Chapter Thirteen
It is the Second Law of Thermodynamics. All things move from structure to waste, from useful energy to energy that is no longer available. Timeweb, the infrastructure of the galaxy, is no exception. It has fallen prey to the dark, degenerative forces of Entropy.
—Report to the Tulyan
Council of Elders
Having been ordered to perform timeseeing duties for the Parviis, Eshaz had been conducting sessions in an anteroom of the Council Chamber. Each of these comparatively small enclosures was different from the others, and—if any Tulyan desired more privacy—each anteroom was capable of floating freely in the sky around the inverted dome of the central chamber. At a thought-command, Eshaz could engage or disengage from the dome. In a very real sense this was more a perceived sense of privacy, and an ephemeral one, since at a touch Tulyans could read the thoughts of each other, or of other races. But the private anterooms permitted some Tulyans more mental latitude in their creative and paranormal thinking abilities, a temporary respite from the constant mental linkages around them.
Thus far, over a period of days, Eshaz had been unable to timesee anything, and Woldn had grown increasingly upset. It had been Eshaz’s intention from the beginning not to report anything to the Parviis, but he had honestly attempted to timesee anyway, to no avail. He heard the buzzing discontent in the background as he tried to focus, and knew in his heart this would be another failed day.
The sound grew louder. Opening his eyes, Eshaz saw Woldn and his band of tiny, flying Humans hovering in front of him, their buzzing sounds coming through some internal vibration of their bodies, since they had no wings. “We’ve had enough of this!” Woldn said. “You’re faking!”
Eshaz withheld his comments, and his energy. Calmly, he sent a thought-command, and the anteroom floated back into its connecting port on the topside of the Council Chamber. “We shall discuss this with the Elders,” he said.
“Oh, we will do that!” Woldn and his entourage sped out of the anteroom the moment the door opened. They were waiting for him, when Eshaz marched purposefully into the large central chamber and faced the Elders.
“Let me begin by saying that I have not been disingenuous,” Eshaz said, gazing up at the broad-necked First Elder Kre’n.
She looked at him sternly, then stepped down from the bench. Approaching Eshaz, she touched his scaly bronze skin and closed her eyes.
Eshaz trembled as he felt the mental linkage, the two-way flow of information between them. It was not a complete transference by either of them; barriers still remained. Some were partial, while others were full and complete barricades. This was normal.
All grew silent to Eshaz, except for a faint, rushing inner sound as data flowed back and forth. He tried to calm himself, knowing that more details about how he had healed Noah Watanabe were emerging, beyond what he had already told the Council. Eshaz felt the outward flow of truth, the immensity of what he did to Noah and the web.
He detected Kre’n’s probing questions on the subject, that she was not yet getting everything she wanted to know. Even with the skin contact—the truthing touch—she was not learning all of the reasons for Eshaz’s momentous and dangerous decision, including the full details of his history with the remarkable Human. Somehow, Eshaz’s internal barriers were holding this back, but he would tell her anything she wanted to know if she ever asked him.
But he realized that he was not conscious of all of the reasons himself. Maybe there were subconscious motivations, or other forces at work that he did not understand himself. Despite what he and his people knew about Timeweb, it remained an infinitely mysterious realm, a massive puzzle with only a small number of its pieces showing.
Kre’n withdrew. Then, looking emotionlessly at Woldn as the tiny creature hovered near her, she said, “This timeseer has told you the truth. It is incontrovertible.”
Looking deep into Eshaz’s eyes, she added, “There, may, however, be a way of opening the pathways of his mind even more, of moving aside whatever may be blocking full revelation. For that, the Council must be alone with him.”
Grumbling, Woldn at first refused to leave. His words were loud, despite his diminutive size. “You Tulyans have always been a nuisance, and never deserved to hold dominion over podships. We’ve taken them away from you, but you still find ways of causing problems, of interfering with our rightful mission in the galaxy.”
“Woldn,” Kre’n said, “with all due respect to your position, I must point out how … undiplomatic … your remarks are. Perhaps you would be better served to deal with us through a professional ambassador, instead of personally.”
The Eye of the Swarm shouted, “I will hear no more of this!”
In a huff he attempted to leave, but at a signal from Kre’n, the guards blocked his exit, sealing the chamber off. At this he raised a commotion, citing all kinds of treaty violations that were being committed against him.
Calmly, the First Elder returned to her chair, and gazed dispassionately at the angry leader. Like a small cloud of insects, they flew one way and another, attempting to escape. Eshaz saw the twenty Elders unite their thoughts, recognized the little signs of this, the subtle, matching twitches on all of them, the simultaneously blinking sets of eyes, the way their gazes moved as if from the eyes of a single organism. They were in mindlink.
Gradually the Parviis stopped their tirade, and settled down.
“The guards will escort you back to the anteroom,” the Council members said, their voices perfectly synchronized. “We will summon you after our private session.”
With no choice in the matter, Woldn and his entourage flew away, following guards out a door that was opened for them.
O O O
Now Eshaz faced the entire Council of Elders, inside the inverted dome of the Council Chamber, floating in the misty, ethereal sky. Still in mindlink, the wise leaders stared down at him sternly. First Elder Kre’n sat in the center of the arched table. On her left sat the towering Dabiggio, the largest Tulyan Eshaz had ever seen. He did not look well: he had droopy, tired-looking eyes, skin lesions, and reddish patches of skin where the scales had fallen off.
