Webdancers (20 page)

Now she felt Noah with her again, his physical closeness and warmth, as if they were making love once more. The rapture she shared with him was even more intense than it had been previously, wave upon wave of pleasure building to a grand climax in her mind and body. Finally, as after a great storm, the fury of passion subsided and she lay there in the green luminescence, completely sated.

Having done this, Tesh no longer felt alone, and that gave her some comfort. But she sensed grave perils ahead. To face them, she would need to reach deep for all the strength she could muster, and for all the strength she could draw from others. She knew absolutely that she had to attempt this difficult path, no matter where it took her … and her child.

And no matter how anyone felt about it. Even Noah.

Chapter Forty-Two

Time is a measuring stick, but it goes in a circle.

—Tulyan observation

As Eshaz continued to lead his ecological repair team around the galaxy, he thought he must be one of the busiest Tulyans alive. He not only had to coordinate the work assignments of his caretakers, but he liked to get involved personally, and perform some of the important web repair tasks himself. Some of his team members wondered how he could possibly do so much, and to that inquiry, Eshaz invariably had a simple reply: “I don’t sleep anymore.”

It was an exaggeration, but not much of one. He slept only a couple of hours a day now, and somehow he kept going anyway. Humans would have said their adrenaline was causing it, or caffeine, or one of the designer drugs that kept them awake. In Eshaz’s case, it was sheer desperation. He knew he would never again face such an important challenge. The responsibility of managing five hundred podships and the Tulyans aboard them weighed heavily on him. He felt up to the challenge, but knew when it was completed, if he ever got back to his beloved Tulyan Starcloud, he wanted to sleep for a month straight.

At the moment, he was performing yet another duty, having merged into the flesh of the lead podship, Agryt, in order to pilot it and lead the repair fleet across the galaxy. They were just leaving the Tarbu Gap, a sacred and secret Tulyan region whose location was concealed from the prying eyes and telepathic probes of outsiders by electrical disturbances.

Ahead, if he kept on this route, lay the legendary Wild Pod Zone. He wished he could go there as he had in the past, but knew that was impossible. It was now in the Hibbil Sector.

Through visual sensors on the hull of the pod, combined with his own enhanced eyes, Eshaz saw far out into space, to the dim dwarf stars of that region, white or brown in color. But even if he was able to go there, he suspected it would not be the same as the past. In all likelihood there were dangerous galactic conditions there, things that needed the attention of his expert team. To him, the threat of military action by the HibAdus didn’t seem any worse than some of the other dangers around the galaxy. It seemed like a matter of priorities, that he should just barrel ahead and try to complete as many repairs in that sector as he could. But the Council of Elders had forbidden him from going there. They were keeping part of the Liberator fleet to perform military operations to enforce the web repairs that were needed, and perhaps at this very moment other Tulyans were conducting operations in that region. If he went against orders, he could compromise their efforts.

My superiors know better than I
, he thought.

Grudgingly, Eshaz changed course sharply, and headed for yet another star system, in a different sector. The other podships followed. One by one, he was completing the tasks on his list. In only a few minutes, he would be in the next work zone, unless he had to take an alternate route due to web conditions.

In his lifetime of nearly a million years, Eshaz had seen many things, and had done many things. He had been a renowned and talented timeseer, among a small number in all of the Tulyan Starcloud who could see portions of the future. It had always been an imperfect talent, affected and limited by cosmic conditions and by other factors that were largely unknown to him. In one of his most distasteful assignments, the Council had ordered him to perform timeseeing duties for Woldn and the Parviis—an unusual cooperative arrangement between the races that existed before the latest hostilities. The attempt had not gone well, and as a result Woldn had not been pleased. But Eshaz had been painfully honest with him; he really had not been able to provide the information sought by the Parvii leader.

Sometimes—both under assignment and on his own—Eshaz had tried to visualize other specific futures. Prime among them, he had endeavored to discern the path lying ahead of the most remarkable of all Humans, Noah Watanabe … the galactic ecologist, Timeweb traveler, and immortal. Against all odds, this Human might outlive the most ancient of Tulyans. Remarkable, indeed. And, though Noah denied it, he might be the messiah foretold in Tulyan legends.

But each time that Eshaz had made the effort to focus his timeseeing abilities on Noah, he had encountered only chaos around the man, a cosmic, veiling murkiness that prevented any intrusion. The more he had tried to probe, the more Eshaz had found himself with a ferocious headache, so he had gradually given up the effort. Some things were truly impossible.

