The Web and the Stars (20 page)

Chapter Forty-Three

A thought can be the most beautiful thing in all of existence … Or the most malignant.

—Fragment from the teachings of Lost Earth

Even though Francella’s Corp One headquarters building no longer existed, Doge Lorenzo was still obligated to make ten years of exorbitant lease payments to her. The same held true for the opulent cliffside villa that he had vacated. Both properties were part of the same ironclad contract, drawn up by her attentive lawyers. The merchant prince leader had hardly bothered to look before signing, bless his foolish heart. Francella so loved to manipulate him.

Now as she supervised the movement of her furnishings back into the villa, Francella glanced in a mirror that two men had just hung in the parlor. Moving close to the glax she looked at her forehead above the shaved eyebrows, and at the skin beneath her eyes. She thought her face was smoother than before, that faint lines had vanished, and she looked younger than her thirty-eight years.

Excitement infused her. The injection of Noah’s blood was beginning to take effect! She felt exuberant.

With a new quickness in her step, Francella took a break and wandered along the loggia, past the open-air gallery of imperial statues. Across the Valley of the Princes, she saw Rainbow City clinging to the sheer walls of an iridescent cliff, with midday sunlight glinting off the jewel-like buildings.

At the end of the loggia, she entered a large room that had once been piled high with her father’s most special treasures, and which now stood empty. She remembered going there as a child and admiring the priceless jewels and artworks, which the tycoon had collected during a lifetime of travels around the galaxy. Thinking back as she strolled around the empty room, she noted scratches on the marble floor and the walls that needed to be repaired.

But just for a moment, as if she were a small girl again, she plopped herself on the floor in one corner, on the exact spot where she used to sit. The plush handmade carpet was gone now and the floor was very hard, but she felt calmer with each passing moment.

Francella was about to get up when she noticed something on the wall. A display case had been there for years, and now, just above floor level she saw a vertical line on the wall, perhaps a third of a centimeter in height. Dropping to her knees, she examined it.

When she touched the wall it sprang outward, revealing a compartment beyond.

Her heart raced. Could a treasure be inside? She thought she had placed all of the valuables in safekeeping before the Doge moved in, but what if her father had hidden something here, perhaps the most precious of his possessions?

Reaching inside, she thought at first that the hiding place was empty. Then her fingers tightened around a small, hard object, the shape of a coin. Bringing it out into the light, she saw that it was not that at all, but was instead an old-style computer disk, the retro-though-dependable type her father had preferred to use.

She might have held this very one in her hand, years ago. Once, as a four-year old, she’d seen a pile of them on a table and had placed them in a pocket of her dress, thinking they were coins and she could buy candy with them. Finding the disks in her pocket, a maid had scolded her and put them back without ever telling her father.

Francella sighed. In many ways she missed the innocence of her childhood, before the desolate realities of life began to embitter her. In her own way, she had always loved her family, and even Noah, despite the enmity they held for one another. She had also loved their father, the old prince, dearly, but had found it necessary to get rid of him and blame the death on her brother. Under different circumstances, if she had only been treated as an equal with Noah—without all the favoritism that Prince Saito showed toward him—things might have been entirely different.

I am not a monster,
she thought. /
only do what I have to do.

But she would not let sadness intrude on her fine mood. This computer disk could be something valuable. Francella took it into her study, where a technician was setting her equipment up.

“Can you read what’s on this disk?” she asked.

He whistled. “That’s an oldie. Should be able to, though. I’ve got a converter in my bag.” He set up the converter, then made several equipment adjustments and tossed the disk into a hopper. Seconds later a copy—one of the modern data shards embedded in a clearplax ball—rattled out into a tray, along with the old disk. He handed both of them to her.

In privacy, Francella activated a palm-sized computer, and watched the holo screen appear in front of her eyes. The writing on the screen had been encrypted, but she ran through the codes her father used and saw the words shift into Galeng. This was Prince Saito’s electronic journal. Feeling a rush of excitement she scrolled and found references to herself and to Noah, with the old man wishing the two of them would stop quarreling.

Then she caught her breath.

