The Web and the Stars

by Brian Herbert

  He met Kre’n’s gaze, and added, “Just as your people consider it a responsibility to take care of the web.”

  “We have heard many stories about you,” said the largest Elder on the bench, looking very intense and severe as he sat beside Kre’n. Earlier, Eshaz had said his name was Dabiggio.

  “I am here to second the request of Doge Anton,” Noah said, “and to tell you this. For the sake of the galaxy, all podships must be returned to their rightful custodians, your people. It is not a matter for diplomacy, though we have considered this option at length. Since time immemorial, Parviis have controlled a vast fleet of podships. It is what they do, and what they think they were born to do. I don’t think they will move aside for the sake of anyone, and certainly not where their mortal enemies are taking a central role in using the podships. Instead, we need to strike the Parviis hard and recover the Aopoddae. Tesh says the Parviis are ill and weak, but may be recovering. And—they have more than a hundred thousand vessels.”

  As Noah spoke, some of the Elders stepped down from the bench and walked around him, looking down at him closely. The large aliens made him uneasy. Even the shortest of them was still half a meter taller than he was, and all of them weighed several times what he did. Finally he asked, “What is it?”

  For more than a minute, the old Tulyans said nothing, and a hush fell over the entire chamber. Looking around, Noah noticed a certain deference toward him on the faces of some Elders … but Dabiggio and others seemed to regard him with suspicion.

  “There are many legends among my people,” Kre’n said, “and one of them concerns a Savior.” She placed a large hand gently on Noah’s shoulder. He felt her rough, scaly skin against the side of his neck, touching bare skin. “You may be the one,” she added.

  Noah did not particularly like what she had just said. Tesh’s earlier comment bore some similarity: ‘You are destined for greatness.’ First from a Parvii and now from a Tulyan … to his knowledge, these were the only two galactic races that had ever dominated podships.

  Am I really the first of my race who has been able to do it, too? he wondered. / think I am, but what if I am not? What if there have been others in the past.… He paused in his thought process, when it occurred to him that he might be a genetic mutation that would continue into the future, from his own offspring. Yet another galactic race, or subrace.

  If the galaxy survives.

  But he thought his special ability might be gone, since he could no longer enter Timeweb voluntarily, and of late had only been able to gain entrance through his dreams. It was as if two dimensions were rubbing together at the time-and-space nexus of his life, sliding him into and out of each realm.

  Still, Noah sensed that he had not entirely lost the ability, and that it lay dormant somewhere deep inside, verified by the dreams. One day, the skill would resurface again, but only when he was ready to receive it.

  But the suggestion that he might be a Savior was an aspect that terrified him, one that he did not feel equipped to handle. Gazing up at the rugged, ancient faces of the Elders and at the audience around the chamber, he wanted to announce that he was not anyone’s messiah, that he was just one man, and he would do the best he could.

  As Noah considered this, he noticed that most of the Elders had returned to their seats, but First Elder Kre’n remained behind. Now she said to him, in a husky whisper, “I just read your thoughts.” He had almost forgotten that she was still touching his neck, but now he became aware of it, and remembered what Eshaz had once told him, that Tulyans could read minds this way.

  When she withdrew her hand, Noah felt sudden panic, and a swooning sensation.

  “Don’t say what you’re thinking to them,” the Tulyan leader urged, still whispering. “Let those who think you are the Savior continue to believe. It makes them more likely to authorize the military venture. Only time will tell if you really are the one. You don’t even know yourself.”

  Reluctantly, Noah nodded. Kre’n returned to her own position on the bench.

  Noah continued, speaking passionately. “At this moment in galactic history, there is a critical need for unity between Tulyans and Humans and cooperation on an unprecedented scale.” The great chamber had fallen silent, while everyone listened to his words.

  “I don’t know the full extent of my abilities, or why I’ve been placed here at this time of terrible crisis.” He paused and looked around the chamber with a determined expression. “Truly, I can only tell you what is in my heart, something your First Elder has ascertained with her touch. We must move forward together and survive … or die together. Doge Anton is right. We must form a military joint venture and attack the Parvii Fold.”

  Whispering filled the chamber, and Noah concluded his remarks.

  After he resumed his seat between Eshaz and Anton, the Council engaged in a brief debate among themselves, speaking in low tones on the other side of the bench. There was a good deal of whispering, and periods when the Tulyans read each other’s minds by touching hands.

  Finally, the Elders resumed their places at the bench, but this time they remained standing.

  In a somber tone, the First Elder looked at Doge Anton del Velli and announced, “We agree to form a military partnership with you. Due to the pressing need to regain our relationship with the sacred Aopoddae fleet, we see no viable alternative.” She cleared her throat. “We will provide podships and pilots for the enterprise, while the merchant princes will provide weapons, fighters, and the military commander in chief.”

  “That is satisfactory,” Doge Anton said, rising as he spoke.

