Shadows of Golstar

by Terrence Scott

  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.”

  When Owens didn’t respond, Neven went on, “Look, Mr. Owens, I can well imagine what you’re thinking right now, but I have been given no latitude on this. Suffice it to say this request has caused quite a stir in the Leadership and has opened a number of highly sensitive issues that were thought long dead and buried. The non-disclosure commitment under the Military Secrecy Act of
'02 transcends the government’s Most Secret category and is the highest information protection authority Confederated Planets now has in place.”

  “It’s just a document,” Owens said. “I could sign it and still leak the information.”

  Neven shook his head, “No. It’s a document with severe penalties attached, and should you breach your signed commitments, then those penalties will be applied.” He shrugged, “Besides we‘ve thoroughly screened your background. We know you honor your agreements and have held a not insignificant security clearance in the past.”

  Owens shook his head, “Commissioner, I’m just asking for the name of the damned client, nothing beyond that. I really can’t see the need for all this red tape for one simple question, especially at this juncture.”

  Neven’s voice reflected his own frustration. “All I can say is that the need for secrecy is of the utmost importance for a number of reasons which I can’t go into unless you sign those documents. Please consider your decision carefully.”

  Owens was silent, thoughtfully staring at the sheets lying before him. Finally, he looked up and asked, “What happens if I sign these and after receiving the pertinent facts, decide against taking the case?”

  “Then we’ll release you from your contract, but the non-disclosure commitment will remain in force as allowed by Article II of the Act,” Neven quickly answered. “But,” he added, “I honestly don’t think you will change your mind once you understand who your prospective client is.” Owens remained silent. “Seeing your understandable hesitation, why don’t you take the documents now and review them at your leisure? Then come back and we can finalize the transaction,” Neven finished.

  Staring at Neven, Owens was silent for a few more moments. To buy some time, he picked up the top document and scanned the first sheet. He pretended to read the page while his mind wrestled with Neven’s ultimatum. Owens was no fan of government bureaucracy but understood it as a necessary evil that kept wheels of civilization rolling. However, he drew the line at coercion.

  He carefully replaced the document back on the desk and shifted in his seat. He looked directly into Neven’s eyes. His voice took on a perceptible edge, “So in essence, you want me to sign blindly a contract and a nondisclosure agreement without any information as to the identity of the client or even the general nature of the assignment?”

  Frowning, Neven nodded, “That’s not exactly the way I’d put it, but that is about the size of it. Believe me, I am truly sorry but as a government representative, I cannot say anything more unless you sign those documents. You must consider our position.”

  Owens said, his voice hardening, “Well, I’m sorry too, but without any useful information on which to base my decision, information of any kind, I don’t intend to sign anything… especially that government contract. No offense, but I’ve seen how short-term contracts with the government can be extended with the contracted party having little or no say in the matter. I enjoy the independence of being my own boss. I’ve been self-employed for some time now, and I’m not about to report to anyone but a legitimate client. So, if you haven’t already surmised it, my answer is I respectfully decline your offer, whatever in the hell it may be.” Owens rose to leave.

  Neven also rose. “I’m sad to hear you’re not willing to take a chance on this assignment.”

  Owens shrugged and extended his hand for a parting handshake, “What assignment? I don’t know if there even is an assignment. While I’m not above taking a calculated chance, you’re not giving out enough information to make that calculation. I just can’t see it. No hard feelings, Commissioner?”

  Smiling, Neven said, “Not at all,” and raised his own hand.

  Owens barely registered the small black ovoid in Neven’s hand before he lost consciousness.

  ● ● ●

  Owens carefully opened his eyes. He was lying on a cold, leather couch in what appeared to be another office. He had a slight headache, but that was to be expected from getting hit by a neural shocker. He slowly levered himself into a sitting position and groggily looked at his wrist-comp. He had been out for a little under two hours. His Loder physiology had helped reduce the typical interval of around three hours. Fortunately, it had been set at the lowest level. Even with his natural resistance, he could have been rendered unconscious for more than eight hours had it been switched to the higher setting.

  As his mind began to clear, his anger at being blind-sided grew in proportion. His ire quickly focused on the pompous official responsible for the cowardly act. He couldn’t believe Neven had, without warning, the balls to stun him. What could possibly be so important to make a high-ranking official willing to ignore the government’s own laws and violate a free citizen’s rights? He knew he couldn’t afford the time to dwell on Neven’s actions. He needed to get out of there fast and back up to his ship.

