Webdancers (28 page)

Jimu and Zigzia led him into one of the original school sections that had been converted into a gambling hall. Now it didn’t look like either, with overturned, smashed equipment and gaming pieces piled against the walls. “This way, please,” the webtalker said, pointing out an improvised divider wall at the center. Entering the hall, Noah found four other Tulyans, seated at a large table.

“Master Watanabe,” one of the Tulyans said, rising with his companions and bowing. It was Inya Vato, head of the reconnaissance team. “Please, take a seat.” He gestured toward the head of the table.

When Noah sat down, the others slipped back into their places along the sides. Jimu and Zigzia stood, looking on.

“Our first assumptions proved to be correct,” Vato said. “This space station fell through a timehole into another galaxy. Then, somehow, it was knocked back into this one. On the modular hulls and other parts, there are spectral traces of alien materials, not found anywhere in this galaxy. Telltale signs that it has been someplace else.”

“Is that why the hulls glow faintly green now?” Noah asked.

“No,” one of the other Tulyans said, a bulky male with wide, slitted eyes. “We treated the space station to make it less susceptible to timeholes, in case any more appear. A film that acts as a repellent.”

“Is it like the healing dust I’ve seen caretakers use?” Noah asked.

“It has some similar properties. This is a liquid variation that adheres to the hull.”

While listening to the Tulyans, Noah went to one of the magnaviewers by the window, a double-mirror unit that bathed him in light when he looked through it. First he located his own space-moored podships, six in all, including three that had arrived earlier with the reconnaissance and repair teams. Then, focusing on the surface of the planet Yaree, Noah saw what looked like a Yareen military base on the ground, and considerable activity there. Black military shuttles and other small aircraft taxied on an airfield and took off, one after the other.

Suddenly, orbital space filled with orange-and-gray warships, closing in on EcoStation. Noah pushed Zigzia out of the way, and opened a link to the six Liberator podships that were moored a short distance away.

“Mayday!” Noah shouted.

His podships were already in motion, with five of them going into a defensive formation. In a prearranged maneuver, the sixth sped away and split space in a burst of green light.

“We sent for reinforcements!” an officer shouted over the line.

“Zigzia,” Noah said, looking at the Tulyan. “Can you transmit an emergency message to the Tulyan Elders?”

“I can try, but the web isn’t in great condition between here and the starcloud, so I’ll have to use alternate transmission routes.” She thumped heavily out into the corridor. Noah wasn’t sure where she would attempt to make the contact, but knew that Tulyans could see the web where others couldn’t.

Noah’s remaining podships had their space cannons pointed toward the advancing warships, and fired. The HibAdu vessels were all conventional craft, but bristling with weapons. So far he didn’t see any of their lab-pods, but suspected they were nearby.

Some of the advancing HibAdu ships burst into flames, but others changed course quickly and sped toward the Liberator vessels at new angles. One of the defending podships exploded, and the four others drew back toward the space station in a last-ditch shielding effort.

But Noah had a sinking, hopeless feeling. He was badly outnumbered, and reinforcements could not possibly arrive in time.…

Chapter Fifty-Five

Everything in this galaxy is linked to everything else.

Nothing is really detached, no matter how much it seems to be.

—Textbook introduction, School of Galactic Ecology

Unknown to Noah, the podship that escaped the HibAdu attack was among the oldest and most experienced of the spacefaring Aopoddae. In ancient times the vessel had been known as Diminian, and it had been present in the earliest days of the galaxy. Even then, from the outset, there had been problems with the webbing infrastructure—and those conditions bore ominous parallels with those of modern times. The galaxy had been fresh and new in the beginning, but with podship travel and other conditions the infrastructure became worn and frayed rather quickly in many places … in the equivalent of only a few thousand years. This was one of the reasons that the first Tulyan caretakers had been dispatched to perform repairs, and afterward for regular maintenance duties.

With seasoning, the webbing actually became stronger and more able to withstand podship travel and other cosmic conditions, but there were always weak points that appeared from time to time, requiring the attention of the expert caretakers. Many of those weak points proved to be chronic, and had been among the most difficult to keep in good repair during the current crisis of galactic decay. With his long and perfect memory Diminian knew all of this, and knew better than any podship how to take alternate routes. Though he did not communicate in words, he had other means of sensing the emergency of the HibAdu attack on the space station. Thus the return flight to Siriki, which Noah had expected to take an hour or more, required only four minutes.