  “I must emphasize that we were never masters of the sacred fleet,” Kre’n said. “Instead, it was a cooperative arrangement between two sentient races for the well-being of the entire galaxy.”

  “May I propose a name for our joint assault force?” Noah asked, standing beside Anton.

  Kre’n nodded.

  “The Liberators,” Noah said. “It will be our mission to rescue podships and return them to you, for the stewardship and maintenance of galactic infrastructures.”

  “We are not inspired by such designations,” Kre’n said, with a slight smile, “but it is known that you Humans are. Very well, for the purposes of this mission, we shall be known as the Liberators.”

  Chapter Eighty-Nine

  The endings and beginnings of life perpetually feed into one another, in infinite and fascinating variations.

  —Master Noah Watanabe, unpublished interview

  While Tesh no longer wanted Anton as a lover, she had been impressed by a number of decisions he had made recently, all surprising in view of his youth and political inexperience. According to stories circulating while his demented mother was still alive, he had emerged quickly from behind her skirts to carve his own identity as a leader. Now he was working closely with Noah Watanabe, a man Tesh looked up to more than any other.

  The aggressive plan that the two men had conceived for the Tulyan Starcloud trip had irritated her at first, but in the end she had seen the wisdom of their views, and the absolute necessity of carrying them out. The way Noah and Anton were setting aside political animosities between the government and the Guardians was admirable, and she liked their decision to bring a nehrcom relay unit along on the voyage. While it was of no use at the starcloud, since it was out of range of land-based installations, they had foreseen how it would be employed elsewhere.

  As Tesh approached Canopa, piloting Webdancer at the head of the Tulyan fleet, Doge Anton used the relay unit to send a coded transmission ahead, ordering the shutdown of the pod station defense system. This was done, and the podships arrived en masse, surrounding the facility. A few of the ships took turns to disembark passengers. The vessels were unlike any others seen in that sector, at least in modern times. They had large reptilian faces on their prows, giving them a hybrid appearance, like the strangest race in the entire galaxy.

  At the pod station, Anton’s wife, General Nirella Nehr, greeted the D
oge and his entourage, bringing with her a contingent of Red Beret and MPA soldiers. She wore a red uniform with gold epaulets and braids, the first time Tesh had ever seen her in it. The impressive garb suited her. This woman of impeccable reputation looked very official and comfortable in her position. She saluted the Doge, then stood rigidly at attention as he spoke to her.

  “Begin loading our specialized military personnel and hardware onto the podships,” Anton said. “Exactly as I told you to prepare before I left, except now we have a larger fleet than I anticipated … more than nine hundred ships. We will make stops all over the Merchant Prince Alliance, gathering the largest possible strike force.”

  “So it’s really going to happen,” Nirella said. “An assault on the Parvii Fold!” The female officer glanced at Tesh, then back to Anton. “As you ordered, we’ve been getting everything ready in your absence, including our most powerful space-artillery pieces.”

  He plans well, Tesh thought, looking at her former boyfriend. Let’s hope this leads to a good result.

  Although he struggled to conceal it, Pimyt was alarmed to see Human military activity on Canopa, with hundreds of podships setting down on the surface of the planet. Where did Doge Anton and Noah Watanabe get all of those vessels, and why did they have reptilian faces on their prows, giving them the appearance of odd Aopoddae-Tulyan hybrids? The Hibbil wanted to relay nehrcom messages to his people, but since Lorenzo’s fall from power he was being denied access to a transceiver.

  Using his remaining connections, Pimyt traveled around the planet to see more of what was going on. Through the payment of bribes, he learned what was happening: a major military venture to the Parvii Fold, with Tulyan pilots operating the ships. He felt his spirits lifting. There were persistent rumors that the Parviis had powerful telepathic weapons, so with any luck at all, the task force would be wiped out and never make it back to Canopa.

  On the third day of military preparations, the door to Pimyt’s office on the orbiter slammed open, and Nirella Nehr marched in, wearing her uniform and cap. Just before the door closed behind her, he saw her soldiers crowding into the corridor outside.

  “Where is my father?” she demanded, leaning on the desk and glaring at the Hibbil, only centimeters from his furry face.

  “I don’t know,” Pimyt said, indignantly. “How dare you come in here like this?” Actually he’d been trying to arrange an appointment with her to work his wiles on her, but she had either been too busy to respond or had her own reasons for avoiding him. This was not what he had in mind.

  “Some of the people you’ve been paying off are talking, and we have established a pattern. You’ve been blackmailing my father, haven’t you?” She was so angry that spittle sprayed on his face.

  Wiping off his cheek, the attaché responded in a syrupy tone, “You and I might come to an understanding, in exchange for certain … cooperation.”

  With a sudden motion, she grabbed him by the neck and shouted, “I ‘11 hook you up to the same Hibbil torture machine that Lorenzo used on General Sajak, melting his body piece by piece, from the feet up!”

