“But Humans discarded these machines,” Jimu said.
“We still owe them some loyalty for creating us. Never forget that, Jimu. You and I would not be having this conversation at all if not for Humans. I think they threw us away in error, and I’ve been looking for an opportunity to prove it. I assure you, that despite the fumbling appearance of my troops, it is a skillful deception.” He touched a long scratch on his own torso. “Conventional wisdom holds that a well-run military force should be spotless and polished, thus instilling a sense of pride and personal self-worth into the organization. But there are distinct advantages to a less-than-perfect appearance. It can cause an opponent to underestimate your abilities.”
“That makes sense,” Jimu admitted. “Do you mean to tell me that even the machines that stopped functioning out on the parade ground did so by design?”
Thinker cut a jagged grin across his metal face. “Not exactly, but things are getting better.”
“The robots here are independently self-replicating,” Gearjok said to Jimu, “and you can be, too, with a little updating.”
Thinker explained that he had developed a sentient machine manufacturing process that did not exist anywhere else in the galaxy. His metal men were able to make copies of themselves by finding their own raw materials and making their own parts, even recycling old items as necessary. He mentioned what Jimu already knew, that there were other machines that could self-replicate (such as those of the Hibbils), but only in regimented factories, with raw materials provided for them under assembly line conditions.
“Is that why the robots are not uniform?” Jimu asked.
“Precisely. They use whatever materials are available to them.”
“With my own scrapes and dents, I should fit in nicely around here.”
“You’ll get a lot more before you’re through,” Thinker said. He paused, and added, “I am troubled about the assassination plot against Doge Lorenzo. It seems to me that this is the opportunity we’ve been looking for.”
Solemnly, Thinker placed a metal hand on Jimu’s shoulder and said, “I want you to lead a small force of our best fighting robots to Timian One and inform the Doge that he is in danger.”
“Me?”
“I like what I see in you, Jimu. You have experience, but even more importantly you have special qualities of leadership … your own way of solving problems. And you heard the conspirators yourself.”
“I’m honored, but …”
“You will inform him of the danger, and come right back. I need you here, to assist with the army we are forming.”
“I don’t feel ready for such an important assignment.”
“Nonsense. We just need to update your operating systems and data banks, clean you up a bit, and you’ll be ready to go. Another advantage that we have over Humans. With us, the learning curve is almost immediate.”
“You’re going to intervene in Human politics?”
“Doge Lorenzo is in danger, and we must do something!”
“Then I’m your robot. But first I must confess, anxiety is heating up my circuits. Could you ask the programmers to take care of that too, please?”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get you in shape for the assignment.” Exuberantly, Thinker slapped his new comrade on the back, leaving one more dent, a little one.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The soil beneath your feet is never as solid as it looks. You must continually probe and turn over rocks, never letting your guard down.
—From The Tulyan Compendium
Noah led Tesh along a path that skirted his own home, with its gray shingle walls and white columns, matching the main administration building and complex of buildings that were partially visible downhill, through a stand of canopa oaks. Focused on the ecological training he was giving to her, he hardly noticed where they were. For the past three days, he had been spending private time with this intellectually gifted young woman, the top student in his school, sharing his personal insights with her, grooming her for the important position he hoped she would hold one day with the Guardians.
He had another matter on his mind as well. Word had reached him that Earth had been destroyed in a sudden, mysterious explosion that left the original home of humanity a debris field, floating in space. The most widely accepted theory was that a comet had hit the sparsely-populated planet, or a meteor, but astronomers had not seen anything unusual in that sector prior to the detonation. Another theory held that it might have been a huge volcanic chain reaction, and still another suggested that the Mutatis had done it. Every one of these ideas seemed far-fetched to the experts, and Noah wasn’t sure himself.
As an ecologist, he would be analyzing all available data as it came in. Under the circumstances, though, with the death of his father and the suspicions that had been cast in his direction about that incident, he didn’t want to go anywhere near the remains of Earth, or engage any of his own investigators. His own advisers suggested that he maintain a low profile, or his enemies would find a way to blame Earth on him, too. He and Subi were convinced that Noah’s enemies—undoubtedly including Francella—wanted to discredit him and his planetary recovery operations. Many of the corporate princes were opposed to his environmental policies and recommendations, and considered him a thorn in their collective side. Now, with the influential Saito Watanabe out of the way, the son had become an even easier target.
Bending down, Noah selected a large oak leaf and held it up, so that midday sunlight revealed the gold-and-brown details of its pattern. “Look at the perfect symmetry of these lines,” he said, passing a finger over the leaf. “Amazing, isn’t it? I’ve seen such perfection all over the galaxy, in leaves, seashells, spider webs, and in so many other amazing objects of nature. It shows an interconnectedness, that planets are linked to one another.”
“Your concept of galactic ecology,” she said, “the interconnectedness of life in remote star systems.”
He nodded. “A controversial concept, but I’ve never shied away from controversy. I think life sprouted in similar forms all over the galaxy, and probably all over the universe.”
