The Lost World, page 21
She shrugged. Valerie hated gambling, but she didn’t have much choice now did she?
Valerie exited the bridge and returned to Pod 7, sealing herself in. Through the pod’s small viewport, she watched as the hours ticked by.
Finally, after 4 hours and 42 minutes, the star cruiser towing the Kit Carson began to move. There had been a good chance the New Men would park the Kit Carson here. That didn’t seem to be the case, or not yet, anyway. The star cruiser’s massive engines flared to life, pushing it toward the Earthlike moon orbiting the gas giant, towing the Kit Carson with it. This was her chance.
Valerie waited until another hour passed and then initiated the pod’s launch sequence. The explosive bolts fired, propelling the pod away from the trader. She activated the pod’s systems, powering up and maneuvering to the Laumer Point.
Minutes later, the trader’s Laumer Drive came online. Valerie knew because a shimmering portal blossomed in space before her—the mouth of the wormhole.
Valerie fired the pod’s thrusters, pushing it toward the swirling vortex. It took time, too much really. The trader’s Laumer Drive could shut down at any moment. That would close the Laumer Point.
As if thinking it jinxed her, the texture of the wormhole’s swirl changed. No, no, Valerie couldn’t afford that. Then her pod’s control panel beeped an alarm.
What did that mean? Had the New Men spotted her, sent harsh jammers against the pod?
Valerie swallowed, studying the controls. No, this was worse than any of her fears. This was an unstable wormhole. That could mean it cycled to different regions depending on various gravitational or temporal factors.
Valerie closed her eyes, and then opened them. It might not matter if the Laumer Drive on the trader didn’t—
Before she could finish the thought, the escape pod crossed the event horizon, alarms blaring. The gravitational stresses threatened to tear the small craft apart. This was an unstable wormhole all right. That could mean it could crush the pod.
Before Valerie could worry more, she blanked out.
When reality reasserted itself and she woke up, Valerie found herself in an unfamiliar star system, the Laumer Point behind her collapsing.
Valerie had escaped, but at what cost? This didn’t seem like the star system where the Cheng Ho buoy was located. Worse, she was alone, adrift in unknown space, with no way to contact Star Watch, or anyone else for that matter.
As the pod’s systems began cataloging the surrounding stellar bodies, Valerie allowed herself a moment of uncertainty. Had she traded certain capture for certain death? Or could she find a way to turn this desperate gambit into her crew’s salvation?
With a deep breath, Valerie pushed aside her doubts. She was a Patrol officer, trained to face the unknown.
“Then that’s what I’ll do.”
Her voice sounded hollow in the pod. Just how long could she survive in here? If no ships passed by, or if the New Men found her…
Valerie felt faint. This could have been the stupidest idea of her life. She was lost out in the Beyond in a tiny escape pod. Damn, but she did not give her chances as good.
-4-
The following was an encoded transmission from Lord Hermes, to His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Trahey of the Throne World.
To His Most Exalted and Genetically Superior Majesty, Emperor Trahey,
I trust this communication finds you in a state of perfect genetic harmony, your superior intellect ever focused on the grand designs that will elevate our species to its rightful place among the stars.
It is with great pleasure and no small measure of pride that I report a significant victory in our ongoing campaign to rid the galaxy of the genetic detritus that dares to call itself “humanity.” Our glorious Star Cruiser Olympian Thunderbolt has successfully intercepted and captured a Commonwealth scout vessel, the Kit Carson, in the Primus Venatoris System.
While the ship’s commander, a female of their species (how quaint that they still allow such inferior creatures to hold positions of authority), managed to escape through means yet to be determined, we have secured two prime specimens from Captain Maddox’s crew. Both are males, relatively young by their pitiful standards, identified as Sergeant Treggason Riker and Lieutenant Keith Maker.
