Noonan bit her lower lip. “I heard several of our bombers hailing the New Men. Answering pulses returned from the enemy craft.”
“What’s this?” Fletcher asked. “You’re suggesting those bombers were in communication with the New Men?”
“I suggest nothing, Admiral,” Noonan said. “I’m just reporting what I saw. I watched a squadron of bombers detach from the wave of strikefighters heading at the enemy vessels. That squadron moved away even as Commodore Franks on Mothership Constellation gave them orders to attack. I’m not sure, but I think Franks trained his lasers on the errant bombers.”
“What do you mean, think?” Fletcher asked, his features contorted with rage.
“Constellation gained sensor lock on the wayward bombers,” Noonan said. “Then, I heard Franks accuse Commander Miles of treachery. Before the mothership’s lasers could fire, the New Men destroyed the giant carrier under a combined barrage. Afterward, they demolished the attacking strikefighters. Within forty minutes of their arrival in the system, the New Men had annihilated the remaining ships of our battle group.”
Noonan looked up, scanning those gathered in the chamber. “Three enemy vessels demolished a greater number of our ships without suffering any harm in turn. They annihilated us with an ease I wouldn’t have believed unless I was part of it.”
“Wait, wait,” Fletcher said. “You must back up. What happened to the other lifeboats and to Commander Miles’ bombers?”
Noonan cocked her head and stared into the distance. “The New Men beamed every lifeboat but mine. The last bombers… they approached the enemy vessels and landed in a docking bay. Afterward, the three ships left, heading back to the Pan System.”
“Did the New Men order the bombers to land?” Fletcher asked.
“If they did, I didn’t hear it,” Noonan said. “In my opinion, Commander Miles went willingly.”
Lord High Admiral Cook stepped near as he indicated an empty chair.
Noonan stared at him for a moment before sitting down in it.
The Lord High Admiral glowered at the others. “All right, then. You’ve heard what I’ve heard. There are several troubling elements to the story. I’m sure each of you has reached the same conclusion I have, but I will enumerate the problems. Compared to us, the invaders have seriously advanced weaponry. It allowed three of their ships to destroy masses of ours: a fleet composed of fourteen capital ships. I am inclined to pull our other groups back. I fear trying to beat the enemy in a battle of maneuver. The New Men are far better than us at recovering from Jump Lag in every way. Yet, the worst problem is this: we clearly have spies in our midst, traitors helping the New Men. How else did the enemy know to guard the Pan-Aphrodite route? It would appear that Commander Miles on Mothership Constellation communicated with them in some fashion. That the New Men were able to corrupt Star Watch combat officers would seem to mean they have an active secret service among us. It would also appear that they have full knowledge about Earth. In return, except for the color of their skin, we know nothing about them.”
Lord High Admiral Cook rapped his knuckles against the table. “This is a dire situation, people. Before we move against them again, we will have to come up with a plan on how to defeat vastly superior ships. What’s more, we must figure out a way to keep them from learning our secrets.”
Silence filled the chamber as his words sank in.
Finally, Admiral Fletcher stirred. “Sir,” he said.
“Go head, Admiral.”
“What if the New Men don’t wait for us to move, but they invade Commonwealth territory first?”
“Exactly,” Cook said. He looked from right to left, taking his time doing it as he stared at each person in turn. Finally, he said, “I’m open to suggestions, people. Because if the New Men invade us, I don’t know what we can do to stop them.”
-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.