“Owens, I thought it was to cure my people. I believed there was not another choice.”
“So… this was all just to get a piece of me, literally.”
“We were truly desperate,” she said. “Had… had it succeeded, you would never have known.”
“Now why doesn’t that make me feel any better?” It wasn’t hard to achieve sarcasm in his voice. “Yeah, you’re right. I wouldn't have guessed a clone of me had been grown and indoctrinated with the sterling values laid down by your incomparable society. I would never know, due to my special DNA, your benevolent, or should I say, parasitic civilization could once again leech alien technology for its own ends.” He looked harder at Sharné, and inwardly winced when saw that her face had flushed with what he knew was shame.
“You should not judge her so harshly, Janus Owens,” the Grand Patriarch said sharply.
With genuine anger, he turned back to the Grand Patriarch, “Why not?”
The Grand Patriarch shook his head. “As she said, she was not aware of the Controllers or the Primes. Her purpose in helping to obtain samples of your DNA was for an entirely different reason. She was only aware of the need of your DNA for research. Cloning was never mentioned.”
“And that justifies her role in all of this?”
“When I was told your DNA was the key in curing our sterility,” she said quietly, “I thought you would save my people from the brink of extinction. So yes, the need was great. I believed obtaining your DNA was justified… using any means. ” She took a deep breath, “But the fact remains I deceived you in order to extract your DNA without your knowledge.”
He shook his head, “You’re a regular Florence Nightingale.”
She looked at him blankly.
He turned to the Grand Patriarch. “So, in addition my being part of a key, my DNA is a cure for your people’s low birth rate?”
“No, I felt it prudent that Sharné not be made privy to the true nature of your value to Golstar. It was a convenient fabrication.”
“My true and sole purpose in this grand scheme of yours was to be a walking, talking container for DNA that happens to match that of your precious Founder.” His voice was winter, “I was to play the blind fool, investigating a fictitious crime while unknowingly donating a piece of my body.”
He turned and stared at Sharné. She looked down at the floor, avoiding Owens’ eyes. Her voice barely above a whisper, “Is it so hard to understand our desperation? We are dying... and I was led to believe only you could provide the cure.”
He just stared at her and could see a little from her perspective. Still, he thought cynically, why would such a flawed culture need to be saved? From where he was standing, it seemed better for all concerned that they fade quietly into the night.
She lapsed into silence, unable to look at Owens or speak further.
The Grand Patriarch broke the tableau. “Much effort and resource were expended to recreate the illusion of our once invincible image. Areas of the city where you were to conduct your investigation were cordoned off and restored so that your experiences on Berralton would reflect us at our best. You would have interacted with people who had been carefully coached. On your return to Confederated Planets, we hoped you would tell your government of our undiminished might.”
The Grand Patriarch became contemplative, “It was a sound plan. We tried to account for any eventuality. Even if Confederated Planets still harbored suspicions, by the time they moved to satisfy their curiosity, we would have regained enough of our heritage to discourage any incursion into Golstar territory.”
“Implanted memories would have been a whole lot easier,” Owens snorted.
“No. We considered that. Even if done properly, such a procedure can be detected,” the Grand Patriarch shook his head. “We could not chance such a discovery. We needed to make sure all of your memories were genuine. As you can see, it was our original intention that you be returned to Confederated Planets.”
“But you hadn’t counted on the attack on the Light Saber or our being forced to land on Selane.”
“True again,” the Grand Patriarch admitted. “Nor had I anticipated your own unique perception. My daughter told me of your little talk aboard your ship. With the inner workings of the Light Saber exposed to your inquisitiveness and your subsequent deductions, you further reduced the chance of the original plan succeeding.”
“So instead, I’m now a captive, but still a handy source for your precious DNA culture.”
“I am so sorry,” Sharné whispered.
The Grand Patriarch muttered, “Wasted.” He sighed, “All of that effort was wasted. Nevertheless, our great need of you remains. Through chance circumstances or not, you survived your ordeal and now you are here and know the reason why; pretenses are no longer necessary. It is fortuitous we will not have to wait for a cloned embryo to develop before we can regain access to our lost heritage. You will provide us immediate access to the vast resources of the Primes.”
So, Owens thought, now he knew the story, too bad it didn’t make him feel any better. He was in Golstar’s custody and soon they would remove some tissue, maybe a few cubic centimeters of blood. His DNA would provide a long term, living half of their precious key to the alien technology. After that, his days were numbered. With their limited resources, it would probably be easier keep him alive to act as a temporary key, and as a ready reservoir of his DNA. Still, he knew his life would last only as long as his usefulness. Once the clone had matured sufficiently, he had no doubt his services, along with his life, would be terminated.
His thoughts turned to the cloned version of himself and felt his gorge rise at the thought of his duplicate, or any other helpless embryo, slowly developing in one of those soulless cylinders.
CHAPTER 51
Hec waited. The Sherlock Holmes remained solidly attached to the Golstar ship. Using minimal passive scanning, the AI had determined only a skeleton crew remained on the other ship. For two ship-days, the Holmes had been locked onto the side of the Golstar ship in high orbit around the planet. Hec was isolated from all direct, incoming communications. He had no way of knowing Owens’ situation and didn’t dare shut down for fear Owens might try to contact him.
