Shadows of Golstar

by Terrence Scott

  The General was incredulous and vainly tried to stand but only managed to raise himself a few inches off the seat when he experienced a sudden wave of weakness. His strength deserted him, and he collapsed limply back onto the chair.

  “Oh, I am sorry. I forgot to mention the poison also causes acute weakness and a general numbing of the limbs,” the Leader said in a casual manner then nodded as if in satisfaction. “Yes, yes I see its symptoms are progressing quite nicely.”

  “Why, why would you do this… to me? I am loyal. You, of all, know I am devoted to you and the cause,” the General croaked. His throat was raw and each word caused a grinding, sharp pain.

  “Loyal? You? I might define loyalty a bit differently. Yes, in fact, very differently. Your recent actions do not support your claims of loyalty, no, in fact, quite the opposite.” The Leader leaned forward in obvious growing agitation, “To take upon yourself such rash and drastic unilateral measures without consultation with your Leader does not reflect what I perceive as loyalty. No, no, not at all; indeed, your reckless disregard for this leadership and authority has not aided, but has, in fact, jeopardized our cause!”

  The leader’s synthesized voice grew in volume. “You are a complete fool! The Grand Patriarch now has no choice but to act in the defense of his daughter and mobilize resources he was heretofore reluctant to engage!” The synthesizer struggled to convert Leader’s voice, which was rising to a deafening volume. The words became distorted, and it was difficult for the General’s poison-hazed mind to comprehend.

  The Leader rose and began to pace with increasing agitation, robes swirling. “Am I not the Leader? Does not the very title of Leader self-define its purpose? As an officer of the military, do you not recognize this most basic of concepts? Yes? And yet you chose to ignore this fundamental principle. You of all people, a man supposedly steeped in military history, protocol and procedure, chose to ignore the rightful chain of command!”

  The truth of the Leader’s words battered against the General’s carefully constructed rationalizations, but he was distracted as he was finding it harder to breathe, struggling for each precious gulp of air. Painful metal bands seemed to encircle his chest, becoming tighter with each forced inhalation. He tried again to concentrate on the Leader’s words and gasped out a futile lie, “I did it for you, for our people. I did it to preserve our Way.”

  “No, you did not! No, you and I know you did it for yourself alone, for your incredibly inflated ego!” the Leader slammed a gloved fist on the table.

  The General struggled to respond and managed to say, “No, you are mistaken…” He gasped for breath, but before he could form his next words, the Leader pounded the table again.

  “You are dying yet you still persist in your lies! You had no real conviction outside your own ambition and your petty need for revenge against those who were promoted over you. Is that not the truth? Did you actually think I would not know of this? It was this weakness that I exploited. Even so, your faults have now exceeded even my expectations. Your ambition consumes you and blinds what precious little intellect you possess.”

  The synthesized voice thundered, “You thought only to advance yourself, adorn yourself with the glitter and trappings of power! You are an egotistical ass! Did you truly believe I would endorse your maverick actions?!” There was a crackling and the voice synthesizer abruptly squealed and fell silent.

  The Leader paused then resumed in a calmer, now-undisguised voice, “Had you bothered to discuss your plans with me, you would have been told the Keeper of the Way was personally participating as a diplomat and receiving the accursed outsider at the rendezvous location. You fail to recognize the Keeper of the Way is beloved by our people. Her popularity could have worked in our favor.”

  “I would have gone on to enlighten you in regard to my plan; to retain her as a figurehead for the interim government as we consolidated our power out of the public eye. This would have facilitated an orderly reintegration, a return to traditional beliefs and minimized the possibility of backlash from the general populace. This, of course, runs counter to your glib dismissal of the Keeper of the Way and the glee you expressed in contemplating her demise.”

  The Leader stopped pacing and stood, looking down at the gasping military man. “But back to your original question, you asked me why. Why would I eliminate you? In case it is not now self-evident to your feeble mind, then I shall tell you in simple terms in order to make sure you understand before you finally die.”

  The Leader bent closer, “With this final act, you have far exceeded your usefulness. You are now only a detriment, a cancer festering in the side of our righteous cause and must be exorcised before you can inflict further damage. And I? Why I am the appointed surgeon and I have made certain the contagion will not spread.” The Leader straightened, pulled off the mask, threw back the hood and grinned widely at the General.

  The General blearily recognized the undisguised voice and now revealed face of the Leader, but he could not make the extra effort to acknowledge the Leader’s identity. He was not sure he would have the breath to speak in response to the tirade but attempted it anyway. His head was becoming so heavy, and he struggled to keep it up. “You. You are… you cannot…” he coughed and blood spattered the front of his tunic. “There will be a military inquir…” Gasping, he could not finish. He could feel himself weakening.

  The smile faded and the Leader looked at him critically, “Were you trying to say a military inquiry? If so, I can assure it will be minimal. The Leader looked up at an antique timepiece hanging on the wall and said with mock sympathy, “You do not have much time remaining. However, before you pass into the darkness of blasphemy, you might be interested in this.”

