The Web and the Stars

by Brian Herbert

  The officer flicked something off his own lapel. “You made the intelligent decision, Sire. If you hadn’t moved quickly during the crisis, I daresay we would not be having this conversation at all.”

  “Most insightful of you to say that, Captain Uki.”

  “With your permission, Sire,” Uki said, bowing, “I’d like to be excused, to order the investigation you desire.”

  Doge Lorenzo nodded.

  After Uki left, Pimyt said, “He’s too smooth to be an officer. I don’t trust the man, so I’ve arranged to replace him. In my customary fashion.”

  “Kill him, then. But wait until he completes the assignment.”

  The Royal Attache smiled, and thought back. It was not the first time Lorenzo had authorized him to get rid of someone, particularly the sniveling sycophants who were drawn to the Doge like iron particles to a magnet. At times like this, whenever he felt respect for the merchant prince leader, Pimyt almost regretted what was about to happen.

  Soon, he and his allies would make their move, and it would reverberate across the galaxy.…

  Chapter Four

  Nothing is ever as it seems. For each apparent answer there is always another more significant one. This is true at every level of observation and interpretation. Thus, the final answer to any question is never attainable … perhaps not even by the Sublime Creator.

  —Tulyan Wisdom

  For weeks, Acey and Dux had stayed in the Tulyan Visitor’s Center. The globular, posh orbiter wasn’t a spacetel as they had initially thought, since the Tulyans apparently never charged any of the dignitaries for staying there. According to a waitress that Dux befriended in the gourmet dining room, the place had more than a thousand suites of equal size and quality.

  Dignitaries!

  The first day they were there, Dux walked around with his chest puffed out, imagining how important he and his cousin were. In the corridors, they saw well-dressed personages of varying galactic races whom they imagined to be ambassadors, noblemen and their ladies, and even kings and queens by their appearances, replete with royal entourages. The gaping boys’ imaginations ran to considerable extremes. When the two of them later told stories about this experience, any rational listener would undoubtedly discount their assertions, knowing how insular the Tulyans tended to be. There could not possibly have been so many galactic VIPs present at one time. But Acey and Dux, while having the good sense to avoid making any contact with the other visitors, had fun imagining who they might be. The boys also enjoyed picking out the various alien races they could identify, and marveling at those they had never seen until now. It only whetted their appetites for traveling more throughout the galaxy.

  Acey kept saying he was anxious to leave for more adventures, and he’d been developing all sorts of plans about other star systems he wanted to see, and how he would get there. Every day he expressed his increasing restlessness to Dux, and to Eshaz whenever he looked in on them every few days. The Tulyan was performing important work for the Council of Elders, though he would not provide them with details. Whenever the teenagers asked him why they had to stay there, Eshaz said he felt responsible for their safety, and that he would be able to spend more time with them soon.

  Soon.

  Even Dux, who enjoyed the Visitor’s Center far more than Acey, was growing suspicious of that promise. Eshaz’s focus seemed to be elsewhere.

  As time passed, Acey went to increasing lengths to avoid the comforts of the orbital center. Seeming to make a game out of it, he not only slept on the carpet instead of the bed; he refused to eat in the gourmet dining room, accepting only leftovers or slightly stale food. In addition, he wouldn’t go anywhere near the very tempting amenities of the center, not the pools, spas, game rooms, or performing arts chambers.

  At first Dux thought his cousin was going too far, but then he began to understand. The two of them would have to leave soon, and Acey’s way of handling the overabundance of luxury was easiest for him. In contrast, Dux fully accepted the fact that their stay would not endure, but he went for the full treatment anyway, to “broaden his life experiences.” For him, this made complete sense. So, each day Dux luxuriated in the pools and spas, permitting a beautiful Jimlat masseuse to give him treatments. He gorged himself on fine foods, and gained two kilos a day.

  One afternoon as he headed for the main performance hall, Dux saw Eshaz approaching, lumbering along the corridor with his heavy strides. “Where is Acey?” the Tulyan asked. His scaly bronze skin glistened. He wore a tan cloak with a circle design on the lapel, which seemed to be his formal attire when working on important matters with the Council.

