Timeweb Trilogy Omnibus (146 page)

Flying in a streak toward the crash site, Parais landed. Except for some bumps and bruises the boys were on their feet and looked all right to her.

“Parais!” Dux said. “What are you doing here?”

“Noah sent me,” she said. “We need to move quickly.”

Knowing she had no time to waste, Parais tore off broken tree branches that the aircraft had snagged, and scooped up chunks of disturbed soil. Then she embraced the pile of material in her wings until it all glowed orange and melted into her body, making her into a larger and darker bird. Gradually, the glow subsided.

In absorbing so much organic matter at once, however, the shapeshifter risked compromising her complex internal chemistry, which could result in cellular damage and even death. Bravely and privately, she accepted the risk anyway, since she needed to carry three passengers on her back. With their dense bone structures, Humans were heavier than the Mutatis she typically carried, such as Hari. And that little robot probably weighed as much as the boys combined.

“I sent a distress call to headquarters,” Kekur said, “with the coordinates of this enemy force.”

“Good,” Parais said. She heard soldiers running toward them, shouting commands to each other.

With the transfer of mass complete, the bird looked like a giant black eagle. “Jump on my back and hold onto my feather mane,” she said.

Acey got on first, followed by Dux and the robot. In the early evening light, all were shadowy shapes on the bird’s back.

As the bird got underway Dux shivered in fear, and from the chill wind that cut through his jacket and trousers. He held onto Acey, and behind Dux, Kekur held onto him. At first, Parais flew low over the ground, away from the troops. Finally, with powerful strokes of her massive wings, she lifted into the sky in a great upward arc.

Looking back, Dux saw spotlights illuminate the crash site. But he and his companions were safe, lifting high into the air where the HibAdus could no longer see or harm them.

“I’d better take you back to headquarters,” Parais shouted back.

“No!” Acey shouted.

Just behind him on the eagle’s back, Dux said, “We appreciate your help, Parais, but we need to check on our grandmother. We’ve come all this way to do that, and we don’t want to turn back now. Please, fly us to her.”

For several moments, the bird kept flapping in the same direction. Presently she asked, “Which direction?”

“To the right,” Dux said, “beyond those mountains.”

She changed course. As they flew past the peaks he had designated, an orange moon rose on the horizon, illuminating the way. Though the air was cold, the mountains were not extensive, and presently they saw a valley just ahead.

“She lives on the other side of that valley,” Acey shouted.

The air was warmer there. Below, Dux made out the simple farms and fields of the Barani tribe, in this remote region where he and Acey had spent much of their childhood. Dim lights illuminated the windows of some of the small homes. But soon he saw that all was not well down there.

As they crossed the valley and passed over a small river, the orange moon cast enough illumination for Dux to see heavy destruction of the landscape, leaving its once-distinctive lakes and gnarled hills barely recognizable. Some of the land was broken, as if from seismic activity, and the stream where he and Acey had fished as boys was much wider now, having flooded many of the homesteads.

Nonetheless, the teenagers were still able to find the familiar ramshackle cabin of their grandmother, on cleared ground partway up a slope. The cabin was dark as they landed in a front yard that was cluttered with old household articles and rusty flying machines.

“Grandma doesn’t like surprises,” Acey said, keeping his voice low. “I’d better go ahead on my own and let her know we’re here.”

“God, I hope she’s all right,” Dux said. He waited with the robot and the shapeshifter, watching as Acey climbed a rickety stairway and rapped on the front door, shouting to identify himself. Dux saw a light go on inside, and then the door opened, casting more light across the cluttered yard.

Dux felt a rush of joy, and ran toward the cabin.

“I knew you were too ornery to get killed, Grandmamá,” Acey said to the old woman, using a Barani term of endearment that she liked, but did not use in referring to herself. Dux caught up to them, and the boys hugged her.

“We brought along a couple of friends,” Dux said, motioning back toward the shadows.

Small and deeply wrinkled, Grandma Zelk squinted to see. “Well, tell them to show their faces.” A superstitious woman who spoke unusual dialects, she had a stooped posture and wore a long embroidered dress with large pockets. At her waist hung a stained pouch, with compartments in it filled with her favorite folk medicines. Despite her years, she was tough and wiry-thin from climbing around in the hills, and had always bragged that she could out-hike any man.

