Timeweb Trilogy Omnibus (131 page)

Agryt
.

Walking down the corridor, Eshaz reached the sectoid chamber, and found the access hatch open as expected, revealing a glowing green enclosure beyond. The podship awaited his commands.

Eshaz took a deep, satisfied breath and stepped across the threshold into the core of the vessel. The access hatch closed behind him, bathing him in green luminescence, but he was not afraid. In the age-old way of his people, the Tulyan touched the glowing flesh and merged into it.

On the prow of the podship, Eshaz’s face appeared, very large now in his metamorphosed state. He felt euphoric, like a reborn creature ready to leap and frolic across vast expanses of the heavens. But he knew he could not do that, could not do anything trivial or selfish with this critically important assignment that had been entrusted to him.

Instead, as the leader of a five-hundred-ship ecological repair team, Eshaz guided Agryt around the other vessels assigned to him, signaling to them telepathically, as they had practiced. Tulyan faces appeared on the prows of ship after ship, and the vessels fell into formation behind him, their countenances rigid and expressionless.

The Tulyan caretaker had many things on his mind, the concerns of the day. And of all those matters, one surfaced above others. Noah had been telling everyone that he sensed a “terrible danger” out in the cosmos, beyond anything they already knew. Eshaz wondered if his friend could possibly be right, and if so, what it might conceivably be. Something to do with Galara that was even worse?

A chill ran down his spine. In this galaxy, anything seemed possible.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Just as there are byways and hidden passages within any sentient mind, so too is it with larger groups of living beings. As individuals, and as groups, conscious organisms have an obsession to do things that others do not know about. It is their way of controlling situations—or of altering their perception so that they believe they are in control.

—Thinker, data bank file * * * * *34ΩÆØ

Having been summoned to his homeworld of Adurian, the Ambassador waited patiently for the dignitaries to arrive. His pulse quickened. Uncel had received notification that the three leaders of the HibAdu Coalition would finally identify themselves, and that they would make a major military announcement. At last, he would learn who they were!

VV Uncel stood with other diplomats and local Adurian leaders, all gathered in a grand reception hall that had been converted from the remains of an old spacecraft. A buzz of anticipation filled the air, and people kept looking up at the speaking balcony and at the grand staircase that descended to their level, where the triumvirate might appear.

In its original form the large spacefaring vessel had contained numerous reception halls and meeting rooms, and had been built in an opulent style for one of the early Adurian emperors, Oragem the Third. The walls and ceilings were hand-painted and framed in gold filigree along the moldings and on the railings and banisters.

A tall Churian with thick red eyebrows worked the gathering, offering drinks that he balanced precariously on two trays.

“I’ll have a ku-royale, please,” Uncel said, pointing.

Nodding, the Churian contorted a very flexible leg that had long, prehensile toes on the foot, which he used to grasp the drink and pass it on to Uncel.

As the servant moved away, the Ambassador took a long sip of the alcoholic beverage, and tasted its delicate, minty sweetness. Surrounded by conversations around him in which he was not taking part, he took a few moments to reflect. Though born to wealth and privilege, Ambassador VV Uncel had always worked hard to improve himself, and took pride in his achievements. A pureblood Adurian born on the planet of the same name, his father had been a successful biochemist who earned numerous patents, while his mother had been a product designer who worked on the team that developed
Endo
, the most popular of all Adurian games.

Educated at the elite Sarban University in the capital city, Uncel had always known he would succeed. Everyone who knew him commented on his many attributes, especially his keen intelligence, his way of getting along with virtually anyone, and his burning desire to succeed. He had graduated first in his class.

For years, Uncel had been on the ascendancy in his career, culminating with his appointment as Ambassador to the Mutati Kingdom at the very young age of sixty years, quite youthful by the biologically-enhanced Adurian standards. In his professional life he had known the Adurian emperor and his advisers very well, and had established a vital communication line with the Mutatis and their difficult Zultan, Abal Meshdi.