  The Leader bent down near the General and held a sheet of paper before the dying man's eyes. The General could barely focus but did just make out his own signature. The Leader saw a faint glint of recognition in the dying man’s eyes. “Yes, Colonel, it is your signature. It is part of the requisition you just signed. I knew that you would not bother to look at the last page. Oh, I am sorry; you do appear to be having some trouble seeing it. I will tell you of it instead. It is a simple statement really. It describes your dissatisfaction with the military and your social status; how you lost your zeal and intend to end your miserable life.”

  Fighting for the last of his breath, the General reached forward as if in supplication. The Leader quickly placed the suicide note in the General’s hand. The General’s vision lost the last of its clarity. Images faded to indistinct gray shadows. At the same time, his fear and pain mercifully receded. Then a bright, blinding light appeared and enveloped him in its warm peaceful embrace, blotting out his last thought.

  The Leader watched dispassionately as the General convulsed, dark blood now flowed freely from his nostrils and mouth. His hand closed involuntarily on the note as his muscles began to spasm, crumpling it. The General’s arm dropped, still clutching the note; his face, no longer reflecting agony, relaxed and was now almost peaceful. With the tension of pain released from his expression, he appeared younger. After another moment, his head fell forward as the final thread in the tapestry of his life was severed.

  The Leader lifted the General’s head and for a long moment looked into the lifeless eyes. Satisfied the poison had completed its work, the Leader allowed the head to drop back onto the dead man’s chest.

  The Leader picked up the untainted drink, drained it in a single swallow and then placed the empty tumbler in an inner pocket of the hooded robe. With gloved hands, the Leader removed the vial of poison from another pocket and rolled it in the General’s open hand and placed it on the table next to the poisoned drink. The leader looked down at the lifeless figure one last time and said, “ Truly. I should have removed you earlier, but you did have your uses.” The Leader replaced the mask and hood, turned and left the room.

  CHAPTER 28

  “Boss? Boss, it’s time,” Hec quietly announced, “wake up.”

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nbsp; Owens slowly opened his eyes and yawned. He hadn’t expected to sleep so soundly. He sat up slowly and carefully stretched his arms, paying special attention to his injured shoulder. There was a slight pulling sensation with only a hint of the sore stiffness he had experienced earlier. He rotated his shoulder without too much pain. He was satisfied with his progress.

  “How do you feel?” Hec asked. “The medical recovery capsule left a message you’re due for a second dose of speed-heal.”

  “Actually, surprisingly good,” Owens yawned again. “I’ll go ahead and take it now.”

  He stood up and went over to the med cabinet, fumbling with the door catch. He removed a small clear plastic vial with a shiny, self-injector head attached at one end. He gently shook it and the blue liquid medication swirled. Satisfied, he thumbed off the end-seal from the injector head and placed the injector just above his navel. He firmly pushed it into his flesh. There was a barely discernible buzz as the injector delivered the speed-heal subcutaneously.

  He said, “Damn, that’s cold.” He tossed the spent injector on the bed and felt a momentary wave of nausea, a normal side-effect of the injection. He paused and grimaced, caught between a gag and another yawn. Lucky for him the yawn finally won out. As his reaction to the medicine began to fade, Owens asked, “Six hours already?”

  “Just about, I woke you a little early,” Hec answered. “We still have about ten more hours flight time remaining until we make Selane’s orbit, but I thought you would want to know we’re finally approaching the Golstar satellite defense grid. I’ve already awakened Sharné. She’s freshening up and will meet you in the bridge.”

  “I could use a shower myself. I have time?

  “Plenty of time,” Hec answered.

  As Owens shed his underclothing, he asked, “Any change relating to our friends following us?”

  “I swear, one of these days you’re going to hurt my feelings, Boss. You should know by now that I would have told you immediately had there been anything for you to be concerned about.”

  “Does that mean no?” Owens pressed. He was beginning to understand ‘Hec-speak.’

  “Well, kind of,” Hec managed to sound sheepish. “There have been some minor fluctuations in our relative positions, but we continue to maintain a more than comfortable lead. I’ll explain everything in more detail once you’re in the bridge. Trust me, everything is well under control. Now go ahead and take your shower. You don’t want to offend Sharné.”

  Owens muttered, “Everything I think about lately has to do with trying not to offend Sharné.”

  “Well, she is a woman,” Hec said, as if that explained everything.

  “That she is,” Owens shook his head and entered the small shower stall. He sighed as the warm water needled his skin. The water’s heat infused his muscles, relaxing them. An old-fashioned water-shower always refreshed him and left him feeling cleaner than had he used the ultrasonic cleaner cabinet that was sitting next to the stall. He reserved the cleaner cabinet only for emergencies, in the event the water recycler broke down, which fortunately hadn’t happened since he refitted the ship.

  As he lathered up, he called out over the sound of the water spray, “Hey, I do trust you Hec, but with our lives hanging in the balance, I need constant reassurance. Call me insecure if you want, but that won’t keep me from asking again.”

  Hec didn’t respond. Owens didn’t bother to pursue it any further right then, and began to wash his hair. He didn’t linger as he normally did and instead quickly finished his shower, depilated, put on underwear, donned his spare gravity harness and pulled on a clean jumpsuit.

