Dune: The Machine Crusade (89 page)

The Seraphim tensed, prepared to give their lives to protect the Priestess. Serena allowed a flash of a smile, showing odd relief. Erasmus noticed it.

Suddenly the robot had an insight. Such executions in history did not intimidate religious fanatics. They merely created
martyrs
. Erasmus’s insight became an epiphany. Conclusions and consequences clicked into place.

Martyrdom was not a concept the thinking machines understood easily, but Erasmus had discovered it in his own historical and cultural researches. Somehow, by failing utterly, certain humans became even stronger. If Serena Butler succeeded in this ploy, it would undoubtedly incite even greater violence among the feral humans than the death of her child had. The Jihad would only grow worse.

The combat robots stepped forward, drew their weapons, held up sharp-edged arms and blades. They would cut their captives to pieces. Serena lifted her chin ever so slightly, as if welcoming the death-stroke.

“Stop!” Erasmus shouted. Dressed in his voluminous royal cape, the independent robot pushed forward, raising a metal arm to block the down-sweep of the sharp blade that would have killed Serena Butler. “This is exactly what she wants!”

The combat robots reeled with indecision. The Seraphim threw themselves upon the heavy machines, but Omnius boomed out, “Erasmus, explain yourself.”

“She intends to make herself a martyr. She wants you to kill her, so the humans will hate you all the more. This will never solve our crisis.”

“Erasmus, your conclusions are illogical and incomprehensible.”

“Yes, Omnius. But remember— we are dealing with humans.”

The combat robots raised their weapons and stepped away from Serena and the Seraphim. Serena screamed. “You can’t stop now!”

She had thrown herself into this confrontation, risking everything. She had gambled that she could make the thinking machines follow their predictable patterns. But Erasmus had ruined her plan— as he had already ruined so much.

She turned to look at her Chief Seraph, who said, “I am sorry, Priestess.” Hot tears streamed down Niriem’s face. She was already beginning to move, much faster than the robots could anticipate what she intended to do. “The Grand Patriarch gave me other orders.”

Serena’s eyes widened as the warrior woman threw herself forward. Niriem had been coiled like a snake, her muscles tense, and now she whirled. Serena understood instantly— even knowing her plan to incite the machines into murdering her and thus revealing their true evil, Iblis Ginjo would never have left her success to chance.

He left nothing to chance.

She drew in a quick breath as the side of Niriem’s foot crashed into her neck, snapping it instantly. As she spun with powerful momentum, the Chief Seraph’s opposite fist hammered her victim’s temple, crushing the skull like a thin eggshell.

Without a sound, not even a faint gasp of pain, Serena Butler fell dead to the floor. Her lips had only started to form a quiet smile of acceptance.

Omnius went silent in surprise and confusion. The illusion shimmered and faded, exposing the metal walls of the high Central Spire and the standing sentinel robots.

All five Seraphim, knowing theywere doomed, followed their final orders. With combined strength, they surged forward, howling, toward the enemy robots. They had no weapons other than their bodies, but Niriem and her four companions destroyed twenty-six sentinel and combat robots before the machines killed them all.

At the end of the carnage, Erasmus stood beside Gilbertus Albans, looking at the scene. Serena lay dead, appearing almost peaceful.
What does she know?
Even in death, she seemed convinced of her victory.

The robot’s young ward looked green. Though he’d never been trained in emotions and had been raised under the robot’s care, Gilbertus seemed to have an innate humanity. He stared at the fallen Priestess.

“I am deeply saddened, Father.” The young man seemed to be struggling with his thoughts. “But more than that I am
angry
. She was brave and admirable. This did not have to happen.”

Erasmus nodded his silvery head. “Exactly as I expected you to feel as a human being. Omnius will never understand why you say these things, but I do. When time permits, we shall explore your feelings in more detail.”

Finally, the remaining combat robots returned to their positions, and the evermind’s voice boomed from all walls. “But why did she do that, Erasmus? Explain it to me.”

The robot paced back and forth, sorting his thoughts. “I am concerned about this, Omnius. Very concerned.”

Despite the death and tragedy here, the independent robot suspected that it had all played out precisely as Serena Butler choreographed it. Erasmus feared the consequences. Inadvertently, they might have unleashed the most dangerous weapon of all.

