The Timeweb Chronicles: Timeweb Trilogy Omnibus (42 page)

At random, he selected a podship speeding along the web, and zeroed in on it. His mind seeped inside, first into the passenger compartment and cargo hold, and then into the green, glowing navigation chamber at the core of the vessel. He saw a Parvii clinging to a wall there, guiding the ship along one galactic strand and another.

Focusing all of his mental energy, Noah tried to commandeer the ship, and for a moment he felt a mental linkage with the mysterious creature, though not as strong as he had experienced previously, with the other vessel. This time he caused the podship to slow, just a little. Then he felt increasing resistance, and noticed that the tiny humanoid had moved to another section of wall, a bright green patch.

The podship followed the Parvii’s commands now and disregarded Noah’s, no matter how much he tried. Finally giving up the effort to overcome the other pilot, Noah wondered how much his difficulty had to do with the remote connection, and if he had more power when he was actually on board a craft before attempting to pilot it.

Moments later, the podship pulled into a pod station and docked.

While passengers and small vessels unloaded from the ship, Noah again touched the core with his probing thoughts, and once more he experienced a mental linkage with the sentient creature. The Parvii resisted him as expected, but only briefly this time, before losing the battle.

I did it!
Noah thought.

He waited for the unloading to finish, but before any passengers or cargo could be loaded, he ordered the podship to close the entrance hatches and leave the dock. To his elation, these commands were followed. He then took the vessel out on the podways and guided it along one strand and another, as he pleased.

Eventually he let the connection go, and allowed the disturbed Parvii pilot to resume control.

During the next hour, Noah conducted additional experiments on other podships around the galaxy. In each case he found that he could not maintain control of a pod that was already in motion, but he could if the vessel was docked when he made the attempt.

Noah was gaining skills in Timeweb, like a child learning how to walk.

Chapter Eighty-Three

There are countless ways to destroy a foe … and to destroy yourself. You must take care that one does not lead to the other.

—Mutati Wisdom

Two Mutatis stood high inside one of the spires of the Citadel of Paradij, gazing out on the jeweled buildings of the capital city, the glittering colors in afternoon sunlight. One of the shapeshifters—the Zultan Abal Meshdi—was the more massive, though his son could not be considered petite.

In the time that had passed since the enemy attack on his Demolio manufacturing facility, the Zultan had restored the program. Now there were hundreds of doomsday machines, and they had been dispatched to strategic locations in the Mutati Kingdom and in other star systems, where their outriders had been told to await further instructions.

Those final commands would be sent via his new instantaneous cross-space communication system. Pursuant to the information received from the turncoat Giovanni Nehr, the Mutatis had established deep-shaft emerald mines on a number of planets, and had been harvesting the piezoelectric gems that were required for nehrcom transceivers.

The new communication program was ancillary to the overall doomsday plan, and would facilitate the obliteration of merchant prince planets. Meshdi could have distributed the deadly torpedoes without the instantaneous communication system, by sending outriders with predetermined attack schedules (as he had done in the past), but he had been waiting for instructions from God-on-High.

Finally, while inside his gyrodome the day before, the Zultan had been told what to do. The blessed Creator of the Galaxy had appeared to him, as if from a cosmic mist, and had commanded him to make Humans suffer by destroying them progressively—rather than all at once. But unknown to Meshdi, it had not really been a divine directive at all. Rather, it had been the result of psychic influences exerted by the Adurian gyrodome and minigyros—mechanisms that swayed his decisionmaking processes and caused him to preserve the most valuable merchant prince worlds, which the clandestine HibAdu Coalition wanted as prizes of war.

Abal Meshdi had been feeling disappointment all day, and had summoned his eldest son Hari’Adab to this private meeting, to discuss what to do next. Now the Zultan snapped his fingers, causing a clearplax door in front of them to slide open. He led the way out onto a balcony, and felt the floor flex under their combined weight.

“I wish you hadn’t asked for my advice this time,” the younger Mutati said. He placed three hands on the balcony railing, and gazed blankly out on the city. “You know how I feel about your Demolio program.”

“As my heir apparent, you must accept it anyway, just as I must accept the will of God-on-High. Each of us has our superior, you see, and we cannot alter what is meant to be, the natural order of affairs. If I had my way it would all be over quickly. I would attack every enemy world simultaneously, blasting them all to oblivion.” He paused. “Beyond oblivion, I hate Humans so much.”

Hari’Adab did not respond.

