Chapter Seventeen
Any moment could be your last—individually and collectively.
—Eshaz, comment to Subi Danvar
At the head of the podship fleet, Webdancer plunged into the ethereal mists. Thousands of ships in the first wave followed her into the starcloud, while the balance of the fleet went into holding patterns in that galactic sector, awaiting instructions by comlink to proceed.
Noah sat solemnly on a hard bench in the passenger compartment. Looking up, he saw a blank white screen appear, covering the viewing window on the forward wall. Like a schoolteacher, the big Tulyan Eshaz stood near the screen, holding a black control device in one of his thick hands.
He activated the device and the screen went on, showing multiple views of the starcloud planets—all showing throngs of Tulyans celebrating in the streets.
“Word has reached them that the fleet is returning,” Eshaz said, his voice and expression filled with pride. “After millions of years, we can once again return to our caretaking duties.”
“We’ve rescued the podships,” another Tulyan said. “Truly, this is a joyous occasion.”
But Noah felt a deep despondency, and a sense of foreboding. He knew something terrible was wrong, but couldn’t determine what it was. He was focused so far inward, questing and wanting answers, that events around him seemed as hazy as the mists of the starcloud. In a short while he disembarked the podship at the moorage basin and boarded a glax, self-propelled space platform. Tesh, Eshaz, Anton, Subi and a number of soldiers from the flagship accompanied him.
From the platform, the others stared in amazement at tens of thousands of podships moored around them in the pale mists. Like a small child, Tesh pressed her face up against the clearglax, for a closer view. Then she pulled back and looked at Noah. “As a galactic race,” she said, “the Aopoddae are known to date back even farther than the Tulyans … to the very origins of the galaxy.”
As Eshaz gazed out on the wide mooring area, he said in a reverent tone, “Some of these creatures are exactly the same pods that once transported us on our important maintenance and repair assignments, millions of years ago. The ancient podships are well-known from the oral history of my people. Each ship has a name and a historical record of accomplishments. Some of the most legendary pods are Spirok, Elo, Dahi, Thur, Riebu, Thees, Lody.” He pointed. “There! That one is Riebu!”
The one he designated had deep, rippled scars on its side, as if it had suffered the space equivalent of Moby Dick, and survived.
“Podships have mysterious life cycles,” Tesh said to Noah. “While many of them live almost eternally, that is not the case with all. Some die from accidents and diseases. Breeding is inconsistent. It goes in spurts, and then seems to stop entirely for centuries.”
“This is true,” Eshaz said. He looked at her thoughtfully. “Your people have had time to observe the creatures.”
She nodded, her expression growing sad.
Outside, a number of Tulyan pilots emerged from the podships, then stood atop the creatures and bowed their heads.
“An ancient ceremony,” Eshaz said, his voice choking with emotion. “These pilots have been reunited with their original podships, from long ago.”
At his side, Noah saw Tesh crying softly. He wiped the tears away from her cheeks, and kissed her tenderly.
“My feelings are complex,” she said. “Tears of joy for the Tulyans and their podships, but intense sorrow for my own people.”
“I understand,” Noah said, putting an arm around her.
“Why did it have to come to this?” she asked. Then she added quickly, “Of course, I already have the answer to that.”
In a comforting tone, Noah said, “I know it’s impossible to ask you not to feel distress. But Tesh, please don’t feel guilty for what you had to do. Maybe you’re like Meghina. Both of you were born to other races, but you each wanted to be Human. You are Human now, my darling.”
She smiled, but only a little. Her green eyes opened wide. “Well, almost Human, anyway. Cellular tests would say otherwise.”
“You and Meghina both look Human and act Human. It’s beyond cellular structures, beyond anything physical. It goes to your hearts.”
“Listening to you, I could almost imagine that any other differences are inconsequential.”
“They are.” He pulled her close, embraced her. It amazed him how the Parvii magnification system could make this tiny person seem much larger, in all respects. He wondered what the fate of her decimated race was, and knew she spent much more time thinking about that than he did.
Noah heard a low hum and felt a gentle vibration at his feet. The glax platform shuttled them from the moorage basin toward the floating, inverted dome of the council chamber. After a few minutes, it nudged up against a docking module and locked into position. Glax double doors slid open, revealing the interior of an entrance deck that skirted the chamber.
A pair of Tulyans marched forward stiffly, dressed in green-and-gold uniforms. They each carried a cap. “Right this way, please,” the shorter of the reptilian men said, to Anton and Noah, as they stepped off the platform. “We are your escorts.” He bowed, then put his cap back on. “The Elders are extremely anxious to speak with you.”
