Shadows of Golstar (10 page)

“That sounds pretty promising, Boss.”

“Yeah, I agree. I think it’s worth a few extra days of
flight time to hear him out.” In light of Neven’s message, Owens thought the
Institute of Health could wait a few days before he made a final decision on
which assignment to take.

“Going back to your questions,” Hec began. “I finished
the damage assessment, and it was negligible. As I said before, they didn’t
even smudge the wax. In addition to the earlier damage, we did fry a shield
coupling relay. I rerouted the circuit to the first on-line spare. We still
have two hot back-ups ready and two cold ones in storage. All the breakers have
been reset, and the couplers have been swapped, tested and are holding within
specs. The shields are back to one hundred percent.”

Owens asked, “And the
Holmes’
flight status?”

“The ship’s guest quarters are reset to normal
configuration and the furnishings re-secured,” the AI promptly answered. “All
ship systems are in the green and the subspace condensers are fully charged. I
just finished plotting the new course for Denbus; it’s ready for your
concurrence. As soon as the docking collar completes its retraction cycle, we
should be prepared to go in approximately three minutes.”

“Great,” he rubbed his eyes and said in a
fatigue-roughened voice, “I’m really dead on my feet. I think it might be best
for you to remain in control. You have my okay for the new course. Lock-in the
ship’s primary heading and initiate our subspace drive at your discretion,”
Owens stretched, then turned and looked longingly at the oversized bed. He
yawned and continued, “Why don’t you wake me up in four, no, make that five
hours… that is, if no one else decides to ‘fold any more napkins.’ Oh, and one
more thing, that was fine work, Hec.  I’ll admit I had my doubts, but so
far you’ve more than earned your keep.”  

“Thanks,” Hec said. If the AI had a mouth, it would
have grinned.

The
Sherlock Holmes
arrived at Denbus at the
end of three ship days. Denbus was a small planet that had been developed
exclusively as the center for a number of important government agencies.
Security was tight. Private and commercial ships were not allowed to use the
planet’s spaceport facilities. Instead, ships were assigned parking orbits and
ferried to the planet’s surface in security-screened shuttles. 
  

Having achieved orbit at the designated set of
coordinates Neven had included in his message, Owens waited for the mandatory
in-ship inspection by Customs. It wasn’t long before Customs arrived. Owens was
surprised by the short interval between making orbit and the visit by the
inspectors. Normally, it wouldn’t be unusual to wait up to a full ship’s day
for an official to arrive. Neven must have some serious pull, Owens thought.

The inspection took only a half-hour and after Customs
left, Owens gave Hec some last-minute instructions before the transport shuttle
arrived. “Remember our deal, be careful when you access the public grid, and
don’t take any chances that could reveal your existence.”

“Hey, I can be discrete. Besides, how can I forget,”
Hec sniffed.  “I’m a cyber-personality. Thanks to my genius, I’m a highly
advanced computer-based entity. I won’t forget anything, unless I undertake a
memory wipe, so I can’t help but honor our deal; I mean this version of my life
depends
on remaining undetected.”

“Yeah, you’re right of course,” Owens said somewhat
sheepishly. “Look, I’m sorry for pointing out the obvious. I’m still edgy about
the attack, and these government planets trigger my natural paranoia. I take
back what I said, okay?”

“That’s okay, Boss. I have a small streak of paranoia
myself.”

“Anyway, you need to know the Customs inspection was
the only ship entry required by law. No one else is to enter the ship without a
warrant or my express permission. There’s always some administrator who wants
to show the boss that he’s a ‘take charge’ kind of guy and in his zeal to
exercise his authority will try to bully his way into a ship. And on this, I
speak from experience.”

“A couple of years ago on another planet, I had a
run-in with the Bureau of Ship Standards.” He grimaced. “I foolishly allowed an
official to come onboard to update a license waiver. He took the opportunity to
make an impromptu inspection and proceeded to levy seven citations for
unauthorized modifications. Later, in administrative court, I managed to prove
I had all the variance filings and permits, but not before spending a couple of
months trying to untangle a mound of red tape and spending a small fortune on
attorney fees.”

“They’ll have to go over my dead body to get in, well,
if I had one, that is,” Hec quipped. The AI then added, “The shuttle just
hailed. It has its own docking rig and will join with the
Holmes
secondary hatch in about two minutes.”

