“Manufacturing defect,” Ipsy said. “The stupid Hibbils left me in there. I only recently came back to awareness, and wondered what I was doing on your ship. Those Hibbils can’t do anything right.”
“He’s lying,” the biomachines said, in their eerie synchronization.
“Yes I am,” Ipsy said. “And you just narrowed my options down to one.”
He saw the look of alarm in Coreq’s bulbous, pale yellow eyes. But before the freak could move or issue a command, Ipsy transmitted a chain-reaction detonation program he had set up, electronic signals that surged into the vessel’s operating systems.
“Get him!” Coreq screamed. But it was too late.
“Now you’re going to die,” Ipsy said in a matter of fact tone. He felt a wonderful sensation of internal warmth come over him as his circuits heated up, and then set off the explosive charges. Only a limited detonation to start with, killing everyone on the command bridge, and keeping his own artificial consciousness alive, in the enclosure he had armored for it.
He heard a piercing scream that filled the flagship and surrounding space. It was Coreq, dying.
Moments later, the flagship blew up in a fireball that took two nearby vessels with it, and damaged twenty other lab-pods, causing them to drop out of formation. In the midst of the HibAdu armada, the event was hardly noticed by Liberator observers. To them, it looked like a relatively minor problem with the fleet, so inconsequential that it had no effect on the massive force. The armada kept going forward, past the floating debris.
* * * * *
“Data projection,” Thinker said. “The HibAdus would prefer not to destroy our fleet of natural podships, since they are superior to his in numerous ways. But his priority is complete military victory, and there are always some wild podships to be captured in space. His deadline is not a bluff.”
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Noah let go and the warm cellular material ran up his legs and thighs and waist, over the clothing and beneath it, covering him entirely up to his midsection. He felt a flood of data from the podship cocoon, flowing into his brain.
“Master Noah,” Thinker said, “are you sure this is wise?”
“I’m beyond going back,” Noah said.
Reaching down with his left hand, he immersed it in the thick fluid and felt it congeal around his Human bone structure. He immersed the other hand, and then let the malleable flesh rise over his torso, up to his neck.
Noah felt compression on his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe. He took deep, gasping breaths.
“Master Noah, are you all right?”
Without answering, Noah slid down into the flesh and flowed with it into the outer wall, where he began to swim. Behind him, he heard Thinker’s voice, but fading. Time and space seemed to disappear. Noah was in his own universe, swimming across vast distances of starless space.
In moments, he stood again. This time he was inside a new and combined sectoid chamber, glowing with an ancient green luminescence. He could move about freely inside the enclosure (which was at least five times larger than those of podships), and he felt confident that he could leave it if he wanted to do so. He was separate from the cocoon, but part of it at the same time. Just as every creature in the galaxy was linked, so too was he connected to this prehistoric life form that was both primitive and advanced.
He probed inward with his thoughts, seeking the information he so desperately needed. Then, in a wordless epiphany, he let go. Something this important did not depend on words, or even on an organized collection of data. The armored core that Thinker had been unable to access did not contain multiple bits of data.
It only contained one, and now Noah knew what it was, so simple and yet so complex.
Pressing his face against a wall of the sectoid chamber, he felt his own facial features enlarge and flow outward, so that he could be seen in bas-relief on the outside of the cocoon. But it was not a “man in the moon” appearance, and not like the reptilian faces that emerged from podship prows when Tulyans piloted them. Instead, Noah’s countenance was repeated many times all around the cocoon, as if each podship had assumed his features on its body. Through his own humanoid eyes now, he looked in all directions: to the farthest reaches of the galaxy, to the Parviis trying to gain control of the Liberator fleet, and to the advancing HibAdu armada, which was much closer than before, with glowing weapons ports on the warships, ready to fire.
Noah felt power building around him. Paradoxically, the Aopoddae were a peaceful race, but he realized now that they had access to a weapon beyond the scope of any others, and finally they were allowing him to use it. Higher and higher the energy built up around Noah until EcoStation became a brilliant green sun in space. Parviis and Tulyans had their telepathic weapons that could wreak great destruction, but this was potentially much, much more.
