Shadows of Golstar (35 page)

Hec replied, “How could I forget? After all I am a…”

Owens interrupted, “Yeah. I know you’re an AI, but you
seldom act like one, and I forget sometimes. To continue, the crumpled side
panel where the coupling blew had similar coloring. When I looked at it, I saw
that it wasn’t painted or appliqué. I have since realized that the colors were
similar to
Saber’s
entryway ceiling. I know now that the odd color
scheme wasn’t really what I had originally thought it was.”  

“What’s the big deal about a color scheme?”

“Only this, the pattern and color weren’t there by
design. It wasn’t a pigment-based color displayed in some abstruse artistic
motif. It was simple corrosion, Hec. It was rust, a mottling of brown and
orange oxidation on ceiling panels that matched what I saw on the fragment of
the corridor’s panel. It wasn’t part of the décor, but a sign of decay,
neglect.”

“Are you sure?” Hec asked. “There are plenty of
materials they could have used that wouldn’t corrode, but could mimic its appearance.
Couldn’t it have been something that just looked like rust? Take this ship, for
instance; its inner panels are made of a fiber-plastic composite. It can be
made to look like almost anything.”

Owens shook his head, “No. It was metal, and it was
oxidized and pitted. I can’t explain why they used something that would be
subject to such deterioration. Perhaps it was simply because it was cheap and
readily available from local sources. I don’t know, but when I combined this
with all of other things I saw, including the crystallized metal, a picture
began to emerge.”

“Yeah, they don’t believe in maintenance.”

Owens went on, “But that’s not all.” Holding up
another finger, he said, “And now for three; the components and wiring from the
blown coupling were exposed, and even in the poor lighting, it was easy for me
to see what was inside. I remember noting that their configurations were
strange but still somehow familiar. Since then I’ve had a chance to think about
it, and it finally came to me. I began to see why the coupling’s components
were so familiar.” He paused.

“Come on Boss, don’t leave me hanging,” Hec said.

“A museum,” Owens answered, “Would you believe they
were right out of a museum exhibit? I saw an exhibit years ago when I was
pulling special guard duty while still on the force. What I could see of the
Saber’s
components and light-wave harnesses matched pretty closely with what I had
seen at that museum exhibit.”

“Wait a minute. Did you say light-wave harnesses, like
bundled fiber cables?” Hec asked. “We still use that technology in surface
vehicles and small electronic devices, but no longer in spacecraft, the
Holmes
included. We’ve been using glasstic sheathing for almost seventy-five years.”

“I’m not that familiar with it, only that it is used in
spacecraft.” Owens interjected.

“It serves two purposes really,” Hec explained. “The
transparent glasstic sheath is sandwiched between the
Holmes
inner and
outer primary skins and acts as a single, gigantic photonic communication
pathway. It connects me to all the electronics and working parts of the
Holmes
.
It was first used by the military. You can put holes in it like Swiss cheese,
and it will still pass data uninterrupted. The only way to disrupt the
communication flows is to cut the ship in half or completely vaporize the outer
hulls. In either case, the ship would be destroyed anyway. Its secondary
function is to double as a very effective thermal insulator. It’s a tremendous
improvement over long trunks of vulnerable, bundled light-wave cabling and not
susceptible to jamming as with air-wave technology.  So,” Hec said
returning to the subject, “just what exactly was in that museum exhibit?”

“It was part of a traveling exhibit. It was a series
of displays showing technologies used by the military over past centuries.
Actually, it was one particular display that came to my mind. It was a section
of a mothballed corvette that was one of the last ships to use the Viridian
shield technology. Portions of the ship had been opened up so that the museum
patrons could walk through and see the working components.”  

He stifled another yawn, “I remember walking through
the display, marveling at the antiquated ship’s technology that was
state-of-the-art in its own time. From what I saw of the
Saber’s
guts,
its equipment configurations were a very close match to that old museum
display, and here’s the kicker; the corvette was over two hundred years old!”

“So the
Light Saber
was…”  Hec began.

“It was a damned antique, Hec! The
Saber
was
better suited for a scrap recycler than space duty. This certainly doesn’t jibe
with what I was told back on Denbus about Golstar and its overwhelming
technological superiority. This opens up a host of new questions, the most
obvious being, what in the hell happened to their technology?”

Hec said, “I don’t get it. It’s well documented that
they kicked our butts three hundred years ago. It’s in your briefing files.
What could possibly have happened since then that would bring them to this,
passing off space junk as space ships?”

“It’s too soon to come to any solid conclusions,”
Owens said. “We are just beginning to see a ‘what’ but not yet the ‘why’ behind
it. Oh, one more thing, it was their docking rig that clinched it for me. When
I went to cut the wreckage away, the clamps parted with very little effort;
they appeared crystallized just like the supports I saw in the
Saber’s
passageway.”  

