Webdancers

by Brian Herbert

  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.

  “Good,” Noah said, thumbing through the pages. It was an analysis of piezoelectric emerald veins around the galaxy, a subject that he found interesting on several levels. He studied a chart for a moment.

  “Look on page sixteen for evidence of ancient mining,” Subi said.

  Noah thumbed to the page, nodded. “I’ll study this before tomorrow’s meeting,” he said. He tucked the file under his arm. Leaving Subi, he continued down the corridor.

  The information that Noah had just perused had to do with his theory of galactic ecology, of the interconnectedness of the galaxy. It was important documentation, more corroborative evidence. Piezoelectric emeralds were the stuff that the ancient builders of Timeweb had used to spin the fantastic webbing of the cosmos. There was much to learn about those minerals, and about the infinitesimally small life forms that lived in their cellular structures.

  A captured Adurian lab scientist had referred to them as “Webbies,” and said that those inhabiting the galactic webbing undoubtedly had something to do with nearly instantaneous Tulyan communication across the galaxy, and with nehrcom transmissions. They might even have something to do with Noah’s recovery from a serious injury, when Eshaz connected him to a strand of galactic webbing, and it healed him. In recent days, cooperative Adurian laboratory technicians had found evidence of the tiny, elusive creatures in samples of Noah’s blood.

  What a fantastic universe this is! Noah thought. He couldn’t wait to discover more of its secrets. And he had a long time to unravel them.

  Of great importance, Tulyan teams had been journeying to the farthest reaches of the galaxy aboard their restored fleet of podships, performing critical inspection and maintenance tasks. Having seen the terrible reality of the monsters of the undergalaxy, the Tulyans were working with renewed vigor to keep them bottled up. For the rest of eternity, Tulyans expected to perform many of their traditional caretaking duties. But they could not do it all alone. Other races had to contribute as well—different tasks according to their abilities.

  Everything had to function like a biological machine, with the parts moving in synchronization. For it all to work, there had to be harmony among all of the ecological niches, on an immense scale. Old prejudices and conflicts would have to be set aside.

  Noah sighed, as he thought of the vastness of space, and the diversity of conditions around the galaxy. A great deal of work remained to be done, and he knew the races could never let their guard down again. They must always be vigilant. It was one of the primary lessons that everyone had to learn. Unexpected dangers could always emerge.

  He glanced at a chronometer on the wall of the corridor, paused to stare at it. For several moments he was hypnotized by the digital numbers as they advanced in their relentless, cyclical routine. In a few minutes he would sit in as an observer at a class on cluster-world ecology. It was being conducted by a full-time Mutati professor, a close associate of the Emir Hari’Adab.

  Noah grinned. My, how times had changed.

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  “I am my parents and my grandparents, stretching back to the beginnings of our race—and even beyond, far beyond, to the entropic materials that were stirred up in the dust of stars and went into the first sentient creature. I am the person you see before you, and much more. I am one cosmic life form and I am many. After being healed by nutrients from Timeweb and receiving the nanocreatures of the webbing into my bloodstream, I began to evolve in a new direction. Now the tiny life forms speak to me in their own way, and transport me to my destiny.”

  —Noah Watanabe, entry in Thinker’s data banks

  The podship Webdancer, having recovered from its battle injuries, was speeding near the Tulyan Starcloud, dodging comets and meteors, and occasionally racing them. The ancient creature was like a frisky pony, with a tiny Parvii woman flying alongside, keeping up easily, matching every maneuver. Though they were not physically connected at the moment, Tesh and her podship were mentally linked through a morphic field, constantly aware of each other’s movements. It was one of the methods of communication used by podships to fly in formation, and Webdancer had taught it to her in the wordless way of the Aopoddae.

  Ever since the epochal battle to save the galaxy, Tesh had been learning things about the arcane cosmic creatures, picking up subtleties of their communication system, and even noting differences within family groupings—what she called “dialects of motion.” Without question, these space travelers—defying their appearances—were far more intelligent and advanced than any other galactic race.

  Noah claimed not to know much about their wordless methods. And, although her lover seemed far superior in comparison with her, it was his contention that he could never possibly learn everything there was to know, not even about important matters such as the Aopoddae. It was his view—shared with the Tulyan Elders—that the sentient podships compr
ised a vast and collective storehouse of cosmic knowledge, a repository of treasures and mysteries that went all the way back to the first days of existence, when the galaxy came into being.

