Shadows of Golstar (43 page)

Owens said, “That does strike a familiar note. We do
share the common malady of all governments in power. I imagine that how a
government accommodates such diverse political opinions will affect its tenure,
whether it enjoys prolonged success or suffers setbacks or eventual collapse.”

She seemed not to have heard him. “It is highly
probable there are members belonging to some of these groups who, at this very
moment, are entrenched within our law enforcement organizations,” she
continued. “Should we deploy our own resources, we can be almost certain word
of the missing artifact would soon spread.”

“I see,” he said, “that would cause you unwanted
publicity.”

 “Yes, the public outcry alone would be difficult
to manage. Allusions to wrongdoing or negligence on the part of the government
would greatly compound the issue and serve to further these misguided splinter
groups’ agendas.”

 She frowned, “Although there is no question the
government would be successful in countering the false propaganda, the cost to
the public trust, though not significant, is something we believe should be
best avoided. Therefore, we do not wish any adverse publicity surrounding the
statuette, if at all possible. Your assignment then is to locate and recover
the holy artifact and do it as quietly as possible.”

She allowed a small sigh to escape, “I will tell you
there is another contributing factor for not employing our own resources.”

“Go on,” Owens urged.

She nodded, “Historically, our society has experienced
a relatively low rate of theft-related crime. If the statuette is missing
because it was deliberately taken, our law enforcement would experience no
little degree of difficulty as they have very limited experience in this area.
I am not alone in my fear they would be hard-pressed to conduct a discrete,
comprehensive investigation. Their honest efforts could also result in unwanted
publicity. An additional factor is that your occupation, private investigation,
has not been needed or ever practiced within Golstar. We, therefore, had to
seek such services outside of our borders.”

“Okay, I have a better understanding of the assignment
and why you chose to go outside for an investigator. Now, just out of
curiosity,” Owens asked, “What is the range of your penalties for such crimes?”

She looked at him with a puzzled expression, “Range?
There is but one penalty that applies to all felonies and that is
life-termination by a firing squad.”

So, he thought, they still practiced that ancient,
barbaric form of punishment, and for
all
felonies. It must be a part of the military culture that was integrated into
Golstar society. Owens was troubled to discover Golstar continued the archaic
practice, and its indiscriminate application to a broad category of crimes, but
he gave no outward reaction.

“So,” he said, returning to the missing artifact, “you’re
keeping the possible theft of the Glow Hawk from the public?”

“Yes, only a few know of its theft, if that is what
truly has occurred.”

“Okay,” he said. “Then for this discussion, let’s
assume that it
was
stolen.”

She agreed, “Very well.”

He asked, “Do you know how many people actually know
that the statuette is missing and their identities?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Fortunately, it is few. The Grand
Patriarch, the Guardian of the Way, the Master Curator, his three assistants
and of course, myself, are the only ones that we are aware of, who know the
Glow Hawk is missing.”

“Since it is such an important symbol to your people,
I assume it was on some sort of public display before it was taken?”

“That is correct. It is normally displayed prominently
at Founders Hall in the Capital.  We believe it was removed sometime after
the Hall was closed.  Fortunately, the discovery of the theft was made
before the Hall reopened to the public. A number of exact duplicates were made
in the past for display in various cities annually on Founders Day. When the
Glow Hawk was discovered missing, one such facsimile was placed in its stead.
To the unschooled eye, it is identical.”

“I see,” he said rubbing his chin.

Though he hid it from Sharné, Owens had listened to
her story with growing incredulity. It hadn’t made much sense. The plot read
like an ancient, poorly written dime-store novel right out of his collection of
old detective stories.

Sharné looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to
comment.

He tried to appear that he was seriously considering
the problem. He was, but not in the manner she likely perceived. None of it
hung together for him. First of all, the crystal bird had been missing for a
long time. He estimated at least six months. How had they kept it a secret for
such a long time? If it had been stolen, it was likely taken by one of those
political factions. It would seem that if it was taken for some sort of
political gain, the news of the theft would have already spread. It just didn’t
hold together.

