Shadows of Golstar (62 page)

So,
thought Owens, the Grand Patriarch still clung to the fiction he would have
bought the flimsy cover story had not the attack occurred. Owens leaned back in
the chair, carefully keeping his expression neutral.

The
Grand Patriarch waited for a moment, then seeing that Owens had nothing further
to say, said, “As a result of you now knowing of the existence of the alien
technology centers, you must also understand that were such knowledge to fall
into your government’s hands, the result could well trigger a war, an extremely
costly war. And I admit to you here that at this point in time, were that to
happen, it would be a war in which Golstar might not prevail in the end.”

He
looked hard at Owens, his voice firm. “So, by keeping you here, we ensure there
will be sufficient time for us to recover our lost heritage. Without the
knowledge you have gained, your government will never be apprised of our
transitory… diminishment, at least in time to do anything about it.”

Owens
remained silent. The Grand Patriarch raised his eyebrows. “But you are not the
least bit surprised by my mention of Golstar’s temporary difficulties.” It was
a statement, not a question.

“No,
at least not for some time,” he responded. “It just confirms what I’d surmised
after the
Light Saber
had been destroyed. It was fairly easy to figure
out it was never foreseen that I would discover the poor state of the
Saber
.
Although Sharné tried to explain it away, the ship’s conventional design and
sad condition didn’t jibe with what I was briefed on about your technological
superiority. I would have expected something like the single, invulnerable ship
you sent into Confederated Planets centuries back. Where was the understated
arrogance of the small, unescorted ship that struck fear into the heart of my
government? No, something was very wrong with the picture I was presented. So I
can understand, if not accept, the reason you wouldn’t want what I’ve seen
spread around, especially to my government… perhaps even your own people.”

The
Grand Patriarch asked, “And what else do think you’ve uncovered?”

Owens
shrugged, “Nothing definitive, only that you are not what you were. Something
serious has happened to Golstar since that first encounter three hundred years
ago, exactly what it might be, I don’t know.”

The
Grand Patriarch was surprised, surprised at Owens’ insight and frank reply.
Owens refused to be intimidated either by being in the presence of a powerful
ruler or of his own uncertain circumstances. He spoke with the candor of
addressing an equal. The Grand Patriarch was mildly intrigued by the continued
expressions of willfulness by the capable private investigator.

Owens’
voice then took on a slight edge. “Even though the knowledge I have gained is
damaging to Golstar, and explains your reasons for my imprisonment, don’t think
I will sit back and passively accept my situation.”

The
Grand Patriarch leaned forward slightly, his own voice hardening, matching
Owens’ tone, “Unfortunately, you do not have a choice in the matter.”

Owens’
expression darkened.

Sharné
watched the two men suddenly glower at each other. It was easy to imagine them
as predators, circling each other, looking for a weakness. The tableau remained
unchanged, the silence stretching until she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
The Grand Patriarch’s attention was momentarily drawn to her and the spell was
broken.

He
turned back to Owens; his voice lost much of its heat. “Still, I believe there
are other things you
will
find surprising.”

“Perhaps,”
Owens replied. “The trip out to Golstar was a genuine rollercoaster ride, and
I’ve learned a hell of a lot, yet you’ve still managed to keep me in the dark
as to exactly why I was summoned here. While I have been able to unearth a few
clues, the greater mystery remains; the puzzle remains unsolved.”

Glancing
at Sharné again, the Grand Patriarch said, “But with your recent adventures
with my daughter and by your own words, you have pieced together a fair number
of pieces to that puzzle.”

“A
few unconnected pieces perhaps,” Owens guardedly agreed. “I do think I know a
little of the basis for your society and have some indication as to the state
of your military technology. But there are a lot of gaping holes. I have seen a
little of the ‘what,’ but none of the ‘why.’” 

“Well
then, I suppose it is time to tell you why you were chosen and in particular,
what we expect of you.”

“Father…”
Sharné began.

