The Machine Crusade

by Brian Herbert

  Returning from their assignments and depredations, stamping out flickers of rebellion that continued to flare into bonfires on random Synchronized Worlds, he and his fellow Titans held a meeting in the wilderness of deep space.

  Agamemnon had hoped for a secret gathering, since he had rarely been able to orchestrate his plans under the constant scrutiny of Omnius's watcheyes, whether they were fixed or mobile units. But this time he, Juno, Dante, and Xerxes were joined by the relative newcomer Beowulf, and Beowulf had not been able to shake his surveillance. They would have to be especially careful.

  Agamemnon had always been slow to trust anyone, even another cymek who had endured for centuries. The Titans must always be cautious. Still, the general was intrigued by Beowulf's audacity.

  Their ships linked up in deep space, and their hatches joined to form a cluster of artificial craft like a geometrical space station in an empty void far from any solar system. Stars sparkled like jewels all around them in the vastness of the cosmos. The middle of nowhere.

  Installing his preservation canister into a small, resilient walker form, Agamemnon scuttled out of his ship and through the hatchway connected to Juno's vessel. The two of them strode side by side on limber segmented legs into the central vessel. Dante entered from the opposite side.

  Standing beside Beowulf's walker-form, Xerxes was already there, on leave from his orgy of mayhem on Ix. Xerxes seemed agitated or perhaps eager, but Agamemnon was accustomed to the weak-willed Titan overreacting under most circumstances. The sooner Xerxes returned to Ix, the happier Agamemnon would be.

  Overhead, lenses gleamed on hovering mobile watcheyes, recording every moment. Agamemnon chafed under the constant surveillance, as he had for the past eleven centuries.

  "Hail to Lord Omnius," he said, sounding bored at the formal beginning of their meeting. His words were spoken with no particular enthusiasm. The computer evermind did not know how to interpret inflections of voice.

  "On the contrary," Beowulf said boldly, "curses upon Omnius! May the evermind wither and the Synchronized Worlds fall into ruin until cymeks rule again."

  Astonished, Juno reared back in her crablike body, though she harbored the same thoughts herself. The watcheyes glimmered down at them, and Agamemnon wondered what punishment Omnius would devise for the cymeks once the recordings were analyzed. The cymeks could not simply destroy the watcheyes before they reported to the evermind, or that would tip their hand and set back their plans, which were already centuries in the making.

  Thanks to Barbarossa's ancient programming restrictions, the evermind could not kill any of the original Twenty Titans. However, as a mere neo-cymek, brash young Beowulf had no such protection. Despite his vulnerability, he had just called down a death sentence upon himself.

  Xerxes could not contain his glee. "You have done it then, Beowulf? You've achieved success after all this time?"

  "The reprogramming was straightforward enough. The real trick was to do it in such a way that Omnius would never suspect." With a segmented limb, he gestured toward the floating spherical lenses. "These watcheyes are diligently recording a completely artificial version of our meeting, an innocuous discussion of the human rebels. Omnius will be satisfied — and we can speak those thoughts that must be aired."

  "I… do not understand," Dante said.

  "I suspect we have been tricked, my love," Juno said to Agamemnon.

  "Wait and listen," he answered, remaining motionless. His optic threads glimmered in the direction of Beowulf.

  "I put him up to this, Agamemnon," Xerxes said with pride. "Beowulf hates Omnius as much as we do, and he's been under the evermind's control for nearly as long as we have. I believe his skill can bring much to our plans. Now, at last, we have a chance."

  Agamemnon could barely contain his outrage. "You have plotted against Omnius, and now you attempt to implicate us? Xerxes, you are more of a fool than even I suspected. Do you mean to destroy us all?"

  "No, no, Agamemnon. Beowulf is a programming genius, just like Barbarossa was. He's found a way to create an instructional loop that places false recordings into the watcheyes. Now we can meet whenever we wish, and Omnius will never know the difference."

