Timeweb Trilogy Omnibus (50 page)

“I’m with you, Master Noah,” Subi said, without any hesitation.

“So am I,” Anton said, from a chair at the computer terminal.

“We are, too,” Dux said. Beside him, Acey nodded.

Looking at Eshaz and seeing him nod his large, scaly head, Noah didn’t need to hear him speak to know he would risk his own life with theirs. The two of them had an affinity that transcended galactic races and star systems, and even time itself. Noah felt like they had been friends forever, though he knew that could not possibly be the case. The Guardian leader sensed extreme dangers ahead of him—it could be a suicide mission—but he had to face these particular enemies himself and not flee or send in surrogates to do his bidding.

“I’m not getting off this ride yet,” Tesh said. She made an adjustment to the tunnel map that Anton was drawing on the computer.

Staring at Dr. Bichette, whose silence had been palpable, Noah said, “We have no real need for your services any more, so I wish I could allow you to return to your home on Canopa. Unfortunately, I can’t do that, though, because you’re a security risk. Even if you tried to keep your mouth shut, the Doge would take you in for questioning in his notorious Gaol of Brimrock.”

The doctor shot a lingering look at his old girlfriend, then scowled and asked, “How old are you, anyway? You’ve never told me.”

“And I never will,” she answered, with a sly smile.

Noah thought about her broken relationships with Dr. Hurk Bichette and the shaky subsequent relationship with Anton Glavine. He didn’t want to be the next victim on her trail of broken hearts, but couldn’t help the feelings of attraction that he felt for her.

Standing in front of Noah with her hands on her hips, Tesh said, “The only reason I’m sticking around is because you have some explaining to do.”

“I see it the other way around,” he snapped.

She bit her lip and muttered to herself. A mixture of emotions played across her face: shock, anger, and confusion.

As Noah saw the situation, the two of them were growing farther and farther apart. In one respect, he thought this was a shame, since he was attracted to her, though he would never admit his feelings to anyone, or act on them. Honoring Anton’s obvious love for her, Noah wanted to keep his distance from any entanglement. In the past she had been flirtatious toward him, but he couldn’t imagine having any relationship with her.

“So, you’re with me, Tesh?” Noah asked.

“I just said I was.” Angrily, she looked away.

With an exasperated sigh, Noah gave instructions for Anton and the boys to bring the dead captain on board the grid-plane, so that they could make proper arrangements for his body.

* * * * *

Half an hour later, Subi guided the grid-plane out of the cargo hold and into a docking berth of the pod station, where they connected and awaited their turn to depart. There were other grid-planes in the berths of this busy facility, and larger merchant vessels. Four large podships loomed in the central docking bay, including their own craft.

“Uh oh,” Subi said. He pointed through the front window, and Noah saw around a dozen Red Beret officers on a nearby platform, looking at Noah’s grid-plane and talking among themselves.

“Our ship is still painted Guardian colors,” Anton said.

The Red Beret commander did not take long to make his decision. He and his men hurried to board their own ship, several berths away.

Subi activated his weapons system, causing panels to slide open on the side of the grid-plane, revealing high caliber puissant guns. The barrels glowed blue. At a nod from Noah, Subi backed out into the airless vacuum of the docking bay. Just as the Red Beret vessel attempted to do the same, Subi opened fire on it, riddling the hull with holes.

A weapons panel opened on the Red Beret craft, but too late. Subi’s shots struck their mark, and the vessel exploded in a ball of blue and orange. Debris and the bodies of the Doge’s soldiers floated in the docking bay.

One of the nearby merchant vessels was hit by the explosion, and within seconds small robots scurried onto the hull, making repairs. The damage appeared to be superficial, and not near the engines. Then an odd assortment of sentient machines streamed out of that craft and others moored by it, scurrying through airlocks onto the walkway. The machines were dented, scuffed, and dull. They looked like refugees from a scrap pile, but were moving efficiently, and took positions on the walkway.

Just then, more Red Beret soldiers appeared on the walkway, running toward empty airlocks, including the one where Noah’s grid-plane had been berthed. The men wore breather shields over their faces, which would permit them to open the airlocks and fire through them.