These specimens, while woefully inadequate compared to even our lowest genetic echelons, present us with a unique opportunity. I humbly propose that we transport these creatures to the Game Preserve on Bestia Rex. There, they will be released to fend for themselves among the other human chattel we have gathered for our sport.
Now, I present Your Majesty with two tantalizing options for your consideration:
One: After a period of four standard months, allowing these specimens to acclimate to their new environment and perhaps develop some semblance of survival skills, Your Majesty could grace us with your presence for a most exhilarating hunt. Imagine the thrill of pursuing these desperate creatures through the carefully crafted terrains of our preserve, their futile attempts at evasion serving only to heighten the inevitable triumph of our superior genetics.
Two: Alternatively, we could use these captured crewmembers as bait to lure the infamous Captain Maddox to our hunting grounds. While Maddox is but an insect compared to our greatness, his reputation among the lesser humans makes him a prize worthy of Your Majesty’s attention. The psychological torment we could inflict by forcing him to watch as we hunt his crew before turning our sights on him would be a spectacle of unparalleled magnificence.
I await Your Majesty’s decision with bated breath. Rest assured, whatever you choose, it shall be executed with the utmost precision and devotion to our sacred cause of genetic purification.
In closing, allow me to reaffirm my unwavering loyalty to Your Majesty and our sacred mission. Each day, I am reminded of the vast gulf that separates us from these primitive beings, who dare to challenge our dominion over the cosmos. Their very existence is an affront to the natural order we seek to impose upon the universe.
Soon, very soon, we shall cleanse the galaxy of their genetic imperfection, leaving only the purity of our superior bloodline as the rightful inheritors of the stars.
May your genes forever reign supreme, Lord Hermes.
Star Watch Intelligence Update: In light of later events, this proved to be an encoded deception message, telling the Emperor the secret project had received an infusion of workers. This shows the depths to which the New Men went in disguising their true intentions—Intelligence Chief General Mackinder, reporting.
-5-
In a hold aboard the Star Cruiser Olympian Thunderbolt, a different process was taking place from what Lord Hermes had informed Emperor Trahey. This included Sergeant Treggason Riker:
Riker looked down as his jaw clenched. A golden-skinned bastard in a silver suit strutted in front of them. The New Man’s chiseled features twisted into a sneer as he addressed them, the prisoners from the Kit Carson. Interestingly enough, that didn’t include Valerie.
Earlier, Riker had barely stopped Keith from asking their captors about her. If Valerie had escaped, they needed to keep that a secret for as long as possible.
The New Man ceased his strutting as he faced them. “Listen up, premen. Your sad lives now have purpose. You’ll work hard, or you won’t eat. That should be enough for you. I’ll add this in case one or two of you have a smattering of curiosity. You shall share in the glory of our objective and perhaps even gain in status through it. You have no idea how privileged you are to be here at this momentous occurrence.”
Riker glanced sidelong at Keith.
The lieutenant was still in agony regarding Valerie’s status. Likely, Keith had been hoping to learn something, as he feared she was dead or perhaps as bad, heading for a New Man’s harem.
Riker studied the rest of the Kit Carson’s crew. They huddled together, eyes downcast, having already faced rough handling from the New Men who had captured the scout.
Riker muttered under his breath, earning a discharge from a compact white instrument a little larger than a pistol, although this weapon was smooth and elongated, with several settings upon it.
A New Man guard must have been watching him, not liking his looking about. Pain exploded across his back, but Riker bit back a groan.
The overseer New Man ceased talking, gesturing to the guard.
Everyone turned to look.
“Now’s a good time to introduce them to the neuron whip,” the overseer said.
“I used the lowest setting,” the guard said, as he held up the smooth white instrument.
“Perhaps he needs another lash at the second lowest setting so he can perceive the differences,” the overseer said. “Feeling is believing for the likes of them.”
“You,” the guard said.
Riker knew the New Man meant him, and he knew the guard knew he knew. Sweat beaded Riker’s face from the first lash of the neuron whip. He turned to face the guard.