In addition, if he overlooked the length of time it
had been missing, he could not fathom how they could expect to continue the
cover-up if he, a citizen of Confederated Planets, were to conduct the
investigation. Orientation or no orientation, his ignorance of their customs
and religion would eventually trip him up and shine like a beacon to any member
of Golstar society he came in contact with. Although his exposure to the people
of Golstar was limited so far to Sharné, the guard and a steward, he imagined
his physical presence would stand out as well, since the gravity on the
Light
Saber
was close to e-normal. This indicated similar conditions would be
found down on the surface of Berralton. With his Loder physique, he would not
easily blend in with people bred in lighter gravity conditions.

 He gave Sharné a reassuring smile, though he
knew there was something else lurking behind the contrived story surrounding
the missing artifact, a lot more, but he couldn’t begin to guess what it was.
Obviously, Sharné knew more than she was telling. He could only be sure of one
thing; they wanted him here for a reason totally unrelated to the one she just
gave.

He asked one last question. “May I ask why you, or I
should say why Golstar, selected me, specifically, for this job?”

“I do not have all the details,” she answered. “And I
do not wish to disappoint you, but you will understand we were limited in our
search to what was readily available through your public information channels.”

“Oh?”

She appeared to hesitate, “Yes. To put it more simply
and somewhat bluntly, we reviewed a number of private investigative agencies
that advertised in your commercial media. We narrowed a list down to a small
number of agencies that had easily verifiable references on public file. The
list was relatively small. Obviously, your agency was included in that list.
You had an excellent reputation with the added advantage you were the sole
employee of your firm.”

“I see,” he said. They
had
found him in a
directory, or so they said. The added factor that he was the sole employee
added a number of other questions in his mind. Her last answer only added to
his feeling of dissatisfaction. However, he decided, for the time being, he
would keep his doubts and other questions to himself. There were other, more
pressing issues that needed to be addressed, like their survival for one.

The street remained virtually empty; the walkways on
either side were dotted here and there with the occasional pedestrian. Vacant
buildings, former centers for mercantile and mining exchanges looked blindly
into the street, their once bustling hallways deserted.  Their exteriors
were beginning to show the first stages of dereliction. Once pristine facades
were now faded, a gray film of dirt covered the outer walls. Refuse had
accumulated in corners and cul-de-sacs; decorative ironwork revealed faint
patches of brown, the first signs of corrosion. A few small businesses
stubbornly remained open, refusing to recognize the encroaching decay.  

Loudly wailing the urgency of its mission, an
emergency vehicle sped down the empty street. The strobe of its emergency
lights flickered against building facades, creating the look of an ancient
motion picture and highlighting the shabbiness of this neglected part of the
city. The vehicle quickly passed without slowing, its urgent business being
elsewhere within the city. The echoes of its passage faded into the distance,
and quiet returned to the empty street.

A woman of indeterminate age walked briskly down the
stone walk, carrying a courier packet tightly under one arm. The autumn air was
unseasonably warm, and she wore a light work-shift that identified her as
someone who worked in city administration. The woman was tall and although the
work-shift hid her figure, she appeared slightly overweight. Her hair was a
carrot-red and framed a plain, but not unattractive face.  

Minister Joselé resisted the urge to adjust her wig.
How she hated her disguise. The heavy padding she wore beneath her clothing was
hot, and the unaccustomed makeup on her face itched terribly. She ignored her
discomfort and strode purposely forward, as if on some official errand. She was
careful not to walk too fast or too slow.  Her steps clicked loudly on the
stone walk. She took no time to admire any of the worn, intricately carved
scenes in each stone tile as she might have normally. She had to get to the
meeting place without being intercepted by the Grand Patriarch’s agents.

She was pleased that she had foreseen an eventual
confrontation with the Grand Patriarch and had prepared measures to ensure her
freedom. She had secreted clothing and disguises in a number of abandoned
buildings in strategic areas across the city. The old fool had underestimated
her, but that was not surprising; he was, after all, quite insane. His
insistence on the radical actions to address the crisis, the crisis he had
created in his own mind, had long ago demonstrated he had become unstable. A
smile fleetingly crossed her lips. No matter, the Preservers would soon have matters
back in hand.