The
Grand Patriarch slowly turned to her, his voice becoming imperious. “You do not
have my permission to speak, Daughter. Until I grant that permission, you will
listen, nothing more. This is my one and only warning. Disobey, and I will have
you returned to your rooms.”

Owens
watched Sharné, now white-faced, clamp her mouth into a thin line. He noted the
familiar smoldering resentment in her eyes and could almost feel the heat of
her repressed anger.

The
Grand Patriarch turned back to Owens. “You were brought here for a very important
purpose and only when that purpose is fulfilled, will your future on Berralton
be ultimately determined.”

Owens
knew a lie when he heard one; the Grand Patriarch already planned his fate.

The
Grand Patriarch’s voice lowered, “And now for the true reason you are here.”

Unconsciously,
Owens leaned forward in his chair.

“You
are the only one who can save Golstar, Golstar’s civilization, its people, and
their future.”

Owens
wasn’t anticipating the Grand Patriarch’s pompous declaration. Caught unawares,
he couldn’t help but smile, almost chuckling, he said, “I don’t know what I was
expecting to hear, but Janis Owens, savior of civilization, wasn’t at the top
of my list.”

The
Grand Patriarch shook his head and with a smile of his own said, “Oh, it is not
through any act or deed that you will save Golstar, but rather by
what
you are.”

Still
puzzled, he repeated, “By what I am?”

“Yes,”
Grand Patriarch nodded. “You were selected because of your extraordinarily
unique genetic profile. For that reason and that reason alone, you were
selected. Our search was quite extensive. Indeed, out of nearly a trillion of
profiled human beings, you are the only near perfect genetic match that could
be found.”

“So I
was sent here because of that only… my genetic code?”

The Grand
Patriarch answered, “In a word, yes.”

Owens
waited for a further explanation, but Grand Patriarch did not elaborate.
Frustrated, Owens said, “I still don’t get it. You say I’m a match to someone’s
genetic profile, but you continue to hedge. I’m still not hearing the
explanation for why I’m here.”

The
Grand Patriarch ignored Owens’ agitation. In a voice that took on a tone close
to reverence, he said, “You are virtually a perfect match to a very special
genetic template.”

“So
you keep telling me,” Owens interrupted. He now had a very good idea whose
pattern he matched. “Damn it, for what purpose?”

“You
will reestablish a lost link to the past. Through you, the critical key shall
be re-cast and what was lost will be regained.”

Owens
was getting real tired of these oblique references. He was past frustration; he
fought an urge to grab the Patriarch and beat a straight answer out of him.

The
Grand Patriarch did not seem to notice Owens’ annoyed expression. He stood abruptly
and began to pace back and forth, his face becoming animated, excited. His eyes
stared off into some imagined vista, and as if talking to himself, he said,
“Yes, you are part of the final solution,
my
solution. The Founder’s
gifts will be returned and my vision will be vindicated, my leadership lauded…
I will forever be regarded as one who led our people back into the Light.”

A
growing feeling of unease displaced Owens simmering anger as he watched the
Grand Patriarch’s sudden shift in behavior. He watched warily as the leader
continued to pace, his agitation barely contained. Still, Owens needed answers
and he carefully asked, “Please, tell me this at least... whose template is it
you believe that I match?”

As if
waiting all along for that very question, the Grand Patriarch immediately
stopped. He redirected his gaze, focusing on Owens, and said in a calmer voice,
“Why our Blessed Founder, of course, The Light, the magnificent prophet who
created our great civilization.”

The
Grand Patriarch’s revelation was as Owens had expected, a connection was made
in his mind and another piece of the puzzle slipped into place. He smoothed his
expression as he played back the Grand Patriarch’s words, matching them to what
he knew. “I see,” he said finally. “Assuming what you say is true, that my
genetic make-up is a match to your Founder’s, I’m afraid I still I don’t see
how that will help your people.”

