For someone in Pimyt’s position, with so much riding on his shoulders, he could never allow that to happen. He was responsible for a major portion of the HibAdu plan, and it had to proceed without impediments. He was, in his own estimation, far more important to the cause than the pretentious Adurian Ambassador.
At that moment a telebeam message came in, and he activated his ring to open the connection. A bright red banner opened in the air, a holo image with white lettering on it:
News Bulletin: HibAdu Coalition makes surprise attacks against all Human and Mutati worlds. Defender Ships proved useless, due to sabotaged firing mechanisms on their artillery pieces. We also used signal-blocking devices to muzzle the defenders’ telebeam transmissions, so none of their emergency messages got out. All MPA worlds except for Canopa and Siriki have fallen, and all Mutati worlds except for Dij. Fighting rages for these last three planets.
Grinning from ear to furry ear, Pimyt linked the ring to a panel box on the wall, and transmitted the same banner—in much larger form—into the sky outside the tower building. Tonight, there would be dancing in the streets.
Chapter Seventeen
Any moment could be your last—individually and collectively.
—Eshaz, comment to Subi Danvar
At the head of the podship fleet, Webdancer plunged into the ethereal mists. Thousands of ships in the first wave followed her into the starcloud, while the balance of the fleet went into holding patterns in that galactic sector, awaiting instructions by comlink to proceed.
Noah sat solemnly on a hard bench in the passenger compartment. Looking up, he saw a blank white screen appear, covering the viewing window on the forward wall. Like a schoolteacher, the big Tulyan Eshaz stood near the screen, holding a black control device in one of his thick hands.
He activated the device, and the screen went on, showing multiple views of the starcloud planets—all showing throngs of Tulyans celebrating in the streets.
“Word has reached them that the fleet is returning,” Eshaz said, his voice and expression filled with pride. “After millions of years, we can once again return to our caretaking duties.”
“We’ve rescued the podships,” another Tulyan said. “Truly, this is a joyous occasion.”
But Noah felt a deep despondency, and a sense of foreboding. He knew something terrible was wrong, but couldn’t determine what it was. He was focused so far inward, questing and wanting answers, that events around him seemed as hazy as the mists of the starcloud. In a short while he disembarked the podship at the moorage basin and boarded a glax, self-propelled space platform. Tesh, Eshaz, Anton, Subi and a number of soldiers from the flagship accompanied him.
From the platform, the others stared in amazement at tens of thousands of podships moored around them in the pale mists. Like a small child, Tesh pressed her face up against the clearglax, for a closer view. Then she pulled back and looked at Noah. “As a galactic race,” she said, “the Aopoddae are known to date back even farther than the Tulyans … to the very origins of the galaxy.”
As Eshaz gazed out on the wide mooring area, he said in a reverent tone, “Some of these creatures are exactly the same pods that once transported us on our important maintenance and repair assignments, millions of years ago. The ancient podships are well-known from the oral history of my people. Each ship has a name and a historical record of accomplishments. Some of the most legendary pods are Spirok, Elo, Dahi, Thur, Riebu, Thees, Lody.” He pointed. “There! That one is Riebu!”
The one he designated had deep, rippled scars on its side, as if it had suffered the space equivalent of Moby Dick, and survived.
“Podships have mysterious life cycles,” Tesh said to Noah. “While many of them live almost eternally, that is not the case with all. Some die from accidents and diseases. Breeding is inconsistent. It goes in spurts, and then seems to stop entirely for centuries.”
“This is true,” Eshaz said. He looked at her thoughtfully. “Your people have had time to observe the creatures.”
She nodded, her expression growing sad.
Outside, a number of Tulyan pilots emerged from the podships, then stood atop the creatures and bowed their heads.
“An ancient ceremony,” Eshaz said, his voice choking with emotion. “These pilots have been reunited with their original podships, from long ago.”
