Shadows of Golstar (8 page)

Service
took place in thousands of temples on the inhabited planets of the Golstar
system. Twice a solar day at the exact same time in the morning and evening,
Guides of the Way would lead the followers of Golan Berral Light, the Founder,
in the rituals of the Way. Everyone over the age of five was expected to attend
at least one Service each day. No one was exempted from this rigid schedule
other than the military and key personnel assigned to government and essential
social services. Only they were allowed to attend special Services at varying
times to accommodate their duty schedules; they were still required to attend
Service at least once a day.

At
the palace on Berralton, Service was held in the huge vaulted temple called the
Cathedral to the Way.
 
It was designed as
the focal point of the palace and as such, dominated the expansive central
courtyard. Built from native stone, it resembled a great church of ancient
Earth’s Renaissance period, complete with flying buttresses and towering
spires, but on a much grander scale. The temple could accept fifteen thousand
worshipers; today, it averaged less than four thousand.

The
Cathedral to the Way was the oldest colony-built structure in the Golstar
system. Before the colonists moved from their transport ships and began to
build the permanent settlements, construction of the great temple was first in
order. Until the grand house of worship was completed, no other structure would
be allowed. The Cathedral to the Way took over a year to complete, and during
its construction, some colonists lived in the ships while others stayed in
temporary shelters.

The colonists, tapping into deposits of native
minerals, forged huge beams and cross members from unique metal ores found
plentiful on the planet. They carved solid blocks from deposits of dark-gray,
marble-like material to sheath the massive superstructure and lined its
interior with exotic woods harvested from nearby forests. Galleries, on either
side of the central aisle, were built of the marble material with seating
surfaces covered by polished wood.  Angled away from the dais, the
galleries on either side of the single aisle were arranged in gradually
elevated tiers to allow a full view from any seat.

 The great structure had no windows, no
multi-hued stained glass. Instead, its walls were festooned with intricately
woven tapestries framed by oiled wood paneling. Illumination was provided by a
massive ball of light suspended motionlessly in the front of the great hall of
worship by unseen beams of energy. More than providing simple illumination, the
ball of radiance was itself a principal symbol for the Light of the
Way.        

Sharné entered the ancient, great hall with its tiers
of galleries by a side entrance from the adjacent corridor. Long ago, before
her time, she was told the Keepers of the Way, leading large formal
processions, would enter from the main entrance at the far end of the hall
framed by its towering doors of bronze. From there, the regal gathering would
advance slowly to the Dais of Light that faced the galleries. A lot of
unnecessary pomp and ceremony, she thought.

However, now in recent time, owing to the smaller
numbers of worshipers sitting towards the front of the hall, changes had been
made, changes for the better, she thought. It was decided that the Keeper of
the Way would enter from the side entrance closer to the dais. The long
procession had, likewise, all but been abandoned. It now consisted of only
Sharné, her father, Uncle Tal and a few visiting officials. She waited
patiently as the Council slowly filed toward their reserved seats at the head
of the hall. She watched as the last of the silent dignitaries finally found
their proper places.

She saw that the shining orb had begun to gently
pulse, signaling for royal procession to begin its journey. She was momentarily
startled to feel a light touch on her shoulder. Touching in public was
forbidden and carried a punishment by law. She quickly turned, and saw that it
was the Grand Patriarch. “Father,” she whispered.   Why do you
keep…?”

He quietly finished her sentence, “...Teasing you?” He
was looking at her with unconcealed affection. She glanced at Uncle Tal and
noticed that he had an ill-concealed, pained expression on his face.

He and Uncle Tal had quietly come up from behind her.
As it was required of all the ruling families, both were in their summer robes
of office and wearing similar platinum headpieces, but with larger signet
jewels of different colors in their centers. She turned to greet him and forced
a smile.

Her smile remained fixed while under her breath, she
said, “Father, if someone were to see you… well, a censure of penance for the
Grand Patriarch would be embarrassing and…” she paused, “damaging.”

Her father matched her smile with a more genuine one
of his own, “You are right, of course,” he said quietly. “But sometimes even a
Grand Patriarch breaks the rules.” His meaning went beyond the small infraction
he had just committed.