“Shall I administer the second setting?” the guard asked.
“No, Lord,” Riker said in as contrite a voice as he could manage. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
“Face me,” the overseer said.
They all did, including Riker.
“That is the neuron whip,” the overseer said. “Depending on the setting, it can send a preman reeling, to knees, unconscious or dead. Yet, it will never leave a mark upon you, just triggering the pain regions in what some of you call a brain. Do your tasks, and you will gain rewards, such as extra food or a second cup of water. Fail to do anything we demand and the neuron whip will be your punishment instead. Rejoice in your fate however you chose, but remember to leap with obedience once ordered by one of us.”
He surveyed them like a cattle rancher inspecting his herd.
“Follow me,” the overseer said. “Do not dawdle, or you shall be the object lesson next time.”
The two New Men thereupon herded them down several corridors, into a hangar bay and onto a waiting shuttle. The New Men didn’t bother with handcuffs or restraints of any kind, nor did more guards join them. Of course, the unseen pilot in the cockpit must have been another New Man.
As Riker sat down on a seat, he was sure the bastards wanted them to try something. There was no point, though, really. None of them could defeat a New Man. Probably not even three of them could handle one of the golden-skinned supermen. At this point, the crew of the Kit Carson probably couldn’t subdue one even if they all fought hand-to-hand, never mind that hideous neuron whip.
As the shuttle lifted off the hangar bay deck, Riker pressed his face against a small viewport. Now he was wishing he’d never joined the Kit Carson. He should have stayed on Earth and taken his chances with the Butcher. It was too late for that, though. This was a terrible fate.
The shuttle exited the star cruiser.
Through the porthole, Riker noted a massive gas giant, its swirling storms dwarfing anything he’d seen on Jupiter. Were they headed for a space station orbiting the gas giant?
After a few minutes, he saw that the shuttle headed for a huge moon with Earthlike features: blue, green and desert yellow. In time, the shuttle shook as it entered the moon’s heavier atmosphere.
Riker had heard before how some New Men liked hunting men, letting them run free as they stalked the humans as big game animals. Could that be their fate?
No, Riker didn’t think so. The lesson with the neuron whip and the talk indicated they would have to work at something.
He kept watching.
Soon enough, he spied an endless expanse of jungle that stretched from one horizon to the next. In a way, it reminded him of the planet in the pocket universe. The color of the leaves was different, and he didn’t see any crystal spires. That was a relief.
Abruptly, the shuttle began plummeting, which caused Riker’s stomach to lurch. A few of the others cried out.
The nearest New Man smirked, surely believing this was yet another mark of their superiority over regular men.
That meant this was part of the journey, not some accident. Riker eased up in his seat the better to look down through the tiny window.
The shuttle headed for a colossal pit. It seemed like strip miners had cleared the jungle vegetation, as the jungle circled the great pit. Wait. Riker noticed impossible structures along the edges. The structures were huge and alien.
As the shuttle slowed and neared the pit, the structures proved to be mighty ruins. Why would the New Men have excavated the pit in such a way that these colossal ruins ringed it? That seemed odd, freaky maybe. What had been on the surface of the pit before the excavation?
Riker gulped as he studied the alien ruins.
Some of the structures appeared to be twisted spires composed of an unknown material. They caught the sunlight, seeming to bend reality.
A chill ran down Riker, a feeling of wrongness that went beyond the dire situation of his capture. There was something here. The New Men searched for something…
Riker shuddered. It felt as if the New Men searched for something ancient and possibly evil. It set his teeth on edge. He couldn’t name it, but…
Riker turned to Keith beside him. “You feel that?” he whispered.
Keith stared at him.
“What’s wrong with you?” Riker whispered.
Keith shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut before opening them and staring at Riker. “I feel like I’m never going to see Valerie again.”
Riker frowned.
Keith glanced sidelong at the nearest New Man before regarding Riker again. “I know. I know. I won’t talk about her anymore.”