“Like the theory of parallel evolution,” she observed, “but bigger than the similar life forms found on the continents or islands of one planet. You’re talking about each planet as an island in a cosmic sea, with parallel life forms sprouting all over the place.”
“That’s correct,” he said, beaming at her.
“I’ve been wondering about something,” she said, looking at him intently with her bright green eyes. “Your writings are silent on this point, but do you think a cosmic wind carries seeds and cells from planet to planet?”
He tried not to think about the physical attraction he felt for her, and as before he set it aside. “Perhaps, and perhaps not. I’ve never been able to prove it one way or another.”
“Doesn’t all this prove the existence of a higher power, holding sway over everything, creating perfect beauty? Doesn’t it prove that there really is a God?”
“It doesn’t prove anything of the kind, only that there is an interconnectedness.”
“I see. You’re a scientist, not a religious scholar.”
He smiled. “The universe is an incredible mystery. We see what we want to see in it, and delight in its boundless wonders.” Noah let the leaf go, and a gust of wind picked it up, lifting it gracefully into the sky and carrying it through an opening in the trees, toward his headquarters on the land below. He watched the leaf until it eventually drifted down, out of view.
Placing a hand on his arm, Tesh said, “Perhaps I shouldn’t say this, but I feel something between us.” Slowly, hesitantly, he looked at her, and she moved around in front him, so that he could not avoid her easily.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, lying. The wind whipped his curly, reddish hair.
Abruptly, she stretched up and kissed him on the mouth, so passionately that he had difficulty pulling away, but finally did so.
Folding her
arms across her chest, she said, “I suppose you have this problem with many of your female students, and I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable, but I’ve always been direct.”
“I’m your professor, that’s all.” Noah was not entirely surprised by her forwardness, having noticed the way she looked at him seductively with her emerald eyes , and the gentle, alluring tones of her voice whenever she spoke to him. He had been trying to maintain his distance from her, but she must have noticed something in his demeanor, a weakness that she could exploit. He didn’t entirely trust her, or any women who used their looks and wiles to lure men. Too many were like Sirens, he thought, enticing men onto dangerous shoals.
His eyes flashed as he looked at her. Despite his misgivings, Noah longed for a closer relationship with her, but fought his emotions, trying to retain his professional demeanor. Other female students had made overtures toward him, and he had always taken the high road, never succumbing to the desires he had felt for them. By avoiding embarrassing and compromising entanglements, he had remained proud of himself. But now, more than ever before, he felt vulnerable.
“You’re Anton’s girlfriend,” Noah said, flatly. He looked away, at the sun dappled trees on the slope below them. “He’s like a … younger brother … to me, and I could never consider betraying him.”
“I’ve made no promises to him,” she said.
“But I’ve made promises to myself.”
“And I respect that. She moved away a little. Look, I’ve always been a flirt. I’ve dated men of many galactic races, have always been a traveler. Maybe you’re better off avoiding me.”
As Noah led the way on a trail back downhill, he had no inkling of the extent of her travels, that she could actually guide podships on fantastic journeys across the galaxy, that she had already lived for more than seven centuries, and that she was not at all what she appeared to be.
“Are you going to kick me out of school for this?” she asked.
“Of course not. You’re an exceptional student. You just need to understand that I have boundaries.”
“At least you know I wasn’t doing anything to influence my grades,” she said with a laugh. “I already have the highest test scores.”
He laughed with her, but didn’t like what he was feeling. Aside from the professional distance he wanted from his students, he felt what could only be described as a prurient desire for her, and it wasn’t right. He was not that sort of a person … at least, he didn’t think he was.
As they reached the glax-walled main entrance of the administration building, his adjutant Subi Danvar rushed up, wearing the green-and-brown uniform of the Guardians. “We have a problem,” the rotund man said, wiping perspiration from his brow. “Diggers.”
“They’re on our property?” he asked.
“Southwest corner of the compound,” Danvar said. “They came up underneath a maintenance building and tore up the floor pretty bad before diving back into the ground. We lost a lot of equipment. Some of it damaged, and some just disappeared into the hole with them.”
“More than one Digger?”
“Three of the mechanical pests. Two big ones and a little one. Like a small family of them.”
Nodding, Noah said, “Form an extermination squad to go after them in their burrows.”
“It will be done, sir. We have a man who served on one of the Doge’s extermination squads before joining us. I’ll get his advice.”
“Good.”
“Can I join the squad?” Tesh asked.
“What?” Noah said. “But you have no experience.”
“I’m a fast learner, and it sounds like important work to me.”
“What about your studies?” Noah asked.
“To tell you the truth, it’s become too easy for me. I need a change of pace, if it’s all right with you, sir. Call it penance.”
Not understanding what she meant, the adjutant crinkled his brow.
“Just a private joke,” Noah said to him. Glancing at the young woman, he told her, “All right. We’ll give you extracurricular credit for the work. The machines are tearing up the environment, after all, so it is related to your studies.”
* * * * *
The following morning, Anton Glavine was waiting at Noah’s office when he arrived for work. With an infusercup of strong coffee in his hand, Noah greeted him, and let him in.