She frowned at him, but did not respond. The Council
members had finally completed the passage to their seats and remained standing,
patiently waiting for the appearance of the Keeper of the Way. It was time to
begin the small procession. Turning back to face the waiting officials, her demeanor
turned brisk, and she said, “It is time.”

It was late at night. They were all dressed the same.
Heavy cowls hid dark mask-covered faces; the hems of their long flowing robes brushed
the stone floor. The gray of their coarse-woven robes matched the color of the
floor. Now waiting, motionless, they appeared as so many statues rising out of
the stone from which they seemed carved.

At the sound of a quiet rustling, they turned as one,
breaking the illusion as they looked toward the source. Someone else had
entered the room. The newcomer was dressed in robes cut identical to the others
with the added feature of black trim around the cowl, cuffs and hem. The sex of
the newcomer could not be determined as the robes concealed all features and
form. Twenty sets of eyes followed the hooded figure as it glided towards the
front of the room.

The room was featureless save for a number of small
softly glowing light globes spaced regularly along the walls.  The room
was bare of furniture. The newcomer strode purposely across the room and slowly
turned to face the silent throng.  Without direction, they quietly moved
to form a semicircle to face the newcomer. Raising hands to encompass those present,
the newcomer assumed the mantle of leadership. Through a device that disguised
the newcomer’s voice, the hooded figure began the Litany of Light. The short
ritual proceeded smoothly and ended with echoes of voices raised in praise of
their just and holy cause.

The room again fell to total silence and the Leader
then began in a low, electronically distorted voice, “Preservers, the remedy
that we have discussed for so long has been dispatched.  I have admitted that
I have but small hope it will be successful. However, there remains a slim
chance of victory and therefore, it must be taken. Those who volunteered for
the mission have our utmost gratitude and respect. On this day, let it be
written that they will be bathed in the holy Light of the Way hereafter. These
noble men and women have pledged their lives to make every effort to end the
immediate threat.”  

There was no response from the twenty hooded figures
facing the Leader, nor had the Leader expected any. The Leader went on, “The
agent’s report confirmed our worst fears. The Grand Patriarch is clearly quite
mad. He now threatens all that our civilization has gained over the ages. His
plans are drastic, permanent measures to deal with a temporary condition that
will soon be rectified. We must have our own plan to counter the Grand
Patriarch’s mad scheme.”

The Leader turned to a tall hooded figure closest to
his right, “But some minor housekeeping first. Has the matter we discussed
earlier been attended to?”  

The robed member nodded and said in a like-disguised
voice, “The agent and her father were in a tragic accident this evening. A
jitney broke loose from its mag-rail and struck the two while dining at the
Wayside outdoor café.  Maintenance being what it is of late, it is not
that unusual for such a derailment.  I am afraid they received fatal
injuries and were declared deceased just hours ago.”

“Regrettable, but necessary,” the Leader turned back
to the assembled Preservers and said, “Her father
was
sympathetic to our
cause, but I am afraid that he remained uncertain of our methods for reaching
our ultimate goal. It was with true and deep regret, I ordered his removal
along with his daughter.” Turning back to the hooded member, the Leader asked,
“And what of the agent’s control?”

“He too has had an unfortunate accident,” the other
responded. 

Turning to include the others, the Leader said,
“Praise the Light of the Way. It would not do for our erstwhile spies to
discover that their report was never destined for the Council. There was a
chance; mind you, it was just a remote chance that connections could be made to
members of our little group. It would have been… awkward. Sadly, it is better
to take these small precautions.”  

The Leader paused in meaningful silence, waiting for
any protest or comment.  Seeing that there was none, the Leader nodded and
said, “A full meeting will take place at our primary site tomorrow after
Service. Be sure all second-tier leaders are included in the gathering. Given the
gravity of the growing threat to our Way of life, we need to begin serious
planning to counter our misguided Patriarch’s efforts. I will encourage the
free-flow of ideas at this gathering. Therefore, I will expect meaningful
contributions from the larger dynamic group. I trust you will make every effort
to attend?”

