Shadows of Golstar

by Terrence Scott

  She watched him intently as he walked over. She could see he was trying to compensate for the light gravity, but he could not disguise the power in his stride. He moved like some powerful animal whose strength was barely held in check. She not could help but visualize him as some wild beast, trained but not tamed, waiting for the chance overpower his master. In this situation she was the master. An involuntary shiver went through her as she thought of the implications. He reached the table, looked at the chair and sat down gingerly. The chair groaned in protest.

  She said, careful to maintain the neutral tone in her voice, “First, I believe you will want this back.” She turned and gestured to a chair just behind her. The gravity harness was lying across its seat. “Do you wish to put it on now?”

  Owens was a bit surprised. He matched the neutrality in her voice. “No, no thank you. I appreciate its return, but I can manage without it for now. I’ll put it on when I return to my quarters.”

  She was a little startled when she felt an unexpected stab of disappointment that he would not don it there. From where were these thoughts coming? She found herself beginning to blush and she fought to reassert her control. Hoping that the outsider had not noticed her momentary distress, she began. “Janus Owens, after some thought, I believe you can be forgiven your oversight.”

  Owens was careful not to show any reaction. It’s an oversight now, is it?

  Now for my lie, she thought. “Though you did violate one of our conditions, I have come to believe it was, as you indicated, unintentional. My reaction could have been more tempered. You understand the ship had detected your electronic harness from the moment you boarded. You were fortunate to have not been vaporized on the spot. It was only by the cautious restraint of the captain, the standard response was not immediately taken.” She paused, looking at his unfamiliar face, trying to read his reaction to her words and acceptance of her story. His face held an expression only of mild interest. She could not yet tell if he believed her.

  She continued. “The captain delayed in contacting me while the crew readied their weapons and prepared to jettison your ship and destroy it. They planned to detain you for a formal ship’s execution. The captains of Golstar ships are the highest authority on-board and answer to no one where the ship and crew’s safety are concerned. They are expected to make life-and-death decisions immediately and without interference. Your every step was monitored and the captain evaluated you as a potential threat to the ship.” She waited for a response.

  Owens nodded and said, “I understand Confederated Planets has a similar policy in their navy.” Thinking to himself, Owens questioned not the authority but the automatic reaction of this ‘shoot-first-ask-questions-later’ captain. Surely, they could tell by their sensor readings the true nature of his harness. The vest was not that sophisticated. How could they conclude he was a threat? He wondered; had he really been that close to death?

  Sharné continued, “The captain only called as a courtesy to notify me of her decision. I worked to convince her to delay further while she verified with officials back on Berralton that my authority exceeded hers in this one instance. It was a tense few minutes while the proper authority was contacted. I must say that while you were sitting here earlier, the future of your life and ship were in jeopardy.”

  She looked at him pointedly, “I am responsible for your safety, and I make the admission that I was most troubled to hear you brought aboard a piece of contraband forbidden by the conditions. Although I was successful in convincing the captain no harm was intended, I was forced to confirm their findings with you as to the nature of the device. It all happened rapidly and by the time I confronted you, I was…” she paused. “…somewhat agitated. I was pleased you were forthright in admitting your error and confirming the data the ship had already scanned from your device.”

  “You were put in that situation because of my thoughtlessness,” Owens said. “Again, I apologize for causing such, ah… distress aboard your ship and I ask you to accept my sincere thanks for your intervention on my behalf. Please convey my apologies to the ship’s captain and thank her on my behalf for her restraint.”

  He said this while he was thinking her explanation didn’t quite ring true. The inconsistency in her statements did not go unnoticed by Owens. If they had truly confirmed the nature of the device, why had they still designated him as a threat? Something didn’t jibe with her explanation. In any event, he thought, the denizens of Golstar surely brought new meaning to the term ‘paranoia.’

  “Your apology is accepted and you are welcome Janus Owens,” she replied.

  Owens was relieved. Tension in his neck and shoulders gradually relaxed. In spite of himself, he might live just long enough to complete this assignment after all, or at least try. Perhaps he could now ask the simple question that had been nagging him since he first met the Keeper of the Way. “I don’t mean to be rude, and admittedly, I’m out of my element here, so without meaning any intended offense, may I respectfully ask how I am to address you? As you’ve by now determined, I’m a simple private investigator and not very well versed in the arts of diplomacy.” Actually, he thought he was fairly well read on the subject, just not any good at practicing it.

  At his words, a faint smile flitted across her lips and quickly vanished but not before Owens noticed that she had dimples. She was beautiful; Owens had to admit it to himself again. At least she had a physical beauty, he silently amended. The jury was still out on the rest.

  She reasserted a professional manner, “We did neglect to cover that topic in our first meeting, Janus Owens.” She thought a moment. “As you are not of our Way, the honorific would mean little to you, and as I am to be your initial contact, you may simply use my given name, Sharné.”

  A lovely name for an obviously important and powerful young woman, Owens thought. “Thank you Sharné. Could I in turn impose upon you to call me Owens? I’ve never been very comfortable with my first name.”

