Timeweb Trilogy Omnibus (122 page)

That took some of the load off the young leader’s shoulders. But it had not been an easy journey for Hari to arrive at this point. In sharp contrast to the radical, demented militarism of his own father, he had always considered himself something of a moderate—a person who was willing to talk to the enemies of the kingdom and negotiate with them for the mutual benefit of two very different galactic races. And, just as he loved Parais d’Olor, he was certain that all of humankind was filled with relationships such as the one he knew with her, of people who didn’t care about ancient enmities and just wanted the fighting to stop.

Normally, Hari was not an appeaser; while he was willing to negotiate, he also believed in negotiating from strength. In the present circumstances, however, that tactic was no longer possible. With the total destruction of the beloved Mutati homeworld of Paradij (an event that would always weigh heavily on his conscience), the shapeshifters had sustained a grievous setback. His people were still in possession of considerable military strength in other Mutati star systems, but the command center and the most powerful forces had been lost with Paradij. The brightest of the brightest had been wiped out, along with the greatest of all military minds and a great deal more.

He tried not to dwell on the troubling details, but they kept surfacing to torment him, almost beyond the limit of his endurance. His heart sank at the thought of the great libraries that had been destroyed on the beautiful world, with all of the priceless ancient documents. All of the historical and cultural treasures. And most of all, the lives that had been taken, especially the young ones. Their imagined faces spun through his thoughts, and he fought off tears.

Suddenly, Parais d’Olor burst into the passenger compartment. Excitedly, she almost lifted her wings, though she had no room to fly in there. “One of the Adurians is talking,” she said. “He’s a navigation technician who refused to say anything before. Now he’s telling our officers what we did wrong, and how we were misled by other prisoners.”

“But can we trust him?” Bhaleen asked. He hurried past her, heading for the hold where the prisoners were.

“Wish we had a Tulyan to use the truthing touch on him,” Hari said.

When Hari and the others entered the spacious hold, he saw his officers and soldiers standing around one of the hairless, bulbous-eyed Adurians. The alien was spewing words like automatic projectile fire, technical information about astronomical coordinates and settings on the nav-units. One of Hari’s men was recording him, and another was entering notes on a clip pad.

Finally, the HibAdu soldier fell silent.

Pushing his way past the others, Kajor Bhaleen unfolded a knife and held the blade against the throat of the prisoner. The Adurian technician had dark, bulbous eyes that were comparatively small for his race. His gaze darted around nervously.

“Why should we believe you?” Bhaleen asked. He drew a trickle of yellow blood from the alien’s neck.

“Please don’t kill me! I’m telling the truth because I don’t want to die out here, marooned. I have told your men what they need to do.”

“If he’s lying, we will know soon enough,” Hari said, placing a hand on Bhaleen’s shoulder.

The Kajor hesitated, then withdrew the weapon. He wiped off the blade and folded it back into his pocket.

The Adurian pleaded to be sent back to join his companions, and received assurance from his captors that his actions would be kept secret. Afterward, Mutatis checked and rechecked the new information. All calculations and projections showed that it was correct, and finally the ships got underway again.

Three hours later, the Adurian was found dead in his sleeping quarters, strangled by a fellow prisoner.

Chapter Eleven

Sometimes it is possible to think about a thing too much.

—Master Noah Watanabe

For weeks, the Liberator fleet had been in the Parvii Fold, occupied with essential tasks. The complete vanquishing of the Parviis and their flight from the galactic pocket had only been the beginning. Now, at last, virtually all of the podships had Tulyan pilots and the galactic pocket had been secured against the return of enemy swarms, to prevent them from ever using it as a home base, or an area of racial recuperation.

In addition to their concerns about Parvii survivors, the Tulyans in the Liberator force had devoted themselves to preparing the vast Aopoddae fleet for deep-space galactic recovery operations, matching them up with pilots and taking steps to remove and replace the ancient bonds that Parviis had placed on the sentient spacecraft in order to control them.