His eyes glowed the brightest of all, and beams of light shot from them on the sides facing the HibAdu ships, bathing the enemy armada in a wash of green. Then the ships detonated, in tidal waves of destruction that went through the entire fleet in great surges, until it was gone.
As Noah drew back, he felt himself shuddering. He had tapped into a source of galactic energy that might even reach the core of the entire universe. It was raw, primal, and volcanic. It simmered in his consciousness, waiting to explode. He could fire the primal weapon at will. The raw violence was awesome, simultaneously thrilling and horrifying to him. Again, he thought of the Francella element in his blood, and he wondered if his mind would hold together through all of its expansions and contractions, or if he would go completely mad and start destroying in all directions.
But his doubts lasted only a few nanoseconds. With his brain running at hyper speed, he didn’t have any more time to wonder about anything, or to worry. He only had time to respond.
Now he turned the powerful beams of light toward the Liberator fleet, where Parviis continued to scramble over the hulls of the ships, trying to get in. They were no longer veiling their appearances, and could be seen clearly as tiny humanoids. On the hulls of some vessels, Tulyan faces had disappeared, suggesting that the pilots had been overcome and Parviis had taken over. Increasingly he saw the reptilian prows diminish in number, and wherever this occurred, the ships moved away from the others and began to congregate. So far, this amounted to only a small portion of the fleet, perhaps five percent. But he could not allow it to continue.
Through his hyper-alert, organic connection to the cosmos, Noah figured out more possibilities than Thinker could ever imagine. He saw inside every podship in the Liberator fleet, to the individual battles for each craft, and to the mindlink that Tulyans were trying to use for their fellows, but which was much weaker away from the starcloud.
Remembering how he had originally lost the trust of podships because of his part in developing pod-killer guns for the merchant princes, Noah didn’t want to destroy any podships. He had something else in mind.
Focusing the energy beams precisely and governing their power, he detonated them inside the bodies of the attacking Parviis. Tiny green explosions went off inside his consciousness, and he sensed the anguish of his victims, heard their collective screams. And, as moments passed, he saw Tulyan faces reappear on every hull in the fleet. Secure again, the breakaway ships drew back together with the others.
Intentionally, Noah allowed the Eye of the Swarm and a small number of his followers to escape. Noah had always believed that every galactic race, even the supposedly most heinous, had redeeming qualities. The Mutatis had proven that, and he knew and loved one of the Parviis himself. She would be the mother of his child. Their baby would look like a Parvii, but would be a hybrid, not the same as the originals.
I am not about extermination, he thought. Despite all of the changes in which he was immersed, Noah Watanabe remained true to his core values. A deep sensation of fatigue came over him from tapping into the raw primal power, but he fought to overcome it. From somewhere, a reservoir of strength, he summone
d more energy.
Then, using his eyes like powerful searchlights to illuminate space, Noah scanned the vast expanse, questing. He sensed something else out there, more dangerous and destructive than HibAdus, Parviis, or even the crumbling galaxy.
Something he might not be able to stop.…
Chapter Seventy
Battles are never static. Even when they seem to be over, the tide can change.
—General Nirella del Velli
During the surprise Parvii attack, Tesh had fought for control of the flagship, trying to keep her own people from gaining entrance to the vessel. It was a battle within a battle, as the clustering humanoids tried to use neurotoxins to subdue the podship, and other ancient methods. Even with thousands of their tiny bodies all over Webdancer’s hull, they had faced a formidable task. Just one Parvii—Tesh—inside the sectoid chamber of the vessel could ward them all off, counteracting the toxins and keeping the Aopoddae creature under her sole control.
Then the equation had changed.