When many members of her tribe were enslaved for not paying taxes to Doge Lorenzo, she was not included, since she hid in the backwoods and survived off the land until her pursuers went away. They wouldn’t have wanted to catch up with the old woman anyway. At her waist she also wore her customary handgun in a holster, a weapon that she called her “equalizer”—to be used against any authority figure who might try to apprehend her.

“One of my friends is a robot,” Dux said. “And you should know that the other is a … shapeshifter.”

“A Mutati,” Acey said, “but a good one. She’s big, too, and flew us here on her back.”

“I don’t trust Mutatis,” the old woman said, her voice a low, dangerous growl. “The robot can come in, but not the shapeshifter.”

Dux hurried back to explain the situation to Parais, who stood with her wings tucked in against her sides. She had grown so large that she was bigger than a Tulyan. “That’s all right,” she said, in a voice that sounded very tired. “I have a coat of feathers to keep me warm. I’ll just find a place out here to sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” Dux said.

“I might not be able to get through that doorway anyway. Besides, I see a nice thick canopy of trees to sleep in, and that’s something I have grown accustomed to over the years, from long flights taken around my homeworld of Dij.” She gestured with her beak, showing where she planned to be.

“We’ll check back with you in the morning,” Dux promised. Looking up, he saw that the sky was clear. Maybe it wouldn’t rain during the night, but surely it would get colder than it was now. He shivered in a slight breeze from the mountains, but the bird didn’t seem to feel it.

“Okay,” Parais said. Her voice was weak and didn’t sound good to him, but he assumed she would be better after she had rested.

He joined the others inside, where Grandma Zelk lit a log in the rock fireplace. As she puttered around, preparing tea, she spoke of the spirit world, and especially of Zehbu, the ancient god who was said to live within the molten core of Siriki.

“Interesting data,” Kekur said. He stood by the fireplace as if warming himself there, though he should not have needed to.

“Some people think it’s a lot of silliness,” Acey said to the robot.

“Not necessarily,” the robot said. “In my data banks I have similar stories from other star systems. Conclusion: Your god is a common legend that might very well have a basis in fact.”

The old lady nodded, and said to Acey, “Don’t make Zehbu angry, boy, or he’ll get you for sure.”

“I wasn’t talking about myself,” the young man said. “I was talking about some people.”

“Well those ‘some people’ better not be around here,” she said. “That’s for sure. And don’t you boys come around here with any foolish outsider ideas.”

“We aren’t, Grandmamá,” Dux said. “We came because we’re worried about you. We saw a lot of damage in the valley.”

“The planet’s got a sickness,” the old woman said. She lifted a teapot from the stove, and poured three cups.

Dux held back saying what he’d heard, that the troubles were caused by something that went far beyond Siriki. A disintegrating galactic web and timeholes. His grandmother was stubborn, and would not take any interest in such stories, except to reject them out of hand. Acey kept the information to himself as well.

“Timeholes,” the robot said.

“Eh?” Grandma Zelk said.

“She doesn’t want to hear any nonsense,” Dux said to Kekur. “Do not speak unless we give you permission.”

The robot fell silent.

“I tried giving that order to you boys when you were only knee high,” the stooped woman said. “Dux, you kept quiet, but Acey—I never could get you to shut up.”

“I’m the same as I always was,” Acey said. “And we’re happy to see that you are, too.”

* * * * *

Perched on a low cedar bough, Parais felt sharp lances of pain all over her body, and a deep fatigue that seemed to draw her down into it like quicksand. Struggling for life, gasping for air, she knew that she needed to find a way to reduce her body mass quickly, or she would die. But she had used up a great deal of energy taking on the additional mass and flying here, and now she felt too weak to go through the necessary recovery steps.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Noah has invariably tried to see the positive side of things, despite extreme difficulties. It’s one of the things I love about him. I haven’t been able to see Noah for awhile, but I’ve been told that he seems to be g rowing increasingly darker … as if he is losing some sort of an internal battle.