The AI managed to elicit an astonished voice. “That
also explains how I overestimated what it would take to pull away from the
Saber
.
The Golstar ship was a virtual bucket of bolts, literally falling apart even
before the attack.”

Owens agreed. His voice was becoming gravelly with
fatigue. “Yes, and I think even some of the basic, environmental systems were malfunctioning.
When I first entered the ship, it was warm and humid.” He yawned, “But now do
you see why I think there was more than just luck involved in our escapes,
especially the first attack?”

 “Absolutely,” Hec responded. “The attacker had
to be from Golstar. The unusual design we found unfamiliar, was simply ancient!
Yes, I can see now why we penetrated the first attacker’s shields so easily.
That had to be a Golstar ship. It was ancient. No doubt built with old Viridian
class shields or their equivalent. And that missile they fired at us; I joked
about them throwing stones.”

“Well, you weren’t too far off, just old technology;
they never really had much of a chance. The second attack also had to originate
from Golstar. It was more innovative and relied on surprise and brute force
over technology. They could have had us that time, but we had the
anti-personnel ammunition and our beefed-up engines also helped. There was some
luck involved but in the end, it was superior technology that gave us the final
edge.” Owens paused and sighed heavily.

“One more observation I believe is somehow related to
their lack of technology, a lack of people. It bothered me when I saw only
three people aboard the
Saber
. Including Sharné, I saw one steward and a
guard. That’s it. I didn’t see another crew member at any time once the attack
started. I saw no damage control crew, no evidence of human activity
whatsoever.”  

“I may not be a military man, but even I know it takes
a large number of people to crew a ship of that size. I didn’t encounter any
crew members running to their stations. It should have been a hive of activity,
but I saw nothing that would indicate anyone else was aboard except whom I just
mentioned. It was a very strange feeling, as if the steward, the guard, Sharné
and I were the only ones onboard. I did hear what I believed to be the captain,
but only as a voice over the ship’s intercom.

“So you think a short-handed crew is somehow related
to the use of old ships?” Hec asked.

“There’s a link. I don’t know exactly what it is yet,
but there’s a connection, and I intend to find it… later. After all that’s
happened, I’m just too tired to think about it anymore. What I need right now,
is a long uninterrupted nap, but before I slept, I wanted you to know what I’ve
seen and the direction I’m headed in my thinking. I value your input. Now you
know what I know.”  

Owens yawned. His eyes were half closed. Exhaustion
was finally overtaking him. The medical treatment he had received could not
make up for lack of sleep. Even with the looming threat of the Golstar ship, he
knew he had to get some rest.

“Thanks Boss,” Hec’s voice had dropped, “I appreciate
your trust.”

“You’re welcome. Now, unless our situation worsens,
would you wake me up in six hours? I plan to talk with Sharné about at least
some of what we’ve just discussed. Maybe then I’ll finally find what out what
in the hell’s going on, and why Golstar wants me so badly, dead or alive.”
Owens flopped back on the bed and closed his eyes. Within a minute, he was quietly
snoring.

A tall uniformed man strode through the main doors of
a squat, imposing building out into bright sunlight. The man was impeccably
groomed and marched down broad steps leading away from the building with an
unmistakable military appearance. He looked neither right nor left and if one
was to look closer, he appeared deep in thought. He walked down the stairs
toward a surface vehicle idling on the street. Its oversized back door
retracted, waiting for its passenger.  

Although his face remained impassive, the colonel,
known as the ‘General’ within Preservers of the Way was not a happy man. His
stoic demeanor hid the frustration he was feeling. He slowly entered and sat
stiffly in the back seat of his official carrier. His stomach was twisted in
knots, and he could feel acid beginning to lap at the back of his throat. To
add to his discomfort, the collar of his uniform tunic felt tight and chafed
his neck. He released the topmost clasp, running his finger along the neckline
trying to loosen the collar further. The constriction eased and rubbing his
neck, he sighed with relief. For once, he would be glad to get home and change
out of the stiff uniform.  

The military driver had observed his obvious
discomfort and asked, “Is there anything I can get for you Colonel?”

“No,” he responded crisply. “Just take me to my
residence.”

The driver quickly obeyed and the carrier pulled away
from the front of the Strategic Forces Procurement and Supply Center. Entering
into the traffic flow, the driver skillfully navigated the maze of streets that
was a part of a great, sprawling military complex. They slowed at a checkpoint
for passive screening. A confirmation message appeared on the carrier’s
console, and the driver resumed speed and entered the main thoroughfare, the
gateway into the civilian metro-plex.  

As usual, traffic was extremely light and there was
just a scattering of pedestrians on the walkways. Many of the buildings they
passed appeared empty and a vague sense of decay permeated the area. The
General shifted in his seat, oblivious to the deserted neighborhoods they
passed through. He fought to control the black mood descending on his psyche.

