Shadows of Golstar (15 page)

There
was no sound, but Owens could imagine the noise momentarily generated within
the ships as they endured the incredible, violent weapon fire. The drone’s
visual acuity allowed him to see the carriers’ external weaponry was obviously
disabled and the apertures of launch tubes leading to internal racks of
missiles were melted and twisted unusable. The fourth carrier had exploded when
the sphere’s weapon breached the inner hulls.

Owens
watched in horrid fascination as the holograph shifted from image to image. Of
the destroyers, three could now no longer be seen. The remaining three had been
reduced to slowly expanding clusters of metal debris. The two battleships fared
a little better than the carriers. Though they too had lost their primary
energy shielding, much of their armor remained intact. They looked to be still
capable of firing their weapons. Unfortunately, the enemy fortresses were out
of the ships’ weapon range.

“Norris
and his crews knew that they were finished; the next enemy attack would be
their end,” Benson’s voice startled Owens.  “From the data, we know that
the surviving ships’ sensors were still focused on the spheres and reported the
spheres’ energy weapons were recharging.  It was estimated they had about
forty-five seconds left. All remaining message drones were immediately
launched. The observer drones transmitted their data to them. You can see as
the last drone left its launch tube, the two battleships and the crippled
carriers again encountered the superior technology of the system’s inhabitants.
Although equipped with the best Confederated Planets’ armories had to offer,
they suffered the same fate as the first expedition.”

Owens
watched as the final scene played out, then the holo-projection winked out and
the lighting returned to normal. A heavy silence followed. Benson cleared his
throat. “Mr. Owens, you have just joined a very small, select number of people who
have viewed this historical recording. Do you have any questions about what
you’ve seen?”  

The questions would come later, but at this point,
Owens could think of nothing to ask. He shook his head.

After taking a short break, Benson continued his presentation.
“We will now go back to the beginning, when the Farway Spiral was initially
detected.” He took the remainder of the day flashing data and images while
describing in great detail, many of the findings of the first unmanned probes
sent to Golstar. As he warmed to the subject, he became more animated.
Unfortunately, from Owens’ perspective, he was reminded of a teacher he once
had. The man had the same scratchy voice and poor presentation skills.

 “You can... um, see,” Benson concluded, “the
government was presented with a unique opportunity heretofore unimaginable;
three E-type planets with incalculable mineral wealth and ideally suited for
colonization. Based on all the data, we can little blame the government for
mounting an expedition.”

Owens had had enough, “This is all very interesting,
and I mean no disrespect, but what’s the purpose of going into all of this
historical detail? I’m a private investigator and from my narrow perspective, I
really can’t see the value of this information. It seems to me Golstar’s
message, the one that asked for me, was simply worded and fairly
straightforward. They want to hire a PI. As to why they named me, specifically,
I don’t know, but I would think the background I was provided by Neven and Ms.
Frizzen earlier would be sufficient for this assignment.”

Benson ran a nervous hand through his hair and seemed
to be searching for a response.

Before Benson could frame an answer, a new thought
entered Owens’ mind. Damn it, he should have realized it earlier. With this dawning
knowledge, he tried to keep a tight rein on his temper. “But it isn’t that
straightforward, is it?” He looked around the table, pausing at each face,
“Yeah; you all see this as an opportunity, don’t you? What you really want is
for me to play spy. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?” Benson sat back
down, and the projection winked out.

Owens waited. Nobody spoke. He again looked from face
to face, as the uncomfortable silence grew. He finally shook his head in
disgust, “Alright, if that’s what all this is all about, I’ll do the
cloak-and-dagger bit. We all know that it’s not as if I have any real choice in
the matter. Even so, I don’t see the reason behind giving me this slanted
version of history.” He looked directly at Benson, “It appears that you’re
attempting to justify our government’s questionable decisions. Just how is this
supposed to help me gather the information you think you need?”  

Benson’s face flushed bright red.

Paula Frizzen stared at Owens with the look of
discovering half of a rather large caterpillar in her partially-eaten salad.
“If you think…” She began heatedly. She abruptly stopped and turned to look at
the other man sitting at the table. She took a deep breath, her blouse
stretching to emphasize her obvious charms. “Perhaps the Vice Consul can
clarify,” she said stiffly.

It looked to Owens like he had thoroughly pissed off
the lovely Ms. Frizzen. Any hope he had harbored for engaging in
extracurricular activities with the beautiful director dimmed.

The man had been silent throughout the presentations.
He now nodded and gave Frizzen a small self-deprecating smile, then stood. “I’d
be happy to, Director Frizzen.” He walked over to a side table and retrieved a
glass of water. Stewart Reynaud was of medium height and had wavy brown hair.
His features were all angles and planes and he moved in a smooth, controlled
manner, as if every movement was preplanned.  

Sitting back down, he directed his gaze to Owens. His
look was one of frank appraisal, a small smile half-formed on his lips. Then,
in a deceptively mild voice, he began, “I suppose we should have prefaced these
sessions with a little more explanation, but time is been somewhat limited. In
any event, I shall attempt to address your concerns Mr. Owens.”

His voice remained conversational, “To begin with...
we have not had a communication since that single terse message of three
centuries ago, so we really have no basis on which to determine the true intent
behind this most-recent message. Although totally unexpected, this request does
appear rather, as you say, straight-forward. However, as simple as it may
appear on the surface, there are very likely other underlying motives, other
purposes in play. What they may be, we can’t begin to guess.” He paused, then
smiled openly, “Well, actually we can.”  

