Dune: The Machine Crusade (52 page)

Overhead, a robot-controlled ship careened on an aberrant approach vector before slamming into one of the industrial buildings.

Sensing the emergency, but not understanding the rash of breakdowns, Erasmus left his villa and traveled with great haste into the main city on Corrin. He found trustee humans, alarmed slaves, and autonomous robots all moving about in apparent confusion.

At the center of the city, the giant Central Spire had gone berserk. Like a writhing serpent, the flowmetal structure convulsed and spasmed, shrinking into the ground and then abruptly launching into the sky, smashing other buildings as if it were the tentacle of an enraged octopus. Omnius’s erratic thoughts guided the movement and restructure of the building.

Erasmus stared at the bizarre display, feeling simulated emotions of confusion, amusement, and horror. Had Corrin suffered the strange breakdown virus, like these other worlds?

Determined and curious, the robot marched around the capital city, trying to communicate with other watcheyes. Everywhere, he found nonfunctioning units and broken parts lying about. He then discovered, from speaking with other robots, that all Omnius systems on the planet were completely shut down in a pervasive paralysis. Unguided vehicles crashed, industrial equipment overloaded and began to burn.

The entire software presence of Omnius had been erased.

“I am declaring a crisis,” Erasmus said over an open communication channel. “The evermind has been damaged, and we must impose control before the planetary breakdowns worsen.” As one of the few independent robots, Erasmus could make swift decisions and was therefore much more efficient than other robots.

He found the situation exciting. Since he had been programmed to be loyal, it had never occurred to Erasmus to usurp Omnius. But now the independent robot found himself faced with a predicament. He had an obligation to maintain machine control on the vulnerable planet— even though the evermind had promised to terminate him.

Not wasting any time, Erasmus imposed his own authority, isolating as many Omnius backups as he could locate, those untouched by the insidious virus causing this cascade of disasters. He could piece together enough computer control to keep Corrin secure. Eventually, he would restore most of the systems while purging the dangerously corrupted files and thoughts from the evermind.

Along with a few careful edits and revisions of his own.

The robot’s flowmetal face stiffened into a mask of determination. Occupying a unique position in machine history, Erasmus had the opportunity to save the primary Synchronized World. If he succeeded, he should be owed something for his trouble. This did not make him disloyal, or even devious. It made him uniquely valuable. He simply needed to survive. He had a right to survive!

If I don’t, we will never understand humans and can never defeat them on the battlefield.

Firmly believing in the logic of his actions, Erasmus created false memories for Omnius, altering scenarios as required. The evermind had no need for the long-dismissed information in the Earth update anyway. The robot’s historical rewrite was not perfect, but he thought it might just allow his continued existence.

GENERALLY, ERASMUS PREFERRED to deal with great questions in a theoretical manner, rather than by solving problems through overt action. Thus he was curious, even surprised, to find himself launching a military counterstrike— against another independent robot, at that.

Despite his best repair efforts, the interrelated systems on Corrin continued to reel, ruined by the parasitic reprogramming routines hidden within the lost Earth-Omnius update. Erasmus likened the situation to a human with a brain disorder undergoing a violent seizure. Any good doctor would isolate and strap down the victim for his own good. Here, he had done the same with the evermind, mitigating the damage by swiftly isolating Omnius’s systems.

It took him little time or effort to determine that the carrier that had infected Corrin must be Seurat himself. Seurat had also gone to those eight other worlds that had broken down. Unwittingly, the robot captain had delivered his contaminated update, and various Omnius incarnations on other Synchronized Worlds had absorbed the new information along with a programming virus that acted like a silent, ticking bomb.

He summoned a squadron of military robots that could link with the swiftest thinking machine ships. “Track and intercept that update ship. Prevent delivery of further copies of the Earth-Omnius update. You are authorized to destroy Seurat and his vessel if necessary. Your highest priority is to avert further programming breakdowns, such as those we have endured here on Corrin.”