  “Hey, Eshaz,” the teenager called out, cheerily. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s walking on nails somewhere.” He spoke of Acey’s behavior in a humorous way, then noticed that the big reptilian looked upset about something.

  Eshaz wouldn’t tell him anything until they located Acey, who was sitting in the back of the main kitchen, eating with the workers. Acey, in a large chair at the head of a long opawood table, had been spinning grand yarns, embellishing stories of his adventures on board a treasure ship, taking his listeners to distant, exotic lands in their imaginations. The workers, all of whom were Tulyan, nodded their heads politely, but did not look that impressed. Acey, not seeming to notice their reactions, rambled on, looking like a child propped up on pillows in the Tulyan chair. He stopped when his cousin and Eshaz entered the room.

  Seeing Eshaz, one of the most honored web caretakers, the kitchen helpers all stood and bowed respectfully. Eshaz bowed in return, then led the boys to a private dining room, where he ordered tea. When the beverages were delivered and the doors closed, he peered at the pair through slitted eyes, and said, “You young men are in my safekeeping for the moment. I trust you are being treated well here?”

  “Like royalty,” Dux said. “I’ve been using every facility. They make you feel like a prince here.”

  “That is our custom,” Eshaz said. “We are a simple people, but we understand the needs of other races, such as your own.”

  “When can we leave?” Acey asked. “I know. Soon, soon.”

  “You are anxious to continue your adventures, I see,” Eshaz said. “I can understand that, and I apologize for not being able to spend more time with you. But that will change one day.” He hesitated, as if avoiding the annoying word “soon,” then said to Acey, “It seems odd for a Human not to enjoy the comforts we offer. Are you ascetic for religious reasons? You follow the Way of Jainuddah, perhaps?”

  In a sharp tone, Acey responded, “I’m not sure what you mean, but I don’t have any religion. I just do what feels best to me.”

  “Ah yes, Human viscerality,” the Tulyan said, nodding. He paused. Then: “I am saddened to inform you that four merchant prince planets, including the capital world of Timian One, have been destroyed by the Mutatis. As a result, Doge Lorenzo has set up a new base of operations on Canopa, where he is presently engaged in warfare against Noah’s Guardians.” For security reasons, Eshaz did not tell them exactly how he and the Council of Elders had learned all of this, using their Timeweb connections.

  “Timian One is gone?” Dux said. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Along with Plevin Four, Earth, and Mars.”

  “Mars!” Acey said, leaning forward and accidentally knocking his tea over. “Dux and I saw what was left of it!” Acey sopped up tea with a napkin while relating how they had been aboard a podship that passed by the debris field, and the horrors that the passengers saw.

  “We thought a huge meteor must have struck the planet,” Dux said.

  “No meteor,” Eshaz said. “The Mutatis have a terrible weapon.” He went on to tell the boys what he knew about Noah’s involvement and the pod-killer sensor-guns he caused to be set up on pod stations orbiting all merchant prince planets, weapons that were designed to blast podships the minute they arrived from space, since they might contain Mutati weapons. Then he added, “Unfortunately, Noah is now a prisoner
of the Doge.”

  “He sacrificed himself for the merchant princes, and that’s how they reward him?” Acey said. “What kind of gratitude is that?”

  “The ways of your race are most peculiar,” Eshaz said. “Despite Noah’s bravery, Doge Lorenzo and Francella Watanabe are speaking against him, blaming the cutoff of podship travel on him. They don’t provide details or reasons, only the false assertion that it is the fault of Noah and his Guardians, and they will be punished for their misdeeds.”

  “They’re lying!” Acey exclaimed.

  “Of course they are,” Eshaz said. “It is one of the things Humans do best. The truth is, Noah Watanabe is a most remarkable man, rare among the galactic races.”

  “We need to get back and help him,” Dux said.

  “But we cannot get to Canopa anymore,” Eshaz said, “or to any other merchant prince planet.”

  “That puts a crimp in our travel plans,” Dux said.

