Timeweb Trilogy Omnibus (157 page)

As the big alien woman held his hand, Noah felt the probing of her truthing touch. Another level of Tulyan security, he surmised. But he didn’t mind, and allowed her to complete her task. Finally she removed her grasp, and looking at him, she said, “You may indeed be the one spoken of in our legends.”

“I doubt if I qualify for any legends,” Noah said, with an embarrassed smile.

“More and more of us are agreeing with Eshaz’s assessment,” she insisted. “He thinks you are the first important member of the Human race in the history of the galaxy.”

“Oh, there have been far greater figures than myself,” Noah insisted.

“Perhaps not. You are the man who restored the ecological health of numerous Merchant Prince planets, and then went beyond even that. You are a man of vision. Many of us—myself included—believe that your emergence has triggered the resurgence of the Tulyan race. For the first time in millions of years, we are again dispatching caretaker teams to maintain and repair the web.” She paused. “Only time will tell how successful we are.”

Wrinkling his brow, Noah considered her comments for a moment, while she awaited his response. He remembered an earlier visit to the Tulyan council chamber, when Kre’n first mentioned the legend of a Savior to him. Some of the Elders had looked upon him with a certain reverence at that time, with the notable exception of the big, grumpy one, Dabiggio. Now, it was different. Even Dabiggo seemed to believe.

Presently Noah insisted, “I don’t think I’m the Savior spoken of in your legends. I am a mere Human, with a few quirks. However, I wish to do everything possible to make myself worthy of your respect. Admittedly, I do have certain leadership qualities that might prove helpful to others. As Master of the Guardians, I have been able to inspire others to achieve more than they might have without me. At this time, I find myself in a position to accomplish more than ever before. I hope I am not much more than a man, that I am not evolving into a god of any form, or your Savior. But if anything like that happens, if that is my destination, I shall be prepared to fulfill it.”

“Humbly,” Kre’n said. “I have already read this in your thoughts.”

Noah bowed to her. “Of course.”

“We Tulyans do not die often,” she said, “and we have always been underpopulated for the size of our starcloud. Consequently, we have plenty of space for burial plots. As we told Eshaz, this will be a single ceremony to include timehole and war victims alike, but there will be individual burials in carefully marked graves. Identities will be indicated if known, and there will be genetic charts for each victim. Later, if any of the family members want the remains sent somewhere else, those requests can be accommodated.”

“Thank you. It is very much appreciated.” Looking around, he saw gnarled mountaintops at higher elevations, and pristine lakes in a valley beneath the sentinel perches. It looked like someplace in a fairy tale, and the scenery alone seemed to return some of his strength. He stood tall as he accompanied the Elders to a large, flat stone where they all gathered.

Golden sunlight found its way through the mists of the starcloud, and bathed Noah in warmth. On meadows and grassy slopes around the site, he saw many Tulyans in white robes, standing beside coffins and grave sites that had already been dug. In those coffins were a variety of races. Though most of the timehole victims were Human, there were also Blippiqs, Huluvians, Salducians, and other races, including a couple of unidentified Mutatis who might have been spies sent by the vile Zultan, before his son Hari’Adab took control of the race and changed its alliances. Noah thought of the Mutati who had preferred being Human, Princess Meghina of Siriki, and wondered where she and her immortal companions could possibly be now.

Kre’n straightened her own robes, and stood facing the gravesites. Noah heard her words carrying far out on a warm breeze, without the need of electronics. As the Tulyan leader spoke, hundreds of tiny comets appeared high overhead, and sped through the mists separating the planets.

“We stand upon one of the miracles of our wondrous starcloud,” Kre’n said to the assemblage, as if in answer to Noah’s unspoken question. “This is one of our most sacred transmitting stones, one of the points where our most powerful intellects can stand, and dramatically increase the powers of mindlink. In this day and age, even at this very moment, we cannot afford to let our guard down for a moment.”

On the perimeter of the stone, several Tulyan men and women stood with their faces turned skyward, looking in different directions. They appeared to be in trances, but were undoubtedly watching for any approaching danger.

