The Timeweb Chronicles: Timeweb Trilogy Omnibus

by Brian Herbert

  As the guard rushed toward the body, the Zultan shouted, “I meant for you to remove him from my sight. It was not necessary to kill him.”

  “Sorry, Sire. I thought you … uh, I … misinterpreted your signal.”

  Abal Meshdi realized that he had himself sent the wrong hand signal. No matter. He would have the guard put to death anyway. The Zultan did not tolerate mistakes. Except his own, of course.

  Glaring in feigned disapproval, Meshdi retrieved the communication pyramid and activated it. Through a magnification mechanism on one of the faces of the device, he peered into a deep space sector that he did not recognize … a small blue sun, a pink planet, high meteor activity. Something streaked toward the planet from space, and moments later the world detonated, hurtling chunks of debris into the cosmos.

  The pyramid glowed brightly for a moment, then went dark.

  The audience hall was full of armed guards now, chattering nervously and searching for threats. Calmly, the Zultan again pressed the activation button of the pyramid. The same scene repeated itself, an unknown planet destroyed. No written communication accompanied the display, but under the circumstances he did not need one.

  Gazing calmly at the guard who had fired his weapon, Meshdi said sternly, “Beaustan, with your long family history of service to this throne, you should know that it is never good form to kill the bearer of good news.”

  “I’m terribly sorry,” the black-uniformed Mutati said. He looked confused, and terrified.

  Noting a pool of perspiration forming on the floor beneath his guard, the Zultan smiled. “Well, we can always get new messengers.” And new guards, he thought. The Zultan pointed a long, bony finger. “Remove the body and bring contractors to repair the damage.”

  “Immediately, Sire.”

  As the men worked, Meshdi stood and watched. This was excellent news indeed, and he had worried unnecessarily.

  But isn’t that the job of a Zultan, he mused, to worry? He found himself in a rare, giddy mood.

  His secret research program, which had lasted for decades, was about to pay dividends. Finally, Adurian scientists, funded and supervised by Mutatis, had perfected the doomsday weapon. The planet he had just seen explode on the screen had been an uninhabited backwater world, a test case … blasted into space trash.

  He absolutely loved the extrapolation: the entire Merchant Prince Alliance blown to bits and drifting through space like garbage.

  Humans are garbage.

  Just to play it safe, the detonation of the planet—and its aftermath—were camouflaged behind a veiling spectral field that made it look as if nothing had occurred at all. It had been an insignificant world in an immense galaxy, but the Zultan did not like to take chances.

  Two guards carried the broken body of the royal messenger past him, while others cleaned up blood and feathers from the spot where he fell. A team of contractors—four Mutati females wearing tight coveralls over their lumpy bodies—hurried into the hall carrying tools and equipment.

  Now the Zultan of the Mutati Kingdom had only to fund the training of an elite corps of “Mutati outriders” and manufacture enough Demolios to keep them busy—the high-powered torpedo-bombs that were capable of causing so much destruction. Any one of the projectiles could split through the crust and mantle of a planet and penetrate to the molten core within seconds. There it would go nuclear, with catastrophic results.

  In this manner, the gleeful Mutati leader would destroy every merchant prince world. Then, to completely eradicate Humans, he would proceed to wipe out even planets that were capable of sustaining their form of life—those having water, the proper atmospheric conditions, and circular orbits that provided them with the most stable environments. By contrast, Mutatis could live on worlds their enemy would find intolerable, where conditions were too hot or too cold, or with atmospheres that were too thin or too thick, and even with gravities that were too heavy or too light. Mutatis—life forms based upon carbon-crystal combinations—were one of the most highly adaptable races in the galaxy. Hence, they could live in many places.

  Meshdi, however, had decided to draw a line in space. After having been driven from planet to planet by the aggressive Humans, he would not be pushed back any further. The successful defense of Paradij had been a warning shot fired across their bow.

