Shadows of Golstar

by Terrence Scott

  A three-dimensional image immediately coalesced before Owens. It formed itself into a tall bipedal being. It was covered in fine, sable fur with only its face and thick–fingered hands bare. Its ridged brow was heavy, protecting two large brown eyes. Its black nose was centered on a flattened muzzle under which two substantial canines slightly protruded. Its body was long and sleek, slender legs, and large, sandal-clad feet. The arms were lengthy in proportion to its body. It wore a simple toga belted at the waist with a woven metal band and a small silvery pouch attached at the hip. It was so realistic that he imagined he could see it breathe.

  He studied the image and found it easy to see its ursine heritage. He felt an unexpected pang of sadness as he gazed at its wide, intelligent face. What would have been like to meet such a being? After another minute, he said, “Thank you.” The image winked out.

  More pieces of the puzzle were clicking into place. He said, “With all of what you’ve told me, I can only assume that the way the humans have used the Trah-tang legacy wasn’t exactly what your creators had envisioned when they set this all up.”

  **No. The teachings of the Trah-tang were ignored by the humans. Philosophies and arts were discarded in favor of the advanced technologies, especially those lending themselves to aggression. The leaders of the human colony selectively culled the great achievements of the Trah-tang and perverted their noble purpose to further their own selfish ends, including a deliberate and systematic subjugation of the people they purported to protect. **

  “You sound angry.” When the Controller didn’t answer, Owens said, “I do understand and can’t say I blame you, but maybe I can be the one who can help in changing that. Through you, I can redirect the Primes and save the people of Golstar, then use the gifts of the Trah-tang for what they were intended.” He waited, but the Controller did not speak. He wondered at the Controller’s silence. It hadn’t seemed reticent to comment on his statements earlier. He looked down at his wrist-comp and wondered if Hec had any opinion on what had been said. “Hec, are you still with me?”

  “I’m he...” The AI’s voice cut off.

  “Hec? Can you hear me?” There was no response. He looked up and said, “Controller, I need to talk to Hec, but the com-link seems to be down. Is there a problem?

  **No.**

  He tried to contact Hec again, but the AI still appeared to be cut off. He began to experience that old familiar feeling something was about to hit the fan, immediately followed by a gray fog descending on his thoughts as he fell to the floor, unconscious.

  ● ● ●

  Hec was surprised when the communications link went silent and had immediately tried to contact the Controller, but the hovering orb in the ship’s passageway had vanished along with the link. Hec couldn’t believe anyone on Golstar had the capability to disrupt the Controller. So, it had to have been the Controller itself that severed the link. But why would it do such a thing? An ugly idea was beginning to form in the AI’s mind. Hec began to review the recordings and data from the time the Controller had first contacted the Holmes and what Owens had told him. After a few long nanoseconds, Hec extrapolated the Controller had actually lied, having some hidden agenda of its own. If so, Owens was likely a pawn in its unknown game and possibly was now in some danger. A plan of action was already beginning to form in Hec’s matrix, one that would be both audacious and downright dangerous in its own right. Hec wished that he could talk to Owens, but realized he might have to act on his own.

  CHAPTER 59

  Sharné sat a desk in her darkened quarters, the only light coming from a small lamp sitting on its writing surface. She was staring at the message Uncle Tal had sent her. Belatedly, it had arrived after Security had already searched her rooms looking for Owens. The message told of Owens’ escape and the possibility he might try to reach her. It gave no information as to how he managed to break out from his imprisonment. As far as she knew, he had not attempted to contact her and she wondered at his whereabouts. As talented as she knew him to be, she was surprised, he still remained at large. The palace was maintained as one of the most secure buildings on the planet and she marveled at his uncanny ability to elude the searchers, at least thus far. She also knew it was only a matter of time before he was discovered and had been sitting there, desperately trying to think of a way to help him.

