In space several kilometers away, Doge Anton gathered the bulk of his podship force. There, Tesh did not feel the magnetic pull of the cocoon.
At a new command center for his own moored ships, Doge Anton and his closest advisers tried to assess the unusual situation. Tesh was asked to leave the sectoid chamber and join them in the main conference room of the flagship, along with Eshaz. No one sat. Instead, everyone stood anxiously near the windows, looking back at the space station, which was shifting into an amorphous shape, like a giant alien shapeshifter. Anton’s aides, Acey Zelk and Dux Hannah stood near him.
“At least three hundred ships are in that cocoon,” the Doge said. “We need to find out what’s happening, but I didn’t want to rush forward, endangering more of the fleet.”
“Subi Danvar is in there,” one of the officers said. “Noah’s right-hand man.”
“I’m worried about a HibAdu trick,” Anton said.
“It could be that,” Thinker said, “but my projections do not indicate they are capable of controlling podships in that manner. Obviously, the Aopoddae in the cocoon are linked mentally and physically, but for what purpose I cannot determine. One sign of hope: they are all caretaker Aopoddae, except for the ones Subi took in.”
Wrinkling his scaly brow, Eshaz said, “I’ve heard of them forming into cocoons in ancient days, but long before I was born. The reasons were varied.”
“And you were born almost a million years ago,” Tesh said, trying to envision how long that was. While speaking, she watched the cocoon in the distance. At first, she thought it had stopped morphing, then she wasn’t so sure. She thought she saw it move slightly.
“In the earliest days,” Eshaz said, “before my time, there were many unique dangers in space. For various reasons, to face different perils, the podships would form themselves into larger units—such as what you see here.”
“Could the cocoon be protecting something?” Doge Anton asked. “Could Noah be inside?”
“I’m hoping that’s the case,” Eshaz said. “Protecting important individuals and groups was one of the purposes of conglomerating, but by no means the only one.”
“We need to send an exploratory party,” Anton said.
“But any ship we send could just find itself merged into the others,” Tesh said. She spoke of the tugging sensation she had felt through Webdancer, and listened while other officers said they had received reports of the same thing.
“Something similar happened to us,” Eshaz then said. “In the thousands of ships I brought from the starcloud, my pilots all reported sensations of increased speed on the way, as if an unexpected, sustained wind had sped us to our destination. When we drew within visual range of the space station, we all felt a pull too, as you others have described. It was like magnetism, drawing us toward it. We kept away from the station, as Doge Anton commanded.”
“There seems to be an Aopoddae telepathic link that goes beyond the cocooned podships,” Anton said. “Far out into space.”
“I would like to accompany the exploration team,” Thinker said. “I am only a machine, so death is not a consideration.”
“You’re not just an ordinary machine,” Anton said. “But I do have multiple backup copies of your computer program, so we could rebuild you if necessary. All right. You’ll lead the investigating squad.”
The Doge then looked around, and spoke to one of the officers, a Kajor named J.B. Alcazar, “You coordinate it,” he said. “But no Humans go on the mission. Or Mutatis. I want you to use robots.”
“We machines could take that as an insult,” Thinker said, “but in this special instance we won’t. That’s why I volunteered. For Noah.”
“Don’t send another podship in, either,” Anton said. “Instead, use a shuttle.”
“Can we go?” Dux asked.
“You heard me,” the Doge said. “Robots only.” His tone offered no discussion.
“An armed shuttle?” Alcazar asked.
“I don’t see where firepower would do any good in this situation,” Anton said.
“I strongly suggest an unarmed shuttle,” Eshaz said, “and remove any smaller weapons that might be onboard. Deactivate all robotic weapons systems, too. You don’t want the podships to perceive any threat at all. In their cocoon state, they’re on high alert. The smallest thing could trigger a violent reaction. You’ve heard how individual podships react to forced entry, crushing intruders. It could be like that with the cocoon, but on a much larger scale.”
“Make it unarmed,” Anton said.
“One more thing,” Eshaz said. “At least one Tulyan should go with Thinker. Tulyans and podships have connections that no other races or machines can fathom.”
“All right,” the Doge said, after a moment’s consideration. “I suppose you’re volunteering, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“What about us?” Acey asked, looking at Eshaz for his support.
“Not this time,” Eshaz said. “We need experience and intellect, not youthful exuberance. Do not take that as an insult. It is just fact.”
Acey sulked away, but Tesh saw Dux nod in understanding.
* * * * *
Onboard the unarmed shuttle, Thinker at first went into a folded position, to focus on and contemplate the additional data he had been receiving. Standing beside him on the forward observation platform, Eshaz looked at the space station as it loomed larger and larger. On the gray-and-black skin he noticed a steady pulse, as if the cocoon was breathing in the airless void of space.
Presently, Thinker unfolded himself, after having been closed for only a couple of minutes.
Eshaz felt his own pulse quicken when they drew nearer and nearer to the strange amalgamation. As if in synchronicity, the throb of the cocoon increased as well.
A section of podship flesh parted, revealing a docking station beyond. But as he neared it, Eshaz saw that it was not part of the space station. Instead, it was Aopoddae flesh beyond, and docking connections like those he had seen on orbital pod stations.