“Good,” Riker whispered. “Do you feel anything else?”
After a moment, Keith shook his head.
Riker found that odd and turned back to the window. He watched as the shuttle sank into the pit, noted the stony texture of the dirt wall, and then the shuttle touched down, the engine whining less before shutting off.
“Arise,” the overseer said. “It is time to view your new home.”
Riker filed off with the others onto alien soil. It was packed down dirt and stones at the bottom of the giant pit. The air was thick with the smells of unfamiliar jungle vegetation and dislodged soil. Ahead loomed their destination—a building constructed from massive logs. There was heavy machinery nearby, incongruous with the old-style building.
“Quicken your pace,” the overseer said, “or enjoy the pain of the neuron whip.”
The small crew of the Kit Carson jogged faster, a broken parade of the defeated. Riker tried to catalog details, searching for any kind of weaknesses. The pit walls rose eighty feet or more around them, those unsettling ruins on the periphery, watching everything, it seemed.
Riker figured if Ludendorff could get a look at the ruins, the Methuselah Man would know what this place had been. Ludendorff would probably know what the New Men sought to dig up, too.
The log hall’s main door creaked open.
They jogged in and stopped on command.
The place was like an old Viking hall, divided by partitions, but more of a cavernous chamber. There were New Men, but mostly hollow-eyed humans in filthy garments that flinched at every movement of the towering New Men. The older prisoners bore the marks of brutal labor, others the telltale signs of malnutrition and disease.
What had the New Men been doing to bring these people to such a sorry state?
The others must be the crews of the trade ship and the Cheng Ho. Could Emily be among them, a waif of her former self? For the first time, Riker hoped she wasn’t here.
“Where are we?” Keith whispered. “What have they done to these people?”
Riker’s response was cut short by a shove from behind, sending him stumbling toward the defeated humanity. The stench of unwashed bodies and hopelessness was overwhelming.
A New Man with a sun-shaped badge clipped to his silver suit stepped up. He seemed gaunter than was normal for his kind and with staring, possibly even haunted eyes.
That was more than strange. It struck Riker as ominous.
“Welcome to your new home, premen,” the gaunt New Man said. “Tomorrow, you begin labor in the mines. Serve well, and you may yet prove yourselves worthy of existence.”
He waited, observing them.
Riker looked down so the New Man wouldn’t see the hatred in his eyes. The bastard could probably tell anyway.
“Now,” the gaunt New Man said, “you will be assigned to your sleeping area. Cause any problems and you will receive further education.”
Riker shook his head, muttering under his breath.
The New Man with the sun symbol focused on Riker. “That is a troublemaker. He reeks of it.”
Before Riker could react, a device pressed against his neck. White-hot agony exploded through his nerves, dropping him to his knees.
“Enough,” the gaunt New Man said. “Perhaps the preman is capable of training. Let us test the idea and see if he can earn our good graces.”
The pain receded, leaving Riker gasping on the floor. He looked up to see Keith and the others watching helplessly.
Riker struggled to his feet. Everything hurt. Damn those neuron whips. He looked up to see the gaunt New Man with the sun symbol watching him. Riker knew the correct response, and looked down.
“That is a beginning,” the New Man said. “You are learning your place. Excellent.”
Riker rejoined Keith and the others, moving to an open floor area, surrounded by broken humanity. He searched for Emily but couldn’t find anyone who resembled her. Then he looked for signs of defiance in the others. If they were going to survive this hellhole, allies would help. But Riker couldn’t see anyone with any fire left in them.
As he lay on a mat, Riker thought about that. The mines loomed in their future, promising backbreaking labor and something unforeseen.
What was going on down here? It must have something to do with the alien ruins.
You’ve been through worse, Riker told himself. He’d be damned if he’d let the golden-skinned supermen win.
Besides, the New Men hadn’t captured Valerie. Surely, that meant she had escaped. Could Valerie find a way back to the Commonwealth to alert Star Watch about this?
