Shadows of Golstar (47 page)

She nodded, rose to her feet and stepped back. She
felt a sudden wave of relief and unexpected elation. She was feeling a little
off-balance, but good, nonetheless. She had gone from one end of the emotional
spectrum to another in a short span of minutes. She was surprised that instead
of feeling drained, she felt strong and vibrant. She experienced intense fear,
fear for herself, and then fear for Owens. And following that fear, she
remembered the flare of anger she felt when the animals had attacked Owens
followed by the sense of triumph when she dispatched the two remaining
predators.

Lastly, she recalled the overwhelming relief she had
felt seeing that Owens was alive. Her feeling of relief unexpectedly evolved
into something else, something unfamiliar. She puzzled over the indefinable
emotion; it was not unpleasant, quite the opposite. It then suddenly dawned on
her the anxiety and fear, her constant companions since leaving the
Saber,
had vanished. She was mildly surprised and gratified that even the troubling
thoughts that had plagued her since leaving Berralton had receded, and the
doubts she had entertained just before they landed had faded into the
background as well.

She considered, trying to find a word to describe what
she was feeling. She knew it was foolish, but she almost felt like laughing.
For the very first time, since the ordeal began, she felt that she had truly
contributed to their survival. And now she felt refreshed, alive, almost to the
point of being giddy. At least for the moment, the heavy trappings that
accompanied her responsibilities had fallen away, supplanted by the exhilaration
of victory over their most-recent brush with death. The Founder help her, she
felt unaccountably high in spirit. 

She saw that Owens was removing the repair kit. She
gazed at him and again experienced that other emotion. Though it was
unfamiliar, it was still comforting. It warmed her flesh and made heart her
heart beat faster. What was happening to her? Was it simple infatuation with an
admittedly handsome, mysterious stranger, or the beginning of something deeper?
At the moment, she did not seem to care. Impulsively, she bent over him, and
looked intently into his eyes.

He looked up and saw a slightly bemused expression on
her face. He wondered what he had done to upset her now. He suppressed a sigh.
“What’s wrong?”

“When you were holding me…” she began.

Uh oh, he thought. He had crossed over the line. It
was one more screw-up by the master diplomat and time to dust off the well-worn
apology. “I’m sorry if I…”

She interrupted him. “I am not asking for an apology,
Owens. I am just a little curious. It seemed a moment ago that you wanted to do
something… something more than hold me just now, did you not?”

He gazed up into her eyes. The look was still there.
What the hell, he thought and without further hesitation said simply, “Sharné,
I’m human, a healthy male and I can’t ignore the fact that you are a
strikingly, beautiful woman.  I won’t deny I find you distracting. In a
good way,” he hastily added. “So my honest answer is yes, another thought did
cross my mind.”

She straightened, still looking down at him. Her
bemused look gradually changed and with an impish smile, she said, “Thank you.”
And without another word, she walked over to where her weapon lay and retrieved
it. She returned and choosing a tree close to Owens, sat down with her back
against it, the weapon resting in her lap and waited patiently for Owens to
repair his suit.

She was glad to be finally rid of the cumbersome
disguise. However, the irony that she had simply changed from one disguise to
another did not escape her. But at least this one, she thought, did not require
the heavy make-up. Besides, had she consciously thought about it, she would
have been the first to acknowledge that wearing the cowl and robes of the
Preservers of the Way was an honor rather than a burden. She absentmindedly
adjusted the mask beneath her hood and glanced at the tiny amber indicator on
her gloved hand that gave assurance her voice synthesizer was working.

Most of the other members were already in attendance
with the noted exception being the familiar, imposing presence of the General.
His absence would be considered unusual; his normal habit was to be the first
to arrive and the last to leave. The meeting chamber buzzed with low pitched
conversations. The sound of the droning, synthesized voices resembled the
hive-noise of insects rather than the murmurs a group of humans might make. She
waited for the side discussions to subside. The sounds of conversation
gradually abated. Silence fell like a shroud across the assembled Preservers of
the Way.

The Leader walked up to a raised stone platform. All
eyes followed the shrouded figure’s silent progress. The Leader stepped up to
the platform, moving behind the dais and without preamble began the Litany of
Light. The assembled Preservers repeated the proverbial phrases in response.
The Leader finished with the customary blessing and without further ceremony,
began a pronouncement. “The enemy has again been attacked and I am saddened to
report that the attack failed to eliminate the threat.” There were more than a
few sudden intakes of breath.