She concentrated back on her purpose. She
surreptitiously glanced around the area. There were only three people in her
immediate vicinity. So far, the few pedestrians she encountered on the walkway
had not given her a second glance. She chose the route carefully. She was
heading in the general direction of the city's administration center. As she
had expected, no one saw anything special about a harried civil servant
hurrying along the street to complete some mundane task for the city bureaucracy.
By hiding in plain sight, she had so far escaped the notice of the Grand
Patriarch’s agents.  

The path she traveled gradually widened and
approaching on her left was a graduated series of steps leading up to a massive
white building. Had she chosen to pause and look toward the entrance, she would
have seen a man and a woman framed in the large, open entryway. Had she looked
a little closer, she would have also observed that the man held the woman
protectively and had she taken the time, she could not have helped but notice
that both the man and the woman’s faces were streaked with tears.  

Behind the couple, through the open doors and
expansive hallway of the medical building, she might have received a momentary
glimpse of giant mechanisms reflecting light from the brightly lit interior of
the building. However, had she stopped and observed all of these things, she
would not have been in the least surprised.  

Blind to the small tableau taking place above her, she
looked neither right nor left but walked rapidly across the entryway; her
persona of a rushed civil servant firmly intact. Her purposeful strides carried
her quickly away from the distressed man and woman. She would make it to the
gathering place well before the meeting was scheduled to begin.  

● ● ●

The Guardian of the Way waited patiently to be
admitted to the Grand Council meeting chambers. As he waited, he reviewed the
current status of the rescue mission. The ships he had dispatched to Selane
were red-lining their drive engines and making reasonable progress, but it
would still take almost two day-cycles to reach the area. He, along with the
Grand Patriarch, had received new intelligence that had lightened their heavy
hearts. The latest information had provided an almost unthinkable scenario; the
two Golstar ships escorting the
Light Saber
had been taken over by an
unknown faction and had attacked and destroyed the
Light Saber.
 

However, incredibly, the data also revealed the
outsider’s ship had somehow escaped. Owens’ tiny ship was now being pursued by
one of the two attacking ships. Military intelligence could not explain why the
investigator’s ship did not immediately head out of the system to escape into
subspace. The Grand Patriarch was gratified to be informed that the outsider
ship’s normal-space capability seemed at least a match to that of the Golstar
pursuer. Thus far, Owens’ ship maintained a reasonable lead. Thankfully, the
Golstar ship was not able to close the distance to weapons range.

Still, the Guardian of the Way was troubled. Knowing
the outsider’s ship appeared equal in any way to a Golstar ship was a great
concern to Talin. Should the outsider somehow escape back to the Confederated
Planets and tell the story of how his ship escaped a Golstar ship, the
consequences for such a disclosure were profound. Yet his leader seemed
oblivious to this and Talin was dismayed by the Grand Patriarch’s dogged
persistence to continue with the plan in spite of all the recent setbacks. The
Grand Patriarch refused to be swayed in his belief Owens was the key to the
solution to their dilemma and he ignored any impediment to that tenet.  

His thoughts turned back to the desperate chase that
must be going on between the attackers and Owens. That the outsider’s ship
headed to Selane rather than Berralton had at first confused Talin and the
Grand Patriarch. They discussed Owens’ decision to go there instead of
Berralton. Owens could not have known about the political uncertainties Golstar
was experiencing. Logic indicated his ship would take the shortest route to a
populated planet. Assuming his scanning capabilities were on-par with what was
known of Confederated Planets level of technology. Owens’ ship should have made
for Berralton. However, instead of heading inward, towards the solar systems’
populated center, he had aimed his ship for the unpopulated planet of Selane,
which required some extensive navigational computations and an unnecessary
expenditure of fuel.  

In making such a major course change from his original
flight-path from the
Light Saber,
his decision was puzzling at first. He
could have no first-hand knowledge of the planet or assume that a rescue
mission was on its way. No, they concluded, he had to have made his decision
with help, from someone with inside information. They believed that information
could have come only from Sharné.

Isolated from the rest of the
Saber’s
crew, she
was the outsider’s sole interface on board. Only she would possess the knowledge
that would support the logic behind such a decision. Of course, it was still
possible Owens had decided to make for Selane out of pure chance. Nevertheless,
in light of the abrupt alteration from the original course heading, it seemed a
very real possibility that Sharné could be alive, thank the Founder.