Valerie exited the bridge and returned to Pod 7, sealing herself in. Through the pod’s small viewport, she watched as the hours ticked by.
Finally, after 4 hours and 42 minutes, the star cruiser towing the Kit Carson began to move. There had been a good chance the New Men would park the Kit Carson here. That didn’t seem to be the case, or not yet, anyway. The star cruiser’s massive engines flared to life, pushing it toward the Earthlike moon orbiting the gas giant, towing the Kit Carson with it. This was her chance.
Valerie waited until another hour passed and then initiated the pod’s launch sequence. The explosive bolts fired, propelling the pod away from the trader. She activated the pod’s systems, powering up and maneuvering to the Laumer Point.
Minutes later, the trader’s Laumer Drive came online. Valerie knew because a shimmering portal blossomed in space before her—the mouth of the wormhole.
Valerie fired the pod’s thrusters, pushing it toward the swirling vortex. It took time, too much really. The trader’s Laumer Drive could shut down at any moment. That would close the Laumer Point.
As if thinking it jinxed her, the texture of the wormhole’s swirl changed. No, no, Valerie couldn’t afford that. Then her pod’s control panel beeped an alarm.
What did that mean? Had the New Men spotted her, sent harsh jammers against the pod?
Valerie swallowed, studying the controls. No, this was worse than any of her fears. This was an unstable wormhole. That could mean it cycled to different regions depending on various gravitational or temporal factors.
Valerie closed her eyes, and then opened them. It might not matter if the Laumer Drive on the trader didn’t—
Before she could finish the thought, the escape pod crossed the event horizon, alarms blaring. The gravitational stresses threatened to tear the small craft apart. This was an unstable wormhole all right. That could mean it could crush the pod.
Before Valerie could worry more, she blanked out.
When reality reasserted itself and she woke up, Valerie found herself in an unfamiliar star system, the Laumer Point behind her collapsing.
Valerie had escaped, but at what cost? This didn’t seem like the star system where the Cheng Ho buoy was located. Worse, she was alone, adrift in unknown space, with no way to contact Star Watch, or anyone else for that matter.
As the pod’s systems began cataloging the surrounding stellar bodies, Valerie allowed herself a moment of uncertainty. Had she traded certain capture for certain death? Or could she find a way to turn this desperate gambit into her crew’s salvation?
With a deep breath, Valerie pushed aside her doubts. She was a Patrol officer, trained to face the unknown.
“Then that’s what I’ll do.”
Her voice sounded hollow in the pod. Just how long could she survive in here? If no ships passed by, or if the New Men found her…
Valerie felt faint. This could have been the stupidest idea of her life. She was lost out in the Beyond in a tiny escape pod. Damn, but she did not give her chances as good.
-4-
The following was an encoded transmission from Lord Hermes, to His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Trahey of the Throne World.
To His Most Exalted and Genetically Superior Majesty, Emperor Trahey,
I trust this communication finds you in a state of perfect genetic harmony, your superior intellect ever focused on the grand designs that will elevate our species to its rightful place among the stars.
It is with great pleasure and no small measure of pride that I report a significant victory in our ongoing campaign to rid the galaxy of the genetic detritus that dares to call itself “humanity.” Our glorious Star Cruiser Olympian Thunderbolt has successfully intercepted and captured a Commonwealth scout vessel, the Kit Carson, in the Primus Venatoris System.
While the ship’s commander, a female of their species (how quaint that they still allow such inferior creatures to hold positions of authority), managed to escape through means yet to be determined, we have secured two prime specimens from Captain Maddox’s crew. Both are males, relatively young by their pitiful standards, identified as Sergeant Treggason Riker and Lieutenant Keith Maker.
These specimens, while woefully inadequate compared to even our lowest genetic echelons, present us with a unique opportunity. I humbly propose that we transport these creatures to the Game Preserve on Bestia Rex. There, they will be released to fend for themselves among the other human chattel we have gathered for our sport.
