The path she traveled gradually widened and approaching on her left was a graduated series of steps leading up to a massive white building. Had she chosen to pause and look toward the entrance, she would have seen a man and a woman framed in the large, open entryway. Had she looked a little closer, she would have also observed that the man held the woman protectively and had she taken the time, she could not have helped but notice that both the man and the woman’s faces were streaked with tears.
Behind the couple, through the open doors and expansive hallway of the medical building, she might have received a momentary glimpse of giant mechanisms reflecting light from the brightly lit interior of the building. However, had she stopped and observed all of these things, she would not have been in the least surprised.
Blind to the small tableau taking place above her, she looked neither right nor left but walked rapidly across the entryway; her persona of a rushed civil servant firmly intact. Her purposeful strides carried her quickly away from the distressed man and woman. She would make it to the gathering place well before the meeting was scheduled to begin.
● ● ●
The Guardian of the Way waited patiently to be admitted to the Grand Council meeting chambers. As he waited, he reviewed the current status of the rescue mission. The ships he had dispatched to Selane were red-lining their drive engines and making reasonable progress, but it would still take almost two day-cycles to reach the area. He, along with the Grand Patriarch, had received new intelligence that had lightened their heavy hearts. The latest information had provided an almost unthinkable scenario; the two Golstar ships escorting the Light Saber had been taken over by an unknown faction and had attacked and destroyed the Light Saber.
However, incredibly, the data also revealed the outsider’s ship had somehow escaped. Owens’ tiny ship was now being pursued by one of the two attacking ships. Military intelligence could not explain why the investigator’s ship did not immediately head out of the system to escape into subspace. The Grand Patriarch was gratified to be informed that the outsider ship’s normal-space capability seemed at least a match to that of the Golstar pursuer. Thus far, Owens’ ship maintained a reasonable lead. Thankfully, the Golstar ship was not able to close the distance to weapons range.
Still, the Guardian of the Way was troubled. Knowing the outsider’s ship appeared equal in any way to a Golstar ship was a great concern to Talin. Should the outsider somehow escape back to the Confederated Planets and tell the story of how his ship escaped a Golstar ship, the consequences for such a disclosure were profound. Yet his leader seemed oblivious to this and Talin was dismayed by the Grand Patriarch’s dogged persistence to continue with the plan in spite of all the recent setbacks. The Grand Patriarch refused to be swayed in his belief Owens was the key to the solution to their dilemma and he ignored any impediment to that tenet.
His thoughts turned back to the desperate chase that must be going on between the attackers and Owens. That the outsider’s ship headed to Selane rather than Berralton had at first confused Talin and the Grand Patriarch. They discussed Owens’ decision to go there instead of Berralton. Owens could not have known about the political uncertainties Golstar was experiencing. Logic indicated his ship would take the shortest route to a populated planet. Assuming his scanning capabilities were on-par with what was known of Confederated Planets level of technology. Owens’ ship should have made for Berralton. However, instead of heading inward, towards the solar systems’ populated center, he had aimed his ship for the unpopulated planet of Selane, which required some extensive navigational computations and an unnecessary expenditure of fuel.
In making such a major course change from his original flight-path from the Light Saber, his decision was puzzling at first. He could have no first-hand knowledge of the planet or assume that a rescue mission was on its way. No, they concluded, he had to have made his decision with help, from someone with inside information. They believed that information could have come only from Sharné.
Isolated from the rest of the Saber’s crew, she was the outsider’s sole interface on board. Only she would possess the knowledge that would support the logic behind such a decision. Of course, it was still possible Owens had decided to make for Selane out of pure chance. Nevertheless, in light of the abrupt alteration from the original course heading, it seemed a very real possibility that Sharné could be alive, thank the Founder.
He was suddenly brought back to the present when the huge doors to the chambers began to open ponderously. The Secretary of Protocol stood centered in the widening gap. The Secretary of Protocol was small of stature and seemed on the verge of being swallowed up by his flowing robes. He bowed graciously to Talin.
“Greetings Guardian,” his voice was surprisingly husky. “May the Light of the Way illuminate your path.”
Talin acknowledged the bow with a brisk nod. “And may the path you choose, be the Way of true enlightenment.”
Without another word, the Secretary of Protocol led Talin to his customary seat, just below and to the right of the raised chair of the Grand Patriarch. The leader of Golstar would be the last to enter. As Talin settled into the chair waiting for the others to arrive, he stifled a sigh. He hated these special sessions. As far he was concerned, they were a complete waste of time.
He wanted to get back to his office and monitor the fleet’s progress, but he was obligated to attend this archaic proceeding. Of late, nothing ever seemed to be truly accomplished by these meetings. Instead of raising and addressing real problems, these sessions were more often than not used as forums to further one politician’s pet project or another.
Resignedly, he scanned the room. The members of the Grand Council continued to enter the chambers and the tiers of seats gradually filled. Occasionally, his eyes would turn toward Minister Joselé's seat. As he expected, it remained empty. So far, the woman had eluded the citywide search. He was not particularly surprised. The city was large and his security forces were stretched extremely thin.