  Looking out the window of the private dining room, watching the cosmic mists swirling around the Tulyan Starcloud, Eshaz said, “Podships aren’t going to Human or Mutati worlds anymore. After they were attacked at Canopa, the creatures started avoiding potential war zones.”

  “The podships made that decision?” Dux asked, his eyes open wide. “A boycott?”

  Eshaz hesitated, for he knew Parviis controlled the vast majority of podships and must have made the decision themselves. He just nodded, then pointed to the nearby pod station, in synchronous orbit over the starcloud. “For what it’s worth to you, we can still travel throughout the rest of the galaxy.”

  “I’ve always suspected that podships are smarter than people say,” Dux said, “that they’re not really big dumb animals.”

  “I am not permitted to say much about them outside the Council Chamber. I will tell you this, however, my young friends. The Tulyan people have had a relationship with the Aopoddae going back for more years than you can imagine. In modern times our connection with that race has been much more limited than in the past, but I hope to change that one day.”

  Deep in thought, trying to imagine what the Tulyan was not telling him, Dux nodded, and gazed out the window of the Visitor’s Center. The young man watched a podship leave the pod station. As the spacecraft accelerated, it became a flash of light that shifted from pale to brilliant green, like an emerald comet. Then it was gone, vanishing into the black void of the cosmos.

  Chapter Five

  As Human beings, we are often not proficient at considering the consequences of our actions. Rather, we plunge forward carelessly, taking the path of least resistance. Short-term pleasure. But for the sake of our children and grandchildren, we need to look farther ahead than the stubby tips of our noses.

  —Noah Watanabe, Eco-Didactics

  With his ears attuned to every noise, Noah heard footsteps. Boots, but he could not recognize the stride, the one foot scuffing. Maybe it was another doctor coming to examine his condition. He hated them for probing him every few hours, taking cell and blood samples, hooking him up to machines.

  For three days Noah Watanabe and Anton Glavine had been incarcerated at Max One, believed to be the highest-security prison on Canopa. They were in individual cells on separate floors, preventing the men from communicating with one another. The facility, like the notorious Gaol of Brimrock that had been destroyed with Timian One, fronted a broad canal, and had been built around the same time, during the reign of Lorenzo’s father.

  To Noah it seemed ancient, with green-and-black grime and mold on the stones, and lingering, unpleasant odors. Max One had an ugly reputation during the decades it had been operating, with stories of tortured and murdered prisoners. His father, Prince Saito, had always said they were only unsubstantiated rumors, but looking around his own cell and walking the rock-lined corridors whenever he was escorted by guards, Noah sensed that bad things had taken place here, and might be occurring at that very moment.

  On the third night he heard voices down the corridor, the authoritative tones of guards and the whimpering pleas of a prisoner, followed by an ugly sounding thump. Then footsteps again, and the dragging of a heavy object, probably a body. The noises receded, leaving Noah with his own troubled thoughts.

  The fortresslike building echoed with emptiness. The muscular, red-haired man climbed on top of a chair and looked out a high window at the canal. Through the soft orange glow of electronic containment bars, he saw the lights of the Doge’s military encampment on the opposite shore, casting reflections across the water. Even at this late hour, soldiers moved around over there, tending to their various tasks.

  Any fears Noah had were diminished by the fact that he now seemed impervious to physical harm. In one of his most optimistic projections, he only had to wait, and eventually he would discover a way to gain his freedom. His enemies could not kill him. Or, he didn’t think they could. Certainly, every method had not yet been attempted. Not even close. He shuddered at the thought of what the Doge’s torturers might do to him, the unspeakable suffering they might inflict on him as they performed cruel tests to see how much he could endure. He might be immortal, but apparently that did not come with invulnerability to physical suffering. He remembered only too well the intense, searing pain of the puissant blast to his chest when his own sister shot him.

  Through it all, Noah at least had an avenue of escape into the paranormal realm, and he hoped to perfect that ability enough to endure even the most terrible atrocities that his torturers might visit upon him. Noah was able to break away mentally for a few moments at a time, and sometimes longer, to take what he called “timetrance” excursions into the web. But the ability was erratic and unpredictable.