Now, I present Your Majesty with two tantalizing options for your consideration:
One: After a period of four standard months, allowing these specimens to acclimate to their new environment and perhaps develop some semblance of survival skills, Your Majesty could grace us with your presence for a most exhilarating hunt. Imagine the thrill of pursuing these desperate creatures through the carefully crafted terrains of our preserve, their futile attempts at evasion serving only to heighten the inevitable triumph of our superior genetics.
Two: Alternatively, we could use these captured crewmembers as bait to lure the infamous Captain Maddox to our hunting grounds. While Maddox is but an insect compared to our greatness, his reputation among the lesser humans makes him a prize worthy of Your Majesty’s attention. The psychological torment we could inflict by forcing him to watch as we hunt his crew before turning our sights on him would be a spectacle of unparalleled magnificence.
I await Your Majesty’s decision with bated breath. Rest assured, whatever you choose, it shall be executed with the utmost precision and devotion to our sacred cause of genetic purification.
In closing, allow me to reaffirm my unwavering loyalty to Your Majesty and our sacred mission. Each day, I am reminded of the vast gulf that separates us from these primitive beings, who dare to challenge our dominion over the cosmos. Their very existence is an affront to the natural order we seek to impose upon the universe.
Soon, very soon, we shall cleanse the galaxy of their genetic imperfection, leaving only the purity of our superior bloodline as the rightful inheritors of the stars.
May your genes forever reign supreme, Lord Hermes.
Star Watch Intelligence Update: In light of later events, this proved to be an encoded deception message, telling the Emperor the secret project had received an infusion of workers. This shows the depths to which the New Men went in disguising their true intentions—Intelligence Chief General Mackinder, reporting.
-5-
In a hold aboard the Star Cruiser Olympian Thunderbolt, a different process was taking place from what Lord Hermes had informed Emperor Trahey. This included Sergeant Treggason Riker:
Riker looked down as his jaw clenched. A golden-skinned bastard in a silver suit strutted in front of them. The New Man’s chiseled features twisted into a sneer as he addressed them, the prisoners from the Kit Carson. Interestingly enough, that didn’t include Valerie.
Earlier, Riker had barely stopped Keith from asking their captors about her. If Valerie had escaped, they needed to keep that a secret for as long as possible.
The New Man ceased his strutting as he faced them. “Listen up, premen. Your sad lives now have purpose. You’ll work hard, or you won’t eat. That should be enough for you. I’ll add this in case one or two of you have a smattering of curiosity. You shall share in the glory of our objective and perhaps even gain in status through it. You have no idea how privileged you are to be here at this momentous occurrence.”
Riker glanced sidelong at Keith.
The lieutenant was still in agony regarding Valerie’s status. Likely, Keith had been hoping to learn something, as he feared she was dead or perhaps as bad, heading for a New Man’s harem.
Riker studied the rest of the Kit Carson’s crew. They huddled together, eyes downcast, having already faced rough handling from the New Men who had captured the scout.
Riker muttered under his breath, earning a discharge from a compact white instrument a little larger than a pistol, although this weapon was smooth and elongated, with several settings upon it.
A New Man guard must have been watching him, not liking his looking about. Pain exploded across his back, but Riker bit back a groan.
The overseer New Man ceased talking, gesturing to the guard.
Everyone turned to look.
“Now’s a good time to introduce them to the neuron whip,” the overseer said.
“I used the lowest setting,” the guard said, as he held up the smooth white instrument.
“Perhaps he needs another lash at the second lowest setting so he can perceive the differences,” the overseer said. “Feeling is believing for the likes of them.”
“You,” the guard said.
Riker knew the New Man meant him, and he knew the guard knew he knew. Sweat beaded Riker’s face from the first lash of the neuron whip. He turned to face the guard.
“Shall I administer the second setting?” the guard asked.
