Unfortunately, she had sounded as if it would be some time before they could talk again. In the meantime, he would just continue his own investigation and the powers-that-be, be damned.
They finally stopped and were standing once more before the admiral. Sharné’s eyes locked on the admiral’s. She said, “I am now ready to depart. Please see that Janus Owens is afforded all courtesies. He is, after all a guest, only here because of our request.”
The Admiral bowed, saying nothing.
Sharné nodded to Owens then walked toward the waiting shuttle. Owens saw a tall figure waiting at the end of the ramp. The figure bowed as she approached then led her into the shuttle. The shuttle’s engines began to rumble. He turned and saw the admiral staring at him intently. The admiral’s lips were slightly upturned, hinting at a sneer and Owens could feel the man’s open hostility.
The admiral spoke without preamble. “You will now come with us.” He brought his hand up sharply and two of the uniformed men stepped forward and positioned themselves on either side of Owens. “Know this, I answer only to the Grand Patriarch and the Guardian of the Way,” the Admiral stated pointedly. “You are now under my protection,” his lips pursed, as finding something distasteful in his mouth. “You will obey my instructions and those of my command without question. Is this understood?”
“Perfectly,” Owens’ voice hardened. “But as your Keeper of the Way just pointed out, I am here only because your government sent for me. Since then I have been repeatedly attacked, the latest by two of your own battleships. I am only too happy to let Golstar take charge of security. I sincerely hope you’re up to the task… this time.” Goading an admiral of an enemy nation was probably not the best thing to do under the current circumstances, Owens thought, but he was ‘up-to-here’ with Golstar’s haughty attitudes. Reynaud would have had a heart attack if he had witnessed Owens’ little outburst.
The admiral smiled grimly, and refused to be baited by Owens’ jibe. Without answering, he turned on his heel and began heading back toward the shuttle at a brisk pace. The escort on Owens’ right motioned with a hand that they were to follow the admiral. Owens started after the admiral and suppressed a chuckle as his escorts struggled to match his initial long strides. He quickly slowed his pace so as to not overtake the admiral. His escorts caught up with him and the remainder of the squad fell in behind them.
CHAPTER 43
Hec was becoming impatient. It had been over ten hours, ship’s time, since the second shuttle had risen from the planet’s surface. The second shuttle had taken off minutes earlier than the first and docked with one of the Golstar battleships, which then immediately broke orbit and headed towards the inner planets. The first shuttle docked with a different ship which had since remained in orbit.
Hec had received no transmissions in the meantime and was becoming anxious about Owens’ fate. As much as he would have liked, Hec refrained from attempting contact with the battle group. He was given stern instruction to await a message from the Golstar authorities. He had no doubt any failure to follow their directive would result in some very unpleasant consequences.
In the meantime, he could only wait and fret. Earlier, he had taken advantage of his stationary orbit, and using the ship’s internal manipulators, repaired the damage the ship had taken during their escape from the Light Saber. The ship was again capable of reaching subspace. Status routines and diagnostics had been run and rerun. As a result, the ship exceeded its initial calibrations and in essence, Hec now had nothing to do but to twiddle his imaginary thumbs.
Hec was mildly amused that his impatience as a human had carried over in his incarnation as an AI. But as a consequence, for the first time, Hec was seriously considering putting himself into a maintenance standby mode, the closest equivalent of sleep to an AI. Since Hec was connected to the ship, he wouldn’t have to worry about his battery reserve. In standby, he would not awaken until a message was received or some onboard emergency presented itself.
At this point, anything was better than this waiting, not knowing if Owens was okay or being tortured by his Golstar hosts. Hec’s best assumption was that Owens was alive but as to his circumstances, the AI couldn’t begin to guess.
Hec made the decision. The AI accessed the standby mode program and reviewed the checklist and procedures. It was a simple process. As Hec began to initiate the procedure, a signal came through on Owens’ voice communications channel. Hec immediately canceled his entry into standby and made to answer the signal.
Having no idea of who might be listening, Hec opened the channel with, “Transmission is acknowledged Owner Owens. Please provide your access code.”
The code was immediately sent. “Sherlock Holmes provide your current status, starting with propulsion,” the voice on the originating end stated.
Hec’s voice recognition routine verified that the voice appeared to belong to Owens. The prearranged code word propulsion was included in the transmission and indicated that Hec was to provide a truthful response. Had Owens asked for the navigational system status first, then Hec’s orders were to concoct some problem and make an attempt to escape as soon as an opportunity presented itself. Of course, this was a gamble assuming the Golstar ships were in the same general condition as the others that they had encountered.
Hec maintained his AI-machine persona, “All propulsion systems have been fully restored, Owner Owens. All other systems have been calibrated and are nominal. Sherlock Holmes is fully space-worthy. Orders?”
Owens’ voice immediately responded, “New coordinates are being transmitted. You are to now to break orbit and make for the coordinates provided. The Sherlock Holmes will dock with the ship designated as the “Lightning Strike.” The docking procedures are the same as those that were used for the Light Saber. I shall rejoin the Sherlock Holmes on the completion of your successful docking. Acknowledge.”
