Watch had a mystery. What did he care now about red alerts?

“Inform me when you’re ready to jump,” Strand said. “I’m going to greet our new guest.”

The Methuselah Man headed for the hatch, debating whether he would operate on the subject’s brain or leave the person intact. It was an interesting dilemma. One thing he knew for certain was that everything was going to be different now. Oh, yes, with the subject in his possession, the universe would learn what it meant to anger the greatest man in existence.

-2-

TWO MONTHS LATER

Maddox’s earpiece crackled. He shook his head. The ancient Adok AI wasn’t going to give it up so easily, it seemed.

“Captain,” Galyan said in his robotic voice. “Surely, you realize this is rash. I beg you to reconsider. You mustn’t injure yourself.”

Maddox, in a pressurized suit and helmet, was strapped to a seat inside a tiny capsule. The one-man capsule dangled from a stratospheric balloon that climbed rapidly for near-space. He had entered the capsule in a wheat field in Normandy, France. At that point, the helium balloon had stretched fifty-five stories tall, a thin, gangling thing. As the balloon rose, it expanded into a rounder shape. At thirty-seven kilometers from sea level, the balloon would be almost completely round.

“You graduated yesterday,” Galyan said. “Think of the time and money the Patrol people took in retraining you. You must not throw away the costly training in this…this absurd stunt.”

“Relax,” Maddox said. He wore a skin-colored pad on his throat. It was a sub-vocalization unit, allowing him to communicate with Starship
Victory
in its high orbit above him.

“You suggest I relax,” Galyan said, “but I fear the coming danger you are needlessly courting. I wish I could say I do not understand why you are doing this. But I understand very well. My analyzer has determined the issue troubling you.”

“There is no
issue
,” Maddox said. “That’s all in your circuits. I’ve become bored. The Patrol training was tedious, particularly the last few weeks where it was all review. Before I begin a year-long voyage into the Beyond, I want to live a little.”

A little over a year ago, Maddox had transferred out of Star Watch Intelligence into the Patrol. Since the discovery of the Swarm—an entire Imperium of them that apparently included ten percent of the Milky Way Galaxy—High Command had dedicated a greater number of ships to exploration. If the Swarm Imperium was nearby, humanity needed to know it. If the Imperium was far away, humanity needed to know that, too. The expanded Commonwealth of Planets also wanted the coordinates to the New Men’s Throne World…just in case hostilities were renewed with them. Altogether, that meant a fifty-seven percent increase in Patrol voyages into the Beyond.

“I do not accept your ‘tedium’ explanation,” Galyan said. “You have a self-destructive side to your nature. When you are agitated, you tend toward extreme actions. This is a case in point.”

“That’s quite enough, Galyan.”

“But Captain, your life is at issue. I cannot ignore that. Without you at my helm—”

“I’m going to cut communications,” Maddox said.

“That is illogical. I can easily appear in the capsule as a hologram, continuing the conversation. You will listen to what I have to say. It is for your own benefit.”

“Good,” Maddox said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The correct idiom is, ‘I’m doing this for your own good.’”

“Oh. Yes, my data banks agree with you. I have made the correction in my speech center. Thank you, Captain.”

Maddox checked a monitor. The balloon approached its float height. He’d felt a decrease in the rate of ascent. He was in near-space, although he was still in Earth’s atmosphere. The outside air was thin, but still generated enough drag to prevent anyone from deploying satellites at this height. The infinitesimal drag would soon slow any satellite so it plunged to Earth.

Leaning forward, the captain glanced out a tiny porthole. It was dark outside, with the great blue of Earth spreading below. If he went outside in a shirt, the low pressure would turn the liquids in his body tissues to gas. It would be like the time he’d sprinted through a vacuum from a shuttle in one of
Victory’s
hangar bays to a pressurized corridor. Those few seconds had almost killed him.

“Admiral Fletcher’s discovery regarding the New Men has troubled you for over a year already,” Galyan said. “This is simply the latest manifestation.”

Maddox ignored the comment, although he knew the AI referred to the dirty secret learned in the Thebes System of “C” Quadrant.

“The New Men do not sire girls,” Galyan said, “only boys.”

“How fascinating,” Maddox said.

“Sarcasm only proves my contention,” Galyan said. “The implications of the news are obvious. Since the New Men do not sire girls, they kidnap normal women as breeders. But that creates a problem for you, Captain.”

“Nonsense,” Maddox said.

“By necessity, that means every son is genetically half New Man and half regular human, what you refer to at times as a half-breed.”

Maddox studied the monitor. He’d reached maximum altitude. With great care, he rechecked his equipment, making sure the chutes were in place and ready to deploy. The experts considered this dangerous, calling for perfect body control. Ever since hearing that, Maddox had been determined to try.

“I have studied your medical records,” Galyan said, “paying particular attention to your psychological profile. Your mother’s impregnation by a New Man has always troubled you, as you have hated the label of half-breed.”

Behind the visor of his helmet, Maddox’s blue eyes hardened. His mother had escaped from an experimental facility while he’d been in her womb. The event had cost his mother her life.

“My analyzer has played out all the possible scenarios,” Galyan said. “The one with the highest probability is this: You abhor the New Men, but have adjusted to the reality that you have one half their bloodline. Now, with our new data, you believe that you might be a run-of-the-mill, Throne World New Man, as they are all half-breeds. Because of this, you have become more reckless in your choices, the self-destructive issue raising its head.”

“That’s a nice theory,” Maddox said in a bland voice. “But there’s a problem with your analysis.”

“I see no problem.”

“It’s obvious,” Maddox added.

“I can play that game, too, Captain, and I must say that is nonsense.”

“Well
played
, Galyan.”

