Timeweb Trilogy Omnibus (172 page)

“But I pulverized her into dust,” the dream-Noah said.

“All things arise from dust,” Kre’n said, in an ancient voice. “You know that. It’s why you swept the particles into that timehole.”

“Yes.”

An additional worry occurred to Noah, and he was about to ask Kre’n about it when he saw a vast timehole open up behind her, encompassing half the galaxy. Out of that hole came the Web Spinners—more than he had ever seen before. So many that they reminded him of a Parvii swarm, but in nightmarish proportions. They swept through the image of Kre’n, scattering her into particles that drifted away. The dark creatures coalesced and grew more compact, and where Kre’n’s face had been, another appeared.

Is this real or imagined?
he wondered, struggling unsuccessfully to awaken, to free himself of the visions.

The Queen of the Undergalaxy smiled at Noah, but her faceted face was not like before. This time it bore the countenance of Tesh Kori, and in her swollen abdomen grew the child they had conceived.

“You are the God of the Undergalaxy,” she said, “and I have guided you to your true purpose.”

Noah cried out, but felt his scream absorbed into the noiseless void of the universe. No one heard him, and no one could help him. Not against something like this.

Awakening in a sweat, Noah found that someone had placed a thick blanket over him. He pushed it off, and lay there on the deck dripping with perspiration, trying to shake off memories of the nightmare. It had seemed so real. At least he was still lying in the classroom module where he had gone to sleep. That gave him a sense of continuity, that the visions had not been real, or even Timeweb excursions.

At the sound of voices, he looked and saw Thinker standing in the doorway of the chamber, speaking in low tones to another robot out in the corridor.

Presently, Thinker whirred into the room and said, “You look much better, Master Noah.”

Noah rose to his feet, half expecting to still have sore muscles. But he didn’t, and he understood why. The cocoon had transmitted Timeweb nutrients into him, and he felt totally energized again.

“How long did I sleep?” he asked.

“Three days. I’ll bet you’re hungry.”

“Not really.”

“You’ve been through a terrible ordeal,” Thinker said. “All of us have, but you’ve had it the worst. By far.”

All of the losses deeply saddened Noah, and particularly that of Eshaz, who had given his life so valiantly in the climactic battle. But the outcome of the horrific series of escalating dangers had been favorable. Eshaz would have said it was worth it.

Moments later, Tesh ran into the room. “Darling!” she said. “I’m so proud of you. How are you feeling?”

“Quite rested.”

“Good. Despite what you said to Thinker, we took the liberty of having a doctor check your vital signs and administer fluids to you intravenously.”

He nodded, but didn’t know if that had been necessary. He had other connections.

She gave him a long, lingering kiss. Then, with a broad smile, she reached up to touch the grayish, alien skin on his mouth.

“Is my face a little rough?” he asked.

“A girl can get used to it.”

“Just for you, I could revert to my Human appearance … at least for kissing.”

“No. This is the way you are meant to look, and this is the way I love you now.” She placed a hand on her own stomach, which was beginning to show her pregnancy. “I wonder what our little one will look like.”

The reality cast aside the bad dreams. Noah remembered what Tesh had told him earlier, that the baby passing through her birth canal would be tiny, the size of a Parvii. “When you say ‘little one,’ Tesh, you really mean it, don’t you?”

“Big things come in small packages,” she said.

“You’re evidence of that.”

“And you, too, Noah. How you accomplished so much, I don’t think any of us will ever understand. We all saw portions of it firsthand, and we’ve seen the reports from Tulyan survey teams and robotic data banks. It’s truly astounding.”

A voice came from the direction of the corridor. “But the galaxy is not perfect.” First Elder Kre’n strode heavily into the chamber, followed by Dabiggio and two other Elders.

“We have reports of weak infrastructure in a number of sectors,” Kre’n said. “Nothing major and no new timeholes—at least not yet—but they are matters that need expert attention. We’ve dispatched caretaking teams.”

“I was only able to work with the existing infrastructure material,” Noah said. “It seems that the Creator designed it with inherent flaws, thus necessitating regular maintenance.” He smiled. “Sounds like job security for you folks.”