Voices from the throng of Preservers began to buzz in
reaction. The Leader held up a hand and the noise abruptly died, “This latest
attack may come as a surprise to you. I will confess it did to me.” The Leader,
now with both clenched into fists, said in a strident voice, “I say to you all
this last attack was not sanctioned by the Preservers of the Way! It was
planned and carried out in secret by another working outside of our
fellowship!”

Voices again rose in volume, peppered with shouts of
dismay and questions regarding the identity of the perpetrator.

The Leader raised gloved hands for quiet and the noise
quickly subsided once more. “I will tell you! The one responsible for this
attack was a trusted member of our cause, a key participant of the inner
circle. He betrayed that sacred trust and far, far exceeded his authority.” The
Leader’s hands dropped. “And by doing so, he jeopardized our righteous cause.
Duplicity of this magnitude cannot and will not go unpunished! I tell you this
and mark it well; this traitor has paid the ultimate price for his arrogance!”

The Leader’s agitation increased. The dark-gray robes
rippled as the Leader began to pace back and forth on the platform, pausing now
and again to look at the Preservers below. “Lest anyone else become enamored by
their self-worth over that of the noble cause for which we labor, be warned and
carefully look to the fate of the traitor for your last reward.”

“Without proper review, consideration and delegation,
no one can act upon their own initiative. Those responsible for any
unsanctioned activities will be punished, punished most severely.” The Leader
abruptly stopped pacing and lapsed into silence. No one in the meeting chamber
dared to speak.

The quiet was broken by a muffled commotion
originating at the back of the assembly. The group of Preservers suddenly
parted and a member of the order came forward carrying a small, black velvet
pillow. On the pillow were two shiny, glittering objects. The hooded Preserver
bowed, assuming the pose of supplication before the Leader. With head still
bowed, the Preserver slowly extended the pillow towards the Leader. The Leader
reached over and plucked the small metal objects. The Leader held them out, as
if they were offensive. The Leader then descended from the platform and
proceeded to walk among the membership, pausing to look at each of them, as if
taking their measure.

The Leader then walked back up to the platform and
raised the objects higher. The leader remained silent, letting the expectation
grow. Finally, the Leader again spoke, “These are symbols, my brethren, symbols
of undeserved self-worth, of greed and a delusion of power. They now symbolize
nothing.” The Leader let the objects fall to the stone floor of the platform.
The Leader raised a boot and ground the lapel pins, designating the rank of
colonel, into the hard stone with the boot’s heel. The leader then withdrew the
boot. The soft metal had been reduced to two unrecognizable lumps. The Leader
looked out to the gathered Preservers. “I trust the meaning of this small
demonstration has not been lost on any of you.”

“Now then,” the Leader’s rigid posture assumed a more
relaxed aspect, “I open the floor for comment.” The Leader looked expectantly
at the Preservers.

The Preservers, accustomed to the sudden, almost
mercurial shifts of mood and subject matter by the Leader, knew what was
expected. One figure stepped forward, separating itself from the semi-circle of
Preservers. “We bless your leadership and thank the Founder for bringing you to
us. You lead us down the true path. And now through your vigilance, one who was
unworthy of our holy cause has been removed. Through your efforts, the Light
remains gloriously bright this night.” Others in-turn, expressed their
appreciation for the Leader’s wisdom and guidance. The Leader graciously
acknowledged the numerous accolades. 

The Leader then waited for more serious comment and
was rewarded when a Preserver stepped forward and asked, “What of the
dark-bringer? You stated the unsanctioned attack had failed. Is the
dark-bringer not now on Berralton? We have received no word on his status.” The
Preserver stepped back.

The Leader nodded slowly, “A very sound question.
Indeed, that was a serious oversight by the traitor.” The Leader pointedly
omitted any direct reference to the ‘General’ and looked up to address all the
assembled Preservers. “By all means, I shall now endeavor to correct that
oversight...”

“Our enemy was attacked by two Dreadnought class ships
from our own fleet outside the orbit of Crystone.” A collective gasp came from
the Preservers. The Leader went on to explain the mutiny of the sister ships,
the attack on the
Light Saber
and Owens’ incredible escape. The Leader
had left out the fact the Grand Patriarch’s daughter had been with Owens during
the attack. The Leader finished with, “The dark-bringer has successfully landed
on Selane.”

