Timeweb Trilogy Omnibus (75 page)

Francella glared down at the doctor, who had also been a source of irritation. Bichette had displayed a maddening degree of independence to her, but she couldn’t get rid of him. Like her father before her, Prince Saito, she relied on Bichette’s expertise, and to his credit, the man did not seem to like Noah much himself. In a heated discussion the day before, Bichette had assured Francella that their goals were “not dissimilar,” and that he would take care of the situation in his own way, but to their mutual satisfaction.

The pledge had been somewhat less than she would have preferred, but Francella wanted to maintain her own composure in this situation, and was trying to pull herself back emotionally from the experiments being performed on her brother. That was much easier said than done, she realized.

Besides, she had other important matters on her mind. Shortly before coming in today, she had conducted a virtual-reality nehrcom session with noble-born princes on other planets. Blocked from meeting them in person by the podship crisis, this was their only viable means of getting together. At her insistence security had been tight, and because of the high status of the participants, all of them had been able to obtain private rooms at the various nehrcom transmitting stations.

The video quality of the meeting had been fuzzy, nowhere near as good as the clarity of the audio. Jacopo Nehr, inventor of the cross-space transmission system, had never been happy with the video feature, even on direct hookups such as this that did not go through relay stations. Apparently he considered it something of a professional embarrassment, so often he acted as if the feature didn’t exist at all. All Francella could do was to make the best use of the technology, such as it was. She liked to watch the body language of people with whom she was conversing, as that often told her more than their words. It told her something about their sincerity and loyalty, of paramount importance to her because of the nature of their meetings.

For years Doge Lorenzo del Velli had favored men who excelled in business, and he had been appointing them to important governmental positions … at the expense of the noble-born princes. Her late father and Jacopo Nehr were among the most conspicuous examples of commoners honored at the expense of nobles, as both had been appointed “Princes of the Realm.” But there were many others at various levels of government, undermining the entire infrastructure of the Merchant Prince Alliance. In a sense it was ironic that she—not of noble birth herself—should find herself aligned with those who were, but it was how she felt about the matter nonetheless. The old traditions were important, and should not be discarded easily. Men like her own brother, if permitted to excel and advance, were part of the problem.

At the VR nehrcom session the noble-born princes had clamored for her attention, asking her to be more active in their cause. She assured them that she was doing everything she could, but for security reasons she could not reveal all of the details. That was true to an extent, because she was helping their cause by destroying her own brother. But she had to admit to herself that she had something else in mind that was far more important than anything she would ever reveal to them.

Through her own sources, she had learned that some of the princes felt uneasy working with a woman (and a commoner by birth), but because of her political power and influence, she was their best hope to overthrow Lorenzo and replace him with their own man. The new leader had to be a man; she had no delusions about that, or ulterior motives of her own. She wouldn’t want the job anyway, since it would only invite competitors to plot against her, especially in view of her gender. Francella felt more comfortable as a power behind the scenes. She could be a puppeteer, and make the next doge dance on the end of her strings.

She had concluded the VR meeting as quickly as possible while assuring her allies of her devotion to them, and her ongoing, behind-the-scenes efforts to undermine Doge Lorenzo’s authority and eventually overthrow him. It was all a political cesspool as far as she was concerned, but she didn’t particularly want to take more severe action, such as assassination. After all, she and Lorenzo had been bedmates for years now, and she didn’t want to completely do away with him. She just wanted him out of office.

Now, in the laboratory, she focused on her most pressing interest. The square-jawed Dr. Bichette, in a white medical smock, was flanked by a pair of female technicians, similarly attired. The trio wore belts containing a variety of medical instruments and even stunners, should the patient become unruly and somehow break free of the electronic restraints that were holding him down.

At the moment, they seemed to be sedating Noah.

Her brother’s purported immortality condition had not yet been verified, and there were certain things she needed to know. At the thought, she felt a slight trembling. In her discussion with Bichette she had emphasized their importance. He’d said he understood, and would perform the research properly, to fully exploit the information they obtained.

