The Web and the Stars (13 page)

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.

Anton Glavine, whom Gio had seen standing at a window earlier, was nowhere to be seen. The commandos checked floor after floor, not finding Noah, either. But it was an immense facility.

On the limited number of levels they reached, they fired stun pellets, knocking guards into unconsciousness. The commando team’s security robot got its remote camera working, and in a blur of speed, the flying probe searched every remaining section of the prison. There were many more guards on other levels, but no sign of Noah or Anton.

Just as the flying probe searched the last area, Gio glanced at his wristchron, and saw that he only had a couple of more minutes before they had to leave. Gio’s imagination ran wild. Maybe Noah and Anton were being interrogated in a hidden room, or even tortured. The Doge’s prisons were notorious hellholes.

Hearing voices just ahead, around a corner, he stopped. Holding up his hand, the rest of his team paused with him, and listened. The alarm robot sent the flying probe ahead. Studying a small screen on the robot, Gio saw the camera flicker as it sent a fuzzy signal.

On the image he saw Anton Glavine, seated at a chair with uniformed Red Berets around, interrogating him. No sign of Noah Watanabe anywhere, but on this level and on the route to reach it there were more guards than his small force could overcome. To Gio it looked too risky to attempt a rescue of Anton.

“You have such a convenient memory,” one of the interrogators said, a burly man with a black beard. “Somehow you can’t recall anything about where Guardian headquarters is, but you admit being there? How is that?”

“I don’t know,” Anton said, “but I’m telling you the truth.” He smiled grimly. “Maybe it’s stress-induced, and you should let up on me.”

“I wish they’d let us use more efficient methods on this one,” the man said, “and on Watanabe. I’d get the information out of both of them.”

“So, he hasn’t told you, either?” Anton asked.

“Obviously, or we wouldn’t be pressing you. At least he doesn’t have a cock-and-bull story like yours, and he admits knowing. He keeps talking about honor and duty. Makes me want to puke.”

The interrogators paused as a woman in a hooded cloak emerged from a side door, carrying a tray of food. As she set the tray on a table, Glavine was ushered over and seated. He glanced at the woman, then began to eat quickly. The Red Berets stood to one side, talking and not paying attention to the pair.

With a quick motion the woman whispered something to Glavine, then hurried away. He looked surprised at whatever she had to say. Just before she departed through a doorway her hood fell open for a moment, revealing blond hair and a heart-shaped face. She slipped away, unnoticed by the guards.

She was the most stunningly beautiful creature Gio had ever seen. He played the holo-image back on the robot’s screen, then froze the frame. And recognized her. She was, unmistakably, Princess

Meghina of Siriki! But what was the famous courtesan and companion of the Doge doing here, serving food to a prisoner and trying to conceal her identity?

An odd feeling came over Gio, a mixture of questions and the sense that all he was seeing, while fascinating, would not result in finding Noah. Anton might be a good secondary target to rescue—in view of the rumors about him—but he seemed to have an important benefactor, a noblewoman. Were they lovers? Was Lorenzo really his father? One thing seemed clear: Any attempt to get him now would certainly result in a firefight, and he’d be on the losing end. If Anton had been alone in an isolated cell, it might have been different. But this was much more complicated. Anton was the focus of too much attention.

Noah didn’t seem to be here, but wherever they were keeping him they would undoubtedly move him to a more secure place after an assault on Max One. Better to retreat and regroup.

Gio gave the necessary comsignal, then led his team back the way they had come. In a matter of minutes, he and the others were outside and in the water again, with the exception of one robot, who sealed himself in the airlock and pumped water out of it. Afterward he would reseal the underwater door to the prison, using a mortar patch he had brought along. It would not look the same as the original door, but in the murky darkness of the prison should go unnoticed for a time.

As Gio emerged from the water and crawled up the riverbank on the other side, he felt dismal. He had developed an excellent rescue plan for the facility, but it seemed likely that Noah had been moved. Maybe he wasn’t even alive.