A number cries were heard from the Preservers. One
voice blurted, “The Shrine world! His blasphemy has no bounds!”

It was uncomfortably quiet for a moment. The Leader
said gravely, “I do hope you are not as free with that designation outside of
this meeting place?”

The Preserver responsible for the outburst knelt and
said, “I am sorry and beg your forgiveness, Leader. I vow to you I would never
reveal or discuss the importance of Selane to anyone outside of the inner
circle.”

“Let it not be said that I am not forgiving. Does not
the Founder himself declare that forgiveness is the first step to
reconciliation and that reconciliation is the foundation for the renewal of the
faith? Arise and mark your vow, but know I will hold you to it.”

The Preserver stood, pulled back the hood and held a
gloved thumb to the mask’s now exposed forehead and intoned, “I so mark this
vow.”

The Leader then pointedly looked at each Preserver and
said, “I expect all of you will renew your vow of silence on this. The true
worth of Selane is known only by us and those within the government, and soon
only the Preservers will be privy to the secret.”

Discussions followed covering alternative contingency
plans for the outsider’s demise and various timetables for the new revolution.
Time passed slowly and Minister
Joselé
found herself
relieved as the formal talks dwindled.

Silence finally overtook the throng as all eyes looked
to the hooded figure of the Leader. After a brief time, the Leader raised
gloved hands again and gave the parting benediction. Before being dismissed,
the Leader reminded them of the next meeting time and place. They slowly filed
out of the chambers. One member hung back and waited until the others had left.

“Leader,” the synthesized voice warbled, “if you
permit it, I wish a moment of your time.”

“Of course, what do you want to discuss?” The Leader’s
arms opened in welcome.

Owens slowed his pace.  “Damn it, now the compass
isn’t working. Something’s wrong with my wrist-comp.”

“Mmm?” Sharné voiced distractedly. She looked up and
barely avoided bumping into him.

“I’ve lost the directional heading. It’s jumping all over
the place and won’t settle down.” He frowned at the changing numbers. They had
resumed their journey and walked for only short time when Owens had noticed the
errant readings. Annoyed, he flicked the display with his finger. “I wonder if
it was damaged during the skirmish with the teddies. I’d be surprised; they're
built pretty tough.”

Sharné’s
mind was elsewhere. Her perplexing thoughts
surrounding Owens had been foremost on her mind. While immersed in her
reflections, she had nearly forgotten the danger they were fleeing. Rather than
moving to escape the mutineers bent on murdering them, it seemed more like a
recreational walk in the woods back on Berralton. Owens’ sudden, irritated
declaration brought her back to the present.

She quickly gathered her thoughts and asked, “Could
there be something external causing it? Perhaps some type of interference is
affecting its function, a jamming device?”

“Well, I suppose it’s possible, but I can’t imagine
the mutineers would carry a portable jamming device powerful enough to create a
fluctuation like this.” He shook his wrist for emphasis.

“What do you think it could be then?”

“You got me,” he said. “All I know is that whatever’s
causing it has enough strength to interfere with the magnetic compass function.
I’m not particularly technically inclined, but I would think any jamming would
be aimed at communications frequencies rather than a simple instrument for
detecting magnetic poles.”

He thought a moment. “I guess it could be caused by some
natural source, like a mineral deposit.” He looked again at his wrist-comp.

She said, “I am only versed on the general geological
make-up of Selane. I suppose there could be some native ore that could cause
the problem.”

“But even if that were the case,” he said, “these
things are supposed to be well buffered to allow for fluctuations caused by
local influences. Assuming the buffer hasn’t been compromised, a magnetic field
that would cause the wrist-comp to malfunction for this long would be spread over
a good-sized area.”

 “And,” he added, “provided it’s just not broken,
from the way the wrist-comp is failing to lock-in on magnetic north, I would
have to guess whatever causing the problem is particularly strong, at least
strong enough to create a fluctuating magnetic field.”

She said, “Well, even so, it was not truly providing
us genuine guidance was it? It only provided us a point of reference after all.
I seem to recall you saying it would prevent us from walking around in
circles.”

“Yeah, but I failed to add it was also providing a
record of our relative position from the
Holmes’
landing site
coordinates. We could have transmitted them to a rescue party to speed our
recovery.” He shook his wrist again.