“We will annihilate them,” the Zultan said. He tasted the destructive word and smiled to himself, forming a tiny curvature of the mouth atop his impressive mountain of fat. Such a delicious, salivating sound to it.

“We will
annihilate
them!” he repeated.

“If I had my way, Father, I would negotiate with the merchant princes and form a lasting peace. Our militarism only generates more of the same by our opponents. I say this to you with all respect, My Zultan, for the ultimate decision is yours and I would not think to question it. I only offer my humble opinion.”

“I’ve heard that all before from you, Hari, and you would be wise not to press me further on that issue, considering how far you have to fall if I decide to tip you over the railing.” He grinned at his son, and caught an angry glance in return. Then Hari’Adab looked away and stared into the distance, as if wishing he could be anywhere else.

Shifting on his feet and feeling the balcony floor move again, Meshdi said, “Maybe I shouldn’t be so disappointed at the order from God-on-High. Perhaps it is for the best, after all. By inflicting anguish on our enemy in stages, we will strike more terror into their black little hearts. Think of it, Hari! They will know the end is coming without being able to stop it!”

Almost imperceptibly—but not quite—the young Emir shook his undersized head, but said nothing, obviously trying to show the proper respect for his elder, as required in Mutati society. Hari had, however, refused to wear the Adurian gyro that his father shipped to him. A proud young terramutati, he’d said that he did not need a mechanical device to help him make decisions. It had been another disappointment for Abal Meshdi, and he had been struggling to overcome it.

But at the thought of making his enemies suffer, the Zultan cheered up and trembled with excitement. “Let them scramble like ants from a fire, trying to save themselves,” he said. “It will do them no good.”

Chapter Eighty-Four

The symbiosis of man and machine. That may be the best way to describe my relationship with the robot leader.

—Noah Watanabe

In the weeks they had known one another, Noah and Thinker were developing a surprisingly close friendship, something neither of them had anticipated, since they seemed so different. This is not to say that they failed to notice one another’s faults. Early one morning as they ventured outside the tunnel complex, the robot commented that Noah had a tendency to be overly trustful of people he met, always trying to see the good in them, even if he had to struggle to do so.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Noah admitted, feeling the comfortable warmth of the sun on his face. “Essentially I’m an optimist, I suppose, looking for light instead of darkness.”

They walked a path that led into the canopa woods. The deciduous trees were in full leaf, deep green from the seasonal rains. As the forest embraced them, Noah felt secure, sheltered by its living force.

“Perhaps that’s how you got your environmental recovery company going,” Thinker said as he clanked along, “Pessimists aren’t usually successful.”

“I’m not much of a success any more,” Noah replied. “Hopefully some of my company is still operational, but I’m sure Francella and Lorenzo are scouring the galaxy, searching for anything associated with me.”

“But you have new friends,” Thinker said.

They paused at a clearing where gray-and-brown mushrooms grew, and Noah made his own observation in return. “I appreciate your loyalty, but I must say, you’re overly boastful and egotistical at times.”

“I don’t boast and I have no ego whatsoever,” Thinker said, “for those are Human frailties, and have nothing to do with machines.”

“We could argue that point for a long time, because I have seen signs of emotions in machines. Call them internal operating programs or whatever you want, but the result is the same.”

“It is possible to refute everything you say,” Thinker said.

“I’m sure you’re right.”

“As for your accusation about an ego, I simply tell the truth, and here is an example: I am the smartest sentient machine in the entire galaxy, with a virtually unlimited capacity for data absorption.”

“Speaking of that, do you recall our discussion a few days ago, when I found out that you were recording everything we said, and that you could play the data back?”

“Of course. I never forget anything.”

They scaled a steep, wooded hillside together. Noah knew the area well, and kept off the main trail to avoid detection. For a long while, he said nothing as they tramped along, and Thinker did not press him. The Guardian leader thought of Tesh’s proposal that they explore Timeweb together, and of the possibilities—and perils—this presented. Preliminary evidence suggested to Noah that he had become immortal, but as he considered this at length he had reservations. His own tests had been limited, and perhaps there was a way to kill him after all.

He cared little for his own personal safety, but his legacy was a different matter altogether. It had importance beyond the breaths he took and the beating of his heart. It meant something to the entire galaxy.

He smiled bitterly to himself as they approached the crest of the hill, where the trees thinned out and it was brighter. A short while ago, Noah had accused Thinker of being egotistical, but he had that fault himself. In a sense, though, and Noah hoped he had the right edge on it himself, an ego could be a good thing, for without it his word would mean a lot less to his followers and his message might not always be respected.

