Shadows of Golstar (37 page)

The Leader bent down near the General and held a sheet
of paper before the dying man's eyes. The General could barely focus but did
just make out his own signature. The Leader saw a faint glint of recognition in
the dying man’s eyes. “Yes, Colonel, it is your signature. It is part of the
requisition you just signed. I knew that you would not bother to look at the
last page. Oh, I
am
sorry; you do appear to be having some trouble
seeing it. I will tell you of it instead. It is a simple statement really. It
describes your dissatisfaction with the military and your social status; how
you lost your zeal and intend to end your miserable life.”

Fighting for the last of his breath, the General
reached forward as if in supplication. The Leader quickly placed the suicide
note in the General’s hand. The General’s vision lost the last of its clarity.
Images faded to indistinct gray shadows. At the same time, his fear and pain
mercifully receded. Then a bright, blinding light appeared and enveloped him in
its warm peaceful embrace, blotting out his last thought.

The Leader watched dispassionately as the General
convulsed, dark blood now flowed freely from his nostrils and mouth. His hand
closed involuntarily on the note as his muscles began to spasm, crumpling it.
The General’s arm dropped, still clutching the note; his face, no longer
reflecting agony, relaxed and was now almost peaceful. With the tension of pain
released from his expression, he appeared younger. After another moment, his
head fell forward as the final thread in the tapestry of his life was severed.

The Leader lifted the General’s head and for a long
moment looked into the lifeless eyes. Satisfied the poison had completed its
work, the Leader allowed the head to drop back onto the dead man’s chest.

The Leader picked up the untainted drink, drained it
in a single swallow and then placed the empty tumbler in an inner pocket of the
hooded robe. With gloved hands, the Leader removed the vial of poison from
another pocket and rolled it in the General’s open hand and placed it on the
table next to the poisoned drink. The leader looked down at the lifeless figure
one last time and said, “ Truly. I should have removed you earlier, but you did
have your uses.” The Leader replaced the mask and hood, turned and left the
room.

“Boss?  Boss, it’s time,” Hec quietly announced,
“wake up.”

Owens slowly opened his eyes and yawned. He hadn’t
expected to sleep so soundly. He sat up slowly and carefully stretched his
arms, paying special attention to his injured shoulder. There was a slight
pulling sensation with only a hint of the sore stiffness he had experienced earlier.
He rotated his shoulder without too much pain. He was satisfied with his
progress.

“How do you feel?” Hec asked. “The medical recovery
capsule left a message you’re due for a second dose of speed-heal.”

“Actually, surprisingly good,” Owens yawned again. 
“I’ll go ahead and take it now.”

He stood up and went over to the med cabinet, fumbling
with the door catch. He removed a small clear plastic vial with a shiny,
self-injector head attached at one end. He gently shook it and the blue liquid
medication swirled. Satisfied, he thumbed off the end-seal from the injector
head and placed the injector just above his navel. He firmly pushed it into his
flesh. There was a barely discernible buzz as the injector delivered the
speed-heal subcutaneously.  

He said, “Damn, that’s cold.” He tossed the spent
injector on the bed and felt a momentary wave of nausea, a normal side-effect
of the injection. He paused and grimaced, caught between a gag and another
yawn. Lucky for him the yawn finally won out. As his reaction to the medicine
began to fade, Owens asked, “Six hours already?”  

“Just about, I woke you a little early,” Hec answered.
“We still have about ten more hours flight time remaining until we make
Selane’s orbit, but I thought you would want to know we’re finally approaching
the Golstar satellite defense grid. I’ve already awakened Sharné. She’s
freshening up and will meet you in the bridge.”

“I could use a shower myself. I have time?

“Plenty of time,” Hec answered.

As Owens shed his underclothing, he asked, “Any change
relating to our friends following us?”

“I swear, one of these days you’re going to hurt my
feelings, Boss. You should know by now that I would have told you immediately
had there been anything for you to be concerned about.”

“Does that mean no?” Owens pressed. He was beginning
to understand ‘Hec-speak.’

“Well, kind of,” Hec managed to sound sheepish. “There
have been some minor fluctuations in our relative positions, but we continue to
maintain a more than comfortable lead. I’ll explain everything in more detail
once you’re in the bridge. Trust me, everything is well under control. Now go
ahead and take your shower. You don’t want to offend Sharné.”

Owens muttered, “Everything I think about lately has
to do with trying not to offend Sharné.”

“Well, she is a woman,” Hec said, as if that explained
everything.

