Webdancers (4 page)

Chapter Eight

Noah worries incessantly about his genetic linkage to Francella Watanabe, and her severe mental health issues. But there is an ancillary problem, something he has not discussed with me, and which I have not had the courage to bring up: Is not Doge Anton genetically linked to Francella as well, and might there be psychological repercussions because of that?

—Tesh Kori, private notes

Thousands of additional Tulyan pilots had arrived from the starcloud, and were being meshed with the podships like alien marital partners, using the ancient techniques to ensure the maximum efficiency of the Tulyan-Aopoddae linkages. Now, counting the original nine hundred podships that the Liberator fleet had brought to the galactic fold, Doge Anton had a force of more than one hundred twenty-two thousand podships. As had earlier occurred with the original fleet, as the new pilot-ship matchings were completed, the sentient podships took on the reptilian faces of their pilots, and opened up gun ports on the sides of their hulls.

The process was going well. Only two hundred and fourteen podships remained to be synchronized by the Tulyans, plus a few more out in the reaches of the fold that needed to be brought in.

Noah, Anton, and Eshaz stood at a viewing window inside a modular headquarters structure that General Nirella’s military technicians had constructed. Held in place by space anchors, it was positioned exactly where the Palace of Woldn used to be, which was considered the most central—and most commanding—position in the entire fold.

The three leaders stood with a number of dignitaries who had been brought in after the victory here over the Parviis, including two members of the Council of Elders and a number of merchant princes. They watched while teams of Tulyan podship handlers worked in the airless vacuum with the remaining, unsynchronized Aopoddae.

The entire Liberator fleet had been delayed while Tulyan experts synchronized and stabilized the vast fleet, necessary to ensure that there would be no rebellion in the Aopoddae ranks, and that every one of the sentient ships was working in concert with the pilots. This involved subtle methods of synchronicity and mutual respect, ways that had been known to the Tulyans since time immemorial, and by which they ensured the integrity of the immense fleet.

“It has been very difficult to integrate so many ships,” Eshaz said, “but we’re almost there. Long ago, the Parviis did something similar, using their own methods. We’re replacing their bonds with our own, then checking and rechecking.”

“And those are the most difficult of the bunch,” Anton said, pointing out at the podships that were still being worked.

“Precisely. We’ve separated them from the others, and are performing final tests on the others as we speak. Keep in mind, too, that this is not a process of breaking or taming the podships. Rather, we must harmonize with them.”

“Just as Humans and other races need to do in nature,” Noah said.

“Well put, my good friend,” Eshaz said. He touched Noah’s left arm affectionately before pulling away. Then, looking at Doge Anton, the Tulyan added, “If final tests go as anticipated, the rest of the fleet should be able to depart for the starcloud in two days.”

“And the recalcitrants?” Anton asked, gesturing again at the podships outside.

“They can be left behind for more work. Eventually, they will be integrated with the others. These just have more difficult Parvii bonds to overcome.”

Anton tapped on the window plax. “Can they be merged with the guard force of one hundred armed vessels that we’re leaving?”

“Some, perhaps. We’ll see.”

Outside, Noah saw three additional podships being brought into the mooring basin, including one piloted by Acey Zelk. In the only way that a Human could do this, the teenager stood on top of the vessel. He wore a life support suit, and was secured to the beast by an ornate harness. He used thorn-vines to guide the creature. The suit and harness enable him to travel at high speeds, as fast as the podship could go. The young man was grinning as he came in atop the hull, and he waved toward the viewing window.

Noah and Eshaz waved back.

But Noah withdrew his hand quickly. He wore a long-sleeve shirt, and the extension of his left arm had revealed something that had been troubling him for several days … a rough area of gray-and-black skin that ran from the forearm to the shoulder and down across his torso, like a mineral vein.

He had not wanted to see a doctor about the condition, suspecting that it was far beyond anything a medical practitioner could understand. Much of his own paranormal abilities undoubtedly stemmed from the time that Eshaz had healed him of a serious head injury by connecting him to a torn fragment of Timeweb. Afterward Noah’s own sister, Francella, had attempted to kill him by the most brutal of methods, by hacking him to pieces. Through some miracle, he had survived the dismemberment attempt, growing back all of his severed body parts like an exotic lizard.

The doctors had been dumbfounded.

