Shadows of Golstar (23 page)

Owens shrugged. At this point, he really didn’t give a
damn what they did to him.

Then the Captain said, “But it’s strictly a formality.
In a week you’ll be reinstated with a slap on the hand.” He actually winked,
“And six months of remedial training on police procedure. If it were up to me,
I’d give you a goddamn medal. You ended up saving a hell of a lot more lives
than you took and their deaths certainly won’t be mourned.”

The Captain looked at the other two men to see if they
had any more to add. They didn’t. To Owens he said, “Well, I know this isn’t
much notice, but you’re due at the station at 9:00 o’clock tomorrow morning to
start your debriefing.”

Owens just looked at him.

“Well, before we leave, do you have any questions?”

“Just one,” Owens replied. “Why did they bother to try
to take out a couple of cops? What was the point? The guy posing as Wallenberg
could have just stopped when he pointed out the receipt didn’t match their
tracking numbers. By the time a standard surveillance was setup, if ever, they
could have been long gone.”

The Captain nodded, “That was one of the first things
we asked the fake Wallenberg. It seems when he received your story from the
guard in the lobby, he checked you out. He had a plant at the precinct, right
inside the taskforce.”

“Who was it?” Owens asked.

The Captain frowned. “It was Helms, Jason Helms. As
the dispatch coordinator, he verified your assignment, your previous calls and that
you two hadn’t checked in or informed anyone of your whereabouts since early
that morning. Wallenberg was reluctant to take a chance and lose the sweet
setup they had going, and since no one knew where you were, he decided to take
you out right then and there. He would dispose of your bodies and vehicle; you
and Starling would just disappear. No one would link you to the Stone Billings
building.”

He smiled, “The bogus Wallenberg couldn’t have
foreseen that a detective named Janus Owens would single-handedly topple their
operation.” Then the Captain asked, “Any more questions, Owens?”

Owens started to shake his head and then thought
better of it. “No, no more questions, for now.”

After they left, he had another visitor; one of the
in-house shrinks. He came to discuss Owens’ loss of memory. The doctor assured
him that there was no permanent damage, that it was likely the trauma of the
event that caused Owens to sub-consciously suppress the memories. He told Owens
that if he wished, there was a procedure that was about ninety percent
effective in treating a memory loss of this type.

Thinking back on what he had just been told about his
activities following Starling’s death, Owens decided against the procedure. The
doctor allowed it was, of course, Owens’ choice, but said there was also a good
chance the memories would return naturally, on their own. Owens would take that
chance. Maybe he would get lucky and the memories would stay buried.

It turned out that the Captain had been wrong about
the length of his suspension. It lasted a full month; he was docked that time
in pay and was put on six months’ probation along with the remedial training.
During his probation, he underwent psychiatric evaluations and counseling by
the police shrinks. The counseling actually helped. After receiving a clean
bill of health from the police psychiatrists, his probation was over and he was
fully reinstated, he waited a week and then quit the force.

He wasn’t resentful of the punishment. In fact, it was
much lighter than he thought he deserved. He just didn’t want to be put in the
position of being responsible for anyone’s life but his own, ever again. He
would live with the guilt of Starling’s death, for as long as he lived, but he
would start over… this time on his own terms.

● ● ●

“Boss, is everything alright? I said we’re ready to
engage our subspace generators three times. You haven’t answered me.” Hec’s
tone was anxious.

The AI’s gruff baritone brought Owens back to the
present. Suddenly, it dawned on him that Hec sounded a lot like Starling. He
briefly wondered if that had anything to do with his decision to take Hec
along. He mentally shrugged off the thought and said, “I’m okay, just doing a
little wool gathering, I guess. I’m heading for the bridge now.” He stepped into
the corridor and quickly made it to the pilot’s seat and sat down. He looked up
at the holo-screens and then scanned the console’s indicators. As expected,
everything was green.

“Let’s go,” he told Hec.

It was early morning and the sun had barely crested
over the hills. The Cathedral was empty. It was cool and dry inside. The not
unpleasant scent of oiled wood and waxed stone permeated the air. The Grand
Patriarch and his daughter sat in one of the darkened side galleries. He began
without preamble, “Sharné, I have just received word that Janus Owens’ ship has
crossed the quarantine’s boundary. He is approximately two weeks away from
Berralton. At last, our salvation is at hand.”

“I am relieved he remains safe,” she said. “He
encountered no further trouble on his trip?”

“Not as far as we can tell, however, our intelligence
network is not what it once was.” Nothing is what it once was, he thought. “I
had a communiqué sent to his ship with the coordinates for the location of the
rendezvous.  You will leave in three days and join the two ships Talin
already has in position. That will allow you enough time to arrive before Owens
and be waiting to escort him back to Berralton.”