Taking their continued silence as a positive response,
the Leader said, “Very good, I will then expect of all those present, along
with the second-tier leaders to attend and actively participate. Is there any
other business that someone wishes to bring forward? No? Very well, we are
adjourned until tomorrow. May the Light of the Way illuminate your path.” The
members of the secret society, the self-proclaimed “Preservers of the Way,”
turned and silently filed out of the room.

Four hours after Owens had begun wading through his
messages, he finally read the last piece of mail. It was a confidential,
encrypted communication from the Confederated Planets Institute of Health,
requesting his services to investigate a series of data thefts that had
recently taken place. He had been hired to conduct some minor investigations
for the Institute from time to time over the past several years. All the
assignments had been fairly small; petty pilferage, embezzlement and the like;
none of which the Institute wanted bathed in the light of public scrutiny.
Owens delivered results, just like the authorities, but unlike the authorities,
Owens was also discreet. The Institute appreciated both his track record and
closed mouth. 

This case was a little different. It seemed a number
of the Confederated Planets DNA data centers had been broken into and citizens’
private files accessed.  Every citizen of Confederated Planets had their
DNA mapped at birth and put on file in these data centers.  The DNA
records provided vital information for both medical and legal purposes. No
damage to the data had been discovered, but a serious breach of privacy had
occurred.    

The Institute was responsible for these data centers and
feared legal sanction and possible prosecution of its members should they be
found negligent. They wanted Owens to investigate quietly and discover the
identity of the perpetrators. This way they could then go to the authorities
with the names in hand and demonstrate that they had handled it efficiently on
their own. This could lead to positive, rather than negative publicity, and in
the Institute’s collective mind, help minimize inevitable legal actions.  

Owens began to compose his response. The Institute of
Health had allowed him free rein in his past investigations and paid top fees.
Besides, he was curious as to the criminal purpose of the physical break-ins.
It was unusual in this day and age to break into a building for the sole
purpose of accessing data. Hacking from a remote location was still the
preferred method used for data mining. He decided to take the case. As he began
to dictate his acceptance, Hec called on the com, “Boss, you better get up
here.  I think we’ve got trouble.”

“On my way,” Owens answered and scrambled to his feet.
He jogged through the corridor and quickly reached the bridge.  As he
entered, he asked Hec, “What do we have, system malfunction, hull breach,
what?”

“None of the above,” Hec quickly responded. 
“Believe it or not, we have an unidentified bogie closing on our starboard
quadrant. Take a look at the tactical grid.” A bright display appeared over the
master console.

“Did you try for identification?”

“I tried hailing it, but no response, no transponder
ID either. I hope you don’t mind, but I took it on my own to change the ship’s
course.”

Owens nodded his approval, “Not a problem. I’m glad
you did.”  

“I performed an evasive maneuver twice, and it
likewise adjusted its course both times,” the AI said. “It’s on a definite
pursuit course. I got some funny readings too. I don’t know what to make of
them, but I did scan for weapons. From what I scanned, it looks like they’re
armed and ready. They aren’t locked on our ship yet but are actively scanning,
and once they’re in range, well… from here it looks like they mean to do us
some serious harm.”

Owens looked at the three-dimensional tactical grid
display, and his stomach gave a lurch. The representations of two ships, the
Holmes
and the unknown ship were displayed to show their relative positions. He saw
that the other ship appeared very close and flashing red numbers overlaid on
the grid indicated it was slowly closing in on the
Holmes.
 

Owens cursed, “Damn, who in the hell
is
that?
Why would someone want to attack my ship?” He continued to watch the
unidentified blip slowly close the distance. Finally, and with some reluctance,
he said, “Hec, you’d better declare an official emergency and transmit our
situation.” The
Sherlock Holmes
was almost a flight day out from the nearest
Space Authority post, and it was unlikely a patrol could respond in time, but
he remembered that regulations required notification for the record.  

