Dune: The Machine Crusade (77 page)

Serena Butler found them anyway.

Though she had lost benevolent Kwyna at the City of Introspection, these other mysterious Cogitors remained abroad. Vidad and his “Ivory Tower” philosophers had always isolated themselves, avoiding any involvement in human affairs, although they must have had an outside source of income and supplies. Now she intended to go directly to them and request— no,
demand
— that they help the human race. How could they refuse?

Even the Ivory Tower Cogitors had to see that neutrality was no longer possible. They had been humans once, but unlike the Titans and neocymeks, they had never allied themselves with Omnius. With their millennia of insight, they might be able to suggest courses of action that humanity had never considered. Serena believed that their coveted knowledge might be the linchpin on which ultimate victory against the Synchronized Worlds would hang.

For eight years now, Iblis’s carefully selected assistants for these Cogitors had served on Hessra. Serena knew very little about the replacements, aside from the fact that she had administered a benediction to them shortly before their departure. She remembered thinking at the time that they all seemed exceedingly pious and well mannered.

Since then, Iblis had confided to her that these secondaries were given instructions to speak quietly to the Cogitors about the centuries of damage that evil thinking machines had inflicted upon the human race. The new secondaries frequently challenged the morality of Cogitor isolation, trying to make Vidad and his contemplative associates realize that simply remaining neutral was not necessarily virtuous.

In her ship, she headed directly to Hessra, accompanied only by Niriem and four additional Seraphim. Serena’s vessel set down on a snow-and-ice platform that the secondaries had swept in preparation for her arrival. Rising out of the gray rock, the Cogitors’ stronghold was made up of black metal towers and cylindrical protrusions capped with pointed domes, barely visible in a backwash of frothing snow.

The Cogitors had originally constructed this retreat on an exposed tongue of mountain high above a gaping canyon, but over the course of twenty centuries a ponderous glacier had crawled down from the high crags and was beginning to enfold the towers. The thick ice was greenish blue from chemical contaminants that had settled out of Hessra’s sour atmosphere.

So far, the tide of ice had risen to cover half of the lower foundations and basement levels of the structures, and Serena wondered if the Cogitors would ever abandon this stronghold. She felt an implacable sense of time here. When the glaciers eventually overwhelmed the towers, perhaps Vidad and his complacent fellows would remain within their tomb of ice, still thinking their impossible thoughts, but going nowhere.

Unless Serena could jar them into participation.

Wrapped in insulated parkas, a group of secondaries emerged from the frosty doors in the main tower, led by a man she recognized as Keats. Serena staggered forward, coughing in the thin, unpleasant air and feeling the bite of cold wind. Niriem stepped forward to accompany her, but Serena waved the woman off, saying she preferred to continue alone. She told the Seraphim to remain aboard the ship, that this was a matter she could best handle by herself.

The secondaries ushered Serena into the tunnel. They smelled of chemicals, as if they had been working in a laboratory. One of the yellow-robed secondaries touched a lever, and the heavy tunnel door closed behind them with an echoing thump. As Serena proceeded with her somber escort, cold tendrils of breath rose before her eyes.

The corridors spiraled like a tightening corkscrew, before finally descending to a large chamber with broad open walls and windows covered by solid curtains of glacial ice. Strange designs reminiscent of Muadru runes had been etched into the ice blocks. Like large game pieces, six Ivory Tower Cogitors rested on burnished pedestals, their brain canisters glowing with the faint blue of life-support electrafluids. Fresh tanks of the fluid, far more than the Cogitors could ever need, were stacked in alcoves. She wondered what they intended to do with so much of the vital liquid.

Steeling herself, Serena called to mind various debating techniques she had learned from Kwyna and Iblis Ginjo. In this encounter she would need all the skills she could muster. She hoped Keats and his ambitious fellow secondaries had been skillful in laying the groundwork for her plea.

“You seek advice?” Vidad inquired.

