“It’s a guess,” Maddox said, “nothing more than that.”

  “If you’re right,” Keith said, “then the Fusion people aren’t fighting other humans. They’re fighting aliens.”

  “That’s a good point,” Maddox said.

  “If the aliens are so superior,” Keith said, “why haven’t they beaten the snot out of the Fusion yet?”

  Maddox shook his head. He didn’t have an answer for that. This was all guesswork and intuition, mostly guesswork this time. He realized something else. The aliens had tricked him with the memories, and maybe tricked his new intuition as well. Ludendorff had been right. The memory-stick satellites had molded his and Valerie’s minds, tampered with them, at least to a degree.

  “We’re going to die, aren’t we?” Keith plopped down beside Riker. “Without water, we’re as good as dead.”

  “We’re not dead yet,” Maddox said stubbornly. His garments were soaked with sweat. They’d all need water come morning or they’d likely collapse from dehydration, but they weren’t out yet and that meant they had to keep trying.

  “The fold-fighter is gone,” Keith said. “We can’t communicate with Victory. Maybe we should try to call the Fusion people. They could conceivably pick us up in time.”

  “Be my guest,” Maddox said. “Call them if you can.”

  Keith stared at Maddox.

  “We can always bargain with our Fusion captors,” Maddox said. “But we can’t bargain if we’re dead of dehydration.”

  “You mean it?” Keith asked.

  Maddox shrugged.

  With an air of renewed hope, Keith took out his hand communicator and tried to call whoever could hear. He received nothing but harsh static in reply.

  “I know we shouldn’t have come,” Riker whispered, who’d been watching Keith.

  Maddox studied the darkness around them. The sergeant had a point. Meta had tried to warn him. Was he going to die this time? Would he ever see Jewel again? The idea of that made him angry.

  “Hey,” Keith said. “I have someone. Hello,” he said into the comm. “Can you hear me.”

  “Yes,” a voice said.

  At the sound, Maddox’s nape hairs rose.

  “Keep your line open,” the voice said. “I will rescue you soon.”

  “We’re in luck,” Keith told the others. “They’re coming to rescue us.”

  Maddox was on his feet. The voice—he lurched at Keith, plucking the comm from him.

  “What are you doing?” Keith demanded. “We’re saved. All we have to do is keep the line open.”

  Maddox set the opened comm on the ground. Then, he went back to Riker and hauled him to his feet.

  “What is this?” Keith said. “What’s wrong now?”

  “Grutch,” Maddox said. “He’s followed us to Remus, but maybe he can’t pinpoint us through the junk in the air. Leave the communicator on, and leave the comm where it is. Gentlemen, we have some hiking to do before Grutch arrives to ‘rescue’ me. Now, let’s go.”

  With that, as he forced Riker to hurry, Maddox high-tailed it through the hot gloomy smog before the Morag could appear.

  -54-

  Grutch chortled to himself aboard the teardrop-shaped stealth ship in orbit around the seething planet. This was too easy.

  From the moment the ship had teleported into position, Grutch had been running planetary scans. He’d expected an Earthlike world, and not so long ago it had been just that. But according to his readings, hell-burners had gone off deep in interior subterranean chambers. Those weapons had caused massive planetary volcanism, spewing millions of tons of ash into the air and causing a change to the planetary weather patterns.

  Surely, human life had all but disappeared on the surface. Maddox and his companions could survive for a few hours anyway. Then, they would all be dead. Finding them would have been next to impossible, as there were strange readings interfering with the normal scans. Grutch had just concluded that the interference was coming from an alien source. Then, when one of the humans had called and he’d answered—

  Grutch chortled again.

  Now, it was just a matter of teleporting to them, collecting Maddox and returning to his ship with the prized cargo. Before Grutch did that, however, he wanted to make sure that his teleporter would work correctly. Something about the situation troubled him.

  He went to the teleport chamber, put a man-sized probe onto the T-pads and depressed a switch. Nothing happened.

  Grutch moved to bulkhead plating, removing several pieces, inspecting the various processors inside. Everything seemed in order.

