Webdancers (8 page)

Chapter Eighteen

If you look hard enough, there are always surprises in this universe.

—Tulyan Wisdom

Inside the inverted, floating dome of the Council Chamber, Hari’Adab addressed the small gathering, choosing to emit synchronized, pulsing sounds from his puckish little mouth. It was not an orifice that had been part of his natural-born state, but was instead something he had improvised (and varied slightly from time to time) when he became old enough to care about his appearance. Now, dressed in a flowing robe that cascaded over his mounds of fat, the Emir paced in front of the wide council bench.

“Since you know my name and I know some of yours, allow me to introduce two of my companions.” He motioned back to the aeromutati who stood off to one side, just behind him. “This is Parais d’Olor, the gentlest of all Mutatis, a person who brings peace to my heart.”

He nodded somberly in her direction, then looked back to the other side, where Kajor Yerto Bhaleen stood with military erectness. After introducing him by title and name, he said, “Yerto is the highest officer in the Military High Command. He gives me advice in matters of war. But he knows, and fully understands, that I seek peace as the highest priority of my people.”

Noting skepticism on the faces of Doge Anton and Noah Watanabe, he gazed at them with oval, bright black eyes and said, “The Elders told me of your tremendous military victory over the Parviis. Unfortunately, while you were occupied with that, the Merchant Prince Alliance and the Mutati Kingdom fell to conquerors.”

The Humans glared at him. Then Anton responded, “Between us, we may have three planets left. Whatever the case, we
will
fight back.”

Beside them, a large Tulyan and a Human-looking woman watched Hari warily. The young Emir, with a racial ability to detect subtle details of physical appearance, noticed immediately that the female was not really Human, but had altered her appearance to look that way. She was not, however, a Mutati. What was she, then? Wondering if her companions knew of her secret identity, the Emir decided she would bear close watching. That one could be dangerous.

In a careful tone, he said, “We each have our own terrible burdens to bear, Doge Anton. And we must face reality. Our peoples need to put our wasteful, ancient feud to rest.”

“Mutatis have never shown us anything but aggression,” Anton said, with a glower.

“That will change, now that I am in charge. The old ways have not been productive or kind to anyone, so I refuse to continue them. Over the centuries, billions and billions of Mutatis and Humans have died due to our ongoing wars. It makes no sense.”

“War is the biggest polluter of all,” Noah said, somberly.

“Ah, yes, the famous galactic ecologist. I have heard many things about you, Mr. Watanabe. My father used to speak of you derisively, but he and I never agreed on much of anything.” The Emir smiled, but it didn’t hold, and tears began to stream down his face.

In a halting tone, as if hardly able to utter the words, Hari’Adab told of the horrendous error Zad Qato had made in the trajectory calculations on a Demolio shot, and how it had destroyed the beautiful Mutati homeworld of Paradij, killing all of its populace. Billions of lives lost due to one miscalculation. As he spoke he trembled, and tears streamed down his face. “I, I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his face.

The big Tulyan stepped closer to Hari. “I am Eshaz,” he said. “Do not be alarmed, but I must make skin contact with you. Is the back of your neck all right?”

“The truthing touch.” Hari looked up at the seated Elders. “But they have already done this to me, to Parais, and all of the other Mutatis with me. They have also done the same with HibAdu prisoners we turned over to them.”

The Tulyan hesitated, looked to his superiors for guidance.

“Go ahead,” First Elder Kre’n said to Eshaz. “You are especially gifted in this area. Perhaps you will find something we missed.”

Eshaz touched the back of Hari’s neck, and the Emir felt the coarseness of the reptilian hand on his skin. It remained there for only a few moments, before Eshaz withdrew and announced, “He is being honest with us. The shapeshifter leader bears us no ill will, and he intends to take the Mutati people in a new direction.”

“If he can save the remains of his race, of course,” the peculiar woman said.

Hari nodded, trying to be dispassionate.

“We were aware of the loss of your homeworld,” Noah said.

“Oh? How?”

“I have certain … um, paranormal … abilities that permit me to peer into the universe from time to time. Where Paradij used to be, I saw only a debris field floating in space. I did not, however, know how it happened, or why.”