In the ensuing hours, Hec broke the tedium by tapping into the planet’s local media broadcasts. Surprisingly, it took a while. Even the mundane entertainment channels were encrypted. Hec marveled at such paranoia. The citizens of Berralton certainly took the concept of secrecy to a whole new level. Hec wouldn’t have been surprised if they encrypted their grocery lists as well.
Eventually, Hec broke the key code sequencing. The public channels were then open to him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before the AI concluded the public media wasn’t much an improvement over the isolation. Hec surmised Berralton’s ideas of entertainment were solely comprised of historical dramas, classic symphonies, propaganda-steeped newscasts and pious religious programming. In ten hours of monitoring the airways, Hec had yet to hear a single curse word or sexual innuendo. Damn boring stuff, the AI thought.
Hec set up his monitoring program to scan all frequencies and incorporated all known analog transmission formats as well as digital. The military and governmental traffic took up quite a bit of the available spectrum, and out of sheer boredom, Hec had set up separate decryption programs to break their more sophisticated, ever-changing cipher codes. However, finally, after successfully translating a few of the encrypted communications, Hec decided the government and military messages were even more boring than the public programming and now only sampled the traffic from time to time.
As Hec was contemplating another chess game with himself, multiple ship alarms suddenly went off. Telemetry indicated that someone had bypassed the airlock alarms and entered the ship. How? No one should have been able to enter the Holmes without first triggering the airlock entry alarms. Hec also armed the internal motion sensors in addition to the airlock alarms as a supplementary precaution. Those were the alarms tha
t had been activated. There were no indications an airlock had been breached, yet an anomaly was detected in the central corridor. Something was in the corridor that had not been there a moment before.
Hec immediately scanned for life-forms and was surprised when none were detected. Other sensors registered an initial energy spike, then nothing. Hec initiated a diagnostic of the alarm system and sensors but could find no obvious malfunction. There was the alarm and now nothing.
Hec then decided on a visual scan and activated the Holmes’ internal cameras and received a shock. From various viewing angles, they revealed a glowing ball floating in the center of the central corridor. Hec trained all the ship’s internal sensors on the orb. The scan results were all negative. It was as if the artifact didn’t exist.
As Hec considered what to do next, the communications monitor clamored for attention. It was reporting that an urgent message was being received. The signal was originating from inside the Holmes, the central corridor to be exact. The orb was beginning to transmit a language-based data stream.
● ● ●
Owens was back in his rooms, sitting in a large upholstered chair in the comfortable living area, off the huge bedroom, and had been for the last hour. He fingered the outline of the strap on his gravity harness. He had put it on before exiting the Holmes for the short trip down to Berralton. During his time on the planet, no one mentioned the device. He absently rubbed the slightly raised surface through the fabric of his shirt and thought back on the last few minutes of his discussion with the Grand Patriarch.
Owens had asked, suspecting the answer, “What exactly did you mean, when you said that you won’t have to wait for the cloning?”
“We have waited for a very long time to regain access to the Controllers. But now that you are here permanently, with no possibility of leaving, there is no reason why you cannot provide your part of the key, at least for the time being. Therefore, I have decided that tomorrow morning, together, you and I will reopen the gateway to the Trah-tang technologies as the first step in resurrecting Golstar’s destiny. You will be the instrument of our people’s return to the Way.”
Once again, the Grand Patriarch’s manner changed, and he shook his fist in unabashed exultation. “The Founder’s vision shall soon be resurrected.” A crazed kind of excitement had been kindled in his voice and a broad smile flashed on his face. “With your DNA and His guidance, our people will regain their footing on the righteous Path to the Light! You have been accorded a great and wonderful privilege, Janus Owens. You will be allowed to witness our return to the Founder’s grand plan!”
Owens listened to the growing fervor in the Grand Patriarch’s strident voice. As Golstar’s leader talked, the intensity with which he spoke increased, his gestures grew more animated and his voice began to quaver with barely suppressed emotion. But the most striking aspect of the Grand Patriarch’s diatribe was his eyes. They were now directed at him. They burned into Owens and he could not look away from the Ruler’s intense, demanding gaze. He could almost feel the heat radiating from that maniacal glare. He had seen that look before, when he was still a cop. He remembered different words, but they were derived from the same the potent fuel… of psychosis.
The Grand Patriarch seemed to be on the verge of losing control and Owens knew better than to interrupt. But he tensed, not knowing what might come next. Fortunately, his silence was rewarded as the Grand Patriarch slowly regained his composure. His voice gradually lost much its strident tone; the fire in his eyes subsided. Owens relaxed a little, but knew the madness was still there, held barely in check, lurking behind the Grand Patriarch’s softening demeanor.
