Dune: The Machine Crusade

by Brian Herbert; Kevin J. Anderson

  Xavier felt weak and nauseated. Nothing Iblis said could justify what he and the Tlulaxa monsters had done. “Did… did Serena know about this?” he asked finally, sounding defeated.

  “No, but Tlulaxa technology enabled us to complete the illusion of her martyrdom. We used the sample cells the Tlulaxa took from her when she visited Thalim ten years ago to grow a genetically identical clone body, which we then mutilated horribly. We captured every moment in highly detailed images, staged every motion, and made Omnius out to be the monster that we all know he is.”

  Now Xavier had difficulty grasping the enormity of this revelation as well. “Then Serena wasn’t tortured? She wasn’t murdered by the thinking machines—”

  “I gave orders that her own chief Seraph Niriem kill her, if the Corrin-Omnius did not. Serena intended to goad Omnius to murder. But if she failed… well, we couldn’t allow that to happen. It was to be a quick and painless blow that would thoroughly astonish the thinking machines.” Iblis shrugged.

  Xavier reeled in disbelief. “Why would she do such a terrible thing? What did she have to gain—” Then he cut himself off. “Of course. She threw fuel onto the flames of the Jihad. She knew our people would accept the Cogitors’ peace terms out of sheer exhaustion, unless she gave her life to make sure that would never happen.”

  Smiling, the Grand Patriarch spread his hands as if the answer was obvious. “Can you imagine any better way to stir up every human in the League? Serena couldn’t, and neither could I. I simply made certain that Serena would succeed. Even the protesters fell silent when they saw what Omnius had done to their beloved Priestess.”

  A moan from one of the half-butchered Zensunnis turned Xavier’s attention back to the bubbling and humming medical beds. He swallowed hard. “Did she know about the organs, where so many of them came from— all these people, cut up like garments in a tailor shop?”

  The Grand Patriarch flashed a knowing smile, while his Jipol guards and the Tlulaxa stood uneasily around him. “Serena had other burdens to bear, and she was told only what she needed to know. She asked that I find a way to care for the wounded Jihad fighters, to get them the organs they desperately needed. While I admit these facilities are not pleasant, they fill a necessary function. Surely, you can see that?” He smiled broadly.

  “Think of Serena and her memory, Primero. You know how much she praised these farms and all the good they did. You know how badly Serena wanted Tlulax to join the League of Nobles. Regardless of the method, this is truly what she wanted all along.” He took an ominous step closer, pretending to be paternal and understanding. “Xavier Harkonnen, I know you loved her, and I beg of you— do not act prematurely. Do not ruin Serena’s legacy for all of us.”

  Xavier struggled to keep his fury in check. “No, I wouldn’t think of it,” he said. He hoped he had convinced Iblis.

  The Tlulaxa and the Jipol guards looked at him suspiciously, but Xavier kept his gaze fixed on the smug Grand Patriarch. “I’ve had enough of these horrors, Iblis— enough of the war. When we return to Salusa Secundus, I ask that you… accept my resignation as Primero in the Army of the Jihad.”

  For an instant, Iblis looked surprised, then pleased. Quickly, he masked his expression and nodded. “As you wish— with full honors, of course. You have served well, Primero, but the war must go on until Omnius is defeated. For Serena’s sake we will continue to do whatever needs to be done.”

  “Of course,” Xavier said. “Just call on me, and I will serve for Serena’s sake. For now… I just want to go home.”

  But he had other plans, if only he could implement them quickly enough.

  True creation, the sort that interests me, eventually becomes independent of its creator. Evolution and experience take the original product far from its origin, with an uncertain outcome.

  — ERASMUS, Reflections on Sentient Biologicals

  Throughout the ebb and flow of the Jihad, Omnius update ships continued to fly predictable, endless courses, from one Synchronized World to another. The unchanging nature of the sentient evermind created its greatest vulnerability.

  Agamemnon and his unified cymeks knew exactly where to wait for the incoming vessel on the fringes of the Richese system. The general had left Juno on Bela Tegeuse to continue to rally and convert the deluded population there. After nine years, their rebellion now had plenty of neo-cymek fighters who owed everything to the three surviving Titans.