Even after all that, Noah’s demented, dying sister had injected him with a dermex of her own tainted, contaminated blood. Since then, Noah had been increasingly concerned, but had not wanted to consult with anyone about it, not even Eshaz. Whatever was happening to his body would happen, and Noah sensed—very strongly—that neither he nor anyone else could do anything about it.

The night before, while sleeping in accommodations that had been provided for him in the headquarters building, he’d experienced an odd dream about Francella in which she had chased him across the Parvii Fold. It had seemed so real, but had been utterly impossible, since Francella had died after injecting herself with an immortality elixir—a substance that turned against her and made her age rapidly. It was with that tainted blood that she had injected Noah, just before dying herself prematurely. His relationship with her had been a real nightmare. No matter how many good things Noah had tried to do for her during his lifetime, nothing had worked and she had never appreciated any of it. To the end she had remained bitter toward him, irrationally blaming him for her troubles and trying to kill him.

Now Noah saw Eshaz watching him closely, as the Tulyan sometimes did.

Then Noah remembered Eshaz touching his affected arm a few minutes ago. With their truthing touch ability, Tulyans could read thoughts if they desired to do so. But Noah had been wearing the long-sleeve shirt, and Eshaz hadn’t felt the skin directly. Noah had always assumed that direct skin contact was necessary, but what if that wasn’t the case? What if Tulyan mental probes could penetrate the fabric?

With Noah staring back at him, Eshaz lowered his gaze.

In privacy that evening, Noah examined his arm closely, and an unavoidable thought occurred to him. The affected area that he’d been trying to hide reminded him of podship skin.

Chapter Nine

Great historical events can be illusory to their participants, and to the historians who write about them afterward. Even with the passage of time and the seasoning of history, the truth can still be elusive.

—Sister Janiko, one of the “veiled historians” of Lost Earth

After reading a holo-report that floated above his desktop, Pimyt paused and looked up. “This looks good,” he said to the dignitary sitting across from him, an insectoid man in a white-and-gold suit.

Ambassador VV Uncel did not respond. He stared at a small handheld screen.

“VV?”

“Eh?” The Adurian’s voice squeaked. “Oh, sorry, my roommate gave me a list of things he wants me to do. Household tasks.”

“Ah yes, what Humans call the ‘honey-do’ list.”

“Yes. He’s quite demanding.”

Even though Uncel and his male roommate were in what the Adurians called an ‘affectionate relationship,’ Pimyt knew it was not sexually intimate. It couldn’t possibly be, because the androgynous Adurians, renowned for their laboratory breeding methods, even relied upon them entirely for the propagation of their own race.

“Now what were you saying?” the Ambassador asked.

“Just that the report looks good. The results are exactly as I expected.”

“As
we
expected,” Ambassador VV Uncel said. Like all of his race, he was entirely hairless, a mixture of mammalian and insectoid features with a small head and large bulbous eyes. His skin was a bright patchwork of multicolored caste markings, symbolizing high social status.

“Don’t take that tone with me. The minute I learned about Human military operations on Canopa, I found out their purpose, and I knew instantly they would fail against Parvii telepathic weapons. That was all in
my
initial report to the Coalition, predating anything you wrote.”

The Ambassador raised his chin haughtily. “Your report would not have gone anywhere if I hadn’t concurred with your
guess
.”

“What do you mean,
guess
?” Pimyt felt his face flush hot, and considered hurling something at the irritating diplomat. For a moment, he scanned the objects on his desk, a glax paperweight that could kill him, a paper spike that could do the same, or put out an eye.…

The Hibbil’s gaze settled on a book that was heavy enough to cause pain if hurled accurately, but wouldn’t do lasting physical harm. He’d never taken such action before, though, and knew he shouldn’t even consider it. Too much was at stake.

Taking a deep breath, Pimyt continued. “In my position as the Royal Attaché to Doge Lorenzo del Velli, I gained extensive military experience. I was personally responsible for moving MPA troops and equipment around, taking steps to weaken merchant prince military capabilities while maximizing our own. I was also on the team that came up with the idea of inserting sabotaged computer chips into the firing mechanisms of merchant prince space cannons, ion guns, and energy detonators. The weapons will seem to operate perfectly, until our warships come into range and are identified—which automatically shuts the weapons down. What a delightful image: totally defenseless Humans, ready to be slaughtered.”