“Hold it,” Noah said, raising a hand.

Thinker went motionless beside him.

“Wait here,” Noah said. Keeping low, he crept ahead as silently as possible, avoiding sticks, making the minimum amount of noise possible. At the edge of the trees he peered beyond, toward a grassy expanse dotted with low trees and the doberock remains of a long-dead settlement. For several minutes he stood silently, scanning in all directions, listening intently to the calls of the birds and the sounds of the wind, until satisfied that it was safe to proceed. He wondered if weapons fire would erupt anyway, and if he could still heal himself, no matter the severity of the wounds.

Safety was only a matter of degree, he realized. Nothing was completely secure. If his entire cellular structure was destroyed, he might be rendered incapable of regenerating himself, thus leaving no mechanism for him to come back.

That is, if the renewal process actually worked that way, if it was a physical, cellular phenomenon. Or was it a form of miraculous recovery, a resurrection? He shivered at the thought. In any event, he could not conceal himself forever in the tunnels of Canopa, or here at the edge of the trees. He had to take risks.

That’s what life is all about
, he thought.

With a wave of his hand, Noah strode boldly out of the trees, onto the sunlit grass, which sloped gently upward. Thinker followed.

At the rock pile of a fallen-down building, “Noah said, “This is an ancient archaeological site, where the original inhabitants of Canopa once lived. It’s very spiritual here, a place where I like to think about important matters.”

“I simply fold into myself whenever I want to do that,” Thinker said. “Much more efficient.”

“Perhaps,” Noah agreed, “but efficiency is not always the best thing.”

“I must contemplate that,” the robot said. With a small clatter of metal he closed himself, folding neatly into a box. He did not move.

While waiting for him to return, Noah sat on an adjacent rock and recalled coming to this site not so long ago in terms of time, only a few months. So much had occurred since then that it seemed like much longer. The people he used to know were like specters from the past, like the phantoms of this long-dormant settlement.

Presently, Thinker folded open and said, “Efficiency is always best. You have made an inaccurate statement.”

“We’ll debate it another time, my friend. First, I want to ask you something about your data collection and playback system.”

“Do you want to see and hear something you said to me, perhaps information you are having trouble remembering?” Thinker asked. “I can put you on the screen right away.”

“No, it’s not that. Well, it is, but in a larger sense.” He hesitated. Then: “Can you dig into my memories, sort of like an archaeologist, and resurrect all of the events I’ve experienced? Things that occurred before I met you, and which you could not have recorded?”

“You have already made me the official historian of the Guardians. Now you wish me to be your own personal archivist as well?”

“Can you do it?”

“Possibly. I’ve been working on a method of interfacing with Humans, similar to the way I do it with my own kind, to download data. When Giovanni Nehr joined my army, it occurred to me that I had no way of analyzing the thoughts in his brain. Since then, I have come up with a method, and I even constructed the biotechnology to accomplish data transfer.”

He hesitated. “But I have encountered certain … internal programming obstacles. You might refer to them as moral issues. As a robot, I find that I do not feel comfortable forcing the probe on a human being, not even one who is ostensibly under my command. Humans created robots in the first place, before Hibbils ever got involved, and we honor that fact.”

“That’s a nice sentiment,” Noah said.

As if ashamed, the robot looked down with his metal-lidded eyes and added, “I fear that my researches have gone too far.”

“Could you transfer my thoughts without harming me?” Noah asked.

“Of course. All of my internal operating tests confirm this.”

“Then, what if I give you permission to download my memories?”

“You would permit yourself to be a guinea pig? Don’t you consider that dangerous?”

“Not at all,” Noah said. “I have supreme confidence in your abilities. And in your friendship.”

A tentacle snaked out of Thinker’s alloy head and hovered over Noah. “This is an organic interface,” the robot explained. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

Noah took a step back, and said, “I’ve been wondering if a mental replica of me could be made. As Guardian leader, I’ve been thinking about my own mortality, and I want to make sure my philosophy is imparted clearly to my followers, in case something happens to me. I have written a number of handbooks, but it would be nice to leave something more personal behind.”

“But you are still comparatively young, with much of your life to live.”

“I am a hunted, wanted man. And even if I weren’t, I’ve been doing dangerous things, guiding podships across the galaxy and the like.”

“Even so, I see great strength in you, an ability to survive and overcome great obstacles. You are no ordinary man, Noah Watanabe.”