  And Omnius had not taken the threat seriously.

  While waiting in ambush, Agamemnon and Dante detected the arrival of the silver-and-black update ship as it flew obliviously along its route between Synchronized Worlds. The programmed robot captain was doing his job, never seeing his part in the overall conflict.

  Six neo-cymek warships hovered, ready to strike. All of Agamemnon’s vessels had been augmented with heavy armor and superior firepower, built by the restored industries on Bela Tegeuse. Omnius had added small batteries of defensive weaponry to many of the update courier vessels, but it was only a token gesture, completely inadequate to protect the data spheres from cymek attack.

  Agamemnon knew his rebels could pick off this one with ease. The neos converted from the Tegeusan population were anxious to show their worth and strike blows in the continuing fight.

  Beowulf lumbered along with them. The oldest neo-cymek had been severely damaged by Hecate’s traitorous attack, his ship nearly destroyed by the bombardment of kinetic spheres. While he’d tried to escape, the heavy impacts sent power surges through delicate thoughtrodes, searing portions of his organic brain. The aftermath left the damaged Beowulf drifting in the asteroid belt of Ginaz, where he was rescued by a cymek scouting party. Because of the injury, he could no longer function at his previous level. His mind would never be the same.

  In a rare and uncharacteristic show of compassion, however, the Titan general had allowed the crippled and sluggish cymek to accompany this attack, though Beowulf would be of little assistance.

  Though the earlier strike against Zufa Cenva and Aurelius Venport had not turned out as planned, Agamemnon knew that his two intended human victims were dead… as was Hecate, thus preventing her from further interfering with his plans. An acceptable result.

  Agamemnon was also finding it increasingly useful to sprinkle eavesdroppers and fully trained spies throughout the prominent League Worlds. Given a taste of immortality with the promise of becoming neo-cymeks, the people of Bela Tegeuse had volunteered to act as observers and data gatherers, which enabled the Titans to fight this two-front war much more effectively. Omnius, too, used human spies, though cautiously, since he feared that exposure to free humanity would corrupt them beyond repair— as had occurred with Agamemnon’s own son Vorian.

  “We are ready to move against the target, General,” Dante announced.

  Beowulf made an eager noise and finally adjusted his communication systems so that his words were distinct, though slow. “Time to kill Omnius.”

  “Yes. Time to kill Omnius.” Agamemnon gave the order for the ambush ships to swoop down and converge upon the update vessel.

  Agamemnon and Dante observed from a safe distance while the neo-cymeks charged in to surround and detain the update ship. They had instructions to inflict no damage that could not be repaired quickly. Within moments their precise shots had taken the update ship’s engines off-line and burned out the implanted transmission systems, leaving the vessel to drift free.

  The robotic captain would attempt to send a distress signal, but the Richese-Omnius would never know what had happened. Agamemnon and his team would finish here, commandeer the ship, and streak toward the unsuspecting machine planet before any delay could be noted.

  “Hurry,” he said. “We don’t have much time.”

  The cymek ships forcibly docked with the update vessel. One of the Tegeusan neos boarded first, stalking with clattering mechanical footsteps across the chill metal decks. Agamemnon followed and headed for the pilot chamber, eager to crush another silver gelsp
here in his metal claw.

  Inside the cockpit, the copper-skinned robot captain utterly surprised the bold neo-cymek. He fired an explosive weapon, and a dense projectile slammed into the neo’s brain canister, ripping it open and splattering the gray matter and electrafluid in a broad splash across the walls of the cockpit.

  Agamemnon reared up, raising the weapons implanted in his articulated walker body. The robot turned a mirror-smooth copper face toward him. “Ah, it is Agamemnon. I suppose I should have fired at you first. But then Vorian might have been upset with me.”

  The Titan general hesitated, recognizing the independent robot Seurat, who had taken Vor as his copilot on innumerable update missions. “On the contrary, Seurat. I believe my son would have been delighted if you’d done the difficult work for him.”

  The robot captain simulated a chuckle. “I do not believe so, Agamemnon. He seems to prefer facing his own problems, and savoring his victory.”

