Shadows of Golstar

by Terrence Scott

  It has to be him, Linden thought. It must be some sort of device the dark-bringer used to communicate with his ship. This was it! Fortune turned in Linden’s favor. The enemy may have finally made a fortuitous mistake. “Land as close to the source of the signal as you possibly can,” he directed the pilot. “How long before we arrive at the site?”

  The pilot shrugged, “It appears to be coming from a thickly wooded area to the south of our current position. I will be forced to circle, using a spiral approach in order to home in on the approximate location of the source. It only will take a few minutes, perhaps a little longer. You understand the area from where the signal originates may not have sufficient space to land this shuttle. Other than it appears to be heavily forested, I cannot tell you the exact nature of terrain because the landing-assist scanner is not calibrated for that type of data. Like most of the instruments on this deathtrap, it is only marginally functional.” He paused as the ship shuddered for a moment. Then he said, “And we are still too far away a visual confirmation.”

  Linden replied, harshly, “When I desire negative comments, I will issue them myself. Perform your duty and leave the side comments to me.”

  The pilot nodded angrily and said nothing further.

  Everything since the mutiny seemed to fight him. “Just get us down as close as you can to the signal’s source and do it quickly.” Linden turned in his seat and began giving terse orders to his men.

  ● ● ●

  Owens leapt to his feet, drawing his gun. As he ran toward the clump thick of vegetation, his mind raced. Was it was the mutineers? In spite of all their precautions, had they somehow tracked them down? Could he have miscalculated their lead that badly or had Sharné been mistaken? Would it turn out that the mutineers did possess a tracking capability? Immediately, another thought struck him that was even more unpleasant than the last.

  Could it be one of the Guardians? Had their presence somehow reactivated one? He imagined it gliding forward, bristling with weapons extended from now-opened gun ports. He felt the side-arm tightly gripped in his hand. He had left the mini-rail rifle back with their backpacks, not that he thought the weapon would have any effect on a Guardian’s thick armored skin. He felt another rush of adrenalin as his mind imagined the worst. His boots pounded the uneven ground as he increased his gait to a full run and quickly spanned the distance, reaching the edge of the vegetation.

  He dropped to the ground and began to crawl forward as rapidly as he could, into the heavy foliage. He tried to be quiet, but he was forced to bull his way through the thick brush. Leaves and twigs crackled with his passage. He abandoned any hope of a stealthy approach and rose quickly, bursting from the dense bushes.

  He immediately spotted Sharné. She was standing with her back against a large tree in a small clearing. Ringed about ten meters in front of her, were five animals. Finding his earlier fears unfounded, he felt a momentary sense of relief. Instead of mutineers or metal monsters, what he saw were the bear-like creatures that Sharné had described to him before. His relief vanished when saw them turning at the noise he had made on his approach. They were now couched down, snarling loudly at the intruder who had momentarily drawn their attention away from their intended quarry.

  He noted they were indeed the size of dogs, but very large dogs. They looked to be well over a hundred pounds each and they did look a little like teddy bears, but their sharp, tooth-filled muzzles with canines at almost two inches long, spoiled the cuddly effect. An errant thought struck him. He could imagine a headline scrolling across the major news media outlets now, ‘Man killed by saber tooth teddy bears, news at eleven.’ With the sound of low menacing growls, that image disappeared as quickly as it came.

  Their growls increased in volume and he saw that the animals were readying for an attack. He raised and fired his weapon at the animal in the center, hoping it was the alpha leader and ran towards the pack, leaping forward and yelling, hoping to startle the group of animals. His aim was true. The creature yelped once and fell forward hitting the ground heavily. Owens landed three meters in front of the downed animal. He hoped to catch them totally by surprise. But the others in the pack, though startled, were quick to recover and sprang for the large human-animal that had disrupted their kill.