“Perhaps not.” He looked up at the organic interface, with its array of needles, and shuddered. But he stepped forward, so that he was again directly beneath the tentacle head. “I’m ready,” he said. And he closed his eyes.

A moment later, Noah felt the tentacle connect to the top of his head, and needles of pain all over his skull. In a surge of panic, he wanted to pull away, but could not move. The sharp points of pain reminded him of stars in distant space, and how his own mind could expand into the cosmos and take incredible journeys.…

Thinker sent the probes deeper into Noah’s brain, and data began to flow into the machine’s computer brain, downloading every bit of information comprising Noah’s life, including not only his memories but the chemical makeup of his body. After several moments the robot withdrew, and Noah’s excruciating pain ceased.

“Now I know what you had for breakfast on your fifth birthday,” Thinker said.

Noah opened his eyes, squinted in the sunlight. “And that was?”

“A poached gooselet egg. You only ate half of it, and said you were full. Then you sneaked into another room and gorged yourself on a stash of candy.”

“I’d almost forgotten all that,” Noah said.

“What would you like me to do with the information? I can erase it, analyze it, or store it.”

“Store it,” Noah ordered. “I want you to keep a backup copy of me, and update it regularly.”

* * * * *

In his Canopa office, Pimyt considered the coded nehrcom message he had received within the hour, on a sheet of folded parchment. Enraged at the terrible news, he had been stomping around the room, muttering and cursing to himself.

On every merchant prince planet, the influential Hibbil had sent fake communiqués, ostensibly from the Doge. They had been passed through Jacopo Nehr and resulted in the dismantling of many Human military forces, and the positioning of others in out-of-the way locations without adequate armaments, thus rendering them useless. In addition, Hibbil officers were in key positions throughout the armed forces of the Merchant Prince Alliance, ready to take the necessary actions when ordered to do so.

My part of the plan is in perfect order
, he thought.

Disgusted, the covert agent kicked the parchment under his desk, trying to get it out of his sight. The problem had to do with the Adurian side of the conspiracy, the control they were supposed to be exerting over the Zultan Abal Meshdi and all military operations of the Mutati Kingdom.

Despite being under the influence of Adurian gyros, the Zultan had still dispatched an outrider to attack and destroy Timian One, the wealthiest of all merchant prince worlds. This was a big potential setback for the HibAdu Coalition, a planet-busting torpedo that could not be called back. Meshdi was supposed to send it against another fringe planet, not the MPA capital world!

Across much of the Mutati Kingdom, the Adurians had used gyro-manipulation to twist the thoughts of the Zultan and his minions, causing them to overlook certain military anomalies, such as the preponderance of Adurian officers in leadership positions. Gyro-manipulation had also been used to establish and carry out the essentially futile Demolio torpedo program, which had diverted Mutati military assets into dead ends and permitted the shapeshifters to destroy three Human fringe worlds that were of little value—Earth, Mars, and Plevin Four.

Now came this unexpected problem involving Timian One, which should never have happened, since the HibAdu Coalition wanted to preserve that valuable planet and others for their own uses after their great victory. Many of those worlds had important assets that the wealthy merchant princes had set up, and some had untapped natural resources, minerals that were only valuable to the Hibbils and the Adurians. They were supposed to be spoils of war.

To prevent further undesirable losses, the Adurians were making emergency adjustments to the signals being transmitted to Mutatis who used gyrodomes and portable gyros for decision-making. Pimyt hoped it worked.

* * * * *

Upon returning to the underground encampment, Noah found Tesh waiting for him, just inside the entrance. She rose from a rock where she had been sitting and said to him, “Well? Do you have an answer for me yet?”

“As a matter of fact I do,” Noah replied. “My friend and I had some business to take care of first.”

“I’m not asking where you were,” she said in an impertinent tone.

He looked at her calmly, while Thinker stood beside him.

“Your answer is no, isn’t it?” Tesh said.

“My answer may not be what you expect.” Noah smiled stiffly, then brushed by her and went toward the cafeteria.

“That’s all you have to say?” she yelled after him.

“Be ready to leave first thing in the morning,” Noah shouted.

“Did he say what I think he said?” Tesh asked, looking wide-eyed at Thinker.

“He answered yes,” the robot said. “I see no other alternative, even though I do not know the question. Perhaps you asked him to marry you, which is something Humans are known to do.”

“We’re not quite ready for that,” Tesh said.