The combat robots swiveled and marched off with thudding footsteps toward razor-sharp craft that could slice through space at high speed. The automated military vessels roared away, spilling smoke into the crimson-stained sky. Their geometric silhouettes crossed the swollen orb of the red giant, like birds of prey as they shot into space.

Erasmus felt a certain kinship with Seurat, but such feelings did not extend to sympathy. The evermind had been severely damaged, and Erasmus would do what was required to clean up the mess.

Not that Omnius would ever deign to show gratitude.

THE UPDATE SHIP flew faster and more smoothly than the
Dream Voyager
that Seurat had shared with Vorian Atreides. Because of the adaptations necessary to accommodate the human trustee— life-support systems and creature comforts— the efficiency of the old update ship had been compromised.

Still, the time Seurat had spent engaging in military games and other mental diversions with Vorian Atreides more than compensated for the differences. The robot pilot had come to understand the eccentricities of human nature in far greater detail than by simply scanning the vast Omnius databases.

Unfortunately, his human copilot had overtly betrayed him, which made it difficult to justify pleasant memories of the young man. Even so, the robot captain had avoided deleting those familiar, almost sentimental data files….

When he saw the fast-moving vessels streaking toward him, spreading out in an intercept-and-attack pattern, Seurat thought instantly of League Armada ships. During the final atomic strike on Earth they had fired upon him, pursuing his craft as he attempted to flee the planetary battleground with the last update of Omnius. While most human bombers and fighters had concentrated on the atomic attack, Vorian Atreides had pursued Seurat, stunning the robot captain and disabling his engines….

Now, Seurat quickly determined that he did not have sufficient defensive weapons to fight off such an overwhelming force. Then he realized they were Omnius warships, dispatched from Corrin.

“Stand down or face destruction,” Erasmus’s robots ordered, speaking in a machine language that Seurat automatically interpreted. “Do not try to escape. Power off your engines and prepare to be boarded.”

“Of course I will stand down. I always do whatever Omnius commands.”

“The Corrin evermind is severely damaged,” one of the robot ships reported. “Erasmus has issued explicit orders for us to intercept you and retrieve your update sphere before you can cause further damage to the Synchronized Worlds.”

“I caused no damage,” Seurat protested. “I carry the lost final thoughts of the Earth-Omnius. Every Synchronized World must incorporate these thoughts into Omnius in order to understand human thinking—”

“If you do not surrender the update sphere, we have instructions to destroy your vessel.”

Seurat did not ponder the matter for long. “Come aboard then, and I will relinquish my charge.”

As the combat ships linked with his, the military robots transmitted a full summary of what had occurred on Corrin shortly after Seurat had departed. Astonished, the robot captain could not deny the conclusions drawn by Erasmus. To his dismay he also learned from them about other programming breakdowns… failed everminds on eight planets where he had stopped on his update run. It was like spreading a highly contagious disease. And Seurat had been the carrier.

As armored soldier meks came aboard his cold, airless craft, he said, “I shall return to Corrin immediately and submit to a complete programming rewrite. I will allow my personality to be erased and subsumed, if Omnius feels that is necessary.”

“Omnius is currently off-line and isolated,” the soldier mek said. “During his absence, Erasmus makes all decisions.”

“Then I hope to convince Erasmus that I did not intend to cause any harm.”

The combat robots seized the stored gelsphere that contained a duplicate of the Earth-Omnius as well as the buried programming virus. Such a pity to waste so much vital information.

His gelcircuitry mind spun through possibilities, and Seurat realized how he had been duped. Only Vorian Atreides could have accomplished such a clever, costly trick. In a teasing tone the human trustee had always threatened to sabotage Seurat’s plans, and now he had actually done so. What sort of practical joke was this? It had caused extraordinary damage to the machine planets.

Seurat wondered if he was capable of laughter, of enjoying a bit of twisted humor. Given time, he would find a way to respond with a sufficiently destructive joke of his own, if ever he saw Vorian Atreides again.

