Timeweb Trilogy Omnibus (153 page)

“And they just left them here?”

“As far as I can tell. In another module I’ve reactivated sixty-two machines and put them to work. I’ve given each of them a name. I always prefer to make the robots more personal to each other and connected to their unit, instead of using typical machine codes. This way, it seems more Human to me.”

Noah followed Jimu through two modules, then boarded another lift with him. On an upper level, the Guardian leader found more robots working, and a small Tulyan woman speaking with them. He recognized her as Zigzia, the webtalker who had sent cross-space messages for him in the past.

“Better connect your breathing apparatus,” Jimu said. “We’ll be going through a module that has no air. We’ve got an emergency gravitonics system working in most modules, but you’ll notice some difference. We’re only doing the emergency repairs you ordered, but there’s still a lot of work to do, depending upon what you decide to do with the station.”

Spotting Noah, Zigzia broke away from her conversation and joined him, as Jimu led the way onto another module. Noah almost gagged from the stench, and soon he saw why: bodies and body parts were stacked along the sides of the corridor and in adjoining rooms. Some of the doors to those rooms were damaged or blocked, and didn’t close all the way. From earlier reports, Noah knew to expect this, but it was impossible to prepare himself for the gruesome reality. He had told the reconnaissance- and robotic-repair teams not to jettison any of the bodies. They deserved proper ceremonies. This, and the identification of the victims, were among many details that still needed attention. He had already set that in motion, and expected a mortuary and burial team to arrive in a few days.

For the moment, though, he needed to find out what had occurred here, and he was anxious to meet with the Tulyan experts.

As Noah looked around at the damaged space station, he couldn’t help wondering if it was really worth salvaging. It would be no small task to repair it, which would require time and the allocation of additional robotic assets that might be more appropriately used elsewhere. There was also the problem of transporting it to a more suitable location, either orbiting Canopa or Siriki. That might be accomplished by breaking it up into sections and loading them into podship cargo holds. In one of the earlier reports, Jimu had estimated that this would involve seven or eight sections, and three or four podships to transport them.

But now, seeing EcoStation firsthand, Noah reminded himself of the reason he had ordered the makeshift repairs that were occurring now. His famed School of Galactic Ecology had once been here, filled with classroom and laboratory facilities. This orbiter was much more than machinery, much more than the sum of its tortured modules and shredded parts. It represented something immensely important—a potentially powerful source of inspiration for humankind—and the determined conviction that the galaxy would survive against all odds, even in the face of warfare and the collapsing infrastructure. Wherever he placed it, EcoStation could become a beacon in the cosmos.

It was very personal for him. Noah had strong feelings for the facility, and a sense that he needed to connect with his past in order to counter the flurry of changes around him, thus reconnecting to a time when he began to call himself and his followers “eco-warriors.”

Jimu and Zigzia led him into one of the original school sections that had been converted into a gambling hall. Now it didn’t look like either, with overturned, smashed equipment and gaming pieces piled against the walls. “This way, please,” the webtalker said, pointing out an improvised divider wall at the center. Entering the hall, Noah found four other Tulyans, seated at a large table.

“Master Watanabe,” one of the Tulyans said, rising with his companions and bowing. It was Inya Vato, head of the reconnaissance team. “Please, take a seat.” He gestured toward the head of the table.

When Noah sat down, the others slipped back into their places along the sides. Jimu and Zigzia stood, looking on.

“Our first assumptions proved to be correct,” Vato said. “This space station fell through a timehole into another galaxy. Then, somehow, it was knocked back into this one. On the modular hulls and other parts, there are spectral traces of alien materials, not found anywhere in this galaxy. Telltale signs that it has been someplace else.”

“Is that why the hulls glow faintly green now?” Noah asked.

“No,” one of the other Tulyans said, a bulky male with wide, slitted eyes. “We treated the space station to make it less susceptible to timeholes, in case any more appear. A film that acts as a repellent.”

“Is it like the healing dust I’ve seen caretakers use?” Noah asked.

“It has some similar properties. This is a liquid variation that adheres to the hull.”