Eshaz had heard stories of physical problems suffered by Tulyans in recent months, for the first time in their long history. Many were suffering from fatigue and their missing scales were slow to grow back, if they did at all. Tulyan leaders said that the weakening of Tulyan bodies spelled the approaching end of their immortal lives, and it was somehow tied to the problems with the deteriorating cosmic web.
Dabiggio was the first victim Eshaz had seen first-hand. It struck him as curious that the Tulyan Starcloud had not shown any signs of web deterioration in its sector; that its citizens were being impacted first. He assumed that the Starcloud would show signs of decay as well, and soon.
Answering their unspoken questions, Eshaz expanded on what Kre’n already knew. He elaborated on how he had healed the Human, Noah Watanabe, by allowing Timeweb nutrients to flow into his dying body, and how Noah thereafter gained access to the web through his mind.
Eshaz also described how he had met Noah Watanabe years ago; when the Human had led a fledgling activist organization with a forgettable name: the Planetbuilders. Eshaz gave him a much better name for the organization that reflected its multi-planet importance: the Guardians. The Tulyan had also made a number of operational recommendations, and gone to work for the organization as his busy schedule had permitted. After that, the Guardians grew in number and in prominence.
“I believe in Noah completely,” Eshaz said. “This Human may become the first truly important member of his race, on a galactic scale.”
Speaking in unison, the Council said, “Guilt over your Timeweb infraction may have blocked you from timeseeing, weighing heavily on your mind.”
Dismayed but not ashamed, Eshaz refused to hang his head. Instead, he looked at his superiors steadily and said, “I never felt guilt over what I did for Noah. I did it for the good of the galaxy, to fulfill my sacred caretaking oath. As I told you earlier, he may be the one spoken of in our ancient legends, the Savior we have awaited for millions of years.”
“We need not remind you,” the eerie voices retorted, with more than a hint of irritation, “that no matter the idealistic intentions and efforts of Noah Watanabe, there have never been any great Humans on a galactic scale. Humans are known to be limited by their pettiness, shortsightedness, and proclivity for warfare. They are parochial creatures, lacking in compassion or foresight.”
The Elders released their mindlink, and one of them, a smallish male known as Akera, spoke separately. “Nonetheless, we are willing to reserve judgment about Noah. You may be correct about him, though there is no way to tell yet, based upon the limited evidence available.”
“I have told you all I know,” Eshaz said, “even what is in my heart.”
“You are to increase your timeseeing efforts for the Parviis,” Kre’n said. “And do not even think about concealing anything from them. It is not only a matter of treaty, but of honor.”
“As you wish.” Eshaz bowed.
“Afterward, you have our permission to return to Noah’s Guardians at the first opportunity,” Kre’n said. “As soon as space travel is reopened to Human-controlled worlds.”
“We want you to protect the Human,” Akera said. “Help break him out of prison if you can, and keep him from causing harm to the fragile environment of Timeweb. We cannot do that from afar.”
“It may also be necessary to eliminate him,” Dabiggio said. He coughed. “If he proves dangerous.”
Eshaz recoiled at the vile thought. He knew little of violence, and could not imagine committing it against anyone, especially not against a man whom he had come to admire so much. But what if he had been wrong about Noah? What if the concerns of the Council proved well-founded?
I am a caretaker of the web, Eshaz reminded himself. I must do whatever is necessary.
O O O
Having been summoned to return, Woldn and his followers flew back into the chamber like an angry swarm of bees. They were in high fever, flitting around, buzzing in the faces of the much larger Tulyans, but eliciting no physical or verbal response.
“Our timeseer is ready to serve you,” the First Elder announced.
“You’ve cleared the cobwebs out of his head?” Woldn asked.
Eshaz glared at him.
“I have ordered a rendezvous of my people,” Woldn said, “and I cannot waste more time here.” He flew in front of the Council members. “You have failed in your obligation.”
“Then the timeseer will go with you,” Kre’n said. “Summon a podship and transport him to your rendezvous point.”
“That is out of the question. No outsider is permitted to know where we meet. Now let me out of here!”
“You refuse the services of a timeseer when he is prepared to fulfill his duty?” Kre’n said. “That sounds like a treaty violation to me. Now you must remain here to work through the problem. It has very serious diplomatic consequences, which this Council cannot ignore.”
“You’re wasting my time!” Woldn shouted.
“You waste your own time by being obstinate,” Kre’n insisted. “Can’t you conceal the location of your meeting place from Eshaz, blindfolding him, preventing him from seeing?”
“You are all mind readers when you touch us, but we do have ways of concealing something so essential, something so vital to the survival of our race. Very well! The recalcitrant timeseer will come with us.”
Woldn summoned a podship. It arrived in a matter of moments, with a distant green flash and a rumble as it entered the atmosphere of the starcloud. The craft made its way to the outside of the Council Chamber, and landed on a flat portion of the top, opposite the inverted dome.
Deep in thought and troubled, Eshaz boarded the vessel. He had left word for Acey and Dux that he expected to return in a matter of days, but in the chaos around him he knew that might not be possible.
***