In previous laboratory sessions, Bichette had taken blood and tissue samples from Noah, and had performed a variety of experiments on him. Today, the doctor looked back at Francella and said, “I’m glad you are here. You will want to see this. The patient’s ability to regenerate body parts seems to be linked with his reported ‘immortality’ condition, and if so, it is important to understand how it all works.” Without further comment, he turned to his work, watching as the technicians took vital signs, including checking the dilation of the pupils. Unconscious, Noah heaved deep breaths, with his chest rising and falling perceptibly. Bichette opened one of Noah’s hands and then swung the arm and hand onto a metal side table.

At a nod from one of the technicians, Dr. Bichette called for a C76 surgical scalpel, holding his hand out as the servo machinery in the room whirred to life, and a mechanical arm reached down to him from the ceiling.

Grabbing the scalpel, he made a quick motion with it, cutting off her brother’s right forefinger. Noah jerked, but did not awaken. His breathing became less regular, and more agitated. Tossing the finger on a tray, the doctor moved to the bottom end of the table. This time he called for a surgical saw, and cut off the big toe on Noah’s left foot, the same foot that had regenerated after being amputated earlier.

Again Noah jerked, and this time his eyes fluttered open before he drifted off once more, probably experiencing a nightmare. Francella felt no sympathy for him, never had. If he ever injured himself when they were children, she always enjoyed it, and now she felt a comfortable, pleasant sensation, a wash of memories from those times.

While Francella watched, fascinated, one of the attendants recorded everything with a holocam. In less than a minute, the finger and toe regrew, forming red appendages that changed in hue moment by moment, returning to the natural, light pigmentation of Noah’s skin.

The technicians wrapped up Noah’s severed finger and toe, and marked them for laboratory analysis. Dr. Bichette tossed the scalpel on a table, and looked thoughtfully at Noah. Francella wondered if his thoughts paralleled her own. Surely, he must have considered the possibilities. As for her, convinced that her brother really had eternal life, she was anxious to obtain it for herself, too.

Francella left her seat, and moved to the doctor’s side. He glanced in her direction.

“I’ve been thinking about injecting his blood into my own bloodstream,” she said.

Overhearing this, one of the laboratory technicians looked alarmed.

“I would not recommend that,” Bichette said. “There are many analyses to complete before anything like that can be considered. Even then we would not want to try it on a Human being first.” He shook his head. “There are many steps to follow.”

Francella did not like the sound of that. She detested delays, had in mind the things she wanted to do. With the gift of eternal life, she could accomplish so much. The problem of her brother would remain, since he would also have the gift, so she would always—literally—have to keep him under control. For all eternity, she would be the master and he the slave.

Unless she found a way to obliterate Noah and all of his bodily tissue. But without cellular material, how would he regenerate? By magic? She experienced a mounting rage, and didn’t know how long she could keep it in under control. Her trembling increased, and a shudder coursed her spine.

Leaning over Noah as he slept fitfully, she whispered in his ear: “I’ve always hated you. You were Daddy’s favorite, his chosen successor, and the two of you acted like I didn’t exist at all. I got nothing but the leavings, whatever you didn’t want.”

She felt an urge to slap him hard, but resisted because of the witnesses. Grimacing, she husked, “The tables have turned now, and I’m in control.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Any prison, no matter how ironclad it might appear to be, has multiple weak points. Security is only an illusion, and often only works because of the illusion.

—Noah Watanabe,
Ruminations

Shortly after midnight, three men, a woman, and six robots, all in black, slid down a muddy embankment and slipped into the water. The river, murky and slow-moving, chilled Gio at first despite his body suit, but he warmed as he swam across underwater, using his tankless breathing mechanism and making hardly any noise. The others followed him almost soundlessly. He felt a rush of exhilaration. With luck his commando team would rescue Noah Watanabe, and maybe even Anton Glavine. But Glavine was of secondary importance. The commandos’ priority was clear, and everything had to go smoothly.

