Venport looked at the blank screens, knowing that the self-destruct routines had also been wiped. “I should have acted sooner.”
The giant asteroid narrowed the gap, filling their front viewport and finally engulfing them. As tractor beams drew them into the yawning gullet and along a deep shaft to an inner chamber, Venport saw firefly lines of lights, mechanical systems… and several motionless mechanical walkers with empty sockets waiting for a brain canister to be installed.
“It’s another cymek ship.” Zufa’s voice sounded bleak. “It’s no surprise they have factions in their rebellion. Remember… remember what Xerxes did to Norma.”
Venport said, “Damn, even if we can’t give any technical details about the space-folding engines, you and I would make valuable hostages to the cymeks.”
He saw a stony determination on Zufa’s face that rivaled the furious dedication she had had when she was younger, training her first Sorceress commandos to become telepathic weapons against the loathsome machines with human minds.
“We can still be heroes.” Refusing to look at him, she stared fixedly forward as they were drawn deeper into the asteroid chamber.
“The self-destruct is disabled,” he said.
“Mine isn’t,” she answered, then said nothing more.
When metal doorplates sealed behind them, garish lights filled the room. The uneven curved walls were linked with mirrored crystals that refracted the light as if through a diamond lens. He and Zufa sat side by side, shielding their eyes and only opening them narrowly.
Finally, they made out movement emerging from one of the tunnels, an ornate jewel-armored walker that was more magnificent and gaudy than any cymek monstrosity they had ever seen. Zufa’s upper lip curled back as she thought of the traitorous human mind installed in this extravagant, dragonlike machine form.
Then her face calmed, her expression cleared, and she looked at Venport. “It won’t be long now.” She closed her eyes to concentrate.
“Shouldn’t we wait and see what it wants?”
“It’s a cymek,” she said, her voice filled with a lifetime of hatred. “We know what it wants.”
The dragon-walker approached their ship and attempted to work the hatch from the outside. Slowed by the locks and the shorted electronic systems, the cymek began to use powerful tools to cut through the door hatch.
With their systems obliterated, Venport could transmit no distress call, nor could he communicate with the thinking machine. “We’re trapped,” he said.
“But not helpless.” Zufa drew deep breaths, and her skin became translucent, shimmering from within. She clutched Venport’s hand. He could feel that her fingers were hot. Her hair began to crackle and writhe above her head with static electricity.
“Norma learned how to control this,” she said. “Of all my Sorceresses, only my own daughter knew how to survive such a blast. Unfortunately, I never acquired the skill.”
Psychic energy welled within her, building to a critical point. She had taught so many others how to do this, how to let loose a mental blast against the hated cymeks. Considering its power, this dragon-creature must be an important enemy, perhaps even one of the surviving Titans.
Someone worth sacrificing myself for.
The cymek captor pried their ship open, and worked to squeeze part of its body inside. A mechanical arm and claw thrust through the gap. Venport clenched his teeth… and waited.
“I’m sorry I can’t control it, Aurelius…. I’m sorry for many things.”
“I just hope you’re right.”
The dragon-walker finally inserted a bulky head turret into their ship and announced through its speaker patch, “I am the Titan Hecate—”
It was all she needed to hear. Zufa unleashed her unstable psychic strength. As so many other Sorceresses had done before her, she broke down the barriers and emptied her reservoirs of mental energy.
The shockwave from Zufa’s psychic blast erupted like a supernova. Her last thought was a calm pride that she would obliterate one of the terrible enemies of mankind. Her purifying energy shot outward and boiled away every organic brain within range— Venport’s, Hecate’s, and her own.
* * *
AFTER ACCELERATING TO intercept the fleeing ship, Hecate’s asteroid drifted out of the Ginaz rubble belt. When Zufa’s blast obliterated the Titan’s mind, it severed all thoughtrode connections to the sophisticated navigation and guidance systems.
Out of control and captainless, the massive asteroid careened out of the rocky belt before falling down the gravity well and plunging like a cannonball into the atmosphere of Ginaz.
We carry graveyards in our souls, and lives resurrected.
— SWORDMASTER JAV BARRI
Late at night, the master mercenary Jool Noret stood exhausted and sweating, but feeling intensely alive after hours of strenuous training He was only thirty-two years old, but he felt like an ancient man. He had seen more combat and destroyed more machines than the most battle-scarred member of the Council of Veterans. And still he felt he had so much to do, many more enemies to destroy… a lifelong debt to repay.
Barefoot in the sand, Noret had fought for hours with the sensei mek Chirox, who continued to help him modify his fighting technique. Year after year, the combat robot had learned more from his best student, increasing his own skills.
In the ten years since its founding, the island school had grown, producing many successful mercenaries who modeled their own techniques after Jool Noret’s style of “fighting with utter abandon.” With a jaded eye, he watched some of the best trainees the sensei mek had produced. Many of them were expert at fighting the most fearsome enemy machines and had even developed specialized skills for defeating human opponents who wore personal Holtzman shields.
Chirox had excelled in his role as a teacher, and Noret was pleased to leave it at that. He had done what he could. Hundreds, even thousands, of exuberant converts had by now been scattered among the Jihad battle-fields, bringing terrible destruction to countless enemy machines.
