Timeweb Trilogy Omnibus (92 page)

For today’s attempt, a system of deep-space relay telescopes had been pointed toward distant Canopa, where a massive explosion was expected. By the law of averages something had to eventually hit its intended target, if only by accident. Or so his scientists claimed. But the Zultan wasn’t so sure about that. The galaxy was a very large place.

He completed the prayer and blessing, then lifted his arms and gave the command everyone had been awaiting.

Silently, the laboratory-bred podship took off and disappeared into space, with its deadly Demolio torpedo inside.

At an improvised nehrcom station on Dij, the Zultan’s son, Hari’Adab, and Parais d’Olor listened to a report on the latest launch. The Mutatis had not yet perfected their cross-space transmission system, and static interfered with the sound quality, along with something that caused the signals to surge and fade.

The pair stood silently with their hands clasped in front of them, the position of Mutati prayer.

Minutes passed with excruciating slowness. Hari heard chatter over the line as a commentator provided calculations on how long it should take for the lab-pod to arrive at Canopa and blow it to oblivion. Lab-pods didn’t need to go anywhere near the pod stations where the Merchant Prince Alliance had set up sensor-guns. Theoretically a cloned podship could emerge on the opposite side of Canopa and then blow the planet into space dust.

Finally enough time elapsed, and there was no report of an explosion. Hari and Parais heaved sighs of relief. Their prayers had been answered.

Chapter Fifty-Five

All things come to an end. There are no exceptions.

—Tulyan Saying

It was like having front-row seats for the most spectacular show in the cosmos. As if they were living creatures, small comets and meteors swooped so close to Eshaz’s home that he imagined jumping aboard one of them and flying it straight to heaven. He never tired of the spectacular galactic displays, not even after seeing them for hundreds of thousands of years.

His three guests sat with him in large rocking chairs on the porch, oohing and aahing like spectators at a fireworks display. Even the Parvii woman seemed impressed, and she had undoubtedly seen a great deal in her travels around the galaxy. Hours ago, they had all received great news, a report that Noah Watanabe had been rescued from a CorpOne medical laboratory. Already Eshaz had obtained permission from the Council to send a congratulatory message to him at the next regularly scheduled transmission time over Timeweb—a message that would be received on the other end by Zigzia, a Tulyan working for Noah’s Guardians. This evening’s galactic show was the frosting on an excellent day.

Truly, I have been blessed to live here,
Eshaz thought, savoring the beauty of the night. But he worried over how much longer such natural delights would last, galactic wonders that were probably unrivaled in the entire universe. So far the sacred starcloud had not shown any signs of the deterioration affecting other star systems as the Timeweb infrastructure unraveled, that living organism linking all galactic life forms.

“There are so many excellent stories I could tell you,” Eshaz said in the low light, “for I am very old by your standards, and rich with experience.” He rocked in his creaking chair. “Eons ago, my people were masters of the entire galaxy, and could journey to the farthest stars in the blink of an eye. We controlled podships then, before Parviis swarmed in and pirated them away.”

He glanced at the shadowy, magnified profile of Tesh, who had chosen to remain too small for the Tulyan rocker, and added, “Our enemies were always an irritant, and eventually became much more than that. It was the beginning of the end, and prevented us from performing our large-scale caretaking work. For too long we have tried to patch things together, but it has not been nearly enough.”

She looked over at him, with the saddest expression on her face. The remorse of one Parvii meant little to Eshaz. It was not nearly enough, but he still enjoyed her companionship, and had done important work with her. They had captured podships together, an unprecedented collaboration in the history of the galaxy.

The big Tulyan stopped rocking and said, “Even with their domination, Parviis don’t have all of our powers. I am a timeseer, one of the Tulyans who is sometimes able to peer short distances into the future.”

“In order to obtain travel privileges for his people,” Tesh interjected, “Eshaz’s services … and the services of other Tulyans like him … are made available to the Parviis. Woldn, and all the Eyes of the Swarm who preceded him, have always worried about the future.”