Gio wished he had a floor plan of the prison, but such information was highly classified. He had tried obtaining the layout, but at Thinker’s suggestion he had made a blanket inquiry, concealing their intent by making it for all government-operated buildings on Canopa. No inquiries had resulted in anything useful, not even when bribes were offered.

The Humans under Gio’s command wore night-vision goggles, but the six robots didn’t require such gear, since their visual sensors adjusted automatically, absorbing the narrowest rays of light.

In actuality the commando squad had an additional member, since one of the ten squad members—Kindsah—carried Lumey in a backpack. Reaching the base of the rock prison wall, the young female Guardian removed the alien from her pack, and massaged Lumey gently. Looking at the amorphous creature in the red darkness, Gio imagined that Lumey might be feeling his own excitement and anticipation, since Noah had rescued him from an industrial slag heap.

For a moment, Gio almost had a change of heart. It was a strange sensation, as if he was about to take an unfamiliar path. Since first encountering Noah, he’d held some affection and respect for him, but with Gio such feelings had distinct limitations, not coming anywhere near the abiding, narcissistic love he felt for himself. For as long as he could remember, Gio had been a survivor, wary of outsiders, not trusting anyone, not even his family. His attitude sharpened even more after his brother became famous and got so much adulation.

In the red darkness, three of the swimming robots held the mobile airlock, with the flat side toward Kindsah. She petted the alien in her hands, and Gio saw it stretch as thin as a rope and attach itself to the perimeter of the airlock’s flat side, forming a living gasket. Through some inexplicable means, the creature seemed to understand its role.

With Gio in the lead, the commando team submerged, and secured the airlock around the underwater doorway of the prison, with Lumey playing his part perfectly, and even leaving an opening in the center that matched the size of the door itself. Opening a hatch on the airlock, Gio swam inside first, followed by two of his team members, one of whom was a robot with security disabling capability.

They waited while pumps drained the chamber of water. Then they worked on the heavy metal prison door, using a fast-acting acid that ate the metal away. In a matter of moments the old door broke away, opening into darkness.

“Searching for alarm components,” the robot reported. It discharged a flying unit that went ahead, through the hole. Designed by Thinker, it would neutralize any motion detectors, noise sensors, or other alarm features while making prison authorities think the system was still in operation.

In the red light of his goggles Gio made out a large, empty chamber beyond. A minute later the flying probe returned to its host robot, blinking a green light.

“Our remote camera isn’t working,” the robot reported. “I can’t get any images of what’s ahead. The probe found an alarm and decommissioned it, though.”

“Let’s go!” Gio said, after considering for only a moment. He led the way through. As they reached the rock interior floor of the prison, a clearplax door on the airlock closed behind them. He saw a door open on the other side of the airlock, letting water into the chamber, along with three more members of the commando team who swam inside, including Kindsah. The process repeated, and in a few moments the entire squad stood inside the prison.

With Gio in the lead, they ran from corridor to corridor and cell to cell, always keeping close to a wall, slinking around corners, moving stealthily through dim illumination. This entire level was unoccupied, though a room containing racks, garrotes, electrocution machines, injection tables, and a variety of other diabolical devices showed signs of recent activity, with scraps of food and leftover cups scattered about on the floor and tables.

Behind Gio, the robots moved with impressive silence. He didn’t know how they accomplished it. Leading them up to the next level, he waited to confirm that the entire alarm system had been disabled, then hurried along the corridor. As he rounded a corner he saw a guard just ahead, and froze in his tracks. One of the robots fired a stun pellet, dropping the guard with a soft thud.

Most of the cells were unoccupied, but not all of them. As the commandos ran by, some of the prisoners asked what they were doing. Others called out for help, but Gio ignored all of them. He couldn’t rescue everyone, couldn’t afford to direct any energy in the wrong direction, slowing the thrust of his force.