  Beowulf twitched his mechanical legs and took two steps forward. "General Agamemnon, I trained under your friend Barbarossa. He taught me how to manipulate the thinking machines, and I have continued to study secretly for centuries. I had hoped the Titans were chafing under the evermind's rule, as I have been… but I was not certain until Xerxes approached me."

  "Xerxes, you have placed us all at terrible risk," Agamemnon growled.

  But Dante, ever logical, ever methodical, pointed out the obvious. "The four of us are too few to accomplish what must be done. If more cymeks join our ranks, we have a better chance against Omnius." :

  "And a greater chance that one of them will betray us."

  Even Juno agreed. "We need fresh blood, my love. Unless we recruit new conspirators, we will spend another millennium talking and complaining… those of us who survive. With Beowulf's help, we can at last move forward. By planning openly and frequently, we will achieve more in a few months than we have been able to accomplish in decades."

  Still anxious, Xerxes said, "If we take no risks, we are no better than the apathetic humans who wallowed in the excesses of the Old Empire."

  Beowulf waited for judgment to be passed on his inclusion in the conspiracy. Agamemnon admitted to himself that, of all the neo-cymeks, Beowulf would have been his first choice.

  Despite his annoyance with the unilateral behavior of Xerxes, the general could not convince himself to refuse the offer. Finally he said, "Very well. This gives us the breathing room we need, the chance to move our plans forward." He swiveled his head turret, scanning Juno, Dante, Xerxes, and finally the expectant Beowulf. "Working together, we shall bring about the fall of Omnius. At last, the waiting is over."

  There is a certain momentum to victory… and to defeat.

  —Iblis Ginjo, Options for Total Liberation

  With the grand Patriarch due to arrive on Poritrin at any moment, Lord Bludd had staged yet another lavish festival, so that the population could keep celebrating their victory over the thinking machines. Stands were erected around the edges of the riverside amphitheater, colorful banners were hung, and feasts were prepared, all to welcome Iblis Ginjo.

  Amid such chaos, Aurelius Venport decided he would be able to sneak the outdated cargo ship unnoticed to the new laboratory.

  Tuk Keedair had gone to Rossak to fetch the vessel from its spacedock and had arrived back in the Poritrin system at just the right moment, as he intended. With the Grand Patriarch's pageant preoccupying everyone, Venport was sure they could bring the big vessel down to Norma Cenva's new laboratory complex without drawing any undue attention. He wanted to keep a low profile on this project.

  He had no real interest in noisy revelry tonight anyway. The profits from Holtzman's work — rightfully, Norma's work — had flooded Poritrin with more wealth than the most extravagant person could squander in a dozen lifetimes. Venport was confident that Norma's new space-folding project would make more money than anyone could possibly imagine.

  Though the big hangar of the new research facility was not yet complete, Norma lived at the distant work site. Her first priority had been to convert the office space inside the old mining operations headquarters so that she could continue to study and modify her calculations. While construction supervisors roamed the fenced-in area and gave orders to labor crews for the necessary renovations, Norma had immediately dived back into her scientific designs.

  Thinking of her utter devotion, Venport smiled wistfully. Unlike most people, who drifted through life seeking success or just a comfortable existence, dear Norma had no doubts about her mission. Her concentration was unerring and her focus sharp.

  Without disturbing the genius, Venport made it his job to take care of all other details, shuttling back and forth to Starda to arrange for supplie
s and equipment, furniture, and temporary work crews. To add another layer of security for the project, Venport had decided that the slaves building the hangar and restoring the decommissioned mining facilities would not remain there long enough to see what Norma actually intended to do.

  For the time being, Lord Bludd was smugly delighted, thinking he had negotiated an easy financial victory over Venport. Sensing this shortsighted pride, Venport pressed his advantage by placing a direct request with Bludd to have temporary use of some dedicated slaves, and agreeing to pay a premium for well-trained and docile workers. No doubt the Poritrin nobleman had charged him more than the captive Buddislamics were worth, but Venport didn't have time to dicker and retrain an entire labor force. He was due to depart for Arrakis soon, to try his hand at quashing the band of wily outlaws that preyed upon Naib Dhartha's spice-harvesting operations.

