Timeweb Trilogy Omnibus (11 page)

“Without a loss of quality? Remember, Mutati cells are unique in the galaxy, and very sensitive.”

“Perhaps you are right. To be honest, I am not certain. In any event, I wish to be cooperative.” The Ambassador narrowed his eyes. “But must you have
all
of our production?”

With a firm nod, the Zultan said, “I can arrange for excellent wholesale prices and I will pay you fairly. You deserve to be rewarded, but all minigyro manufacturing must be performed on Paradij, or on another planet in the Mutati Kingdom.”

The Adurian’s insectoid eyebrows arched. “Why, if I might ask?”

“We are concerned about security.”

“With all appropriate respect, sir, I do not understand. You permit us to develop and manufacture Demolios on one of our own planets, but not minigyros?”

Meshdi nodded energetically, causing his many chins to quiver like the layers of a trifle. “The idea of extracted Mutati cells troubles me a great deal. It is no reflection upon your people, for I trust them completely. It is just that our cells are … sacred … and I do not wish to have them or your interesting product fall into the wrong hands.” He spoke with all the solemnity of his high position. “There is tremendous potential for harm here as well as for benefit.”

Abal Meshdi did not really trust the Adurians that much. With their permission he had stationed his own military forces on the industrial world where Demolios were being developed. Since it was well-known that Mutati forces were far superior to those of the Adurians, the conspirators agreed that it would be best to have the Mutatis provide security for this highly important, ultra-secret project. Still, the Adurian military had made significant advances recently and would need to be monitored, even if they were an ally.…

VV Uncel hesitated, and considered the situation. He thought it would be better to do the work on Adurian property, but didn’t envision problems doing it the Zultan’s way. The Adurians were so adept at their biomanufacturing processes that they could keep certain information secret from the Mutatis, even if the shapeshifters were watching them all the time.

With authority from the Adurian Council to make his own decisions in this matter, the Ambassador proceeded to reach an agreement with the Mutati Zultan. The diplomat-salesman accepted a large order for the new minigyros, which he knew Meshdi would distribute to his own people, despite his professed security concerns. The gyrodome and minigyros would suggest this course of action to him subconsciously, and he would not be able to resist.

This Adurian was much more than a diplomat, or a salesman. As VV Uncel departed, he was exceedingly pleased. Soon a large segment of the Mutati population would be influenced in their decision-making processes by the minigyros.

The Zultan was not going to get what he expected.

Chapter Twelve

The love between father and son should be simple, but the reality is far different.

—Prince Saito Watanabe

On the grounds of his Ecological Demonstration Project, Master Noah Watanabe knelt in a meadow and dug his hands into soft, loamy soil around the roots of plants. The sun-warmed Canopan dirt had a calming effect on him, especially now, shortly after a warm summer rain. The muscular man wore a khaki, sleeveless tunic and short, matching breeches. His knees were damp, but he hardly noticed.

This planet is alive
, he thought.
Just like the back country people say.

He was thinking of a superstitious legend, one found all over the galaxy, among various sentient races. On Canopa the primitive people called their planet “Zehbu,” while on other planets the living entity was referred to as “Gaea” or other names, but always in conjunction with a similar story. So-called intellectuals dismissed it as a commonly held myth, but Noah believed it was much more than that. Millennia ago there had also been a legend of a great flood that swept across the planet Earth, and another story about a race of sentient spaceships that traveled the galaxy at tremendous speeds. Both “myths” proved to be accurate, so he was confident that one day everyone would also come to accept the fact of living planetary organisms. He could only hope this would be the case. His entire environmental movement was closely allied with the concept.

Zehbu. The people living on your surface are only as healthy as you are.

A tiny yellow field sparrow swooped low, and landed on the grass a couple of meters away. As Noah watched from his kneeling position, the bird looked up at him, tilting its head comically.

