Timeweb Trilogy Omnibus (93 page)

“Right. Their robots can be reprogrammed, after we get important data from them.”

“And what are we to do about Noah Watanabe? From what I hear, he can’t be killed. There are

even doubts about whether he is really Human or not. I mean, he’s not like Princess Meghina, really a

Mutati. The shapeshifters are as mortal as we are.”

Nehr nodded. “He’s in his own category, isn’t he? Capture him, kill him if you can with

overwhelming firepower. Whatever it takes to stop his operations.”

Underground, his location veiled by the security system that Subi and Thinker had improvised, Noah stood with Zigzia, a female Tulyan who was around his own height, but who probably weighed three times as much as he did. She wore a green-and-brown Guardian uniform. For her race, Zigzia was on the small side, even for a female. Noah had dealt with enough Tulyans to be able to distinguish one from another by facial features, and he thought this one had an interesting look to her, with intelligence in her dark, slitted eyes.

“Please repeat my message back,” Noah said.

“To make certain I have it right, you mean?” She looked a bit perturbed, and a crinkle formed along her bronze, scaly snout. “I have a perfect memory, just as Eshaz does.”

“Of course. I don’t wish to be insulting. As I understand it, virtually all Tulyans have such a memory. But there
are
a small percentage of exceptions.”

“With all due respect, Master, you think I might fall into the latter category?”

He shook his head. “I’m sure you don’t. I am told by my people that you have precise recall, and that you have transmitted numerous messages between us and your Council of Elders on the Tulyan Starcloud. It’s just that this is the first time I have dealt with you personally, and I have a certain way of doing things.”

“I accept your apology,” she said.

“My.…” Noah smiled. “Yes, you could call it that.”

With a twinkle in her eyes, the bulky alien repeated his message back to him in its entirety, even including the vocal inflections and pauses in his original, when he uttered it moments ago. Word for word, she got it exactly right, and he nodded with satisfaction.

“Very good,” he said. “Most impressive. OK, go ahead and send it.”

She grinned, revealing large teeth. “The regularly appointed time is this afternoon.”

“Yes. As specified by your Council. One of these days I shall ask you to show me in detail how the system works. Something to do with the web, as I understand it.”

Disapproval registered on her face. “That is correct, but the Council has not authorized me to say more.”

“To an outsider, you mean?”

“No, Master Noah. You are as close to being Tulyan as any Human I have ever met. Among my people, you are held in great esteem. But only the Elders can decide what is revealed to you.”

“I understand.”

She bowed, and left to perform her various tasks.

In his soon-to-be transmitted message, Noah asked about Eshaz and Tesh, wondering how they were doing and what they were doing. On the surface it appeared to be entirely businesslike, focused on their operations as Guardians, and Noah’s request that they return as soon as possible. Noah also had an interest in regaining jurisdiction over the podship that Tesh had with her, even if he was never able to pilot one of the sentient vessels himself again. With the ship at his disposal, many things were possible.

In several voyages across space, each taking only a few moments, he could move his entire force of Guardians to another planet. But what would he accomplish if he did that? He didn’t want to mount an army to attack the merchant princes. Instead, he wanted to work with them against the Mutatis and the Parviis, who were so problematic in different ways. The podship—presumably operated by Tesh—would enable him to personally move around the galaxy quickly if he needed to do so, and it might also be a bargaining chip in dealing with young Anton, who was the odds-on favorite to be the next doge. Noah harbored hopes that his past close relationship with his nephew might be beneficial to the cause of humankind. He just needed to figure out the best way of reaching out to him.

Noah wanted Eshaz, Tesh, and the podship back for professional reasons, to be sure, but behind the official communication he concealed his strong desire to see Tesh. He missed her. On a very personal level, it was a situation that he wanted to figure out how to handle, how to reach out to her. But in this galaxy, with all of the problems he faced, other matters were more pressing.…

On the other end of the transmission, Eshaz was forced by the Council of Elders to answer vaguely, without details of what they were doing. They saw through Noah’s words, to his true feelings. Eshaz defended Noah, saying that the man would never let personal feelings get in the way of important work. But Eshaz had to agree with his superiors. In his own experience, he had seen something extra between the two Humans.