“You could override us and continue to perform the repairs yourself,” Dabiggio said.

“Perhaps, but the energy requirements would be immense and wasteful, potentially throwing off the natural balances. I hope I haven’t already done that, but there were no options. Now I think it is far better to return to the old ways, to the ancient systems that were set up by someone far greater than any of us.”

“Humility looks good on you,” Dabiggio said. Uncharacteristically, the towering Tulyan smiled.

“Thanks, but it’s a suit of clothes everyone should wear,” Noah said.

He grinned as several of his other friends entered the chamber—Doge Anton, General Nirella, Subi Danvar, Dux Hannah, and Acey Zelk. It pleased him to see that all of them had survived, and that they had not sustained serious injuries.

“What do we call you now?” Subi asked. The rotund adjutant had a discolored bump on his forehead, but otherwise looked well.

“Just Noah.” He put his arm around Tesh. “I’m adjusting my priorities. From now on, I’m the Master Emeritus of the Guardians. You’ve done such a great job on my behalf, Subi, that I want you to run things from now on.”

“As Master Subi?”

“That has a nice sound to it,” Noah said.

“Yes, it does,” Tesh agreed.

“But I will not live as long as you,” Subi said. “One day you will need to resume your previous duties.”

“Not if you set up a proper chain of succession.” Glancing at Dux and Acey, he said, “We have a couple of good candidates right here.”

The young men glowed proudly.

“Good choices.” Subi’s eyes brightened. “Oh, I see. You want the Guardians to be self sufficient.”

Noah nodded. “I’d like the whole galaxy to be that way, functioning without the need for my intervention. It’s idealistic, I know, but there are other things I have to do.”

“What other things?” Subi asked.

“I’m not sure, only that I must free myself from day to day duties and prepare for something else. The various galactic races need to set up workable systems to do things on their own … always thinking of ecology, always trying to work together instead of at cross-purposes. Life, in all of its forms, must have a common vision.”

They spoke for a while longer. Finally, after the others left, Tesh stood alone with Noah and said to him, “I’ve been thinking about what you said, that there are other things you have to do. Is the Big Guy giving you a promotion? Are you becoming a god yourself?”

With a scowl, Noah said, “I don’t think references such as God, the Supreme Being, or the Sublime Creator are necessarily how it really is. They are just convenient reference points for something the galactic races don’t understand.”

“How about what they call you, the Savior?”

“Mmmm. I told the Tulyans I don’t think I’m the messiah foretold in their legends, but I’ll admit to you privately I’m not so certain anymore. Don’t tell anyone I said this, but maybe it was my destiny to appear when I did and do what I did. For some time now, I have felt myself pulled along on a tidal wave of events. Sometimes I could steer this way or that, as if I had limited free will, but for the most part I’ve been forced along a certain path. And I don’t know where that path leads.”

“Somewhere good, for certain,” she said, with a gentle smile. “But you frighten me with this kind of talk. You sound like you’re planning to leave me.”

He smiled sadly, tenderly. “In my line of work, I can’t always make plans. But I do follow my instincts.” He took her in his arms and held her tight. “One of my instincts tells me how much I love you … and our baby.”

“But is that your primary instinct, your main purpose in life? I know I’m asking a typical female question, but I can’t help wondering.”

“Maybe it is my main purpose. Maybe I can’t do anything without you.”

She sighed. “The strong woman behind the great man.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know you didn’t.” She looked up and kissed him.

“I mean, we’re a strong team, Tesh. You give me strength and vice versa, I hope.”

“And our baby? Could he be our real destiny? Might he hold a special purpose, beyond anything you or I could ever accomplish?”

“After what we’ve been through, anything is possible. But if he … or
she
… is healthy and contributes to the welfare of the known galaxy, that will be sufficient.”

“For me, just being with you is enough, Noah. Our baby is a bonus.” She grasped his rough-textured hand and led him toward the doorway. “Now come with me, Darling. We have some catching up to do. Our own set of priorities.”