  Other cymeks had crawled aboard the update ship, crowding in behind the general. The other update captains had been tossed out of airlocks, dumped still-smoking out into space, but Seurat might actually provide valuable information.

  “Take this robot as a prisoner,” Agamemnon instructed the armored neos. “I want to debrief him.”

  Seurat stood firm. “I cannot allow you to take the update sphere. My programming prevents it.”

  “Run an analysis and consider your options. I can easily fire a pulse burst and shut down all your systems, then remove you from the update ship. I can fire a projectile and destroy you entirely. Or you can follow me now and suffer minimal physical damage. No scenario exists in which you can protect your copy of Omnius.”

  The neo-cymeks clattered forward as Seurat pondered the choices.

  “Your assessment is correct, Agamemnon,” the robot said. “I would prefer to remain undamaged. Perhaps other options will arise.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  As two neo-cymeks hauled the robot pilot away to one of the waiting ships, Agamemnon went forward and ripped open the containment chamber that held the Omnius update. Though it was not a necessary component of his plan, he crushed the silvery gelsphere, squeezing the evermind into a glittering lump of circuitry.

  While he enjoyed himself in this manner, other cymeks moved through the update ship, and vacuum-hardened robots crawled over the outer hull like metal insects. They repaired the damage their weapons had done and installed new transmission spikes, hurrying to get the craft moving again toward Richese.

  “The engines are functional again, General Agamemnon,” Dante reported. “This update ship can now proceed.”

  Using their knowledge of the evermind’s predictable routes, the cymek rebels had already tracked down and intercepted ten update ships. They had destroyed enough copies of Omnius that the widely separated Synchronized Worlds were already becoming fragmented. The scattered evermind incarnations were no longer acting in a coordinated fashion.

  “Install the new programming and turn our latest weapon loose.” Agamemnon worked the piloting controls the robot captain would have used.

  The update ship still had its appropriate password signals and approved linkages for the Richese-Omnius. After this vessel passed through the next set of defensive perimeters, a new course would kick in. The engines would accelerate the update vessel until, like a fast-moving hammer, it swung down through the atmosphere, and delivered an incredible crushing blow to the citadel nexus of the computer evermind.

  Then the cymeks could swarm into the vulnerable Synchronized World. Agamemnon already had a large military force waiting to pounce, assimilate, and mop up— massive ships constructed on Bela Tegeuse, joined by the recovered and reprogrammed robotic fighting force they had originally stolen from Omnius. As soon as this juggernaut update ship slammed into Richese, cymek marauders would rush down and complete the destruction. The Richesian thinking machines might attempt to rally, but the Omnius substations could never unify them quickly enough.

  The Titan general climbed back aboard his own ship, and all the cymeks watched the reprogrammed update vessel descend into the planet’s orbital plane. Richese would soon be under cymek rule, another step in creating a new Time of Titans. There, Juno would again work to convert the downtrodden, hopeless humans into faithful cymek allies.

  And perhaps the captive Seurat would provide some insight into how the Titan general could deal with his traitorous son Vorian….

  “Prepare to make our move,” Agamemnon said. “This time there is no doubt of our victory.”

  I do not give a damn about history. I will do what is right.

  — PRIMERO XAVIER HARKONNEN, letter to Vorian Atreides

  When they left Tlulax, Xavier piloted the diplomatic vessel himself, taking the controls as he preferred to do. It had been his proforma duty on the inbound journey to the Thalim system, and though the old man now looked deeply weary, he insisted on clinging to his role. The Primero seemed lethargic as he navigated the ship away from the checkerboard city of Bandalong.

  Looking eminently satisfied, Iblis Ginjo stood in the cockpit, grasping the back of the passenger seat as he stared down at the clean city grid, sparkling with metal and glass. The hillsides spread out in neat rows, stitched with the real, though deceptive, organ farms.

  Aboard the diplomatic transport, five Jipol sergeants watched Xavier’s every move, but the old Primero looked tired and defeated as he worked the controls. He claimed he was anxious to get back home.