Under tight control by the Elders, Eshaz’s transmitted response to Noah read simply, “Congratulations on your rescue from imprisonment. We trust that you are doing well, and look forward to working closely with you again.”

When Jimu received his command to find and destroy Noah and his headquarters, it tied in with something the robot had been planning to do anyway. Recently, there had been reports of undercover Guardian machines operating around Canopa, eluding capture. He would concentrate on finding them, and ferreting out their secrets.

Moving quickly, Jimu ordered a roundup of every sentient machine that showed its metal face on Canopa. Household, factory, and office bots were brought in for questioning, along with every other type of mechanical device that had the capacity to think. Interface probes would be used, and even disassembly, if necessary. Whatever it took to find out where each machine had been, and what it was programmed to do.…

A week later, Jimu heard about some unusual robots that had turned up, and one in particular. As excited as a robot could be with his programmed emotions, he hurried to a government warehouse on the outskirts of Rainbow City. There he found a contingent of his Red Beret machines surrounding an armored Human and a dented bot that had folded itself shut. He recognized them immediately, from information in his own data banks. Both were famous in machine lore.

Without a doubt, they were Giovanni Nehr and Thinker.

“The robot won’t open,” one of Jimu’s sergeants said, “and we’re worried about damaging his programming if we try to force the issue. He’s really sealed himself up.”

Striding up to the prisoners, Jimu said, “Hello, Thinker. Remember me, old friend?”

To his surprise, Thinker opened without delay. Having erased part of his internal programming, the portion that revealed the location of Noah’s subterranean headquarters, Thinker had set all of this up intentionally, wanting to be captured. He had his own plan in mind, with two important goals … one involving Jimu and the other involving Gio.

Back at the Guardian hideout, the cerebral robot had left a full backup copy of himself, and instructions that if he didn’t return within three hours, this copy would be inserted into a new body, and the one he occupied now (including its internal programming) would be automatically deactivated. With respect to Gio, whom he did not yet entirely trust, this was an important test, sanctioned by Noah Watanabe himself.

Using his advanced programming, Thinker had taken preparations to send an electronic signal that would wipe out Gio’s memory of the headquarters location if he even started to utter the wrong words, or if any attempt was made to separate the two of them. Additional memory-wiping signals, though designed for robots, would be sent to all sentient machines within hearing range, if necessary. The robot had made adjustments to his own programming to set it up. Normally Thinker could not harm Humans or meddle with their minds, but he was able to tweak that by placing Noah’s safety, and the security of the entire Guardian organization, above all other concerns.

“You’re on the wrong side, old friend,” Thinker said to Jimu. Around the perimeter of Thinker’s face plate, orange lights blinked on. They began to pulse slowly and hypnotically, with the light receding and returning like the tide, dimming and brightening, dimming and brightening.

“But we both work for Humans,” Jimu said. “How can that possibly be wrong?”

Abruptly, an interface probe shot out of Thinker’s torso and locked into a port on Jimu’s body, which now bore the cardinal-red markings of the Doge’s elite force. It took only seconds to transfer the data to the wayward robot, after which Thinker withdrew the probe.

“Now do you understand?” Thinker asked.

“All Humans are not worthy of our loyalty and devotion,” Jimu intoned. “But Master Noah is.”

“Welcome to the Guardians,” Thinker said. He clasped metal hands with Jimu.

Jimu, instilled with sudden fervor, now issued new commands to the robot force in the warehouse. “We will not fight our own kind, especially not the revered Thinker. We all owe him a duty, for what he began in the White Sun Solar System where your brethren were first renovated, after having been discarded as worthless by the merchant princes.”

“Giovanni Nehr knows the way,” Thinker said.

