Webdancers

by Brian Herbert

  Am I truly the Savior they speak of in Tulyan legends?

  He still did not think so, though he had no evidence one way or the other. Noah suspected, however, that it was not a provable thing, that it might be argued one way or the other.

  Maybe I’m just helping the Tulyans save themselves. Maybe they are their own Savior, in a collective sense.

  Gods and prophets—they didn’t have to be what they were commonly believed to be in Noah’s opinion, did have to look like their universal depictions. As just two examples among many, he doubted if he would ever see (in any form of sight that he possessed) a bearded old man in the sky or angels with wings. Maybe the supreme deity was more of a collective entity that stretched across the cosmos, like Noah’s own concept of galactic ecology.

  And, though Noah did not consider himself the center of the universe or even the galaxy, he nonetheless saw himself as the hub of something, with those concentric circles around him, radiating outward. At last, he could enter and leave Timeweb of his own volition. This enabled him to remain connected to the galactic web, and to the podship flesh he was touching now.

  At his fingertips, Noah felt his own energy flowing outward into the amalgamated Aopoddae flesh, probing all of the arteries, organs, and cells that made up the ancient creatures. They were so complex, and yet so primitive. It made him realize how far afield many of the galactic races had gone with all of their details and complexities, all of their branched-out, hedonistic, disoriented priorities that caused them to wreak such havoc on the galaxy.

  He saw that the battle-injured portions of the cocoon had not yet completely healed themselves, that their connection to their brethren and to Timeweb had helped them, but had not been quite enough. And it never would be enough without his involvement.

  Noah didn’t hold anything back from the Aopoddae. He allowed his energy to flow into the primitive flesh, as if he was Timeweb himself, providing healing nutrients to injured creatures. Once, Eshaz had done that for him, and Noah had made a miraculous recovery. Now, moment-by-moment, the alien flesh of the cocoon fused and healed at an accelerated rate. All the while, Noah probed and tested carefully, and perfected the cellular repairs. There was no question of trust anymore, no doubts of any kind from the Aopoddae about Noah’s motivations. No fear of him. They needed him, and he needed them. It was a symbiotic relationship of extraordinary proportions.

  He realized as well that the cocoon protected not only himself, but EcoStation. If Noah’s plan unfolded for the space station, the enhanced facility would become an inspiration for all galactic races, a beacon of hope and more of a teaching facility for ecology than he had ever envisioned before.

  Noah felt the podship skin tremble against his own flesh, as the cocoon anticipated what he was going to do next. He allowed the strengthened energy of the cocoon to flow back into him. Noah had healed the collective creature, and at this moment—in its fortified form—he anticipated that it would return the favor. Ultimately, Noah knew he was much more than a human being—physically and spiritually—and he sensed that the Aopoddae could guide him, could enable him to discover the path he should take with his remarkable life, and perhaps give him the tools that he needed.

  The inflow was tremendous, and he struggled to absorb it and comprehend. Much of the new Aopoddae data, the vast majority of it, was indecipherable to him. But a limited amount of information, as if passing through a filter system from the Aopoddae language to something he could understand, reached his consciousness.

  Noah realized that he was all of the galactic races, inextricably linked to them. He saw the history of sentient life as multiple paths spreading out in his wake, and found the broad routes he had taken in his own genetic history and life that brought him to this exact place and awareness. Countless other events could have occurred instead, events that would have prevented Noah from ever existing, or from ever being needed at all. Events that would not have led to the state of galactic decay in which everyone now found themselves trapped.

  And, though Noah could not see the future with any degree of certainty, he was able to envision multiple paths of unfolding galactic possibilities extending into future time, radiating outward from him. He could only try to nudge the various races to take the proper paths. He could never force them to do so.

  Opening the synapses and paranormal elements of his mind, as if they were pores that he was unplugging, Noah tried to let more data flow in, everything the podships knew. He hungered for all of it. In response an overwhelming surge of additional information flowed in, a tidal wave of data—much of it in raw, indecipherable form.

  Pain!

  It was too much, too fast, and the Aopoddae didn’t seem to realize it. Or did they? Were they trying to kill him? Was that a last bit of data they would inject into him through the connection? Their confession of guilt, or even a gloating?

  He screamed from the unbearable pain. It was not just physical. It went way beyond that.

  Parallel realities surrounded him, like the concentric circles. In one of them, he realized that he had fallen to his knees, and that he was still trying to maintain physical contact with the Aopoddae cocoon. In his agony he lost contact, and slumped to the deck.

  * * * * *

  Noah became aware of needles in his brain, and of data flowing outward, like something removing poisons from his body. Bringing him back from the brink, rescuing him from his foolishness.

  Opening his eyes, he saw Thinker kneeling over him, with a tentacle containing an array of needles linking the robot to Noah’s skull. An organic interface, Noah realized. The robot had used it on him previously, to download information on Noah’s life and genetics. Now he was doing it again, but for a different purpose. Gradually, Noah began to feel better.

