Shadows of Golstar (59 page)

The Grand Patriarch reached the familiar door and
entered his personal quarters. The two guards took up station in the hallway on
either side of the threshold. He walked over and sat down at a great wooden
desk. He absently stroked the carved pattern on the chair’s arm as he
voice-recorded a message and sent it to Sharné’s personal communicator. In it,
he notified her that due to heightened security, she would be temporarily
confined to her suites. He went on to assure her it would only be for a short
while.

He touched a pressure pad beneath the desk and a
square opened on the desk’s writing surface, revealing a panel with numerous
buttons. He touched one and a voice from a hidden speaker immediately answered
his summons.

He instructed the head of his personal guard to locate
his daughter and if not in her quarters, escort her there directly. The Grand
Patriarch further instructed that guards should be posted at the entrance and
that no one would enter or exit her rooms without his express permission.

With that task completed, his thoughts returned to the
modifications necessary to his strategy. He must now act quickly. He pushed
back from the desk and considered his next move.

The woman dressed in a faded day-shift sat alone in a darkened
apartment. The blue-glow of an ancient, hardwired communications console
reflected harshly against the woman’s face, emphasizing the lines around her
mouth and eyes. Minister
Joselé
perched before a
battered terminal. She frowned at the flickering display and wondered if it
would function long enough for her to access the Preservers’ secure
communications gateway. Fearing its imminent failure, she tapped the code into
the worn touch-screen. She fidgeted impatiently as she waited for a response.

Finally, a prompt appeared on its marred surface and
she quickly keyed the current password. To her dismay, the screen blanked. She
was relieved when the display brightened once more with an image of crossed,
blazing swords, the symbol of the Preservers of the Way. She saw the urgent
message icon winking in the lower corner.
 
She accessed the icon and a message from the Leader appeared on the
display. Her brows knitted as she leaned toward the screen. It was difficult to
discern the words on the flickering monitor but not impossible. She slowly read
the message.

Brethren,

I bring you
important news. The Grand Patriarch’s agent of darkness has finally arrived. As
I write this, he is being conveyed, under heavy guard, to the palace. I need
not tell you the time has come to put an end to the Grand Patriarch’s madness.

Based on
recent information, I have taken it upon myself to develop a new strategy, one
that will ensure a final victory. I will share my stratagem with all
sub-leaders and their lieutenants at a mandatory gathering to be held tomorrow
at the old school building on Radiance Way, following the evening Service at
nine chimes. It is imperative that you attend so your roles can be affirmed.

Together, we
will once again be united in fulfilling the Founder’s vision. In His eternal
Light shall we be triumphant.

She reread the terse message. She straightened in her
chair and nodded to herself. The news was indeed important. The outsider was on
Berralton. A grim smile creased her features.

A man’s voice startled her, “Good news?”

She spun in her chair, her eyes searching for its
source in the room’s darkness. She saw a dark silhouette of a man and fear
embedded its icy talons into her breast. She started to turn back to the
terminal. She had to purge the message before it could be read by the intruder.
A hand suddenly grabbed her wrist with a vice-like grip. Someone else had
entered unnoticed. The man who had spoken began to walk towards her, the glow
from the terminal gradually illuminating him as he came nearer.

Her eyes widened in horrified recognition.

Owens sat wedged between two armed men. They were
traveling in a military transport as part of a five-vehicle convoy. The
transport’s shielded windows afforded a limited view of the countryside. Their
convoy encountered little traffic as it sped down the wide avenue. It was late
at night but a large moon and a smaller companion high in the sky provided a
surprising amount of light. Still, there had been little to see.

Since leaving the spaceport, all he could make out was
what looked to be sparse vegetation and dry looking expanses of earth. It was
quite dessert-like. But as they traveled on, the vegetation gradually grew
lusher and from time to time, an occasional building would flash by.

They had traveled some twenty minutes before he saw an
abrupt change in the scenery. The vegetation gave way to a now constant stream
of structures and pedestrian walkways; they reached the outskirts of a city. He
asked his companions its name. As he was coming to expect, they remained
silent, pointedly ignoring his question. 

He shrugged and resumed looking out at the planet
Berralton. The buildings grew in both size and density. Although it was late,
the number of pedestrians and vehicles on the street seemed unusually small.
The convoy continued to fly down the almost deserted streets, its speed
unabated. It took another hour of travel before the vehicles finally began to
slow. He saw they were approaching a huge, ornate complex of tall buildings.
Their architecture reminded him of an ancient 2-D graphic of old earth’s
Buckingham Palace, only these buildings were built to a much grander scale and
surrounded by a high wall.