He had looked over at Sharné, meaning to catch her eye. He wanted to give her a sign that the display of outrage he had exhibited towards her was simply an act. But her face was still averted away from him. So he waited. He couldn’t discern any reaction to her father’s recent words or in the near lunatic manner of their delivery. She shifted slightly, seeming to feel his gaze upon her. He looked at her for a moment longer, hoping that she would turn toward him. However, she did not, so he reluctantly returned his attention back to the Grand Patriarch.
The leader seemed to have fully regained his composure. He said a few more words, stressing the importance of Owens’ contribution. He failed to mention the fact that it was quite involuntary on Owens’ part. When it seemed that the Grand Patriarch oration had come to an end, Sharné, in a subdued voice, asked her father for a private audience when they returned to the receiving room. The Grand Patriarch’s mood had obviously improved and he graciously agreed. He then led them back to the upper levels of the palace. Sharné made no attempt to look at or speak with Owens again before the guards arrived to escort him to his ‘guest’ quarters.
He was roused from his reverie by a knock on the door. Unbidden, his thoughts turned to Sharné. Was it her outside the door? Since being returned to his quarters, he had been trying to avoid thinking about her beyond their recent audience with the Grand Patriarch, but had failed miserably. He knew he should be angry with her, but he wasn’t. She was after all, a product of her civilization. Her father was its leader. Her loyalties and actions were understandable, though flawed in logic, but at least understandable. Of course, her father was another matter entirely.
The knock on the door broke his concentration and his thoughts were drawn back to their few stolen moments of intimacy. In spite of everything, he still believed her feelings for him were real and far from hating her, he remained helplessly enamored of her. With the tentative knock, his expectations rose. He could almost smell the fragrance of her hair and feel her sweet, pliant lips on his. “Come in,” he called.
The door opened and a steward swiftly entered, pushing a cart. He felt a wave of disappointment. Then he found himself reconsidering… if it had been her, what could he possibly say? For that matter, what would she say? Talk about the ultimate of awkward situations, he thought. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing it hadn’t been Sharné at his door. With all that had been revealed, it would probably be better to consider how he might approach her, provided, of course, he was ever given another opportunity to do so.
The smell of food momentarily distracted him and he was surprised, that in spite of everything, he was actually hungry. The steward removed the covers from plates heavily laden with food, and without a word, left. Owens watched her retreating back and idly wondered if they were all mute. The door closed solidly. He sighed and drew the tray in front of him. He said softly, “And the condemned man ate a hearty meal…”
He had barely started to eat when the illumination in the room momentarily dimmed then immediately returned to its original brightness. His wrist-comp began to softly chime for his attention, startling him. He had completely forgotten about it. His guards had not taken it away when he first arrived nor had the guards at the Receiving Room given it any notice. He had automatically put it on that morning after dressing. Looking back, he remembered the Grand Patriarch had taken no note of it either.
As he moved to activate it, he thought he must have been right, that in their arrogance, they assumed it would do no harm for him to keep it. After all, what use could it possibly be? He needed no compass or computer. Any personal logs were likely to be confiscated and he wasn’t in the mood for reading, games or music at the moment. Of course, he might want to play a holo-movie if the tiny projector array still worked. And he couldn’t forget it was good for contacting his ship, which now was very likely impounded. However, he had no doubt that any attempt to contact his ship would be blocked. The small device was probably malfunctioning. Then, a darker thought intruded. Would they simply destroy his ship? They could be using the Holmes for target practice at this very moment.
“Boss?”
“Hec?”
“You okay, Boss?”
“Yeah, I’m okay, Hec. But I’m surprised that your signal wasn’t blocked. I’m glad to hear your voice but why are you contacting me? What’s your status?”<
br />
“The Holmes is still attached to the Golstar ship. The last crew members left a half-hour ago. It looks like it’s on automatic station-keeping. We’ve been moth-balled, at least temporarily.”
Owens asked, “Any chance of escaping?”
“No, at least not by conventional means,” Hec answered. “A crew member sent a message just before they departed. The Golstar ship is rigged to blow if any stress is registered in the docking rig.”
“That’s too bad. But listen, you have to know that even though you got through, this transmission is likely being monitored; my room is also bugged.”
“Don’t worry; it’s all been taken care of.”
“Taken care of?” He remembered the momentary dimming of the lights, “How?”
“This transmission is completely shielded. Plus, the video and sound monitors in your rooms have been preempted. As we speak, your doppelganger is enjoying a hearty meal.
“Just how did you manage that? I know that you have a fairly extensive, technical background, but I don’t remember any equipment on the ship that could be used to override a planetary surveillance system.”
“Well, I did have a little help,” Hec replied.
Owens’ mind flashed again to Sharné. Had she contacted Hec?
“It was the Controllers that provided the help. Actually, they did all the work.”
That was the last thing that Owens expected to hear. He paused at this unexpected announcement. “Now why would they help me? I thought they were limited under the Compact.”
“Well that’s the thing. We had quite a conversation. The Compact restricts access to their resources only to those humans with the correct DNA and security code. But technically, I’m not a human, so...”
“I see, but why…” Owens paused, “Hec you’d better start from the beginning and tell me everything that’s happened.”
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