Sharné sighed dramatically, “Well, it is not the first
time things have not exactly gone our way.”

He chuckled, “Now that’s an understatement.”

Since the attack by the teddies (he couldn’t think of
any other name to call them), her attitude had definitely changed and for the
better, he thought. Her demeanor had noticeably softened and she no longer
seemed to be constantly on her guard. Thankfully, her cold reserve had
virtually disappeared, at least for the present. She now seemed reasonably
alert, but not on a razor’s edge as she had seemed while on the
Saber
and later the
Holmes.
As a result, he was having a harder time ignoring
her feminine presence. His attraction for her seemed to be growing and trying
to decipher her last comment to him after the teddies’ attack had only added to
his growing distraction.

He tried to put aside these thoughts.  He said,
“We might as well try to keep on in the general direction we were heading.
We’ll use the sun’s position in the sky a reference point. But with our
constant need to detour around trees and bushes, it won’t be easy to travel in
a straight line.”

As he cinched up one his pack’s straps, he continued,
“Well, I’ve wasted enough of our time. We haven’t gone very far since you were
cornered by the teddies. I don’t know how long it’s going to take for them to
sleep off the effects of the dispersal gun, so I’d like to put as much distance
as we can between them and us. I think we discouraged them enough to keep them
from tracking us when they wake, but a little caution never hurts.”

They resumed their brisk pace. They had only traveled
a few hundred yards when Owens suddenly froze. He put his finger to his lips.
Sharné immediately became motionless and she watched Owens anxiously. He slowly
turned his head, and appeared to be intently listening for some sound that had
escaped her notice.

After a time, he shook his head. “Sorry, I thought I
heard something.”

“The mutineers, do you think they have they found us?”

“No, no I don’t think so,” he reassured her. He kept
his voice low, at odds with what he had just said. “I guess I was mistaken...”
he hesitated. “That was really strange. I guess that it’s more like I
sensed
something than actually heard it. The feeling suddenly came over me, and
then it went away.”

She looked at the uncertainty in his eyes, “Owens, I
do not understand. What was it that you sensed?”

He frowned, “Damned if I know. It felt like a
rustling, like something or someone was rousing. I’ve never felt anything like
that before. I mean sure, in my job, you develop a survival instinct, and
sometimes I get a sense when things aren’t quite right; sort of like a mental
alarm. But this wasn’t like that. No, this was definitely something different.”
He struggled to express the feeling. “It felt…” He stopped search for words.

She asked, “Do you think it might have been an
animal?”

“I just don’t know,” he answered. There was
frustration in his voice, “I definitely sensed something stirring. It was so
distinct I thought I had actually heard it. Maybe it
was
an animal.” He
shook his head, “I wouldn’t have mentioned it, but the feeling came on so
sudden and strong. It caught me off-guard.” He shook his head in
dissatisfaction. “I wish I could explain it better, but I can’t.”

She moved closer.

“It’s gone now,” he said softly. “I don’t feel it
anymore.”

“You say you have not sensed something like this
before?”

He shook his head, “Never. Other than my cop’s sixth
sense, I’ve never experienced anything like this. I was tested as a child and
didn’t score high on any of the psi-scales.”

She asked, “So, what do you think we should do?”

“Real or imagined, it’s gone now, so we do the same as
we’ve been doing. We go forward, away from a known enemy,” he replied. “I don’t
think it’s wise to stay in any one spot for long.”

Sharné remained disturbed by Owens’ revelation. What
could it mean? In the short time she had known him, he had always seemed
logical, unflappable, a man prepared for any eventuality, a man solidly
grounded in the real world. To hear him now express this uncertainty about a
mysterious feeling was the last thing she would have expected.

Where Owens was concerned, her emotions were already
in mild turmoil. Since the attack, she experienced intense fear, anger and more
recently feelings of exhilaration, liberation and a gradual return of
self-confidence. But above it all, she felt a growing closeness to Owens. When
he was near, she felt safe and something more.
 
He pulled at her in ways she could still not understand. She could feel
him reaching out to her even then. She moved to stand closer to him, beside
him, almost but not touching.

“I am ready,” she said.