“Why, thank you, Captain. Your abrupt change in attitude causes me to hope you finally see the wisdom of what I’m saying and will end this madness.”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter to you and your analysis that a New Man has golden skin and that mine is white.”

Galyan fell silent.

“What causes their golden coloration?” Maddox asked.

“A simple—”

“There’s a second problem with your theory,” Maddox said, talking over the AI. “After several generations of interbreeding with genetically regular women, the New Men would have become normal humans themselves, their genetic uniqueness diluted of its so-called superhuman qualities. Unfortunately for your analysis, that isn’t the case. In fact, it’s the reverse. The New Men have become increasingly ‘superior’ to regular humans.”

“It is strange,” Galyan said, “but I had not considered that issue. I find it telling, however, that you already have. You have proved my point. You are worried about being a normative New Man and have already carefully thought out the various possibilities.”

“Wrong,” Maddox said. “My reasoning was a simple matter of quick detective logic. It was elementary, as they say.”

“My analyzer says there is a nineteen percent probability that you are telling me the strict truth.”

“As high as that?” Maddox asked with a hint of sarcasm.

“I see the problem in greater depth now—the idea that there would be genetic dilution given continued breeding with normal women. I am analyzing…Oh. There must be another process involved during the pregnancies. The New Men must modify each fetus in the womb with some type of invasive method.”

“Precisely,” Maddox whispered. Had his mother escaped the test facility soon enough, before he’d received any
Frankenstein
modifications? The idea troubled him. Dwelling on it these past months had brought an old curiosity to the surface. Who was his father? He wanted to know and wasn’t sure why he did.

As if reading his various thoughts, Galyan said, “You must not trouble yourself over these useless concerns. One should only worry about situations he can actively change.”

“I’m not troubling myself,” Maddox said.

“I would like to believe you, Captain. But my analyzer’s highest probability is that you just lied to me again.”

Maddox had heard enough. He unbuckled his straps and rose from his seat. “I’m approaching the hatch,” he said.

“Your capsule is still pressurized,” Galyan warned.

“After I depressurize, of course,” Maddox said.

“In your agitation, did you forget about the pressurization?”

Without a word, Maddox depressurized the compartment. If he’d opened the hatch before doing so, the capsule’s departing atmosphere would have launched him through the opening like a cannonball.

“On further review,” the AI said, “I have decided to bring you up on my own initiative. Your sullen behavior—”

“Galyan,” Maddox said. “You will refrain from such action. Your concern is noted and, in a roundabout way, appreciated.”

“Will you admit that I am right concerning your mother and that your tainted heritage troubles you?”

Maddox hesitated a fraction before he said, “You are an Adok. Thus, you don’t realize that you’ve crossed a line. Please do not do so again.”

“But—”

“That is all,” Maddox said.

A
ping
in his helmet told Maddox it was safe to open the hatch. He waited a half-second before pulling a lever unlocking the wheel. He began to turn it. After the wheel clicked into place, he pushed the hatch, swinging it open and poking his head outside. The Earth spread out below in a glorious panorama. From this height, he noticed the curvature of the planet. Far below him was Europe. If everything went right, he was going to land down there in Normandy.

The moment reminded him of the emergency landing onto Wolf Prime. That had been an adventure. Recalling it, the captain laughed with exultation. It was good to be alive, even despite the…
concern
over his identity this new knowledge about the New Men had brought him, and the desire to find his father.

Maddox didn’t want to think about those things anymore. He grabbed the edges of the opening and propelled himself out. He dropped from the capsule, the balloon quickly fading from sight.

This was more than glorious. It felt as if he hung in space, at peace with the world. That was not the truth, though, the hanging, the floating out here. He gained speed as he dropped.

During the fall, the darkness lessened and he could no longer see the curvature of the Earth. Finally, the sky became normal-colored as he reached denser air.

He’d assumed a skydiving position, subtly moving his limbs and body to stay that way. The G-meter remained green the entire time, a good sign. If he began to spin, the induced gravity might stop the blood flowing to his head and he’d either pass out or die. He had stabilization chutes for such an event, but so far hadn’t needed to deploy them.

Checking a gauge, Maddox saw that he was supersonic. Now, he kept a close eye on his height meter.

“Get ready to deploy your main parachute,” Galyan said shortly.

“Roger,” Maddox said. He’d been ready to do just that, but had decided to throw the AI a bone and let him feel needed.

At eighteen hundred meters, with a Normandy plain below, Maddox gripped the deployment handle. At fifteen hundred meters, he pulled it.

A loud clapping sound and a vicious yank against his shoulders told him the parachute was out. His speed slowed considerably. Soon, he floated toward the ground.

He spied a road and a French tractor moving on it. Then, he spied an air-car. It didn’t belong to his drop team. That one would have had a red flag on the top. This car skimmed over a wheat field, heading toward his landing area.

Maddox readied himself. The ground rushed up, and he hit and rolled, with the billowing silk floating down on top of him.

By the time Maddox climbed out of the silk, the air-car had grounded. A door opened. A uniformed Star Watch officer approached. It was Major Stokes from Intelligence.

Maddox double-checked. Stokes’ hands were empty, neither of them holding a gun. The captain remembered all too well the time Stokes had tried to murder him in the Greenland prison complex.

The major halted as his left leg shivered. The man grabbed his left thigh, clutching it for a long moment before finally, almost experimentally, letting go. He resumed his approach, dragging the left leg.

Maddox found that odd, even a little sinister. He twisted his helmet, detaching it and tossing it to the ground. Afterward, he unzipped the pressurized suit, stepping out of it. The captain was tall and lean, with angularly handsome features.

The major’s left leg shivered once more, but the man ignored it as he advanced.

“His movements are odd,” Galyan said in Maddox’s ear.

Maddox said nothing, watching the approaching major. There was a hole in the left thigh fabric. Had something just happened to Stokes?