The elegant insectoid smiled. “You are so like your Human friends, aren’t you? Always exaggerating your contribution, trying to take personal credit for everything. We Adurians are not that way, and understand the need to share credit, to work as a team. You know quite well that I had similar devices installed surreptitiously on the biggest Mutati warships, but I’m not bragging about it.”

Pimyt grabbed the book. Perhaps if he threw it just right it would strike the Ambassador hard enough in the head to knock him out for a few minutes. Yes, he could do it quickly, without warning. Then he could.… The Hibbil salivated, but he set the violent thought aside, and the book.

“Let’s stop bickering,” Pimyt said. “We agree the Humans have gone on a fool’s mission against the Parviis, and soon we’ll learn the scale of it.” He pointed to the holo-screen, which displayed a report sent back by HibAdu observers who had positioned lab-pods out on the podways to watch for enemy activity. “The Humans have big problems tying them down at the Parvii Fold, so much that they even had to send hundreds of ships back to the Tulyan Starcloud for reinforcements.”

“Our Coalition forces are in perfect position, my furry friend. With the merchant princes tied up in a distant battle, their planets will be easy pickings for our massive fleet of four hundred and seventy-six thousand lab-pods, filled with military armaments and fighters. Uncel gestured with his wiry hands as he spoke. “The only question being worked out now is how to distribute our forces for the simultaneous attacks on Merchant Prince Alliance and Mutati Kingdom targets. The Humans have spread themselves too thin, so we’re assigning more of our forces to the attacks on Mutati worlds.”

Nodding, Pimyt said, “Our enemies have weakened themselves by warring against each other, and now the shapeshifters have been further weakened by the destruction of their homeworld, Paradij.”

“Close call for me,” Uncel mused, tapping a long finger on the desk top. “I got away just in time.”

A pity
, Pimyt thought. His eyes felt hot as he glared at the Ambassador.

Uncel paused, seemed nervous as he continued to speak. “Only two days before the destruction, I was with the Zultan Abal Meshdi, spent a night in his palace. He was completely insane, you know, with that Demolio program to blow up merchant prince planets—wiping out our potential prizes of war.”

Pimyt nodded. “It is a double-edged sword, isn’t it? Less planets, but the Mutatis are weaker because of the loss of Paradij.”

“Lucky for me, I had to get back here for an appointment.” Uncel scratched his wiry neck. “Hard to believe Meshdi’s own son did it, a murder conspiracy with a huge miscalculation that blew up the most important Mutati planet. Even though rumors are rampant that Hari’Adab did that, most Mutatis seem willing to forgive him. “

“No figuring shapeshifters,” Pimyt said.

“That’s for sure. Even so, both target empires still have many valuables for us. We’ll hit them hard, out of the blue.”

“I’d like to meet our own leaders one day,” Pimyt mused, “especially High Ruler Coreq.”

“Many things are far more important,” the Ambassador said, his tone sharp.

Pimyt fumed. “Don’t you see? We have a lot in common, you and I, including important assignments from HibAdu commanders we’ve never met.”

“No matter. Our careers are assured. Reports from each of us have proven invaluable to the HibAdu effort.”

Pimyt grinned. “To make up for my
perceived
selfishness, I must give credit to your own resourcefulness in the not-too-distant past.”

Uncel’s already-large eyes widened, and he smiled. “But I have so many accomplishments, my friend. As a
team
member, of course. Of what do you speak?”

“I’m thinking of the time you obtained raw information from the Mutatis on the nehrcom cross-space communication system, a system that the Mutatis could not perfect. But our scientists certainly had no problems figuring it out, did they?”

“No. Truly, our forces are poised, and are fortunate. With Hibbil manufacturing skills and Adurian biotech knowledge, it is a combination of the best. No longer will our people be under the boot heels of the Humans and Mutatis.”

“We live in legendary times,” Pimyt said. “After the great HibAdu victory, perhaps historians will write of our own contributions, VV. To the
team
, of course. Incidentally, I was just teasing you when I exaggerated my own contribution. Sometimes it is quite simple to agitate you.”

“Yes,
friend
, but rile me at your own peril. You think I’m a pushover, don’t you?”

“I think a lot of things about you that are not productive to mention. A pushover? Perhaps, but I have never required a weak opponent to prevail.” He leaned forward over the desk. “But let us turn our talents elsewhere, shall we?”

“Ah yes, an excellent suggestion. Combined, we are much stronger, aren’t we? And that’s what the Coalition is all about.”