The Tulyan pilot, with his own means of communicating with both Aopoddae and Humans, delivered the mayday call to Noah’s command headquarters, where Liberator officers sprang into action. When Diminian’s ship arrived, Subi Danvar was in orbital space near Siriki, commanding a military exercise involving eight hundred podships and the Mutati warships that had been sent from Canopa. For the maneuvers, Acey and Dux were acting as Subi’s personal aides on the primary vessel.

Over a comlink, Subi informed all pilots and officers of the new mission, along with the astronomical coordinates of Yaree and the orbital position of EcoStation. Then he put the just-returned Tulyan pilot on the connection, to provide details for the other pilots on the alternate, but faster, route they needed to take.

When the Tulyan finished giving the information, Subi shouted, “Let’s go!” Moments later, he led the armed podships out into space, leaving the Mutati warships and the bulk of the podship fleet behind.

Even with Noah under attack, they could not risk sending more of their military assets to Yaree. Subi and the other officers were under standing orders to maintain a strong defensive position at Siriki, and not to be drawn away. They did not want to repeat what happened to the Mutati planet of Dij and lose another important world.

Back at Siriki, other officers sent Diminian and his Tulyan pilot to relay the new information to Doge Anton del Velli in the Canopa sector. They also sent a number of additional podships to Yaree, to act as couriers from the battle zone.

* * * * *

Only minutes after the attack on EcoStation, all Liberator forces in the galaxy went onto full alert. At Canopa, Doge Anton received the mayday call. With additional information on favored routes provided by the Tulyan pilot (from his esoteric connection with Diminian), Anton dispatched an additional one thousand podships.

Leaving General Nirella behind with the bulk of the fleet, the young doge led the second rescue force to Yaree. Some of his officers had questioned his decision to go himself, saying he should delegate it to one of them. But Nirella, outranking all of them, had silenced their comments. “Noah is Anton’s uncle, and there has always been a strong bond between them.” Smiling stiffly, she had added, “Besides, I’m the better military commander in this marriage. From a strategic standpoint, it’s essential that I remain with the bulk of the fleet.”

“We’ve already talked it out,” Anton had said, “and I’m on my way.”

In the flagship
Webdancer
, Anton now stood on the command bridge, at the forward viewing window. Beside him, the venerable robot Thinker folded open with a small clattering and clicking of metal. Anton was anxious to help Noah, and for this mission he needed the most brilliant of all sentient machines. He also needed the best pilots, and for the flagship that meant Tesh Kori.

As they sped through space, Thinker said, “I know you want to add my military recommendations to those of your officers, but I need to assess the battle before adding anything to what they told you. I agree with them that we must move quickly to protect the space station, since Noah was last reported aboard it. But conditions will undoubtedly be fluid on the battlefield, and he may have moved.”

“Assuming he’s OK. Noah once told me his ‘immortality’ might be as fragile as the galactic webbing, or might have been compromised by the tainted blood he got from his sister.”

“Our Liberator force from Siriki may already be there.”

“I hope they are,” Anton said.

“As do I. There is something more. A number of the ships and fighters we have with us now were brought back to Canopa by Hari’Adab, after the loss of Dij. We have Mutati officers and soldiers among us.”

“You’re not concerned about their loyalty, are you?”

“No, sir. But for the first time in history, Mutati forces are going into battle under Human command.”

“That is hardly at the top of my mind,” Anton said.

“Nor of mine,” Thinker admitted. He whirred for a moment. Then: “My internal programming informs me that I was just making nervous conversation. Like you, I am very worried about Master Noah.”

* * * * *

At the Tulyan Starcloud, the Council of Elders received the emergency web transmission from Zigzia. They immediately sought out Eshaz, who was restocking his ships with supplies and assigning fresh caretaking crews for yet another mission.

With a small entourage, Elder Kre’n and Dabiggio rode a space platform through the mists that floated around their fabled planets. In one of the protected moorage basins they found Eshaz’s fleet of vessels. All five hundred ships had returned safely, with no reports of HibAdu encounters. But that was about to change.

They docked the platform at a ship that bore no Tulyan face on its prow, but which was known to be the vessel operated personally by Eshaz. Moments later, Eshaz appeared at the main entrance hatch, and then boarded the glax-domed platform.

“We have urgent news from Zigzia,” Kre’n said. “She is with Noah Watanabe at Yaree, where they are under attack by HibAdu forces. Zigzia said a courier flew to Siriki for reinforcements, but she didn’t know when they might arrive.”