  “And what a galactic scandal that would cause,” Pimyt countered, with a sly, ostensibly fearless smile. “Especially when embarrassing information about your father is released at the same time. Let’s call it an industrial secret about how your precious nehrcom works. It’s not quite as complex as you’ve let on, is it?”

  When she reddened, he grinned and added, “The disclosure is all set up, an automatic reaction if anything happens to me.”

  Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and for a moment he thought she might murder him on the spot. Then she whirled and stalked off, without another word.

  As she left, angry and frustrated, Pimyt realized he had only won a skirmish with this female general, and there would be additional confrontations. Maybe he should have told her more, everything he knew about the internal workings of the nehrcom. But she had caught him off guard, and he’d wanted more time to consider what to tell her.

  Just then the door burst open again, and a squad of red-uniformed soldiers marched in. A young officer slapped a document onto the desk. “We are placing you into protective custody,” he announced.

  “But I don’t need any protection!” the little Hibbil protested, as he was lifted into the air, with his feet kicking. “I can take care of myself!”

  “Orders directly from the Doge,” the officer said, showing him an oval red seal on the document. He snapped electronic cuffs around Pimyt’s wrists and ankles.

  “But Lorenzo would never.…” Pimyt caught himself, having gotten so flustered that he had forgotten political realities. “Why would Doge Anton do this?”

  “Gee,” the officer said, “I’d ask him, but I think he’s kind of busy.”

  “Lorenzo will not like this!”

  “The two of you can discuss it at length,” the officer said. “He’s being taken into custody, too.”

  The following morning the Liberator fleet departed, bound for Siriki, the second wealthiest planet in the Merchant Prince Alliance. As the warships left Canopa, the pod station defenses were reactivated, while ahead, at Siriki, they were temporarily shut down, for the least possible amount of time.

  Noah, Anton, and Nirella rode in the flagship Webdancer, which was piloted by Tesh. Her vessel was the only craft not piloted by a Tulyan, and as a consequence it was the sole one that did not have a reptilian face on its prow. All of the ships (including hers) had a useful new feature: gun ports that opened and closed in the thick flesh of the hulls at the command of the various pilots, so that weapons could be fired through them. Intriguingly, the podships had done this en masse when weapons were being loaded aboard them, so they obviously had a collective way of understanding the lofty purpose and magnitude of the mission.

  Many Guardians rode in the warships, including Subi Danvar, Acey Zelk, and Dux Hannah. All of them would fight side by side with Red Berets and MPA soldiers against a common enemy. But by far the most numerous of the passengers on board the spacecraft were Tulyan pilots, more than one hundred thousand of them in transport vessels inside the cargo holds, waiting for the opportunity to regain control of the huge podship fleet.

  During the preparations for this ambitious undertaking, Master Noah had been at Anton’s side, giving him advice and marveling as he saw his young nephew assume the reins of power and gain the respect of his troops. He was exactly the sort of doge that a venture of this magnitude required.

  As one of the leaders of the desperate military effort, Noah felt strong and very much in contact with this dimension of reality, which was inhabited by his physical body and its conscious memories. In recent days he had not dreamed at all when he slept, and perhaps this had something to do with how tired he was when his head hit the pillow, causing him to go deeper into unconsciousness than the REM level of dreams.

  At Siriki, specialized military personnel and space weapons were loaded aboard the ships, and the fleet moved on. This procedure was repeated at the seventeen largest Alliance planets, until they had what they needed. In the process, Noah and Anton discovered that Human military assets on all of the planets were not as extensive as shown in the records left behind by ex-Doge Lorenzo. The bases were smaller, and even seemed to be positioned in non-strategic locations. The two men vowed to look into it further upon returning to Canopa.

  Having earlier discovered deficiencies in the military installations on Canopa, Anton had ordered the arrests of Lorenzo and Pimyt, along with their top associates. Even if they proved innocent of wrongdoing, Anton said he did not want to leave that group in charge of anything, not even the orbital gambling facility. He didn’t intend to leave a power vacuum that Lorenzo could exploit.

  With minimal fanfare, the task force set course for the galactic fold of the Parviis. Speeding ahead, Webdancer seemed anxious to join the battle. Not far behind the sentient flagship, in the midst of other Tulyan-piloted vessels, flew one under the guidance of Eshaz, bearing his dete
rmined face on the prow.

  It was the most important military operation in the history of the galaxy.

  The End

  About the Author

  Brian Herbert, the son of Frank Herbert, is the author of numerous New York Times bestsellers. He has won many literary honors and has been nominated for the highest awards in science fiction. In 2003, he published Dreamer of Dune, a moving biography of his father that was nominated for the Hugo Award. After writing ten DUNE-universe novels with Kevin J. Anderson, the coauthors created their own epic series, HELLHOLE. Brian began his own galaxy-spanning science fiction series in 2006, TIMEWEB. His other acclaimed solo novels include Sidney’s Comet; Sudanna, Sudanna; The Race for God; and Man of Two Worlds (written with Frank Herbert).