Shadows of Golstar (55 page)

He shook his head in mild wonder. A few embraces, a
few kisses and he was already lost. That hadn’t happened to him before. He was
definitely in unknown territory, he suddenly realized, and in more ways than
one. He was on a strange planet and falling for a beautiful official of a
foreign government, someone who would be considered an enemy by his own
government. He found himself grinning. He always enjoyed a challenge, and this
one could be the biggest one yet.

The brief moment of happiness faded as another thought
surfaced. As he watched her stride in front of him, he wondered what chance
they had for any kind of a meaningful relationship. If he was honest with
himself, the answer was self-evident, none. He was here on a temporary
assignment. Once the task was complete, whatever it truly was, he would go back
to Confederated Planets.

He gazed over Sharné’s shoulder and saw the Admiral
and the honor guard waiting where they had left them. The circumstances that
surrounded him immediately came back as did his curiosity. He put aside his
emotions and began to ask himself again why he was here. The same nagging
question resurfaced. What was it that was so important to break centuries of
isolation and bring him, Janus Owens, a moderately successful private
investigator to Golstar? It couldn’t be just to recover a crystal bird.

His thoughts drew back to Sharné. What did she want to
tell him? Was it truly about her or was it related to the stolen artifact? She
obviously had held back key information, but her unexpected reaction to being
confronted with his observations back on the ship had already told him a lot.
Her subsequent explanation and the story about his so-called assignment were
rife with inconsistencies. He knew she had lied to him a number of times. To
what degree he didn’t know, but he wasn’t surprised by it nor was he
particularly disappointed. He almost expected it. It was all part of a most
intriguing puzzle, and one he was committed to solve.

Over the centuries, their respective governments had
maintained their distance. They remained remote enemies, at least in Golstar’s
eyes. There were no embassies, no trade agreements, and no interactions
whatsoever. The buffer of interstellar space between the two civilizations had
remained intact, at least until recently. And Sharné was, after all, a
high-placed government official from a hostile system. Obviously, her first
responsibility was to her own government, her people. He was a member of
Confederated Planets, a historic enemy in Golstar’s view.

Before being summoned, he imagined he would have been
considered equal only to the dirt beneath Sharné’s feet. He was the enemy and
after all, what was a lie to an enemy? However, that was before they were
thrown together. The traumatic experiences they had shared had broken down many
of the barriers between them. Life-and-death situations often did that to
people, he mused. Nothing like a struggle for survival to strip away walls
carefully built over a lifetime.

He supposed he should feel some anger, but anger was
the least of his feelings. His feelings for Sharné notwithstanding, the
situation in which he found himself only whetted his natural curiosity. Instead
of feeling betrayed, he was intrigued. Discounting Sharné’s earlier
explanations, he knew there was a hell of a lot more behind Golstar’s request
than he had been told.

He thought again of how Sharné
’s attitude had gradually altered, softened.
Apparently, along with her new-found expressions of affection, her political
mind-set was also undergoing some degree of change. Maybe the reason she wanted
to talk was to clear the air between them. Maybe with her changing attitude
towards him, she simply wanted to tell the truth,

She might be fearful of his reaction on hearing new
information that conflicted with what she had told him earlier. Well, he
thought, she had nothing to worry about on that score. Given his own
government’s coercive tactics, he could easily understand the pressures that
might be used to ensure cooperation, especially on someone of high standing.

Unfortunately, she had sounded as if it would be some
time before they could talk again. In the meantime, he would just continue his
own investigation and the powers-that-be, be damned.

They finally stopped and were standing once more
before the admiral. Sharné’s eyes locked on the admiral’s. She said, “I am now
ready to depart. Please see that Janus Owens is afforded all courtesies. He is,
after all a guest, only here because of our request.”

The Admiral bowed, saying nothing.

Sharné nodded to Owens then walked toward the waiting
shuttle. Owens saw a tall figure waiting at the end of the ramp. The figure
bowed as she approached then led her into the shuttle. The shuttle’s engines
began to rumble. He turned and saw the admiral staring at him intently. The
admiral’s lips were slightly upturned, hinting at a sneer and Owens could feel
the man’s open hostility.

