Shadows of Golstar (13 page)

After reading the message from Golstar, and following
the long ensuing discussion, Owens finally sat back in his chair and looked
across at Neven. “So, you’re telling me that you honestly have no idea what’s
behind this?”

Neven shook his head, “No, only speculation.”

Owens looked up distractedly at the ceiling. “Three
hundred years ago we tried to make contact, and in response, they pushed our
face in the mud. Absolute silence since the warning and now after centuries
they want to hire a private investigator. On top of it all, they name me in
particular. Now what the hell is that?” His gaze returned to Neven. “You
mentioned speculation. So, you at least have a theory?”

Neven smiled ruefully, “Oh, we have many theories, but
nothing based on anything factual. Remember, we’ve received no new data since
the second expedition’s fatal encounter.”  

“Care to share one with me?”

Neven ran a hand through his hair. “Well, one hopeful
theory is that this is a not-so-subtle way of beginning a dialog, eventually
leading to some sort of formal relations.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.”

Neven grew grim, “Unfortunately, there is another less
optimistic one... a theory that it’s a ploy to evaluate a representative of
Confederated Planets’ citizenry, as a prelude to some unknown and perhaps a
more sinister undertaking.”

“You were right,” Owens said. “It is pure
speculation.”

Neven sighed. “Let’s face it; we really don’t have
anything to work on here. Of course, there’s always the quaint notion that not
having any of their own, they need a PI and simply chose you at random out of a
directory.”

Owens smirked, “Right, and there
is
a Santa Claus.”

“In any case, I think it’s safe to say it creates a
unique opportunity, one that will finally allow us a glimpse of what’s going on
behind the quarantine’s border.” He had the audacity to grin, “You, my friend,
are destined to make history. You’re going to be the first Confederated Planets
representative to set foot on one of the Golstar planets. Think of the stories
you can tell your grandchildren. Of course, that is if you get back and in one
piece. And believe me; we’re going to do all in our power to see that you do.”

“Gee, I feel safer already.”

Neven ignored Owens’ jibe and looked pointedly at the
time display on the far wall. “Your briefings will commence tomorrow morning,
promptly at 8:00 AM, planet time. We’ve been talking for hours, and it’s
growing late; I suggest you now get back up to your ship.”

Rising to leave, Owens asked, “The briefings, how long
will they take?”

Neven’s grin grew wider, “About three weeks, long
enough for intelligence briefings, medical exams and a little weaponry training.”

Owens paused at the door, “What weaponry training?”

“Well, we’re going to upgrade your ship’s weapons,
engines and add auxiliary pods for additional supplies and provisions. I must
say it appears your ship’s already impressively equipped, at least for a
private citizen.  However, our planners thought you should have all the
advantages available, including the latest in military technology. Furthermore,
since it will take over three ship-months to reach Golstar, you’ll need the
extra space for food, munitions and a med-unit the added pods will provide. Oh,
and as a bonus, you’ll get to keep all the upgrades upon your successful
return.”

Owens felt a twinge of anger. “If I hadn’t asked, just
when were you planning to tell about upgrading my ship... when the workers
actually arrived at my airlock?” Owens had another thought. “And won’t the
weapons send the wrong message and only aggravate Golstar?” Owens asked
sharply.

Neven shrugged, “A message is already waiting on your
terminal with the particulars on the modifications. As to sending the wrong
message, no, we don’t believe so. Golstar was so far ahead of us in military
technology three centuries ago, it’s highly likely they’ve maintained their
weapons’ superiority since. Our technology is beneath their notice. Besides,
the weapons aren’t to defend you from Golstar. We want to minimize the chance
any pirates or ex-cons might be more successful in attacking you the next time.
You now know there will be a hell of a lot depending on you, so your safety is
critical.”

“Yeah,” Owens agreed, “But not by my choice.”

Neven ignored Owens’ gripe. “Now go on back to your
ship and remember to disable the security system before you leave tomorrow
morning.  Bring what you need for a planet-side stay of about three or four
weeks. The maintenance and engineering crews will need time for your ship’s
retro-fits. Do you have any more questions?”

Owens had a troubling thought, “You plan any mods to
the AI?”

Neven raised an eyebrow then looked at the display
inset to his desk and typed a query on the flat-membrane keyboard. A moment
later he looked up. “No, the work order indicates all the AI-control
modifications will be to the outboard control modules and hardwired memory
stacks, whatever
they
are.”  He shrugged, “The crew won’t touch the
AI module. A notation shows here you have a declassified class 6 military AI
that was upgraded three years ago. It should still be up to current specs. Is
there a problem?”

Owens shrugged and in what he hoped sounded as
nonchalant, said, “No, just curious. It looks then like that’s about the only
thing that won’t be modified.”

“You’re right about that,” Neven said. “And before I
forget, your accommodations are already reserved. They’re in the diplomatic
wing of the Wausau government residence building. It’s right across the street
from this one. In the morning, a driver will again pick you up from the shuttle
terminal and drop you off there.
 
After
you check in, come over to this building to the security office just inside the
main entrance to receive your ID. Someone will then take you to your first
briefing. That information is also waiting on your terminal. Now go to your
ship and get some rest. The real work will start tomorrow and since you’re
going to be busy, I won’t see you again until after the briefings.”

Owens was dismissed. Neither man moved to shake hands.
Owens simply nodded and exited the office. Neven’s Executive Assistant remained
at his desk working at one of the terminals. He looked up and smiled, “Good
luck, Mr. Owens.”