They neared the wall and the transports slowed further
as they closed on the huge entrance. It had no gate, but looking through the
opening, he could make out the slight distortion caused by an active
force-field. He looked along the length of the wall and could see that it
like-wise had the telltale shimmer. They don’t seem to trust their own
citizens, he thought. The transports stopped. His vehicle’s doors opened and
one of his escorts got out and motioned Owens to follow.

He was led to a featureless block of a building
abutting the wall near the entrance. There were more guards in elaborate
uniforms standing at spaced intervals around the building. Twin doors slid into
their casements and Owens recognized that the interior appeared to be that of a
freight lift. Two more guards were waiting inside. Sure enough he was led into
the lift. His escort jabbed at a panel; the doors swished closed and a green
display began counting off levels. They traveled down ten levels before the
doors again opened.

They walked out onto a gray, tiled platform. He could
see they were in a small underground transit station. Adjacent to the platform,
a three-car tram, with its doors open, was resting on a single, shiny ribbon of
metal. Two of his original escorts exited the lift and looked back at him to
follow. The other two guards remained in the lift. His escorts then led him to
the nearest tram car and they entered, sitting down in plush, red
velvet-covered seats. He saw they were not alone; two more guards were already
sitting in adjacent seats. Without any overt signal, the tram began to move,
heading towards a tunnel lit with a dotted string of white lights.

The trip was short and not unlike other public
transports Owens taken on other assignments. He soon found himself on another
lift, elevating to fifty levels above street-level and then being hustled
through a cathedral-like throne room and into another smaller, connecting room.
The guards silently departed, shutting the solid doors behind them, leaving him
alone.

As he stood on thick carpeting, his eyes took in his
surroundings. The room was dominated by a long, massive wooden table. Its dark
smooth surface was inlaid with crystals, creating elaborate, baroque patterns.
The numerous leather-covered chairs positioned around the table were equally
massive. The room’s walls were paneled in gray, polished stone, each section
skillfully carved in bas relief. He noted that each carving was unique. One
depicted a number of space ships resting in a valley, while others portrayed
scenes of people farming, working construction and other common endeavors.
There was a long, wooden sideboard along one of the walls. On it was a silver
tray with decanters filled with amber and ruby hued liquids accompanied by two
crystal wine glasses.

He looked thoughtfully at the wine and wondered about
the way he had been treated since leaving Selane. So far, his clients had been
less than gracious hosts. What the hell, he thought, and helped himself to the
red wine. He took a tentative swallow and was pleasantly surprised. He pulled
one out chairs, sat down, took another appreciative sip and looked about the
room again.

To him, it resembled a boardroom, albeit one different
than he had ever encountered, but a boardroom nonetheless. Well, he smiled down
at his drink, there was plenty of wine to help wile away the time as he waited
for whatever would happen next.

As it was, he didn’t have long to wait. He had barely
finished half of his wine when the old fashioned wooden door swung open and a
tall man strode into the room. He caught the flash of uniformed guards before
the door closed. Owens immediately started to rise.

The man said, “Sit down, Janus Owens. I do not have
the time to waste on ceremony.” He then walked straight over to the sideboard
and poured a glass from the amber-filled decanter. Taking his drink, he went to
the head of the table and sat down. He took a generous sip and smiled as the
liquor warmed its way to his stomach. He was silent for a moment, seemingly
content to savor his drink.

 Owens
studied the man. He was tall, only about four inches shorter than Owens.
Silvering at the temples, his red hair was worn long, brushing his wide
shoulders. He wore a white robe, heavily patterned in silver and gold brocade.
Owens couldn’t discern the color of the eyes that were staring at him with
frank, equal interest. There was something vaguely familiar about the man.

“Now
that we have taken our measure of each other, we can move on to more important
matters. First, I will tell you that I am the leader of Golstar. My title is that
of ‘Grand Patriarch.’ You may address me simply as Patriarch. I alone am the
one responsible for you being here. If you have not been told, you are in
Golan, the capital city of Berralton and Golstar’s seat of government. This
edifice you now find yourself in is the capital palace named, Founder’s Stone.
It is here where our great forefather set the first keystone of the colony.”

Owens
dared to ask a question. “Patriarch, you are saying this is where the Founder
first landed?”

The
Grand Patriarch stared at Owens, seeming to weigh the question, “Actually, no.”
His smile was grim. “The colony fleet was held back while the Founder made the
preliminary incursion into this system. The first planet that he stood upon was
the planet he named after his wife, Selane. I believe you are somewhat familiar
with the planet.” Then he added, “But you already suspected that did you not?”

Before
Owens could comment, the Grand Patriarch went on, “As you can now imagine, it
holds a significant place in the hearts of our people.” He paused, and then
said, “However, I am sure our history is not in the forefront of your thoughts.
But, in order to explain the reason for you being here, some historical
background will be necessary.”