  He moved to a different area of the chamber, pulling more plates off the wall. He inspected the machines hidden there. All were in working order.

  He recalibrated the teleporter, and this time, the probe left the ship. He waited thirty seconds and almost brought the probe directly back to the chamber.

  Why hadn’t the probe teleported the first time? Perhaps a small test was in order.

  So, instead of bringing the probe back to the chamber, he brought it to just outside the stealth ship.

  He transmitted. The probe appeared in space outside the ship, and three seconds later, the probe detonated.

  Two of Grutch’s eyestalks shot up high in alarm. That was no accident. That was a deliberate attempt to murder him. But if some force had used a probe he’d sent by teleportation—Grutch’s mass swiveled around fast as he warbled commands to the autopilot.

  He then rolled fast toward the control chamber as his stealth ship began an emergency teleportation. The alarms rang, and nothing happened. The ship did not teleport to a new location.

  What did that mean?

  Nothing good, Grutch knew.

  He rolled into the control chamber and called up the holographic controls, beginning to manipulate them.

  Eyestalks bent to different screens. Oh, this was intolerable. The smog and other debris in the air shouldn’t block his sensors like this. Something else blocked them.

  Three eyestalks moved to a side screen. All four tentacles lashed here and there in the chamber. On the screen, he zoomed in to something on the planetary surface. He had to zoom in once more before he saw a giant antenna that rotated with infinite slowness. Grutch pressed a control, and purple lines appeared on the screen, the lines emanating from the giant antenna. The lines fluctuated, wavered—those were alien signals interfering with his sensors.

  Grutch ran a quick test. It was just as he suspected. The interference made it impossible to see Maddox. Luckily, Grutch still had the link with the open communicator.

  Still, that didn’t explain why his stealth ship had failed to teleport.

  Grutch began an emergency diagnostic. He found the problem ten seconds later. An odd ray beamed at his vessel. It came from the planet.

  Tentacles moved rapidly.

  A tele-missile disappeared from outside the teardrop-shaped vessel. The T-missile reappeared on the planet on top of the ray-projecting device. The warhead detonated.

  “Now, you miserable bastard,” Grutch said. “Now, I have you.”

  He plucked a projector, a sonic emitter and translator, and an emergency teleporter from off the wall. These, he drew into his gelatinous mass as the tentacles pulled within like a turtle’s head. Lastly, he used the final tentacle to activate a holographic control.

  His teleportation chamber activated. Grutch disappeared from his stealth ship, reappearing on the rocky surface of Remus.

  Eyestalks popped up, whipping about as he looked everywhere at once. A tentacle appeared with the projector, an eyestalk dedicated to its use as he looked for dangers to beam.

  He saw the human hand-communicator sitting on the rock, lengthening a tentacle to snatch it.

  Grutch did not see any sign of Maddox or his companions. The communicator was a trick. But a trick for what purpose?

  Ah, Grutch believed he understood. Maddox not only knew about the hidden aliens, but was in league with them. Maddox had done this to draw him into a trap.

  Grutch had had no idea that Maddox was so diabolically clever. He communicated with his stealth ship and activated the teleporter. If he failed to leave—Grutch disappeared from the surface of Remus, reappearing in the control chamber of his stealth ship.

  Great drops of oozing liquid dripped from his pink-gray mass. It was fear stain, and it stank horribly. His gelatinous bulk trembled from his fear. If the hidden aliens working in tandem with the damned Maddox had trapped him—

  Grutch concentrated, thinking, wondering if it was best that he leave the star system while he could. Could Maddox be cleverer than his sponsors realized? Or had his sponsors tricked him?

  Tentacles appeared, and seconds later, his stealth ship drew away from Remus. He would observe for a time, becoming the proverbial fly on the wall, acting if he saw an opportunity but otherwise watching and waiting and seeing what he could learn.

  -55-

  Maddox stumbled as he helped Riker around a boulder, using his communicator to provide light. Behind, Keith reeled, crying out as he touched the bandage around his forehead.

  “Captain,” Keith shouted. “Captain!”

  Maddox halted, turning around with Riker. “I’m over here, Lieutenant.”