In the final summation, he supposed, he had far more than made up for the loss of Zon Noret. But he didn’t know how to release himself from the prison of his own expectations.
Now under clear night skies and bright stars, Noret stood on the beach, wiping perspiration from his brow after a difficult workout. With complete abandon, he had fought to the zenith of his skill, every movement a symphony of perfection. He held his pulse sword, its smooth hilt slick in his palm. He would need to recharge the weapon soon, for he had used the disruptor bursts many times during his recent session.
Hearing loud shuddering booms in the distance, Noret looked up into the deep blackness. He watched a trail of fire across the starry sky, a meteor so bright it traced a glittering path over the serene cosmic ocean. It was the largest bolide he’d ever seen, and it kept growing brighter, more intense. He raised a hand to shield his eyes. Sonic booms followed it like a chain of percussions through the air.
Noret blinked, then staggered as a streak of intense purple branded his retinas. The falling object grew hotter, searing white.
Far out across the endless water, a blinding flash of impact swelled to the heavens as the space rock slammed into the deep sea. Less than a minute later, Noret heard the attenuated rumble of the explosion, sound waves skipping like stones across the water.
Chirox strode with heavy footsteps across the beach. The sensei mek stood beside Noret, focusing his optic sensors toward the horizon. “What has happened?”
“A meteor hit the ocean,” he said, still blinking his dazzled eyes. “It looked huge.”
In the darkness the sensei mek stared far out across the water. To the southwest, the lights from a far-off island glittered like jewels. As the two stared in anticipatory silence, one line of lights suddenly vanished, as if snuffed out. Then another set of lights— closer, this time— also went dark.
“What do you think that was?” Noret asked.
A moment later, they cou
ld discern the stampeding wall of water, an oncoming tidal wave set off by the asteroid impact. It rolled inexorably across the sea, oblivious to anything in its path. The roar grew louder.
Noret shook his head as realization swept over him faster than the oncoming wave could approach. “Oh, no.”
There would be no chance to evacuate the island, to get the students to safety. Already he heard shouts of dismay from the huts as the trainees emerged.
Noret gripped his pulse sword, as if wishing that he could do something heroic with the weapon. For the first time in years, Noret felt completely helpless. He could only stand next to Chirox while the rumbling wave hurtled over the reefs toward them.
“I knew I would find this eventually,” he said in a hoarse voice. “An enemy I cannot defeat.”
* * *
HOURS LATER, AS the foaming brown water receded from the flattened Ginaz archipelago, the currents faded and settled, leaving islands scoured clean of people and trees.
Plodding slowly up the slope to the wrecked island where he had trained so many students, the sturdy metallic mek lumbered out of the waves that still splashed around him. He had been bent, scraped, and scoured, but Chirox remained functional. He plodded onto the beach, each step heavy and labored.
In two of his six arms the combat robot carried the battered body of Jool Noret, his greatest student of all, crushed by the hammer of the tidal wave.
The only moving thing left on the desolate island, Chirox walked along the now barren strand. Gently, almost lovingly, he deposited Noret’s body on the damp ground. As near as the sensei mek could determine, this was approximately the spot where Zon Noret had also fallen. He swiveled his head and focused his optic sensors down on the body of his teacher and trainee.
During generations of service, the robot had spent much time interacting with humans, and had learned that organic life was resilient. Before long, the islands would become lush again, and mercenaries would return from their missions and repopulate the archipelago with eager new students.
As he had done for the past ten years, Chirox would teach mercenaries. They would continue to come to Ginaz in search of the elusive techniques of the great swordsman, Jool Noret. Chirox would teach them everything he knew, everything he had learned from the master.
Time. We always have too little, or too much— never just enough.
— NORMA CENVA, private lab journals
Though her body remained statuesque and beautiful, Norma Cenva had reverted to her old habits of working obsessively, and alone.
Inside the guidance chamber of one of the converted spacefolders nearing completion, she saw her own reflection on the shiny black walls. In the frenzy of her work she had not bathed or changed her clothes for days. Her worksuit and green laboratory smock, dirty and wrinkled, hung loosely around her body.
Other things were far more important to her. So far she and her construction teams had converted eighteen of the immense spacefolders into battleships, and they were about to be put into service— to benefit the Army of the Jihad, if she could only make them navigate more safely, without so many disastrous mistakes. More than forty new space-folding javelins were also under construction.
No one could help her, not even the most brilliant League engineers. Only she had any grasp of the immensely complex mathematics.
With her mother and Aurelius gone to Salusa, and with the other Sorceress guardians instructed to watch Norma’s young son, she had immersed herself in the necessities of solving the Holtzman navigation difficulties, of improving safety. Now that the Jihad troops had come here to the shipyards, the problem had reached a cruxpoint. She had to make everything work. It was all up to her.
Curiously, even though she had not been eating regularly or taking adequate fluids, her body showed no signs of weight loss or fatigue. But still she had her limits.