For Giovanni Nehr’s career path, a very bad scenario had come to pass.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

When making important leadership decisions, take care to avoid certain emotions such as anger or envy, since they can be dangerous to your mission. But don’t avoid emotions entirely. Always follow your gut instincts.

—Noah Watanabe

Thinker had developed a veiling energy field to protect the subterranean headquarters, a system that was superior to the original infrared scrambling system he had set up. Now he felt even more confident that Noah’s enemies would not locate their headquarters inside rock-lined underground burrows. Most of the hidden facility lay deep beneath hills near Noah’s former ecological demonstration compound, but some of the newer chambers were close to the edge of his old property.

With the improved technology, the robot was not concerned about security. They could burrow directly beneath the old administration buildings if they wanted to, and would not be detected.

Learning of this, Subi liked the irony, and at first he thought it might be an unexpected action that Noah had taken himself—a slap in the face of his enemies. But Subi’s better judgment told him to maintain caution.…

He had trouble making some decisions. With Noah missing—incarcerated or worse—Subi felt out of balance. For the months of the Master’s absence he’d been trying to keep the Guardians going, and he had done reasonably well in recruitment, bringing in hundreds of young men and women, along with the new machines that Thinker was building. Subi had helped obtain materials for the robots, and had given the robot leader specifications for the mechanical fighters and support workers that he needed.

On the surface, seen through the eyes of the Guardian membership, the organization seemed to be doing well. They were not only growing in number; they were making successful, destructive raids against the Doge’s Red Berets and Francella’s CorpOne assets. But to Subi, those successes only masked the deep pain he felt inside, the terrible, gnawing fear that he would never see Noah again.

Is he dead?

On one level, it seemed impossible to him; Noah Watanabe was the strongest person he had ever met, and even had an odd restorative power that Subi had observed himself, the ability to regenerate an amputated left foot. Cellular regeneration. Amazing. But Subi still assumed Noah was mortal, a container of cells that would eventually decay and die.

The loyal adjutant didn’t want to think that way, and tried to remain optimistic. He would follow Noah off a cliff if ordered to do so, would do anything for the great man. With loving attention to detail, Subi was keeping the Guardians going for Noah, caretaking them until his friend and mentor returned. But what if that never happened? What if the worst had occurred?

He could not share such terrible thoughts with anyone for fear of destroying the organization, could only live with his terrible fears each day, constantly trying to put them out of his mind.

In Noah’s absence, Subi had to make do in any number of ways. The adjutant missed being able to consult with his boss on tough decisions, or having Noah ask him for his advice. He missed their walks together on the Ecological Demonstration Project, and hearing the renowned man identify every plant they passed. He missed conducting classes together on Eco Station. Now, with all of that gone, Subi had to motivate young minds in new ways. He still conducted classes, still taught ecology, but it was not the same. Holo-images of plants, shown to students in underground caverns, were not the same as the real thing.

It was all second-rate, except for Noah’s own writings on galactic ecology, which Subi prepared for classroom education and distributed to the students.

* * * * *

On the operating table at the CorpOne medical laboratory, Noah sensed evil forces at work against him, and felt their debilitating effects on him. He heard his loathsome sister’s taunting voice, but could not focus on her words. Drugs were keeping him submerged.

His tortured mind struggled and groped, searching for escape, and he did manage to achieve a timetrance, but it was not the serenity he longed for, not a haven to restore his energies and his desire to fight on. He felt dismal.

Like an injured predator, he attempted to gain control over a podship that was docked in a pod station, wanting to take the vessel out on the podways. But as his mental tendrils reached out and touched the podship, it jerked away from him, and fled into space.

Yet Noah kept reaching out, and this time he took a different direction.…

* * * * *

Just before Noah’s capture, he had asked Thinker to download a backup copy of his brain into one of the robot’s data banks. The Guardian leader had been thinking about his own mortality, and wanted to make sure his teachings were directly available to his followers, in case something happened to him.