“Your people have a guilty conscience,” Eshaz said.

“Perhaps that is true, though I suppose all of us feel the guilt of our ancestors.”

In a faltering voice, Eshaz said, “I was ordered to timesee for Woldn, but something blocked me … chaos in the galaxy, I think. But I sense something important anyway, that Noah Watanabe holds the keys to the future.”

“In what way?” Dux asked.

“I wish I knew. He might not even understand how to use them himself.” The ancient reptilian shuddered as a cold breeze emerged from the mists, and the sky went dark.

Chapter Fifty-Six

Eternal life does not equate to eternal happiness. In point of fact, the opposite is far more likely.

—Noah Watanabe

Francella stood on the largest loggia of her palatial cliffside home. Gripping the railing, she looked dejectedly out on the moonlit Valley of the Princes, focusing on her own destroyed buildings down there … the headquarters and the main lab that had been sabotaged by the pesky Guardians. Then her gaze drifted down to the cliff face beneath the railing, and the welcome relief that could be only a few moments away for her.

For Francella Watanabe, her entire life had been a waking nightmare in which she had striven to be noticed, but in which her rightful position in the family and in society had been denied. As far as she was concerned, most of the blame for that went to her twin brother, but it also irritated her that their father had permitted it all to happen in the first place. A self-made industrialist, Saito had been opposed to the indolence and inherited wealth of noble-born princes. He professed to honor hard work and ingenuity, so logically he should have honored and rewarded her efforts. But it had never been that way. She’d been forced to work twice as hard as Noah to gain any measure of respect with their father, and ultimately she received only the grudging, secondary attention given to a mere daughter.

That lack of respect for her as a person and as a woman carried over even now, despite the fact that she owned and controlled the immense assets of CorpOne. She saw it on the faces of officers of the company and in members of the Doge’s Royal Court, in their subtle looks and tones of voice. On the surface they appeared to give her deference and jumped to comply with her wishes, but she always sensed an undercurrent. She was not the great Prince Saito Watanabe. Nor was she Noah Watanabe, who—despite having been declared a criminal—was still widely admired among the people.

She felt the moisture of her own teardrops on her hands as she continued to grip the railing. It would not be difficult for her to climb over and tumble into oblivion.

To Francella, the atmosphere of hard work in which she had grown up was a fraud and a farce, a purported ethical base that never really existed. Any semblance of ethics she’d seen had been tainted with exclusionary clauses that left her out of the inner circles of merchant prince society. As a woman and a Human being, she resented that.

Feeling betrayed by her family, it was easy for her to abandon them. She had arranged for the death of her father, and had neatly blamed it on her brother. Likewise, she had been spreading rumors against Doge Lorenzo, and had allied herself with his political enemies, the noble-born princes. It had been easy for her to turn against people who did not respect her. Now she would champion the cause of the noble-born aristocrats, and in the process would advance the position of her own son Anton, and of herself. After all, he was of noble blood from the loins of Doge Lorenzo, and she could not be expected to ignore that.

Through it all she had become a political chameleon, doing whatever it took to survive in a male-dominated society filled with intrigues and double dealings. She thought her own schemes had been well laid out, and they did give her some measure of influence over difficult situations.

But something eluded her. From birth, she had been allotted the normal Human lifetime. That was limited enough, yet now, through a terrible misfortune and injustice, even that was being taken away from her. Each time she looked in the mirror or saw others react with aversion to her appearance, she felt the erosion. The end was drawing near.…

Unable to sleep that night, she had been pacing the corridors of her villa in a robe, desperate to come up with a solution. Earlier in the evening she had taken a couple of spinneros, pills that were manufactured by her company as antidepressants. They were not working on her, perhaps because they were lousy drugs, or because she was too far down to bring herself back.

She envisioned herself summoning the necessary courage and jumping off the cliff. But would that really be courage? Wouldn’t it be more brave to fight harder than ever for life?