“No, Lord,” Riker said in as contrite a voice as he could manage. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
“Face me,” the overseer said.
They all did, including Riker.
“That is the neuron whip,” the overseer said. “Depending on the setting, it can send a preman reeling, to knees, unconscious or dead. Yet, it will never leave a mark upon you, just triggering the pain regions in what some of you call a brain. Do your tasks, and you will gain rewards, such as extra food or a second cup of water. Fail to do anything we demand and the neuron whip will be your punishment instead. Rejoice in your fate however you chose, but remember to leap with obedience once ordered by one of us.”
He surveyed them like a cattle rancher inspecting his herd.
“Follow me,” the overseer said. “Do not dawdle, or you shall be the object lesson next time.”
The two New Men thereupon herded them down several corridors, into a hangar bay and onto a waiting shuttle. The New Men didn’t bother with handcuffs or restraints of any kind, nor did more guards join them. Of course, the unseen pilot in the cockpit must have been another New Man.
As Riker sat down on a seat, he was sure the bastards wanted them to try something. There was no point, though, really. None of them could defeat a New Man. Probably not even three of them could handle one of the golden-skinned supermen. At this point, the crew of the Kit Carson probably couldn’t subdue one even if they all fought hand-to-hand, never mind that hideous neuron whip.
As the shuttle lifted off the hangar bay deck, Riker pressed his face against a small viewport. Now he was wishing he’d never joined the Kit Carson. He should have stayed on Earth and taken his chances with the Butcher. It was too late for that, though. This was a terrible fate.
The shuttle exited the star cruiser.
Through the porthole, Riker noted a massive gas giant, its swirling storms dwarfing anything he’d seen on Jupiter. Were they headed for a space station orbiting the gas giant?
After a few minutes, he saw that the shuttle headed for a huge moon with Earthlike features: blue, green and desert yellow. In time, the shuttle shook as it entered the moon’s heavier atmosphere.
Riker had heard before how some New Men liked hunting men, letting them run free as they stalked the humans as big game animals. Could that be their fate?
No, Riker didn’t think so. The lesson with the neuron whip and the talk indicated they would have to work at something.
He kept watching.
Soon enough, he spied an endless expanse of jungle that stretched from one horizon to the next. In a way, it reminded him of the planet in the pocket universe. The color of the leaves was different, and he didn’t see any crystal spires. That was a relief.
Abruptly, the shuttle began plummeting, which caused Riker’s stomach to lurch. A few of the others cried out.
The nearest New Man smirked, surely believing this was yet another mark of their superiority over regular men.
That meant this was part of the journey, not some accident. Riker eased up in his seat the better to look down through the tiny window.
The shuttle headed for a colossal pit. It seemed like strip miners had cleared the jungle vegetation, as the jungle circled the great pit. Wait. Riker noticed impossible structures along the edges. The structures were huge and alien.
As the shuttle slowed and neared the pit, the structures proved to be mighty ruins. Why would the New Men have excavated the pit in such a way that these colossal ruins ringed it? That seemed odd, freaky maybe. What had been on the surface of the pit before the excavation?
Riker gulped as he studied the alien ruins.
Some of the structures appeared to be twisted spires composed of an unknown material. They caught the sunlight, seeming to bend reality.
A chill ran down Riker, a feeling of wrongness that went beyond the dire situation of his capture. There was something here. The New Men searched for something…
Riker shuddered. It felt as if the New Men searched for something ancient and possibly evil. It set his teeth on edge. He couldn’t name it, but…
Riker turned to Keith beside him. “You feel that?” he whispered.
Keith stared at him.
“What’s wrong with you?” Riker whispered.
Keith shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut before opening them and staring at Riker. “I feel like I’m never going to see Valerie again.”
Riker frowned.
Keith glanced sidelong at the nearest New Man before regarding Riker again. “I know. I know. I won’t talk about her anymore.”