“Acknowledged,” Hec responded.
“Owens, out,” the transmission ended.
Hec was already bringing the reaction drives on-line as Owens closed the transmission link.
● ● ●
Owens deactivated the communicator. He sat in a stiff-backed chair and looked about the admiral’s compartment. He was alone, but he had no doubt he was under close surveillance. He made a show of stretching in what he hoped was in a manner of bored indifference. He slowly slouched in the uncomfortable seat. He had been surprised when he had been given the instructions for docking the Holmes and then to board her for the duration of the trip back to Berralton.
On disembarking from the shuttle, the admiral had left him with the squad. Without a word, the admiral made for what Owens assumed was the bridge of the Lightning Strike. The squad then disbursed, leaving him alone with a single uniformed crewman.
The crewman told him to follow and led him down a maze of corridors to a sparsely furnished compartment later identified as the admiral’s. He was provided terse instructions by the crewman and then left alone to complete his orders to contact the Sherlock Holmes. It seemed to Owens the admiral had little desire for Owens to be in close proximity to him or his crew. That was okay with Owens. He was looking forward to getting back aboard his own ship. It would be good to talk to Hec again.
As he sat there, his body slowly began to relax and the next thing that he knew, he was being prodded and none too gently at that. His eyes popped open, his body tensing, preparing to spring. Fortunately, he remembered where he was and forced himself to relax. He looked up at a stern-faced crewmember and deliberately stretched. This one was female.
“Sorry,” he yawned, “I must have fallen asleep.”
The crew member looked at him with open disgust. “Get up,” she said brusquely. “Your ship has docked. The admiral wants you on it. Now.”
Owens grinned at her. “And I was just getting used to your gracious hospitality.” He rose from the chair and stretched. She was a head shorter and he looked down at her for a moment. He gave her a sloppy salute and said, �
�Lead on. I’m more than ready to leave these gracious accommodations.”
Stone-faced and without another word, the crewmember turned on her heel and exited the compartment. Owens got up and followed her out into the corridor. Walking down the now-accustomed twists and turns, Owens soon found himself at an inner airlock with an armed man standing on either side.
The woman turned to him and said, “These men will accompany you onboard. There, they will place monitor seals on your weapons, communications, and propulsion controls. The monitor seals are linked to the Lightning Strike. Should you attempt to activate any of these systems, we will know immediately and take appropriate action. Do you understand?”
Owens grinned and nodded, “I believe I do.”
She departed and Owens went through the inner and outer locks, leading the two men down the docking umbilical and into the Holmes. He pointed out the consoles and the men placed small gray boxes with some sort of adhesive on each of them. The men pressed small squares on their top surfaces which obliged with beeps and dim-lit amber lamps. Their task completed, the two men exited without a word.
“Hmmm, I’m hungry, Owens said aloud. “I’m going to the galley.” And with that, he headed purposely for his announced destination.
He reached the galley, sat down at the mess table and watched the door as it slid shut. “Can we talk?”
“Yeah, it’s okay to talk, Boss.”
“You’ve already analyzed those boxes?”
“Yeah, it looks like they serve dual purposes. First, I detected low level scans of the consoles where they were placed … so it looks like they’re watching for any activity in the systems the consoles control, even a transfer of that control to an auxiliary system.”
“And the second purpose would be what? Eavesdropping?”
“You got it. I found the carrier wave that’s aimed back to the Lighting Strike. The good news is that their capability for picking up voice is limited to main control and only about three meters into the corridor with the em-lock closed.”
“Good work, Hec. Then it’s safe to talk as long as we stay out of those areas.”
“That’s about it,” Hec answered. “Now come on, Boss, bring me up to date. I’m dying to find out what happened to you and Sharné down on the planet. By the way, where is she?”
Owens raised his hand, “Stay calm, I’ll get to that. But first, I need to program the auto-cook, I really am hungry.”
● ● ●
While Owens was programming the auto-cook on the Sherlock Holmes, Sharné was sitting in her ship’s richly appointed quarters, lost in deep thought. By way of long established tradition, a number of ships-of-the-line had a stateroom prepared and reserved for the Grand Patriarch or his designate. The ship in which Sharné now resided was one such ship and it had been provided exclusively for Sharné’s comfort.
But Sharné was not comfortable; she was tired. Since boarding, she had not been able to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. She could not turn off her mind. Instead, her thoughts circled in an endless loop, pausing on one recent event then jumping on to the next. And overlaying it all was her confusion over Owens. It always came back to him. She sighed as she remembered the few stolen kisses, accompanied by the lingering embraces. However, as she continued to think of him, the marvel of her feelings would always give way to worry.
Up until meeting Owens, she had never been emotionally involved with a man. Typical of the citizens of Golstar, she was trained to control her emotions. Public displays of affection of any kind were discouraged, especially between opposite sexes. Marriages were often arranged to facilitate political or business interests. The concept of romance was more of an abstract than a reality. Her life was full, with little room for thought of sharing her future with another.