Woldn himself—the Eye of the Swarm—had joined the cluster on Webdancer. Tesh had sensed him out there, with his mind merging deeper into the others and dominating them more than ever. From his proximity and intense focus, powerful telepathic waves had slammed against Tesh’s sectoid chamber, like psychic battering rams. She’d fought back valiantly, but moment by moment she had been losing ground as the neurotoxins began to take effect on Webdancer and—soon thereafter—on her. Finally, the eager Parviis had streamed through openings they made in the flesh, like carpenter bees boring into soft wood.
Woldn and a handful of others had entered the inside the sectoid chamber with her, pushing her barely conscious form aside so that one of them could take over. Helpless to resist, she’d only been able to watch.
The Eye of the Swarm had kicked her. “Traitor!” he said. “We’ll show you what happens to traitors. But first, there is a battle to be won.”
He had become the new pilot himself, and guided Webdancer away to join other breakaway ships.
Suddenly, the sectoid chamber had glowed bright green, an unnatural condition that prevented Woldn from guiding the craft. Webdancer began to go in circles and loops, veering off into space.
“Let’s get out of here!” Woldn had exclaimed. “You too, Tesh.”
With that, he had swooped her up in a telepathic surge that flowed out and away from the ship and the battle.
“We’ve lost!” Woldn had said.
Unable to resist, Tesh had flown with the small group that left Webdancer—a few thousand individuals—bound for an unknown destination. She’d been caught up in their momentum, which suspended her independence. Curiously, Woldn was having difficulty sending telepathic commands to other Parviis in the swarms that had attacked other ships. Some of those Parviis followed Woldn’s small cluster, but others did not, and instead scattered into space in complete disarray.
Now as she flew on, Tesh absorbed psychic currents roiling from Woldn’s anger and determination to keep fighting back against all obstacles. Seeking to regain the old glories of his race, he would regroup. He would never give up. Everyone in the mini-swarm knew it, and Tesh felt considerable sympathy for them—and even for Woldn. She had never liked turning against her own people, but under the circumstances there had been no other choice. They had been wrong.
Tesh sensed increased anger focused on her—not only from the Parvii leader, but from the others linked to him. If Woldn permitted it, they could kill her. But he had something else in mind for her. What? She could not tell. Gradually, she was able to fall back to the rear of the group where it was a little more comfortable for her. But she could not pull away entirely, and swept forward with her unwanted companions.
Behind her, Tesh sensed something coming fast. Before she could turn to look, it swept her up and absorbed her.
Webdancer!
The vessel had come of its own volition, taking Anton, Nirella, and others with it. Tesh found herself inside the sectoid chamber, and within moments she was piloting the ship back to join the rest of the victorious Liberator fleet.
* * * * *
But the elation did not last long.
The moment Webdancer pulled back to join the other podships, Eshaz flew near and asked for an emergency meeting. His request was granted, and the two podships nudged against each other and opened their hatches, so that Eshaz and two other Tulyans could enter.
Through her connection to the podship, Tesh listened as the Tulyans strode heavily through the corridors of Webdancer and entered Doge Anton’s office. Tesh heard the voices of Anton and Nirella as they greeted them.
“Dire news,” Eshaz said. “We must depart for the starcloud immediately!”
“Another enemy,” one of the other Tulyans murmured. “Another enemy.”
Alarmed, Tesh left the sectoid chamber and hurried down the corridor in her tiny natural form, moving in a blur of speed along the walls. Then, so small that no one noticed her, she slipped through an opening beneath the door of Anton’s office and entered. It took her only a matter of seconds to get there, and she slipped inside. Then, scurrying up an interior corner like an insect, she became motionless, like the proverbial fly on the wall, eavesdropping.
The biggest Tulyan of the three, Eshaz, shifted uneasily on his feet. “Noah summoned us to the cocoon, and asked us to timesee. He’s been sensing a great danger, and wanted us to help him figure out what is happening.”
“I’ve heard of timeseeing?” Nirella said. “You’re saying it actually works?”
“We don’t talk about it much, but yes. It’s an ability a few Tulyans have to see aspects of the future,” Eshaz said. “We three are among the few capable of this, and I regret to inform you that we have no time to celebrate. A great and terrible thing approaches. We must leave immediately for the starcloud. It is safer there.”