Kre’n continued: “We are honored to dedicate this sacred site to a new purpose, as the first multiracial graveyard on Tulyan soil. We are part of this great and just war and of the interconnected galaxy, and this is one of our contributions. All Tulyans are pleased to do this. In tribute to these dead, many of whom died honorably fighting for the Liberators, we have brought in a comet for each of them.”

Looking up, she pointed, and the comets put on a spectacular aerial show, speeding this way and that, swooping down almost to the valley floor and then going back up again, high into the ethereal mists. Then, in the blink of an eye, they were gone, as if the comets had taken the spirits of the dead to some other place.

Noah heard a clapping sound in the air, but didn’t see anyone moving their hands to do this. Telepathic clapping? Yes, he decided as he watched the faces of the Tulyans.

Then, looking down at his own hands, which were clasped in front of his body, he saw the gray-black flesh encroaching, moving onto the tops of his wrists. As he absorbed the ongoing ceremony and looked inward at the same time, Noah felt his own self dying. The
old
self. He continued to become something radically different, and found the possibilities both exciting and terrifying.

Whatever was happening to him, Noah wondered how much of it he controlled himself. Earlier, the podships had moved close to the space station without cocooning it at first, making him aware that they were available for him to direct. He had responded by drawing them in around him in a protective fashion, and they had completed their amalgam around EcoStation. It seemed to have been a cooperative, collective effort between himself and them. Now he wondered how much of the changes to his body were of his own volition, and how much could possibly be caused by outside influence.

Focusing hard, he saw the encroaching skin retreat a few centimeters. This told him something. A piece of the puzzle, but not the answer. He allowed the metamorphosis to continue.

I want it
, he thought.
With all of its unknown dangers, I want it
.

But for the moment he resisted the urge, and caused the encroaching skin to retreat back under his clothing. This was not the time, or the place, to permit it to flow over his entire body.

“Please say something now,” Kre’n said. Placing a hand on Noah’s shoulder, she guided him to the spot where she had been standing.

Noah took a deep breath and said, his words carrying out to the assemblage, “Thank you for sharing this special place with me, and with those who are being honored here today. On behalf of the families of the loved ones we are laying to rest, I express their appreciation. By courier, I have also contacted Doge Anton, and he wants me to pass on his heartfelt gratitude to you as well.”

Pausing, Noah looked around, to the gnarled mountain peaks and down to the magical lakes in the valley. Then he said, “Being here, I could almost imagine that there is nothing wrong in the galaxy, that all is in perfect order. But all of us know that this not the case. Sadly, these dead are the proof of it.”

To close the ceremony, Noah asked for a moment of silence. When it was completed, he nodded to Kre’n, who in turn gave a signal to the Tulyans at the gravesites.

Simultaneously, the Tulyans raised their hands, and with their collective psychic energy they lowered the coffins into the ground.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

There are more roads to tragedy than to happiness.

—Ancient observation

As Hari’Adab strode through a corridor on the top floor of the Golden Palace, he hardly noticed the opulence around him, the gilded walls and furnishings, the infinity mirrors, the priceless paintings and statuaries. He had seen such finery before in the Mutati Kingdom, in the palatial residences of his own family. Often in the past he had felt considerable embarrassment for living in luxurious surroundings, considering the impoverished conditions suffered by many of his people. His father (and some of Hari’s advisers) had pointed out to him the necessity of a leader acting and looking like a leader, and of displaying the trappings of success to the populace.

So they said, and Hari had essentially gone along with the role-playing they espoused, but he had also instituted more programs to help the poor than any leader in Mutati history. And he’d done it with layers of anonymity that prevented most people from knowing his involvement. To him, it made no sense to do things for people and then ask for their adoration in return. He didn’t like the equation, just as he’d never liked the thought of praying for himself. For Hari, it was far more important to pray for someone else, just as he had been doing for his beloved Parais.