In trepidation, Eshaz continued forward. He had no other choice.
* * * * *
Back when the HibAdu force first approached, Noah had originally assumed the worst, so over the orbiter’s communication channel he had ordered all Humans and Mutatis on the space station into an armored command chamber with him. From that windowless enclosure, Noah and the others had watched the battle on a holoscreen … the dramatic ebb and flow of combat.
When the HibAdus had seemed defeated, he’d watched on the projected screen as Subi Danvar’s podship connected to the space station, along with a score of others. In near space just beyond Subi’s ship, Noah had seen numerous unarmed caretaker podships—and he’d felt them reaching out to him wordlessly, assuring him that they would protect him and would even respond to his commands. Curiously, Aopoddae names and their biographical details had simultaneously surfaced in Noah’s consciousness, like objects bobbing up from deep in the ocean. One of the vessels had been the ancient spacefarer, Diminian, who dated back to the earliest days of the galaxy. Most of the others had been nearly as old. Noah found all of it intriguing.
With the battle apparently won, the Mutatis and Humans in the command chamber had streamed out, to greet Subi Danvar and the others. But Noah had remained behind by himself, feeling an odd sense of serenity and a need to be alone. Despite his own history, his part in developing the defensive pod-killer weapons on MPA pod stations, these podships no longer feared him at all. He was confident, as well, that the change went throughout the entire Aopoddae race.
Out in the airless battlefield, Noah had seen the debris of combat, including bodies floating in orbital space, and podships that he sensed were waiting for him to command them. Summoning his courage, he had reached out with the psychic tentacles of his mind and had drawn the sentient spacecraft in around the space station, where they had combined with the vessels of Subi and the others.…
Now Noah felt their protective layer,
their cocoon. In addition, he sensed a force far out in the cosmos, one that was separate from him, but one with him at the same moment. And, though he did not yet understand it, Noah knew that he could call upon it whenever he needed. At last, he had a degree of control over the paranormal elements around him. Or was that only his perception? How much—and what—did he really control?
These thoughts agitated him, so he withdrew from them, and floated in the troubled, cosmic sea of his mind.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
There is no safe place in this universe.
—Anonymous
From the armored chamber within the cocoon, Noah touched the new rough skin covering his legs and feet. Though he was still Human in all places where it showed to others, the hidden patches beneath his clothing had extended in the last few minutes, and tingled on the surface. He pulled his trousers back on, then slipped into his socks and shoes. He knew he looked normal, like the old Noah. But changes had a way of coming over him unpredictably.
His mind reached out into orbital space, to the battlefield where bodies and the debris of combat drifted. He saw a shuttle approaching—and looking inside, he knew who the passengers were, and that they were coming unarmed.
Eshaz and Thinker. Friends.
But he cautioned himself anyway. Relationships had a nasty habit of changing for the worse. Even Tesh, who cared about him deeply, had expressed concern over his strange powers—and that had been before this latest escalation. She was out there now at the fringe of the battlefield, in the sectoid chamber of Webdancer. Tesh and the others thought they were beyond the reach of Noah’s cocoon, but they were wrong.
Ever the optimist, Noah didn’t like to think of negative possibilities, but he knew he had to anyway. As his powers increased, he had to always be wary of people who might not understand them, and what he was going to do with them. Even Noah didn’t know what his powers were all about, or the extent of them. He was on a path going somewhere important, but he didn’t know the purpose of his journey or the destination. He only knew his own heart and instincts, and had to assume he would not betray them, no matter the physical form he took. It was one of the reasons he felt drawn to EcoStation. In a way that he could not put into words, the orbiter seemed to ground him emotionally and spiritually.
I am an eco-warrior, he thought.
From his earliest moments of consciousness as a small child, Noah had marveled at nature—at leaves, insects and birds, and the animals of the forest near his home on Canopa. He had noticed a symmetry, a regularity, and a beauty to the supposedly more primitive life forms in his immediate vicinity, and he had seen how this contrasted with the way Humans behaved. As a child, it had made him feel out of place and awkwardly conspicuous, as if the various life forms were watching him and ridiculing him.
It was from that core of early existence that Noah had stretched his thoughts as far as he could. In his teens he had come up with the concept of galactic ecology, the idea that remote star systems and planets were linked throughout the heavens and needed to be protected against the avarices and carelessness of Humans and other races.
For most of his life, he had been on an environmental quest, seeking to draw everything in the galaxy together and make perfect sense of it. With his newfound knowledge and powers, no matter how patchy or unpredictable they might be, he had an even greater desire than ever to understand the vastness and minutia of the cosmos, to find ultimate precision and faultlessness. Perfect sense out of chaos.
Bringing himself back to his immediate surroundings, to the augmented flesh that contained his enhanced mind, Noah knew with certainty that he needed to guard himself against all attacks, so that he could continue his incredibly important quest.
And ultimately, Noah fully understood—or sensed—that there were far greater life forms than his own. But he also sensed that not all of them would agree with his beliefs and desires. What if one or more of those outside entities were able to gain an influence over him? He thought that this might have already occurred, explaining to some degree the enhancements and powers he had been given. But he could not be certain. It might also be true that he was like a cosmic magnet, drawing talents and abilities to him so that he could complete his great quest, his galactic-scale mission.