While listening to the Tulyans, Noah went to one of the magnaviewers by the window, a double-mirror unit that bathed him in light when he looked through it. First he located his own space-moored podships, six in all, including three that had arrived earlier with the reconnaissance and repair teams. Then, focusing on the surface of the planet Yaree, Noah saw what looked like a Yareen military base on the ground, and considerable activity there. Black military shuttles and other small aircraft taxied on an airfield and took off, one after the other.

Suddenly, orbital space filled with orange-and-gray warships, closing in on EcoStation. Noah pushed Zigzia out of the way, and opened a link to the six Liberator podships that were moored a short distance away.

“Mayday!” Noah shouted.

His podships were already in motion, with five of them going into a defensive formation. In a prearranged maneuver, the sixth sped away and split space in a burst of green light.

“We sent for reinforcements!” an officer shouted over the line.

“Zigzia,” Noah said, looking at the Tulyan. “Can you transmit an emergency message to the Tulyan Elders?”

“I can try, but the web isn’t in great condition between here and the starcloud, so I’ll have to use alternate transmission routes.” She thumped heavily out into the corridor. Noah wasn’t sure where she would attempt to make the contact, but knew that Tulyans could see the web where others couldn’t.

Noah’s remaining podships had their space cannons pointed toward the advancing warships, and fired. The HibAdu vessels were all conventional craft, but bristling with weapons. So far he didn’t see any of their lab-pods, but suspected they were nearby.

Some of the advancing HibAdu ships burst into flames, but others changed course quickly and sped toward the Liberator vessels at new angles. One of the defending podships exploded, and the four others drew back toward the space station in a last-ditch shielding effort.

But Noah had a sinking, hopeless feeling. He was badly outnumbered, and reinforcements could not possibly arrive in time.…

Chapter Fifty-Five

Everything in this galaxy is linked to everything else.

Nothing is really detached, no matter how much it seems to be.

—Textbook introduction, School of Galactic Ecology

Unknown to Noah, the podship that escaped the HibAdu attack was among the oldest and most experienced of the spacefaring Aopoddae. In ancient times the vessel had been known as Diminian, and it had been present in the earliest days of the galaxy. Even then, from the outset, there had been problems with the webbing infrastructure—and those conditions bore ominous parallels with those of modern times. The galaxy had been fresh and new in the beginning, but with podship travel and other conditions the infrastructure became worn and frayed rather quickly in many places … in the equivalent of only a few thousand years. This was one of the reasons that the first Tulyan caretakers had been dispatched to perform repairs, and afterward for regular maintenance duties.

With seasoning, the webbing actually became stronger and more able to withstand podship travel and other cosmic conditions, but there were always weak points that appeared from time to time, requiring the attention of the expert caretakers. Many of those weak points proved to be chronic, and had been among the most difficult to keep in good repair during the current crisis of galactic decay. With his long and perfect memory Diminian knew all of this, and knew better than any podship how to take alternate routes. Though he did not communicate in words, he had other means of sensing the emergency of the HibAdu attack on the space station. Thus the return flight to Siriki, which Noah had expected to take an hour or more, required only four minutes.

The Tulyan pilot, with his own means of communicating with both Aopoddae and Humans, delivered the mayday call to Noah’s command headquarters, where Liberator officers sprang into action. When Diminian’s ship arrived, Subi Danvar was in orbital space near Siriki, commanding a military exercise involving eight hundred podships and the Mutati warships that had been sent from Canopa. For the maneuvers, Acey and Dux were acting as Subi’s personal aides on the primary vessel.

Over a comlink, Subi informed all pilots and officers of the new mission, along with the astronomical coordinates of Yaree and the orbital position of EcoStation. Then he put the just-returned Tulyan pilot on the connection, to provide details for the other pilots on the alternate, but faster, route they needed to take.

When the Tulyan finished giving the information, Subi shouted, “Let’s go!” Moments later, he led the armed podships out into space, leaving the Mutati warships and the bulk of the podship fleet behind.