Uncel had even been in on the early planning sessions of the Hibbil and Adurian rulers, in which they resolved to form a clandestine alliance to defeat both the Mutati Kingdom and the Merchant Prince Alliance. When the HibAdu alliance got underway, however, Uncel had been frustrated to find himself increasingly out of the loop, and that he was one of the people who only received information on a “need to know” basis. In answer to his queries about various issues, the Adurian Emperor and his advisers began to defer to what they called the Royal Parliament, which they said was making the key decisions about HibAdu military plans. Three names and titles had surfaced in that governing body, but not their faces: High Ruler Coreq, Premier Enver, and Warlord Tarix.

Prior to that, Uncel had never heard of the trio or their governing body, and he’d never been able to determine where they met. Rumor held that the Royal Parliament had been established on one of the secondary Hibbil worlds, which gave Uncel concern. But his life was busy with diplomatic assignments, and he saw the immense war machine building all around him, with thousands of factories gearing up to produce armaments and laboratory-bred podships, all necessary for the upcoming attacks on the enemy.

A career diplomat, VV Uncel had always managed to land on his feet when political winds blew, as they invariably did. With the HibAdu Coalition and weapons manufacturing in full swing, he fell into a pattern of just playing his part as a diplomat and as a spy against the Mutatis, without totally understanding what was occurring on his own side. But he had faith that it would all turn out for the best. Mutatis and Humans were the most loathsome of galactic races, and deserved the terrible punishment that was being delivered upon them.

“Another drink, sir?” The Churian was back.

“No.” Uncel watched as the prehensile foot extended again, and took the glax from him. The servant drifted away.

In one of the high points of his career, Ambassador Uncel had tricked the Mutatis into using Adurian gyrodomes and minigyros, devices that weakened their brains in subtle ways and made them easier to conquer. Afterward, his HibAdu superiors had sent him a laudatory message telling him he had done an excellent job of softening up the enemy for the imminent attack.

Uncel prided himself on an ability to get along with people he did not like, while artfully concealing any antipathies he felt from them. That included not only the Mutati Zultan, but the duplicitous little Hibbil, Pimyt. Though Uncel and Pimyt worked closely together on the Hibbil Cluster Worlds, Uncel had never trusted the furry little devil. Something troubled him about Pimyt’s red-tinged eyes, which seemed to conceal too much. While Pimyt professed to know as little as Uncel himself, the Ambassador did not entirely believe him. Pimyt was the sort of person who had schemes within schemes, and fallback positions to protect himself while sacrificing others.

As attaché to the former Doge Lorenzo del Velli, Pimyt had connections to leaders of the Merchant Prince Alliance, and for all Uncel knew he might have spilled the plans to them. Of course, the HibAdus had systems to check on such things, a way of taking cellular samples from Pimyt and others (and even from Uncel), samples that they could read in laboratories to obtain information. Uncel’s own father had developed the biotechnology and had been well-rewarded for it. Though VV held no legal rights to the particular patents involved with reading cells, since the patents were considered high-security assets of the state, he recalled how as a child his father had shown him that biological cells contained memories—memories that could be read in order to obtain evidence of a crime or of disloyalty to the government. It was the ultimate police tool, and a key contribution of the Adurians to the HibAdu Coalition.

But Hibbils were crafty. They possessed significant technology of their own, and might even have secret methods of thwarting the cellular lie-detection system of the Adurians. Pimyt was with the Humans now, ostensibly on a clandestine HibAdu assignment. Uncel would like to be a proverbial fly on the wall around that one.

The buzz of conversation intensified around him, and he heard exclamations. Looking up at the speaking balcony, Uncel gasped at the sight of three peculiar figures standing there, all dressed in orange-and-gray robes. HibAdu colors.

From their bodies and facial appearances, he thought two were men and one a woman. They were quite different from any galactic race he had ever seen before, but familiar to him at the same time, in a haunting and disturbing sort of way. A single word came to his mind, one he dared not utter, because he strongly suspected that these were the HibAdu leaders. At long last, they were presenting themselves.

Freaks
.