The noise of conversation had gradually increased in the vaulted chambers, and soon most of the seats were filled. The Secretary of Protocol stood and the room abruptly quieted. The Secretary of Protocol looked pointedly at a last straggler heading for her seat. Once the latecomer sat down, the Secretary of Protocol announced the Grand Patriarch. All stood while the leader of Golstar made his way from the center aisle to the elevated platform and the large ornate chair that dominated the room. He reached the chair and turned around, standing before the assembled Ministers.
He looked up at the large white globe suspended high above the Ministers' heads. All the officials followed their leader’s example and their heads tilted back, reverently looking up at the bright orb. Then, as was customary, the Grand Patriarch led them in the Founder’s Prayer. With the final word of the familiar blessing still echoing off the tall walls, the Grand Patriarch sat down. The sea of Ministers quickly followed suit, sitting down in uneven waves.
The last Minister took his seat, and the Grand Patriarch looked over to the Secretary of Protocol, who then immediately announced the brief agenda. He finished by saying, “Minister Calder has requested this special session.” He looked toward the Grand Patriarch, who gave a slight nod. He turned back to the assembly and said, “Minister Calder now is recognized and will have the floor.”
Talin suppressed a groan, not Calder again. The man seemed bent on calling for these special sessions to air his complaints. He never proposed solutions of his own, but simply voiced his grievances to show his constituents he was dutifully performing his duties. Talin had not known him to author a single original idea. Instead, he depended on others to propose remedies for his grievances. As with the majority of the ministers, he was not chosen by popular consensus, he had inherited his position.
A man rose from the front row and straightened his robes. His thick, sandy hair was carefully combed straight back from his sloping forehead. His deep-set eyes were almost hidden beneath his prominent brow. He
removed a small sheaf of hard copy from a battered leather satchel, placed the empty case on his seat and then strode with measured dignity to the dais that stood to the left of the platform. He took his place behind the carved stone podium and looked up to the Grand Patriarch. “With your leave I shall begin my address."
The Grand Patriarch smiled and said, “This assembly awaits you Minister, please proceed.”
Calder turned toward the sea of faces. Their expressions ranged from mild interest to open boredom. Ignoring the lack of responsiveness from his audience, he began in a practiced voice to decry the deterioration of the birthing facilities in the northern cities of his sector.
As his voice began to drone, Talin allowed his thoughts to drift back to Owens’ current situation. The man had been phenomenally fortunate thus far. Talin was amazed by his survival. Owens should have died a number of times, and Talin would not have wept at his demise. However, now that Owens’ fate appeared linked to Sharné’s survival, he was forced to hope the outsider continued his incredible streak of luck.
CHAPTER 32
Sharné sat alone in her quarters. She had just put on the survival suit Owens had provided her. Before leaving her, he told her his ship had been provisioned by his government and had been pleasantly surprised when Hec came up with the survival suits from the ship’s inventory. He said the suits were an unexpected gift; they were not something the Holmes normally carried. The suits would keep them warm and dry and might provide the tiny edge they needed to survive.
When he handed the one-piece garment over to her, she had found it heavy and was disappointed by its size. She commented to Owens that it would fit someone twice her mass. He only shook his head and smiled. He pointed to a narrow metal band at the end of one of the survival suit’s cuffs. He told her that after she put it on, to press the small button labeled with the numeral one. She was about to ask for an explanation, but Hec took that time to announce they were getting close to Selane, and Owens quickly excused himself and headed for the bridge.
After he left, she looked at the lumpy suit lying on the bed. She saw that its elbow and knee areas were reinforced with a material of a darker color. It looked even bigger spread out on the bed. Sighing she struggled to put it on, and after managing to seal the front closure, dutifully pressed the small button with the number one engraved on its surface.
To her surprise, the suit immediately began to change its shape. It happened so fast she barely had time to emit a small, startled yelp. The suit’s fabric lengthened and shortened in various places, conforming itself into the general length and shape of her arms, legs and torso. It was self-fitting and had only taken a few moments to adjust to her size. She was grateful she would not be forced to roll up the sleeves and pant legs as she had with the bulky jumpsuit.
Although she had expected it to be heavy, now that she had it on it seemed much lighter than before. She looked down at the deck and considered the set of trail boots that Owens had thoughtfully provided her. She wondered if they might also be self-sizing. She had lost her shoes during their escape from the Light Saber and would definitely need something to protect her feet. She gingerly tried them on and found them to be of the ordinary variety. The boots were a little large but with a little extra padding, it appeared that they would be serviceable.
She sat down in the room’s only chair. She shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. The suit was made of a tough, breathable fabric. It had numerous pockets filled with all sorts of survival gear, including a med kit, a small water purifier and a number of items that were completely foreign to her. The somewhat stiff, lumpy garment made it difficult to be completely comfortable. She finally moved from the chair to the softer bed. A little more relaxed, she took off the boots and sat on the bed with her feet curled under her.