—Tesh Kori, remarks to Eshaz

Accompanied by men and women in MPA and Guardian uniforms, Tesh boarded a podship at the Canopa pod station, and found a bench seat at the rear. She did not like to magnify herself and ride as a passenger in one of the sentient vessels as she was doing now, but if she wanted to get to Siriki quickly, this was the only choice she had. Doge Anton, while permitting her to visit Noah in this manner, had forbidden her to take her own podship,
Webdancer
, on such a mission.

She thought back on the conversation she’d had with the youthful doge that morning, and of the child growing in her womb.

“Think of what you’re asking,” Anton had said to her. They were standing in the tower of an airgrid station on Canopa, where the Liberators were setting up one of their ground bases. “
Webdancer
is my flagship. I can’t have it flitting around the galaxy on personal missions. What is it you want to discuss with Noah anyway?”

“As I said, sir, it is a personal mission and I’ll only be gone a couple of hours. The round-trip flight shouldn’t take long, and allowing for the time to … “

“My answer is the same. No.”

Tesh had looked away, at airgrid planes landing and taking off on the field, using their vertical take-off and landing systems.

“You and I were once close,” Anton had said, but it was not our fate to remain together for our entire lives. Or, I should say for
my
entire lifetime, in view of your longevity.” He glanced over at his wife, Nirella (who was out of earshot), and exchanged smiles with her. “I’m happy with the choice I made,” he added, “even though you forced it by leaving me.”

“I prefer to say we drifted apart,” she said.

“If I’d been paying attention, I would have noticed that you had a wandering eye. I took you away from Doctor Bichette, and in turn Noah spirited you away from me.”

“Noah and I have no relationship,” she said, bristling.

“Only because there hasn’t been time,” Anton said. “I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other, the way you act around one another. There’s electricity in the air, even when you argue. Anyone can see it.”

“I won’t deny that. All right, I’ll leave
Webdancer
here.”

“Leave the sectoid chamber unsealed, so a Tulyan pilot can operate the vessel if necessary.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Tesh nodded. “Unsealed it will be.”

Now the other podship was loaded with passengers, only around twenty for this trip. The vessel taxied out of the orbital station and prepared to engage with the podways. Tesh saw a burst of green light outside, and then a dimmer, barely perceptible green hue out in space as the vessel sped along one of the strands of Timeweb.

This particular flight was part of a military procedure that General Nirella had established: regular courier runs linking Canopa and Siriki, using designated podships. Since both planets were among the original merchant prince worlds, they still had functioning nehrcom stations at each, a technology that could have been used for communication. However, the Humans now knew that the cross-space communication system had been compromised by Jacopo Nehr’s treacherous brother Gio, who had revealed the secret of the operation to the Mutatis almost a year ago. The Mutatis had, in turn, revealed what they knew to the Adurians. While some of the MPA leaders had suspected that the technology had been leaked for some time now, they now knew details of how it happened—information that had been provided voluntarily by their new allies, Hari’Adab and the Mutatis.

It was early evening on a moonlit night when Tesh rode the shuttle down from the pod station and landed on Siriki. The Golden Palace, which she had seen lit up in past visits, was now darkened for military purposes, as was most of the planet. With modern infratech systems, she knew darkness only provided limited concealment benefits, so she wondered why the authorities didn’t just blaze all the lights they had, as a means of flaunting and aggravating the enemy. Maybe that was the answer; maybe they didn’t want to provoke the emotions of their foe. At least not yet.

Emotions
, she thought.
That’s why I’m here.

Having sent a comlink message down from the pod station, she hoped it had gotten through to Noah. She waited at the main entrance of the terminal. For just twenty minutes, but it seemed like an eternity, as Humans, robots, and Tulyans looked at her in peculiar ways. Around her, everyone seemed to have their lives organized with military precision, but hers was anything but that.

Finally, when she was about to give up and go in search of him, he arrived in a military staff car, driven by a robot. One of the rear doors slid open. Not even getting out, Noah leaned through the opening and said, “Get in. I can only talk for a little while.”