  “They contain the secrets of the universe within their cells,” Noah had said to her recently.

  Now Tesh became aware of a change in her Aopoddae companion. The podship was slowing down, and had opened a hatch for her to enter. Moments later, she felt a stirring of life within her own body.

  Somehow, Webdancer had sensed that it was her time.

  * * * * *

  It was early morning in the Wygerian Star System, with lucent ring shadows still casting soft colors across the surface of the coreworld below. In only a few minutes the sun would rise and chase the shadows away, but Noah hardly thought about that. His senses were on full alert, stretching outward.

  A short while ago, he had again immersed himself into the flesh of the cocoon. Now, from far across space, he detected the same thing as Webdancer. It was time.

  Noah visualized the Tulyan Star System, and in the blink of an eye he was there, bumping up against the much smaller Webdancer. He made the docking connection, lifted himself out of the podship flesh, and strode the short distance into Tesh’s podship.

  As they had discussed earlier concerning this special moment, Tesh lay in the warmth and security of the craft’s sectoid chamber. There, at the nucleus of the ancient creature, she would give birth. The old making it possible for the new. She was a minuscule Parvii form on the soft gray deck, with her magnification system off.

  Though Noah had influenced far-ranging matters of great scale and importance, he now found himself unable to have any effect at all on the tiny woman in front of him, or on the child she carried in her womb. He felt helpless and awkward.

  Carefully he knelt over her, feeling like a giant. “I wish I could do something,” he said, softly.

  Tesh smiled up at him. Her voice was small and distant, as if she was having to shout. “Don’t worry! This is the most natural of processes. You’re here, and that’s more than enough for me.”

  Noah didn’t know if Parvii women ever suffered labor pains the way Human females did—but in this case it seemed effortless. As he watched, Tesh seemed to will the birth, and then it happened. She made hardly a sound, did not grimace in pain. The precious child slid easily through her birth canal and emerged, dripping amniotic fluids.

  With deft motions, Tesh severed the umbilical cord and tied off the connection on the child’s stomach. Then, producing a blanket as if by magic, she swaddled the baby and extended it up to Noah. “Meet your new son,” she said.

  Noah placed his right hand beside her, palm up, and she set the baby onto his palm. Tesh was herself only half the length of Noah’s forefinger, and the child much smaller than that. Ever so carefully, he used his other hand to slide the child to a safer position. He held the baby delicately, afraid of harming him.

  Such a tiny life form, Noah marveled, and yet so infinitely important. He saw pinpoint-eyes of indeterminate color in the round face, glittering like miniature stars.

  “With your permission, I would like to name him Saito, in honor of my father,” Noah said.

  Tesh climbed onto the hand too, and lifted the baby into her arms. She had tidied up her own clothing, and had even brushed her hair quickly. “Then Saito shall be his name.”

  Walking across Noah’s hand, the pretty brunette hopped back down to the deck. Moving a distance away and activating her own magnification system, Tesh became full size again, and stood there with the child nearly as small on her hand as he had been on Noah’s. “Little Saito cannot be fitted with a magsystem until he is fully grown,” she said with a smile, “at the risk of stunting his growth. And for my people that is a very serious concern!”

  Noah exchanged loving smiles with her, and for a moment he forgot that he was more than Human, and that this restricted his possibilities for happiness.

  The shared bliss was only momentary, before Noah sensed Webdancer and other podships communicating with one another in their prehistoric, mysterious way. He identified the characteristic sounds of Diminian and his companions—the most ancient of the Aopoddae in the cocoon and in the rest of the Liberator fleet.

  Tesh’s green eyes opened wide in alarm. “Look at your skin!” she said. “Oh, my God, what’s happening to you?”

  Looking down, Noah saw that the flesh on his hands was breaking up into tiny, dark particles that seemed to bounce off one another on the surface. He touched one hand to the other, and it didn’t feel any different.

  “It’s happening to your face, too!” she said. She stepped backward and clutched the baby protectively to her bosom. Then she reconsidered, and reached out to touch the skin on Noah’s forehead. To his dismay, he felt her fingertips sink into his own flesh and bone. It was painless to him, but he detected the immersion.