At his side, Noah saw Tesh crying softly. He wiped the tears away from her cheeks, and kissed her tenderly.
“My feelings are complex,” she said. “Tears of joy for the Tulyans and their podships, but intense sorrow for my own people.”
“I understand,” Noah said, putting an arm around her.
“Why did it have to come to this?” she asked. Then she added quickly, “Of course, I already have the answer to that.”
In a comforting tone, Noah said, “I know it’s impossible to ask you not to feel distress. But Tesh, please don’t feel guilty for what you had to do. Maybe you’re like Meghina. Both of you were born to other races, but you each wanted to be Human. You are Human now, my darling.”
She smiled, but only a little. Her green eyes opened wide. “Well, almost Human, anyway. Cellular tests would say otherwise.”
“You and Meghina both look Human and act Human. It’s beyond cellular structures, beyond anything physical. It goes to your hearts.”
“Listening to you, I could almost imagine that any other differences are inconsequential.”
“They are.” He pulled her close, embraced her. It amazed him how the Parvii magnification system could make this tiny person seem much larger, in all respects. He wondered what the fate of her decimated race was, and knew she spent much more time thinking about that than he did.
Noah heard a low hum, and felt a gentle vibration at his feet. The glax platform shuttled them from the moorage basin toward the floating, inverted dome of the council chamber. After a few minutes, it nudged up against a docking module and locked into position. Glax double doors slid open, revealing the interior of an entrance deck that skirted the chamber.
A pair of Tulyans marched forward stiffly, dressed in green-and-gold uniforms. They each carried a cap. “Right this way, please,” the shorter of the reptilian men said, to Anton and Noah, as they stepped off the platform. “We are your escorts.” He bowed, then put his cap back on. “The Elders are extremely anxious to speak with you.”
“It is an emergency,” the other Tulyan said as he put on his own cap.
“What do you mean?” Doge Anton asked.
“I am not authorized to say.”
Noah felt a sense of foreboding.
Emerging from the gathered passengers, Eshaz said, “I’ll go with them. This doesn’t sound good.”
“As you wish.” The shorter escort led the way up a wide, travertine tile stairway, while Eshaz motioned for Tesh and Subi to join the group.
On the next level they hurried through an arched doorway, then over a wide bridge that crossed a reflecting pool. Well-dressed aliens of a variety of races were gathered in a reception area, talking in hushed tones. They looked angry. Noah noticed that other alien dignitaries were being led out of the council chamber, just beyond. None of them looked very happy.
The escorts led the small party into the immense council chamber, onto a clearglax floor that seemed to float on air, with the curvature of the inverted dome below, and the ethereal mists of the starcloud. Their footsteps echoed on the floor. The immense chamber was nearly empty, with no one in the rows of spectator seats, and a few last aliens being led out, despite their protestations.
Three stern-looking Tulyans sat in the center of a wide, curving bench.
“Something is terribly wrong,” Eshaz whispered to Noah. “Just three Elders, and no one in the visitor’s gallery. I have never seen anything like this before, and I have lived for a long time.”
The female Elder in the center looked down solemnly from the bench, and waited for the chamber to be sealed. Noah recognized her as First Elder Kre’n.
“We have very grave news, indeed,” she said.
Noah and his companions stared upward inquisitively. His feelings of foreboding intensified.
“Terrible tragedies on Human and Mutati worlds,” a much larger Elder on her left, Dabiggio, said. “Our operatives got messages off to us describing the disasters.”
“Web transmissions,” Kre’n said. “While we have had difficulties with them, due to galactic conditions, they remain more reliable than your nehrcoms.”
“Tragedies, disasters?” Anton asked. “What are you talking about?”
Kre’n scowled at him. “You don’t know? While you were away, didn’t you receive any nehrcom messages?”
“We’ve been in relay range for awhile now. Several reports came in, but nothing about any big problems.”
“Fake transmissions, I suspect. Every Human and Mutati planet has been attacked.”