“That she is,” Owens shook his head and entered the
small shower stall. He sighed as the warm water needled his skin. The water’s
heat infused his muscles, relaxing them. An old-fashioned water-shower always
refreshed him and left him feeling cleaner than had he used the ultrasonic
cleaner cabinet that was sitting next to the stall. He reserved the cleaner
cabinet only for emergencies, in the event the water recycler broke down, which
fortunately hadn’t happened since he refitted the ship.  

As he lathered up, he called out over the sound of the
water spray, “Hey, I do trust you Hec, but with our lives hanging in the
balance, I need constant reassurance. Call me insecure if you want, but that won’t
keep me from asking again.”

Hec didn’t respond. Owens didn’t bother to pursue it
any further right then, and began to wash his hair. He didn’t linger as he
normally did and instead quickly finished his shower, depilated, put on
underwear, donned his spare gravity harness and pulled on a clean jumpsuit.

Arriving in the bridge, he found Sharné already there
standing, dressed in one of the spare jumpsuits he had stored in the wardrobe in
the guest quarters. Her hair was still damp from her own shower and pulled back
into a thick ponytail. He noted with interest that the baggy jumpsuit could not
disguise her femininity. However, as he continued to gaze at her, with the
oversized jumpsuit’s sleeves rolled up to her elbows and pants legs rolled up
just covering her ankles, she looked very young and vulnerable. 
  

So many contrasts, he thought. She was beautiful,
commanding, intelligent, and a government official, not to mention that she could
be highly irritating at times. He knew nothing of her background, culture or
her marital status or even if her people even practiced the ancient ritual of
marriage. 

Not aware of his appraisal, Sharné looked intently at
the holo-screen, absently brushing back loose strands of hair that had fallen
over her ears. He pulled his attention away from Sharné and looked at the
floating display. He was mildly surprised that instead of showing the position
of the pursuing ship as he had expected, the tactical grid cube on the
holo-screen had been replaced with the navigation plotting screen, which now
displayed a three-dimensional representation of the Golstar system.  

The progressive, spherical grids that overlaid the
display with coordinate registrations lacked their usual sharpness, and a
number of areas appeared indistinct, almost blurred. He looked closer and saw
there was a mass of pinpoint blips blanketing the image nearly to the point of
masking the network of grid lines. To Owens, it looked to be a shiny network of
tiny stars that permeated the entire system.

He asked Hec, “That’s the defense grid?”

“That’s it, Boss. It’s why I woke the both of you a
little early. We’re nearing the outer perimeter of the satellite grid or net as
Sharné refers to it. As close as I can tell, it’s not as large as the
historical records indicate, but it’s still huge. Other than the size, it
appears pretty much as they described it in your briefings and backed up in the
ship’s library files. There are thousands of them in our immediate sensor
range. The net must comprise millions of the nasty little buggers. Sharné
thinks that we’ll be within the net’s detection field within an hour or so at
our present velocity.”

Owens turned from the holo-display back to Sharné and
said carefully, “This question may be a bit belated, but exactly how
do
we approach the net? You said earlier you have a way around it, and at the time
I accepted that without question. Now with a little rest behind me, it’s clear
I wasn’t exactly at my best. Had I been thinking a little clearer, I think I
might have pressed you for a little more detail when you first mentioned it.”

He sighed; clear thinking hadn’t exactly been his
hallmark lately. “I wish I had thought to bring this up earlier.” He paused for
a beat. “I’m hoping your safe passage doesn’t rely on significant course
changes. With the Golstar ship hot on our tail, I don’t want to reduce our
speed any more than we already have to.” He added, “Without that safe passage,
if what I’ve been told by my government is true, we wouldn’t stand a chance in
hell of surviving the orbiting fortresses’ reaction to an unannounced entry
into Golstar territory.”

Sharné looked at him with some assurance, “Normally
that would certainly be the case. The defense net does provide a very effective
barrier against intrusion into our territory, but as I intimated earlier, I am
quite prepared for it. I will admit that at the time, I too was not thinking as
coherently as
I
might. I should have
explained further. No drastic course changes should be necessary. What I
propose, is to disable the net temporarily.” When Sharné had first realized
their entry into the Golstar system would be via Owens’ ship rather than the
Light
Saber
, she had readied an answer for this moment.  

The solution involved yet another lie, and she
regretted having to employ it, but could see no other choice. She knew the lies
were necessary, but she was unsure as to how long she could maintain the
charade. She wasn’t an experienced liar and wondered if Owens, with his
background, would eventually penetrate her deceit.

