Shadows of Golstar (66 page)

His
thoughts turned to the cloned version of himself and felt his gorge rise at the
thought of his duplicate, or any other helpless embryo, slowly developing in
one of those soulless cylinders.

Hec
waited. The
Sherlock Holmes
remained solidly attached to the Golstar
ship. Using minimal passive scanning, the AI had determined only a skeleton
crew remained on the other ship. For two ship-days, the
Holmes
had been
locked onto the side of the Golstar ship in high orbit around the planet. Hec
was isolated from all direct, incoming communications. He had no way of knowing
Owens’ situation and didn’t dare shut down for fear Owens might try to contact
him.

In
the ensuing hours, Hec broke the tedium by tapping into the planet’s local
media broadcasts. Surprisingly, it took a while. Even the mundane entertainment
channels were encrypted. Hec marveled at such paranoia. The citizens of
Berralton certainly took the concept of secrecy to a whole new level. Hec
wouldn’t have been surprised if they encrypted their grocery lists as well.

Eventually,
Hec broke the key code sequencing. The public channels were then open to him.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before the AI concluded the public media wasn’t
much an improvement over the isolation. Hec surmised Berralton’s ideas of
entertainment were solely comprised of historical dramas, classic symphonies,
propaganda-steeped newscasts and pious religious programming. In ten hours of
monitoring the airways, Hec had yet to hear a single curse word or sexual
innuendo. Damn boring stuff, the AI thought.

Hec
set up his monitoring program to scan all frequencies and incorporated all
known analog transmission formats as well as digital. The military and
governmental traffic took up quite a bit of the available spectrum, and out of
sheer boredom, Hec had set up separate decryption programs to break their more
sophisticated, ever-changing cipher codes. However, finally, after successfully
translating a few of the encrypted communications, Hec decided the government
and military messages were even more boring than the public programming and now
only sampled the traffic from time to time.

As
Hec was contemplating another chess game with himself, multiple ship alarms
suddenly went off. Telemetry indicated that someone had bypassed the airlock
alarms and entered the ship. How? No one should have been able to enter the
Holmes
without first triggering the airlock entry alarms. Hec also armed the internal
motion sensors in addition to the airlock alarms as a supplementary precaution.
Those were the alarms that had been activated. There were no indications an
airlock had been breached, yet an anomaly was detected in the central corridor.
Something was in the corridor that had not been there a moment before.

Hec
immediately scanned for life-forms and was surprised when none were detected.
Other sensors registered an initial energy spike, then nothing. Hec initiated a
diagnostic of the alarm system and sensors but could find no obvious
malfunction. There was the alarm and now nothing.

Hec
then decided on a visual scan and activated the
Holmes’
internal cameras
and received a shock. From various viewing angles, they revealed a glowing ball
floating in the center of the central corridor. Hec trained all the ship’s
internal sensors on the orb. The scan results were all negative. It was as if
the artifact didn’t exist.

As
Hec considered what to do next, the communications monitor clamored for
attention. It was reporting that an urgent message was being received. The
signal was originating from inside the
Holmes
, the central corridor to
be exact. The orb was beginning to transmit a language-based data stream.

● ● ●

Owens
was back in his rooms, sitting in a large upholstered chair in the comfortable
living area, off the huge bedroom, and had been for the last hour. He fingered
the outline of the strap on his gravity harness. He had put it on before
exiting the
Holmes
for the short trip down to Berralton. During his time
on the planet, no one mentioned the device. He absently rubbed the slightly
raised surface through the fabric of his shirt and thought back on the last few
minutes of his discussion with the Grand Patriarch.

Owens
had asked, suspecting the answer, “What exactly did you mean, when you said that
you won’t have to wait for the cloning?”

“We
have waited for a very long time to regain access to the Controllers. But now
that you are here permanently, with no possibility of leaving, there is no
reason why you cannot provide your part of the key, at least for the time
being. Therefore, I have decided that tomorrow morning, together, you and I
will reopen the gateway to the Trah-tang technologies as the first step in
resurrecting Golstar’s destiny. You will be the instrument of our people’s
return to the Way.”

Once
again, the Grand Patriarch’s manner changed, and he shook his fist in unabashed
exultation. “The Founder’s vision shall soon be resurrected.” A crazed kind of
excitement had been kindled in his voice and a broad smile flashed on his face.
“With your DNA and His guidance, our people will regain their footing on the
righteous Path to the Light! You have been accorded a great and wonderful
privilege, Janus Owens. You will be allowed to witness our return to the
Founder’s grand plan!”

Owens
listened to the growing fervor in the Grand Patriarch’s strident voice. As
Golstar’s leader talked, the intensity with which he spoke increased, his
gestures grew more animated and his voice began to quaver with barely
suppressed emotion. But the most striking aspect of the Grand Patriarch’s
diatribe was his eyes. They were now directed at him. They burned into Owens
and he could not look away from the Ruler’s intense, demanding gaze. He could
almost feel the heat radiating from that maniacal glare. He had seen that look
before, when he was still a cop. He remembered different words, but they were
derived from the same the potent fuel… of psychosis.

The
Grand Patriarch seemed to be on the verge of losing control and Owens knew
better than to interrupt. But he tensed, not knowing what might come next.
Fortunately, his silence was rewarded as the Grand Patriarch slowly regained
his composure. His voice gradually lost much its strident tone; the fire in his
eyes subsided. Owens relaxed a little, but knew the madness was still there,
held barely in check, lurking behind the Grand Patriarch’s softening demeanor.