  Arriving in the bridge, he found Sharné already there standing, dressed in one of the spare jumpsuits he had stored in the wardrobe in the guest quarters. Her hair was still damp from her own shower and pulled back into a thick ponytail. He noted with interest that the baggy jumpsuit could not disguise her femininity. However, as he continued to gaze at her, with the oversized jumpsuit’s sleeves rolled up to her elbows and pants legs rolled up just covering her ankles, she looked very young and vulnerable.

  So many contrasts, he thought. She was beautiful, commanding, intelligent, and a government official, not to mention that she could be highly irritating at times. He knew nothing of her background, culture or her marital status or even if her people even practiced the ancient ritual of marriage.

  Not aware of his appraisal, Sharné looked intently at the holo-screen, absently brushing back loose strands of hair that had fallen over her ears. He pulled his attention away from Sharné and looked at the floating display. He was mildly surprised that instead of showing the position of the pursuing ship as he had expected, the tactical grid cube on the holo-screen had been replaced with the navigation plotting screen, which now displayed a three-dimensional representation of the Golstar system.

  The progressive, spherical grids that overlaid the display with coordinate registrations lacked their usual sharpness, and a number of areas appeared indistinct, almost blurred. He looked closer and saw there was a mass of pinpoint blips blanketing the image nearly to the point of masking the network of grid lines. To Owens, it looked to be a shiny network of tiny stars that permeated the entire system.

  He asked Hec, “That’s the defense grid?”

  “That’s it, Boss. It’s why I woke the both of you a little early. We’re nearing the outer perimeter of the satellite grid or net as Sharné refers to it. As close as I can tell, it’s not as large as the historical records indicate, but it’s still huge. Other than the size, it appears pretty much as they described it in your briefings and backed up in the ship’s library files. There are thousands of them in our immediate sensor range. The net must comprise millions of the nasty little buggers. Sharné thinks that we’ll be within the net’s detection field within an hour or so at our present velocity.”

  Owens turned from the holo-display back to Sharné and said carefully, “This question may be a bit belated, but exactly how do we approach the net? You said earlier you have a way around it, and at the time I accepted that without question. Now with a little rest behind me, it’s clear I wasn’t exactly at my best. Had I been thinking a little clearer, I think I might have pressed you for a little more detail when you first mentioned it.”

  He sighed; clear thinking hadn’t exactly been his hallmark lately. “I wish I had thought to bring this up earlier.” He paused for a beat. “I’m hoping your safe passage doesn’t rely on significant course changes. With the Golstar ship hot on our tail, I don’t want to reduce our speed any more than we already have to.” He added, “Without that safe passage, if what I’ve been told by my government is true, we wouldn’t stand a chance in hell of surviving the orbiting fortresses’ reaction to an unannounced entry into Golstar territory.”

  Sharné looked at him with some assurance, “Normally that would certainly be the case. The defense net does provide a very effective barrier against intrusion into our territory, but as I intimated earlier, I am quite prepared for it. I will admit that at the time, I too was not thinking as coherently as I might. I should have explained further. No drastic course changes should be necessary. What I propose, is to disable the net temporarily.” When Sharné had first realized their entry into the Golstar system would be via Owens’ ship rather than the Light Saber, she had readied an answer for this moment.

  The solution involved yet another lie, and she regretted having to employ it, but could see no other choice. She knew the lies were necessary, but she was unsure as to how long she could maintain the charade. She wasn’t an experienced liar and wondered if Owens, with his background, would eventually penetrate her deceit.

  She turned her head away from the display and looked at Owens directly, “As a result of the defense net’s current state of upgrade, Hec should be able find relative clear pathways and course changes should be minimal. As to safe passage, amazingly enough I was given some instruction on how to deal with the defense net. I confess I’m no expert on the net
, but I did receive a thorough briefing and some key information in the case of certain… ah, contingencies.”

  Outwardly, she conveyed calm assurance; inside, her stomach was fluttering. She asked Owens with what she hoped was in a confident tone of voice, “With your permission, I now need to ask Hec some questions.”

  “Go ahead, we’re in your hands now,” he said to Sharné. To Hec, “Please, answer all of her questions.”

  “Thank you. Hec, can you use the ship’s laser weapons as a signaling device? I mean to say, do your lasers have a focusing capability; can you defocus the emitter so that it can become a signaling device rather than a destructive beam?” Sharné asked.

  Hec immediately responded, “Yes, that can be done easily. By their design, the burst lasers use a variable focus technology to adjust for changing target distances. For your purpose, all I have to do is set them into the maintenance mode for aperture calibration.”

  She said, “Then please set the weapons into the maintenance mode.”

  “Do it,” Owens said.

  “Done,” Hec immediately responded.

  Sharné asked, “Can you set the apertures in the emitters so that they’ll transmit a flash with about a ten degree spread when we are at around fifty kilometers from the net?”

  “Best I can do is a little more than eight degrees.”

  She nodded, “That should be sufficient, Hec.”

  "The apertures are set. One minute, thirty seconds to the fifty kilometer mark.” Hec announced. Green digits appeared to float in the center of the bridge and began to countdown.