The
Grand Patriarch fully regained his controlled demeanor. Holding up a hand, he
said, “Have patience, you will be told in due time. However, first some
additional security precautions must be taken.” His eyes went from Owens to
Sharné then back to Owens. “The answer is involved and requires that I reveal
information that is known only to a select and privileged few.” He looked to
the two guards and without a word, they exited the room.

He
then looked at Owens. “Even without the guards, there are protections in place
that will prevent any attempt, on your part, to escape, or…” he added, “inflict
injury to me or my daughter.”

Owens
acknowledged the warning with a curt nod.

Satisfied,
the Grand Patriarch turned and stared intently at a spot on the wall to the
right of the mantel. In a clear voice, he said, “Protocol, Patriarch, code one,
nine, seven, six, six, six, eight, voice match initiated.”

A
soft, sexless voice answered, “Confirmed. Please complete the code sequence.”

“The
Founder’s Light will banish the night, and the blinding beacon of his glory
shall pierce the hearts of our foes,” the Grand Patriarch answered.
Immediately, a small rectangular outline appeared on the wall next to the
mantel. It opened to reveal a mirrored panel. The Grand Patriarch positioned
his right eye in front of the panel. A moment later the voice said, “Retinal scan
confirmed. What is your order?”

“Secure
the room.”

Panels
immediately dropped from concealed recesses to cover the windows and doors.
Then a uniform telltale shimmer appeared, shading the walls and ceiling; a
force-field was erected around the room’s perimeter.

Owens
looked at Sharné and saw her bewildered expression. Obviously, this was
unexpected to her as well.   

“The
room is now secure,” the voice announced. Then the voice once again asked,
“Order?”

“Open
the entrance to Founder’s Sanctum.”

The
voice responded, “The secondary entrance is now accessible.” A portion of the
force-field parted, and a large panel had started to swing inward even before
the voice had finished. It first appeared as a door-sized, black rectangle. A
moment later, white light flickered to life, illuminating the entrance to what
looked to be a flight of descending stairs.

The
voice asked, “Order?”

“Maintain
the present security level; no entry is to be allowed without my express
permission. I have no further orders at this time.” The Grand Patriarch nodded
as if to himself, then said to Owens, “I believe the proper surroundings will
aid your understanding of what I am about to tell you. Follow me.” He turned,
entered the stairwell and began to descend.

Owens
and Sharné followed the Grand Patriarch down a short flight of steps. The
bottom of the stairwell led to a corridor. At its end, it opened into a barren
room. The Grand Patriarch led them to the center of the room where the soft
lighting revealed a large, mosaic design inset into the floor’s surface. It was
a stylized picture of a sun, complete with a corona of over-sized flames
encircling the bright yellow tiled orb.

“Stand
with me in the center,” the Grand Patriarch commanded. Owens and Sharné stepped
inside the circle of the sun. Then the Grand Patriarch announced, “We are ready
for conveyance.”

Owens
was startled with the instantaneous change in their surroundings. It was the
same experience he had had on Selane when the Controller had transported him
and Sharné back to the planet’s surface. There was no sense of transition.

He
looked around their new surroundings and saw that they were now in a much, much
larger, circular room with a high-domed ceiling. To Owens, it felt like a
sports arena. They were standing off to the side, facing near one of the
numerous, regularly spaced openings in the wall. Owens glanced about the
soft-lit room. He detected movement out of the corner of his eye and quickly
turned toward the center of the room.

The
Grand Patriarch had watched Owens spin around and said, “It appears familiar to
you, does it?”

Owen
stared at a large object. He was fascinated by its ceaseless movement. Complex,
geometric shapes rotated and turned, rods pushed and pulled, levers pivoted
back and forth, combining to create dizzying reflections and flashes of light.
It seemed to shrink, then swell, making it seem like a great tethered creature,
heaving to break free of its bonds. Yet with all the object’s frantic activity
it made no sound that Owens could discern. He recognized it immediately. It
mirrored Sharn
é
’s description of the Founder’s Shrine
on Selane. It was a Messenger.