Gant was waiting for Owens at the door. Owens followed
him back through the labyrinth of corridors and lifts. On the return trip to
the terminal, Owens was lost in thought. He was both angry and elated at the
same time.  His choice, and to a great degree, his freedom had been taken
away. Had the bureaucrats not shrouded the content of Golstar’s request in
secrecy, he probably would have jumped at the chance to penetrate the veil of
concealment surrounding the legend. He would even have willingly accepted the temporary
government contract. Instead, they threatened him and his family, leaving him
with no other option but to accept Neven’s conditions. Pay-back is a cold
bitch, Owens thought, and he couldn’t wait to introduce her to Neven and his
cronies when the time came.

Gant remained silent until they arrived back at the
shuttle terminal. Smoothly pulling up to the entrance, he announced they had
arrived, rousing Owens from his reverie. An outbound shuttle was waiting on the
pad, and Owens lost no time in boarding.  His ship was first in the queue
for passenger delivery, so the trip back was shorter than the trip to
planet-side. As he entered
Holmes’
inner airlock, he was immediately
greeted by Hec.

“Welcome back Boss. We got a new job?”

“It’s good to be back and yes, you could say we have a
new job.” For the next hour, Owens described what took place in Neven’s office.
Owens finally finished and Hec remained silent. After a few minutes, Owens
asked, “Well, don’t you have anything to say?”

 “Sorry Boss, I didn’t think you expected a
response. I’m just an AI,” Hec answered.

“What, are you playing the AI card again? I guess we
need to get a couple of things straight.” Owens sighed and began ticking off on
his fingers, “First, we both know you’re more than just an AI. Second, you
earned my respect on the way you handled that attack. Third, AI or not, you are
Hec or at least a reasonable facsimile of him; and as such, you have
experiences and talents that could come in handy.”

 “If I had a face, I’d be blushing,” Hec said.
“Well, as for my reaction, I don’t know as I would put any trust whatsoever in
a government that would use blackmail to coerce me into their service. Their
need for secrecy in order to cover-up their bungling over three hundred years
ago says a lot about their integrity today. Hah, they don’t have any. I’d watch
your back if I were you, in fact, I’ll watch it for you.”

“My thoughts too…” Owens paused for a beat, “And now
for the rest of the news.”

“There’s more?” Hec asked.

Owens told Hec of the ship modifications that were to
be started the following day, finishing with a description of his exchange with
Neven related to the ship’s AI. “Is there going to be a problem with a bunch of
techs swarming about the ship with you onboard?”

“If they were to come aboard right now, yes,” Hec
answered. “Since they know about your type 6 military AI, they obviously have
the serial number. They’re likely to look at my housing during their work
to verify that I am indeed a current model that doesn’t require modification.
If they do, they’ll immediately notice a serial number mismatch and from the
length of the number and sequence, that I’m not a military class AI, but not to
worry, if you’re willing to give up a few hours of sleep, we can switch the
case plates that have the serial numbers.”  

“Hey, I thought that couldn’t be done.” Owens said,
“Aren’t there tamper-proof seals and interface links on those plates?”

“Ah, my experiences and talents are indeed going to
come in handy,” Hec chuckled. “Now you just listen to ol’ Hec, and we’ll have
those serial numbers swapped in no time.”

Hec made good on his boast. After listening to Hec, it
only took Owens an hour to complete the serial number switch. At Hec’s further
direction, Owens then removed the military AI from the ship’s standby cradle,
now with the civilian serial number, and placed it in the Rialto. This would
lend credence to the AI being part of the vehicle’s operating interface. Plus,
the Rialto’s security code for reactivation could not easily be broken if
someone was overly curious.

He asked Hec about the possibility of being removed
from the ship’s control receptacle during the upgrades. He was concerned about
the limited standby power resulting from Hec’s modification to the AI module.
Hec responded that the AI interface modification, indicated in the work order,
would be a straight-forward upgrade to software, limited to the
Holmes
translation module connected to the AI’s primary interface. The hardware
connectors themselves were a standardized configuration on the interface
housing and would not require any physical changes.

Then Owens checked with Hec to assure himself the AI
was prepared to imitate a Military AI. This would be crucial when it became
necessary for any final AI-interface testing the techs considered essential in
order to complete the retrofit. Receiving that assurance from Hec, Owens felt
reasonably sure the charade would be successful. With that assurance, he
retired for the night.

● ● ●

Owens rose the next morning, surprised he had slept so
soundly. He checked with Hec to see if anything had changed since they last
spoke. Hec conveyed optimism that their preparations were more than sufficient
to conceal the AI’s true nature.  He hoped the AI was correct. In any
case, he knew they had run out of time to do anything else.

Owens quickly showered and completed his morning
toiletries. He then threw some clothing into a travel case and headed for the
airlock. Hec had already signaled for a shuttle pick-up. The last thing he
heard Hec say before he entered the inner lock was, “Oh boy, new toys. I can’t
wait.” Smiling to himself, Owens entered the waiting shuttle for his trip back
down to the planet’s surface.

At the terminal, a different driver greeted him whose
name he immediately forgot on entering the vehicle. The trip back to the
government complex had now become routine and Owens felt restless. He was
anxious get on with the first briefing. After the thirty-minute trip, he was
again at CPSC Headquarters. This time he was dropped off in front of the
residence building opposite the Headquarters complex, without an escort.

He walked through a security scan station, received a
green light and entered an expansive, vaulted lobby. He headed directly for
what looked to be a registration counter to his right. Tall columns rose from
the floor without a visible joint, tapering into points touching the high
ceiling. To Owens, they resembled great stalagmites, and he wondered whether it
was the architect’s deliberate attempt to make the lobby appear cavern-like. A
few security types lounged on chairs and couches, pretending to be reading or
waiting to meet someone. One woman, dressed as an official, hurried across the
marble floor on some errand.