D
isaster struck on their return to the shipyards of Kolhar.

Aurelius Venport sat in the passenger seat, deep in thought, while Zufa guided their conventional craft through an asteroid belt near Ginaz. Holtzman shields protected them from the peppering impact of small space debris, though the protective system frequently overheated from hours of constant use. He hoped they would not remain inside the field of space debris for much longer.

Still mystified by his own feelings, the merchant held the flashy Manion Cross in his hand, a gaudy but impressive ornament that symbolized so much. Somewhat drunk with the praise and rewards he had received from the Priestess of the Jihad, and the lucrative long-term business concessions, he had resigned himself to the loss of his space-folding merchant ships. For now.

But in the long run, his name would be emblazoned in the annals of history as a tremendous benefactor of the Jihad; that was not something money could buy. During his life’s work, Venport had never considered himself a selfless patriot; but the accolades and sincere gratitude made him feel as vertiginous with pleasure as if he had taken a strong dose of melange.

How odd.

He tried to assess his shifting fortunes and feelings as Zufa piloted their ship back to Kolhar. When he noticed her glancing at him, Venport tried to imagine what the statuesque woman must be thinking. Was she actually… proud of him, for a change?

Venport could parlay his new respectability into even greater profits for VenKee Enterprises, more merchant business. Certainly, he still had his traditional cargo haulers, which had already proved successful. Even before the end of hostilities he would have all the capital he needed to start construction on a new spacefolder merchant fleet, using the patents and designs the company still owned. He smiled to himself.

At that moment the waiting cymeks launched their ambush from within the asteroid field.

Beowulf, the oldest of the turncoat neo-cymeks, along with ten other fanatically devoted converts from the populace of Bela Tegeuse, had lain in wait among the space rubble. Their source in the League had said it would be the perfect ambush. Knowing that the great Sorceress and the powerful merchant would have to pass the asteroid field on their return to Kolhar, Beowulf wanted to strike an important blow against their
hrethgir
enemies, and most especially against the Sorceresses of Rossak.

No cymek had ever forgotten the mayhem and damage the witches had inflicted on their numbers. Thanks to a Sorceress trained by Zufa Cenva herself, Beowulf’s mentor and friend Barbarossa had been annihilated on Giedi Prime, the first victim of their insidious telepathic mind-storms. Now he was delighted to have an opportunity for revenge….

With uncharacteristic prescience brought about by her abilities, Zufa Cenva sensed the danger moments before she saw the sparkling silver forms emerge like hornets from the drifting rocks. Shouting to Venport, she took evasive action, spinning their small ship and changing course so sharply that both of them were nearly thrown out of their seats. Venport grabbed the console to stabilize himself.

Surprised at her swift reaction, the cymek ambushers opened fire with a spray of wild projectiles that flew off into open space. Three explosive rounds struck the drifting debris, pulverizing the ice and rock into fine gravel. Two other projectiles slammed into the ship’s weakening Holtzman shields, dissipating the missiles’ kinetic energy.

Zufa’s face was hard, her icy eyes afire as she cruised tightly around a large tumbling asteroid. After four more direct hits, the shields hummed, overheated… and finally failed. She increased speed, risking an imminent crash, but she needed to put distance between her ship and the attackers.

“We have little chance of surviving this, Aurelius,” Zufa said.

He looked at her and swallowed hard. His face turned almost as milky pale as her natural coloring. “Trust me, I appreciate your honesty, but I’d rather hold on to a little hope.”

“Any suggestions?”

Venport sagged in the seat. “You never looked to me for direction before, Zufa.”

Without a plan, Zufa fired a spread from their ship’s defensive artillery. The volley of shells struck a glancing blow off one of the cymek ships, causing sufficient damage to send the enemy craft reeling out of control. The neo-cymek fired stabilizing thrusters to regain his orientation, but before he could steady himself, his ship slammed into a jagged chunk of rock and exploded.

Ten more cymek marauders remained, closing in on Venport’s ship.

Beowulf transmitted in an artificially loud, booming voice, “Prepare to be boarded and dissected— or face destruction.”

Venport said, “Let’s negotiate a third option… as soon as I think of one.”

Beowulf responded, “There is no other option. We intend to acquire the details of your space-folding technology for General Agamemnon.”