“We must mount our own military force then,” Eshaz said. “How many armed podships can you round up?”

“The fifty with you, and three hundred more,” Dabiggio said.

Eshaz formed a scowl on his reptilian face. “Hardly an overwhelming force.”

“No,” the towering Elder said, “but we can make the force look much larger if we also send the nine thousand caretaker podships we have here, along with the armed podships—everything we have here. They don’t contribute much to our starcloud defenses anyway.” He looked at Kre’n, awaiting her comment.

“Do it,” she commanded. “Our mindlink protects the starcloud.”

“And my orders?” Eshaz asked.

“You are in command,” Kre’n said.

It all happened quickly. Every podship went out, even if they had only Tulyan pilots aboard, and no passengers or armaments.

As they accelerated onto the podways of deep space, Eshaz and the Tulyan pilots behind him reported feeling bursts of speed unlike any they had ever experienced before. The podships took their own course to Yaree, reaching tachyon speeds but not traveling in anything close to a straight line.

The mysterious Aopoddae seemed to know in advance which sections of podway were in the best condition.…

Chapter Fifty-Six

There is a Tulyan prophecy of the Sublime Creator and the Savior, the bipartite entity who can see the past, present, and future of Timeweb. It is said that he will appear one day from the most unlikely of sources, and will determine the course of the universe.

—MPA report on Tulyan motivations and religion

For Subi Danvar, this was unlike any of the military maneuvers he and the other officers had practiced. And for him personally, far more was at stake.

Like fireworks in the air, his eight hundred podships arrived near Yaree in successive bursts of bright green light. Not waiting for even the few minutes that would have been required for all of them to arrive, Subi instead rushed forward with only a handful of support vessels behind him. He saw the space station in orbital space, and near it HibAdu warships battling a defensive force of Liberator podships and smaller craft that had come out of the cargo holds. Though there were hundreds of HibAdu ships attacking, all of them were small, short-range gun ships, not lab-pods. The defenders were tenacious, causing problems for the attackers.

It gave the adjutant a feeling of relief to see EcoStation still there, though it was not in good shape. Just then, he saw one of the lower modules explode, a ball of orange that quickly dissipated in the airless vacuum. From his security experience on EcoStation, he knew that each module had oxygen cutoff systems, lessening the impact of a problem in one area on the rest of the orbiter. From the brightness of the explosion, he judged that there had been quite a bit of oxygen in that particular module. He hoped Noah was not inside.

As Subi’s podship entered the fray with its space cannons blasting, he remembered Noah’s supposed immortality. For the loyal adjutant, that did not lessen his concerns. Mirroring Noah’s own feelings, Subi doubted if the condition could possibly be absolute, so he was always on the alert for gaps in it, so that he could better protect the Master.

Subi scattered the lead ships in the approaching HibAdu squadron by flying toward them and then veering off at the last moment, while his crew fired space cannons and automatic weapons at them. To keep his lead podship flying the way he wanted, Subi gave orders to a Tulyan with him, who in turn relayed them telepathically to the Tulyan pilot. The responses were almost instantaneous.

Two of Subi’s shots struck their mark. Then more gun ships exploded as the rest of his podships and smaller fighter craft from the cargo holds joined the battle. But to his dismay he saw more enemy ships advancing, as if from a limitless source of them.

In the distance, from the direction where the enemy was advancing, he saw green flashes in space, and from markings on the vessels he confirmed that they were enemy lab-pods. His heart sank. The HibAdu ships near the space station were only an advance force. They had used just enough firepower to alarm the Liberators, and to lure more of them in.

It was too late for Subi to worry about things like that. He heard his own podship squeal as it was hit. But the sentient spacecraft recovered, and kept responding to Subi’s relayed commands. For the moment, he cleared an area around the space station, where he positioned fifty of his own armed podships, all with the faces of their Tulyan pilots on the prows. Then Subi sent the rest of his force smashing through the enemy gun ships and some of the newly arrived, larger battleships. He blasted them out of the way, heading toward the more powerful and dangerous lab-pod mother ships in the distance.

But near those vessels he saw many more flashes of green, bright flowers in space. They were not his own podships arriving, because those had already been engaged in the battle. In a matter of seconds, he received confirmation that they were Liberator vessels. To his delight he saw the newly arrived ships surge into battle against the lab-pods and begin to drive them back, even as the HibAdus were trying to disgorge more gun ships and larger warships from the holds.