He dropped heavily into the pilot seat at the main
console, trying to recall his limited training. Even though his ship was well
armed, he really never expected he’d be forced to use the weapons. He was
trained in their mechanical operation but was not well versed in tactics.
Firing at mindless target drones was one thing, trying to take out an armed, intelligent
adversary was another.

“Done Boss,” Hec announced.

He grimaced, as he just remembered another piece of
documentation to take care of. Red tape had been taken to its ultimate level.
“Now transmit our ‘Intent to Defend’ declaration. I think the data template is
in def-com memory.”

“Found it, the transmission is on its way,” Hec
replied.

With that legal nicety completed, Owens scanned the
ship’s main console and noted Hec had activated the shields and put the weapons
on-line. Owens directed, “Better keep sending the hails.  We need to go
through all the legal motions, in case there are questions later, provided of
course that there is a later. Are we getting any response?”  

The approaching ship remained unresponsive to Hec’s attempt
at contact and continued its pursuit with weapons fully deployed, still
searching for lock on the fleeing
Holmes
. “Sorry Boss, no response to
our hails, but I’m receiving some pings. I think they’re going for a lock.”

Owens rubbed his jaw, staring intently at the display,
“Nice ambush, if that’s what it truly is. They caught us, just as we dropped
out of subspace, not enough time to recharge the condensers and make an
opportune escape.” Owens continued, “How much time before they make weapons
range and get a solid lock on us?”

“Well, they’re a little better at acceleration than we
are. I estimate about a minute to weapons’ range,” Hec responded.  “I
still haven’t been able to identify the ship’s physical configuration. I’m
seeing odd energy patterns too. They appear to be using a variation on the old
plasma drive for normal-space maneuvering. We stopped using plasma drives over
fifty years ago. Our efficiency and range should be a lot better than theirs,
but they have an edge on acceleration. They caught us unawares so it’s taking
time for us to build up our own speed. It now looks to be thirty seconds to
range. I’m still receiving no response to my signals, and they’re beginning
their evasion pattern.”

“Uh-oh, I guess they really do mean business. Access
tactical, get the targeting projections and start an evade program,” Owens
ordered.  And that, Owens thought, was the extent of his training on ship
defense; he would have to depend on Hec and the ship’s automated systems.

Hec was linked to all the ship’s defensive computers
and activated the appropriate sub-routines. “Completed; engaging evasion
pattern and
Holmes’
weapons are now attempting a target lock of our
own,” Hec responded.  “Ship’s shields are nominal. All defensive systems
are on-line.” The AI’s voice had taken on a stiff, mechanical edge as it
submerged itself deeper into the ship’s cyber network.    

Owens watched indicators flash across control banks
with frenzied activity as the ship prepared itself to fight. “On my authority,
I pass weapons fire control and full ship maneuvering over to you,” Owens
formally stated. He couldn’t hope to compete with Hec’s reaction and
computation speed. He briefly wondered if it would have been better to have the
military AI plugged-in for this situation. However, there wasn’t enough time to
make a switch. Good or bad, he was committed with Hec.  

“Acknowledged, now sit back and enjoy the show.”
 The old Hec had re-emerged, “Ten seconds to engagement.”

Staring at the Holo-screen, Owens watched intently as
the enemy vessel closed on his ship. Following Owens’ command, Hec had just
initiated an evasion pattern when the unidentified ship fired first with an
energy beam weapon. The
Holmes
was beginning a series of complex,
three-dimensional zigzag maneuvers.  

The first shot missed, immediately followed by a
second. Either by luck or design the second salvo struck the
Sherlock Holmes
directly amidships. Owens heard the shield-strike alarm and tensed for the
shock but felt nothing, not even shield damper echoes. Puzzled, he quickly
looked at his ship’s shield status. Owens saw only green on the console. He
stared at the readouts in surprise. The attacking ship’s weapon had barely
affected his defensive screens. Their shields’ strength was down only by seven
percent. Owens was completely mystified by the apparent weakness of the attack.