T
he good-humored soldier who called himself “Virk” spent several days getting to know Leronica Tergiet on Caladan. At first she seemed annoyed with his persistence, unable to take his interest in her seriously, and then she was genuinely surprised, for she had watched him turn down more beautiful and more willing women.

“So you’re not fooling after all?” She sat next to Vor in the tavern after she’d chased away the fishermen customers at the late-night closing time. They all needed to be at their boats by sunrise anyway, when the tides went out. Though he pretended to be just another one of the jihadi soldier-engineers during off-duty hours, Vor had made it clear that he had to begin construction on the military outpost up the coast.

“I wasn’t making up tales,” Vor said. “I know what I value… and I think that getting to know you is worth the time and effort.” Even on Earth, under machine domination, he’d always had plenty of pleasure slaves available to him; however, none of those women had ever laughed with him or talked as a companion or friend. Not like this.

In mock embarrassment, Leronica put a fluttering hand to her chest. “Worth the effort? My, my, what a compliment. Do such sweet words usually work on lovestruck maidens?”

He shrugged impishly. “Usually.”

Leronica regarded him soberly, hands on her hips. “Virk, I think you might be pursuing me just because you believe I pose a challenge.”

“No,” he said with all the sincerity he could muster. “I pursue you because I find you fascinating. That is the absolute truth.”

She studied him with eyes that reminded him of Serena, and gradually the skepticism melted away. She put her hand over his, and her expression softened. “All right, then. I believe you.”

THE JIHAD ENGINEERING team remained on Caladan for more than four months, excavating a new base on the uninhabited, windswept headlands several hours by methcar north of the fishing village. The position was best for uplink to the new network of surveillance and communications satellites in orbit.

The jihadis built watch station towers and barracks for the contingent that would remain here. Personnel would be rotated out every few years, but this would be their home for now, as they kept vigil against the depredations of thinking machines. Vor also sent survey crews to complete a full mapping of the continents and oceans, providing the first detailed database of Caladan’s weather and currents. He was glad he could help improve the lives of these people….

Walking on the coastal headlands above the Sea of Caladan, Vor extended his hand to assist Leronica on the steep path. She didn’t need the help, but he enjoyed simply holding her hand, touching her strong fingers and playing the part of the gallant gentleman, a concept that few of the hardy local fishermen had ever considered.

“The weather is pleasant here, with fresh air and a sea that provides all the food you could want,” Vor said. They stood shoulder to shoulder, feeling the salty breeze on their faces. The silence was not uncomfortable, but refreshingly pleasant, without expectations.

Leronica looked around, as if trying to see what attracted him so much to this rugged place. “Familiarity bleaches the bright colors from a landscape. I spend most of my time thinking of other places, not this one.”

“I have traveled extensively, Leronica. Believe me, Caladan is a gem, a secret best kept from the rest of the League of Nobles. I’m surprised this planet isn’t more heavily settled.”

“We’re not far from some of the Synchronized Worlds.” Leronica climbed beside him, her brown mass of curls ruffled by wind. She often tied back her hair when she had to work in the tavern kitchens or brewery, but Vor preferred her flowing tresses displayed freely. When she had finally permitted him to run his fingers through her ringlets, the sensation had proved even more sensual than he had anticipated.

“So far Caladan hasn’t been enough of a target for Omnius to convert it into a machine-dominated planet, but we still suffer occasional raids by cymeks and robots.”

“Politics and tactics are interesting,” Vor said, “but other things are important to me, too. I feel a need right
here
.” He pressed a fist against his solar plexus, then looked around. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to build a great house here on the cliffs overlooking the village?”

Leronica laughed. “I know all about your League of Nobles, Virk. On Caladan we can do without our own local nobleman, thankyou.”

“Even with you as my lady, Leronica? And me as your baron, or count, or duke?”

“You, a common soldier-engineer, as a duke?” She swatted him playfully. “Enough of your nonsense.”