  She nodded. “Very well, I will be pleased to call you Owens. Now, as we were interrupted, let us begin again the discussion on why you are here.”

  CHAPTER 22

  It was the second watch. Lieutenant Commander Thorne finished reviewing the duty roster and signed his confirmation with a practiced flourish, using the light pen attached to the log pad. He took a moment to admire his barely legible curlicues, and then inserted the pad into the slot on his console for registration in ship’s computer and transcription back to fleet HQ. With that mundane task competed, he looked up and scanned around the bridge of the Light Avenger.

  Everyone was at his or her post, bent intently over this screen or that console, diligently performing their assignments. All was as it should be. He smiled in satisfaction. The well-oiled machine that was the bridge crew performed efficiently and without complaint. Yes, it was as it should be, he thought contentedly, especially on this current mission. The captain would appreciate the efficiency of his watch.

  Earlier, there was the minor irritation of a crewman coming down with an unexpected illness. Normally, he might have been suspicious, but the poor fellow was literally shaking. His skin was as clammy as a finger eel; his face was chalk-white. Another crewman immediately replaced him and there was no disruption in their alert status. A single, incapacitated crewman would not compromise the mission. He felt the Guardian of the Way would be pleased by the efficient manner in which the minor incident was handled.

  He felt the rush of righteous pride. He knew it was an honor that his ship and crew were selected to take part in this special duty, a duty assigned by the Guardian of the Way himself. He could not recall having ever personally taken part in a secret mission for the Guardian of the Way. Thorne looked forward to sending the ‘mission accomplished’ message back to HQ when they had successfully completed the escort duty. Where some might find the duty routine and onerous, Wayne Thorne did not. He knew a mission requested by the Guardian of the Way carried extra obligation and no matter how seemingly mundane
, also carried extra reward.

  A soft tone sounded as the main hatch to the bridge opened. He watched curiously as a number of crewmembers entered the bridge. He didn’t immediately recognize them. They must be some of the new crewmen recently assigned to the ship. Odd, he thought, a shift change wasn’t scheduled for two more hours.

  He was shocked to notice that they were wearing side arms. That was against regulations and his pride was replaced with a fear this blatant violation of military protocol would reflect badly on his duty-record. He frowned with growing displeasure. Had they just come from weapons practice and neglected to check-in their handguns? Even so, severe disciplinary action would be taken. Another thought struck him and he wondered how they had entered the bridge without immediately tripping an alarm. He was momentarily distracted when two of the on-duty personnel unexpectedly rose and turned away from their stations. He noticed that they too now had side arms.

  The bridge’s detectors failed twice to set off an alarm. He vaguely remembered that in reviewing the ship’s log, some maintenance routines had recently been performed on the bridge’s monitoring system. An icy hand gripped his heart as he finally realized the implications. He must act quickly. He turned to activate the emergency shutdown of the ship’s weapons and propulsion systems. His hand never reached the toggle. He felt a momentary disorientation; his body refused to move; his vision clouded to gray, then nothing.

  The late Lieutenant Commander Thorne collapsed quietly to the deck. The hand laser burned a neat hole through the back of his skull, which had exited out of the center of his forehead. The bogus crewman, having dispatched the duty officer, quickly turned and along with his co-conspirators, proceeded to kill the bridge crew methodically, many who were still focused on their duty stations and unaware of the lieutenant commander’s demise. It happened so rapidly, they died without uttering a sound.

  The crewman temporarily assigned to communications was the last to fall from his station, his hand still outstretched in a belated attempt to sound an emergency. Then, acting in unspoken coordination, the mutineers methodically removed the bodies, stacking them in a neat pile behind a partition that screened a small maintenance station. The tall crewman who had killed Thorne stepped away from the other mutineers, assuming the mantle of leadership and began to direct the others.

  “So far, so good,” he grinned, showing even, white teeth in contrast with sun darkened skin. “Stage one went down just as the Colonel had planned. Now onto stage two. Niske, you and Hurd get down to Engineering and help Lon. Let me know immediately when you have it secured. As soon as Curt calls and tells me the armory is in our control, I’ll signal for you to lock down the crew berths. That should catch most of the remaining crew. It should not take much to mop up the few stragglers. Remember, we are on a tight schedule, and there is much more to do before we can claim success. Get going.”

  As the two men left the bridge at a run, a small com unit on the leader’s belt buzzed for attention. He answered and listened to the caller. He turned to the others, “Weapons control has fallen to us. The ship’s guns are now in our hands. You all know what comes next, get to your posts.” The remaining three mutineers quickly manned the duty stations critical to maintaining the ships normal functions. The leader waited for the signal confirming that the Righteous Fist was also under their control. If all went as planned, the Light Saber would remain unaware of the takeover of its two escorts until it was too late.