  He checked himself and found physically, he was almost back to normal. He thought he might have gained a slight advantage if Neven had reckoned on him being out for the full three hours. He quickly scanned the room. It appeared to be an office, slightly smaller than Neven’s. No personal items were in sight. By the thin layer of dust on the nearby desk and chairs, it appeared to have been vacant for some time. Nothing was readily apparent that he could use for a weapon. His eyes shifted to the door and he started to rise. He was halfway up when the auto door slid open and a heavily armed Marine followed by Neven strode into the room. The Marine carried an un-slung pulse rifle pointed in Owens’ general direction.

  “Please, don’t get up,” Neven motioned at him to sit back down. As Owens slowly sank onto the couch, Neven grabbed a side chair from against the wall and pulled it out to face Owens. He fastidiously dusted it with a handkerchief and gingerly sat down. He looked hard at Owens and said, “You Loders do match your reputation. You’re quite a hardy bunch, aren’t you?”

  Owens grimly stared back at Neven. His big hands were clenched, with the knuckles turning white.

  Ignoring Owens’ lethal look, Neven continued. “It seems I must apologize to you yet again. I didn’t intend to stun you. I had arranged for a guard to be outside my door to discourage you from leaving if you had refused outright to sign the papers. Unfortunately, there was a local emergency, and I was notified the Marine would be delayed. That was the message you saw me reading when you came in. Normally, we’re not this disorganized but this request was totally unexpected, and if I may say so, rather unnerving as well. When you refused my request... well, I was forced to take matters into my own hands.”

  His voice took on a more earnest tone, “I do want you to understand I was personally against the first approach. I knew from my review of your dossier you wouldn’t enter into an agreement without knowing more. A sane person possessing any reasonable level of intelligence would have the same very reaction. Alas, career politicians aren’t always known for their intelligence or tact, for that matter. Members of the Parliament committee were adamant that we first try to get you to sign up voluntarily.” He sighed theatrically, “Since that failed, we are now forced to go to this admittedly crude level of persuasion.”

  “Meaning if I don’t agree to the conditions, you lock me away until I agree?” Owens asked.

  Neven barked out a harsh laugh, “Why no, not at all. You really must have a very low opinion of your government. Lock you away? Absolutely not, but knowing your background, I wouldn’t be surprised, if we were so inclined, you would be just stubborn enough to let us do that, at least for a while. Unfortunately, this is simply too important to allow you the luxury of refusing this assignment, even temporarily.” He sighed again. “We’re forced to resort back to one of the basics; blackmail. I’m sure you’re quite familiar with this simple concept, especially in your chosen line of work.”

  Neven pulled out a hardcopy list from his suit pocket and then, item by item, spent the next half hour explaining how Owens’ parents’ holdings on Lode would be confiscated, his finances frozen, his property, including his
ship, seized and impounded and his PI license revoked. Neven finished by saying, “You know we can do this, and if you force our hand, we most certainly will.”

  Owens looked at Neven in unconcealed exasperation and in outrage asked, “You’re breaking the fundamental law that protects my rights! For God’s sake, why, why are you going to these ridiculous lengths?”

  At Owens’ outburst, the Marine tensed and started to step forward. Neven motioned to her to back off. He then nodded, and dropping out of character responded with a touch of his own exasperation, “Just sign the goddamn papers and you’ll find out; believe me, it’s the only way you’ll find out. Otherwise, I’m afraid your family will suffer the consequences right along with you. Stop being so damn stubborn and just sign it.”

  Owens knew he was in a corner and try as he might, he couldn’t see a way out. He believed Neven was serious in his threat. He had experienced other forms of official coercion when he was on the force though nowhere near as blatant or as outright illegal. It was one of the reasons he left the force for a private practice. He was also familiar enough with history to know what government officials could and would do in the name of national, global and stellar security. Citizens’ rights were always the first to suffer in such circumstances.

  He knew he was boxed in, and he could barely constrain the anger he felt building within. Well, since he couldn’t give Neven a dose of his own medicine, he instead decided to share his displeasure in another way and proceeded to tell Neven what he thought of him and the Confederated Planets ruling government. Neven endured Owens’ tirade without as much as a facial twitch, though he did seem to pale slightly when Owens described in detail his view on Neven’s genetic origin.

  After a good five minutes, Owens finally wound down and in a somewhat hoarse voice, indicated he would sign the damn documents but under vehement protest. Neven immediately got up and gestured to the Marine. With Neven in the lead and Owens followed closely by the Marine, they walked down a short hallway back to Neven’s office. They entered and Owens sat down before the set of documents still resting on the top of Neven’s desk.