“I want to join the extermination squad, too,” Anton announced, as Noah went around and sat at his desk.
“Out of the question. You need to complete your studies.”
“So does Tesh. She says you’re giving her extracurricular credit for Digger duty.”
“That’s true, but she’s way ahead of you in her lessons, and can afford to take time away from the classroom. You don’t have that luxury.”
The young man chewed at the blond mustache on his upper lip. “I need to watch out for her, make sure she’s safe.”
“Tesh can take care of herself.”
“I don’t agree. This is a new operation.” His hazel eyes narrowed. “It’s really important to me, Noah. I won’t be any good in class at all if you don’t let me go.”
Noah still had not told Anton who his parents were—Doge Lorenzo and Noah’s own sister Francella—but he knew he could not keep the secret forever. Anton was no longer a child, and had a right to know. He was behaving like a man right now, taking responsibility for the woman he cared about, the woman Noah couldn’t help caring about himself.
A long period of silence ensued between the men. Finally, Noah said to his nephew, “All right.”
Shortly after Anton left his office, Noah received encouraging news from Subi Danvar. The extermination squads used by Doge Lorenzo had developed relatively safe, efficient means of combating the mechanical pests, and had designed their own remote-controlled probes and tunneling machines … equipment that Subi Danvar was purchasing. The adjutant had also been able to hire more experienced men and women to join the squad, and was referring to them as commandos.
“It’ll be safer than riding up to EcoStation,” Subi assured him.
“I hope you’re right,” Noah said.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
It is said that God made the Tulyan Starcloud in the image of heaven.
—From The Book of Tulyan Lore
On an orbital pod station, Eshaz stood at the end of a line of passengers, waiting to board a mottled gray-and-black spacecraft. He was returning to the starcloud for a regularly scheduled session of the Council of Elders, to report to them on his travels and activities … a requirement for all of his people who spent time away from home. The passengers included scores of other Tulyans—web caretakers like himself—along with a colorful assortment of galactic races.
Eshaz touched the side of the large, bulging vessel, felt the slight warmth and barely discernible pulse of living tissue. “Hello, old friend,” he whispered, thinking back to a halcyon time long ago when Tulyans held dominion over this podship and its brethren.
Now, in direct contact with the creature, Eshaz felt his own thoughts trying to penetrate and read the ancient mind of the podship, in a way that Tulyans could do with members of their own race, and with other galactic races. But this podship was not amenable to having its thoughts read. It was under the control of another entity, another galactic race.
The throb on the thick skin quickened just a little, and then slowed as the podship’s tiny but powerful Parvii pilot detected the alien intrusion and warded it off.
Feeling a deep sadness for millions of years past and what could never be recaptured, Eshaz withdrew his hand and moved closer to the stout Huluvian man ahead of him in line. Others joined the queue behind Eshaz. His joints and muscles were aching again, the condition that seemed to run parallel with the decline of Timeweb.
The old Tulyan set his personal discomfort aside. His thoughts drifted off.
Contrary to popular belief, the Mutatis were not the most important shapeshifters in the galaxy. Certainly, th
ey were the most numerous and caused the most trouble, especially for the Humans who were their mortal enemies. But they had a rival in the magical art of appearance modification, a race that was the glue of the galaxy, the podships that provided faster-than-light space travel to everyone at no charge.
Widely considered the greatest mystery in the cosmos, the pods were of uncertain origin and purpose. Even Tulyans, who knew the migration patterns of the whale-like creatures and had the ability to pilot them in ancient times, never discovered the spacefarers’ deepest, most profound secrets. Eshaz’s people were well aware of their shape-shifting abilities, however, the way the living, sentient Aopoddae were all of a similar blimp shape, but morphed the cellular structures of their interior spaces to provide compartments for passengers, complete with portholes, and even destination boards on the outsides of the hulls. The Tulyans knew, as well, how to reach the sectoid chamber at the core of each podship, where Eshaz’s kinsmen used to navigate the spacecraft, but which was now blocked to them by the superior powers of the Parviis.
A hatch opened in the hull of the podship, like a mouth on the side. The line began to move forward, and moments later Eshaz stepped aboard and took a seat on one of the utilitarian dark-gray benches. Looking around, he noted the features of the passenger compartment, the similarities and subtle differences in comparison with other pods … the patterns of gray-and-black streaks and pale yellow veins.
Passengers did not need any form of breathing apparatus, since the interior of the podship had an oxygen and nutrient-rich life support system generated by the mysterious biological workings of the creature—enabling different types of life forms to survive in their confines.
Most of the benches accommodated three passengers, but Eshaz was so large that there was only enough space for one tall, slender Vandurian to sit beside him. The two of them exchanged stiff glances, without words. Strangers usually didn’t talk at all during these voyages, and not just because of the shortness of the trips—only a few minutes to traverse vast distances of space. Instead, they were silent to a great extent because of the sense of awe and infinite, cosmic serenity that the podships inspired in their passengers. Some races revered the podships as godlike creatures, or as messengers of the Supreme Being, or even as incarnations of the Supreme Being.
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