  Owens managed to shoot another one before abruptly feinting to the side to avoid a swiping paw. He could hear the loud keening of the wounded animal; he missed a kill shot. Worse still, his move had not been planned and he almost collided into another of the animals that had moved towards him. Before he could react, another set of swiping, sharp claws caught the fabric of his pants leg. With a ripping sound, the tough cloth tore away in ribbons but not before throwing him off from his intended trajectory.

  He hit the ground off-balance and tumbled to the soft floor of the forest. Without pause, he managed to convert the tumble into a controlled roll which carried him away another three meters. He then tried to recover, but he overcompensated and began to fall back in the opposite direction. He fell to the ground again but this time he managed to regain his feet quickly. At the same time, knowing that he had wasted precious time, he began to raise his weapon.

  But before he could bring his gun up, a furry ball of hard muscle, teeth and flashing claws struck him high, in the chest. In reaction, he awkwardly somersaulted backwards and threw the small attacker off, but not before its claws raked across his chest. The shallow, bleeding tracks burned across his skin. But his instinctive response in throwing the animal away from him worked better than expected. The bear, suddenly propelled by Loder-powered muscles, flew through the air in an arc and struck a nearby tree. The predator’s back broke against the solid tree trunk with a loud crack; it fell lifeless, in a boneless heap at its base.

  Owens struggled again to his feet and quickly turned at a hissing sound coming from behind him. Ready for another bruising attack, he was surprised to see two piles of fur lying on the forest floor close by his feet. The animal he had wounded was quickly limping away from its fallen comrades. It rapidly disappeared into the forest. He looked up and saw Sharné shakily lowering her weapon. The hissing sound he had heard was from her weapon’s discharge. Quick thinking, he thought. She hadn’t forgotten about her gun.

  She dropped the dispersal gun and ran to him. She buried her head into his shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He could feel her fast-beating heart. She was quietly sobbing. He said nothing, content just to hold her and wait for her to regain her composure.

  A couple of minutes went by before she finally quieted. She looked at him, her eyes red from crying, her cheeks wet from tears. She was still holding on to him tightly. “I did not see them at first. I must have disturbed them from their sleep. They swarmed out of that,” she pointed at a huge tree stump with a large opening between exposed roots. “At first I was too surprised to be frightened. Then, as they approached me as a pack, I could clearly see their teeth and what they intended. Then I panicked. I think I screamed, I am sorry, but I was afraid.”

  “It’s okay, so was I,” he assured her.

  “I was literally frozen, I could not move. They had appeared so suddenly… with those terrible teeth and claws, I… did not know what to do. I did not mean to scream.”

  “I might have screamed a little myself. With those cute faces and long fangs, they remind me of something out of a nightmare, almost as bad as clowns. But it’s all over now.”

  She hadn’t heard his feeble attempt at humor. She said, “I am ashamed.”

  “You don’t have any reason to be,” he countered. “You did alright. Actually, a lot more than alright, you saved my life.”

  She didn’t seem to have heard him. “And then you appeared, jumping into the middle of them. You could have been killed trying to rescue me.’

  He found himself stroking her hair. “But I wasn’t; I’m still alive, again all thanks to you.”

  She shuddered, “Even so, I was almost too late. I felt paralyzed. It was only when I saw them
coming at you from behind did I finally think to react.”

  “Enough,” he said gently. “You came through when it counted.” Her face was close to his and he was acutely aware of her warm body pressed against his.

  “But what if I had been a little slower?”

  Her nearness was making it difficult for him to concentrate. “Will you please stop berating yourself? The only thing that counts is that you shot the teddies before they got me. All I have to show for whole episode is a little scratch.”

  She suddenly jerked back, disengaging herself from his embrace, “You are hurt? Let me see.”

  He mentally kicked himself. “Sharné, it’s only a scratch. One of the teddies managed to drag a paw across my chest. My suit took the brunt of the damage.”