“Hardly scratched us,” Hec reported. The rules of
engagement had been satisfied. “My turn,” Hec crowed, and let loose with a
barrage from the burst lasers. Deadly arrows of photon energy stitched across
empty space reaching for the attacking ship. The enemy ship anticipated the
Holmes
’
immediate return of fire. Even so, it barely evaded Hec’s fiery
response as it abruptly changed its trajectory. Hec continued to analyze the
enemy’s evasion patterns attempting to anticipate its next position.

The enemy fired its energy weapon repeatedly; each
time missing its target. However, the attacking ship doggedly kept up its
firing pattern until finally it once again scored another direct hit.
Holmes
’
shields absorbed the energy strike and registered only a six-percent
degradation. Owens continued to be puzzled by the minimal damage and at the
same time was thankful that it hadn’t been worse.

Hec immediately replied with another deadly volley
from the burst lasers, this time finding a target and striking the enemy ship
with multiple hits on its tail section. The enemy ship’s shield flared in
violent reaction to the strike. The
Holmes’
sensors indicated that their
foe’s shields had lost twenty-five percent of their strength and had endured
some surface damage to the rear quadrant of their outer hull. 

Mesmerized, Owens stared unblinking as he sat before
the holo-screen and witnessed the silent ship-to-ship combat. The enemy ship
appeared undaunted by the
Holmes
’ weapons strike and immediately
responded by firing its energy weapons again, missing as the
Sherlock Holmes
continued to dance its own evasive ballet with its dangerous partner. 

Owens knew that they had been engaged in the battle
for less than three minutes, but the time seemed to drag as the dance became
more and more complex, each ship adding more twists and turns to its
repertoire. He intently listened to the rapid changes in the throbbing pitch of
the ship’s reaction engines. He could feel a slight vibration as the ship’s
inertia-canceling generators struggled to compensate for the abrupt course
changes. Hec was accelerating, decelerating and changing direction at an
inhuman speed. The
Holmes
answered the helm like the military ship it
had once been; performing every course change flawlessly. Hec’s tactics
impressed Owens. He could never have matched the AI’s reflexes.

“I’m starting to get the hang of this now,” Hec said.
The
Holmes
came out of a particularly complex maneuver and fired its
burst lasers again at the unknown attacker. The energy beams missed and Hec
immediately followed up with the rail gun, but the enemy ship had angled away
from Hec’s volley. Undaunted by the miss, Hec switched back to the burst lasers.
The enemy ship had started another rapid course change when it was struck a
glancing blow from Hec’s salvo. But it was enough to inflict more damage to the
enemy’s defensive shields.      

“They lost another ten percent in shield strength,”
Hec announced.

“I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself, but I have to
admit that we do seem to be gaining the upper hand in this dogfight. Keep it
up.”

Those aboard the other ship must have been thinking
the same thing. In an apparent act of desperation, the attacking ship launched
a self-shielded missile. If it were to hit the
Holmes
, at their current
position, the enemy would receive heavy collateral damage of their own.

It looked to Owens like they were going for broke.
Owens grabbed the pilot seat’s arms as he tensely watched the missile’s
progress on the holo-screen. Hec was also tracking the missile’s erratic path
as it went through its preprogrammed evasion pattern. The
Holmes
fired
at the missile and missed. It approached the halfway point between the two battling
ships. Hec fired twice more before finally penetrating its shield. The
missile’s payload detonated in a great expanding flower of energy. The wave of
destruction quickly engulfed both ships.

This time Owens felt the strike. The
Holmes
bucked as the energy wave hammered its shields. The shield-strike alarm warbled
a loud warning as other alarms chimed in, adding to the cacophony.
Alarm-failure indicators momentarily flashed bright yellows and reds on the
ship’s banks of monitors. The audible alarms quickly subsided, and Owens was
gratified to see that one-by-one, in surprisingly rapid succession, each
indicator reverted to its nominal green.

Hec had anticipated Owens before he could frame his
question, “We took a good hit on that one, Boss. Ship’s shields dropped another
twenty-seven percent, but the
Holmes
hasn’t taken on much physical
damage. We tripped five power breakers and blew two peripheral bus couplings,
but the back-ups switched in without a hiccup. All systems are back on-line,
but the shield generators will need a lot more time to recharge their
condensers.”