His voice emanated from a speaker patch implanted in the bottom of his preservation canister, much like a cymek’s. The system looked new, and Serena realized it was an innovation that Keats’s secondaries had incorporated to allow the caretakers to converse with more than one Cogitor at once. Before this modification, Vidad and the others must have sat through centuries of placid silence tended by meek secondaries; now, with Iblis’s people constantly engaging the reclusive geniuses in debates, Vidad’s life must have changed greatly.

“I require your help,” Serena said, selecting her words and tone of voice carefully, to show civility and respect, as well as strength. “Our Jihad has dragged on for many years at the cost of billions of human lives. Our determination has gradually turned to stagnation. I am willing to do whatever is necessary to achieve a swift and decisive victory.”

Vidad did not reply, but one of the other Cogitors said, “According to our current secondaries, your Jihad was launched only a few decades ago.”

“And you’re wondering why I sound impatient?”

“Just an observation.”

“Unlike you, I am limited to a few decades of existence. It is natural for me to seek success in my own lifetime.”

“Yes, I can see that. Yet the overall human battle against Omnius has lasted barely more than a millennium, which is not really that long, when one considers the larger picture. The Cogitors in our small group have memories extending back twice as long, you know.”

Vidad added, “As a transient human, your perception of time is skewed and limited, Serena Butler, and not relevant to the canvas upon which history is painted.”

“Since human beings record their own history, the human lifespan is the only meaningful measure of time,” she countered with a slight edge to her tone. “You Cogitors were once human.”

Pausing, Serena took a deep, agitated breath, and attempted to remove the stridency from her speech. In a calmer voice, she said, “Think of the human victims of thinking machines. Each person who died had a brain— which means each one of them had the
potential
to become a Cogitor like yourselves. Think of the revelations and insights we might have gained, had those lives not been prematurely snuffed out by Omnius.”

The Cogitors remained silent, absorbing her words. Keats and the other secondaries stood unobtrusively near the walls of the room, their eager eyes regarding Serena with obvious admiration.

“We agree it is a tragedy,” Vidad finally answered.

Serena’s voice rose again. “For thirty-four years, human warriors have fought hard and endured much suffering. An entire generation has been decimated, and my people are beginning to lose hope. They fear that our Jihad is not winnable, that war will continue for centuries without victory. They despair of seeing any imminent resolution.”

“A valid concern,” one Cogitor said.

“But I don’t want it to be! We cannot lose momentum now. It took the murder of my son and an extraordinary rallying effort to make people fight back against the thinking machines, after so many centuries of apathy and lack of initiative.”

“This is a human problem, and of no concern to the Cogitors.”

“With all due respect, Cogitor— in times of crisis cowards often justify inaction with such comments. Review your own historical memories.” The Jipol secondaries grinned, looking sidelong at her. Perhaps they had made similar comments to Vidad themselves. “You have great wisdom, and I cannot believe that you have lost all of your humanity. What a terrible, terrible loss that would be.”

Revealing a hint of exasperation in his simulated voice, Vidad said, “And what do you expect of us, Serena Butler? We are aware of your passionate convictions, but we are Cogitors, neutral thinkers. Therefore, Omnius leaves us alone. Long ago, some of the Twenty Titans used our expertise, as did some League humans. We maintain a quintessentially fair and balanced position.”

“Your position is quintessentially
flawed
,” Serena retorted. “You may believe yourselves neutral, but in no way are you independent. Without your human secondaries you would perish. It is only because we humans value your minds that these secondaries donate their time and faithful service— their very lives— so that you may enjoy your ‘neutrality’ and contemplation. At no time do thinking machines or cymeks assist you. Humans need your help. You have an opportunity that is not available to my jihadi soldiers. Your supposed neutrality gives you access to Omnius and the thinking machines. As Cogitors, you could speak to them, observe them. Even tell us how to overthrow them.”

“Cogitors do not act as spies,” Vidad said.

Serena lifted her chin. “Perhaps not. Yet you owe your continued existence to humans. I am a short-lived human, Vidad, while you have two thousand years of experience on which to draw. If you do not approve of my suggestion, I ask that you use your superior intellect to find another way to assist us.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I do not believe for a moment that this challenge is beyond your capabilities.”

