The Timeweb Chronicles: Timeweb Trilogy Omnibus by Brian Herbert Page B

along the route Noah was flying now, was nowhere near what it used to be. Huge areas of the planet had been stripped of their resources and denuded of beauty, leaving deep geological scars that might never heal.
    As far as Noah Watanabe was concerned, the galactic races tended to be interlopers in the natural order of things, and Humans were the worst of all. His ideas were much wider than humanity, though, or any of the races. While performing his business operations on a variety of worlds, he had begun to see relationships within relationships, and the vast, galaxy-wide systems in which they operated.
    The grid-plane came to a stop and a double door whooshed open. As he stepped down onto a flagstone entry plaza, Noah inhaled a deep breath of warm, humid air, and watched aides as they hurried to greet him. This moment was a gift. For a while, he had not been certain if he would ever make it back here.

Chapter Eight
    The art of business is not a pretty one; it requires blood-red pigment.
    —Francella Watanabe, private reflections
    In her white-and-gold dress and star-shaped headdress, Noah’s sister gave the appearance of a lady of leisure. It was just one of the subterfuges the tall, redheaded woman employed to conceal the fact that she was responsible for the assault on CorpOne headquarters, and that she herself had received training in the most advanced styles of combat and tactical warfare.
    “Faster!” Francella shouted to four company policemen who carried her injured, comatose father on a hover-bier. With her leading the way, they ran through a dimly-illuminated corridor, just one of the tunnels that formed a maze beneath the office-industrial complex of more than twenty buildings. Originally these subterranean passageways had been the streets of an ancient Nopan city, but the community had been abandoned long ago when the inhabitants fell victim to a mysterious malady.
    Old Prince Saito, with his head bandaged, came to life suddenly on the bier. His eyes opened wide and he groaned loudly, then flopped one of his beefy arms over the side. “Noah?” he said, while lifting his head and looking toward Francella.
    She wanted to scream her rage and pound on him, but instead pressed a small skin-colored pad against her own neck, right over a throbbing vein. Almost immediately she felt a custom drug take effect, deadening her emotions and dampening twinges of personal guilt she had been feeling, concerning the things she had to do.
    Abruptly the nobleman’s eyes closed again, but he kept murmuring Noah’s abominable name. Finally he fell silent and his face went slack, though his chest heaved up and down as he clung stubbornly to life. She stared at a sapphire signet ring on his right hand and vowed that Noah would never possess it. She considered slipping it off the old man’s finger at the first opportunity, but hesitated. Soon she would have everything she wanted anyway.
    In order to maintain appearances, Francella fell back beside her father and re-secured his arm inside the electronic strap that had been holding it. His eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open.
    She spoke his name, but he did not respond. His breathing remained steady.
    Prince Saito had been injured by a hail of alloy-jacketed projectiles fired into his office building by the phony Guardians, who were conducci, mercenaries she had hired secretly. Murdering her father had been the primary objective of the professional fighters, but they may not have succeeded. She hated sloppy workmanship.
    “You’ll be fine,” she assured Prince Saito, though he seemed unable to hear her. “We’re taking care of you.”
    “Noah?” he murmured, with his eyelids still closed.
    “I’m Francella ,” she said, arching her hairless brows in displeasure. “Noah tried to kill you.”
    “He wouldn’t do that … wouldn’t do that … “ Prince Saito’s face became a twisted mask as he struggled to think, struggled for consciousness, and finally gave up the