Inside the main corridor of the flagship
Webdancer
, Noah had just spoken with Tesh Kori. Then she had returned to her isolated position in the sectoid chamber, from which she would pilot the vessel in the Parvii manner. She was about to get underway, but this time fleet command had decided that the big flagship would be among the last of the vessels to depart for the Tulyan Starcloud. For hours now, the rest of the fleet had been streaming out through the Asteroid Funnel, into deep space.

As Noah hurried through the gray-green corridors of the vessel, he had mixed feelings. Some of his companions, including Anton del Velli and Subi Danvar, had said they hoped the entire Parvii race went extinct, for the greater good of the galaxy. To Noah that sounded horrific, but privately he’d admitted that it did make some sense. Still, he wanted to believe it was overkill, so he had been telling the others that there were worthwhile Parviis in the race. Tesh Kori had proven that, and her intentions had been verified by the Tulyan truthing touch.

If only the remaining Parviis could be separated from the Eye of the Swarm and his influences, many of the race might be rehabilitated. For that matter, while Noah had seen the survivors through a Timeweb vision, and they had been hovering near the bolt hole on the other side, he wasn’t at all certain if Woldn remained with them. For security purposes, he had to assume they still had the same leader, and that he remained a danger.

Noah stopped as something small scurried past his feet and disappeared around a corner. He’d gotten a good look at it, and his eyebrows lifted in surprise. A dark brown roachrat.

“On a podship?” he murmured. Then, considering it more, he felt confident that the podship could selectively kill the rodent if desired. The sentient spacecraft must be aware of its presence (and perhaps others), just as it was aware of the pilot and passengers aboard.

Continuing down the corridor, Noah entered the passenger compartment, which was filled MPA and Red Beret soldiers and the noise of conversations among them. He nodded to Doge Anton, who was conversing with one of his officers.

Finding a chair by a porthole, Noah sat down and gazed outside, at large and small stones tumbling by in the Asteroid Funnel, obstacles that Tesh eluded skillfully. Previously the stones had only tumbled in one direction. Now Noah noticed them coming from both ends of the funnel, at varying speeds. Many of them bounced off the hull, transmitting dull thuds to the interior, but Tesh kept the ship going. Finally, the huge fleet was getting underway.

When Noah’s ship reached open space, he felt a slight vibration in the chair and in the deck, which meant they were on a rough section of podway, where the strands of the paranormal infrastructure were frayed. Ahead, he saw other Aopoddae ships veering onto a side podway, and presently Tesh followed.

Sitting by the porthole, Noah ran a finger up his left forearm, beneath the long sleeve of the tunic. Feeling the rough skin on the arm, he still didn’t want anyone to know about it yet, perhaps never. The gray-and-black streak ran from his wrist all the way up his arm to the shoulder, and down the front of his torso. Grayness now covered the spot beside his belly button where his sister had stabbed the dermex into him, but the vein had not started there. In his questing mind, this did not necessarily mean that she was not the cause of his strange physical changes. In fact, he strongly suspected that she had something to do with the phenomenon, perhaps as a catalyst.

But beyond anything Francella might have had to do with his metamorphosis, it was as if …

He took a deep breath before continuing the thought.

Noah feared thinking about it, and couldn’t imagine it really being true, but his skin definitely looked like that of a podship hull. On a much smaller scale, of course, but the colors and texture were remarkably alike.

Now, as he had done previously, he touched the actual podship skin, the interior of the wall. This time the creature did not tremble in fear.

A note of progress
, Noah thought.

He made an attempt to connect with Timeweb again, but after several moments he realized it was to no avail, perhaps because the vessel was not nudging up against a galactic membrane like the last time. Apparently, the linkage to podway strands was not enough, perhaps due to breakages in the infrastructure. But as Noah withdrew his hand and stood straight, he realized that he was developing a headache, and it was quickly growing intense.

He heard the voices of fellow passengers around him. Motioning to a tall Red Beret soldier, Noah asked if he had anything to help his headache.

“I have just the thing, sir,” he said. “Acupuncture robotics.”

Noah nodded. He’d tried the technique once, and it had worked.