Now as he sped along the webway, Eshaz attempted something that seemed even more broad that focusing on Noah’s life. Mulling it over, however, he realized that it was something that stemmed from Noah, or at least from something Noah had said—and this might add to the difficulties of timeseeing.

With his far-seeing eyes, Eshaz gazed beyond the physical reality of the galaxy around him, into an alternate dimension that was connected to the web of time. Having already commanded his podship to follow a particular course, he could take a few moments to make this new attempt.

For a good distance, the ethereal realm opened up to him and he saw where Timeweb was connected to the substance and mass of the known galaxy, and where many of the Tulyan caretaking repair teams had either completed important work or were continuing with it.

And far, far beyond that, he peered into the place where all things were heading with each passing moment, an inexorable flow of time and destiny from countless directions. Like streams and currents.
There!
he thought, feeling a surge of excitement, but one that was tinged in dread.

Something dark and amorphous lay in the future of all living beings in the galaxy, blocking all paths, preventing any way around it. But what? As he attempted to see farther into the lens of time, his corporeal limitations intruded, and he felt the worst headache of his entire life. And Eshaz knew that if he pressed forward, he would create such pain and such internal cellular damage that he could die.

This risk did not matter to him, not with such so much at stake. As a consequence, he pressed on with his own form of psychic timeseeing, looking with the specially attuned eyes that he had been received as a gift with his birth.
The pain!
Sharp lances surged into his awareness.

But he refused to back off.

Less than a minute passed, though it seemed like much longer to Eshaz, as in the compression of a dream … or a nightmare. Finally, something kicked him out, hard, and he landed back in the reality of the podship speeding through space.

Moments later, Agryt reached the destination that Eshaz had provided, and slowed down. The rest of the Aopoddae behind did the same. All of their pilots and crews awaited Eshaz’s further instructions. He wondered what his own face must look like on the prow of the vessel.

He didn’t feel in any condition to guide the team. His head screamed in pain. Then, as moments passed he felt the discomfort diminishing, and he realized that Agryt was comforting him, using some unfathomable Aopoddae method to bring a foolish Tulyan back to awareness and function.

Presently, Eshaz felt fully restored, and grateful to his symbiotic companion. But he was left with a certainty that troubled him above all others.

Noah had been right. There really
was
a great and towering danger out there—more than any of the galactic races had ever encountered before—and to complicate the situation even more, no one could identify it.

Chapter Forty-Three

In this universe of wondrous possibilities, certain constants exist, and all of them are linked to the symbiosis of science and religion. These two divisions of the Ultimate Truth are—in the basic analysis—one and the same, and their respective subparts contribute to the whole. Are certain acts morally wrong and repugnant to civilization? In pre-Scienscroll times, many purported scientists claimed that there were no immoral acts, and that moral templates were no more than artificial constructs. When at long last humanity saw the light, such views were righteously tossed into the dustbins of history.

—
Scienscroll
, 1 Eth 77–78

With Princess Meghina right behind him, Noah negotiated a spiral, rock stairway that led down to the ancient dungeons of the palace. Bright lights illuminated the way, so that they could walk more safely on the uneven, stained surface—stairs that had been worn down in places by the passage of many feet. It was early morning.

“As you know, it was pretty dark down here before,” he said, “so we added more lighting.”

“My palace has a long history,” she said, “much of it unsavory. I’m afraid there were torture chambers down here centuries ago.”

“We found some evidence of that. No machines, but there were still shackles on the walls.”

Noah pushed open a heavy iron door, revealing a corridor lined with glowing orange, electronic containment cells. His officers had converted this to a military gaol, always necessary to confine fighters and a limited number of others that the forces encountered who needed to be taken into custody. And, though it was not large or crowded with prisoners today, it became, nonetheless, quite noisy as they approached a cell on the far end.

“Finally!” the Salducian diplomat shouted as he jumped up from a cot. His normally impeccable gray suit was wrinkled and soiled, and at the knees of some of his numerous legs the fabric was torn and bloody, with visible wounds. Glaring through the containment field at Noah, he then shifted his gaze to the Princess. At that point his demeanor changed, and in a pleasant tone he said to her, “Thank you for coming to get me out. I have spent a most uncomfortable night.”

“I’m not here for that,” she said.