Even with Noah under attack, they could not risk sending more of their military assets to Yaree. Subi and the other officers were under standing orders to maintain a strong defensive position at Siriki, and not to be drawn away. They did not want to repeat what happened to the Mutati planet of Dij and lose another important world.

Back at Siriki, other officers sent Diminian and his Tulyan pilot to relay the new information to Doge Anton del Velli in the Canopa sector. They also sent a number of additional podships to Yaree, to act as couriers from the battle zone.

* * * * *

Only minutes after the attack on EcoStation, all Liberator forces in the galaxy went onto full alert. At Canopa, Doge Anton received the mayday call. With additional information on favored routes provided by the Tulyan pilot (from his esoteric connection with Diminian), Anton dispatched an additional one thousand podships.

Leaving General Nirella behind with the bulk of the fleet, the young doge led the second rescue force to Yaree. Some of his officers had questioned his decision to go himself, saying he should delegate it to one of them. But Nirella, outranking all of them, had silenced their comments. “Noah is Anton’s uncle, and there has always been a strong bond between them.” Smiling stiffly, she had added, “Besides, I’m the better military commander in this marriage. From a strategic standpoint, it’s essential that I remain with the bulk of the fleet.”

“We’ve already talked it out,” Anton had said, “and I’m on my way.”

In the flagship
Webdancer
, Anton now stood on the command bridge, at the forward viewing window. Beside him, the venerable robot Thinker folded open with a small clattering and clicking of metal. Anton was anxious to help Noah, and for this mission he needed the most brilliant of all sentient machines. He also needed the best pilots, and for the flagship that meant Tesh Kori.

As they sped through space, Thinker said, “I know you want to add my military recommendations to those of your officers, but I need to assess the battle before adding anything to what they told you. I agree with them that we must move quickly to protect the space station, since Noah was last reported aboard it. But conditions will undoubtedly be fluid on the battlefield, and he may have moved.”

“Assuming he’s OK. Noah once told me his ‘immortality’ might be as fragile as the galactic webbing, or might have been compromised by the tainted blood he got from his sister.”

“Our Liberator force from Siriki may already be there.”

“I hope they are,” Anton said.

“As do I. There is something more. A number of the ships and fighters we have with us now were brought back to Canopa by Hari’Adab, after the loss of Dij. We have Mutati officers and soldiers among us.”

“You’re not concerned about their loyalty, are you?”

“No, sir. But for the first time in history, Mutati forces are going into battle under Human command.”

“That is hardly at the top of my mind,” Anton said.

“Nor of mine,” Thinker admitted. He whirred for a moment. Then: “My internal programming informs me that I was just making nervous conversation. Like you, I am very worried about Master Noah.”

* * * * *

At the Tulyan Starcloud, the Council of Elders received the emergency web transmission from Zigzia. They immediately sought out Eshaz, who was restocking his ships with supplies and assigning fresh caretaking crews for yet another mission.

With a small entourage, Elder Kre’n and Dabiggio rode a space platform through the mists that floated around their fabled planets. In one of the protected moorage basins they found Eshaz’s fleet of vessels. All five hundred ships had returned safely, with no reports of HibAdu encounters. But that was about to change.

They docked the platform at a ship that bore no Tulyan face on its prow, but which was known to be the vessel operated personally by Eshaz. Moments later, Eshaz appeared at the main entrance hatch, and then boarded the glax-domed platform.

“We have urgent news from Zigzia,” Kre’n said. “She is with Noah Watanabe at Yaree, where they are under attack by HibAdu forces. Zigzia said a courier flew to Siriki for reinforcements, but she didn’t know when they might arrive.”

“We must mount our own military force then,” Eshaz said. “How many armed podships can you round up?”

“The fifty with you, and three hundred more,” Dabiggio said.

Eshaz formed a scowl on his reptilian face. “Hardly an overwhelming force.”

“No,” the towering Elder said, “but we can make the force look much larger if we also send the nine thousand caretaker podships we have here, along with the armed podships—everything we have here. They don’t contribute much to our starcloud defenses anyway.” He looked at Kre’n, awaiting her comment.