  In his heart, though, he doubted Iblis would let him reach Salusa Secundus alive. The Grand Patriarch could not afford to let his scandalous secrets be exposed, especially those involving the Tlulaxa organ farms and the charade of Serena’s martyrdom.

  No, the Jipol sergeants would stage some accident, kill Xavier en route, and return to Zimia feigning grief and mourning the old hero. Then Iblis would proceed with his plans to destroy Caladan, seize prisoners as involuntary organ donors, and forge ahead with righteous anger against the cruel thinking machines.

  “I have always done what was best for the Jihad, Xavier,” Iblis said in a conciliatory voice, still trying to convince him. “Think of how strong we are now. The ends justify the means, don’t they?”

  “We all could say the same,” Xavier answered. “Vorian, Serena, and I. This has been an incredibly long war. It has driven us to do many things we are not proud of.”

  “Serena herself would have been proud of our actions,” Iblis insisted. “We must be true to her vision. We owe nothing less to her memory.”

  Xavier pretended weary agreement. He had to fool the Grand Patriarch into believing he was no threat, that he would take no brash actions. But at all costs, he could not allow this corrupt man to return to his seat of power. Something had to be done before it was too late.

  He had already discreetly given young Quinto Paolo his secret orders.

  Xavier’s diplomatic transport craft operated with conventional starship engines that would take many weeks to journey from the Thalim system to Salusa Secundus. For emergencies, one of the small kindjal scouts in the lower hangar had been outfitted with new Holtzman engines from the Kolhar shipyards. Traveling through folded space was still risky, however, and many Jihad pilots had vanished on routine flights. But if speed was imperative, there was no other choice. Quinto Paolo had accepted the risk.

  After Xavier flew the diplomatic craft beyond the limits of Tlulax’s atmosphere, he maneuvered slowly and carefully away from the planet, as if aligning the proper vector for a launch across the vast gulf of open space.

  Warning indicators flashed on his control panel— as Xavier had expected.

  Iblis spotted them immediately. “What is that?”

  Xavier pretended to be confused. “It seems the hangar hatch is opening. Hmmm, perhaps it is just a malfunction.” Iblis’s Jipol sergeants looked around in anger and surprise.

  Iblis saw through the ruse. “Your adjutant! What have you put him up to?”

&nbs
p; Xavier looked at his status screens again, dropping the pretense. “He’s ready to launch a foldspace kindjal. I don’t think your men will be fast enough to stop him.”

  Iblis snapped to the guards, “Go! All five of you. Prevent that ship from leaving. Bring Paolo here immediately!” The Jipol sergeants bounded out of the cockpit and down the corridor, but Quinto Paolo was already on his way.

  Xavier was content, knowing he had timed everything perfectly. Iblis Ginjo and his Jipol had kept their eyes on old Primero Harkonnen, but no one had expected the fresh-faced young officer to do anything. They also had not considered the possibility of Xavier acting so soon, even before they entered open space.

  “I don’t know what you think your man can accomplish,” Iblis said, his expression disdainful. “Who would he talk to? Who would believe him? I control all news in the League, all public information. The people believe in me, so I can denounce him and you. Where could he possibly go, anyway?”

  Smiling, Xavier leaned back in the pilot’s seat and worked the controls. The armored cockpit door hissed and slammed, sealing him inside with the Grand Patriarch. While Iblis whirled in alarm, Xavier permanently disabled the mechanism.

  The doors could never be opened now, at least not with any of the tools or systems aboard. He had just checkmated his opponent. As a gambler, Vorian would have been proud of him.

  The diplomatic ship remained in the Thalim system, but Paolo had already made his run for the stars. He had folded space and gotten away safely.

  Angrily, Iblis hammered at the sealed cockpit door, trying to open it, but when he saw that it was fruitless, he turned back to Xavier and glared at him. “I had hoped you would not be so foolish about this, Primero. I thought you understood my position.”

  “I know many things about you, Iblis. The organ farms are only one of your unforgivable crimes and deceits.” Xavier keyed in the navigation controls, locking their course— then shorted out the entire control panel, taking the bridge command center off-line. Now Iblis could do nothing to stop him.