Freedom Star

Chapter 18

Jon didn't know what he expected—marble floors, gold lighting fixtures, maybe a few chained slaves waving palm fronds? Instead, the hallway they entered was just as utilitarian as the basement; nicely carpeted, sure, and wood-paneled, but definitely not luxurious, if not exactly ascetic, either. It was all very —

"Generic," Kira whispered, looking up and down the hallway. "It's a generic corridor."

"Good word." It was, Jon thought. The corridor could have been in any house anywhere. There was no artwork or furniture or knick-knacks to label it as belonging to a specific person. "Maybe Carlson just hasn't been here long."

"Maybe he has the interior decorating sense of a rock," Kira responded. "Are we going to stand here all day?"

"Shhh." Jon padded down the hall to his right to where another corridor branched off to the left, and peered around the corner. More of the same greeted him: a long corridor, ending in a curtained window, with doors on either side. Not only was there nothing to indicate who the house belonged to, there was nothing to indicate what—or who—was behind any of the doors. So where did he look for a computer terminal?

"I think we're still below ground level," Kira said from behind him, startling him. "Nobody would have a main floor in their house that looks like an office building. Especially not the governor. There has to be a main entranceway, something grand to impress the unwashed public when they come to call."

"I doubt Carlson has all that many callers," Jon said. "But maybe you're right." He pointed down the hall. "It looks like there could be another stairway down there."

Kira brushed past him. "So let's check it out."

"Kira—" Jon ran after her. "You can't just keep barging ahead like that."

"Watch me." She dashed the rest of the way to the stairs, and was halfway up them before he reached the bottom. Muttering under his breath, Jon charged up after her—then ran into her when she stopped at the top step, probably to turn around and say smugly, "Told you so."

The fact he had almost knocked her down didn't stop her from saying it.

They had emerged at the back of a much broader and grander hallway. It had a high, vaulted ceiling, and columns running down the sides, and at the far end went down a couple of steps into a large, oval-shaped space with the planetary seal embossed on the floor. Various bits of artwork dotted the walls, both landscapes—including a jungle scene that Jon could tell at a glance had been painted by someone who had never been within fifty kilometres of the real jungle—and sculptures, mostly busts of former governors and Earth big-shots, judging by the four or five close enough for Jon to read their identifying plaques.

Halfway down the corridor, on both sides, were big double doors of bronze, wood and leather. Jon couldn't see for sure, but had the impression that other rooms opened up to either side of the oval space.

After a moment's silence as they both took in the view, Kira said, "I still say it's generic. Generic governor. I'll bet Carlson hasn't changed a thing in here since he took over."

"He's got his mind on other things," Jon said. "Like exterminating us." He started cautiously forward, the marble floor cold under his bare feet. "So where would you keep a computer terminal if you were a generic governor?"

"How about over there?" Kira said.

Jon turned, followed her pointing finger, and saw the sign on the double doors to their left: PLANETARY GOVERNOR. "You always did have better eyes than anybody else," he muttered. "But I bet the doors are locked."