“What?” Confusion moved across Kobi Akar’s oblong face. His crab-pincer hands flexed back and forth behind the containment field, as if looking for something to grab onto and rip apart. Looking at Noah, he asked, “Are you attempting to assert military jurisdiction over me?”

“No,” Noah said. “Your confinement is presently military, since that offers the best security. However, the jurisdiction is civilian. As soon as possible, you will be transferred to Canopan authorities.”

“In the midst of a war? What outrage is this? I want a lawyer!”

“You will have access to lawyers on Canopa,” Noah said.

“This is outrageous!”

“It is the law,” Noah said. “A serious charge has been placed against you.”

In an indignant tone, the Salducian said, “One of the guards mentioned something about sex with a minor girl. It’s a complete lie!”

“You will have your opportunity to prove that. Reportedly it occurred on the orbital gambling casino, over Canopa.”

“It’s all a monstrous fabrication, designed to extort payment out of me. However, just for the sake of argument, I ask you: How can there be any Canopan civilian jurisdiction over an orbiter that is in space? That falls under intergalactic law, not planetary law.”

“We don’t know the particulars,” Meghina said, “only that the Office of the Doge has ordered you to Canopa.”

“It’s all a waste of time, you know,” Akar said. He scuttled backward, and sagged wearily onto the cot. “Whatever the jurisdiction, I have diplomatic immunity.”

“And the courts will determine if you flaunted it,” Noah said.

“Flaunted? In this matter, that is not a legal term. Obviously, I know the law and you don’t.”

“I’m not here to debate you.”

“I asked Noah to bring me to check on your physical condition,” the Princess said. “Are you being fed well, Mr. Akar? Have you received treatment for your injuries?” She looked down at his bloodied legs that draped over the side of the cot.

“The food is unfit for roachrats,” he replied. “And as for my injuries, that is an additional matter. My lawyers will prefer charges for mistreatment of a prisoner.”

“I viewed the surveillance file on you,” Noah said. “You injured yourself when you fell on the stairs.”

“I was pushed!”

“That isn’t what the evidence shows.”

“I shall send you better food and a doctor,” Meghina said, stiffly. Then, without another word, she turned and left, with Noah behind her.

“What are they going to do?” Akar shouted after them, “Give me a life sentence?” He cackled, delighted at his own dark humor.

“That is not up to us,” Noah said, over his shoulder. “We are only holding you for other authorities.”

“I have a long list of grievances!” Akar shouted after them. “You’ll both hear from my lawyers!”

“On that, at least, I believe you,” Noah yelled back, as he and Meghina went through the heavy iron door.

“What’s that supposed to mean?’

In response, Noah slammed the door shut.

“A charming man, but I never entirely trusted him,” Meghina said. “That doesn’t mean he’s guilty, though.”

Noah couldn’t help but agree, though soon—after completing the transfer to Canopa—the matter would be out of his hands.

* * * * *

Sometimes, Noah dreaded going to sleep. In his military duties, he spent long hours attending to important tasks, so by the end of each day he invariably felt tired enough to drift off. But so many problems kept churning through his mind that he found it difficult to leave them unresolved. So much seemed beyond his ability to fix or even to understand. At times, he wished he knew less than he did, or at least that he had been exposed to less.

The mysteries of Timeweb were at the very top of his list.

It awed him to think of the incredible galactic web that connected everything in a manner that most galactic races could not detect, a structure that had existed for millions and millions of years. During all of that time, it had been strong enough to hold everything together, but now, after so much abuse and neglect, it was falling apart. Reports from the Tulyan caretaker teams indicated some progress in completing repairs, and a number of the most heavily damaged areas had been improved. But there were also ongoing reports of new timeholes needing attention and entire galactic sectors in peril, so the Tulyan Elders needed to constantly adjust their priorities and plans.

As First Elder Kre’n had said, it was like the triage method of assessing the injuries of soldiers on a vast galactic battlefield, except in this case Timeweb was a single entity, with many widespread wounds.

Humankind is a single organism
, Noah thought, as he made his way to his private quarters in the keep.
In fact, all races are a single organism. All races are linked to Timeweb.

He felt his thoughts stretching beyond prior levels of understanding or connection.

Suddenly, in the corridor he dropped to his knees, and a green darkness pervaded his consciousness. In the background, he heard guards asking if he was all right.

Noah was conscious of remaining on his knees, and of people all around him. Some of them touched him, and he heard their distant voices asking if they should help him to lie down. Someone summoned a doctor, and Noah wondered if it would be the same doctor that would attend to the Salducian. An odd, throwaway thought that intruded on others of much more importance.

