Shadows of Golstar by Terrence Scott Read Free Book Online Page B

ten percent bonus.” 
  
    Owens was surprised, “That is very generous, but not…”
    “Hell, you saved our corporate butts, Son, plain and
simple,” Willens interrupted. “I admit I’m rather fond of mine and thanks to
you, I get to keep it. So, just call it an added payment for your suggestions
on security. It would have cost us a lot more to call in a consultant to come
up with the same recommendations that you’ve thoughtfully provided us. We want
you to take the money with our sincere appreciation.” He winked, “And no
offense, Son, but I hope we don’t have to do business with you again anytime
soon.”
    Owens chuckled, “None taken and thank you again.”
    Willens then talked Owens into a farewell drink from
the well-appointed office bar. After receiving a heartfelt toast from the tiny
businessman, Owens exchanged a few final pleasantries.  Later, after
Santee took his leave, Owens quickly packed the few personal items remaining in
the office and entered the mag-lift for the last time.  
    On the way down, he imagined the miniature building
maintenance crew already swarming in his vacated office, busily tearing down
the over-sized accommodations like so many termites attacking a pile of wood.
He smiled at the image and heard the soft chime that indicated he was
approaching his destination.  Still smiling, he exited the mag-lift.
    On reaching the parking area, he pressed a stud on his
wrist-comp, signaling the Rialto. He was ready to leave. The sleek transport
pulled up and Owens got in. “Let’s get to the spaceport, slip seventeen; it’s
time to go home,” he instructed.    
    Pulling out of the protection of the parking complex,
heavy rain pummeled Owens’s vehicle. The muffled sound of sheets of water
striking the Rialto’s insulated skin sounded like surf crashing, in the
distance. The windshield’s rain repulsers struggled to keep the passenger view
clear. The AI, not relying on visual orientation, accelerated into traffic. A
transport AI would normally connect to a traffic route control computer, but
again, with its relatively small populace, the frugal citizens of Genhome had chosen
not to install one. The Rialto’s AI instead had to rely on a variety of
on-board sensors to navigate in the rotten weather.    
    Ignoring the storm, Owens closed his eyes and
relaxed.  For the first time since arriving, the rain soothed him. He was
looking forward to finally leaving dirt-side. Two months, though a relatively
short time for the SolGen case, was too long to be stuck on a planet like
Genhome. He was anxious to get back aboard his ship, the Sherlock Holmes . 
    As a fan of old earth pulp literature and being a
private investigator, he had named it after the ancient fictional detective. It
was a late model 203, a decommissioned long-range military scout ship he had
bought at auction eight standards ago. It took a lot of time and money to refurbish
and modify it to his preferences.  
    Fortunately, he had inherited a considerable amount of
money when his grandfather had died in an accident, so money hadn’t been a
hindrance. When he was finally finished with the modifications, the Sherlock’s original six-crew quarters had been converted into a single, spacious
stateroom. The galley had been modernized and the equipment storage compartment
was converted to moderate-sized guest quarters. The sizable main storage hold
remained untouched.    
    Owens was especially proud of the ship’s engines. As a
long-range scout, it had been outfitted with subspace generators and reaction
engines larger than a civilian ship of similar size would merit. After a
thorough overhaul, she could still lay claim as being one of the fastest
non-military interstellar ships plying the space-lanes. The ship’s original,
declassified military AI had been recently upgraded.  Though lacking in
personality, it managed the ship quite satisfactorily.
     Other than the noise of the rain pounding
against the Rialto’s