“The love of my life is Princess Meghina,” he wrote. “But she is secretly a Mutati who cannot shapeshift back. She is more Human than anyone I know, more filled with love and loyalty and compassion and a passion for life. I love her dearly, and can never turn her in. This is a secret I shall carry to my grave.”

But the harlot is Lorenzo’s wife,
Francella thought.
He must know, too.

Reading on, she discovered otherwise. “I am the only Human who knows this explosive secret. So skillful is her deception that the Doge has no idea of her true identity. Nor can he ever know. I am confident that history will sort this matter out for the best, but to protect Meghina during her lifetime I have taken steps to prevent release of the information for many years, until long after the participants in this little drama are gone.”

* * * * *

Ecstatic, Francella saw an opportunity to accomplish two important goals at once.

Formulating her plan more that afternoon, she began to think about how best to spread rumors—through channels to protect her own identity—about Princess Meghina’s scandalous secret. Along with that bombshell, she would add a twist of her own, the assertion that Doge Lorenzo had known about it all along.

When released—it would take a little time to get everything set up—the story and all of its related suspicions would spread like fire on dry grass. Had the Royal Consort avoided medical examinations, or had her records been falsified? Who was covering up for her, the Doge Lorenzo himself?

Yes, the puzzle pieces would fit together nicely, enabling Francella to get rid of that loathsome woman once and for all. And eliminate the Doge at the same time, thus advancing the cause of her allies, the noble-born princes who wanted to bring Lorenzo down and replace him with a leader sympathetic to their cause.

My son Anton would fill the bill nicely,
she thought as she dispatched three messengers from her study.

But Francella knew this was just wishful thinking. Anton hated her so much that he would hardly speak to her. And she knew very little about his politics … except his affinity for her despicable brother, and his refusal to reveal the location of Guardian headquarters. Such a disingenuous story Anton was telling, that he’d been experiencing memory gaps.

She sighed with resignation, knowing that she could not force all of the puzzle pieces into place. At least she had recognized an opportunity and was about to jump on it. Not a bad day’s work, after all.

Chapter Forty-Four

We all gamble anyway, with every breath we take. Why not make it fun?

—Plaque signed by Lorenzo del Velli, entrance to The Pleasure Palace

With money from investors and his own sources, Lorenzo completed construction work on The Pleasure Palace in a matter of weeks, along with his connected offices and living quarters. The high class casino-resort had luxury apartments for wealthy customers, which he offered at reasonable rates in order to entice them to the gambling tables. Even in these uncertain times, gamblers flocked there, primarily the nobility and business leaders of Canopa, but also a number of wealthy travelers who had been stranded on the planet when podship travel ceased.

Each night Lorenzo played the perfect celebrity host for his well-dressed guests, and was often seen in the company of his elegant and mysterious courtesan-wife, the Princess Meghina. Liras poured in, so much wealth that he quickly had to enlarge a high-security vault wing on the orbiter.

The space station became a most unusual royal residence for the Doge, an orbital wonderland where he could indulge his taste for high living and make a great deal of money in the bargain. To an extent he was pleased with the new setup, but military and political concerns continued to occupy much of his time. Every day before going to the casino, he met with his attaché Pimyt. In particular, they prepared important nehrcom transmissions to every planet in the Merchant Prince Alliance, making certain the defensive positions remained in place on every pod station, and that military forces were as strong and alert as possible.

* * * * *

All orders of this type went from Lorenzo to Pimyt, who in turn was supposed to either transmit them himself at the nehrcom station on Canopa or convey them to General Jacopo Nehr.

As before, the devious Hibbil underhandedly modified some of the messages, causing merchant prince military installations to move or actually
reduce
strength … adjustments that were accomplished subtly and almost imperceptibly, a little at a time.

His inside knowledge of the location of Human military forces and their strength was a huge espionage coup for the Hibbils and their secret Adurian allies.

* * * * *

As far as Lorenzo knew, his orders were being taken care of properly, but he couldn’t stop worrying. There were still no podships connecting the planets of his Merchant Prince Alliance—or those of the enemy Mutati Kingdom. It was as if the Human and Mutati worlds had been separated from the galaxy and discarded, like rotten apples from a barrel.

Chapter Forty-Five

Tell me what you actually see in me, and not what my detractors tell you to see.