He resumed in a more serious tone, “Second, as to you
being our spy; I will readily admit we do want you to gather as much
information as you can while you’re within the Golstar system. However, please
take note the information gathering will come from both directions… ours
and
theirs
.
Now, let me make myself perfectly clear on this point.
You
are to represent Confederated Planets;
you
will act as a witness for the
defense if it eventually comes to that.”

Owens said, “I see.”

“Do you, Mr. Owens?” Reynaud paused, and took a sip of
his water. “If that is true, then you can now see these briefings are extremely
important and absolutely necessary. If I were you, I would not be so quick to
discount any of the information we provide you in the future.”

Owens frowned.

“Perhaps you’re still having trouble seeing it, but I
believe you will eventually come to understand the underlying point of all
this. Not counting the recording of our fleet’s demise, these briefings have
been set up to chronologically step you through the events, and more
importantly, the government’s decisions that led up to the quarantine.”

Owens raised his hands in mock surrender, “Okay. I’m
beginning to see where you’re going with this.”  

Reynaud nodded, “And so along with a historical review
of that time period, you’ll be provided with the political and military context
for the decisions that were made by Confederated Planets’ then ruling
government. When the briefings are completed, you’ll be one of a select few to
have a comprehensive picture of what went on and why, at least from our
perspective, during that unfortunate period in history.” He stopped, as if
waiting for Owens to comment.

“Okay,” Owens said. “So in essence you’re saying is I’m
supposed to act as some sort of advocate to defend the actions the government
took over three hundred years ago. Well, if that’s what you’re expecting, then
that’s what I’ll do. At the risk of repeating myself, it’s not as if I have any
real choice in the matter.”

Reynaud ignored Owens’ last comment. “Then I urge you
to pay attention to the briefings most carefully. Afterwards, if called upon,
you should be able to provide our side of the story. Mr. Owens, I can’t stress enough,
these briefings could make a very real difference in the outcome of your
journey.”

Owens remained quiet with a growing knot in his
stomach, deciding it better to not comment on the Vice Consul’s expectation
that Owens would represent, and somehow defend Confederated Planets to the
inhabitants of Golstar.  

Reynaud looked at Owens expectantly, gauging his
demeanor. Then seeing no outward reaction, continued on in a more conciliatory
tone, “As isolated as Golstar has been, their rulers may very well be seeking
information about Confederated Planets and are simply using this request as a
stalking horse. As to the purpose for seeking such information, we haven’t a
clue.”

“But to the extent we can, within this short time
interval, we will prepare you for as many possible eventualities as we are
able. You will, after all, be the first and sole representative of Confederated
Planets to set foot on a Golstar planet. And as such, you may have the
opportunity to play a key role in opening a genuine dialog between our two
peoples.” He became little more earnest in his manner, “This could very well be
the first step toward the establishment of formal relations. It is therefore,
in our best interests to provide you with every scrap of information that we
can, so I ask for your understanding and patience.”

Owens frowned. “All right, I understand and can accept
the need for the details. Even so, if they’re so damned advanced, surely
Golstar can gather data on Confederated Planets without us ever knowing?”

“Ah,” Reynaud smiled. “It could very well be they
actually want us to know. Perhaps it is an overture of sorts. Such an overt
gambit is not unknown in the art of diplomacy. Three hundred years is a very
long time, reckoned by anyone’s standards. Politically, Golstar may have
undergone some change that could mean a departure from their isolationist
stance. Such a change could mean this is a pretext to begin the complex
diplomatic interactions necessary for an opening dialog, such that could
eventually lead to normalized relations.”

 Reynaud’s smile faded, “Or it could be a portent
of something less altruistic… perhaps they require a confirmation of what they
already believe or have come to know. As a citizen of Confederated Planets,
your general first-hand knowledge of the government and its policies could be
invaluable as part of a comprehensive intelligence-gathering effort. It is
quite possible this is part of an effort to discover our weaknesses, as a
prelude to some subversive action… or overt war.”  

This last was said in a low monotone. It seemed to
Owens that the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees. His
anticipation, already dulled, was now beginning to turn toward dread.

 “But...” Reynaud continued a bit more brightly.
“It is highly doubtful they would use such a pretext if they were gathering
intelligence in preparation for a war.
 
We believe a clandestine approach would be more logical. Why alert us
unnecessarily when surprise would provide an additional advantage?
 
No, it is unlikely this is a prelude to an
attack, but I did need to mention it as a possibility. However, improbable that
it might be.”

Reynaud’s calm reassurance eased some of the tension
that had been building in the room. However, now with the realization his
assignment would be much more than he had first anticipated, Owens’ slight
relief gradually turned to dismay. He couldn’t picture himself as a spy or
diplomat for that matter, but it was obvious they expected him to play
both roles. He thought sourly; this was just getting better and better.

The silence was becoming uncomfortable and rather than
continuing this line of discussion he decided to ask another question that had
plagued him, “Do you have any idea why they chose me?”

Reynaud chuckled with genuine amusement, “Absolutely
none whatsoever. Perhaps you were picked out of a public directory. They may
believe they can get a more accurate picture of Confederated Planets by
choosing an average citizen at random, though after reviewing your file, I’d
hardly call you average. Maybe it’s something in your background. If it is, we
haven’t been able to find it. Frankly, we haven’t enough information to
speculate. We were running blind three hundred years ago; we are still running
blind today. Not a comforting thought I know, but it’s the simple truth.”

Owens was at a loss. He had concluded soon after
leaving Neven’s office that he would be expected to play dual roles; that of an
investigator (if the request was legitimate) and spy. With some chagrin, he
realized he had not really given careful thought about the ramifications of
being the first to penetrate the curtain of isolation surrounding what he had
believed only a short time ago, as pure myth.