“It is an emergency,” the other Tulyan said as he put on his own cap.
“What do you mean?” Doge Anton asked.
“I am not authorized to say.”
Noah felt a sense of foreboding.
Emerging from the gathered passengers, Eshaz said, “I’ll go with them. This doesn’t sound good.”
“As you wish.” The shorter escort led the way up a wide, travertine tile stairway, while Eshaz motioned for Tesh and Subi to join the group.
On the next level they hurried through an arched doorway, then over a wide bridge that crossed a reflecting pool. Well-dressed aliens of a variety of races were gathered in a reception area, talking in hushed tones. They looked angry. Noah noticed that other alien dignitaries were being led out of the council chamber, just beyond. None of them looked very happy.
The escorts led the small party into the immense council chamber, onto a clearglax floor that seemed to float on air, with the curvature of the inverted dome below, and the ethereal mists of the starcloud. Their footsteps echoed on the floor. The immense chamber was nearly empty, with no one in the rows of spectator seats, and a few last aliens being led out, despite their protestations.
Three stern-looking Tulyans sat in the center of a wide, curving bench.
“Something is terribly wrong,” Eshaz whispered to Noah. “Just three Elders, and no one in the visitor’s gallery. I have never seen anything like this before, and I have lived for a long time.”
The female Elder in the center looked down solemnly from the bench, and waited for the chamber to be sealed. Noah recognized her as First Elder Kre’n.
“We have very grave news, indeed,” she said.
Noah and his companions stared upward inquisitively. His feelings of foreboding intensified.
“Terrible tragedies on Human and Mutati worlds,” a much larger Elder on her left, Dabiggio, said. “Our operatives got messages off to us describing the disasters.”
“Web transmissions,” Kre’n said. “While we have had difficulties with them, due to galactic conditions, they remain more reliable than your nehrcoms.”
“Tragedies, disasters?” Anton asked. “What are you talking about?”
Kre’n scowled at him. “You don’t know? While you were away, didn’t you receive any nehrcom messages?”
“We’ve been in relay range for awhile now. Several reports came in, but nothing about any big problems.”
“Fake transmissions, I suspect. Every Human and Mutati planet has been attacked.”
Anton and Tesh gasped. Noah glowered, waiting for more information.
“The attackers cut off authentic nehrcom transmissions from all MPA planets,” Kre’n said. “It took them longer, but they also managed to cut off our web transmissions. We fear the worst for our operatives.”
“What the hell happened?” Anton demanded. “Who attacked us?”
“Hibbils and Adurians,” Dabiggio said. “The Human and Mutati empires are lost. Surprise assaults, with overwhelming force. We lost communication three hours ago, but at that time only Canopa and Siriki were holding out in the MPA, and the Mutatis only had Dij left.”
“My God!” Anton said.
“We have incontrovertible proof that the Hibbils and Adurians are in alliance.” the third Elder said.
Is this what I sensed? Noah wondered. “Hibbils and Adurians?” he asked. “How could that possibly be?”
Nodding solemnly, Kre’n said, “They call themselves the HibAdu Coalition. They must have been plotting the attacks for some time. Coordinated military assaults against all targets.”
“Traitors,” Tesh said. “What a bunch of sneaky bastards.”
Noah thought back, and again he remembered seeing Hibbil and Adurian soldiers in a Timeweb vision. He’d reported it to Doge Anton, but there had been no indication of the scope of the treachery, or the direction it might take. Noah also remembered now that Lorenzo had a Hibbil attaché named Pimyt. The last Noah heard, Lorenzo and Pimyt were in Noah’s former EcoStation, where the deposed doge was in exile.
The HibAdu Coalition, he thought in dismay, letting it seep in.
But his gut told him that wasn’t all he’d been sensing. There was something more than this dire military news, something even worse, and he couldn’t put a finger on it.
Kre’n raised a hand. “Bring the Mutatis in,” she said.
“The Mutatis?” Anton exclaimed. Obviously stunned, he exchanged nervous glances with Noah.
A side door burst open, and a large Mutati strutted in, wearing a purple-and-gold robe. He was accompanied by an entourage that included several uniformed military officers and a female shapeshifter—of the aerial variety—who flew beside him.
“Meet the Emir Hari’Adab,” Kre’n said, “ruler of the Mutati Kingdom.”
***