So why now did she have such an overwhelming attraction to Owens? On Selane, she practically threw herself at him. Thankfully, he had not seemed to mind her advances, and she smiled at the memory. It was if someone had opened an inner door, revealing a well of suppressed feelings waiting to escape at the right opportunity.
However, not all of her feelings were as benign. Her unexplained angry outbursts, then the panic she had felt back on the Holmes were not events she remembered as fondly as the stolen moments with Owens. All of these departures from her normal behavior were more than bewildering. She was at a loss. She could not understand what was happening to her, and at times she wondered about her sanity.
The momentary thought of questioning her sanity was like a dash of icy water. Her stubborn will reasserted itself, and with a deep breath, she deliberately pushed those thoughts aside. She would not succumb to despair. She was a Keeper of the Way. Had she not survived the attack on the Light Saber and saved Owens’ life on Selane? She was strong and would remain so. There were more important matters to consider than her self-centered worries.
She determinedly looked back to their time on Selane and the mysterious encounter with the Controller. She pondered that strange featureless room to where she had been transported. It was still difficult to believe it was part of a deep underground structure built by a powerful race of aliens thousands of years ago.
Until the moment when she found herself in that room, she had been totally unaware of the Controller’s existence. She had no doubt it was a closely-held secret kept by the Founder and all of Golstar’s leaders. Nevertheless, as Keeper of the Way, she should have access to such important information. It troubled her to think her father had held this information back from her. Did he not trust her? And what did it all mean? Why was it a secret? What was the link between the Founder and the alien complex?
She clenched her fists in frustration. She had no answers, at least not yet. Her questions would have to wait until she saw her father. He had the answers and she vowed she would not be denied them. She closed her eyes. These thoughts were of no use either. They simply served to aggravate her already anxious mind. She needed to direct her mind away from her father.
Unbidden, her thoughts were again drawn back to Owens. She relived her embarrassing reaction to finding Owens alive after believing him dead. She had never before fainted. In her mind’s eye, she saw his powerful figure standing before the room’s single feature, a simple raised platform with a ball of light hovering above it. She remembered the assurance in his voice, deep with concern, in marked contrast with the glowing orb, the Controller speaking through it with its sexless voice.
The Controller offered little real information, instead making tantalizing but vague references to a vanished alien race. It talked of proper authority, command sequences and the mysterious Compact. Her mind kept returning to that scene. Why, she wondered, that one particularly?
Oblivious to her surroundings, Sharné was lost in this reflection, alternately contemplating the nature of the mystery-shrouded subterranean complex and then Owens’ comforting embrace. For the moment, her thoughts about her own behavior were put aside. Her ruminations were interrupted by a soft tapping coming from her door. She touched a small sensor on the arm of her chair. The door slid open. Standing before the threshold was a bridge officer in a spotless dress uniform.
He bowed, “Lieutenant Sutner, at your service, Honored Keeper. Please forgive this intrusion.”
She rose to her feet and dutifully smiled, “Forgiven; you may enter, Lieutenant.”
He straightened and walked towards her, stopping at the prescribed five paces from where she stood. He bowed again and said, “The Founder protects his children.”
“And his children protect his legacy,” she responded automatically. “Rise Lieutenant; what business brings you to me?”
He did not hesitate. “Members of the crew have asked me to represent them to you. First, and with the utmost respect and affection, they inquire of your health.”
A tiny frown formed on her face, then vanished as quickly as it appeared. She asked, “My health?”
The Lieutenant looked slightly discomfited. He hesitated then contin
ued. “I assure you their concern is expressed out of a deep and abiding affection for you, Honored Keeper. When you first boarded the ship, some crew members were present and they observed that you wore unfamiliar clothing and appeared, ah… unsettled.”
She nodded slowly, “Yes. I admit I was not at my best. I was somewhat disheveled but truly, not in any real distress. I remain puzzled the crew saw it necessary to petition me.” She allowed herself a small smile of amusement.
“I suppose that, by itself, it would not have caused the crew to contact me. Honored Keeper, you understand the crew was not provided the details of our mission. Of course, this is not unusual. However, a great, great urgency was placed upon its success. Every crew member was compelled to perform their duties at the highest possible level.”
“I am most thankful they took those directives to heart,” she said. “Please tell the crew I am pleased by their diligence.”
“Thank you Honored Keeper. I will convey your appreciation.” He went on, “Of course the crew did know we were on a rescue mission, but not informed of any details. Only fleet officers were privy to that information. When we finally reached our destination, it was not long before we were told the mission had been successful. ” He hesitated, “Soon after that, your shuttle docked with our ship. Your unexpected appearance made it evident you were the likely objective of our mission.”
“Understandable,” she said.
He added quickly, “And so, as they have not seen you during any of the Services in the past two days and coupled with your ah, disheveled condition, it was natural their concern only increased.”
Service! The Founder help her. How could she have forgotten? Her hand went to her throat and her face paled.
Misinterpreting her reaction, the Lieutenant flinched, and in an urgent voice said, “Honored Keeper, please forgive me. I see now, though you bravely try to conceal it, you are unwell. Shall I send for the medical technician?” His eyes flicked to the call box on her side table.
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