“Good,” Riker whispered. “Do you feel anything else?”
After a moment, Keith shook his head.
Riker found that odd and turned back to the window. He watched as the shuttle sank into the pit, noted the stony texture of the dirt wall, and then the shuttle touched down, the engine whining less before shutting off.
“Arise,” the overseer said. “It is time to view your new home.”
Riker filed off with the others onto alien soil. It was packed down dirt and stones at the bottom of the giant pit. The air was thick with the smells of unfamiliar jungle vegetation and dislodged soil. Ahead loomed their destination—a building constructed from massive logs. There was heavy machinery nearby, incongruous with the old-style building.
“Quicken your pace,” the overseer said, “or enjoy the pain of the neuron whip.”
The small crew of the Kit Carson jogged faster, a broken parade of the defeated. Riker tried to catalog details, searching for any kind of weaknesses. The pit walls rose eighty feet or more around them, those unsettling ruins on the periphery, watching everything, it seemed.
Riker figured if Ludendorff could get a look at the ruins, the Methuselah Man would know what this place had been. Ludendorff would probably know what the New Men sought to dig up, too.
The log hall’s main door creaked open.
They jogged in and stopped on command.
The place was like an old Viking hall, divided by partitions, but more of a cavernous chamber. There were New Men, but mostly hollow-eyed humans in filthy garments that flinched at every movement of the towering New Men. The older prisoners bore the marks of brutal labor, others the telltale signs of malnutrition and disease.
What had the New Men been doing to bring these people to such a sorry state?
The others must be the crews of the trade ship and the Cheng Ho. Could Emily be among them, a waif of her former self? For the first time, Riker hoped she wasn’t here.
“Where are we?” Keith whispered. “What have they done to these people?”
Riker’s response was cut short by a shove from behind, sending him stumbling toward the defeated humanity. The stench of unwashed bodies and hopelessness was overwhelming.
A New Man with a sun-shaped badge clipped to his silver suit stepped up. He seemed gaunter than was normal for his kind and with staring, possibly even haunted eyes.
That was more than strange. It struck Riker as ominous.
“Welcome to your new home, premen,” the gaunt New Man said. “Tomorrow, you begin labor in the mines. Serve well, and you may yet prove yourselves worthy of existence.”
He waited, observing them.
Riker looked down so the New Man wouldn’t see the hatred in his eyes. The bastard could probably tell anyway.
“Now,” the gaunt New Man said, “you will be assigned to your sleeping area. Cause any problems and you will receive further education.”
Riker shook his head, muttering under his breath.
The New Man with the sun symbol focused on Riker. “That is a troublemaker. He reeks of it.”
Before Riker could react, a device pressed against his neck. White-hot agony exploded through his nerves, dropping him to his knees.
“Enough,” the gaunt New Man said. “Perhaps the preman is capable of training. Let us test the idea and see if he can earn our good graces.”
The pain receded, leaving Riker gasping on the floor. He looked up to see Keith and the others watching helplessly.
Riker struggled to his feet. Everything hurt. Damn those neuron whips. He looked up to see the gaunt New Man with the sun symbol watching him. Riker knew the correct response, and looked down.
“That is a beginning,” the New Man said. “You are learning your place. Excellent.”
Riker rejoined Keith and the others, moving to an open floor area, surrounded by broken humanity. He searched for Emily but couldn’t find anyone who resembled her. Then he looked for signs of defiance in the others. If they were going to survive this hellhole, allies would help. But Riker couldn’t see anyone with any fire left in them.
As he lay on a mat, Riker thought about that. The mines loomed in their future, promising backbreaking labor and something unforeseen.
What was going on down here? It must have something to do with the alien ruins.
You’ve been through worse, Riker told himself. He’d be damned if he’d let the golden-skinned supermen win.
Besides, the New Men hadn’t captured Valerie. Surely, that meant she had escaped. Could Valerie find a way back to the Commonwealth to alert Star Watch about this?