Then, winding his thoughts back to his own Human form and his feelings that he had to protect himself against attack, Noah wondered if he felt this for himself—for his own interests—or if he was instead feeling this on behalf of some outside entity that was shaping him to its desires. Feeling no selfishness at all, he hoped an outside entity was not guiding him, and if it was, that things would turn out well. It seemed to him that Timeweb was a beneficial structure, and that the creator—or creators—of the galactic filigree were.…
He wasn’t sure if the word he had in mind was adequate. Virtuous. To be virtuous in the context he was considering it, taking actions for the benefit of the galaxy did not necessarily mean being kind. It could very well involve making difficult, even brutal, decisions.
As he analyzed his thoughts from different angles, Noah could not stand the idea of an outside entity controlling him, pushing him forward and possibly luring him into a trap or making him into a slave, perhaps even for eternity. He needed facts, explanations, but there were none. And now he was farther along on the course of physical and mental changes than ever before. Heading for where? The impetus for all of it was uncertain, as was so much more. He had to stay alert, had to look around the next corner and see what was there.
* * * * *
For all his vision, for all he was and all that he was becoming, Noah Watanabe had a paranormal blind spot that prevented him from seeing an immense timehole that was about to surface near him.
Inside the unseen timehole, in a starless void between two galaxies that was sealed on both ends, a powerful fleet of HibAdu lab-pods floated, with their crews in confusion. Minutes before, they had been far across the known galaxy, preparing to attack Canopa, the most powerful remaining Merchant Prince world. Then, just as they were about to emerge from space over Canopa in bursts of green light, they had found themselves somewhere else entirely, in an unknown, uncharted realm. And from that place they could not split space and travel on any galactic webbing, because no cosmic infrastructure existed there. They could only move under backup propulsion systems and send desperate, bewildered communications from ship to ship. The Hibbil and Adurian officers and soldiers didn’t know where they were, and couldn’t see—or go—beyond the confines of their dark prison.
Aboard the largest and most elegant ship in the HibAdu fleet, High Ruler Coreq sat in the midst of the mounting turmoil of his officers, saying nothing to them in his despair, and not even responding when they addressed him. It had been Coreq’s idea to attack Canopa, and to bask in the glory of certain victory. He had wanted to be there at the forefront, soaking it all in. So he had gone along on the mission, leaving Premier Enver and Warlord Tarix to run things on the Adurian homeworld while he was away.
From the beginning, when he first emerged from an Adurian laboratory, Coreq had known he had a calling that spanned every star system, that God in his perfect wisdom had created him and his two hybrid companions for a purpose. Now he sensed powerful forces at work around him, and that he had not been thwarted in his desire to attack Canopa. Instead, he had been guided in a different direction, toward a far more important target.
Absorbing his surroundings, feeling a sudden flow of energy, he directed his ships to fly in a specific direction that seemed upward to him, though such a direction did not really exist where he was. Nonetheless, he went up, until the fleet could go no further, until they seemed to bump into an unseen barrier.
As moments passed the barrier grew filmy, with faint lights visible beyond. Then the gossamer substance of the barricade faded entirely, and he saw stars beyond. His fleet surged through, and now he saw something else.
It was a large, amorphous shape, and a fleet of enemy warships beyond. Look
ing through a scope, he thought the bulky form almost looked like a giant podship with a mottled gray-and-black surface, but it was in a different configuration. He’d never seen anything like it, but he sensed an urgency to destroy it.
Without hesitation, Coreq gave the order to attack. Beside him, a newly-installed control panel displayed a series of multicolored lights, showing that it was ready to fire the warship’s weapons.
* * * * *
Noah had a brief vision, a burst of thought in which everything blew up around him and his body tumbled into a glowing green timehole. It only took a couple of moments for this to flash in his mind, and then he readied himself for action.
Extreme danger.
In his mind’s eye he saw the approaching HibAdu fleet, and finally saw the gaping, green void of the timehole beyond. All around him, he felt the urgency and collective panic of the podships. They shifted and thickened and hardened themselves, but Noah knew it would not be enough.
He also saw Webdancer and the rest of the Liberator fleet moving as they perceived the HibAdu threat. Doge Anton’s forces activated their weapons and rushed toward the cocooned space station. But they would not get there in time.
Precious seconds ticked by, and Noah looked farther, beyond anything that was happening here, or that might occur in this place. Now his far-seeing eye saw the Tulyan Starcloud and he longed to be there, as if it were a heavenly destination.
* * * * *
On the command bridge of the HibAdu flagship, an Adurian officer touched pressure pads on the weapon-control box to fire the high-energy space cannons. A tremendous volley went out, but from the wrong weapons, at the rear of the ship.
“You idiots!” Coreq shouted. “What are you doing?” He saw HibAdu war-pods behind his vessel explode into orange flowers of light, and other ships taking evasive action.
“Sir, we did everything right,” the officer insisted. He pointed. “Look, the panel is showing that we fired the forward cannons.”
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