“It has been said that we live in a universe of magic,” Hari said. “You are, perhaps, one of the primary examples of that.”

“And an entire race of shapeshifters is another,” the woman said.

“And you are?” Hari asked, in his most polite tone.

“Tesh Kori. I’ve noticed you looking at me strangely. Is there a particular reason for that?”

“Maybe it is a defect of my personality. If I have offended you, I apologize most sincerely.”

“It’s not that, not at all.” She exchanged glances with Eshaz, then added, “You have discerned something about me. Please, share with everyone here what it is.”

“Are you certain you want me to do that?” Hari looked around at the Humans and Tulyans in the great chamber.

“I have nothing to hide from them. These are my friends. And if Eshaz’s report on you is correct, you might become one of them yourself.”

“We shall see about that.” He smiled. “For one thing, I see that you are a woman of considerable charm. In my experience, I must tell you that charming people are to be watched more closely than others.”

“Because they can be manipulative, you mean?” she said, looking past him at Parais d’Olor.

“Precisely.”

She lifted her chin haughtily. “And you have come all the way from the Mutati Kingdom to warn everyone about me?”

Laughter echoed around the large chamber, from the Elders and from her own companions.

Maintaining his composure, Hari said, “Madam, I would have said nothing about anything I might have noticed, but you have pressed me to speak. Very well, you are not what you appear to be. By that, I mean, you are not Human.”

“She’s a Parvii, and we all know it,” Eshaz said. “Do you think we didn’t achieve full openness with her, just as we have verified from you?”

“I see. A member of the defeated race. I have heard of you. Not exactly shapeshifters, from what I hear. Some sort of magnification system, I am told.”

“Your reports are accurate,” Tesh said. “Science or magic? Where does one end and the other begin?”

“Where, indeed?” Hari said. We’re going to need a lot of both if our races are to survive the present catastrophe.”

“You refer to the HibAdu matter, of course,” First Elder Kre’n said, from the bench. “But there are other, even more pressing matters that you might not be aware of.” She looked at the two other Elders with her, at Eshaz, and then at Noah Watanabe.

“Something worse than the HibAdus?” Hari said. “But how can that be?”

“The galaxy, we’re sad to inform you, is crumbling. We took a huge podship fleet away from the Parviis in order to set up a massive galactic repair program. When there is more time, we will tell you more. But suffice to tell you now that in ancient times the Sublime Creator of the galaxy assigned an important duty to the Tulyan race. We were the caretakers of the weblike galactic infrastructure, with jurisdiction over all podships, for the purpose of performing our important work.”

Hari struggled to keep up with the new information, but decided not to ask questions. He and the others here knew there had been a feeling-out process among those present as they got to know one another, and that the apparent small talk had not been that at all. It had been important to get the relationships sorted out among themselves. It still was.

“I want to work with you in any way possible,” Hari said. “The last I checked, much of my most elite military force remained intact, holding out against the attackers at Dij.”

He formed a frown on his fleshy face, and his snout twitched as he turned his gaze on Doge Anton. Then the shapeshifter leader asked, “I assume you are going to assign podship assets to the defense of the Merchant Prince Alliance?”

“We’re working through those details now,” the youthful doge said.

“Assuming you send some military assets to the MPA, might I ask that some be assigned to assist the Mutati Kingdom as well?”

“It is possible,” First Elder Kre’n said. “Now, we must move quickly. Far beyond Human and Mutati domains, the entire galaxy is a battlefield, and we must triage it, assigning our assets on a priority basis.”

The Tulyan leader looked around at the small assemblage, and announced, “You have all come to me, my Human and Mutati friends—and my one Parvii friend, of course—and all of us should consider ourselves caretakers of the galactic web. It is a shared responsibility among races, at a time of crisis like none other in the annals of history.”

Doors opened around the chamber, and robed Tulyan dignitaries marched in, from several directions. They took seats at the remaining council chairs on the curved bench. The Tulyan Elders—twenty of them now—all conferred for several minutes in a language that Hari could not understand.