—Princess Meghina, private note to Doge Lorenzo

Lorenzo didn’t like the way Pimyt looked when he entered the royal bathing room, as if he didn’t care enough, or as if it was a matter that was completely out of his hands. How could the little Hibbil act so detached when Lorenzo’s world was crashing around him? Wasn’t it bad enough that he’d had to relocate to the orbiter? And now this? The rumor had hit Lorenzo like a Mutati torpedo, burrowing in and detonating inside his brain.

“It’s a monstrous lie!” the Doge thundered. Rising naked from an immense bathing pool, he grabbed a robe from one of the two female attendants who had been washing him.

“Undoubtedly you are right,” Pimyt said. “But we must act quickly to dispel the story before it gains too much traction. Already it is inflaming the populace, causing them to ask questions. They want your response.”

“The people are demanding that I address them? How absurd. I speak to them whenever I wish, if it pleases me.” He glared at the attendants, and they hurried away.

“I understand that, of course.” The Hibbil’s red eyes seemed to brighten, like embers that had been fanned. “Is that your response, then, My Doge?”

“Don’t be an idiot! Obviously, this is an unusual situation, requiring emergency action. Prepare my shuttle immediately, and my escort of Red Berets.”

The little alien bowed, but maintained his irritatingly detached demeanor. “It will be done.”

* * * * *

A short while later the shuttle landed, and the Doge’s elite special police whisked him into a gleaming black groundjet for the ride to Rainbow City, perched on a cliff top. Lorenzo fumed all the way.

When the groundjet finally came to a stop in front of a large building with white pillars, he didn’t wait for attendants to let him out of the vehicle. While his security forces scrambled to keep up, he marched into the ornate lobby and across it to the high-speed ascensore for the ride to the top floor, the fifty-seventh. He told the guards and Pimyt to remain in the lobby.

Princess Meghina called these her “royal apartments,” but in reality she had converted an upscale apartment building into a palace. As the Doge stepped out of the ascensore, he hardly noticed the expensive statuary and artwork in the entrance hall, most of which he had paid for himself.

“I’ve been expecting you,” Meghina said, bowing to him as he marched toward her. Barefooted, she looked tired and bleary-eyed, as if she had been crying. Her long blond hair hung haphazardly about her shoulders, and her saffron daygown was wrinkled.

“Is it true?” he shouted, standing right in front of her and staring up into her face. Even without shoes, she was slightly taller than he was. He hardly needed to ask the question. He saw the answer in her expression. A mask of sadness.

“All I can say is it’s not what you think. Yes, I was born a Mutati, but I always hated my own people. I always wanted to be Human. I am
not
a spy!”

Stunned, he could not think of anything to say.

“In my youth I studied Humans and longed to be one of them,” she said tearfully. “My Mutati peers criticized me for that, but I stood up to them, and took a huge risk by intentionally remaining in Human form so long that I could not change back.”

“And our daughters?”

“I falsified my pregnancies, all seven of them … even had the genetic records altered. The girls are not related to either of us.”

Raising a hand to strike her, he hesitated. “I could kill you for this!” he thundered.

“I almost wish you would,” she said. “I have done you wrong. But please believe me, I did not intend to hurt you.”

“Oh, you didn’t intend to hurt me! Well, that makes it all right then, doesn’t it?” He lowered his hand. “You are to remain here under house arrest,” he commanded, “until I decide what to do with you.”

“Yes, of course.” Her voice became very small.

As he left, Lorenzo didn’t care about any of her excuses. He was only concerned about damage control because of the immense political harm that had just been done to him.

On the lobby floor, he pushed past his guards. Not seeing Pimyt at first, he knocked the smaller Hibbil down, then stepped on his arm and continued on his way.

Sirens blaring and horns honking, the merchant prince leader and his military escort sped through the streets of Rainbow City. Presently his black groundjet stopped at the security gate of the CorpOne medical complex, and then proceeded toward the large central building.

Having already bypassed security, a small squadron of Guardians—men and robots—stood on a rooftop inside the complex. Other Guardians were in position a short distance outside, waiting for the moment to rush in.