After three days of working without even a brief rest, Norma finally went to the bedchambers she occasionally shared with her husband, whenever she didn’t spend the night in her labs and testing chambers. Within moments she sank into a sleep of complete exhaustion, and when she woke, she felt dull-witted and listless.
By accident while dressing, Norma found a supply of melange Aurelius kept for himself inside his bureau. Since VenKee Enterprises still maintained a booming business in shipping spice from Arrakis, he always had some on hand, which he consumed regularly. He claimed it kept his thoughts sharp, his body young, his imagination soaring.
Norma thought it might be exactly what she needed right now. She consumed one of the melange wafers without any inkling of the proper dosage, especially not for her metamorphosed body. By the time she reached the spaceflight testing chambers, Norma could feel the effects of the spice building inside of her, like the contents of a cauldron coming to a boil. Flashes of light appeared inside her skull, galaxy-scale ideas.
She activated the computerized navigation system and began to run test sequences, demonstrating what it would be like to fly from Kolhar to a distant simulated battle zone. Star systems appeared and shifted as a pulsating orange light flashed, representing the path of the spacefolder. Separate holoscreens showed essential information, including astronomical coordinates and the historical movements of cosmic bodies.
It looked different now that the melange coursed through her bloodstream. Her fingers moved faster, with greater precision. Alternately, Norma sped and slowed the systems, checking for problems, watching the hypnotic universal dance as nebulas folded into one another.
So beautiful out here.
Abruptly, Norma realized that she had lost perspective, that she had imagined herself on a spacefolder in actual flight, but in slow motion. She had been on countless simulated voyages, but had shied from the real thing because of the ever-present danger that she might not survive. The loss of Norma Cenva would have been devastating to the development program.
Now she felt as if she were floating, adrift in a sea. The solution to the difficulties had dissolved into the ethereal water, and she needed to distill it back out….
Serious navigation problems persisted. Just a week ago, a vessel had emerged into the wrong sector without colliding with anything, and had been salvaged with no loss of life. Another spacefolder had skimmed a meteor, causing superficial damage to the hull and a fire that was quickly extinguished. And a small scout ship on a mission to find Primero Atreides had vanished in flight.
She glanced at the shimmering holoscreens with their data displays, but her eyes slipped out of focus, then locked onto another vista. Again she seemed to be in deep space, with suns blinking all around her as she sped past them. An infinity of solar systems, one right after another. Galaxies spinning, nebulas glowing in every color, intense light, and the blackest black in creation.
Then, like her earlier tortured vision involving her maternal lineage, when all of the forms of her ancestors had merged into one she selected for her own likeness, the suns consolidated and burned with a fierce incandescence. She seemed to be heading toward all of them, into a brilliant light.
Then the melange hit her even harder.
Terrified and thrilled, Norma gazed ahead, and plunged through the cosmos. The image of a human being filled the foreground— Serena Butler in a white robe— but for only an instant. The Priestess of the Jihad glowed golden and then disappeared into the flames. But somehow the flames were not real. Norma could not comprehend what she was seeing.
Norma saw through the eyes of Serena, to a throng of thinking machines around the Jihad leader. Before Norma could react, the apparition of Serena diminished in a wink, leaving only an ember in her memory.
Then she saw her mother and Aurelius in terrible danger… surrounded by cymeks who wanted to steal the space-folding technology from them. A current of fear shot through Norma, and she struggled to control her vision. She saw the powerful Sorceress reveling in her last moments, just as she had taught so many apprentices, blazing as her own telepathic powers consumed her… and Norma’s
husband, too, unable to withstand the supernova of energy.
Aurelius is dead, Norma realized with gnawing dread, not sure if the vision foretold something, or if it reflected what had already happened… or if she could do anything to prevent it. Serena Butler. My husband. My mother. All of them gone, or soon to be lost.
Norma saw through the flames ahead of her, into the heart of an immense, all-consuming sun. In her mental spacefolder, Norma Cenva passed through the light into a hidden realm, revealing a new universe.
She saw giant sandworms writhing on the desert world of Arrakis, and an eternal substance that the people called the Water of Life. Sustenance for the body, the mind, and the soul.
A pathway to infinity, she thought. And perhaps beyond.
She saw mankind’s future, with space-folding ships connecting a vast empire… a civilization that remained linked to the past through a long line of Sorceresses dressed in black, hooded robes.
And she heard a harmonious, hypnotic chant from the desert: “Muad’Dib… Muad’Dib… Muad’Dib…” Norma joined the ecstasy of voices, then swallowed the Water of Life, and screamed in rapture.
She awoke from her vision, hoping to see the face of Aurelius kneeling over her and stroking her blond hair.
But she was alone, nearly crushed by the astounding, shattering implications of all she had witnessed.
“I have seen into the heart of the universe.”
There are countless ways to die. The worst is to fade away without purpose.
— SERENA BUTLER, last message to Xavier Harkonnen
People all across the League of Nobles simmered, and waited, and hoped for Serena Butler to return with a glorious announcement of everlasting peace. The Ivory Tower Cogitors remained in Zimia, studying documents at the great cultural libraries of Salusa Secundus. For the first time in decades, the future looked bright.
Dune: The Machine Crusade Page 70