Shocked, Venport looked at Zufa. “How could they possibly know? And how did they know to intercept us here?” Then he gave a contemptuous snort to cover his fear. “They’re deluded if they believe either of us actually understands Norma’s calculation s… or even that we’ll permit ourselves to be taken alive.”

Ignoring him, the Sorceress coldly responded over the comsystem. “You would be better off simply destroying us. You are wasting your time if you believe we will divulge any such information.”

Beowulf responded, “We would be happy to distill it directly from your brain cells.”

Just what I’m worried about
, Venport thought. With a show of bravado, wondering if he’d have the nerve to follow through, he called up routines in the ship’s control panel. While Zufa flew wildly, he tried to concentrate, step by step, on setting up the vessel’s emergency self-destruct sequence.

The cymek ships dodged the asteroid debris and continued firing, attempting to damage the engines. Zufa took a risky course, flying close to hazardous obstacles. Three cymek projectiles struck home, damaging the thrusters and navigation stabilizers, sending the vessel out of control. The Sorceress fought with the remaining systems, doing her utmost to keep from careening into a drifting mountain.

The neo-cymeks closed in like bloodthirsty wolves from the black pit of space. Venport could almost imagine dripping mechanical fangs as they pressed in for the kill. He finished the preparation sequence; the self-destruct was ready.

Zufa’s forehead furrowed with intense thought as she aimed carefully and shot her last five explosive projectiles. She seemed to be using her own telekinetic abilities to nudge them in the right direction. Four of the shots struck the nearest cymek ship, destroying it.

“We’re making progress,” Venport said. “That’s two of them.”

“But too many remain.” She looked at him grimly. “And we have no more ammunition.”

“Surrender and prepare to be boarded,” Beowulf demanded.

In response, Venport activated the comsystem and shouted into it. “You should know that our pilot is a Sorceress of Rossak, and cymeks are certainly familiar with what they can do. If you come aboard, trust me: she will vaporize your brain.”

The cymek called his bluff. “And yours. And her own. We know all about the witch Zufa Cenva— and about your space-folding ships, Aurelius Venport. Her psychic blast may kill one or two of my neos, but in the end we will still have your vessel and its records. General Agamemnon will find them most useful.”

Venport flipped off the system, muttered. “The self-destruct looks like our only option.”

“They are just trying to intimidate us,” Zufa said. A cymek shot struck their bow, and sparks flew from her control panel. Zufa shut it down, glanced at the ruined components. “That was our whole comsystem— the transmitter and the receiver.”

“I didn’t want to hear more cymek threats anyway.”

Then, as if the gods were smiling on them, a large ellipsoidal rock deviated from its course in the scattered debris field and began to pick up speed, in defiance of celestial mechanics. The huge asteroid accelerated toward the clustered attackers, on an apparent collision course.

“What is… that?” Venport asked, leaning close to the front viewport.

Gripping the controls, trying to find a way to evade the object, Zufa saw the asteroid hurtle in amid the converging cymeks. As the silvery ships scattered, kinetic spheres discharged from the giant space rock, coming out of weapons ports disguised as craters. Dense stone globes shot out at near relativistic velocities. The kinetic spheres needed no explosives, only the incredible energy delivered by their speed and mass. The aim was true— and four more cymeks exploded.

Thrown into chaos, Beowulf and his fellow marauders spun about to face this unexpected new threat. The silver ships strafed the giant asteroid’s crust, but caused only cosmetic damage. A shotgun spray of more kinetic spheres flew like a deadly hailstorm from the crater ports.

Almost caught in the crossfire, Zufa struggled to maneuver her crippled ship away from the battle.

The mysterious asteroid’s weaponry complement seemed inexhaustible. Hundreds of kinetic spheres showered out, a relentless bombardment against the overconfident machine attackers. Metallic wreckage from the cymek ships littered the Ginaz asteroid belt Beowulf, in the last surviving cymek ship, headed straight up out of the asteroid plane, swerving to dodge the kinetic storm. A dozen more stone bombs rained out of the asteroid’s crater launchers. One clipped and breached the hull of Beowulf’s ship; another crushed the cymek’s engines. Dark and out of control, the last silvery attacker careened off into space, drifting away.