  For the time being, his business partner Tuk Keedair would remain on Poritrin with Norma. A strict taskmaster, he would make certain the slaves behaved for her, so Norma could accomplish her goals on time. As usual, she had reservations about using slave crews, but under the circumstances Venport had no other choice. Buddislamics were the only available work force on Poritrin.

  In late afternoon Venport returned to the isolated worksite, docking his shuttleboat in the narrow canyon when the water became too shallow to navigate. Norma's new laboratory and hangar filled an immense chamber that had once been behind a waterfall, but that cascade of water, like the subsidiary river that fed it, was long gone, having been diverted centuries ago by Lord Frigo Bludd's resource reclamation projects for Starda's agricultural needs. The roof of the grotto was open to the sky, though covered by a large warehouse hangar under construction on top of the plateau.

  A smooth passenger lift had been installed on the cliffside, and Venport rode it to the top of the canyon. Surrounded by blockish support buildings, the converted-warehouse hangar gleamed in the late afternoon light. Its cantilevered roof had been rolled out of the way to the sides, so that the large building was ready to receive the expected prototype vessel.

  Venport nodded with satisfaction at the progress the workers had made; he hoped he could verify that the facilities were ready for operation before he left for Arrakis. Striding through the gate past three local guards he had hired, he found the work supervisor and asked for a progress report. Around the warehouse and outbuildings, slaves were taking a brief late-day break to eat, rest, and pray. Afterward, they would be back on the project until late night.

  Norma emerged from her enclosed calculation offices and blinked in the waning light, surprised that a whole day had passed. Venport came forward, grinning; out of habit, he gave her a warm embrace. Her hair looked shaggy and uncared for, but the mere fact that she didn't put on airs or pretend to be beautiful made her seem more attractive to him.

  "Is my ship coming in this afternoon, Aurelius? Is it the right day, or did I lose one on my calendar?"

  "It arrives in less than an hour, Norma." He gestured toward the open rooftop. "The hangar seems to be ready."

  Her face grew eager. "Then I can commence the actual test phase of my project?"

  He nodded, letting his hand linger on her diminutive shoulder. His heart warmed when she smiled at him. "Lord Bludd has promised me he'll reassign a qualified team of slaves from the fabricators and constructors of the recent spaceship fleet. They have experience in this sort of work, so I hope they'll require little training."

  "OK, because I won't have the time or the attention to spend all day directing them. They will have to work independently—"

  "Tuk Keedair will stay here to take care of all that," Venport assured her. "He's also bringing in a large force of mercenary security guards whose loyalty is to VenKee Enterprises, not to Poritrin. They'll keep watch over the facilities and make certain the slaves don't try to commit any sabotage." He glanced back downriver. "They'll also keep Lord Bludd and Tio Holtzman from snooping around."

  "I never worried about so much security before."

  "Holtzman did. He always had Dragoon guards in his laboratories."

  "For years, Savant Holtzman has paid little attention to me, Aurelius. Why should he bother me now?"

  "Because if he has even a fraction of the genius that's attributed to him, he can't remain duped forever, and he'll realize what a wonder he lost by letting you go."

  Embarrassed at the compliment, Norma glanced around the construction site, as if she didn't remember several of the buildings being there the last time she'd noticed the details. "But where will you be?"

  Venport sighed, realizing that she had not been paying attention. "I told you already, Norma. I'm off to Arrakis to take care of some problems in our spice operations. Keedair will have the easier and far more pleasant task of remaining here with you."

  Norma frowned. Though she was well into middle age, her expression reminded him of the little girl on Rossak he had adored so much. "I wish you could stay with me, Aurelius. I'd much rather have your friendly face around than… a Tlulaxa slaver."

  Venport laughed. "You don't have to like Keedair, Norma. Just let him do his work." He sighed. "And, trust me, I'd rather stay as well. But I have too much work to do — and I'm afraid my time here with you would be so enjoyable that I'd be completely distracted from accomplishing anything worthwhile."