  “You saved my life,” Noah said, as the pain faded. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Perhaps not,” Thinker said. “As we speak, I am analyzing limited elements of the Aopoddae information, even as it is being downloaded into my data banks and sorted. Contrary to your suspicion, the podships did not wish to do you harm. They made a decision that you could handle the flood of information, and that you would heal mentally from any adverse effects of it—just as you have proven yourself able to recover from physical injuries.”

  “But you had to intervene.”

  “Because I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t think I caused any damage, and you can certainly reconnect to them and get the data again. However, I have an alternative that might be of use to you.”

  The robot disconnected the interface, and it snaked back into his metal body. Noah sat up on the deck, noticed that his hands were different, entirely gray and rough-surfaced now, with veins of black. He felt his face. It had changed as well. He felt ready for the complete metamorphosis. The time had arrived.

  “What alternative?” Noah asked.

  “I expected you would ask,” Thinker said. He straightened, looked down at Noah. “Consider me your portable backup. I can adjust the interface, enabling you to search through my data banks at will, making the Aopoddae information available to you in a more palatable form.”

  “An intriguing offer,” Noah said. “Yes, I want you to do that.”

  “I hasten to add, however, that most of the data is incomprehensible, even to me.”

  “I found the same thing. If that is true, though, how can you be certain they don’t want to do me harm?”

  “Good question. My only answer beyond what they have revealed to us is that I do not sense they have aggressive intentions toward you. I know, however, that my instincts in this regard are only programmed into me, and thus are by definition inferior to yours.”

  “I sense the same thing. The Aopoddae are essentially gentle souls, but dangerous when threatened, if they perceive enemies. Once, they considered me a possible enemy, but that has since been worked out between us. You notice I said between. I believe they are a single organism, a collective organism.”

  “Each species, e
ach race is like that,” Thinker noted. “I think you’re saying that the Aopoddae are more closely linked to one another than other galactic races are?”

  “That is my belief, but I also believe, in my heart of hearts, that all sentient life forms in the galaxy are ultimately linked. It is a matter of definitions and semantics, and of filters on our thought processes. But it makes sense to me. It’s tied to galactic ecology, to the interdependence of all matter in the galaxy, whether sentient or not.”

  “And tied to the concept of God.”

  “Not a typical comment for a robot,” Noah said, with a gentle smile.

  “I am not your typical robot.”

  “No, you aren’t.”

  “I will run decryption programs on the Aopoddae raw data and see what more I can discover. It will not be easy, but … Hmmm, just a moment, please.” Thinker whirred, and his body jerked, as if in pain. Noah heard something clank inside the mechanism.

  Presently, however, the orange lights on the robot’s faceplate blinked cheerily, and he announced, “I was overloading too, but I connected to a series of reserve memory cores. It is better now.”

  “There is probably more that we didn’t absorb yet,” Noah said. “I broke off the connection.”

  “Based upon what I’m seeing, Master Noah, I think we’d better try to figure out what we have first before obtaining more.”

  Noah nodded.

  Thinker blinked his metal-lidded eyes. “Why don’t we work with the information, sir, and see if we can handle it more safely? Maybe the Aopoddae didn’t properly anticipate the danger to you, and we should set up safeguards.”

  “As usual, your wisdom is impeccable, my friend.”

  Rising to his feet, Noah looked down at his hands again. Podship skin. In a reflected metal surface of the chamber he saw the like changed in his face. He still saw the old Noah in the features, but they were distorted, an amalgam of his Human past and his evolving future.

  I am unlike any other creature in the history of the galaxy, he thought.

  It was a portion of the Aopoddae data that he had understood, and had retained in his mind. People had thought this before about him, and so had Noah. But none of them had anticipated the degree or scale of the phenomenon, and the continuing changes Noah was undergoing. He suspected that he had not yet reached his final stage of evolution, and that he might continue to metamorphose over the course of an eternal lifetime, without ever reaching stasis.

  He found it fantastically exciting, and terrifying at the same time.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Each life form in this universe—even those that seem most injurious to others—appears for a purpose. It may not always be easy to ascertain that purpose, but if you really search for it—if you drill down—you will find it.

  —Master Noah Watanabe, early notes on ecology

  The planet was giving birth, but not to its own kind.

  Billions of tiny creatures flowed out of lava tubes and swarmed as thick as locusts over Ignem, covering the glassy surface of the world so that it absorbed hardly any light at all. It took on a dull, lifeless appearance, but would recover its jewel-like glitter soon. Woldn did not intend to remain there for long.

  Now he led the newborns in maneuvers over the remote planetscape, training and molding them telepathically so that they learned to function under the collective mind of one: that of The Eye of the Swarm. These were simple, preliminary exercises, which most of the Parviis picked up quickly. Some of the individuals straggled as they learned a little slower than the bulk of the others, but within an hour Woldn had them in line, as well.

  Utilizing secret methods they had stolen from the Adurian laboratories, Woldn’s breeding specialists had instituted the most massive reproduction program in the long history of the Parvii race. The gestation period in the lava tubes was comparable to the traditional method, but the warmth in the tubes and other conditions enabled the breeding specialists to generate exponentially more individuals from the same batch of raw genetic material.