Sitting there, her thoughts wandered back to her last conversation with Owens. She thought about their discussion again and was painfully reminded of her loss of composure. She shook her head ruefully. It was not her nature to react impulsively, yet she had done so with Owens and on more than one occasion. She could not understand her recent rash behavior. She was well versed in dealing with grave matters of state. Looking back, neither Owens’ actions nor his revelations should have triggered such outbursts, but they had, for some strange and unexpected reason they had.
Her father trusted her and through that trust, he had given her this enormous responsibility. She was, after all, the Keeper of the Way. In assuming that role, she worked diligently to be the best. In performing her official duties, she carefully considered each issue brought before her. She was not unfamiliar in dealing with people of diverse politics or positions that tested the Founder's teachings.
Stressful situations and uncomfortable subject matters were often raised for her evaluation, advice and sometimes recommendations. She never shirked these duties and took a measure of pride in her demonstrable successes. Such were the burdens and rewards of her office. Over time, though relatively young for such an important position, she established her competence and her authority became unquestioned. She had more than proven herself capable.
However, now her usual control seemed to slip at unexpected times, and afterward, she was never quite sure of the cause. Lately, in her talks with Owens, her normal calm demeanor and thoughtful consideration had been supplanted by unbidden emotion. She found herself reacting, her anger flaring then smothering, crowding out any rational thought. She admitted to herself that while Owens’ words were sometimes unpleasant to hear, they should never have triggered such a strong reaction within her.
She had to wonder at what was happening; maybe something was wrong with her. Her thinking and behavior seemed to deteriorate along with their situation. She unconsciously clenched her fists as an unfamiliar feeling of helplessness grew. She had become unfocused and often found herself wandering from one subject to another. It was difficult for her to stay on point, unless she was angry. Oddly, it seemed it was her anger that allowed her to focus her thoughts. She began to feel panic. What was happening to her?
A sense of isolation grew within her. She missed the comfort, the sense of community and renewal of purpose that Service provided. Service was a means to ground oneself and embrace a feeling of worth and contentment. The tenets of the Founder provided guidance and clarity. After Service, her purpose was always clear, her faith reaffirmed. But now she realized she had not felt that way for some time. Could that be part of the problem? She had attended Service on the Light Saber but instead of feeling comforted, she had come away feeling empty, somehow unfulfilled. That had never happened to her before.
She thought about the small chapel aboard the Light Saber and recalled her initial disappointment on finding it in deplorable condition. In the rush to get the ship space-worthy, the chapel had been overlooked, neglected. It was in total disarray. Seats and fixtures had been removed sometime in the distant past, possibly when the ship was first removed from active duty. She assumed it was to make room for the storage containers that were stacked to the ceiling. Sharné had been forced to commandeer furniture from other parts of the ship and directed the captain to have the containers stored elsewhere.
The chapel’s small light globe was also found to be inoperative and although the on-board technicians tried their best, they could not get the tiny reactor working again. The symbol of their faith would remain dark. In spite of this, she managed to hold daily Services until Owens came aboard. Now looking back, she realized that the Service held aboard ship had not afforded her the same comfort and guidance as it had on Berralton.
Another troubling thought then came to her. Could it be possible she was becoming physically ill? Now of all times, she could not afford to be sick. They would soon be making planet-fall and she could not be a burden to Owens. She prayed she was not truly ill. Founder forgive her, it dawned on her that she had not prayed since the attack. She immediately fell to her knees and began to pray, in earnest, for forgiveness and guidance. She was di
sappointed but not surprised that her prayers went unanswered.
CHAPTER 33
Brant Linden had assumed leadership aboard the Light Avenger. He had been a first unit sub-commander of the Crimson Blade marine battalion before joining the mutiny. He now stood behind a thick-set woman sitting at the ship’s master communications console. They were both staring at the gray, inactive screen prominently centered on the console. The woman, a fellow mutineer who had been the ship’s engine technician before being assigned to communications, shrugged her beefy shoulders. In a tired voice she said, “There is still no response from the Colonel.” They had sent their current situation to the Colonel some time before, and waited for a reply. Maybe the Colonel was not in a position to respond, but it was curious.
“I am not especially surprised,” Linden said. “His last order was quite clear, ‘pursue and terminate.’ And that is exactly what we are now doing.”
The woman’s face was taut with tension. Her mannish countenance was further enhanced by the prominent dark circles beneath her troubled eyes. She turned and looked at him, “That was before we lost so much ground. The enemy ship has maintained a sizable lead, which was certainly not expected. The Colonel’s guidance in this situation would be welcome.”
“Admittedly, that Confederated bastard has given us one surprise after another, but his good luck is nearing its end. I grant you that it would have been fortuitous if the Colonel had anticipated such an event and had reinforcements already on the way.” Linden scowled. “But our long-range scanners are off-line, so we have no way of knowing.”
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