He was suddenly brought back to the present when the
huge doors to the chambers began to open ponderously. The Secretary of Protocol
stood centered in the widening gap. The Secretary of Protocol was small of
stature and seemed on the verge of being swallowed up by his flowing robes. He
bowed graciously to Talin.

“Greetings Guardian,” his voice was surprisingly
husky. “May the Light of the Way illuminate your path.”

Talin acknowledged the bow with a brisk nod. “And may
the path you choose, be the Way of true enlightenment.”

Without another word, the Secretary of Protocol led
Talin to his customary seat, just below and to the right of the raised chair of
the Grand Patriarch. The leader of Golstar would be the last to enter. As Talin
settled into the chair waiting for the others to arrive, he stifled a sigh. He
hated these special sessions. As far he was concerned, they were a complete
waste of time.

He wanted to get back to his office and monitor the fleet’s
progress, but he was obligated to attend this archaic proceeding. Of late,
nothing ever seemed to be truly accomplished by these meetings. Instead of
raising and addressing real problems, these sessions were more often than not
used as forums to further one politician’s pet project or another.

Resignedly, he scanned the room. The members of the
Grand Council continued to enter the chambers and the tiers of seats gradually
filled. Occasionally, his eyes would turn toward Minister Joselé's seat. As he
expected, it remained empty. So far, the woman had eluded the citywide search.
He was not particularly surprised. The city was large and his security forces
were stretched extremely thin.

The noise of conversation had gradually increased in
the vaulted chambers, and soon most of the seats were filled. The Secretary of
Protocol stood and the room abruptly quieted. The Secretary of Protocol looked
pointedly at a last straggler heading for her seat. Once the latecomer sat
down, the Secretary of Protocol announced the Grand Patriarch. All stood while
the leader of Golstar made his way from the center aisle to the elevated
platform and the large ornate chair that dominated the room. He reached the
chair and turned around, standing before the assembled Ministers.  

He looked up at the large white globe suspended high
above the Ministers' heads. All the officials followed their leader’s example
and their heads tilted back, reverently looking up at the bright orb. Then, as
was customary, the Grand Patriarch led them in the Founder’s Prayer. With the
final word of the familiar blessing still echoing off the tall walls, the Grand
Patriarch sat down. The sea of Ministers quickly followed suit, sitting down in
uneven waves.

The
last Minister took his seat, and the Grand Patriarch looked over to the
Secretary of Protocol, who then immediately announced the brief agenda. He
finished by saying, “Minister Calder has requested this special session.” He
looked toward the Grand Patriarch, who gave a slight nod. He turned back to the
assembly and said, “Minister Calder now is recognized and will have the floor.”

Talin suppressed a groan, not Calder again. The man
seemed bent on calling for these special sessions to air his complaints. He
never proposed solutions of his own, but simply voiced his grievances to show
his constituents he was dutifully performing his duties. Talin had not known
him to author a single original idea. Instead, he depended on others to propose
remedies for his grievances. As with the majority of the ministers, he was not
chosen by popular consensus, he had inherited his position.
    

A man rose from the front row and straightened his
robes. His thick, sandy hair was carefully combed straight back from his
sloping forehead. His deep-set eyes were almost hidden beneath his prominent
brow. He removed a small sheaf of hard copy from a battered leather satchel,
placed the empty case on his seat and then strode with measured dignity to the
dais that stood to the left of the platform. He took his place behind the carved
stone podium and looked up to the Grand Patriarch. “With your leave I shall
begin my address."

The Grand Patriarch smiled and said, “This assembly
awaits you Minister, please proceed.”

Calder turned toward the sea of faces. Their
expressions ranged from mild interest to open boredom. Ignoring the lack of
responsiveness from his audience, he began in a practiced voice to decry the
deterioration of the birthing facilities in the northern cities of his sector.

As his voice began to drone, Talin allowed his
thoughts to drift back to Owens’ current situation. The man had been
phenomenally fortunate thus far. Talin was amazed by his survival. Owens should
have died a number of times, and Talin would not have wept at his demise.
However, now that Owens’ fate appeared linked to Sharné’s survival, he was
forced to hope the outsider continued his incredible streak of luck.