  This was a dramatic change from the old days and methods, where there had been distinct limitations. That had not mattered so much in the past, though, because the swarm had always maintained its population equilibrium, and the intermittent infusion of relatively small number of births had been adequate. In those days, only Parvii leaders and specialists had known the number of their brethren, but it had been vast. Now his race was on the road to recovery. In this batch alone, he counted more than eight hundred and fifty billion individuals. More than enough for what he had in mind.

  In the new method, the maturation period following birth would be the same: only a matter of weeks to reach adulthood. During that time, they would be trained here and out in space, building up to increasingly complex maneuvers and techniques. For the next stage, he summoned the war priests.

  Vorlik and Yurtii arrived in a matter of moments, having already been with the breeding specialists on Ignem, where they had been watching the progress of the breeding program. Man and boy respectively, they wore the black robes of their cult, raiments that were actually projections around their bodies.

  Flying beside Woldn, Vorlik down on the hovering, waiting swarm. “The breeding specialists report that some of our youngsters already have potent neurotoxin stingers and show excellent potential for working with each other to fire telepathic weapons. They also appear to fly well for their age.”

  “Yes,” Woldn said. “I am always wary of anything new, however. In due course, we will take them out into space and assess their capabilities in capturing podships. I’m worried about training them properly. Natural podships and the artificial lab-pods created by the Adurians could present different challenges.”

  “But it is especially important for us to test our young swarms in combat. The stresses of warfare will sort the weak from the strong. With our new breeding process, we can replace the losses quickly.”

  “Perhaps you are right,” Woldn said.

  “I disagree,” the hairless Yurtii said. “I am worried about the capabilities of these swarms. Especially considering how these individuals were bred. It occurs to me now that we might have been lured into the Adurian laboratory so that we would adopt their breeding methods and create Parviis that would one day turn against us.”

  “Too bad you didn’t think of that earlier,” Vorlik said with a scowl.

  Below them, the naked individuals clustered in groups according to their skin tones, forming divisions in which they were more comfortable. For the time being, Woldn permitted it, because he knew they were still insecure in their extreme youth. But as they grew, he would separate them more and more, so that color tones would no longer matter to them at all.

  “If need be, I could put all of these to death in an instant,” Woldn said. “But I have probed them myself—individually and collectively—and there is nothing to raise any alarm signals.” He looked at Yurtii and smiled stiffly. “So far, that is. You are right to raise a voice of caution, but I agree with Vorlik that we must test the swarms in combat as soon as possible.”

  “In war it is necessary to take chances,” Vorlik said. “That is how wars are won.”

  “And lost,” Yurtii said.

  Vorlik frowned. “I’m talking about calculated risks, professionally assessed. Don’t tell me you don’t know what I mean, Yurtii. In your time, you took chances, and achieved military victories. You could have been even greater, though, if you had been more bold and daring.”

  “Like yourself?”

  “Of course.” The mature, stocky man beamed proudly, and Woldn knew he had every right to do so.

  But Yurtii still had points to make. “Admittedly, your historical achievements were greater than mine, because you were largely responsible for defeating the Tulyans and taking the podships away from them. However, your quick, glamorous victories in the Tulyan War cannot be compared with the obstacles I had to overcome. My later war in the Far Sector involved complexities that you did not face
. We each faced different times, differing challenges and conditions. In retrospect, I came to the opinion that I should have proceeded even more carefully than I did on some of my military campaigns. The enemy was resourceful, laid traps for me. I still defeated them, but it was not easy.”

  “We are an apple and an orange, you and I,” Vorlik said. “To borrow a Human phrase.”

  “No,” Woldn said. “You are each of the same ilk, but display different aspects of it from your particular experiences. This is a good balance. I will listen to both of you equally, and render my decisions.”

  “As you wish,” Vorlik said, though he did not look entirely pleased. Given enough provocation, he might even kill Yurtii. But with his own telepathic control over both of them, Woldn knew that should not happen. And even on the remote chance that it did, Vorlik would never get away with it. Already, the breeding specialists had discovered new war-priest latents, and nascent breeding specialists.

  Everyone can be replaced and will be replaced if necessary, Woldn thought. Even me.

  He dispatched the two war priests to perform their training-instruction duties, and notified the swarm to follow them. Then he watched as Vorlik and Yurtii divided the swarm into ten divisions and caused their bodies to change color, so that all of them appeared to wear pale blue uniforms. Soon the war priests were leading the first two divisions in basic war maneuvers, swoops and streaks of pale blue that went this way and that over the planet, sometimes blocking the sun, and sometimes allowing it to glint off Ignem’s glassy surface.

  In a short time, many of the trainees changed in color to purple, proof that they had perfected the first phase of their studies. He saw the light blue swarms shift increasingly in hue as the most advanced individuals contributed to the whole and melded themselves into it in the Parvii way. Soon there were two purple divisions, and the war priests began to work with the other divisions, bringing them up to the same standard.

  It was still early in their training. Purple would not be their ultimate color. That would be a bright red, suitable for a military force since it was the most common color of blood among the galactic races. Already the young Parviis were displaying significant improvements in style and technique, and soon they could constitute a formidable fighting force.