  The Zultan intended to commence his extermination program with Human fringe worlds, where habitation was low and military defenses were weak, or even nonexistent. Ultimately he planned to strike the key merchant prince planets where hundreds of billions lived, but that would be far more difficult, and would require meticulous planning. Those worlds were on the main podways, and Human agents constantly boarded vessels along the way, searching for dangers with highly effective Mutati detection equipment.

  If he focused on less guarded worlds it would provide the advantage of cutting off escape routes from the more populated planets, leaving the Humans no place to run.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sometimes a storm of the heart is more uncomfortable than any other kind.

  —Mutati Saying

  On a rocky promontory, Noah and Eshaz peered through thin plates of binocular glax that floated in front of their eyes. Automatically, the respective focal points shifted to accommodate their vision, and presently Noah made out the details of an encampment in the canopa pine woods below them. It was early morning on a cloudy day, and thirty Humans were arising in the camp, crawling out of their lean-tos and lighting a community fire to cook breakfast. It had rained heavily the night before, and those who had not constructed adequate shelters looked wet and miserable.

  “Anton and the girl are on the right side of the clearing,” Noah said, pointing. He had a reddish stubble of beard.

  “I see them.”

  Noah watched as Tesh stood in front of the foliage-roofed, blue-bark structure that she shared with Anton. He was sitting inside on his sleeping mat of soft jalapo leaves, stretching and yawning. He looked dry. Outside, Tesh pulled on a coat and blew on her hands to warm them. Up on the promontory, Noah was cold himself. If he hadn’t known it was midsummer, he might have thought snow was coming.

  The rock outcropping on which he stood was five kilometers from his administration building but still on the grounds of the Ecological Demonstration Project. He and Eshaz had flown a grid-plane there, an aircraft that was parked on a flat area just above them.

  Anton and Tesh lived in the primitive encampment with other Guardian trainees, and every day they had to trek back to the administration-education complex for classes. In the evenings they studied under dim lantern lights in their simple structures—a battery of classes that included Outdoor Survival, Cellular Mathematics, and Planetary Ecology. It was a challenging life, a test of the students’ endurance and ability to live in harmony with nature. They were provided with only a limited quantity of packaged foods (such as capuchee jerky and puya coffee), and had to forage and hunt for the rest … according to instructions they received in class.

  So as not to interfere with important ecological relationships, they could only kill certain animals (such as claymoles and abundant birds), and only for food. With respect to the flora, they were also restricted. Monitors in the woods graded their performance.

  Through his floating binocular glax Noah saw Tesh carrying a covered bowl over to contribute to the community breakfast. Based upon a report Noah had seen, she planned to prepare a protein paste from wild ingredients: kanoberries, ground grub worms and red ants, and honey. Anton was nursing several bee stings from going after the honey the day before. Tesh had been with him, but according to the report the bees had not bothered her at all.

  Now she was urging Anton to get up; he appeared groggy, and kept trying to lie back down. She wouldn’t let him, and finally dragged him out of the shelter, half-dressed. Other campers gathered around to watch, and were obviously enjoying the show. Even at this distance Noah could hear them laughing and clapping. But around the perimeter of the group, so
me people were looking up at the sky instead, which Noah did as well. The clouds were an ominous shade of dark gray, as if they were about to disgorge their heavy, wet contents on the land.

  In a few minutes Anton was up and moving around, carrying a big coffee cup. He seemed to have as much energy as most people in the class … but nowhere near as much as Tesh. A Human dynamo, she seemed able to call upon some inner reservoir of vitality.

  Tesh had a bucket now, and carried it down a steep path to a nearby creek, for water. Noah followed her movements, watching her closely.

  “She is strikingly beautiful, isn’t she?” Eshaz said.

  “What?” Noah felt his face flush hot.

  “I’m referring to Queen Zilaranda of the Vippandry Protectorate.”

  “Huh?”

  “Just kidding. I mean Tesh Kori.”

  “Anton’s girlfriend? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Is that so? Then I must have mistaken that gleam in your eyes, my friend.”