For some time afterward the cerebral robot contemplated the best means of preserving and presenting the information in Noah’s mind. Finally he came up with something beyond what either of them originally contemplated. He created a three-dimensional color likeness of Noah on a large square screen, visible by opening a panel on the front of the robot’s torso. It looked and behaved like the original person, and even interacted with anyone speaking to the screen. For further realism the image had freckles on its face, as well as tiny scars and blemishes on the 3-D body, all precisely correct from every side.

Anxious to show off his new creation, Thinker went to Subi Danvar’s underground office, and entered unannounced.

The adjutant stood at a work table, thumbing through a pile of paper documents. Hearing the metallic sounds as the robot entered, he turned. “I’ll just be a minute,” Subi said, going back to his work.

As Thinker waited, he slid open the new video panel on his chest, and the image of Noah Watanabe flashed on.

“Hurry it up, hurry it up,” the simulacrum said in a voice that very nearly matched the original.

“Eh?” Startled, Subi dropped the papers, scattering them on the floor.

“You heard me,” the Noah said. “Now come over here where I can get a better look at you.”

Timidly, Subi approached the screen, where the face of Noah Watanabe stared at him in displeasure.

“What is this?” Subi said, looking up at Thinker’s metal face, just above the screen.

Thinker did not reply, but the video image did. “I’m not in the habit of being ignored by a subordinate. Speak to me, Subi, not to the robot.”

Perplexed, Subi backed up, staring all the while at the screen. “Thinker, tell me what’s going on here.”

The robot formed a stiff smile. “When Master Noah was with us, I used my organic interface connection to download the contents of his brain. All perfectly harmless, I just made a copy, with no harm to the original. I did it at his request, to leave a backup copy of him behind. A dated copy, of course, only containing memories and experiences that were in place on the date of the interaction.”

Just then a swirling mist formed around the screen, unseen by anyone. They did, however, see the image of Noah flicker.

“I think it has a short circuit,” Subi said. “You’d better shut it off.”

“Absurd,” Thinker said. “I have instant access to every one of my circuits, and they are all operating perfectly.”

“Then why is Noah’s face flickering?”

“My circuits report no malfunction.”

“You must be wrong, my friend.” Subi saw the image of Noah partially concealed by a gray film, as if a fog had gotten inside the screen. “Robots can make mistakes too, once in a while.”

“I’m no ordinary robot.” Thinker whirred, and then looked down at the screen on his own chest. “Mmmm. Peculiar. Perhaps I should fold shut and contemplate this.” For some reason, though, he delayed.

The foggy gray film inside the screen looked peculiar to Subi, and gave him an unsettled feeling. It swirled around, and then seemed to dart into the image of Noah and vanish entirely. Simultaneously, the eyes and face of Master Noah looked more alive, more alert, and still Thinker did not fold himself shut.…

* * * * *

“You’re looking rather stressed,” Noah said to Subi. “Perhaps we can have one of our old talks again, and I could give you some advice that will be of assistance?”

“I doubt that,” Subi said. He tapped the robot on the head, and said, “Thinker, this …
thing …
uses computer programming to carry on conversations?”

Hesitation. Then: “5zocomputer programming. It acts like the original, reacts like Noah really would to any given situation.”

“So,
it
could still lead us?”

“Well,” Thinker said, “I have already discussed this possibility with the programmed likeness, and it doesn’t think that would be practical.”

“Kindly do not refer to me as a thing or an it,” the image said.

“A most peculiar sensation,” Thinker said. “The spoken words are not emanating from my operating circuits.”

“That’s because I really
am
Noah. Not in the customary sense, since my corporal form is somewhere else. Even so, I have come here, and I’m with you now at this very moment. Now listen carefully, and I’ll tell you where they’re keeping me.”

“Most unusual,” Thinker said.

“Good one,” Subi said. “Nice trick, Thinker.”

“Not a trick,” the robot said. “Something is going wrong … going wrong.” With the repeated words, Thinker’s voice merged with Noah’s, and came from the screen.

Subi reached out, and touched the face on the screen.

But the voice from the screen grew weak, and said, “I can’t hold the connection any longer.…” In a few seconds the voice faded out entirely, and the strange animation of the image went away with it, leaving it less lifelike and more in the nature of a video recording, as it had been originally.