Owens was again surprised by the speedy arrival of the
shuttle, “That was quick. Neven must be pretty damned important and in a real
rush to meet with me.” His curiosity was now fully aroused. “Okay, you have the
ship. I don’t know how long this will take, but I’ll let you know if I have to
stay on-planet overnight.”  He turned and headed to the hatch that opened
into the ship’s secondary docking port.

The shuttle was a well-maintained, older Series C
model. Owens found a vacant seat and waited for the small red panel on his left
armrest to change. It faded to green, signaling the restraint system was
active.  A positive signal was successfully sent to the shuttle’s AI,
indicating it was now safe to proceed. The AI then gently disengaged from the
Holmes
and guided the shuttle on to two more orbiting ships for passenger pickups. 
With the last passenger secure in her seat, the shuttle made for planet-fall.
 

Thankfully, the trip down to the planet’s surface was
short.  On exiting the shuttle, Owens went through a body screen and security
interview. Having cleared the security check, he headed next for the exit to
the public transport boarding platform. He took two steps into the center and
was immediately intercepted by a squat, uniformed official, “Mr. Owens. My name
is Hamden Gant. I’m here to drive you to Commissioner Neven’s office at CPSC
headquarters. He thought it more expedient to provide for your transportation.
It’s about a half-hour drive from here.”    

Owens wasn’t surprised Gant had identified him. 
Loders were few in number and usually stood out from any crowd. With that brief
introduction, Gant turned and gestured for Owens to enter the opened door of a
late model ground transport. Its smooth gray side was marred only by the
prominent badge of a government logo embossed in black and silver. Before he
entered, he took a moment to breathe in the fresh air. The crisp air and a
clear blue sky was a refreshing change from Genhome’s musty atmosphere and the
ship’s recycled air.  

With a small sigh, he entered the vehicle. The
transport silently rose on its impeller field and accelerated away from the
shuttle port. Owens noted Gant had not engaged the vehicle’s AI. Gant drove
through a complex maze of busy streets unerringly, seldom needing to slow for
traffic. Looking out of the vehicle’s window as buildings slid past, Owens
found himself imagining what Hec’s caustic commentary would be if the AI were
driving instead of the stoic Gant.

Happily, it turned out Gant was right. The trip took
only thirty minutes. Passing through a number of security checkpoints, they
arrived at the CPSC Headquarters compound. The Headquarters building was a
multi-domed gray and salmon colored monstrosity, sprawling across what looked
to be about thirty acres. With Gant leading the way, it took another five
minutes to navigate the maze of corridors before approaching the final door
leading to Neven’s outer office. Gant opened the door for Owens to enter.

“I’ll leave you now,” Gant said.  “Commissioner
Neven is waiting in the second office. His assistant will announce you. I’ll
return at the end of your interview and escort you back to the transportation
hub.” 

Owens entered the well-lit office.  A heavy-set,
middle-aged man sitting at a desk cluttered with three computer terminal arrays
looked up and greeted him.  He rose from his chair and bowed slightly.
“Hello Mr. Owens, I’m Dillon Rawle, Commissioner Neven’s Executive Assistant.
Please go right in. You’re expected.”  He gestured to a featureless, faux
wooden door on his left. Nodding, Owens approached the auto door. It slid into
the casement with a slight whoosh, and he entered.    

A dark-haired man of slight build was sitting behind a
wide desk with a polarized terminal screen set flush in its surface for
security. He wore the standard-issue uniform of a typical government
bureaucrat, a two-piece black suit, and gray shirt with a white Nehru collar.
He had a small, narrow nose and sharp chin. He was staring intently at what
must have been a message scrolling across the screen. A small frown creased his
brow. At the sound of his office door closing, Commissioner Neven immediately
blanked the display and looked up with an easy, practiced smile dominating his
thin face.    

Neven stood and Owens saw that he was of medium
height. Reaching across the desk, he extended his hand, “Mr. Owens. I’m very
happy to meet you. I’m Ambort Neven, Commissioner of Inter-planet Relations of
Confederated Planets Security Corps.”

Owens returned Neven’s firm handshake and said, “Thank
you. I’m happy to be here… in one piece.”  

Neven nodded knowingly, “Yes; still, you made
excellent time, and I will confess time is of the essence in this particular
case. I want to thank you for coming so quickly.”

 “My practice is never to leave a prospective
client waiting.”

“A sound practice… Please, be seated.”