  CHAPTER 23

  Sharné was preparing to tell Owens the fictional story explaining Golstar’s request when she was interrupted. First, claxons sounded in the distance, and then a deep booming sound reverberated throughout the ship. Other claxons joined a cacophony of rising noise. The teacup on the now quivering table rattled noisily on its saucer and they could feel the vibration through the deck beneath them. The lights dimmed for a moment then returned to normal brightness. The alarms went silent.

  They looked at each other in bewilderment and waited, intently listening for another sound. Nothing further happened for a few seconds then another rattling boom, louder and more intense than before, reverberated off the bulkheads. The lights again dimmed, began to flicker and were finally extinguished altogether. Blue emergency lights immediately came on. All color was leached from their faces and surroundings from the weak glow. They appeared as two pale ghosts sitting across from one another, both rendered mute in states of momentary uncertainty.

  Meteorite strikes? Owens immediately wondered. He couldn’t tell having never personally encountered one. Perhaps the shields somehow failed when some space debris hit, he contemplated. He felt his heart-rate rise and a too-familiar heat-flush of adrenalin coursed through his body. Or was it another attack? Who would risk an attack against a Golstar ship? Before he could take the thought any further, an intercom crackled to life and he, along with Sharné strained to hear what was being said.

  Though distorted, a woman’s authoritative voice filled the air. “This is the captain. We are under attack. I repeat that we are under attack. The Righteous Fist and Light Avenger have apparently been taken over by unknown hostiles and are now discharging capital class weapons against the Light Saber.” This last was said with an underlying tone of incredulity.

  “We have already taken considerable damage. Our maneuvering thrusters and subspace emitter apertures were struck before we were able to get our full shields up. Repair crews are still attempting to assess the damage. I must report that thus far, all indications point to significant, if not catastrophic systems impairments. We are now returning fire. However, the ships are attacking in tandem and their combined firepower will inevitably take its toll if the Light Saber cannot get underway. In that event, they will penetrate our shields long before we can breach theirs.”

  The captain paused, as if reluctant to go on. “We are returning fire and I vow that we will make an accounting of ourselves.” This last was said with grim determination. The sound of the Saber’s weapons returning fire could be heard over the intercom and drowned out what the captain said next.

  Sharné’s expression went from surprise to shock. Her hands balled into white knuckled fists lying impotently in her lap. She remained mute, not knowing what to do, or what to say; inside she was staggered by the total unexpectedness of the attack. As she tried to comprehend what was happening, she was momentarily insulated from the noise building around her. Her mind stubbornly resisted the meaning of the captain’s words. Their own escort ships had turned on them and attacked the Light Saber? It was unthinkable.

  She desperately tried to cope with the catastrophe, but instead questions flooded her thoughts. Inexplicably, one of her last discussions with her father came to mind. Had he so underestimated the zeal of his opponents? How could supporters of the opposition now openly turn against them? Why? The meaning of the captain’s announcement struggled to break through her rejection.

  The harsh booming sounds continued unabated and slowly reasserted themselves in her consciousness. The vibrations set her teeth on edge and added emphasis to the captain’s message. The captain’s words continued to repeat over and over in her mind, and Sharné found she could no longer dismiss them. They were now under attack, under attack by their own ships.

  She felt like screaming. How could those aboard the attacking ships be so blind? The proof was before them. Every time they went out in public; every time they worshiped, the facts presented themselves for anyone with eyes to see. But no, they were blind. They were blind by choice. They refused to see and would not acknowledge the breadth of the problem; that it could not be solved without help, help from the outside. They were so sure in their belief, that they were willing to risk their very civilization.

  The shock quickly turned to bitterness and anger. Was this the beginning of the great civil war her father had feared, Golstar citizen raising arms against Golstar citizen? Did the enlightenment of the Way now mean nothing? These questions swirled in her mind and continued to distract her from their i
mmediate danger. It didn’t seem possible this could be happening; that her people could be turning on themselves like this, and in doing so, ignoring that they were damning their future.

  For the first time, she truly understood the danger to her people and the possibility that Golstar’s hope for survival could be extinguished with a single devastating blow. Denying the crises her father fought so hard to remedy, the opposition wanted to remain isolated, mistaken in their confidence that any problem could be solved internally. Golstar’s borders would remain sealed along with its fate. The bright future illuminated by the Way could very well darken and the blackness of despair would gradually envelope their once proud people.

  Owens shifted slightly in his seat; his movement caught her eye and startled her out of her reverie. Her thoughts began to reemerge to their present situation. She had momentarily forgotten about Owens. She had been blindly staring before, but now she looked at him, registering his presence.

  Unaware of her inner turmoil, Owens was looking back at her, waiting. He did not say a word. She was surprised by his apparent composure and was immediately drawn to his eyes. He sat patiently; his eyes steady and gazing directly into hers. An unbidden thought came to her. What could he be thinking? Why had he not reacted? Precious seconds passed as she continued to gaze at him, she sat frozen as the ship shuddered around her in protest from the latest salvo. In spite of the noise of their situation clamoring for her attention, her eyes remained fixed on him.