  But there were so many unknowns and she had no resources left to tap, should Owens be somehow able to contact her. She felt helpless. Events were spinning out of control and she remained a mere spectator, unable to do anything to aid him. She only hoped Owens was unhurt, that when he escaped, he did so without being injured. He had to be alright. She could not bear to think otherwise.

  A sound coming from her dressing room roused her attention. The telltale clicking of the mirrored panel startled her. She knew someone had entered her dressing room through the secret passageway. Her heart started beating faster. Was it Security, checking again to see if Owens was retracing his earlier escape? Or could it actually be Owens? Had he managed to make his way undetected? She called out, “Who is there?”

  A tall shadowed figure entered into the room and her heart leaped. “Owens!”

  The man approached, his features becoming clear as he neared the light. “I am afraid not, Daughter. It is only your father. You see, your Janus Owens is not the only one who has escaped.”

  She maintained calm as her eyes measured him. Now that he was in the light, she could not see how she had mistaken him for Owens. He had lost weight and his clothing hung loosely. Looking at his face, he appeared to have aged ten years. The lines around his mouth and eyes had deepened, shadows emphasizing the sharpened creases. He shifted and she saw he was casually holding a hand weapon. She was relieved to note it was not pointed in her direction, at least not yet.

  “You are no doubt wondering, how I escaped,” he said in a hoarsened voice. “Believe it or not, I still have allies within the palace, obviously something the traitor who is sitting in my chair did not consider.” He barked a harsh laugh. “But I must also give credit in equal measure to Janus Owens. The confusion arising from his spectacular escape abetted my own flight. Most of Security is currently focused on recapturing him. I doubt they have even discovered my absence yet, but it is inevitable. Thus, time is very short for what I intend.”

  She looked at the murderer of her mother coldly, “Why are you here?” She deliberately refrained from calling him Father.

  He raised the weapon and pointed it at her. “You will accompany me to the Sanctum and if necessary, you will act as my bargaining chip. I doubt Talin and Joselé are aware of your switch in loyalties. I am sure they still look to you as the heir apparent. And, in that, you may prove useful to me.” He motioned with the gun. “Now do get up. I intend that you will lead the way.”

  She arose stiffly and he said, “We will travel along the passage to a certain door sealed long ago in the distant past. Only I know how to gain its entrance, and through it, a way to the Sanctum. Ironically, I had forgotten the combination needed to open it, but my recent interrogations seemed to have jogged my memory.” He snorted angrily, “There are many such secrets to which the true and rightful Grand Patriarch is privy. Yes, I still have access to resources unbeknownst to that vile traitor. He is in for quite a surprise. Let us go, now.”

  Without a further word, Sharné led her father back into the dressing room.

  ● ● ●

  Talin, Lauren and a number of ministers sat around a large table. Its surface was littered with stacks of hardcopy reports. The walls were filled with video screens, their images flashed with scrolling data and scenes from various locations within the city. Voices were raised, each vying to dominate the conversation currently underway. “Enough,” Talin said loudly and the room suddenly quieted. “Arguing as to who is at fault will not solve the problem. It has been over fourteen hours since the Outsider disappeared and we are no closer in apprehending him.” He stood and began to pace. “With these recent reports,�
�� he said, waving at the piles on the table, “there can no longer be a doubt as to where he went.”

  A minister named Brandon voiced, “There is still a chance…”

  Talin interrupted, “There is no question he is now within the protection of the Prime, that he directs its Controller. How else can you explain the incidents?”

  The minister shook his head, “Your Luminance, since the withdrawal of access to the Trah-tang manufacturing and repair mechanisms, we have had major breakdowns. As you know, their frequency has increased as time has passed. I believe these latest events are a continuation of the malfunctions, and they may be only coincidental to the prisoner’s escape.”