  On an earlier excursion into Timeweb, Noah had been able to remote-pilot podships, one at a time. But when he attempted to do the same thing from the prison cell, his power proved unreliable. Like the tendrils of a plant, his mind would reach out into the cosmos, questing, trying to secure itself to a podship. Sometimes he could do it, though for only a few moments before the living vessel jerked away and fled into space. On other occasions he could not even touch one of the vessels. Such attempts disappointed him, because he thought he’d been making progress at unraveling the mysteries of the alternate dimension. But like a playful lover, Timeweb seemed to withdraw and elude him whenever it felt like it, dancing away and then returning, always enticing him, while remaining out of reach.

  If only he could remotely control the podships on a regular basis, even one of them at a time, he might find a way of going after the Mutati torpedo weapons. But previous visions had shown him that there were hundreds of the super-bombs in space, surrounding the Merchant Prince Alliance. Noah would need to make a concerted, methodical effort, and he didn’t have anywhere near the capability necessary to accomplish that yet. He also realized that even if he found a way of destroying the super-weapons, that wouldn’t solve the underlying problem—the ability of the Mutatis to create more of the devices. He couldn’t just treat the symptom of the disease. It went much deeper than that.

  Despite Noah’s frustrations, his ephemeral sojourns into the mysterious realm gave him something he could look forward to. Curiously, some of the paranormal occurrences, even if they lasted for only a few seconds, seemed to take much longer, like complex dreams that were experienced in an instant. But it was not always that way, judging by his own wristchron, which his jailers had allowed him to keep. Sometimes it was exactly the opposite, as longer trips seemed to pass in an instant, and an hour became five seconds. It was as if Timeweb, the teasing lover, was not allowing him to figure out patterns, not permitting him to exploit it.

  Noah steeled himself as he heard the footsteps getting closer, and he vowed to outlive this prison, all of its wardens, and all of its doges. He would find a way to survive and live a full, rewarding life, a contributing life. Life. Such an unpredictable force, even in his own case, with his cellular system enhanced.

  What did his tormenters want of him this time? Ha
d they thought of some new experiment to conduct, yet another painful intrusion? He took a deep, shuddering breath. They weren’t giving him enough time to sleep, but he had already noticed a diminishing need for rest, beginning right after Eshaz connected him to Timeweb and gave him the miraculous cure.

  Now a new guard appeared on the other side of the containment field, with his features fogged slightly by a glitch in the electronic barrier. He fiddled with the black field-control box on his waist, cursing the trouble he was having with it.

  Finally the energy field fizzled and popped, then went down entirely in a crackle and flash of orange.

  Noah sprang into the corridor and tackled the guard before he could grab a weapon, slamming him to the floor. Noah was powerfully built, and had been doing daily exercises in his cell, trying to stay as active and strong as possible. The guard was no match for him. With one punch to the jaw, Noah knocked him unconscious.

  Just as he was removing the guard’s uniform, however, he heard a noise and reached for the man’s gun. Before he could unholster it, a bolt of yellow light knocked the weapon away.

  Doge Lorenzo emerged from a side passageway, with half a dozen Red Beret soldiers. One of them fired a stun dart at Noah, hitting him in the shoulder and dropping him hard to the stone floor.

  “We’ve been observing you,” Lorenzo said. “Taking bets on what you would do. I won, of course.”

  Chapter Six

  Truly great acts are never transitory. They last into eternity.

  —Master Noah Watanabe

  It had been a hard day of supervising digging operations in the deep tunnels of the subterranean Guardian base, and Giovanni Nehr felt the leaden weight of fatigue. He still wore the armored, machinelike shell that had been custom-fitted to his body by his robot companions, but it now had green-and-brown colors, like the uniforms of Noah’s Guardians. All of the fighters under Thinker’s command sported such colors on their bodies now. Gio remained the only Human directly under the command of the robot leader, although he was beginning to work more closely with other Humans all the time.