The soldier activated a small acu-robot—the size of a freckle—that scampered over Noah’s skull and through his hair, along the scalp. He barely felt the needle prick, just a little tickle. Gradually Noah’s thoughts calmed and his head began to feel better. But he still had an ache in the back of his head. In an attempt to relax more, Noah raised the back of his chair and leaned his head against a pad.

While he was able to tune out the conversations around him, his mind continued to churn, dredging up a panoply of thoughts—from the most minuscule to the most significant.

Abruptly, Noah felt a surge in his mind. Now, through sharp lances of eye pain he saw an internal vision of the planet Canopa, and a huge timehole near it, just beyond the atmosphere. The hole spun like a pale gray whirlpool, encircled by a luminous band of green light.

The headquarters of the Merchant Prince Alliance was on Canopa now, along with Noah’s roots … the birthplace of virtually everyone in his family, going back for many generations. But his mother, father, and even his vile sister were all gone, and Noah had created new roots for himself around the galaxy, with successful business operations involving ecological recovery operations. Until crises—one on top of another—interrupted.

The timehole grew larger, and the planet drew closer to it. He wondered if this was reality. He thought it was, but there were so many unanswered questions about the paranormal realm.

Canopa was Noah’s homeworld, and he felt a deep sadness at the prospect of its loss. If the entire planet disappeared into the hole and presumably into the adjacent galaxy, he assumed that all life on the world would perish. For him it was more than personal feelings; it was a galactic ecology issue and a military matter. It was the loss of his personal and Human underpinnings, and extremely unsettling to him. But from this remote distance, what could he do to rescue Canopa?

Squinting, he saw an orbital station move into view and drift near the timehole. With a start, he realized it was EcoStation, which the former Doge Lorenzo had renamed the Pleasure Palace, and which he used as a gambling casino. Noah missed the facility that had long been close to his heart, and a source of immense pride for him.

Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the images of Canopa, the space station, and the timehole faded away. Noah felt an immense emptiness at the potential cataclysm, and bemoaned his inability to do anything to prevent it.

He would send a message to Canopa as soon as possible to warn them, and would alert the Tulyan Council of Elders to send a repair team—in case the images proved to be true. Inexplicably and against all of his logic and moral base, he worried more about EcoStation than anything. He wasn’t proud of the thought and didn’t understand it, but it lingered with him nonetheless.

Chapter Twelve

We wear our mortal skins like cloaks, protecting us until the fabric rots away. Then at last we are left naked, exposed to the entropy of the universe.

—A saying of Lost Earth

Princess Meghina of Siriki had led an interesting life.

One of the most beautiful women in the galaxy, she had married the Doge Lorenzo del Velli twenty-two years ago, when she was only fourteen. As her loveliness became renowned throughout the realm, she had—with her husband’s concurrence—become a courtesan to other powerful noblemen in the Merchant Prince Alliance. An independent woman, she had lived separately in a marvelous palace on the planet Siriki, and ostensibly bore seven daughters for Lorenzo. Afterward, having escaped the destruction of her homeworld by Mutati military forces, she had moved to the orbital gambling facility over Canopa, to live with her husband.

There, her darkest secrets had been revealed. Through intrigues by Francella Watanabe, she had been exposed as a Mutati, but one who had always wanted to be Human, and whose shapeshifting cellular structure had locked into Human form. Her daughters, it turned out, had all been fake pregnancies. She had never given birth to any of them. The MPA public, and Lorenzo himself, had ultimately been sympathetic to her, despite the deceit.

Living with her husband on the orbital gambling facility for some time now, she had become a mysterious, glamorous figure, occasionally seen out on the gaming floor, but more often she frequented the back corridors and glittering chambers of the facility, where she spent time with a most unusual group of friends.…

One evening, Lorenzo invited Meghina and these friends to dinner in his elegant dining hall. Months earlier, he had been forced to abdicate as doge, in part because of the revelations about Meghina, which his political enemies used to their advantage. Now the nobleman was essentially an outcast on the orbiter, living in a velvet-lined cocoon.