Adjusting the comlink channel to connect with a portable unit that Noah carried, Subi said, “Noah, you there? Are you all right?” In the distance, he saw the space station, with the armed warships Subi had left to protect it. No activity there. But over the comlink, he heard only static in response.

Looking back at the battle scene, he saw the smaller HibAdu craft retreating in disarray, but not making it back to the mother ships, because they were being blasted out of space. Over other communication channels, he heard the excited chatter of his officers and voices of others from additional podships that Doge Anton had dispatched. How many vessels, Subi didn’t know, but the combined Liberator force was proving superior, because it chased the HibAdus and made kill after kill. He hoped this was not a trick, designed to lure forces away from Canopa and Siriki.

Over the connections, he heard Doge Anton himself, and the mechanical voice of Thinker, whose brilliant machine intellect was being committed to this important battle. It gave Subi some reassurance that the best minds were being employed for the Liberator strategies. He also heard them say that thousands of caretaker podships had arrived from the Tulyan Starcloud, vessels that were mostly unarmed, and which Anton had kept away from the center of battle. Eshaz and other Tulyan web technicians were among the new arrivals.

But Subi had another priority, the reason he came here in the first place.

“Prepare to board EcoStation,” he announced. “I will dock and go aboard with my soldiers, and I want the twenty closest ships to me to dock, too. We need to search every area of the orbiter to find Master Noah. There are uncertain atmospheric conditions on board, so wear survival suits.”

* * * * *

In the midst of the HibAdu fleet, Ipsy remained concealed inside a weapon-control box that had been installed in one of the new lab-pods. He heard the chatter of Hibbil and Adurian officers on the command bridge, and knew that this vessel and others had turned around and fled into space when the battle appeared lost.

This cheered him somewhat, but he would have felt much better if his ship had been in the middle of combat, and the officers had tried to use the weapons activated by this panel.

Even so, he was not without options. When installing the panel on the bridge, the technicians had removed the screws on the back side of the unit, intending to lift off the cover, which was necessary in order to make the electrical connections. With no way to hide from the workers, Ipsy had prepared for the worst.

But the little robot got an important break. Before lifting off the cover, the technicians took a break and left the bridge. Cautiously, Ipsy then pushed the cover aside and peeked out. No one was on the bridge at all, and the ship was not in operation. He transmitted signals, verified that no alarm or videocam system was in operation.

The robot climbed out of the panel box, and replaced the cover. Then he concealed himself in a dead air space behind the main instrument console. A short while later the technicians returned and completed their work.

The following day a pilot and crew took the lab-pod into space and tested the powerful energy cannons. They fired perfectly, and the vessel was brought back in. From his place of concealment, Ipsy heard an officer say something interesting, while they were shutting down the systems. This was not merely an ordinary vessel. Because of damage to the flagship of the HibAdu fleet, this ship was replacing it. The vessel would be under the direct command of the High Ruler.

For the little robot, the stakes were increasing quickly. He had waited for a long time for this opportunity, and didn’t want to blow it. Alone during the night, he inspected the main instrument panel, and quietly removed panels and covers to examine the interior layouts of computer boards, circuits, and other components. He didn’t need to actually operate the systems to understand how they worked. Just looking at the inner workings and control surfaces was enough for him.

Carefully, he made adjustments to the weapon control box, hidden settings that no one would notice. If the HibAdus performed any additional tests, the weapons would fire. But something entirely different would occur if Ipsy transmitted an electronic signal into the box.…

* * * * *

With the enemy ships routed or destroyed, Tesh received the command for
Webdancer
to approach the space station. From the glowing green sectoid chamber, she guided the sentient vessel in that direction, gazing into near-space through her link with the multiple eyes on the hull.

But something unusual was happening. Unarmed caretaker ships were swooping past her and gathering closely around EcoStation, so many vessels that she could hardly see the orbiter itself. Just before that, Subi Danvar had sent a comlink message that he was docking with twenty other ships, but many more were massing around the space station now. Something seemed terribly wrong.

Over the connection with Doge Anton, Tesh heard his own concerns, and those of Thinker, as they sent comlink messages to the officers on the ships. The replies, which she did not hear directly, must not have helped, because Anton contacted her, through a Tulyan with him.

“Tesh,” Anton relayed, “Do you know what’s going on there?”