“I am ready. As you have instructed, I am prepared to
act as Golstar’s official representative. I will present the assignment to
Janus Owens. I will ensure he is kept in the dark about the true reason for why
he was summoned. I will assure him his help is needed to investigate a problem
he is uniquely equipped to solve; the recovery of a stolen religious artifact.
As is my duty, I will make sure he is satisfied with my explanation. When we
arrive on-planet, he will be brought to you and the first phase will be
complete.” She paused. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to resort to acting, but
it will be necessary.”

The Grand Patriarch nodded his understanding. “I grant
you, there remains some role playing on your part, but it is limited. Remember,
the original plan was quite a bit more… creative. As it is now, we must rely
solely on our simplified plan and hope he will accept your story and the
ensuing events that will follow.”

“Yes Father, I promise to monitor him most carefully
for any sign his suspicions are aroused beyond what would be normal... under
the circumstances. I will do everything I can to make sure he believes me,
believes the story.”

The Grand Patriarch nodded. “If he accepts it, and his
knowledge remains limited to what we allow him to see and hear, then the
information he provides his government on his return should cause us minimal
exposure.” He smiled sheepishly, “If all works well, he will return to
Confederated Planets without an inkling of the true aid he gave us.”

“It will work, Father.”

“One can only hope. But I must admit I preferred my
original plan. It was tailored to Janus Owens’ experience and interests. It
would have allowed us to study him at length and through him, his culture. In
addition, we would have been better able to maintain Golstar’s image of
impregnability.” He sighed, and then chuckled, “It would have made a good
story.”

Sharné smiled, “Maybe so father, but I was not
comfortable in my original role as a damsel in distress.”

“Nonsense,” he scoffed, missing her meaning. “You
would have pulled it off brilliantly.”

“Perhaps, but it would have been difficult for me. It
is not our Way to give any outward displays of sexual differentiation; physical
or emotional.” She frowned. “As Keeper of the Way, you know I am obligated to
uphold these tenets.” She searched for the words. “It would have been difficult
for me to appeal to Owens’ masculine sense of protectiveness. Even in
Confederated Planets’ multi-cultural societies, this type of behavior is not
typical.”

Her father nodded his agreement, “That is true, at least
outwardly. But the use of what is archaically termed as “feminine wiles”
continues to be exploited to this day. Putting aside the longstanding social
and legal equality of the sexes, Confederated Planets citizens are still
governed by their emotions and sexuality.”

Sharné blushed. She was uncomfortable talking about
this subject with her father. She chose to paraphrase the Founder, “That is why
public displays of affection between men and women are not allowed.
Demonstrations of emotion are to be discouraged. Only platonic discourse and
meetings between uncommitted opposite sexes are allowed in public. To act
otherwise sows the seeds of decadence and decline.” She stopped when she saw
her father’s broad smile.

“I believe I am somewhat familiar with that premise,”
he said dryly.

“I am sorry. I must admit to still being a little
nervous but,” she quickly added, “I will not fail you.”

“I know,” he said gently.

“We’re approaching the rendezvous. It looks like the welcoming
committee has already arrived,” Hec announced. “Talk about a rousing Golstar
welcome… there are three big ugly ships waiting for us. They’re definitely
military. I read weapons, a whole lot of them, and right now, more than a few
of them are locked on us.”

“Great,” Owens fumed. “What else can you tell me?

 “I can tell you that their energy signals are
unfamiliar, but that’s not too surprising. I can’t determine much more without
a full sensor scan. Did I tell you that they are big, really big?”

“Yeah, you did, but don’t try a scan or attempt
anything else that might upset our hosts. The instructions in their message
were pretty damn clear on the subject of scans and you know what happens when
they get pissed off. I don’t have any desire to add our disappearance to the
legend.” Owens looked up at the holo-screen, straining to make some sense out
of the three green diamonds flickering on the three-dimensional grid.

“Okay, I won’t rock the boat, but I can’t help but be
a little curious.” Hec paused. “Well, that didn’t take long. Our mysterious
clients are hailing us. And of course, it’s a voice-only transmission.”

“Open the link. Let’s hear what they have to say.”
Owens leaned forward in the pilot seat.

A distinctly feminine voice filled the room. The voice
was soft and clear but he thought that he could detect a slight edge of steel
lurking just beneath the surface. The woman spoke in an ancient dialect of
English. Owens was thankful that he learned the archaic tongue during the
voyage to Golstar.

The woman’s voice sounded youthful to Owens’ trained
ear. “I give you greetings Janus Owens. May the Light of the Way be your guide
in all things. I bring you the personal blessings from the Grand Patriarch. I
am the Keeper of the Way and I am speaking to you from the bridge of the
battleship,
Light Saber
. I will provide your final approach coordinates.
Use these coordinates to bring your ship alongside of the
Light Saber
in
preparation for docking. I ask that you do not deviate from these coordinates.”