  Sharné looked at four slits running diagonally across the chest area of his survival suit. Blood stained the area around the torn fabric. She frowned at him and insisted that she be allowed to treat the wounds. She ordered him to sit down and unfasten the top of the suit. He opened the suit and gingerly pulled off the top of the under garment to reveal four shallow cuts about five inches in length on the left side of his chest. The wounds, as Owens indicated, were superficial; there had been some bleeding, but it had quickly subsided.

  “See,” he said, tossing the undergarment on the ground. “It’s only a couple of scratches. You should see the other guy.” He pointed toward the dead animal lying at the base of a large tree.

  “You were fortunate; it could have been much worse.” She frowned looking at his chest, “Now be quiet while I treat the wounds. We do not want them to become infected, sit down.” He sat on a fallen tree trunk and she removed the first-aid kit from one of her suit’s pockets. She sat down next to him, instructed him to turn towards her and began to cleanse the wounds on his exposed chest, dabbing lightly with an antiseptic pad. She then carefully sprayed an antibiotic on each cut.

  “Ouch,” Owens jokingly yelped at the mild stinging. “That’s worse than the injury..."

  She made a face at him, and then finished up by spraying a membrane bandage over the wounds. “That should take care of any further irritation caused by the suit rubbing against your chest,” she said.

  She looked at the bloody top of the undergarment lying on the ground, and then eyed the damage to Owens’ survival suit critically. He held up a hand. “The undershirt is ruined. I’ll have to do without it. But the suit is another matter; it comes with a repair kit. I’ll use the fabric sealer to repair the rips. It’ll be almost as good as new.”

  She nodded, rose to her feet and stepped back. She felt a sudden wave of relief and unexpected elation. She was feeling a little off-balance, but good, nonetheless. She had gone from one end of the emotional spectrum to another in a short span of minutes. She was surprised that instead of feeling drained, she felt strong and vibrant. She experienced intense fear, fear for herself, and then fear for Owens. And following that fear, she remembered the flare of anger she felt when the animals had attacked Owens followed by the sense of triumph when she dispatched the two remaining predators.

  Lastly, she recalled the overwhelming relief she had felt seeing that Owens was alive. Her feeling of relief unexpectedly evolved into something else, something unfamiliar. She puzzled over the indefinable emotion; it was not unpleasant, quite the opposite. It then suddenly dawned on her the anxiety and fear, her constant companions since leaving the Saber, had vanished. She was mildly surprised and gratified that even the troubling thoughts that had plagued her since leaving Berralton had receded, and the doubts she had entertained just before they landed had faded into the background as well.

  She considered, trying to find a word to describe what she was feeling. She knew it was foolish, but she almost felt like laughing. For the very first time, since the ordeal began, she felt that she had truly contributed to their survival. And now she felt refreshed, alive, almost to the point of being giddy. At least for the moment, the heavy trappings that accompanied her responsibilities had fallen away, supplanted by the exhilaration of victory over their most-recent brush with death. The Founder help her, she felt unaccountably high in spirit.

  She saw that Owens was removing the repair kit. She gazed at him and again experienced that other emotion. Though it was unfamiliar, it was still comforting. It warmed her flesh and made heart her heart beat faster. What was happening to her? Was it simple infatuation with an admittedly handsome, mysterious stranger, or the beginning of something deeper? At the moment, she did not seem to care. Impulsively, she bent over him, and looked intently into his eyes.

  He looked up and saw a slightly bemused expression on her face. He wondered what he had done to upset her now. He suppressed a sigh. “What’s wrong?”

  “When you were holding me…” she began.

  Uh oh, he thought. He had crossed over the line. It was one more screw-up by the master diplomat and time to dust off the well-worn apology. “I’m sorry if I…”

  She interrupted him. “I am not asking for an apology, Owens. I am just a little curious. It seemed a moment ago that you wanted to do something… something more than hold me just now, did you not?”