“No, sir,” she replied.

Ahead, she saw more podships packing themselves around the space station, and now she could no longer see the orbiter at all, just the irregular shape of it. The podships seemed to flow together and become one, like a mottled, gray-and-black cocoon.

Anton ordered
Webdancer
to veer away from the station. But when Tesh followed the command, she felt a tugging coming from the direction of the strange cocoon, as if the massed podships were drawing her vessel toward them. A surge of fear enveloped her, but she was able to guide
Webdancer
away.

In space several kilometers away, Doge Anton gathered the bulk of his podship force. There, Tesh did not feel the magnetic pull of the cocoon.

At a new command center for his own moored ships, Doge Anton and his closest advisers tried to assess the unusual situation. Tesh was asked to leave the sectoid chamber and join them in the main conference room of the flagship, along with Eshaz. No one sat. Instead, everyone stood anxiously near the windows, looking back at the space station, which was shifting into an amorphous shape, like a giant alien shapeshifter. Anton’s aides, Acey Zelk and Dux Hannah stood near him.

“At least three hundred ships are in that cocoon,” the Doge said. “We need to find out what’s happening, but I didn’t want to rush forward, endangering more of the fleet.”

“Subi Danvar is in there,” one of the officers said. “Noah’s right-hand man.”

“I’m worried about a HibAdu trick,” Anton said.

“It could be that,” Thinker said, “but my projections do not indicate they are capable of controlling podships in that manner. Obviously, the Aopoddae in the cocoon are linked mentally and physically, but for what purpose I cannot determine. One sign of hope: they are all caretaker Aopoddae, except for the ones Subi took in.”

Wrinkling his scaly brow, Eshaz said, “I’ve heard of them forming into cocoons in ancient days, but long before I was born. The reasons were varied.”

“And you were born almost a million years ago,” Tesh said, trying to envision how long that was. While speaking, she watched the cocoon in the distance. At first, she thought it had stopped morphing, then she wasn’t so sure. She thought she saw it move slightly.

“In the earliest days,” Eshaz said, “before my time, there were many unique dangers in space. For various reasons, to face different perils, the podships would form themselves into larger units—such as what you see here.”

“Could the cocoon be protecting something?” Doge Anton asked. “Could Noah be inside?”

“I’m hoping that’s the case,” Eshaz said. “Protecting important individuals and groups was one of the purposes of conglomerating, but by no means the only one.”

“We need to send an exploratory party,” Anton said.

“But any ship we send could just find itself merged into the others,” Tesh said. She spoke of the tugging sensation she had felt through
Webdancer
, and listened while other officers said they had received reports of the same thing.

“Something similar happened to us,” Eshaz then said. “In the thousands of ships I brought from the starcloud, my pilots all reported sensations of increased speed on the way, as if an unexpected, sustained wind had sped us to our destination. When we drew within visual range of the space station, we all felt a pull too, as you others have described. It was like magnetism, drawing us toward it. We kept away from the station, as Doge Anton commanded.”

“There seems to be an Aopoddae telepathic link that goes beyond the cocooned podships,” Anton said. “Far out into space.”

“I would like to accompany the exploration team,” Thinker said. “I am only a machine, so death is not a consideration.”

“You’re not just an ordinary machine,” Anton said. “But I do have multiple backup copies of your computer program, so we could rebuild you if necessary. All right. You’ll lead the investigating squad.”

The Doge then looked around, and spoke to one of the officers, a Kajor named J.B. Alcazar, “You coordinate it,” he said. “But no Humans go on the mission. Or Mutatis. I want you to use robots.”

“We machines could take that as an insult,” Thinker said, “but in this special instance we won’t. That’s why I volunteered. For Noah.”

“Don’t send another podship in, either,” Anton said. “Instead, use a shuttle.”

“Can we go?” Dux asked.

“You heard me,” the Doge said. “Robots only.” His tone offered no discussion.

“An armed shuttle?” Alcazar asked.

“I don’t see where firepower would do any good in this situation,” Anton said.

“I strongly suggest an unarmed shuttle,” Eshaz said, “and remove any smaller weapons that might be onboard. Deactivate all robotic weapons systems, too. You don’t want the podships to perceive any threat at all. In their cocoon state, they’re on high alert. The smallest thing could trigger a violent reaction. You’ve heard how individual podships react to forced entry, crushing intruders. It could be like that with the cocoon, but on a much larger scale.”