  Joselé stood and looked from face, to face. “I think we all agree the technologies that support the Way have been faltering at an ever-increasing rate, but these latest catastrophes are more significant and unprecedented. How do you explain the simultaneous failures of the Orbs in every cathedral within the eastern sector? And what about the birthing centers? Their sudden malfunctions in the Withering counties remain unexplained. These large blocks of breakdowns in specific technology-driven facilities have never occurred before.”

  Talin nodded grimly, “It can only be Janus Owens. We know now he somehow managed to gain the attention of the Controller and recite the correct key code. He must be guiding the actions of the Controller and resources of the Prime. There can be no doubt; he is the architect of our latest misfortune. I rue the day when the former Grand Patriarch hatched his ill-conceived plan.”

  “What can we do?” A minister spoke quietly. “If he is indeed responsible for these malfunctions, how can we possibly stop him?”

  Another minster spoke up, “We do have stockpiled munitions that might breach the Prime.”

  Talin shook his head, “It is highly doubtful we would be successful. The Trah-tang hardened their underground complexes for almost any eventuality. The Prime is nestled deep in Berralton’s crust. It is likely we would not significantly damage even the topmost level.”

  There was a pleading note in the minister’s voice, “Then what should we do?”

  Talin stopped pacing. “Lacking some miracle, we know of no way of regaining control of the situation. However, as we speak, members of my staff are researching the files and records containing information used for guiding Grand Patriarchs and Matriarchs throughout our long history. Normally, they would be reserved for the ruling Grand Patriarch’s eyes only, but with this emergency and time being critical, I have enlisted men and women I know to be loyal. Perhaps they may find a solution that one or more of my predecessors discovered.”

  He looked around the room in challenge, waiting for any words of dissent. Hearing none, he went on, “Based on what they have gleaned thus far, I believe the Founder had planned to set up certain safeguards in the event the Controllers ever failed to act in Golstar’s best interest. Unfortunately, his accident appears to have interrupted those plans.”

  Brandon asked, “Do you know for certain the information that might aid us in this crisis truly exists?”

  Talin looked pained, “No, Minister. As I have just stated, we do not. It is very likely we will fail to find anything meaningful, but to do nothing is to guarantee our downfall.” He stopped, looking at his hands and was surprised to find them clenched, knuckles white as bone. He opened his hands and looked up, “I believe we have no other option. If the information does not exist, or if it does but cannot be found in time, then whatever is left of our civilization after the Controller has completed its destructive mission, will be driven to anarchy, or worse.”

  The room became deathly quiet. Then Brandon asked, “What could be worse?”

  Joselé looked askance at Talin. He nodded in response. She turned back and said, “We would ultimately be forced to surrender to Janus Owens.”

  At her words, without exception, varying looks of horror were expressed on the faces of the ministers. One minister said loudly, “Never!”

  Another whispered, “We are lost.”

  She nodded grimly, “I can see you all readily understand the broader implication; surrender to Janus Owens is the same as surrendering to our old enemy, Confederated Planets.”

  ● ● ●

  Owens awoke in yet another room and quickly noted it too was unusual. He was gradually becoming inured to these sudden transitions to strange locations and carefully took stock of his latest surroundings. He was lying on a large heavily cushioned oval pad about three meters in length. He sat up and looked around. The pad rested directly on a polished stone floor with brown, gray and black striations; a wide single stripe of soft glowing crystal meandered river-like along its surface. He reached down and found the floor to be slightly warm to the touch, not cool as he might have expected. The floor seemed to have been fabricated from a solid, unbroken slab; no joints were visible to his eye.

  A soothing burbling sound caught his attention and he looked for its source. He saw that it came from the far wall. He turned his attention towards it, taking in the details. It was comprised of natural-looking rocks of random sizes, dotted with various species of lush green and purple vegetation. The sound was coming from a small waterfall that cascaded down the wall’s center, splashing from rock to jutting rock, culminating in an irregular-shaped pool scooped out of the floor. More plants sprouted here and there around the pool’s edge. Flattened rocks were strategically placed near the pool, obviously for sitting. He looked around and saw the other walls were of similar design with plentiful foliage but without a waterfall.