  Keith staggered around the boulder, stopping when he spied them.

  “Keep up,” Maddox said. “We can’t afford to separate.”

  Keith laughed bleakly, coughing.

  Maddox shook Riker. The sergeant’s head lolled. He shook the sergeant again so the man blinked wearily and moaned with dread.

  “We’re doomed,” panted Keith. He’d finally stopped coughing. “We should have stayed with the fold-fighter. That was our only chance. The smog and heat are killing us.”

  “We’re not doomed,” Maddox said. “Now, keep up like I said. There’s something ahead to help us.”

  “You can’t know that,” Keith said.

  “You mean I shouldn’t know it,” Maddox said. “But I do. It’s… Come on, we don’t have much time before the air does us in.”

  Maddox led the way, shaking Riker again, keeping the sergeant awake. Keith stumbled from behind, perhaps finding it hard to keep his footing on the uneven surface in the dark.

  With the light as his guide, Maddox threaded through a rocky maze and rounded a pair of boulders, spying a glowing bulb ahead that showed off the drifting, smoky air.

  “I’ll be darned,” Keith said. “Light. How did you know there would be light here?”

  Maddox didn’t answer, but continued toward the bulb lighting as he clicked off his communicator and put it away. The path was rocky, hot and smoky, the air making his throat thick and sooty. What had happened to Remus’s millions? Had aliens slaughtered the humans? Why would these aliens remain on the dying planet?

  Soon enough, the three of them stood before the shining light bulb. Under it was a hot iron door, a seemingly thick door set in rock.

  “Who built this?” Keith asked.

  Even as the lieutenant asked it, the thick iron door swung inward, revealing a corridor like on a spaceship. It was lit and clean, inviting.

  Keith stared at Maddox. “This can’t be happening?”

  “No?” asked Maddox.

  “It’s too coincidental,” Keith said. “It’s not rational.”

  “It’s just a door and a corridor,” Maddox said.

  “No,” Keith said stubbornly. “You couldn’t have just led us to this door. Don’t you understand?”

  “Perfectly,” Maddox said. “We came to the one place on the planet with an iron door and tunnel leading to safety.”

  “And you think that’s a coincidence?”

  “Not in the slightest,” Maddox said. “But what are the alternatives? We stay outside in the smoggy heat, waiting for daylight. What if it reaches one hundred and thirty or one hundred and forty? Besides, we can’t survive any of this without water, and that soon.”

  “This is a trap,” Keith said with conviction.

  “I fully realize that, but the alternatives are worse.” Maddox helped a nearly unconscious Riker through the door and into the corridor. He shuffled around. “Coming with us?”

  “Is that an order?” Keith asked mulishly.

  “No. It’s a suggestion.”

  Keith grumbled bitterly under his breath, but followed through the door. Immediately, the iron door swung shut, clanging as it closed behind them. Keith stared at the door and then at Maddox. The pilot straightened, and he let his right hand drop onto the holstered gun at his side. He stood straighter and squared his shoulders.

  “That’s the spirit,” Maddox said. “Let’s see who we’re dealing with, eh?” He started down the lit corridor, with Riker stumbling beside him and Keith bringing up the rear.

  They traveled downward, the ceiling lights providing continued illumination and in time, cool air blew over them. They revived as the temperature dropped to the mid-seventies and as the air became pure and invigorating.

  “Where are we?” Riker asked later, as he shoved off the captain and stood on his own, peering around.

  “We found this place,” Maddox told the sergeant.

  “What do you mean found?”

  “We’re on Remus.”

  “The hell you say,” Riker said. “This is Balder III.”

  “No. We left the Balder System quite some time ago. You, Keith and I came to Remus in a fold-fighter. We crashed, though, remember?”

  Riker scowled, and he massaged his forehead. “Oh,” he said shortly. “Why…why am I disoriented?”

  “Figure it out,” Maddox said, not unkindly.

  Riker stared at him before nodding. “The heat and lousy air wiped me out. I’m feeling better now.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Maddox had seen Riker slip himself a pill a few minutes ago. That had no doubt also helped revive him.