  He gazed up into her eyes. The look was still there. What the hell, he thought and without further hesitation said simply, “Sharné, I’m human, a healthy male and I can’t ignore the fact that you are a strikingly, beautiful woman. I won’t deny I find you distracting. In a good way,” he hastily added. “So my honest answer is yes, another thought did cross my mind.”

  She straightened, still looking down at him. Her bemused look gradually changed and with an impish smile, she said, “Thank you.” And without another word, she walked over to where her weapon lay and retrieved it. She returned and choosing a tree close to Owens, sat down with her back against it, the weapon resting in her lap and waited patiently for Owens to repair his suit.

  CHAPTER 37

  She was glad to be finally rid of the cumbersome disguise. However, the irony that she had simply changed from one disguise to another did not escape her. But at least this one, she thought, did not require the heavy make-up. Besides, had she consciously thought about it, she would have been the first to acknowledge that wearing the cowl and robes of the Preservers of the Way was an honor rather than a burden. She absentmindedly adjusted the mask beneath her hood and glanced at the tiny amber indicator on her gloved hand that gave assurance her voice synthesizer was working.

  Most of the other members were already in attendance with the noted exception being the familiar, imposing presence of the General. His absence would be considered unusual; his normal habit was to be the first to arrive and the last to leave. The meeting chamber buzzed with low pitched conversations. The sound of the droning, synthesized voices resembled the hive-noise of insects rather than the murmurs a group of humans might make. She waited for the side discussions to subside. The sounds of conversation gradually abated. Silence fell like a shroud across the assembled Preservers of the Way.

  The Leader walked up to a raised stone platform. All eyes followed the shrouded figure’s silent progress. The Leader stepped up to the platform, moving behind the dais and without preamble began the Litany of Light. The assembled Preservers repeated the proverbial phrases in response. The Leader finished with the customary blessing and without further ceremony, began a pronouncement. “The enemy has again been attacked and I am saddened to report that the attack failed to eliminate the threat.” There were more than a few sudden intakes of breath.

  Voices from the throng of Preservers began to buzz in reaction. The Leader held up a hand and the noise abruptly died, “This latest attack may come as a surprise to you. I will confess it did to me.” The Leader, now with both clenched into fists, said in a strident voice, “I say to you all this last attack was not sanctioned by the Preservers of the Way! It was planned and carried out in secret by another working outside of our fellowship!”

  Voices again rose in volume, peppered with shouts of dismay and questions regar
ding the identity of the perpetrator.

  The Leader raised gloved hands for quiet and the noise quickly subsided once more. “I will tell you! The one responsible for this attack was a trusted member of our cause, a key participant of the inner circle. He betrayed that sacred trust and far, far exceeded his authority.” The Leader’s hands dropped. “And by doing so, he jeopardized our righteous cause. Duplicity of this magnitude cannot and will not go unpunished! I tell you this and mark it well; this traitor has paid the ultimate price for his arrogance!”

  The Leader’s agitation increased. The dark-gray robes rippled as the Leader began to pace back and forth on the platform, pausing now and again to look at the Preservers below. “Lest anyone else become enamored by their self-worth over that of the noble cause for which we labor, be warned and carefully look to the fate of the traitor for your last reward.”

  “Without proper review, consideration and delegation, no one can act upon their own initiative. Those responsible for any unsanctioned activities will be punished, punished most severely.” The Leader abruptly stopped pacing and lapsed into silence. No one in the meeting chamber dared to speak.

  The quiet was broken by a muffled commotion originating at the back of the assembly. The group of Preservers suddenly parted and a member of the order came forward carrying a small, black velvet pillow. On the pillow were two shiny, glittering objects. The hooded Preserver bowed, assuming the pose of supplication before the Leader. With head still bowed, the Preserver slowly extended the pillow towards the Leader. The Leader reached over and plucked the small metal objects. The Leader held them out, as if they were offensive. The Leader then descended from the platform and proceeded to walk among the membership, pausing to look at each of them, as if taking their measure.