The admiral spoke without preamble. “You will now come
with us.” He brought his hand up sharply and two of the uniformed men stepped
forward and positioned themselves on either side of Owens. “Know this, I answer
only to the Grand Patriarch and the Guardian of the Way,” the Admiral stated
pointedly. “You are now under my protection,” his lips pursed, as finding
something distasteful in his mouth. “You will obey my instructions and those of
my command without question. Is this understood?”

“Perfectly,” Owens’ voice hardened. “But as your
Keeper of the Way just pointed out, I am here only because your government sent
for me. Since then I have been repeatedly attacked, the latest by two of your
own battleships. I am only too happy to let Golstar take charge of security. I
sincerely hope you’re up to the task… this time.” Goading an admiral of an
enemy nation was probably not the best thing to do under the current
circumstances, Owens thought, but he was ‘up-to-here’ with Golstar’s haughty
attitudes. Reynaud would have had a heart attack if he had witnessed Owens’
little outburst.

The admiral smiled grimly, and refused to be baited by
Owens’ jibe.
Without answering, he turned on his heel and began heading
back toward the shuttle at a brisk pace. The escort on Owens’ right motioned
with a hand that they were to follow the admiral. Owens started after the
admiral and suppressed a chuckle as his escorts struggled to match his initial
long strides. He quickly slowed his pace so as to not overtake the admiral. His
escorts caught up with him and the remainder of the squad fell in behind them.

Hec was becoming impatient. It had been over ten
hours, ship’s time, since the second shuttle had risen from the planet’s
surface. The second shuttle had taken off minutes earlier than the first and
docked with one of the Golstar battleships, which then immediately broke orbit
and headed towards the inner planets. The first shuttle docked with a different
ship which had since remained in orbit.

Hec had received no transmissions in the meantime and
was becoming anxious about Owens’ fate. As much as he would have liked, Hec refrained
from attempting contact with the battle group. He was given stern instruction
to await a message from the Golstar authorities. He had no doubt any failure to
follow their directive would result in some very unpleasant consequences.

In the meantime, he could only wait and fret. Earlier,
he had taken advantage of his stationary orbit, and using the ship’s internal
manipulators, repaired the damage the ship had taken during their escape from
the
Light Saber
. The ship was again capable of reaching subspace. Status
routines and diagnostics had been run and rerun. As a result, the ship exceeded
its initial calibrations and in essence, Hec now had nothing to do but to
twiddle his imaginary thumbs.

Hec was mildly amused that his impatience as a human
had carried over in his incarnation as an AI. But as a consequence, for the
first time, Hec was seriously considering putting himself into a maintenance
standby mode, the closest equivalent of sleep to an AI. Since Hec was connected
to the ship, he wouldn’t have to worry about his battery reserve. In standby,
he would not awaken until a message was received or some onboard emergency
presented itself.

At this point, anything was better than this waiting,
not knowing if Owens was okay or being tortured by his Golstar hosts. Hec’s
best assumption was that Owens was alive but as to his circumstances, the AI
couldn’t begin to guess.

Hec made the decision. The AI accessed the standby
mode program and reviewed the checklist and procedures. It was a simple
process. As Hec began to initiate the procedure, a signal came through on
Owens’ voice communications channel. Hec immediately canceled his entry into
standby and made to answer the signal.

Having no idea of who might be listening, Hec opened
the channel with, “Transmission is acknowledged Owner Owens. Please provide
your access code.”

The code was immediately sent.
“Sherlock Holmes
provide
your current status, starting with propulsion,” the voice on the originating
end stated.

Hec’s voice recognition routine verified that the
voice appeared to belong to Owens. The prearranged code word
propulsion
was included in the transmission and indicated that Hec was to provide a
truthful response. Had Owens asked for the navigational system status first,
then Hec’s orders were to concoct some problem and make an attempt to escape as
soon as an opportunity presented itself. Of course, this was a gamble assuming
the Golstar ships were in the same general condition as the others that they
had encountered.

Hec maintained his AI-machine persona, “All propulsion
systems have been fully restored, Owner Owens. All other systems have been
calibrated and are nominal.
Sherlock Holmes
is fully space-worthy.
Orders?”