  They continued down the corridor.

  “Hold it,” Keith said later. “I’m feeling sick.”

  Maddox looked back. The pilot was white-faced and sweaty, with red rings around his eyes. He breathed harder than before. The exertion, tension and concussion were having their toll.

  Stopping, Maddox said, “We’ll rest here a bit and catch our bearings.”

  They all sat down in a line against a corridor wall. Keith closed his eyes.

  “Better keep them open,” Maddox said. When Keith didn’t respond, Maddox reached over with a foot and kicked one of Keith’s.

  The ace opened bleary eyes.

  “Keep your eyes open. You have a concussion. Sleeping isn’t an option for you right now.”

  “I’m going to throw up.”

  “Try to hold it in,” Maddox said.

  Keith seemed as if he would nod. “I’ll try.”

  “We’ll be okay,” Maddox said. “We had a rough spot. Now, we’re going to survive it.”

  “How do you figure that?” Riker asked. “We’re in a tunnel.”

  “A corridor.”

  “What’s the difference?” Riker asked.

  “This corridor was made recently.”

  From where he sat, Riker studied the floor, wall and ceiling. “You’re right. This is new. Did they make it for us?”

  “Who are ‘they’?” Keith asked. “That’s what I want to know.”

  Riker shrugged, glancing at the captain.

  “If I were to guess,” Maddox said. “I’d say they’re the makers of the memory-stick satellites.”

  A voice spoke. “That’s an excellent guess, Captain. How did you arrive at it?”

  Maddox and the others swiveled around. A lean man in a blue uniform regarded them from an open area in the corridor, one that must have soundlessly appeared as they spoke. The man had dark hair and intelligent eyes, and he had a half-sunken cerebrater merged into his forehead.

  “Garth?” asked Maddox, who recognized the man. “Are you Garth the Monk?”

  The lean individual raised his eyebrows. “How do you know me?”

  Maddox opened his mouth, but didn’t say, perhaps deciding it wouldn’t be a good idea.

  Garth cocked his head, and he appeared to be listening to someone. “Ah,” he said, eyeing Maddox. “You’ve lived my memories, haven’t you?”

  “Yes,” Maddox said, wondering how Garth could possibly know that. Clearly, someone or something read his thoughts, or saw in some alien way that he had Garth’s memories. He climbed to his feet, facing the man.

  Keith and Riker did likewise.

  Garth produced a black metal stick that he pointed at Maddox. “Please refrain from any heroics, such as attempting to overpower me. It will only result in your quick annihilation.”

  “No worries there,” Maddox said. “You have my free cooperation.” He wanted to learn more before he made any moves.

  Once more, Garth cocked his head and appeared to be listening. “I see,” he said, focusing on them again. “You arrived via a spacecraft, crashing onto Remus. Leaving your craft, you came here and found the entrance. I’m sure you wish to meet the new owners of Remus.”

  “I do indeed,” Maddox said.

  “One thing, though,” Garth said. “You once wore…you call it a cerebrater. That’s not bad as far as names go. I will use that, if you don’t mind.”

  “Did you just read my thoughts?”

  “Not as you perceive it,” Garth said. “I’m quite surprised you’re functional without your cerebrater. There doesn’t seem to be any scar either where you removed it. That’s…an impressive accomplishment.”

  “In what way?” asked Maddox.

  Garth blinked slowly several times, smiling afterward. “I’m afraid this isn’t the best place for a discussion. You wish to learn more about all this, yes?”

  “I do,” Maddox said.

  “Then we should continue to headquarters. You will proceed so I can keep watch. Any wrong moves will result in pain and possible death on your parts.”

  “I understand” Maddox turned, grabbing one of Keith’s arms, as he’d just seen the pilot sway.

  “Is he too injured to proceed?” Garth asked.

  “He’ll be fine.”

  “I can put him out of his misery, if you like,” Garth said.

  “What?” Keith said, his right arm—the one Maddox held—straining to reach his holstered weapon. The captain tightened his grip so he couldn’t do that. Keith turned to Maddox.