The Mutati doctors had set up a medical room for the injured aeromutati on the top level of the palace, and they had been tending to her with all known treatments and technology. Since learning of the terrible injury to his lover, the young Emir had been at an emotional nadir. To the extent possible, trying to be vigilant but not interfering, he had overseen her medical care. For two straight days he had hardly left her side, and he was only away briefly now, while they administered treatments that they said would be difficult for him to watch. Parais was experiencing cellular complications that were unique to Mutatis, and she needed surgical procedures to improve the flow of medicines through her body. Hari had tried to stay, but the doctors had prevailed on him, insisting it was best for him, and for the patient. They needed to focus on her, not on his reactions.

Now Hari couldn’t wait to get back inside the room. He came to a stop just outside her door, waiting for it to open. They’d said it would only be a few minutes, but now it had been nearly half an hour. He heard them inside with their instruments and machines, chattering in their arcane medical language. The tones were urgent. Hari felt like bursting inside, but worried about causing harm to Parais.

The HibAdu weapon used on her had been insidious, sending an energy pulse into her body that had expanded and wreaked havoc on her internal organs. In reaction to the violent intrusion, Parais’ cellular structure had gone into retreat, fleeing inward to a place where it thought it could best restore the body. Hari only understand this in generalities, but it had long been known that shapeshifter cells had a racial brain and survival instincts that were not under control of the mind of any individual. In taking control away from Parais, the cells had reverted to a state that was even more ancient and basic than the natural fleshy appearance of a typical Mutati. They reverted to a primitive core, which scientists said was similar to the primordial matter that generated the first Mutati life millions and millions of years ago.

Slowly, hesitantly, Hari walked away from the door. Two uniformed MPA soldiers hurried by, carrying message cubes. They entered a room that Hari knew was one of the offices used by Liberator military commanders, including the remaining officers of the Mutati High Command. The day before, Hari had met briefly with them to discuss how they might allocate their combined military assets to recover the conquered worlds of the Mutati Kingdom. They were considering a military offensive that would start with the Emir’s own planet Dij, and if success was achieved there, they would move on to others.

Heightening the need for this, there had been sickening rumors of atrocities committed against the Mutati people by the invaders, including gruesome public displays in which Hibbils and Adurians had eaten the flesh of their shapeshifter victims. He hoped these were only rumors, the sort that were common in times of war, but a little voice inside told him they were true. He’d long sensed the resentment felt by Adurians toward Mutatis, and Hibbils were known to be vicious little carnivores. Unfortunately, it all added up.

All of the allied officers and political leaders—including Doge Anton, Hari’Adab, and First Elder Kre’n—wanted to rescue and recover every Human and Mutati planet, but they were also worried about the strange absence of large-scale military activity by the HibAdus against Canopa and Siriki. There had been skirmishes and the recent, relatively small battle in the Sirikan back country, but not much other than that. The two MPA planets were like beacons of hope in the bleak war against the HibAdus. Some of the officers, particularly Subi Danvar, thought that the galactic instabilities that had occurred on both Canopa and Siriki were preventing the HibAdus from mounting full-scale attacks there. There had been extensive geological damage to the Valley of the Princes on Canopa and to remote sections of Siriki.

There were so many immense concerns going on simultaneously that Hari felt the limitations of anything he could do to improve conditions. According to all estimates, the HibAdus had much larger military forces than the Liberators and their Human, Mutati, and Tulyan elements. In addition, the Tulyans—who were heading up the other “war” against galactic disintegration—were not able to keep up with the deterioration that was continuing.

The Emir heaved a deep sigh, trying to calm himself, and returned to the door to Parais’ room. The voices and equipment noises seemed unchanged, a sense that the doctors and their aides were taking efficient, urgent actions.

This section of the Golden Palace was the most heavily fortified, and constituted the keep that had been designed and built to protect its royal inhabitants against outside attack. As far as Hari was concerned, it housed the most important person of all now, Parais d’Olor. But the vicious assault on her had already been made, and he had not been there to protect her.