“Patriarch,
I admit I do have some questions,” Owens said. “But, from my professional
perspective, background information is always helpful to put things in their
proper context. Such information can only help in my investigation.” Whatever
it may be, he thought. “And frankly, I
am
curious about your history.”

The
Grand Patriarch nodded, then with a tinge of sadness said, “Unfortunately, what
I am about to tell you, will not be what you may have anticipated, nor, for
that matter, do I expect it to be to your liking.”

Here
it comes, Owens thought, perhaps he would finally hear the real reason for why
he was here. “At this point, any information that will help clear up the
mystery will be welcome,” he honestly replied.

The
Grand Patriarch smiled grimly, “We shall see.” He stood up and walked over to
one of the stone wall panels and touched its carving with a loving hand. He
dropped his arm and turned again toward Owens. He was about to speak when a
quiet chime began to toll. The Grand Patriarch frowned and sat back down in his
chair. He pressed a stud on the chair’s arm and the chimes halted.

“Why
have I been disturbed? I am now with Janus Owens. I seem to remember giving
standing orders that I was not to be interrupted until I sent word.”

The
voice of the captain of his personal guard responded from hidden speakers, “My
most sincere apologies, Your Luminance. A situation has arisen concerning your
daughter.”

The
Grand Patriarch looked surprised, “Indeed?” He looked over at Owens and said,
“I suspect this somehow concerns you.”

Owens
was puzzled by the Grand Patriarch’s words. How could he be involved? He had
never met the
Grand Patriarch
’s daughter. What could
possibly be her interest be in him? Perhaps, he thought, she was in some way
implicated in the assignment that the Grand Patriarch had in mind.

“Speak
openly,” the Grand Patriarch commanded. “What is this situation that has moved
you to violate my order?”

There
was a moment of silence before the voice spoke again. “One of the guards posted
at your daughter’s quarters called into the dispatch center. He reported… It…
it seemed that your daughter was not content to stay in her quarters and…”

“Captain,
I will not repeat myself again. Speak plainly and quickly.”

“Forgive
me, Your Luminance. The guard reported that his fellow officer was incapacitated
when he refused to allow your daughter egress into the hallway outside her
rooms. She produced some manner of weapon of which I am not familiar and shot
him with it. She was headed for your location, when she was intercepted by a
contingent of the guard. Before she could be constrained, she bought down two
more of my men.”

Rubbing
his chin, the Grand Patriarch seemed to be speaking to himself, “My, it seems
that she inherited some of her ancestors’ temper after all.” He seemed almost
amused. “How serious are the injuries?”

“Fortunately,
Your Eminence, they are not fatal.”

“Well
that is something, at least. Where is my daughter now?”

“She
is presently in the south wing communications annex, close to your location,
the reception rooms.”

The
Grand Patriarch was thoughtful. He said, “Escort her back to her rooms. Tell
her I will send for her in the morning, at eight chimes. She will join me along
with Janus Owens for a discussion regarding the recent events that have been
brought before me. I am sure that she will understand the context.”

“At
once Your Luminance.”

“Oh,
and Captain,” the Grand Patriarch’s voice was stern, “I want a full report of
this incident on my desk before this night’s Service, with a copy to the
Guardian of the Way. When your men have fully recovered, you will personally
bring them before me so that I may render a decision as to your punishments.”

With
no hint of emotion, the captain replied, “As you command, Your Luminance.”
There was a soft chime, signifying that the conversation had ended.

The
Grand Patriarch looked over at Owens, a small smile on his lips, “Janus Owens,
it seems I have again underestimated the consequences of bringing you to
Golstar.”

Having
just witnessed the puzzling exchange between the Grand Patriarch and his
captain of the guard, Owens had surmised the identity of the Grand Patriarch’s
daughter. Sharné had made unexpected use of the dispersal gun he had given her.
It was an interesting development. He sat there, wondering about the Grand
Patriarch’s cryptic comment about consequences.

The
Grand Patriarch said, “My daughter’s demonstration of her interest in you has
somewhat changed matters. Therefore, this audience is now at an end. We will
reconvene in the morning and continue our discussion then.” The Grand Patriarch
tapped the arm of a chair. The door opened and a uniformed guard entered. “You
will now be escorted to a suite of rooms for your rest and convenience. A
steward will provide anything you might require.”

Owens
decided on a small test. “Will I be allowed the freedom to tour your palace?”

The
Grand Patriarch shook his head regretfully, “I am afraid that, for the time
being, your movements must be limited. It is for your own protection.”

“I
understand,” Owens said simply.

The Grand
Patriarch looked at him shrewdly, “Yes. I believe you do at that.”