Chapter Twenty
War has a way of shortening some men’s lives, and lengthening others.
—Doge Anton del Velli
“Only twelve thousand ships,” Doge Anton said. “Only a small portion of the fleet we brought back from the Parvii Fold.”
He and the cerebral robot Thinker stood on the command bridge of the flagship
Webdancer
. Tesh was still at the controls, but the podship had metamorphosed internally to create new military-purpose rooms, and had grown even larger than before, so that it now appeared to be at least twice the size of any other vessel in the fleet. Anton didn’t know how the ship changed (or the impetus for the alterations), but he rather liked the new internal arrangement, which included a spacious dome on top of the vessel where they stood now—with wide viewing areas in all directions, through filmy windows.
“I appreciate you coming with me,” Anton said.
“You are the commander-in-chief. I follow your bidding. Everyone interpreted your ‘request’ for my assistance as considerably more than that.”
Anton smiled gently as he looked back to see other vessels behind picking up speed to keep pace with the flagship, cutting through the milky mists of the starcloud. “Somehow,” he said, “I’ve always thought of you as a strong and independent personality, more impressive than any other machine and more than most men.”
“You are too kind, my Lord. I only hope to be of service on this, the most important of the three military missions. I must say, Sire, you were wise to allocate your ships the way you did. Canopa merits the most consideration, and the most firepower.”
Anton nodded. In the ongoing, mounting crisis he had made quick decisions, after receiving advice from his wife Nirella, from this robot, and from the other top minds in the new alliance, including Noah and his strategy-wise adjutant, Subi Danvar.
Webdancer
accelerated onto a main podway, bound for Canopa. It would take longer than in the old days. Supreme General Nirella rode in another ship with the main navigation team of the Humans, and they had made predictions and projections of the route the ships would probably take. For all practical purposes, the fleet would select its own course, following the lead of Tesh when she—enmeshed with
Webdancer
in the Parvii way—got a good view of space and determined the best route.
With all he had been through, and the tremendous burden of responsibility on his shoulders, Anton felt like a man in his middle age. But as he reviewed the actual mileposts of his life, the chronology only added up to twenty-one years.
As stars blurred past, he realized that he seemed to have lived two entire lifetimes. In the first, comprising a bit over twenty years, he had been the rather ordinary Anton Glavine, a mere caretaker and maintenance man. For a while he had been close to the exciting Tesh Kori, and they had been lovers. But they’d never connected in a deeper sense, and their relationship had ended when Anton and Noah were taken prisoner by Lorenzo. The two had escaped, but by the time Anton saw Tesh again, she had already drifted toward Noah.
During his so-called “second lifetime,” Anton was the fledgling Doge of the Merchant Prince Alliance, and he’d been forced to learn on the job, facing the challenges of managing the various competing powers in the realm. Not the least of the problems he’d faced had been his late mother Francella Watanabe, but he had found ways to sidestep even her. As for his father, the former Doge Lorenzo, Anton had not had much to do with him at all, other than making certain he didn’t interfere in merchant prince affairs.
Now, as he embarked for Canopa at the head of twelve thousand armed podships, Anton felt yet another lifetime beginning. Only a few hours ago he had met Hari’Adab, and now—at breakneck pace—the three portions of Anton’s fleet were speeding toward different destinations.
But significant restrictions had been placed on the Mutati Emir and his mission to Dij. After conferring with his advisers, Anton had sent what Nirella called “military chaperones” to monitor him. Ostensibly, they were following Hari’Adab’s commands, and to an extent they would do that. But—despite the Tulyan lie detection tests Hari and all of his Mutati followers had passed—Anton’s Human officers were alert for tricks and traps, and on a moment’s notice they were prepared to take control of the Dij-bound fleet. Robotic troops had also been sent with that rescue force, led by the loyal robot Jimu.
In yet another precautionary measure, Anton had ordered that the Emir’s lady friend, Parais d’Olor, be separated from him and placed with Noah’s forces on the Siriki mission—for at least the duration of the three initial military campaigns. Both Hari and Parais had objected to this, but the young doge had insisted upon it. The more indignant they were—and they showed considerable vehemence—the more certain he became that it was the right thing to do. Obviously Hari cared deeply for this aeromutati, so Anton had gained some leverage over him by keeping them apart. How much, though, he was not certain.
Now, as he thought back on these things, and on his own place in the critical events unfolding around him, Anton murmured, “ ‘Trust but verify.’ “
“What did you say, sir?” Thinker asked.
Anton repeated it, louder this time. Then: “It’s a saying of Lost Earth. I don’t know where I picked it up.”
Thinker whirred. “I have it in my data banks. It was a Russian adage, one of the major nations on the doomed planet.”
“I wonder how much of the MPA we can save,” Anton said.
His thoughts were very dark. Just before departure he had received a report that the HibAdus had enslaved trillions of Humans on every merchant prince planet with the exception of the two where the defenders were still holding out. He hoped, at least, that this had not worsened, and that he was not too late.
“Odds unknown,” Thinker said. “Not enough data on the enemy.”