Owens’ voice immediately responded, “New coordinates
are being transmitted. You are to now to break orbit and make for the
coordinates provided. The
Sherlock Holmes
will dock with the ship
designated as the “
Lightning Strike.”
The docking procedures are the
same as those that were used for the
Light Saber
. I shall rejoin the
Sherlock
Holmes
on the completion of your successful docking. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged,” Hec responded.

“Owens, out,” the transmission ended.

Hec was already bringing the reaction drives on-line
as Owens closed the transmission link.

● ● ●

Owens deactivated the communicator. He sat in a
stiff-backed chair and looked about the admiral’s compartment. He was alone,
but he had no doubt he was under close surveillance. He made a show of
stretching in what he hoped was in a manner of bored indifference. He slowly
slouched in the uncomfortable seat. He had been surprised when he had been
given the instructions for docking the
Holmes
and then to board her for
the duration of the trip back to Berralton.

On disembarking from the shuttle, the admiral had left
him with the squad. Without a word, the admiral made for what Owens assumed was
the bridge of the
Lightning Strike
.
The squad then disbursed, leaving him alone with a single uniformed crewman.

The crewman told him to follow and led him down a maze
of corridors to a sparsely furnished compartment later identified as the
admiral’s. He was provided terse instructions by the crewman and then left
alone to complete his orders to contact the
Sherlock
Holmes
. It seemed to Owens the admiral had little desire for Owens to be in
close proximity to him or his crew. That was okay with Owens. He was looking
forward to getting back aboard his own ship. It would be good to talk to Hec
again.

As he sat there, his body slowly began to relax and
the next thing that he knew, he was being prodded and none too gently at that.
His eyes popped open, his body tensing, preparing to spring. Fortunately, he
remembered where he was and forced himself to relax. He looked up at a
stern-faced crewmember and deliberately stretched. This one was female.

“Sorry,” he yawned, “I must have fallen asleep.”

The crew member looked at him with open disgust. “Get
up,” she said brusquely. “Your ship has docked. The admiral wants you on it.
Now.”

Owens grinned at her. “And I was just getting used to
your gracious hospitality.” He rose from the chair and stretched. She was a
head shorter and he looked down at her for a moment. He gave her a sloppy
salute and said, “Lead on. I’m more than ready to leave these gracious
accommodations.”

Stone-faced and without another word, the crewmember
turned on her heel and exited the compartment. Owens got up and followed her
out into the corridor. Walking down the now-accustomed twists and turns, Owens
soon found himself at an inner airlock with an armed man standing on either
side.

The woman turned to him and said, “These men will
accompany you onboard. There, they will place monitor seals on your weapons,
communications, and propulsion controls. The monitor seals are linked to the
Lightning
Strike.
Should you attempt to activate any of these systems, we will know
immediately and take appropriate action. Do you understand?”

Owens grinned and nodded, “I believe I do.”

She departed and Owens went through the inner and outer
locks, leading the two men down the docking umbilical and into the
Holmes
.
He pointed out the consoles and the men placed small gray boxes with some sort
of adhesive on each of them. The men pressed small squares on their top
surfaces which obliged with beeps and dim-lit amber lamps. Their task
completed, the two men exited without a word.

“Hmmm, I’m hungry, Owens said aloud. “I’m going to the
galley.” And with that, he headed purposely for his announced destination.

He reached the galley, sat down at the mess table and
watched the door as it slid shut. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah, it’s okay to talk, Boss.”

“You’ve already analyzed those boxes?”

“Yeah, it looks like they serve dual purposes. First,
I detected low level scans of the consoles where they were placed … so it looks
like they’re watching for any activity in the systems the consoles control,
even a transfer of that control to an auxiliary system.”

“And the second purpose would be what? Eavesdropping?”

“You got it. I found the carrier wave that’s aimed
back to the
Lighting Strike.
The good news is that their capability for
picking up voice is limited to main control and only about three meters into
the corridor with the em-lock closed.”

“Good work, Hec. Then it’s safe to talk as long as we
stay out of those areas.”

“That’s about it,” Hec answered. “Now come on, Boss,
bring me up to date. I’m dying to find out what happened to you and Sharné down
on the planet. By the way, where is she?”