Granted, there was a good reason for his growing
displeasure. That reason was contained in the terse message he had just
received prior to his departure from his office. Before he had destroyed it in
a fit of rage, it had conveyed the bitter news that Janus Owens continued to
ride a phenomenal streak of luck and had once again avoided what should have been
certain destruction.  

The stratagem had failed.
His
stratagem had
failed. With mind racing, he reviewed the plan yet again but could find no
obvious fault. It should have worked. The element of surprise and two-to-one
odds was a traditional and usually reliable formula for success. Unable to find
an obvious flaw, the General rationalized its failure must be due to the inept
execution of his plan, and the enemy’s uncommon cursed luck.

He continued to believe the plan had been audacious,
brutally simplistic and close to foolproof. Yet to the General’s great dismay,
the target had again eluded his fate. What should have been a swift, powerful
killing stroke had instead been one more near-miss in a series of failed
attempts.

The
Light Saber
had been destroyed completely,
yet the enemy-of-the-state still lived. Now, traveling in a ship that appeared
virtually unscathed, this Janus Owens fled from the General’s agents and a
deserved fate. Further troubling to the General was the report the enemy’s ship
had actually appeared to have a slight edge in maneuverability and speed over
its Golstar pursuer.  

Shifting restlessly in his seat, the General thought
at least he could take some solace in the news the enemy appeared to be headed
for Selane instead of Berralton. He could not have obtained another ship for an
intercept had the enemy made for the home planet. The General had encountered
trouble enough in assembling space worthy crews for his original plan from the
limited number of supporters whom he could count on as being loyal to him
exclusively.  

With the enemy’s likely destination being that of the
planet Selane, there still remained an excellent chance to correct the error.
His agents could yet take the enemy out on the planet’s surface without
interference. Selane was normally out-of-bounds, even to the military.  

He vaguely recalled that it was something to do with
the Founder. It used to be a personal retreat or something. Now it was
considered a holy memorial. It was fitting really, as he thought about it; what
better place to terminate a threat to the Way than a holy site commemorating
the Founder of the Way. He only wished he could be there in person to witness
the interloper’s final termination. Better if he could end Owens’ life
personally, by his own hand.

As he thought about it more, some of his confidence
returned. Yes, he thought with a renewed conviction. His plan could still
succeed. This small glitch was only a temporary setback. He began to relax in
his seat as he thought it was also fortunate he had yet to communicate his bold
plan of action or convey its current sorry state to the Leader.  

With this new perspective, the pain in his stomach
lessened. He took a deep breath, relieved the Leader remained unaware of his
unsanctioned activities. While it was still his intent to notify the Leader of
his unilateral action, he hoped to convey at the same time its ultimate
success. There was no need to trouble the Leader with this momentary setback,
he told himself. Yes, he thought, the reward would still be his when he
announced the successful removal of this Janus Owens. A small smile appeared on
his thin lips.

The vehicle carrying the General slowed as it
approached a tall stately building situated on the southeast side of the city, near
the Empire River. The building afforded a panoramic view of the clear, blue
waterway with its scattered trees and rich vegetation lining each shore. The
General had purchased his residence primarily because of this location and he
never tired of the vista it afforded him. The carrier pulled into the
underground parking area below the noble edifice and without a word to the
driver, the General quickly exited and took the private lift up to his
penthouse located on the top floor.  

The lift opened, and the General entered the wide
foyer. Bright sunlight beamed through the skylight above, bouncing off the
polished stone-tiled floor. As he walked, his boots clicked loudly on the
tile’s hard surface. He strode quickly into his study and the sound of his heels
abruptly ceased as he transitioned to thick carpeting. He did not pause but
immediately headed for a tall ornate cabinet standing in a corner, fashioned of
native woods and hand rubbed with a rich dark oil-finish.  

He ran his hand over it in appreciation. It was a
beautiful piece; it had been custom made to his specifications when he had been
promoted to colonel, a present to himself. He opened its two curved doors, and
a large wooden rack filled with vintage wines was revealed. He reached out and
grabbed a bottle in the lower left-hand side of the rack. He pulled it about a
quarter of the way out until he heard the soft click. The rack split in two,
and opened outward to reveal an inner compartment. With its contents exposed,
the General reached in and removed a clear bottle filled with a colorless
liquid.  

The General took a crystal tumbler from the top shelf
of the cabinet and went over to a large chair and pedestal side table. He
opened the bottle and poured a generous amount of the liquid into the tumbler.
He put the bottle on the side table within arm’s reach and sat down.

