Dune: The Machine Crusade (96 page)

“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.”

W
hen 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?”

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.

“What are you doing?”

High above the planet, the diplomatic ship arced inward and began to proceed toward the blazing heart of the star system. The sun of Thalim shone brightly, sweeping a swath of glare into the cockpit and casting deep shadows.

Xavier said, “I know what you did to the settlements on Chusuk, Rhisso, and Balut. Those were not really thinking machine attacks, were they?”

“You have no proof of that,” Iblis said, his voice dripping ice.

“Interesting response— but not one an innocent man would give.”

As automatic acceleration lurched the ship forward, Iblis staggered to the piloting console and shoved Xavier aside. None of the controls responded, and he cursed.

“I also know what you have planned for the innocent settlers of Caladan,” Xavier continued. “Fresh donors for the organ farms while you rally the rest of the League.”

Iblis’s square face darkened with stubborn self-justification. “Serena Butler would have understood.
She
saw how the people had lost their resolve. They are lazy, no longer focused on the important fight. By God, they were willing to accept the Cogitors’ cease-fire proposal! We must never let that happen again.”

“I agree,” Xavier said. “But not at the cost you have in mind.”

Loud pounding reverberated against the sealed cockpit door, the Jipol guards hammering to get inside. Iblis attempted to work a control panel on the wall, but the door remained sealed. He turned to glare at Xavier. “Let them in, damn you!”

Xavier simply sat back and looked at the brightening view out the front cockpit windows. Their ship roared toward the blazing furnace of the central star in the Thalim system.

He said, “Serena understood the need for sacrifice and motivation— but when the time came, she did it herself. She asked no one else to become victims for her. You are a selfish, power-hungry man, Iblis.”

“I don’t know what you—”

“Instead of performing dangerous deeds yourself, you selected unsuspecting victims. You made the people of Chusuk, Rhisso, and Balut pay for your ambition.”

“If you try to expose my so-called crimes, you will never be able to make your accusations stick.” Iblis grabbed Xavier by the shoulders. The Primero did not even struggle as the Grand Patriarch threw him out of the seat. “No one will listen, old man. My power base is too secure.”

“I know,” Xavier said, picking himself up from the deck. With odd formality, he brushed off his uniform. “That is why I can’t allow politicians to deal with this matter. You and your lackey Yorek Thurr would only manipulate evidence and worm your way out of any punishment. Too bad he isn’t here with us. Instead, I now act as a military officer for the good of the Jihad— as I always have. It is my decision to remove an enemy from the battlefield. At this moment, Iblis Ginjo,
you
are the greatest enemy to mankind.” He smiled.

The ship plunged forward, approaching the enormous sun of Thalim.

Heavy gravity reached out with seductive, unseen fingers, drawing the vessel closer, faster. Iblis continued his futile struggle with the controls, cursing and slamming his fist against panels. He drew his knife, threatening Xavier. “Turn us around.”

“I wiped all the navigation systems. Nothing in the universe can alter our course now.”

Iblis’s dark eyes flew wide with realization. “You can’t do this!”

“It was simple enough. Just look out at the sunlight. See how much brighter it’s getting, moment by moment.”

“No!” Iblis wailed.

The Jipol continued to hammer on the sealed cockpit door, but their tools and weapons were inadequate to breach the barrier. The ship hurtled toward the curtains of coronal fire streaming out of the star.

“Worst of all, Iblis, I know that you are responsible for convincing Serena to sacrifice herself. You cost that magnificent woman her life.”

“She made up her own mind! She couldn’t let the Cogitors succeed. She went to Corrin to give her life so that the Jihad could continue. It was the only possible solution. She was willing to pay that price.”

“Not the way you arranged it.” Xavier was beyond listening. “But I will ask her myself, soon.”

The ship bucked and jumped, buffeted by ionizing currents from the enraged star and vibrating from the increased speed, but its course did not deviate. The transport arrowed like a blunt dagger toward the bloated sphere of incandescent gas. Iblis’s face was streaked with sweat, from terror and the mounting heat.

Xavier thought back on his life, his family, everything he had done or failed to do. He did not care if legends remembered him as less than the man he was. Eventually, if Quinto Paolo succeeded in his mission, at least Vorian Atreides would understand. Xavier asked for nothing more.

This was beyond any personal concerns; he was doing this for more than revenge. Without Iblis and his manipulative charm, the Jipol and the Tlulaxa would not have the clout or the leadership to pull off their heinous schemes against human colony worlds. Xavier would save the population of Caladan… and all future victims of Iblis’s twisted, misguided fervor.

Iblis shouted in denial again and again. Useless words. The Jipol kept pounding against the doorway while the ship flew inexorably into the hot, expanding flares of the sun. The roiling photosphere filled the viewport now with light so bright it seemed about to melt the metal and glaz.