  Noah began to gesture with his hands as he spoke. “Well, she is attractive, but I would never think of showing her any interest—other than professional, of course. She’s my … friend’s … girlfriend.”

  An exceedingly observant sentient, Eshaz had noted with interest Noah’s hesitation over the word “friend” … but he said nothing of it. Eshaz wondered, though. If young Anton was not a friend, what was he? Certainly not an enemy, or Noah would not have permitted him to train for a position with the Guardians. A rival, perhaps? Had they competed for women in the past? But Noah was at least fifteen years older, and maybe a bit more than that.

  A light flashed on in Eshaz’s head. At a voice command he increased the power of his binocular glax, which enabled him to study the face of Anton Glavine. To his surprise, the Tulyan noted similarities with the way Noah looked: strong chin, aquiline nose, and wide-spaced hazel eyes.

  Could Anton be Noah’s son?

  As for the young woman, Eshaz found her extraordinary himself, in more than just her beauty, her high energy level, and her resistance to bee stings. The Tulyan had noted in brief conversations with her how quick she was, how obviously intelligent. He could see it in the glint and flash of her emerald green eyes, could hear it in her well-chosen words. In his own intellectual way, Eshaz found her eminently fascinating, but solely for the quality of her mind. Yes, Tesh Kori would make an excellent Guardian one day, and should receive rapid promotions.

  Inevitably she might work closely with Noah, perhaps even on his staff. Eshaz envisioned problems between the “friends” if that occurred. In the realm of Human relationships, some things were quite obvious and predictable to the Tulyan.

  In the camp below, Tesh brought the bucket of water back … while Noah continued to watch her.

  Just as the campers finished their breakfast, snow began to fall, only a little at first, and then a blizzard. They ran for cover, while Noah and Eshaz took shelter in their grid-plane and put on warm coats and insulated boots. Hours passed, with no slackening. By mid-afternoon, a meter of white lay on the ground.

  During the unexpected snowfall, Noah stayed in touch with his headquarters via the onboard telebeam transmitter. Finally, when the storm let up, he confirmed that a rescue team was about to set out in snow trucks. Concerned that this would take too long, he transmitted back that he and Eshaz were going to inspect the camp, and would meet them there.

  Noah and his trusted aide slid open the door of their small aircraft and cleared snow away so that they could get out. With Noah wearing a backpack full of survival gear, the two of them slogged through deep, pristine snow to the edge of the hill. From there, Noah fired a wire at a tree down in the woods and then connected a sling and descent clip to the wire. Glancing back at Eshaz, who held another sling and clip, he said, “Follow me.” And he jumped over the edge.

  One after the other, the two of them went down the steeply-angled wire. The descent clips had braking mechanisms that squeaked, but they worked properly, enabling the pair to proceed at a controlled rate of speed.

  When they descended as far as they could on the wire, they switched on motors to lower their slings to the ground. Reaching the camp a short while later, Noah feared the worst. Heavy snow had caved in many of the roofs, and the air was still. He detected no signs of life.

  Then he heard something, and looked to the right. On the creek side of the camp, snow shifted, breaking away with soft thumps, and he heard voices from that direction. “It’s about time you got here!” a woman shouted, cheerily. Noah recognized Tesh. As she stepped out from what looked like a snow cave, he counted four others behind her, including Anton.

  Eshaz got to them first, and looked inside the opening. Moments later, he reported, “They’re all here … and all are smiling.”

  “We’re OK, except one of the boys has a broken wrist,” Tesh said to Noah. She wore a sweater and jeans, and with a bare hand brushed snow from her shoulders and arms. Then, while Eshaz tended to the injured student, Tesh told Noah that the entire class had been caught unawares, but had pooled their resources, especially when some of the lean-to structures failed. As snow pummeled them, they had built a larger shelter, and huddled together inside.

  “Do we all get A’s?” Anton asked, with a wide grin.

  “You can count on it,” Noah promised. “But this is crazy. It never snows around here in the summer.”