  She giggled with girlish joy. Venport caught himself, wondering if he'd actually been flirting with her. After a moment's consideration, he decided that he had. After so many years of their close friendship, he asked himself why that should surprise him.

  The construction manager hurried out of the hangar, looking for Venport. "We just received a signal, Directeur. The vessel has received routine clearance and is on its way down through the atmosphere. Tuk Keedair is at the controls."

  Venport nodded, not surprised that his partner would choose to pilot the craft himself. The flesh peddler had spent years as a merchant, raiding Unallied Planets and capturing Buddislamic slaves. He knew how to handle a simple cargo hauler.

  "Look, Norma. There it is." He pointed to a bright light making its way through the faint colors of dusk.

  The image grew brighter, its hull hot from reentry, and Norma heard the sonic booms of its passage. It was a large ship, designed primarily for long-distance space travel and occasional surface landings, although most of the cargo loading was done using transport shuttles.

  As a spacecraft, the vessel was comparatively sluggish and inefficient. Now, as Keedair spoke across the narrow-band transmitter, he grumbled about the antiquated ship systems. Obviously, Venport had decommissioned the craft for good reason.

  Finally, Keedair brought the large vessel over the open hangar and, with expert maneuvering, lowered it into the empty warehouse. Venport watched, not sure if the beamy craft would even fit through the open rooftop. But the Tlulaxa merchant managed with several meters to spare.

  Norma watched the landing with awe, and Venport could imagine the wheels turning in her mind. She had seen blueprints and design studies of the ship, so she already understood the modifications she would have to make. But simply seeing the vessel with her own eyes seemed to ignite her imagination.

  "A template for all future interstellar flight," she said. "What I accomplish here will change everything."

  Venport drew optimism from her. Norma couldn't tear her gaze from the ship until it had landed inside the hangar and workers rushed forward to install docking anchors and stabilizers.

  Norma reached out and squeezed his much larger hand. "I have been looking forward to this for so many years, Aurelius. I can hardly believe what I'm seeing. I still have plenty of work to do, but can finally get started."

  Grand Patriarch Iblis Ginjo expected his arrival to cause a bit of a stir, and the capital city of Starda staged an appropriately extravagant reception. At any given moment, numerous planets were engaged in the battle against the thinking machines. According to his calendar, the stepped-up Ix campaign should now be in ful
l swing, but Iblis did not want to thrust himself into such overt personal danger. Thus, Poritrin was a good place for him to be, since the robot invaders had already fled.

  By fomenting the initial uprising on Earth, Iblis had proved he was no coward, but his vital position as head of the Jihad Council precluded him from taking great risks now. Though his presence on the battlefields would no doubt have boosted the morale of the desperate fighters, the Grand Patriarch didn't want to chance being seen anywhere but the site of a genuine victory. Such as here.

  Accompanied by his loyal but discreet Jipol lieutenant Yorek Thurr, Iblis disembarked from his ship at Starda Spaceport and strutted forward to meet a small official delegation. Noting that Lord Bludd was himself absent, Iblis muttered a displeased comment just as a youthful Poritrin aide hurried up to him.

  "Your timing is excellent, Grand Patriarch. The awards ceremony is only two hours from now, but there is time for our wardrobe engineers to prepare you for your appearance with Lord Bludd." The young aide wore a black-and-white jerkin and tuxcape, one of the trendy styles on noble worlds.

  When a hoverbarge delivered Iblis and his entourage to the amphitheater, he was given a seat on the expansive riverfront platform, but off to one side, just one of seventy politicians and noblemen. As many as four hundred thousand people crowded the grassy fields, gazing up at projection screens and listening through crisp speaker systems that floated on suspensors. Hastily erected shrines to Manion the Innocent stood prominently on blufftops above the river. A new statue had been unveiled, a large and somewhat absurd construct of a cherubic Buddha-like child seated atop a crushed robot.