Priorities
, he thought. Life was about assigning priorities, and acting upon them. He wasn’t sure if he had heard that somewhere, or if he had figured it out himself. Another throwaway thought.

Then, with all of the commotion around him, Noah became an island unto himself, and voices drifted away around him. He recalled the horrible death of his sister, the way she aged too rapidly and died looking like a haggard old woman, and probably in terrible pain. Certainly, she suffered from a horrendous anguish of the soul. Noah thought back to the last time he saw her, when she stabbed him with a dermex needle, claiming it contained her own tainted blood. Even though doctors subsequently assured him that she had not infected him—and Noah seemed to have his own brand of immortality—he still worried about it occasionally.

So much information to discard. So many details that only clogged his mind and made it work inefficiently, details that intruded like guerrilla fighters and then retreated, only to irritate him over and over again. Concerning Francella, he didn’t want to think about her bad side, though that was almost all he’d ever seen of her. Instead, he tried to remember the few comparatively pleasant times they had shared (mostly as children), occasions when they almost seemed like normal siblings.

My life has been anything but normal
, he thought.
And hers, in its own horrific way, was far from normal as well
.

The Human condition seemed to cover a broad range of purported normalcy. But he realized that at its very core each Human relationship contained an inevitable element of dysfunction, and that people—the optimistic types—tried to put a positive cast on problems, making them seem less significant than they actually were.

Noah had always tried to be an optimist himself, even when the obstacles against that state of mind seemed insurmountable. Now, more than ever in his lifetime, and he was quite certain—more than ever in the history of the galaxy—the obstacles were greater than ever.

Like a great flood waiting to break through holes in a dike, Chaos threatened to inundate everything in the known galaxy, ruining eons of cosmic evolution, changing everything for the worse. The Tulyans were like little Dutch boys running around putting their fingers in the holes. But there seemed to be many more timeholes than there were caretakers to fix them.

He felt the dark seepage of pessimism into his awareness, and fought to push it back.

At the moment, he sensed someone carrying him, but that part didn’t matter. He cried out, and felt the flood of an abrupt vision that took over his consciousness. Suddenly, he found himself thinking with Francella’s mind and seeing through her eyes. Startling! But fascinating. He didn’t fight the sensations. It didn’t seem like one of the doors to Timeweb; it seemed like something else.…

It was a gloomy, rainy day on Canopa, and Francella was at CorpOne headquarters with their father, Prince Saito Watanabe.

“You know,” the old man said as they stood by the rain-swept window, “I might have been wrong all my life about industrial pollution and waste, so maybe I should change after all, as Noah has been preaching to me—even if it means dismantling every business operation my company has. Maybe I should turn operation of the company over to your brother and let him clean things up from the inside.”

“He can only destroy CorpOne!” she shouted back, her voice cracking. “Noah has never cared about this company or this family! How can you say such a thing?”

“You will accept whatever I decide,” the old merchant prince said. “If I have been wrong in the past, I must make amends.” He looked at her with rheumy old eyes. “And you must makes amends, too. For a long time, I have noticed how you never reach out to Noah, never seem capable of seeing anything good about him. Why is that? I never wanted the two of you to grow so far apart.”

He extended a hand to touch her shoulder affectionately, but she pushed it away.

They argued for awhile, father and daughter, with far more than the normal associated emotions. Finally Francella went away by herself, to her own island of twisted consciousness. She felt extremely upset at what the old tycoon had said to her. In her office her thoughts went wild, and she smashed things around her.

It was a turning point in her life. Always before, she had imagined doing terrible things, even worse than the financial indiscretions she had long committed against her company and her family. Now, for the first time, she actively plotted to kill her father and blame it on Noah.

As the images faded and Noah found himself in his own apartment with a doctor tending to him, he was left wondering if he had experienced an accurate vision of her thoughts, something transmitted by her blood—which she had injected so violently into his bloodstream. They had been born fraternal twins, and perhaps the injection had intensified a paranormal connection they’d already had.

“He’s breathing hard,” the doctor said.

Through bleary eyes, Noah saw an elderly man with white hair. Noah tried to calm his own pulse, but became conscious of it roaring in his ears as blood pumped wildly through his veins.

Could their father’s death really have occurred the way he had just envisioned it? Noah was stunned, but somehow it all seemed to fit.

He felt medications taking effect, and heard the voices drift away again, but this time he blacked out.