Anton and Tesh gasped. Noah glowered, waiting for more information.
“The attackers cut off authentic nehrcom transmissions from all MPA planets,” Kre’n said. “It took them longer, but they also managed to cut off our web transmissions. We fear the worst for our operatives.”
“What the hell happened?” Anton demanded. “Who attacked us?”
“Hibbils and Adurians,” Dabiggio said. “The Human and Mutati empires are lost. Surprise assaults, with overwhelming force. We lost communication three hours ago, but at that time only Canopa and Siriki were holding out in the MPA, and the Mutatis only had Dij left.”
“My God!” Anton said.
“We have incontrovertible proof that the Hibbils and Adurians are in alliance.” the third Elder said.
Is this what I sensed? Noah wondered. “Hibbils and Adurians?” he asked. “How could that possibly be?”
Nodding solemnly, Kre’n said, “They call themselves the HibAdu Coalition. They must have been plotting the attacks for some time. Coordinated military assaults against all targets.”
“Traitors,” Tesh said. “What a bunch of sneaky bastards.”
Noah thought back, and again he remembered seeing Hibbil and Adurian soldiers in a Timeweb vision. He’d reported it to Doge Anton, but there had been no indication of the scope of the treachery, or the direction it might take. Noah also remembered now that Lorenzo had a Hibbil attaché named Pimyt. The last Noah heard, Lorenzo and Pimyt were in Noah’s former EcoStation, where the deposed doge was in exile.
The HibAdu Coalition, he thought in dismay, letting it seep in.
But his gut told him that wasn’t all he’d been sensing. There was something more than this dire military news, something even worse, and he couldn’t put a finger on it.
Kre’n raised a hand. “Bring the Mutatis in,” she said.
“The Mutatis?” Anton exclaimed. Obviously stunned, he exchanged nervous glances with Noah.
A side door burst open, and a large Mutati strutted in, wearing a purple-and-gold robe. He was accompanied by an entourage that included several uniformed military officers and a female shapeshifter—of the aerial variety—who flew beside him.
“Meet the Emir Hari’Adab,” Kre’n said, “ruler of the Mutati Kingdom.”
Chapter Eighteen
If you look hard enough, there are always surprises in this universe.
—Tulyan Wisdom
Inside the inverted, floating dome of the Council Chamber, Hari’Adab addressed the small gathering, choosing to emit synchronized, pulsing sounds from his puckish little mouth. It was not an orifice that had been part of his natural-born state, but was instead something he had improvised (and varied slightly from time to time) when he became old enough to care about his appearance. Now, dressed in a flowing robe that cascaded over his mounds of fat, the Emir paced in front of the wide council bench.
“Since you know my name and I know some of yours, allow me to introduce two of my companions.” He motioned back to the aeromutati who stood off to one side, just behind him. “This is Parais d’Olor, the gentlest of all Mutatis, a person who brings peace to my heart.”
He nodded somberly in her direction, then looked back to the other side, where Kajor Yerto Bhaleen stood with military erectness. After introducing him by title and name, he said, “Yerto is the highest officer in the Military High Command. He gives me advice in matters of war. But he knows, and fully understands, that I seek peace as the highest priority of my people.”
Noting skepticism on the faces of Doge Anton and Noah Watanabe, he gazed at them with oval, bright black eyes and said, “The Elders told me of your tremendous military victory over the Parviis. Unfortunately, while you were occupied with that, the Merchant Prince Alliance and the Mutati Kingdom fell to conquerors.”
The Humans glared at him. Then Anton responded, “Between us, we may have three planets left. Whatever the case, we will fight back.”
Beside them, a large Tulyan and a Human-looking woman watched Hari warily. The young Emir, with a racial ability to detect subtle details of physical appearance, noticed immediately that the female was not really Human, but had altered her appearance to look that way. She was not, however, a Mutati. What was she, then? Wondering if her companions knew of her secret identity, the Emir decided she would bear close watching. That one could be dangerous.