Then Kre’n leaned forward and announced, “Eighty percent of our podships will be assigned to galactic recovery operations, and twenty percent to Human and Mutati military operations. Doge Anton, you shall have the authority to work out the proper allocation of those assets.”

Anton and Noah nodded in deference to the Council leader. Then the young doge said, “I concur fully. The welfare of the entire galaxy must take precedence over the military threats.”

“We would prefer to allocate fewer ships to the HibAdu matter, but our technicians are studying the two laboratory-bred podships that the Emir brought with him—and they’ve already determined that such vessels cause damage to the podways on which they travel. Tiny green fibers of the Timeweb infrastructure have been found in the undercarriage tracks of the lab-pods.” Kre’n scowled. “Those ships are burning up the podways. As you can see, Doge Anton, your duties coincide with our own ecological recovery operations.”

“I understand,” Anton said.

Kre’n continued in a solemn tone. “When you succeed in your military operations—and I have every confidence that you will—we shall expect to reassign your podships to galactic restoration projects. Your primary responsibilities are to remove the artificial podships from service, and to save Human and Mutati worlds.”

“It will be done,” Anton said. “We’ll hit the HibAdus with everything we have, starting from the three planetary fronts.”

With a sense of urgency in the air, the Council of Elders adjourned the meeting, and called for new ones to begin in different portions of the large chamber—to deal with the galactic ecology and HibAdu crises. Decisions had to be made quickly, so that the ships and crews could be dispatched where they were most needed.

Chapter Nineteen

Noah is a composite man, a puzzle person forged in a galactic crucible. I can’t help being drawn to him.

—Tesh Kori, private notes

In only a short time, Doge Anton del Velli made the most important decision of his brief political career. After consulting with the robot leader Thinker, as well as with his other top advisers, Anton divided the twenty-four thousand podships under his control into three task forces. Anton and Nirella would take twelve thousand of them to the merchant prince homeworld of Canopa, while Noah would lead six thousand in the Siriki mission. Another six thousand podships would be assigned to the military needs of the Mutati planet of Dij.

As the meetings and submeetings formed, military officers and Tulyan caretakers flowed into the large chamber and headed for their various sessions. To accommodate the acoustic needs of the groups, the Elders used shimmering energy fields to separate the sections.

In nine hours, all of the plans were essentially complete, and the various groups began to break up. The ecological recovery operations would follow ancient patterns. On the military side, the tactics for the rescue of each of the three planets had to proceed with caution, because of the lack of clear intelligence from the field.

As Anton concluded his Canopa meeting, Tesh and he talked with the largest Tulyan Elder, Dabiggio. The stern Elder looked down at Tesh and said to her, “Before you depart, I must comment on your own pod, the one you call
Webdancer
. Prior to your involvement with the vessel, it was marooned on Plevin Four for a long time.”

“That is correct.” She felt perplexed.

“I must tell you that the podship had a different appellation in ancient times—Clegg. It was one of the strongest and fastest ships, high-spirited but unproved, and only known to the Tulyans for a short while before the entire race of podships was swarmed and taken by the Parviis. You didn’t know that, did you?”

“I know some things about
Webdancer
, but the vessels are enigmatic, as you know.”

“So, you didn’t know what I told you?”

She smiled. “I didn’t say that.”

“And how did it get marooned?” Anton asked.

Dabiggio hesitated, appeared to calm himself with a heave of his wide shoulders. Then: “We have learned from a variation of the truthing touch that the vessel rebelled against its Parvii masters and fled into space. For hundreds of thousands of years it roamed the cosmos, and no one could capture it. The rest of its story remains, thus far, unrevealed to us.”

“My podship has a rather independent personality,” Tesh said, giving the Tulyan a gentle smile. “Perhaps it will reveal its full story to me one day.”

He stared at her rigidly. “Unlikely. Parviis do not have the telepathic skills of Tulyans, so you would have difficulty conversing with him.”

“But we do have some of those skills, as you know.”

“True enough, but beside the point. Here’s what I want to tell you. By tradition, the names of podships have always remained unchanged. Once Clegg, always Clegg.”

The remark hit Tesh hard, and took something personal away from her. She looked at the clearglax floor and the starcloud mists visible beyond.