“The people of Canopa and Siriki have fought bravely,” the Doge said. “We can’t abandon them to the HibAdus when they’ve shown such determined resistance.”
He felt his blood pressure rising from the frustration of how long it was taking to cross space. Then a comlink transmission came from General Nirella: “On final podway approach to Canopa system, sir. With luck, we’re only a few minutes away.”
“Any evidence of a timehole in the vicinity?”
“The Tulyans are checking on that. No report from them yet.”
“Visual confirmation that we are approaching Canopa, sir,” Thinker said. Even at the extreme speed of the podship, he was rapidly accumulating data on the star systems they were passing.
Anton steeled himself, wondering what awaited them. It could be a carefully laid HibAdu trap, and the same held true for Siriki and Dij.
Chapter Twenty-One
There is no such thing as a perfect secret.
—Adurian admonition
It required a considerable amount of bravery for the guests to have come here, to Lorenzo del Velli’s opulent gambling hall on the Pleasure Palace orbital station. At any moment, HibAdu forces could reappear from space and blast the facility into oblivion.
Of course, Pimyt knew otherwise. He just smiled to himself as he stood listening to the nervous chatter around the long diceball table. On his right, Lorenzo stood at the head of the table watching the game, occasionally interjecting to regale his guests with gossip-laden conversation. This gray-haired old man might have been deposed as Doge of the Merchant Prince Alliance, but he still retained his memories of many of the interesting noblemen and ladies in the realm. And if he had trouble remembering some of the details, he made some up in convincing fashion.
Though he kept it undisclosed in such company, Pimyt had been leading a hectic, though fascinating, life himself. If anyone ever wrote about the events and compiled them, his secrets would fill numerous thick volumes.
“The enemy could strike from any direction,” one of the noblemen said, looking around nervously at the wide view of space they had from the glax-walled main casino on the top level of the space station. Dozens of the Doge’s defensive ships patrolled the area, but Pimyt knew how paltry they would prove against any real attack. So, it seemed, did a number of the guests.
“Just being here is rather like a game of chance, wouldn’t you say?” Princess Meghina observed from her place opposite Lorenzo. As beautiful as ever, the blonde courtesan was a constantly smiling, perfect hostess. She sipped red wine from a crystal goblet, and asked, “Do we feel lucky or not?” Beside her, Meghina’s pet dagg emitted a low growl. She petted the large black animal.
“But what if the luck for any one of us has run out?” a giddy noblewoman asked as she rolled the diceball and watched it bounce from obstacle to obstacle on the table. Her hair was coiffed in a high bun on her head, and adorned with glittering rubians and saphos that cast prismatic red and blue light around her head. “What if it’s you, Lorenzo?” she asked, looking at him. “You’ve always had quite a run of good fortune.”
The automated table tallied her score, and three gold chips popped into a tray in front of her.
“Until forces conspired to remove me from office,” he snarled. “Don’t delude yourself. I’ve already had my share of misfortune. No, it isn’t
my
luck that would run out.”
The gamblers bantered and quipped around the table, as they tried to figure out who among them might either be ready to lose their luck, or who might be a Jonah that could bring bad fortune on the entire orbiter. Then the subject of conversation changed, and they talked about dagg races many of them had attended earlier in the day, at the recently completed race track that encircled the bottom level of the space station.
Pimyt tuned out their voices. His HibAdu conspirators had made powerful military strikes against every Human and Mutati world, and had overrun all but three of them. Ironically, Pimyt was now in orbit over one of the unconquered planets, Canopa, aboard Lorenzo’s space station. For several days, fighting had been fierce down on the surface, and in the air and orbital spaces over the planet … but had since died down. For a time, Lorenzo had suspected him of being one of the conspirators, but Pimyt had convinced him otherwise. And the Hibbil’s credentials, especially as a former Regent of the Merchant Prince Alliance, gave his word considerable weight. All Hibbils and Adurians were not against Humans, just because some were. For the time being Pimyt’s story had been believed, but would he need to take extra care in the future to avoid detection.
Through good fortune or divine salvation, the space station had been spared thus far. Or so the defenders thought. In reality, Pimyt had played a behind-the-scenes role in that, having convinced his superiors that it was a useful facility, worth saving. To preserve it as a prize of war, he’d made certain that HibAdu forces launched only token attacks against the facility, so diminished that Lorenzo’s own ships had been able to drive them away.
But even after all he had been through and all he had accomplished, Pimyt had never met any of the HibAdu leaders, nor did he know anyone who had. Prior to the emergence of the HibAdu Coalition, the Hibbils and Adurians had been ruled by their own planetary councils and committees, with largely ceremonial heads of state. That was all suspended with the onset of the HibAdu military buildup, which took precedence over prior forms of government. Now the Hibbils and Adurians were one political and military entity.
Most of Pimyt’s associates, such as the Adurian VV Uncel, said they did not care if they ever met the HibAdu leaders in person. To Pimyt, though, it had always seemed peculiar that the coalition high command only distributed audio recordings of themselves delivering inspirational speeches, and had never made personal appearances to the public or to the armed forces. While their names and titles were known—High Ruler Coreq, Prime Lord Enver, and Warlord Tarix—no photos had been disseminated of any of them. Sometimes, in his wildest visions, Pimyt’s thoughts would run amok and he would imagine that the leaders were not what they seemed to be … not Hibbils or Adurians.