He
had looked over at Sharné, meaning to catch her eye. He wanted to give her a
sign that the display of outrage he had exhibited towards her was simply an act.
But her face was still averted away from him. So he waited. He couldn’t discern
any reaction to her father’s recent words or in the near lunatic manner of
their delivery. She shifted slightly, seeming to feel his gaze upon her. He
looked at her for a moment longer, hoping that she would turn toward him.
However, she did not, so he reluctantly returned his attention back to the
Grand Patriarch.

The
leader seemed to have fully regained his composure. He said a few more words,
stressing the importance of Owens’ contribution. He failed to mention the fact
that it was quite involuntary on Owens’ part. When it seemed that the Grand
Patriarch oration had come to an end, Sharné, in a subdued voice, asked her
father for a private audience when they returned to the receiving room. The
Grand Patriarch’s mood had obviously improved and he graciously agreed. He then
led them back to the upper levels of the palace. Sharné made no attempt to look
at or speak with Owens again before the guards arrived to escort him to his
‘guest’ quarters.

He
was roused from his reverie by a knock on the door. Unbidden, his thoughts
turned to Sharné. Was it her outside the door? Since being returned to his
quarters, he had been trying to avoid thinking about her beyond their recent
audience with the Grand Patriarch, but had failed miserably. He knew he should
be angry with her, but he wasn’t. She was after all, a product of her
civilization. Her father was its leader. Her loyalties and actions were
understandable, though flawed in logic, but at least understandable. Of course,
her father was another matter entirely.

The
knock on the door broke his concentration and his thoughts were drawn back to
their few stolen moments of intimacy. In spite of everything, he still believed
her feelings for him were real and far from hating her, he remained helplessly
enamored of her. With the tentative knock, his expectations rose. He could
almost smell the fragrance of her hair and feel her sweet, pliant lips on his.
“Come in,” he called.

The door
opened and a steward swiftly entered, pushing a cart. He felt a wave of disappointment.
Then he found himself reconsidering… if it had been her, what could he possibly
say? For that matter, what would
she
say? Talk about the ultimate of
awkward situations, he thought. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing it hadn’t been
Sharné at his door. With all that had been revealed, it would probably be
better to consider how he might approach her, provided, of course, he was ever
given another opportunity to do so.

The smell
of food momentarily distracted him and he was surprised, that in spite of
everything, he was actually hungry. The steward removed the covers from plates
heavily laden with food, and without a word, left. Owens watched her retreating
back and idly wondered if they were all mute. The door closed solidly. He
sighed and drew the tray in front of him. He said softly, “And the condemned
man ate a hearty meal…” 

He
had barely started to eat when the illumination in the room momentarily dimmed
then immediately returned to its original brightness. His wrist-comp began to
softly chime for his attention, startling him. He had completely forgotten
about it. His guards had not taken it away when he first arrived nor had the
guards at the Receiving Room given it any notice. He had automatically put it
on that morning after dressing. Looking back, he remembered the Grand Patriarch
had taken no note of it either.

As he
moved to activate it, he thought he must have been right, that in their
arrogance, they assumed it would do no harm for him to keep it. After all, what
use could it possibly be? He needed no compass or computer. Any personal logs
were likely to be confiscated and he wasn’t in the mood for reading, games or
music at the moment. Of course, he might want to play a holo-movie if the tiny
projector array still worked. And he couldn’t forget it was good for contacting
his ship, which now was very likely impounded. However, he had no doubt that
any attempt to contact his ship would be blocked. The small device was probably
malfunctioning. Then, a darker thought intruded. Would they simply destroy his
ship? They could be using the
Holmes
for target practice at this very
moment.

“Boss?”

“Hec?”

“You
okay, Boss?”

“Yeah,
I’m okay, Hec. But I’m surprised that your signal wasn’t blocked. I’m glad to
hear your voice but why are you contacting me? What’s your status?”

“The
Holmes
is still attached to the Golstar ship. The last crew members left a half-hour
ago. It looks like it’s on automatic station-keeping. We’ve been moth-balled,
at least temporarily.”

Owens
asked, “Any chance of escaping?”

“No,
at least not by conventional means,” Hec answered. “A crew member sent a
message just before they departed. The Golstar ship is rigged to blow if any
stress is registered in the docking rig.”

“That’s
too bad. But listen, you have to know that even though you got through, this
transmission is likely being monitored; my room is also bugged.”

“Don’t
worry; it’s all been taken care of.”

“Taken
care of?” He remembered the momentary dimming of the lights, “How?”

“This
transmission is completely shielded. Plus, the video and sound monitors in your
rooms have been preempted. As we speak, your doppelganger is enjoying a hearty
meal.

“Just
how did you manage that? I know that you have a fairly extensive, technical
background, but I don’t remember any equipment on the ship that could be used
to override a planetary surveillance system.”

“Well,
I did have a little help,” Hec replied.

Owens’
mind flashed again to Sharné. Had she contacted Hec?

“It
was the Controllers that provided the help. Actually, they did all the work.”

That
was the last thing that Owens expected to hear. He paused at this unexpected announcement.
“Now why would they help me? I thought they were limited under the Compact.”

“Well
that’s the thing. We had quite a conversation. The Compact restricts access to
their resources only to those humans with the correct DNA and security code.
But technically, I’m not a human, so...”

“I
see, but why…” Owens paused, “Hec you’d better start from the beginning and
tell me everything that’s happened.”

● ● ●

They
were seated in the small library adjacent to the Grand Patriarch’s bedchamber.
Books in tall, glass-faced barrister cabinets lined the walls, protected old,
leather-bound books. Sharné glanced up at the worn spines and remembered
borrowing some of those ancient tomes when she was younger. Sadly, her duties
took up much of her time and she no longer had the luxury of reading for mere
pleasure.