But the sentient machines lifted their robotic arms in synchronization, and their hands became an assortment of glistening weapons: guns, mini-crossbows, and dart shooters. They opened fire on the Red-Berets, cutting them down on the walkway and in the airlocks.

“We have unexpected allies,” Noah said. He and Subi scanned the ships and walkways, looking for more opponents. None appeared. The machines mopped up the rest of the soldiers, killing them to the last, while only losing a couple from their own ranks.

“Who are those guys?” Anton said.

“I don’t know,” Noah responded. The engines of several machine vessels were firing, glowing orange in their exhaust tubes.

Then he recalled the fantastic mental excursion he had taken, when he saw podships crossing the galaxy, and one of them was filled with robot ships journeying from the Inn of the White Sun to Canopa. These must be the same sentient machines, a small army of them. And they had come to his aid. But he kept the information to himself for the moment.

Now most of the armed robots reboarded their ships, but some stayed on the body-strewn walkway. One of the machines became apparent now, the flat-bodied robot that Noah remembered seeing in his earlier vision. The others gathered around him and waved their mechanical hands—no longer showing weapons—in the direction of Noah’s grid-plane.

“Pull back into the dock,” Noah ordered. “Let’s see why they helped us.”

Chapter Seventy-Five

One of the great delights of life is the discovery of new friends.

—Noah Watanabe

The leader of the robot force was one of the most peculiar sentient machines that Noah had ever encountered. His flat-bodied appearance was somewhat seedy—dull gray with a small dent on the front of his face plate, and numerous scuff marks. Most robots that looked that bad were no longer operating. His companions didn’t look any better.

The robot featured a hinge arrangement at the center of its body, by which Noah had earlier seen him fold open and closed. “I am called Thinker,” this one announced. “We saw you blow up the Red Beret vessel, and noticed the green-and-brown colors of your grid-plane. Obviously, you are Guardians.”

Noah did not reply, nor did those who stood with him, his companions on the trip here.

“And you are Master Noah Watanabe,” Thinker said.

Stepping up beside Noah, Subi feigned a laugh and said, “He just resembles Watanabe.”

“We might point you in the right direction, though,” Noah added, “but first tell us why you want to see him.”

“I must contemplate this,” the leader of the robots said. Abruptly, he folded shut again, tucking himself away like a metal version of a turtle.

Scowling, Subi rested his hand on a holstered pistol that he had put on, just before going to talk with the machines.

Moving close, Tesh walked around the flat-bodied machine, which was now motionless. The other machines stood nearby rigidly, but in non-threatening postures. “What’s he doing?” she asked.

They didn’t answer.

Moments later, the machine leader folded open. His metal-lidded eyes blinked yellow and then green. He faced Noah, and said, “I have considered the facts, and I was not mistaken. You are Noah Watanabe.”

Noah did not respond, nor did his companions.

“Your identity is obvious to me,” the machine said. “Even without the vast amount of data available to me, you are a well-known fugitive.”

“Why did you help us?” Noah asked, ignoring the assertion.

“Consider it our employment application,” Thinker said. “We wish to join the Guardians, and thought this battle would look good on our résumés.”

“We want to be Guardians!” the machines shouted in unison.

A chill of delight ran down Noah’s spine, but still he hesitated. Calmly, he walked from machine to machine, examining them closely, looking into their metal eyes and checking their blinking, multicolored sensors. Halting at one of the heavily armored sentient machines, he did a double take.

“This is not a machine,” he announced. Through the visor of the face plate, he saw the unmistakable glint of Human eyes, and the skin of a Caucasian.

Moving to Noah’s side, Thinker said, “Quite right, my new friend. This is the brother of your famous inventor Jacopo Nehr.”

“Giovanni Nehr?” Noah said. Surprised, he looked more closely.

The armored man nodded.

While Noah had never met the younger Nehr, he had seen him in public, and knew his reputation as a proud man who never got along well with his famous brother. Because of the strained relationship Noah had with his own father, a renowned man like Jacopo Nehr, he thought he might have something in common with this strange soldier.