Of course, he constantly assured himself, that was not possible.
Jolting Pimyt to awareness, the floor suddenly shuddered beneath his feet. Gaming pieces rattled on the table and slid off in a series of increasingly loud, crashing clatters. He heard an explosion, and the shouts and screams of his companions.
* * * * *
Noah experienced dual realities, the pleasant sensation of the soft podship chair around him, but the suspicion that it might have drawn him down like quicksand into Timeweb. Normally, he might have welcomed a journey into the paranormal realm. On numerous occasions he had attempted to enter it himself through varying doorways that always seemed to open of their own volition. Now, unexpectedly, he had been drawn in at a time when he could least afford it.
If he didn’t wake up quickly, it meant he had essentially gone to sleep on the job. Not like him at all. Noah had always been a hard worker, but now as he considered the prospect of going back, he suddenly felt very tired—the fatigue of an entire lifetime weighing him down.
Here in Timeweb, on the other hand, he had an odd sense of exhilaration and tremendous energy, that he could journey on and on through the cosmos, like a stone skipping forever across a very, very broad pond.
His motion through space slowed dramatically, and just ahead he made out the Canopa Star System and its largest planet, the homeworld of the Merchant Prince Alliance. As if his eyes were a holocamera, Noah zoomed in on the planet. He searched for the timehole he had seen in an earlier vision, and didn’t see it. But beyond Canopa, space was murky, with a peculiar fog that he found troubling.
Abruptly, time seemed to go in reverse, and once again Noah was a small boy living in the Valley of the Princes, on his father’s vast estate. A redheaded girl ran toward him, calling his name. “Noah! Noah!”
For an instant, he hesitated. Then he answered her back with her name. “Francella! Where have you been?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But I’m back.” Francella smiled sweetly, prettily. Her dark brown eyes glittered.
Like long-lost siblings, the two children hugged. Noah felt the warmth of her embrace.
When they withdrew and he looked at her he saw that she was pointing in wonder at the sky, her eyes open wide in astonishment.
Noah looked up at a vault of grayness that was dissipating, like a thinning fog. Through an opening in the vault he made out the faint green filigree of Timeweb against the backdrop of space and glittering stars. Then his vision zoomed in, and he saw his former space station orbiting Canopa, now the home-in-exile of Lorenzo del Velli. Seeing the facility again gave Noah a warm, comfortable feeling. He still thought of the orbiter by his own original name for it, EcoStation, even though it had been substantially changed after the merchant princes took it away from him and Lorenzo turned it into a gambling casino.
His gaze searched in the vicinity of the space station, and to his alarm Noah detected a crack in the fabric of the webbing, a fine line running through the green threads that stretched larger and larger and widened, until he could identify the defect as a whirling timehole, with the blackness of eternity visible beyond. The stygian hole pulsed on its luminous green edges like a living thing. It grew in size until it dwarfed the space station, which drew close to it, as if pulled by a magnet.
In a previous vision, Noah had seen a huge timehole in the vicinity, and now it seemed apparent that it had diminished in size for a time, and then had re-enlarged. Through the luminous perimeter of the opening, he saw a view of space beyond that looked like the blackest place in the entire universe.
* * * * *
Inside the glax-walled gambling hall, people screamed and cried out in pain as the space station rolled and tumbled, and the onboard gravitonics system failed. Meghina’s dagg barked and whined. Pimyt tried to find something stable to hold onto, while avoiding being hit by the loose, heavy objects. He grabbed the edge of the big gaming table. Something slammed into his left hip, and a sharp pain lance of shot through his body.
Everyone tumbled over in a deafening crash of sound, as the table, guests, and chairs slid against the viewing windows.
* * * * *
In what seemed to Noah like a nightmare instead of reality, EcoStation vanished into the galactic maw in a bright green flash. He gasped in horror. A shift in the strands of the webbing ensued, and the timehole sealed over, so that Noah could no longer see it.
He awoke, and found himself back in the soft chair in his office. The chair, part of the podship and created by it, pulsed around his body, as if massaging him and trying to draw him back into it.
But Noah leaped to his feet. He shouted for Subi Danvar, and moments later he saw the rotund adjutant standing in the doorway.
“Everything’s ready,” Subi said, as if nothing unusual had happened.
Glancing at his own wristchron, Noah was surprised to see that only a few minutes had passed since he’d taken the break. It hadn’t done him any good, and he didn’t feel rested at all. But he had no time to consider such matters, and he couldn’t worry about EcoStation. That was not his mission.
From deep inside, he drew strength, and hurried with Subi to the passenger compartment of the flagship, a room they had converted to a command center for the fleet.
Arriving there in the midst of his officers, Noah told an aide to send a message to Anton about what he had seen. Then he shouted, “On to Siriki!”
In a matter of moments, the command was transmitted to Tesh in the sectoid chamber. The vessel—named
Okion
since ancient times—accelerated toward the podways.