Owens knew it was not a request.

“I also remind you the conditions given in the first
message continue to be in full force. Other than basic navigation and proximity
scanners, your ship’s tactical sensors are to remain off-line. All weapons are
to remain off-line. At no time during your stay will communications with
Confederated Planets be allowed unless we give you our express permission. We
will of course expect full compliance with all other conditions as well.” The
coordinates of the
Light Saber
were then transmitted and before Owens
could reply, the communication link was severed.

“Not a very talkative bunch, are they? They don’t seem
to have lost any of their arrogance over the past few centuries.” Owens
commented, “Well, let’s do what the lady says. The sooner I find out what’s
going on, the better.”

“Course coordinates have been received and laid in.
We’re on our way Boss. They want us to go slow; I guess they want to look us
over, so ETA is at one hour, ten minutes. Um, while we’re in transit, shouldn’t
you change or something?”

Owens looked down at the rumpled ship jumpsuit he was
wearing and sighed. “I guess I better clean up and change into something more
appropriate for this meeting. I wonder what their reaction would be if I showed
up naked?”

“I don’t know Boss, but history tells me their sense
of humor might only be found using a subatomic scanning microscope.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right and besides I could catch
a cold. I suppose I’ll have to find something to wear.” He got up and headed
towards his stateroom.

An hour later he returned to the bridge. He turned
around in a full circle. “This was one of the other conditions that their
message contained. I was to wear clothing that complied with their customs. The
only things they allow to be exposed are hands and face. They provided some
general guidelines and this is the outfit I came up with. What do you think?”

Owens wore a simple black, crew-necked, one-piece
contour-suit that conformed to his body shape without being excessively tight.
His feet were incased calf length, shiny black dura-leather boots. The outfit
was finished off with a Nehru collared, charcoal gray day coat that terminated
just below his knees. There were no visible clasps or adornments. The coat hung
straight from Owens broad shoulders and remained slightly opened.

“You look good, Boss. Few men could wear an outfit
like that. You can’t disguise your physique. With those muscles, it’s easy to
tell that you’re a Loder. The women of Golstar are going to faint when they see
you.”

“Do you think it’s inappropriate? I tore apart my
wardrobe and this was as close as I could come to their requirements. Well, the
coat was just a little snug, so I couldn’t use the closures, but at least it’s
not too showy and everything is covered as they specified. I’m glad I didn’t
have to use any of the other outfits in the wardroom.”

“I was only kidding,” Hec said. “You look fine. I’m
sure your clothes will meet with their approval.”

“They had better. I don’t intend to change. At least
their dress code didn’t coincide with some of the clothing the diplomatic corps
thoughtfully provided. Some of that looked like something right out of a
historical novel. I wouldn’t be surprised if there weren’t powdered wigs hidden
in some of the containers. As to the women fainting… well, we’ll just have to
see, won’t we?” He grinned.

Hec asked, “Speaking of waiting, I’m curious. Do you
think this is just the assembly point for an official escort or simply a
parking place for the
Holmes
so that they can chauffeur you themselves
in their big shiny ships?”

“I don’t have a clue; your guess is as good as mine.
In either case, you know the drill. Act as a typical AI. It’s not clear what
they’re going to do with the ship. They may end up boarding us, so remember to
act dumb. Or maybe in your case, act normal.”

“Ha, ha, did you get that one out of those ancient
language tapes you were listening to?” The AI sniffed, “And one of these days
you’re going to trust I understand my role when it comes performing my duties,
so stop worrying, they’ll never suspect me.”

“They had better not... and don’t be so damn touchy.
It’s for my peace of mind, not yours. Besides, they’ll probably want to keep
the
Holmes
as far away from their home system as possible. I don’t know
anything about the assignment they have in mind for me, or how long it might
take. So if they don’t want the ship anywhere near one of their planets, you
may find yourself cooling your metaphorical heels out here for a while.”

“That’s okay Boss; I can be as patient as the next AI
personality overlay.” Hec paused momentarily. “Speaking of the devil, we’re
parallel to the
Light Saber
now. The distance between us is less than
ten meters. I’m now initiating the final docking procedure per their kind
directions and have extended the
Holmes’
docking cleats. Did I tell you
that the
Light Saber
is really big; bigger than a Confederated Planets
battleship? The other two ships look to be about the same tonnage.”

“We’re close enough to eyeball it,” Owens said. “Let’s
have a look.”

Hec dutifully put the images from the outside docking
cameras on the holo-screen. The
Light Saber
filled the screen. Owens
immediately saw three bands of weapons blisters circling the huge hull. He
could just make the faint outlines of rectangles that could only be oversize
maintenance hatches for the enormous shield projectors that must lurk beneath
the expansive hull. “That’s one nasty looking battle wagon. What did we do to
deserve such a reception?”    