Suddenly, the armored man appeared to get very nervous, and looked in the direction of Acey and Dux, who were whispering between themselves and pointing angrily at Nehr.

Then, before anyone could stop them, the boys rushed at Nehr. They knocked him down and began pummeling him through openings in his armor. Robots pulled them apart.

“It seems that we have a minor problem,” Thinker said.

Giovanni Nehr, despite his superior size and armor, appeared terrified of the boys. Blood trickled from his nose.

“What’s the problem here?” Noah asked. He glared at the teenagers.

“Nothing we can’t work out ourselves,” Acey said.

Dux didn’t add anything to that.

“What do you have to say?” Noah said, looking at the man. All three of the combatants had been released by the robots now, and looked very angry.

“Same,” Nehr said. “Just a little misunderstanding, that’s all. We’ll work it out. I promise you, sir, this won’t happen again.”

“They don’t seem to like you,” Noah said. “I want to know why.”

“Uh,” Nehr said, “we were in an airvator together, escaping from a Mutati prison moon, and the guards shot us up pretty good. I was just trying to keep my balance and almost pushed Dux out through a hole, entirely by accident. I didn’t mean to stumble against him. Fortunately he held on, but he was understandably angry.”

Dux muttered something.

Turning to Dux, Noah asked, “Could you have been mistaken? Is he telling the truth?”

“Sir,” the young man said, “Speaking for myself, I’m prepared to let the matter drop. I promise you that. Whatever I thought about him before is nowhere near as important as the mission you want us to accomplish. We’ll set our differences aside.”

“Right,” Acey said, nodding. But his expression, and Dux’s, looked less than convincing.

“One of the disadvantages of your race,” Thinker said, stepping closer to Noah. “Personalities inevitably get in the way.” The lights on his face plate glowed a cheery orange. “Now my machines, on the other hand, have no such problems. I tell them what to do, and they do it.”

“Your point is well taken,” Noah said.

“We have come all the way from the Inn of the White Sun to join your force of environmental activists,” Thinker said. “We even have our own flying ships,” he boasted, “faster than your grid-plane.” He pointed at the battered vessels berthed in the docking bay, “We have many ships at this pod station, filled with more than thirty-five hundred fighting machines. The Red Berets only discovered us today, and began asking questions. We cannot remain here now.”

Noah could not believe his own ears. Pensively, he rubbed his chin. “So you think I’m Noah Watanabe, eh?” he said, resting a hand on Thinker’s shoulder.

“I know you are … sir. In my data banks, I have images of you, and voice prints, to mention only a couple of the identity markers.”

“Welcome to the Guardians,” Noah said, with a broad smile. He clasped the metal hand of the robot and shook it briskly. “I hereby formally commission all of you.”

“And we formally accept.” The machine leader raised both hands over his head, and the pod station filled with the roar of thousands of machines.

“Well, here’s something that’s not in your data banks,” Noah said, with an intense stare. He took Thinker aside, and told him where he would like to land on Canopa, and that he needed to scout the area first by making a low fly-over with the grid-plane, while the other ships waited a safe distance away.

“We’re going around to the dark side of the planet,” Noah said. “We’ll be looking through infrared, with the ship blacked out and our scanning system activated. Do you have those capabilities?”

“Are you kidding? We’ve got the latest gadgets, and even the latest gadgets for our gadgets. Well, maybe I shouldn’t boast too much. Everything’s a few years old, but we do have night vision capability and the ability to evade surveillance grids. When you activate your systems, we’ll do the same.”

“Good.” Noah provided coordinates to the leader of the sentient robots, and the two of them agreed upon arrangements for the scouting and subsequent reconnoitering.

Moments later, the motley-looking force of spaceships taxied toward the exit tunnels.

Chapter Seventy-Six

Noah Watanabe was unable to conceal the locations of many of his ecological recovery projects and other enterprises. We found documents and computer files concerning his galactic operations, and employees who responded to our questions, though only under torture. Still, we suspect there are more operations, as yet unrevealed. He’s out there somewhere, with the ragtag remnants of his company, but we don’t know where. He’s like a ghost in the galaxy.

—File NW27, Report to the Doge Lorenzo del Velli