He continued to stand still, seeming to listen for
whatever it was that had come to his attention. She unexpectedly felt the urge
to reach out and gather him in her arms and comfort him. Or perhaps she was the
one who needed the comfort? She was startled at her bold thoughts. Touching was
frowned upon in her world. Physical manifestations of affection were limited
and always took place in privacy, behind closed doors. Before now she had never
experienced the need to hold or be held by a man. Sex, though practiced, was
not discussed openly in Golstar’s polite society.

Why now, she wondered, did she feel the need to be
held by this stranger from a foreign world, an enemy of her people? Standing
close to him, she took in his masculine scent, a subtle musk overlaid by
suggestion of cinnamon. Her heart began to beat a little faster. 

He finally noticed her close presence and turning to
her, said, “I hope I haven’t upset you. I know I must have sounded a little crazy,
but it was just a passing feeling.” When she didn’t respond, he asked, “Are you
still okay?”

“Oh, I am sorry, Owens; I am not worried about that.
When you first told me you heard something, I immediately thought the mutineers
had caught up to us. For a while, I had almost forgotten the danger, but your
voiced concern jolted me back to reality.”

“Yeah,” he said, “some reality… whoever these people
are, their sole aim is to take me out of the picture without consideration of
others. Sharné, you were pulled into this because of me, and for that I’m truly
sorry.”

She touched his sleeve, “Owens, please do not
apologize for something that is not your fault. If not for Golstar’s request,
none of this would have happened. Without that, you might still be within
Confederated Plants, plying your trade, and leading a normal existence.”

“At least life-and-death scenarios are not exactly
foreign to me. But that can’t be said about you. I can only imagine what it’s
been like for you.” He paused to scan their surroundings once more. “I’m
beginning to wonder if it might have been better for you to have stayed on the
ship and taken your chances with Hec.” His voice became softer. “Too late for
second guessing, but I want you to know this; I will do everything I can to
keep you safe, whatever it takes.”   

It dawned on her what he was implying. “Please do not
consider giving yourself up to save me.” Even now, she could not tell him how
truly important he was to her people… and she finally admitted, to her. “We
have come so far. You have given me hope we can yet prevail. Please, just give
me your word you will fight to keep us
both
alive, as will I.”

He looked at her, wondering at urgency of her words.
He smiled. “Okay, you have my promise.”

She dropped her hand from his shoulder, relieved.

He seemed to hesitate before continuing, his voice
almost a whisper. “I want you to know that you’re… more than just a client to
me, Sharné. I promise I won’t allow anything to happen to you.”

She was startled by the sincerity in his voice and the
underlying emotion implied by his words. She looked up into his eyes and
searched for some indication of his feelings. What she saw was the quiet
strength she had sensed in him while aboard the
Light Saber
. And something
else, something that moved her to place her hands on either side of his face
and draw him down close to hers. She continued to gaze into his eyes, watching
as they reflected a dawning realization that matched her own awakening
feelings.

“Sharné…” he began.

She shook her head slightly, silencing what he was
about to say. “This is not a time for words,” she breathed. “But just in case
there is not another opportunity.” Her soft lips touched his. They were
hesitant at first, and then the kiss grew more urgent and their tongues began a
gentle exploration. The unexpected kiss was full of promise and for the first
time in his life, Owens lost himself in the innocent passion of her embrace.
All too quickly, she pulled away. Her face was flushed and her eyes shined with
emotion, “I wish there was time to…”

He gently pulled her back, lifted her chin and kissed
her once more.
 
He smiled, “There will be
other opportunities; I promise that too.”

“Then I think I will hold you to that promise as
well.”

Reluctantly, they separated and by silent agreement,
they resumed their trek through the forest. As they walked, recognition of
their growing affection for one another pushed aside other thoughts. Unaware
their thoughts ran in parallel lines, they reflected upon that kiss, wondering
and hoping it meant something beyond the warm intimate gesture. Was this first
blossom in a flowering relationship? Or was it simply an expression of comfort,
creating a momentary haven from the harsh fate that they were trying to escape.
Each wondered what the other felt. Each knew what they wanted the other to
feel.

Owens imagined what it would be like to make love to
Sharné. He remembered the softness of her lips and wondered how her bare skin
would feel against his? Owens tripped over a small exposed root, startling him
out of his romantic musings. His eyes refocused, taking in their surroundings.
It surprised him to note the forest was beginning to thin noticeably. They
stopped, looked around and then at each other.