“But what is it?” Nirella asked. “We’re victorious here. All of our enemies are vanquished.”
“All that you know about. We cannot say what is coming, only that it brings darkness with it, and the probable end of all that we know.”
“Darkness for all time,” the third Tulyan said.
“The end of the galaxy?” Anton said. “The decay can’t be stopped?”
“Something more,” Eshaz said. “We can’t determine what. Only that we must hurry.”
“I’m not going to question your judgment,” Anton said. “Or Noah’s. Nirella, notify the fleet we are departing for the Tulyan Starcloud. Without delay.”
She saluted and got on the comlink to set it up.
The Tulyans hurried away, and Tesh sped back to her sectoid chamber. Only a few minutes later, Noah Watanabe transported his cocoon, Webdancer, and most of the Andromeda division of the fleet back to the starcloud via the visualization method he had used previously—a method that he surmised must use the ultimate of galactic shortcuts. It was not quite instantaneous, but was close to it.
Then, in a matter of seconds, he sped back to the battlefield and signaled that he would escort the rest of the fleet—around sixty percent of the ships—to the starcloud via other podways, staying with them for the protective firepower he could offer. But, he worried, even that might not be enough.
Feeling great fatigue from tapping into the primal energy source, and with the continuing demands on his energy, Noah hoped he could find the strength to continue. Intermittently, he went through moments where he didn’t think he could. Then, he would feel bursts of energy that gave him just enough to keep going.
Now his cocoon and thousands of smaller podships split space in flashes of green light, in a frantic rush to escape an enemy that they could not see. For defensive purposes Noah remained at the rear of the pack, and through the Aopoddae linkages he transmitted details to the other podships about the best route for them to take.
As Noah zipped through space behind the others, he pressed his face against the wall of the cocoon’s sectoid chamber, peering in all directions through his m
any eyes in the hull, scanning, searching. Podflesh oozed around him in the chamber, a shallow pool of it.
The route he took involved some shortcuts between sectors, and they passed through regions where web conditions were barely adequate. Tulyan repair teams had already worked on some of these podways, and for the areas where breaks still existed, he went around. In a little over two hours, the group emerged from space just outside the Tulyan Starcloud, and made their way into the protective mists.
Just before entering the mindlink field himself, Noah paused briefly and scanned conditions in the galaxy, seeing far across space with his multiple eyes on the hull of the cocoon … eyes that enabled him to view the vast filigree of Timeweb and the farthest reaches of space. As he focused to do this, the cocoon glowed brilliant green, casting light far across the galaxy and even illuminating the distant Kandor Sector he had just left.
He detected a disturbing bulge there, in the paranormal fabric of the galaxy. Abruptly, strands of the galactic infrastructure ripped away, creating what looked like an immense timehole, covering the entire galactic sector. Around the galaxy he saw other bulges, and additional huge holes appeared. One of them sucked up Woldn and the remnants of his attack force, then closed again, like a fantastic cosmic mouth. Another took the entire Adurian homeworld to an unknown place … and he didn’t think it would ever return.
Then, where the Kandor Sector used to be, huge, dark shapes poured out of the hole and scrambled around on the podways, on multiple legs that scampered along the strands of Timeweb. Even with the illumination Noah cast on them, he could not distinguish details of their bodies—only that they were large, amorphous creatures that moved very quickly.
Viscerally, he knew this was the additional danger he had foreseen, but he had no idea what it was.
Chapter Seventy-One
Time spins its own web.
—Ancient Tulyan saying
Inside the ethereal mists of the starcloud, Noah communicated with the Council of Elders, this time using one of the comlink channels of the Liberators. Then, after making arrangements directly with First Elder Kre’n, he guided his cocoon to the immense inverted dome of the Council Chamber, which floated over Tulé, the largest Tulyan planet. The cocoon and the chamber were of equivalent sizes, but of very different configurations—and Noah’s was much more the organic of the two structures. He commanded the amalgamated Aopoddae to link to a docking station on the chamber.
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