In a careful tone, he said, “We each have our own terrible burdens to bear, Doge Anton. And we must face reality. Our peoples need to put our wasteful, ancient feud to rest.”
“Mutatis have never shown us anything but aggression,” Anton said, with a glower.
“That will change, now that I am in charge. The old ways have not been productive or kind to anyone, so I refuse to continue them. Over the centuries, billions and billions of Mutatis and Humans have died due to our ongoing wars. It makes no sense.”
“War is the biggest polluter of all,” Noah said, somberly.
“Ah, yes, the famous galactic ecologist. I have heard many things about you, Mr. Watanabe. My father used to speak of you derisively, but he and I never agreed on much of anything.” The Emir smiled, but it didn’t hold, and tears began to stream down his face.
In a halting tone, as if hardly able to utter the words, Hari’Adab told of the horrendous error Zad Qato had made in the trajectory calculations on a Demolio shot, and how it had destroyed the beautiful Mutati homeworld of Paradij, killing all of its populace. Billions of lives lost due to one miscalculation. As he spoke he trembled, and tears streamed down his face. “I, I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his face.
The big Tulyan stepped closer to Hari. “I am Eshaz,” he said. “Do not be alarmed, but I must make skin contact with you. Is the back of your neck all right?”
“The truthing touch.” Hari looked up at the seated Elders. “But they have already done this to me, to Parais, and all of the other Mutatis with me. They have also done the same with HibAdu prisoners we turned over to them.”
The Tulyan hesitated, looked to his superiors for guidance.
“Go ahead,” First Elder Kre’n said to Eshaz. “You are especially gifted in this area. Perhaps you will find something we missed.”
Eshaz touched the back of Hari’s neck, and the Emir felt the coarseness of the reptilian hand on his skin. It remained there for only a few moments, before Eshaz withdrew and announced, “He is being honest with us. The shapeshifter leader bears us no ill will, and he intends to take the Mutati people in a new direction.”
“If he can save the remains of his race, of course,” the peculiar woman said.
Hari nodded, trying to be dispassionate.
“We were aware of the loss of your homeworld,” Noah said.
“Oh? How?”
“I have certain … um, paranormal … abilities that permit me to peer into the universe from time to time. Where Paradij used to be, I saw only a debris field floating in space. I did not, however, know how it happened, or why.”
“It has been said that we live in a universe of magic,” Hari said. “You are, perhaps, one of the primary examples of that.”
“And an entire race of shapeshifters is another,” the woman said.
“And you are?” Hari asked, in his most polite tone.
“Tesh Kori. I’ve noticed you looking at me strangely. Is there a particular reason for that?”
“Maybe it is a defect of my personality. If I have offended you, I apologize most sincerely.”
“It’s not that, not at all.” She exchanged glances with Eshaz, then added, “You have discerned something about me. Please, share with everyone here what it is.”
“Are you certain you want me to do that?” Hari looked around at the Humans and Tulyans in the great chamber.
“I have nothing to hide from them. These are my friends. And if Eshaz’s report on you is correct, you might become one of them yourself.”
“We shall see about that.” He smiled. “For one thing, I see that you are a woman of considerable charm. In my experience, I must tell you that charming people are to be watched more closely than others.”
“Because they can be manipulative, you mean?” she said, looking past him at Parais d’Olor.
“Precisely.”
She lifted her chin haughtily. “And you have come all the way from the Mutati Kingdom to warn everyone about me?”
Laughter echoed around the large chamber, from the Elders and from her own companions.
Maintaining his composure, Hari said, “Madam, I would have said nothing about anything I might have noticed, but you have pressed me to speak. Very well, you are not what you appear to be. By that, I mean, you are not Human.”
“She’s a Parvii, and we all know it,” Eshaz said. “Do you think we didn’t achieve full openness with her, just as we have verified from you?”
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