“Serena Butler, you have given us much to ponder,” Vidad said. The light glowed brighter inside his preservation canister, and inside those of his companions too, as if all the disembodied brains were thinking furiously. “We shall consider your request and take whatever action we deem appropriate.”

Serena waited, hoping he would say more, but the Cogitor held his silence. “Do not ponder overly long, Vidad. Human beings die every day from the cruelties of thinking machines. If you see a way to end this nightmare, you must act as soon as possible.”

“We will act when the time is right. We do not surrender our neutrality easily, but you make compelling arguments that echo the statements of our loyal secondaries.” Nearby, Keats bowed his head with reverence, in an apparent attempt to hide a smile.

Knowing the meeting was concluded, Serena departed through the frigid, winding corridors. The secondaries could barely contain their exuberance as they escorted her to the ship.

“We knew the Priestess of the Jihad could accomplish what we could not,” Keats exclaimed. “The Grand Patriarch is correct to honor you. You are the mother and savior of all humanity.”

Serena frowned, uncomfortable to be the object of such blatant admiration. “I am no more than a woman with a mission. That is all I have ever been.” Then she murmured, “That is all I ever need to be.”

A
fter the Titans consolidated the dim, cloudy world of Bela Tegeuse as the cornerstone of their new cymek empire, they spent years reshaping the cities and the population into the format they desired. The trio of remaining Titans, along with Beowulf and several of the highest-ranked neos used the planet as a base from which they launched forays against Omnius update ships, finding weaknesses in other Synchronized Worlds, preparing for their ultimate expansion. Meanwhile, Bela Tegeuse remained secure and well defended against the evermind and against the
hrethgir
.

The arrival of another cymek ship surprised them. It dropped beneath the clouds and landed near their headquarters, an oval, gray structure with large doors and few windows.

Agamemnon and Juno, wearing stupendous walker forms designed to impress the already cowed populace, marched out to face the intruder, accompanied by a swarm of newly made Tegeusan neos.

The powerful machine walkers converged around the unidentified ship only moments after it set down on the flat, newly paved spaceport field. The vessel’s hull cracked open and an unusual, exotic machine form strutted forth. The cymek body glittered with diamond plates, and angular wings spread out like the plumage of a lacy condor. A galaxy of optic threads glittered atop a tall segmented neck.

As soon as Agamemnon observed the preening, extravagant shell that this cymek had fashioned for itself, he knew that Xerxes— for all his foolish flaws— had been correct in his suspicions. He recognized Hecate by the characteristic electrical discharges inside her brain canister.

He raised himself to tower over the flashy dragon form. “By the gods, look what crawled out of the dustbin of history. It has been a millennium since you dared show yourself, Hecate.”

Juno added snidely, “If only it could have been a bit longer.”

Hecate made a discordant laugh, a rasping noise from her dragon throat. “Old friends, is it the best use of your skill and longevity to nurse a grudge for ten centuries? I’ve changed, and I promise not to disappoint you.”

“You were nothing to start with, Hecate. How could we possibly be disappointed?” Juno sidled closer to her lover. “You stepped off the tread-mill of history long ago, and you cannot conceive of how much has changed since the Time of Titans.”

“Oh, but I did manage to avoid many ugly and unpleasant events,” Hecate said. “And I never had to serve in the thrall of Omnius. Can any of you say the same? Maybe the rest of you should have gone with me.”

Some of the Bela Tegeusan people milled around at a relatively safe distance, amazed by this confrontation of godlike machines, unable to understand the mental and historical grappling that was so far beyond their experience.

“We have secured our freedom now,” Agamemnon pointed out.

“That was thanks to my assistance. You would not be on Bela Tegeuse if I had not delivered my atomic ‘gift’ to the computer evermind, and if the human League had not been so slow and inept in responding to this opportunity.” She didn’t mention the deadly asteroid that she kept hidden away and her other, lesser known interventions over the years. Since her reemergence she had been keeping her hand in the war, secretly helping Iblis Ginjo in many small ways, but there was more to accomplish. To do this, she needed to let the other Titans know some of what she had done. She had a long-range vision, and the proposal she was about to make might change everything and finally resolve the struggle against Omnius.