Her despair shifted quickly to anger, and she turned away from the railing. She had never been a quitter or a loser. Her enemies would have to drag her kicking and screaming from this life, from everything she deserved. As long as she still had breath, she would fight.

Dressing hurriedly, she summoned her chauffeur and ordered him to notify Dr. Bichette that she intended to call on him within the hour. She wanted a firsthand status report on her condition, and what he was doing to combat it. No matter that it was the middle of the night. If she could not sleep, neither should Bichette.

At the last minute, Francella slipped a puissant handgun into the pocket of her jacket. If she didn’t like what he had to say, she would administer her own form of discipline, and—assuming she let him live—she would put a black mark in his personnel file. Actually, a bloody mark sounded better to her. It was her right as his employer, after all.

At the front entrance, the chauffeur handed her an envelope. “The doctor sent this over right after I contacted him.”

After slipping into the back seat of the limousine, she opened the envelope, while the vehicle hummed along the maglev track. Reading the note, she said to the driver, “Take me to Lab Two instead of his home. He’s waiting there.”

Her pulse raced. The message read, “I have good news.” What did he mean?

Arriving at the laboratory, she found that the doctor, fully aware of his precarious position, had been working around the clock. He looked pale and gaunt, and had not shaven in some time. A vein throbbed at his temple, as it did whenever he became agitated. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said in his deep voice, grasping her hand and shaking it. “Your timing is elegant.”

Dr. Bichette reported interesting developments in the research. From duplicate medical records that were kept in a separate location and not destroyed in the lab fire, he and his staff had compared Noah’s previous DNA structure with what it was now, and had spotted significant differences, particularly involving how genes transferred during cellular division. In a normal person, a small number of cells had age-related chromosomal defects that were held in check when the person was young, but expanded their domain as the person grew older.

“But in the case of Noah Watanabe,” the excited doctor said, “these defective cells no longer exist. His basic DNA structure has been completely revamped, making him better than new.”

Francella found these comments fascinating, but she was impatient to hear more. “What does this mean for me?” she demanded.

Looking increasingly nervous, the doctor continued. “When you injected yourself with Noah’s blood, it gave me an idea. I began to wonder if his DNA might be used as a blueprint to make a new product, an elixir of eternal life.”

“The Fountain of Youth,” Francella said.

“It seems entirely possible. Computer projections indicate that an injection of elixir could make some people live for a very long time.”

He started to go into more detail when she interrupted. “Begin production at once.”

His eyes widened. “But more studies are required first, tests on animals and willing Human subjects.”

“I do not have the luxury of time. You are to immediately suspend all other medical operations and focus our resources on the elixir.”

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Certain robots have no sense of honor programmed into them, or they have overridden it, and will destroy anything that stands in their way.

—Thinker, entry in his data banks

Upon learning of Noah’s escape from the CorpOne facility, Jacopo Nehr summoned his top officers to the orbital space station. In his office there, the Supreme General of the Merchant Prince Armed Forces said, “I understand robots broke the prisoner out of the medical lab. Is that true?”

Colonel Umar Javit, commander of the Red Berets, stepped forward. A big man with broad shoulders, he said, “It is, sir.”

“But how could robots sneak in and do that? Aren’t they clanky and noisy?”

“There are ways to muffle sound, a fact I learned by asking robots under my own command the same questions.”

“I’ve heard about your robots,” Nehr said, thoughtfully. “They’re doing a good job for you, aren’t they?”

“Better than most men, sir. They’ve been self-replicating, too, building more of their kind quickly. I had twenty machine volunteers in the beginning, and now they number in the tens of thousands.”

“Impressive. Put them to work on this Noah situation. Add them to the Human Red Berets that are already looking for him. Find Noah and his hideout and destroy them.”

“Shall I take prisoners, sir?”

“Only enough to obtain intelligence information.” He grimaced. “Doge Lorenzo and Francella are anxious for results.”

“We are to kill the rest of the Guardians, then? I mean, the Humans?”