Chapter Seventy-Six

Not knowing in advance often makes life more interesting.

There can be a certain magic in the process of discovery.

—Noah Watanabe

Near the Ring Moons of the Wygeros race, EcoStation floated in space with its anchor-jets set for the night. Soon, when the blue Wygerian sun faded from view, everyone aboard the facility would enjoy spectacular evening views of lucent ring-shadows as they played colors across the surface of the planet below.

Noah strode through the corridors of the cocoon, past instructors, research technicians, and eager young students as they bustled back and forth between classes and laboratories. All wore green-and-brown uniforms. He smiled at the people, and called out to some by name, noting with pleasure how many of the galactic races were represented here. EcoStation had not only survived—it had come back more gloriously than ever, and was filled to the brim with learning stations, research laboratories, and other features of the latest technology, installed in a magnificent citadel of ancient podflesh.

The contrasts were startling to some, but not to Noah. Each passenger on the cocoon had boarded it only recently in cosmic terms, and they were learning how to live in harmony with ancient things—with the galaxy and all of its varied contents. EcoStation was just part of the whole picture, but a very important one. It had become the inspiration that he had hoped for, drawing the most brilliant and idealistic minds from the widest sectors, the greatest teachers from every race. Though the cocoon no longer glowed, since Noah had suspended its weapon function, it was still a beacon, in an important and positive sense. From this place, in new ways, Noah was illuminating the entire galaxy with knowledge.

Walking into one of the research and development laboratories, he paused to watch Thinker and Dux. They stood at an electronic drafting table designing eco-monitors—flying robotics that could check a planet’s air, land, and water. It was just one of the many aspects of Noah’s continuing mission to keep the galactic machine running smoothly. EcoStation was full of projects such as this one, and Subi Danvar was doing a terrific job of managing and coordinating the operations. This left Noah time to be creative, to come up with new ideas and approaches.

Thinker and Dux were so engrossed in their work that they did not notice Noah standing behind them, watching them quietly. Noah smiled to himself, and left. Back in the corridor he picked up his pace, thinking of his own relatively short past, and his much longer future.

The transformed man had experienced a great deal of change around him, the weaving of evolutionary strands. His apparently immortal lifetime and mottled gray-and-black skin were only part of it. Not long ago he had been performing ecological repair work on planets that had been damaged by the industrial operations of merchant princes. Afterward his career had taken unexpected turns, and he’d been required to perform work that was related, but exponentially more important.

And all of it had taken place in only a galactic moment.

Considering his potential lifetime, this made Noah wonder what more he might accomplish. Would his expertise eventually be needed for operations encompassing the entire universe and all of its galaxies? If that proved to be the case, what role could the Tulyans and Aopoddae play in the work?

But as Noah considered these questions, he realized he was thinking through the filter of his own life experiences. Even with all he had seen and accomplished, he knew there was still a lot more than that. The known galaxy was just one of many realms, each with its own unique story.

I am only a punctuation mark in the unfolding epic of the universe
, he thought. He rounded a corner and headed down a long corridor.

It seemed incomprehensible to Noah that his destiny lay elsewhere, beyond the vast frame of reference encompassed by Timeweb and the known galaxy. And yet, he sensed that it did. He felt confident there were fantastic discoveries ahead that he could not begin to imagine. But he wanted to postpone the wildest (and admittedly most intriguing) possibilities for a while, so that he could spend time with Tesh and their baby. After all, Tesh—and probably the child as well—would not have Noah’s life span, so it only made sense for him to spend as much time as possible with his family now.

I have free will, and this is what I want,
he thought. Then, as if addressing a higher power, he asked,
Haven’t I earned the privilege?

No answer came, not viscerally or any other way. For the moment—other than the ruminations of his mind—he only had the here and now.

Subi Danvar approached. He looked harried, as if he had too much on his mind and had not been sleeping well. He was doing a good job, but still needed to grow into his job as Master of the Guardians, and become accustomed to the responsibilities. “I have that report you requested,” he said, as he reached Noah. He handed over a thick file.