She turned her head away from the display and looked
at Owens directly, “As a result of the defense net’s current state of upgrade,
Hec should be able find relative clear pathways and course changes should be
minimal. As to safe passage, amazingly enough I was given some instruction on
how to deal with the defense net. I confess  I’m no expert on the net, but
I did receive a thorough briefing and some key information in the case of
certain… ah, contingencies.”

Outwardly, she conveyed calm assurance; inside, her
stomach was fluttering. She asked Owens with what she hoped was in a confident
tone of voice, “With your permission, I now need to ask Hec some questions.”

“Go ahead, we’re in your hands now,” he said to
Sharné. To Hec, “Please, answer all of her questions.”

“Thank you. Hec, can you use the ship’s laser weapons
as a signaling device? I mean to say, do your lasers have a focusing
capability; can you defocus the emitter so that it can become a signaling
device rather than a destructive beam?” Sharné asked.

Hec immediately responded, “Yes, that can be done
easily. By their design, the burst lasers use a variable focus technology to
adjust for changing target distances. For your purpose, all I have to do is set
them into the maintenance mode for aperture calibration.”  

She said, “Then please set the weapons into the
maintenance mode.”

“Do it,” Owens said.

“Done,” Hec immediately responded.

Sharné asked, “Can you set the apertures in the
emitters so that they’ll transmit a flash with about a ten degree spread when
we are at around fifty kilometers from the net?”

“Best I can do is a little more than eight degrees.”

She nodded, “That should be sufficient, Hec.”

"The apertures are set. One minute, thirty
seconds to the fifty kilometer mark.” Hec announced. Green digits appeared to
float in the center of the bridge and began to countdown.

 “Aim the emitters at the approximate center of
the net from our present approach angle,” Sharné directed.

“Okay, I’m using all the data our long-range scanners
can give me. One moment, I’m targeting burst lasers to the center of the sensor
net.” Hec continued after a moment, “Okay, the lasers are now pointing at my
best estimate of the center of the satellite mass.”

“Very good, now I am going to ask you to use your
normal data transfer rate to flash-transmit some numbers in emergency code. You
do still use the old Earth standard in Confederated Planets?”

“Yes, it is still used today,” he responded. “I’m
ready to begin transmitting.”

“Very well, you will transmit ten sets of numbers on
my mark,” she held a small, thin plastic rectangle with some writing etched on
its surface and watched the numerical display continue to countdown. When
twenty seconds were left, she said, “Please allow one second between each set,
Hec.” Looking at the rectangle, she recited a sequence of ten, three-digit
 
numbers. The numbers had no real significance
other than they included her birth date and identification number. She added
some meaningless, random numbers. “I will want you to repeat the numbers ten
times when you transmit. Commence the transmission at one hundred kilometers.”

Hec responded, “Transmitting now.” After a moment, the
AI announced, “The transmission is complete. What can we expect in response?
Will we receive a confirmation signal?”

“No,” Sharné sharply answered, and then paused. Don’t
lose control now, she told herself. Then in a more relaxed tone she said, “Our only
confirmation will be that the weapons do not activate in the defense globes.
The globes should stand down for one solar day. Should the code fail, at least
our departure into the Light will be instantaneous and painless.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Well,” quipped Hec,
“knowing that, I feel much better.”

Used to such comments by Hec, Owens remained silent.

Sharné looked at Owens, a small frown beginning to
crease her brow. “Well Hec, I suppose if one has to die, this is as good a
method as any. However, I for one do not share your enthusiasm.”

Owens was a little surprised by her solemn reply. He
had forgotten that she came from a completely different, unfamiliar background.
“Sharné, Hec wasn’t actually serious,” He shook his head ruefully. “It was just
his small attempt to lighten the mood, a very small attempt I might add.” Owens
added meaningfully, “But at least I know when it’s appropriate. Isn’t that
right Hec?”

Hec responded immediately. “I’m sorry Sharne; I didn’t
mean to be rude,” the AI’s tone was sheepish.

“It is alright Hec,” she said, but a puzzled
expression had settled on her face.

This small incident served as a reminder to Owens of
the gulf between their two cultures. He thought it might be a good time to
change the subject. He leaned against the pilot’s chair, looking at the
holo-screen and searched for something to say, “What’s happening in the defense
net?”

Hec answered, “We have reached what I estimate to be
the outer perimeter of the net’s sensor range. I used Confederated Planets equivalent
technology as my working yardstick. I can’t accurately estimate what the actual
sensor net’s range may be. My scans confirm that the net appears inert. But
that doesn’t mean very much, does it? The ship’s library archives indicate that
the Confederated Planets expeditions were unable to detect any energy readings
either. One second they were there and the next second, poof, nothing left but
some scattered molecules and atoms.”