Noah smiled softly, then gazed at the distant blue-green hills. Philosophically, he believed that all galactic races, as well as every genus of flora and species of fauna, functioned best if they worked in harmony, filling ecological niches. He loathed the rapacious industries of his father and the other merchant princes, valuing profits above all else. They were ruining every planet where they were involved, stripping minerals and polluting the air, water and ground, caring nothing of the future generations who might live in those places. Most Human businessmen took the short view of events, doing whatever it took to fill their purses with money. Noah, also an entrepreneur but with environmentally friendly operations, took what he considered to be a much longer view.

He had attempted to contact a number of third world alien races to enlist them into his activist organization, but the vast majority of them were suspicious of him, and preferred to keep to themselves. With the exception of the Tulyans, they scoffed openly or paid no heed when his representatives told them that his beliefs were similar to theirs, that all planets needed to be treated with respect and preserved for future generations. As far as most of them were concerned, no matter the promises or assurances of Noah Watanabe, he was not worthy of trust.

He was, after all, the son of a greedy merchant prince.

Something touched the back of Noah’s shoulder, and he straightened. The little yellow bird came into view again, perched close to his face. After a few seconds, it chirped and flew away.

Noah heaved a sigh, and prepared to catch a shuttle. In less than an hour he would be inside EcoStation, his laboratory complex in geostationary orbit over Canopa, always directly above his unique wildlife preserve and farm. Up there he conducted genetic studies on exotic plants and animals under strict, uncontaminated conditions.…

Just before boarding the shuttle, he received word about his father’s grave injuries, and that he had fallen into a coma. Hearing the news, Noah went cold inside. Prince Saito Watanabe had betrayed his own son, and had somehow been caught in his own trap. It seemed fitting.

Nonetheless, a small part of Noah grieved.

* * * * *

Tesh no longer had feelings for him.

For almost a week, her former boyfriend had not returned to the country estate that was his principal residence. Instead, Dr. Bichette stayed in a CorpOne apartment near the Prince’s cliffside villa, where his important patient lay, gravely wounded. According to a telebeam message that the doctor sent to Tesh at the estate, he wanted her to join him at the apartment.

But she wasn’t interested.

His first message had arrived three days ago, and she had not responded to it yet. Additional demands arrived each day, and this morning he had sent her two more … each more importunate than the one before.

Since Bichette’s departure, Tesh Kori and Anton Glavine had spent a lot of time together, but had remained in separate quarters. There had been no sexual intercourse, but not due to any reticence on her part. She had tempted the young man in every way she knew (short of disrobing), and he
had
shown considerable interest. He did not appear to be a homosexual in any sense, either, but for some reason he was resisting his own natural urges, holding back and not saying why. Perhaps he wanted to get to know her better before committing himself; he certainly asked her a lot of questions about her background.

But Tesh felt she was making progress anyway. They had taken walks together through the forests on Dr. Bichette’s property, and Anton had kissed her once on the mouth for a few seconds before pulling away, revealing in his demeanor that he was struggling with his own willpower. Soon he would come to her; she sensed it.

In response to Anton’s queries, Tesh had provided him with creative answers, fragments of truth painted on wide canvases of lies. She couldn’t possibly reveal her real identity to him, for that was beyond the comprehension of a
humanus ordinaire
.

The Parvii race, like its distant Human cousins, required regenerative sleep, but not nearly as much. That night as Tesh slept alone, she remembered … and remembered. Her unconscious thoughts seemed to drift off into deep space, to a far-away galactic fold where her people swarmed by the millions whenever there was trouble.…

She awoke with a start and opened her eyes. The images had seemed so real, as if she were again with all of her companions in their hidden sanctuary, responding to the commands of Woldn, their revered leader.

From her bed she heard a noise, and saw a crack of light at the doorway that soon widened, as illumination streamed in like yellow sunlight. A shape filled the doorway, profiled against the brightness.

Anton Glavine.

He closed the door, and she heard him moving around inside the room, without seeing him. Moments later he crawled into bed with her, and she felt the warmth of his body against hers. She had been hoping for this, and had kept her physical magnification system in operation, making her appear to be a normal-sized woman. Otherwise, she thought with a smile, he might not have been able to find her tiny body under the bed coverings.