  Visibly upset, she withdrew.

  When Noah touched his own skin, however, it felt no different to him than normal, and he did not sink in.

  Now the dark particles on his skin began to move faster and faster, and seemed to dive into the surface, where they continued their agitation in a foggy realm. The skin had taken on a haziness, a ghostlike quality. This time when Noah tried to touch one hand to the other, they passed through each other and he felt no tactile sensation at all. They were like clouds merging. Pulling the hands apart, they still had their misty definition.

  “Are you vanishing?” she asked, her voice panicky. “Darling, what’s happening to you?”

  “I don’t know.” Noah felt oddly calm, and that he should accept whatever was occurring instead of trying to fight it. He was only one life form in a universe of countless sentient creatures and possibilities—an infinite number of individuals that were evolving, and were ultimately connected to one another. Inside his body, the Webbies were doing their work.

  Tears streamed down Tesh’s cheeks. She kept trying to caress Noah’s face, but nothing tangible was there. She touched the sleeve of his tunic and it gave way, as if it had nothing behind it. But Noah could still see her clearly, and still saw a misty quality to his own skin—some substance and integrity there.

  “For now, it seems to be holding,” he said.

  “You’re continuing to evolve,” she said in a voice tinged with panic, “but into what?”

  “I don’t know where the path of my life is leading. All I know is that I must follow it.” He reached out to her, but could no longer feel her skin. He withdrew, disheartened.

  “Can you reverse the process, the way you could mentally command the podflesh to disappear from your skin?”

  “That is no longer possible,” he said, as information from the Aopoddae surfaced in his mind. “I am beyond going back.”

  “I’m trying to understand, Darling. I don’t want to be selfish, but I love you so much it hurts.”

  “We share feelings that no one needs to know about,” Noah said. “Now that our Saito is born, there is no more need for my physical body. It has been transferred to him. One day, you will tell him of this, and he will fulfill his own destiny.”

  Filled with sadness, she could only nod.

  Noah leaned toward her and kissed her lips. It gave him an emotional sensation, but not a corporal one. Even so, he could clearly remember the tenderness of her kisses, and knew he would never forget them, no matter how long he lived. He recalled an earlier Timeweb experience in which they had been together paranormally, and she had later insisted it had been physically real as well. Their baby was evidence of that. Now, it was similar. But entirely different.

  As moments passed Tesh made herself smaller, and held the child in a normal fashion.

  Around Noah the sectoid chamber seemed to melt and morph, and in a matter of moments he found that he stood alone inside the larger sectoid chamber of the cocoon. This time there had been no walking, or swimming through the flesh. Somehow, the Aopoddae had done it differently.

  Through visual sen
sors in the flesh, Noah watched Tesh in her reduced form as she hurried through the main corridor of Webdancer with their child, making her way forward in the vessel.

  In a matter of minutes, hundreds of the oldest podships in the fleet gathered around Noah’s cocoon. They began to glow softly in concert with the larger structure, then led it out into deep space. For awhile, Webdancer kept up with them, flying of her own accord. Then the gray-and-black Liberator flagship separated from the others and fell back.…

  Tesh stood inside, at a forward viewing window. She saw the glowing podships and the cocoon accelerate along parallel podways that seemed to go upward from her vantage point. Then, in a brilliant burst of green, the fabric of space split open and they went through. For the briefest moment, Tesh got a glimpse of something beyond, of shimmering, enchanting lights and colors that danced in the ether like immense living creatures. Then the cosmic portal closed, and Noah was gone.

  “Goodbye, my love,” she whispered. Crying softly, she held the baby close to her.

  The End

  About the Author

  Brian Herbert, the son of Frank Herbert, is the author of numerous New York Times bestsellers. He has won many literary honors and has been nominated for the highest awards in science fiction. In 2003, he published Dreamer of Dune, a moving biography of his father that was nominated for the Hugo Award. After writing ten DUNE-universe novels with Kevin J. Anderson, the coauthors created their own epic series, HELLHOLE. Brian began his own galaxy-spanning science fiction series in 2006, TIMEWEB. His other acclaimed solo novels include Sidney’s Comet; Sudanna, Sudanna; The Race for God; and Man of Two Worlds (written with Frank Herbert).