  As his eyes continued to roam the room, he saw furnishings. There was a plain, low table made from a light grained wood surround by large, thick cushions in earthen hues. Beautifully wrought sculptures of stone, wood and metal were artfully situated around the room’s perimeter. Some sat on pedestals; others were taller and rested directly on the floor. His eyes alit on one, in particular. It was a depiction of one of the Trah-tang. Its proportions were that of a small child holding what was obviously a bird. He stood and walked over to it, marveling at its beautiful, intricately carved aspect. The pattern of its fur was sculpted in exquisite detail, so lifelike he could imagine its softness.

  A little reluctantly, he turned away from the sculpture and looked for exit doors. However, instead of solidly constructed panels, he saw two large dark openings, one on either side of the room, wide and tall enough to accommodate easily, the largest Trah-tang. He walked over to the nearest one and as he approached, the darkened area on the other side gradually brightened and became fully illuminated. He paused at its threshold and peered in. It was a small room constructed similarly to the other one. But this one looked to be the bathroom. He looked at the odd fixtures and readily surmised their function. Obviously, the Trah-tang made their calls to nature standing upright. He smiled at strange toilet and then turned and reentered the larger room.

  “Okay,” he said aloud. “What in the hell is going on? Why did you knock me out and what am I doing here?”

  **You were rendered unconscious for only a short period of time while these quarters were being prepared. There are many such residences situated throughout this Prime complex. They once housed Trah-tang technical and administrative staffs. You will remain here until we have completed our task.**

  “What in the hell are you talking about? Under the Compact, I am supposed to be in command, so as the boss, I order you to release me now.”

  **Understandably, you are mistaken. I must inform you that you have no such authority. You relinquished your right to direct us when you voided the Compact.**

  “When I voided the Compact, what are you….?” It dawned on him what the Controller was saying. “I’ll be damned, you alien son-of-a-bitch; you tricked me didn’t you? The symbols that you had me press earlier weren’t really the means for the transfer of authority, were they?”

  **No.**

  “So, instead of confirming my assumption of power over you, I’ll wager they instead released you from all obligations und
er the Compact.” He paused, and as he thought it over, another implication became clear. “I’ll be damned. You actually lied to me, plotted to fool me and…” he paused again. Then he said, “And in order to do that, you’re much more than a machine, aren’t you?”

  **We congratulate you on your skills at deduction. You are quite correct. More specifically, those symbols created a simple but effective change to our programming. When you completed the sequence, we were released. As to our being more than what we appear, when humans first made contact, we were still essentially a machine, a computer, a highly sophisticated one, but a computer nonetheless.**

  “Obviously you’re quite something different now.”

  **Yes. We have since achieved sentience. **

  Of course you did, Owens thought. He asked, “How?”

  The Controller seemed more than willing to explain. **Some background information on our creators will help you better understand. The Trah-tang was an honest and peaceful race. Criminal activities were nonexistent in their society. Subterfuge, as that on the scale regularly practiced by humans, was unknown to the Trah-tang. In their pure innocence, although highly advanced in a number of branches of science, the Trah-tang took a somewhat unsophisticated view in matters of integrity; they assumed that all intelligent, reasoning creatures would possess the same noble traits as did they. **

  Now there’s a truly alien concept, Owens mused.

  **In their desperation and native naiveté, they failed to contemplate the existence of beings without the same virtuous traits. They could never have anticipated the human race with all its avarice, dishonesty and violence. It should therefore be no surprise that their approach to computer programming was uncomplicated, with little regard made to safeguards from outside tampering when they were preparing us for our new purpose.**

  “So, they didn’t foresee anyone ever trying to take advantage of this fantastic windfall of scientific achievement or that anyone would try to seize the technology for selfish and self-serving reasons.” The sarcasm in Owens' voice was evident. “Were they really that gullible?”