“Do you understand what I am saying to you?” Dabiggio asked in a gruff tone.

“You want me to change the name back?”

“Exactly. It is not good luck to do otherwise.”

“Nonsense,” First Elder Kre’n interjecting as she came over to them. “Tell her what we decided as a Council, not what you believe independently.”

Dabiggio wrinkled his reptilian face in displeasure. He said nothing.

“I’ll tell her, then,” Kre’n said. She looked at the Parvii woman and said, “Tesh Kori, you are admired by the Council of Elders, and there is widespread recognition of your contributions to the success of the Liberators. Even Dabiggio—who tries to argue with everything—cannot really dispute this. In honor of your service to the cause, we have decided that you may continue to use the appellation
Webdancer
for the pod.”

“That pleases me very much,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

As Anton and she left the chamber together, he said, “I would have allowed you to keep the name, anyway. Those old Elders can’t tell us everything to do, even though they might think they can.”

“Would that really have been a battle you should have picked?” she asked, remembering for a moment how close the two of them had once been.

Darkness came over his features. “Maybe I’m a bit of a rebel myself. Now, let’s move on to the battles that really matter.”

* * * * *

Tulyan wranglers separated twenty-four thousand podships from the main fleet, and further divided the smaller portion into three even smaller fleets, earmarked for Canopa, Siriki, and Dij.

For the Sirikan rescue mission, Noah Watanabe controlled six thousand sentient warships, which he quickly calculated to be five percent of the entire Liberator fleet. After receiving the ships, he and Subi Danvar supervised the details of their military assault force, passing instructions on to their subordinates about how they wanted personnel and equipment loaded into the podships.

All the while, the wranglers and other Tulyan specialists coordinated and synchronized the various vessels in each of the military fleets. Anton’s portion, the largest, would get underway first, in part because of the already proven leadership qualities of the flagship,
Webdancer
. But there were larger reasons. Canopa was unarguably the most important of the surviving planets, and Noah had reported to Anton his troubling vision in which the planet—and Noah’s former EcoStation orbiting it—appeared to be drifting toward a dangerous timehole. Noah had also arranged with the Elders to have a Tulyan repair team sent there.

Discussing that in the Tulyan Council Chamber, Anton had said, “I know what you’re thinking, Noah, that you would prefer to go on the Canopa mission. But I need you to head up the Sirikan operation for me. I’m weighing all the factors, and that is my decision.”

Noah had nodded, but recalled chewing the inside of his own mouth to the point of rawness, as he resisted arguing with his superior … a wound that still hurt a little.

“A timehole,” Anton had said. “If that additional element is indeed added to the already ongoing military operations there, I’m not certain what any of us can do to keep the planet and the orbiter from vanishing into the cosmic whirlpool. I only know that I have to be there firsthand, to do whatever I can.”

It was the mission that Anton wanted, so he would have it.

Noah’s smaller fleet, and the one of matching size assigned to the Mutati rescue mission, would have individual flagships, thus requiring more preparations and coordination—work that was not commenced until after the Tulyan Elders decided on the allocation of the vessels.

Finally, having rushed around tending to numerous important matters involving his task force, Noah sent an aide to summon Subi Danvar for a brief, final meeting. While waiting, Noah settled into a deep-cushion chair in his onboard office. Subi would arrive any moment, so Noah closed his eyes, just for a few seconds.

As he sank into the fleshy podship cushion, Noah sighed, and a deep sense of calm came over him. Minutes passed, only a few, and he felt himself sinking into the most restful state of relaxation he could imagine.

Subi seemed to be taking a long time to arrive. Not wanting to fall asleep, Noah decided to open his eyes. As he did so, however, he experienced a sensation like opening an unusual circular door, one that irised open with shocking suddenness. Abruptly, he felt himself catapulted through an amorphous opening, and he hurtled and spun out into the starry, eternal night of space.

He was back in Timeweb, via a slightly different entry point.

A rush of excitement passed through Noah, tempered by the realization that he could not remain there long, that he needed to go back and get his podship fleet underway. But at the same time, he couldn’t pass up this opportunity either.…