He took a large swallow. The smooth liquor burned its
way down his throat, immediately loosening the remaining tightness in his
stomach. His face flushed in reaction to its molten heat. He took a smaller sip
and sighed. He smiled as the illegal spirits warmed him further. ‘Hard’ liquor
was banned by the Way. Only wine and weak ales were allowed and then only in
measured moderation. The penalties for public intoxication were quite severe.
However, as within any society, there were those who would ignore the rules and
take advantage of an untapped market, in this case, a market for bootleg
liquor. He had paid a lot of credits for his supply, but at times like this, he
considered it a very sound investment indeed.

His thoughts returned to the problem at hand, and he
began to consider new instructions to the crew of the ship chasing Janus Owens.
Though it was unpopulated, the planet Selane was not forgotten. No, he thought,
definitely not forgotten, and it was well protected. He knew of the safeguards
set in place among the scattered facilities on the planet, guarding the
valuable assets and protecting a holy shrine. The interloper could hardly be
expected to know of or defeat the numerous security systems in-place on the
planet’s surface. These systems could only help speed Owens’ ultimate fate. He
would need to send the security codes to his agents, so they would remain
unharmed in their pursuit of Janus Owens. Perhaps the security systems would
take care of Owens for them. He freshened his drink and considered going out on
the balcony to enjoy the view and consider the ways in which Owens might
ultimately meet his end.

With these thoughts, his mood began to lift further.
Victory would still be his. Surprisingly, his stomach took that moment to
rumble, and he realized that he had not eaten since that morning. He started to
rise from his chair, intending to retrieve a snack from the nearby pantry when
he was startled by a deep, cold artificial voice, “I am most disappointed in
you, my General. Is that contraband liquor that you are drinking? Never would I
have suspected you, a high-ranking member of the military, would participate in
such an illegal activity.”

At these words, his hunger forgotten, the General’s
heart began to beat rapidly. His whole body vibrated to its harsh pounding.

“But you are fortunate that I can overlook such a
transgression.” The synthesized voice came from a hooded figure standing in the
threshold of the den. The Leader raised gloved hands in both benediction and
greeting. The bright light from the foyer framed the Leader, creating an aura
of divinity.

The General quickly rose, moved from the chair and
dropped to his knees, as was the practice when addressing the Leader. His head
bowed. “Leader, you are most welcome in my home.” Then looking up he said,
“This is unexpected but a pleasure, nonetheless. May the Light of the Way
illuminate your path.” Though shaken and fearing the worst, the General was
pleased in the strength of his own voice. “And may I ask why you are here?”

The Leader took a step into the room. The holy visage
abruptly disappeared, and then the Leader completed the holy passage, “And may
the path you choose be the Way to true enlightenment.” The Leader said with
hands gesturing casually, “As to why I am here, it is only to discuss the
progress of your recent, bold attempt to remove our enemy.” The mysterious
figure paused, and added as if an afterthought, “And to obtain your signature
for the certificates of transfer documents I brought with me.”

Though he half-expected it, the General involuntarily
flinched at the mention of his plan. He thought desperately, vainly seeking a
way to blunt the failure, his failure. He could not fathom how the Leader had discovered
his plan. He had been very careful and only those directly involved knew of it.
He had instructed his agents to be most vigilant in protecting its secrecy.
 

Nevertheless, he conceded that someone had not been
careful enough. Or even worse, the Leader could have found out about the plan
by an informer secreted within the ranks of the General’s trusted associates.
It was difficult for him to accept; there was a spy within his loyal circle,
but then again, perhaps it was attributable to carelessness rather than
espionage. His thoughts refocused on the matter at hand. How would he answer to
the Leader?

Still kneeling, he belatedly realized his silence was
becoming pronounced. However, before he could frame a response, the Leader said,
“Oh, do get up General, it is not dignified to begin our discussion with you on
the floor… we should speak eye-to-eye on this.” A pause, “And perhaps you could
spare another glass?” The Leader nodded toward the bottle on the side table.

The General blinked and slowly rose from the floor
trying to regain some of the poise he had lost. Under these circumstances, he
had not expected a social overture from the Leader. He moved over to the
cabinet, his back now to the Leader and removed another glass. He turned to
pour the liquor and found the Leader had taken his chair. He filled the tumbler
and handed it to the Leader, then turned and drew up another chair and sat
before the gray hooded figure.

The Leader held up the glass the General had poured as
though admiring the craftsmanship used in creating the reflective cut planes
and facets of the crystal. The Leader lowered the drink slightly, holding the
tumbler in the manner of a toast and gestured for the General to do the same.
The General reached over, took up his own glass and raised it, likewise.  

“To success,” the Leader intoned, the harsh
synthesized voice giving no hint of derision and lifted the mask just enough to
expose a shadowed mouth. The General looked closely, but from his angle, he
could not discern anything unique, no special feature was apparent. He could
not even tell if the Leader was a male or female.