Owens sat down in a chair positioned squarely in front
of Neven’s expansive desk. It reminded him of a witness chair. “Well, I did
encounter a small delay…”

Neven actually arched an eyebrow, “Ah, you’re
referring to the recent incident; I understand you encountered some difficulty
out from Genhome. Pirates I believe? By your appearance, I take it you were
uninjured.  Did your ship fare as well? ”

Owens nodded and said, “Yes. As a matter of fact, it
did.” Neven must have received an official report from the SFA. Owens decided
to play along with the pirate theory. “Frankly, their ship wasn’t much of a
match for mine. I came through pretty much unscathed. Bad luck their engines
blew before I could get an identification of ship and crew,” Owens repeated the
misguided conclusion of the SFA agents.  

Neven seemed unconcerned and said somewhat
offhandedly, “Yes, it's too bad they perished. I would have preferred to have
them in custody. It might have led to more arrests. Nevertheless, it’s one less
hazard to worry our citizens. On behalf of Security Corps, I thank you for your
part in ending this particular threat.”  

“Unintentional, I assure you,” Owens responded.

Neven nodded with dismissal, “I quite understand.” He
moved to the matter at hand. “Yet in spite of your difficulties, you made
excellent time. Can I then assume that my message piqued your interest?”

Apparently, Neven was finished with small talk. Owens
smiled, “Well. My fees are considerable and an offer to triple them deserves at
least an interview. Plus, I do have to admit to being more than a little
curious. Your message didn’t include much information; it only referenced a
unique assignment with details to be provided on my arrival. So now that I’m
here, what, exactly, is the nature of this assignment? ”

Neven’s own smile faded, “To be honest; we’re not
quite sure. We’re acting as intermediaries in what is an admittedly unusual
request, a request for your investigative services. We don’t normally get
involved with this kind of thing, but this is a special case, a very special
case.”

“That’s interesting, so you’re not the actual client.”
Owens looked thoughtful, “So tell me, who
is
this mysterious client? Why are they going through a government agency instead
of contacting me directly? That doesn’t make much sense.”

Neven was obviously ready for Owens’ questions and
immediately answered, “I understand that you will find this most unusual, in
fact, I find it irregular myself, but I have strict instructions from the Under
Secretary. Before I can answer your questions, I must first ask you to read and
sign this.” He pushed a sheaf of hardcopy documents across the desk toward
Owens.  

Owens took the small stack of perma-plast sheets and
read the top page. He then looked up, his brow creasing with the beginning of a
frown. “This is a copy of a non-disclosure commitment under the Military
Secrecy Act.” Perplexed, he said, “I mean no disrespect Commissioner, but I’m
just asking who the client is, not for state secrets. How could be disclosing
the identity of this client warrant my signing this? Besides that, I’m not in
the military, nor…” Owens now grinned, “…do I plan on enlisting anytime soon.”

Nodding, Neven had expected Owens’ reaction, “I’ll
take the last part of your question first. Under certain special conditions,
the Act may apply to civilians attached to government agencies. To the first
part, the answer is very simple. It’s imperative the client’s identity is
protected both from their unique perspective and ours. At the risk of being
blunt, it simply comes down to this; if you don’t sign, then this discussion is
at an end, and I’m very sorry that you came all this way for nothing.”

Owens had not been prepared for Neven’s response. His
frown returned and deepened at the man’s brusque reply. Keeping an even tone,
he said, “First and foremost, you know very well I’m not attached to any
government agency and,” he added, “I’ve come all this way just to listen to you
refuse to answer a fundamental, but critical question. And all because of some
government need for secrecy? I have to admit I’m surprised by your
take-it-or-leave-it attitude. I mean, what’s the point? After all, you did send
for me.”

Neven nodded, “I quite understand and I ask you to
forgive my abrupt manner. Unfortunately, I find myself in a most difficult
position. I was unprepared for this, ah… situation. It came up quite
unexpectedly and by any standard you wish to apply, it is considered by those
in-charge to be extremely sensitive.”  

Neven cleared his throat. “As to your being attached
to a government agency, we are quite aware that you currently have no
affiliation with the Government. Fortunately, that’s covered by the second set
of documents before you. It’s a government contract between you and CPSC, with
you reporting directly to me, at least to all appearances,” he said tapping the
pile with a boney finger. “In actuality, should you take this assignment you
will find yourself to be quite on your own.”

Owens’ face now darkened. The man was speaking in
riddles, but before he could respond, Neven continued. “The contract is a
shortened version of the standard form for limited-term, professional
consultants. It’s just a means to allow for a signed commitment to ensure the
secrecy of your prospective client’s identity. I’m afraid that it’s necessary
for you to be bound by oath so as not to reveal the nature of the assignment,
including the identity of the client.”