Owens raised his hand, “Stay calm, I’ll get to that.
But first, I need to program the auto-cook, I really am hungry.”

● ● ●

While Owens was programming the auto-cook on the
Sherlock
Holmes
, Sharné was sitting in her ship’s richly appointed quarters, lost in
deep thought. By way of long established tradition, a number of
ships-of-the-line had a stateroom prepared and reserved for the Grand Patriarch
or his designate. The ship in which Sharné now resided was one such ship and it
had been provided exclusively for Sharné’s comfort.

But Sharné was not comfortable; she was tired. Since
boarding, she had not been able to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time.
She could not turn off her mind. Instead, her thoughts circled in an endless
loop, pausing on one recent event then jumping on to the next. And overlaying
it all was her confusion over Owens. It always came back to him. She sighed as
she remembered the few stolen kisses, accompanied by the lingering embraces.
However, as she continued to think of him, the marvel of her feelings would
always give way to worry.

Up until meeting Owens, she had never been emotionally
involved with a man. Typical of the citizens of Golstar, she was trained to
control her emotions. Public displays of affection of any kind were
discouraged, especially between opposite sexes. Marriages were often arranged
to facilitate political or business interests. The concept of romance was more
of an abstract than a reality. Her life was full, with little room for thought
of sharing her future with another.

So why now did she have such an overwhelming
attraction to Owens? On Selane, she practically threw herself at him.
Thankfully, he had not seemed to mind her advances, and she smiled at the
memory. It was if someone had opened an inner door, revealing a well of suppressed
feelings waiting to escape at the right opportunity.

However, not all of her feelings were as benign. Her
unexplained angry outbursts, then the panic she had felt back on the
Holmes
were not events she remembered as fondly as the stolen moments with Owens. All
of these departures from her normal behavior were more than bewildering. She
was at a loss. She could not understand what was happening to her, and at times
she wondered about her sanity.

The momentary thought of questioning her sanity was
like a dash of icy water. Her stubborn will reasserted itself, and with a deep
breath, she deliberately pushed those thoughts aside. She would not succumb to
despair. She was a Keeper of the Way. Had she not survived the attack on the
Light
Saber
and saved Owens’ life on Selane? She was strong and would remain so.
There were more important matters to consider than her self-centered worries.

She determinedly looked back to their time on Selane
and the mysterious encounter with the Controller. She pondered that strange
featureless room to where she had been transported. It was still difficult to
believe it was part of a deep underground structure built by a powerful race of
aliens thousands of years ago.

Until the moment when she found herself in that room,
she had been totally unaware of the Controller’s existence. She had no doubt it
was a closely-held secret kept by the Founder and all of Golstar’s leaders.
Nevertheless, as Keeper of the Way, she should have access to such important
information. It troubled her to think her father had held this information back
from her. Did he not trust her? And what did it all mean? Why was it a secret?
What was the link between the Founder and the alien complex?

She clenched her fists in frustration. She had no
answers, at least not yet. Her questions would have to wait until she saw her
father. He had the answers and she vowed she would not be denied them. She
closed her eyes. These thoughts were of no use either. They simply served to
aggravate her already anxious mind. She needed to direct her mind away from her
father.

Unbidden, her thoughts were again drawn back to Owens.
She relived her embarrassing reaction to finding Owens alive after believing
him dead. She had never before fainted. In her mind’s eye, she saw his powerful
figure standing before the room’s single feature, a simple raised platform with
a ball of light hovering above it. She remembered the assurance in his voice,
deep with concern, in marked contrast with the glowing orb, the Controller
speaking through it with its sexless voice.

The Controller offered little real information,
instead making tantalizing but vague references to a vanished alien race. It
talked of proper authority, command sequences and the mysterious Compact. Her
mind kept returning to that scene. Why, she wondered, that one particularly?

Oblivious to her surroundings, Sharné was lost in this
reflection, alternately contemplating the nature of the mystery-shrouded
subterranean complex and then Owens’ comforting embrace. For the moment, her thoughts
about her own behavior were put aside. Her ruminations were interrupted by a
soft tapping coming from her door. She touched a small sensor on the arm of her
chair. The door slid open. Standing before the threshold was a bridge officer
in a spotless dress uniform.