Soon Tesh forgot about her dream, and about everything else. Except for her mounting passion.

Chapter Thirteen

Tulyans and Parviis pilot podships in different ways. In both methods, it involves telepathic control over the Aopoddae, but Tulyans—unlike Parviis—actually merge into the flesh of the pods, changing the appearance of the spacefaring vessels so that they develop scaly skin, protruding snouts and a pair of narrowly slitted eyes. Why, in view of that remarkable symbiosis, are we Parviis more dominant over podships than Tulyans? This is a great enigma, and a blessing from the Universal Creator.

—The Parvii View of Divinity

A creature with bronze, reptilian skin piloted a grid-plane low over the surface of Canopa, a small aircraft that bore the green-and-brown markings of the Guardians. From the air Eshaz surveyed conditions below, blinking his pale gray eyes as he searched for subtle signs on the ground, for even the smallest indications of trouble. Like all of the people of his race he was extremely old, dating back to a time when Tulyans were stewards of the entire galaxy.

Those times were long gone. Now the Tulyans filled in where they could, performing their specialized, unselfish tasks … even if they had to work for others. Eshaz’s Guardian superior, Noah Watanabe, had complete faith in him and in scores of other Tulyans in his employ, permitting them to operate unsupervised on a number of planets, monitoring ecological conditions. In the process, the reptilian men and women submitted regular reports to Noah … but they also performed other tasks on their own that they could never reveal to any Human.

Wherever possible, Tulyans tried to meld into society, be it Human or otherwise. In the process, they visited planets, asteroids, moons, and mass clusters, and in some of those places they found environmental protection measures already in place. None, however, were as extensive or as well thought out as those instituted by Noah Watanabe and his Guardians. That one man had, to his credit, found a way to enhance and restore natural systems while making a great deal of money.

How odd Humans are
, Eshaz thought.
The worst polluters imaginable, and the most careless, but
they are the most creative, too.

For a moment the Tulyan had an unexpected thought, that Humans, despite their glaring flaws, could possibly be the greatest hope for the salvation of the cosmos, for the restoration of Timeweb. How ironic that would be, if it proved to be true. But every Tulyan knew differently. Only Eshaz’s own people could save the web, through the caretakers they sent out on clandestine missions.

As Eshaz flew over a dry river bed at the base of a cliff, a cloud of glassy dust rose from below and blocked the large front porthole of the grid-plane. The normally quiet engines whined and sputtered, and the craft spiraled toward the ground. He fought desperately for control, jabbing his fingers against the touch pads on the instrument panel.

Tulyans could live for hundreds of thousands, even millions of years, but were subject to accidental death. Eshaz bore the scars of countless injuries, yet he had been fortunate, exceedingly fortunate. He and his kinsmen were immune to disease or any form of bodily degeneration, and had remarkable powers of recovery from injury. But they were not immortal.

At the last possible moment, just before it touched the ground, the grid-plane pulled up and then swooped back into the sky, rising above a looming, rainbow-crystal cliff face. Eshaz went higher this time, to avoid whatever was occurring down there. Moments later he brought the plane around, circled the glittering cliff, and descended toward the riverbed. He saw the swirling dust again, but this time he remained at a safer altitude.

A small golden circle adorned the lapel of his Guardian uniform, which had been custom-fitted by a Human tailor to conform with the unusual contours of his alien body. The golden circle was the sigil of the Tulyan race, representing eternity. It was a design found everywhere in their arcane society: on their clothing, on the hulls of their ships, and on the sides of their buildings.

Today the mission of this highly intelligent race was much more limited than it had been in ancient times. Now a comparatively few Tulyans traveled the galactic sectors, performing fine ecological adjustments wherever necessary, trying to restore delicate environmental balances that had been disturbed by the careless practices of the galactic races. Humans were not alone in the damage they caused.