A single, loud metallic clang reverberated throughout
the ship. “That’s their docking rig. They must not trust us. The rig is huge
all by itself. It’s more like a rigid derrick in contrast to the
flex-connectors we use in Confederated Planets.” Hec paused for a moment, “I
just received the signal that the clamps are secured to the
Holmes’
cleats. The ships are now mated and by the size of their rig, we won’t be going
anywhere until they release us. Anyway, by the time you reach the inner
airlock, the passageway should be fully pressurized. You don’t want to keep the
lady waiting. Good luck Boss.”

Owens’ pulse increased as the magnitude of what he was
about to do struck him again. He would be the first Confederated Planets
citizen to ever lay eyes upon Golstar and its people. He had trouble
comprehending how an ex-cop-turned-private-eye could find himself in such a
position.

As he had done so many times on the trip to Golstar,
questions started swirling in his mind. What did they really want him for? If
their request was legitimate, what could he possibly do that their home law
enforcement couldn’t? And why had they asked for
him
by name? Well, he
thought, he would soon have all the answers. He took a few calming breaths and
started his short walk to the airlock. He reached the inner lock and paused.
Hec announced that everything was green and opened the pressure door leading to
the outer lock.

A few moments later Owens found himself waiting in
front of the Golstar ship’s outer lock. It opened and the voice of the Keeper
of the Way immediately instructed him to enter. “Janus Owens, proceed to the
door straight ahead at the end of the grand entryway. Through the door, you
will find yourself in a corridor. Walk forward to its end and go through the
door then turn right at the first junction you encounter.  Enter the
second door on your left. I will be waiting for you there.”

Owens stepped past the
Light Saber’s
outer
airlock threshold. It closed behind him. The inner lock opened and a rush of the
Golstar ship’s air immediately hit him, equalizing the slight pressure
differential. The air was thick with humidity. He wondered if something was
wrong with the ship’s life support. The heavy moisture-laden air was already
beginning to make him sweat. He also noticed that it carried a subtle scent of
spice. It reminded him of cinnamon, orange peel and something else he couldn’t
quite place. He momentarily wondered if the air was laced with some sort of
psychotropic agent. If it was, he thought, he couldn’t do anything about it
now.

He entered the double-wide entryway of the
Light
Saber’s
inner lock. It opened into a large foyer. Unprepared for the
environment that greeted him, he stopped and looked around the grand entryway
and was immediately transported back to an earlier age. With mouth agape, he
looked around the large chamber. He was struck by the incredible ornate design
of the Golstar ship’s deliberately exposed structural supports. 

Convoluted lattice works of girders and braces had
been elaborately adorned and left uncovered. Bulkhead supports were wrought in
scrollwork. Ornate balusters and fretwork presented a picture not unlike
ancient Victorian metalwork of old Earth. He could see that the upper
structures and ceiling were painted in asymmetrical patterns of overlapping
browns and oranges. He reached out and touched a nearby, fragile-looking
support. The dark gray-green alloy was not familiar to him; no doubt refined
from some native ore mined on one of the Golstar planets.

Bright, spherical lights hung from the ceiling,
highlighting the crafted metalwork. Complex shadows were cast by the lights,
making the scene even more intricate and not a little confusing. Further
disconcerting was that the shadows mottled the foyer’s surfaces and almost masked
the large hatches disguised as carved wooden doors regularly spaced along the
walls. The scene reminded Owens of a depiction of the fictional submarine
Nautilus in an ancient recording he once saw as a child.

Owens had trouble taking it all in. His eyes had
difficulty finding a single focal point and flitted from one design to another,
never quite resting on one element. He looked down the end of the entryway,
shutting out the distraction of shadows and fancy metalwork. He focused instead
on his destination and began to walk; his boot heels tapped on a polished deck
constructed of what seemed to be real wood.

He opened the heavy hatch and walked slowly down the
entryway, following the directions that the Keeper of the Way had given him. He
was still intrigued by the vision of the archaic grand entryway. He thought it
unusual to present such an artistic interpretation of an earlier gentle age in
a ship clearly designed for war. As he traveled deeper into the ship, he found
that the inner corridors were a little more functional-looking but still
curiously ornate. Owens finally reached the designated door and stopped. He
stood motionless, hesitating. He wondered what was awaiting him on the other
side. He hadn’t been this nervous since he was a rookie on the force.

Staring at the door, he saw that it had a simple
press-plate mechanism. Stop stalling, he told himself. He finally reached
forward and the door immediately opened at his touch. He paused as cool dry air
caressed his exposed skin and dried the beginning droplets of perspiration that
had formed on his forehead. That’s much better, he thought. He straightened his
shoulders and stepped across the threshold only to have his eyes dazzled once
more.