Moments later, the motley group filed out of the warehouse, with Jimu ostensibly at the head of a Red Beret squadron. But an armored Human right behind him provided directions.

In ensuing weeks, Thinker and Jimu worked together from Noah’s headquarters to decimate the robotic ranks of the Red Berets. During what looked like typical patrols or troop exercises, a number of the Doge’s machines began to slip away and go over to Noah’s side—a trickle at first that would gradually increase.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

The concept of voting is like a pebble in a pond, enlarging outward from personal decision points concerning small matters to larger and larger matters.

—Anonymous, perhaps from a politician of Lost Earth

Despite his vices and extreme avarice, Doge Lorenzo had attempted to coordinate an effective military defense system on all planets in the Merchant Prince Alliance. As a matter of routine, he left most of the details to the professionals such as General Jacopo Nehr, but the Doge had his own ideas and concerns about such important matters. Sometimes he went into Nehr’s office on the orb iter and discussed military issues with him, but usually Lorenzo passed his orders through his attaché, Pimyt, who in turn relayed them down to the nehrcom transmitting station on the surface of Canopa for dissemination to other planets.

Lorenzo had also continued to reward scientific and business achievements by appointing commoners to princely positions. But he had failed to keep abreast of changing political tides, and failed to see the strength of the opposition to him until it surfaced in a big way. Now his political opponents—while concealing their identities—were lobbying for a vote of no-confidence in the Hall of Princes, and had garnered enough support to make it happen.

Today was the day of the vote.

Accompanied by his guards, the self-proclaimed Lorenzo the Magnificent took a shuttle down to the surface, and then a groundcar to the government complex in Rainbow City. At one time these buildings had been devoted to Canopan affairs, but now they served a larger purpose because of the destruction of Timian One and the merchant prince capital there.

His car crossed the city’s central square and stopped at the largest building, a domed structure that was now the Hall of Princes. The vote would be taken inside during a nehrcom conference session.

As he took his seat on the central stage, he wondered how many princes were aligned against him, and which of those who claimed to support him were actually working against him behind his back. He sighed. His grandfather had told him to be wary of political alliances, since they could blow away like leaves in the wind. Lorenzo realized now with a sinking sensation that he had forgotten that admonition, and had let his guard down while his enemies massed against him. He felt tears of sadness and rage welling up inside, and fought them back.

Many of his questions would be answered soon, when the princes placed their anonymous votes. For years he had been able to avoid even having a vote of confidence, since he had so many supporters who opposed it. But now, with the increasing opposition, the vote would be taken. He did not expect to lose, but the mere fact of the vote troubled him.

A handful of Canopan princes filed into the chamber and took their seats, along with a number of princes who had been visiting when podship travel was cut off. Gradually the other seats filled with holo-images, projections from other worlds. The transmitted images were so realistic that Lorenzo had to look closely to see the difference: they had a slight, almost imperceptible lack of sharpness. He nodded to some of his friends and long-time allies, including Anese Eng of Siriki and Nebba Kami of Salducia. They nodded back, most of them from far across the galaxy.

With a worried scowl, Lorenzo folded his arms across his chest and waited. He cast his own vote with a control panel on the arm of his chair, and saw the princes doing the same out in the chamber. They had an hour to complete the process, and many of the dignitaries whispered and murmured among themselves, making last-minute decisions and deals.

He didn’t like the facial expressions he saw on many in the chamber, including noblemen he had long considered his friends and allies. Stony countenances that seemed to look completely through him, as if he wasn’t even there. Could the vote possibly go against him? He wished he could say something here on his own behalf, but by long tradition that was impossible. All of the politicking had been done before this, with secret deals and payoffs. But it might not be enough.

Nervously, Lorenzo summoned an aide. “I’m not feeling well,” he said. “Perhaps I should go to an anteroom.”

The aide, a small but powerfully built black man, spoke in a confidential tone. Dib Venkins had always been outspoken, but his advice was consistently good. “Couldn’t that be seen as a sign of weakness, Sire?”