He couldn’t help the thought, though he knew it was dangerous. Their heads were of the Adurian insectoid shape, with large, bulbous eyes. But the eyes were pale yellow instead of the darker shades typical of Adurians, while their heads and exposed hands had Hibbil features. All three leaders were fur covered, and they had stunted bone structures. These were laboratory-grown people, horrific hybrids of the two races.

The male freak in the center was the tallest, if he could be called tall. Throughout the reception hall, no one spoke a word, and everyone stiffened up. Uncel felt a shortness of breath, and tried to calm himself. He hoped it was just a joke, something the Adurian lab scientists had cooked up.

“I am High Ruler Coreq,” the robed monster at the center said, in a whiny voice that sounded Adurian. Motioning to his left and right, he identified the other male as Premier Enver and the female as Warlord Tarix, and then added, “We are, as many of you have surmised, laboratory-bred, but make no mistake about it. This does not make us inferior to any of you in any way. On the contrary, we are far superior in every way imaginable.”

“Gaze upon us and see the future,” Premier Enver said. This one sounded more like a Hibbil, with a deeper voice. “One day, when the time is right, an entire race of HibAdus will be created, and there will be no need for any other races to exist.”

A chill ran down VV Uncel’s spine, and he heard an uneasy murmuring around him.

Warlord Tarix had something to add, in an echoing voice that carried deadly undertones. “Our enemies are on their knees, making their last stands. We have conquered every Human world except for two, and every Mutati world save for one.” She smiled cruelly, revealing sharp white teeth. “They cannot hold out much longer.”

Then, eerily, the three of them spoke in synchronization: “To retain what we have gained, our forces have established impregnable defense systems on every conquered planet. Thanks to Hibbil ingenuity, we have wide-range sensor-guns that sweep considerably more than the areas around pod stations, as the Humans have. Our sensors encompass entire planets. If any unauthorized podship appears, it will be blasted into oblivion.”

The triumvirate began to clap, as if for themselves. Everyone in the reception hall joined in, including Ambassador Uncel, but he felt a dark gloom seeping into his soul.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Those who adapt, survive. This basic rule applies to all living things, and to all places they exist in the universe. Biological creatures, being much smaller and weaker than the natural forces of their surroundings, can only control their environments to limited extents. When things change around them, they must change as well. Or die.

—Master Noah Watanabe, Journal of the Cosmic Sea

It could have been much worse.

At least that was the first impression Princess Meghina got when the space station stopped tumbling and the gravitonics system went back on. The glax-walled gambling room on the orbiter had righted itself, and was lit with soft illumination coming through the windows. But was it really over? And what in the world had happened?

She crawled out from under the gaming table and assessed the bumps and bruises on her face and body. Around her, others did the same. Some were groaning, but as she saw them move, it didn’t look like anyone was seriously injured. Pimyt stood on top of the upside-down gaming table, complaining that one of his hips hurt. His tunic was torn, showing silvery fur on his chest.

Meghina’s dagg whined, and scampered over debris to reach her. The large black animal licked her hand, where a bruise was beginning to show.

“Thank you, Orga ,” she said with a gentle smile. “That makes me feel better already.”

“Are you all right?” It was Kobi Akar, the impeccably dressed Salducian diplomat who was one of her immortal companions. He stood over her, looking down with concern in his dark, close-set eyes. Though he had always been nice enough to her, she’d never really liked him that much. There seemed to be an undercurrent to him, something just beneath the surface that was decidedly unpleasant. Exactly what that might be, she had never been certain. But she didn’t admire the way he sometimes alluded to getting away with things that others could not, because of his diplomatic immunity. Even so, he could be funny and witty at times, and the others in her elite group of elixir-immortals all seemed to like him.

Typical of his race, Akar was sturdily built, with an oblong head, two small, crablike pincers for hands, and a multi-legged underbody concealed beneath a long robe. The Salducians, while trading partners and military allies of the Merchant Prince Alliance, were a galactic race of their own, and had settled in only a small sector of the galaxy.