  As if to show him how wrong he was, a howling arctic wind blasted through the trees, and the temperature dropped precipitously. Noah and Eshaz joined the others inside the makeshift shelter. This further delayed the rescuers in their snow machines, but they finally rolled noisily into to the camp.…

  * * * * *

  At well past midnight, Noah and Eshaz stood in the large lobby of the Guardian administration building, wearing dry clothes and drinking hot chocolate. Around them their companions chattered excitedly about the unexpected adventure. Curiously, the temperature had been rising quickly in the last few hours, and snow was melting outside, with water running off the rooftop and overflowing the gutters.

  Standing nearby, Tesh and Anton had been bundled up in warm coats, but heat coming in from outside forced them to remove them. Others were doing the same, and no one understood what was occurring. With one exception.

  “Canopa is not healthy,” Eshaz murmured, as he gazed into the distance.

  * * * * *

  By the following morning, even with the sun shining, the temperature began to drop once more, and snow accompanied the plunge, although considerably less than before. By evening the temperature rose and melted away the blanket of white, but it did not get as warm as the first night. Another day and night of this ensued—three in all—with the odd reversal of expected patterns repeating themselves, but in diminishing form.

  On the third night, Noah and Eshaz stood outside the main building, gazing up at a starry sky. To a certain extent Noah understood the Tulyan’s remark about Canopa. Both of them believed that planets were vital organisms, and that the galaxy was populated by living, Gaea-type worlds. They had discussed this subject in the past, but only in general terms that never quite satisfied Noah’s desire for information.

  It always seemed to him that Eshaz knew more than he was revealing about the subject. Even though Noah had coined the phrase “galactic ecology,” he did not really feel like an expert on the subject. He was only a student himself, with a great deal to learn.

  “Perhaps one day you will decide to tell me more,” Noah said.

  “Perhaps,” came the response.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The wise merchant prince emulates the predator.

  —”Discourses on Power,” confidential memo from Doge Lorenzo

  For weeks Prince Saito had clung to life, sustained by the life-support dome over him and the auxiliary medical equipment connected to his failing body. Since the injury he had lost more than forty kilograms, and looked pale. Princess Meghina felt as if she was caught in a nightmare, unable to save the man
she loved. Each day was like the one before it and the one that followed, and she fell into a dismal routine.

  She had been staying in an elegant hotel, only a short distance away by groundjet. In view of her high social status and special relationship with the Prince she might have stayed in his villa, but Francella had proffered no invitation and Meghina had too much pride to push the issue. Hence, the Princess had decided to go somewhere else, where she could have a little breathing room.

  Each morning at eight o’clock, her groundjet left the hotel and took her to the Prince’s villa high on the cliff, a short ride. She then remained at his side until late evening, talking to him, holding his hand, massaging his shoulders … and never giving up hope that he might regain consciousness. Sometimes she sustained herself by dipping into her memory vault and reliving wonderful moments the two of them had shared.

  “Remember that time we went on a sand-skiing holiday to Lost Lake Desert, and I tumbled down a huge dune and disappeared? You rushed down to rescue me, my gallant knight. I’ll never forget how you cleared away the sand so that I could breathe, and then you kissed me. I carry that kiss with me every day, and so many others, my darling.…”

  While recounting the anecdote for him she held his hand, and thought she felt his pulse quicken for a moment.

  A quick learner, Meghina had developed an understanding of the cell meters, immuno monitors, and other machines connected to his body. She began to memorize the results and compare them with prior outcomes, while asking a lot of questions of any doctor or nurse who happened to be in her proximity.

  Late one night, after staying with the Prince all day, she kissed him gently and felt the coldness of his lips, so cruelly different from the passion they had shared not so long ago. During the groundjet ride back afterward, she’d cried, afraid that he would never recover. But it had been only a short trip and only a short cry. By the time she arrived at her hotel suite she reminded herself that she needed to be strong for him, and she prepared for the next day.