Moments before, Thinker had folded himself shut, saying he had to consider something important. Now Subi and the others waited beside him, looking nervously in all directions. In a bold daylight raid, they had been preparing to move against the central medical laboratory on the other side of the street, where Francella Watanabe had recently been observed by Giovanni Nehr. They had also brought a new weapon with them, for just this purpose.

But at the eleventh hour Thinker had something more to work out.

Just then, Subi saw a black groundjet and other vehicles pull up at the main entrance to the big laboratory building. Somebody important. He wondered if it could be the Doge Lorenzo himself. Nervously, Subi glanced at Thinker.

Still no movement from the robot.…

Back in their underground headquarters the day before, after Thinker and Subi had studied Gio’s reconnaissance report, the robot had thought it might be possible to capture Francella and destroy the medical facility.

“She would be a valuable hostage,” Thinker had said as they stood in Subi’s unadorned office. “So I came up with a little gadget to help out.”

On his torso screen, the robot had then shown Subi schematics of what he called an “isolation weapon,” which would destroy buildings while providing protective cocoons for people, so that no Human casualties resulted from their attacks. “I came up with it after our strike against the CorpOne headquarters building, when we had to wait for the structure to be evacuated.”

“That was a major building collapse,” Subi had said. “You mean people could actually survive that?”

“Absolutely. This new weapon would scatter protective cocoons moments ahead of the destructive explosives, thus protecting everyone.”

“But wouldn’t rescue parties have to still dig people out of the rubble?”

“No. The cocoons have mechanisms that will cause them to rise above the explosion, and then float down without harm on the nearest spots away from the rubble.”

“You’re sure this will work?”

“Fully tested. Everyone will be perfectly safe.… We can use it to go after Noah’s sister,” Thinker had said.

“And if Noah is inside, and still alive.…”

“He will be absolutely safe. I have worked this out with great precision, and the weapons are already constructed. I must inform you, however, that your concerns about his welfare are probably too late. He is very likely dead, wherever he is.”

“I know,” Subi had said. Rage had infused him with a desire to capture Francella, and he added, “OK. We go tomorrow. Let’s start getting ready. This won’t just be about getting even with her. It will be about weakening our enemies, cutting off the head of the monster.”

“Mmmm. Francella cut Noah, so we cut her out of her own protective cocoon, separating her from the forces that surround her.…”

On the rooftop Thinker suddenly opened and said, “I just corrected an inspection malfunction. The isolation weapon’s design was thoroughly tested, but there is a manufacturing defect in this particular unit that needs to be corrected. Otherwise, we will kill everyone in the building.”

“What?”

“We must return to headquarters and fix it.”

Just then, one of the Guardians nudged Subi. Looking to his left, the adjutant saw two men on top of an adjacent building, stepping out of a stairwell onto the roof. “They saw us,” the Guardian said.

Subi and his companions ran. In less than a minute, leaping down stairs, the squadron reached the alley where they had left two commandeered CorpOne vans. Thinker showed remarkable agility in keeping up. As they tumbled aboard the vehicles, shots rang out, and Subi saw uniformed CorpOne security officers running toward them.

The vans accelerated and barreled down the alley in the opposite direction. A blast hit the back of the second van, tearing into the torso of Thinker, who had bravely placed his metal body there in order to protect the other passengers. Subi narrowly missed being hit.

“Thinker!” Subi shouted, as the vans barreled through the entrance gate, then turned onto a main arterial and accelerated. Behind them, other Guardian forces—looking like ordinary Canopans and robots—moved into various positions to block pursuit.

Inside a robot-assembly area of Guardian headquarters, robotic workers worked feverishly to reactivate Thinker’s central processing box, an armored core that contained the Al-brain and its micro-control systems.

In a matter of hours Thinker was rebuilt, and soon he was better than ever, with none of the scratches or dents he’d had previously. The first time he folded open, a crowd of Guardians stood watching, including Subi and Gio.

With a broad smile on his flat metal face, Thinker said, “Did anyone miss me?”

He tinkered with the screen on his own chest, causing an image of Noah Watanabe to appear, as before. Everyone clapped and cheered, and gathered around to welcome the robot back.

Then, under Thinker’s direction, he had robots make dents and scratches on his rebuilt body, roughly matching those he’d had before. “I don’t want to look like a green lieutenant,” he said.