Dune: The Battle of Corrin

by Brian Herbert; Kevin J. Anderson

  As soon as a moment of distraction presented itself, Thurr slipped away from the inept guards and dashed into the streets of Zimia. They shouted and pursued him, but he avoided them easily. Though the men called in reinforcements and persisted in their efforts for several hours, the former Jipol commandant quickly found a bolthole and concentrated on developing a more effective approach.

  It was merely a matter of time and careful planning, and then Thurr would get everything he deserved.

  I have imagined what it would be like to be Omnius. What far-reaching decisions might I make in his position?

  — Erasmus Dialogues

  The independent robot stood in one of the expanded art exhibit rooms of the Central Spire, awaiting an audience. Though the evermind could speak with him anywhere, Omnius seemed particularly intent on making sure Erasmus saw his new gallery. All the bizarre electronic paintings, sculptures, and geometrical jewel-forms were horrendously derivative and uninspired. Omnius seemed to think he grew more and more talented through sheer quantity of production.

  It had only grown worse once the three near-identical but separate incarnations of the evermind had begun to “collaborate.”

  Working in concert, the three Omniuses had created jarring juxtapositions of bright colors and random jagged shapes, stylized renditions of mechanical contrivances accompanied by dissonant, synthesized music. No aesthetic harmony whatsoever.

  Leaving the exhibits as swiftly as he could, the platinum robot picked up a black guidance cube from a wall-mounted tray. The cube lit up, verified his identity, and then showed the robot which direction to go. No pathway was ever the same through the Central Spire, since the flowmetal building was constantly being changed as Omnius vented his creative urges.

  Following red arrows on the surface of the cube, Erasmus entered a large chamber and rode a conveyor floor that spiraled up seventy stories. The independent robot grew weary of the endless and unnecessary variations.

  As Erasmus entered the top level of the Spire, he found the three Omnius incarnations in the midst of an unemotional but involved and focused discussion. In human psychology the situation might have been described as a multiple-personality disorder. The primary Omnius attempted to remain dominant, while the copies brought to Corrin by Yorek Thurr and Seurat had developed different perspectives. The trio of everminds attempted to cooperate as one electronic unit, but by now their differences had become too severe. Though they could easily have linked and merged, the three remained separated, speaking to each other only through black speaker holes positioned around the flowmetal chamber.

  “I am here at the appointed time,” Erasmus said, attempting to call attention to his arrival. “Omnius requested my presence.” One of you did.

  The out-of-phase everminds paid no attention to their visitor, not even when Erasmus repeated himself. Previously, for his own amusement, he had created nicknames for the other two everminds, just as he called Gilbertus “Mentat,” or as Omnius Prime used the derisive “Martyr” to refer to the independent robot after his supposed resurrection from total erasure. In his mind, Erasmus had dubbed Seurat’s gelsphere update “SeurOm,” and the one Thurr had delivered from Wallach IX, “ThurrOm.” Just listening to them, the independent robot could distinguish among the three by subtleties of tone and attitude, and by the information they used to support their arguments.

  The Omniuses were concerned about being trapped on Corrin, but could not agree on what to do about it. The abortive offensive maneuver ThurrOm had launched, after being tricked by Yorek Thurr, had led to the destruction of over four hundred major robot ships, while doing little damage to the hrethgir watchdogs. All in all, though Thurr himself had escaped, the flurry had accomplished nothing for Omnius, and had only made the human sentries more vigilant.

  As he listened to their flat but rapid-fire debate, Erasmus saw that some of their postulates were illogical and demonstrated a thorough lack of understanding of human responses and priorities. Apparently even Omnius Prime did not consult with the inner reservoir of knowledge and insight that would have been accessible in the isolated copy of Erasmus’s persona. The three copies had grown more extreme in their conclusions and less flexible. The robot would have liked to correct them, but these new diversified everminds would not listen to him.

  The trio agreed on some things. They knew it was unwise to keep the only copies of the evermind on Corrin. Omnius Prime advocated an electronic escape, transmitting a normalized copy of the vast computer mind far out into space, a stream of data in search of an appropriate target. ThurrOm pointed out that there were no known receivers for such a data package, and with distance the signal would only grow more diffuse and dwindle to oblivion. A pointless expenditure of energy and effort.

  The Seurat Omnius insisted on a more tangible option. SeurOm wanted to colonize twenty or more Unallied Planets. As soon as the thinking machines anchored their new outpost, the resurrected Omniuses could proceed to additional planets, thereby regenerating the Synchronized empire. He blithely presumed they could find a way to escape the deadly scrambler net, but did not explain how that might be accomplished.

  As if his violent appetite had been whetted by his first independent offensive, ThurrOm advocated sending their entire machine fleet against the guardian human ships. He wanted to accept overwhelming losses and hope that some part of the machine battle fleet survived. If they failed, however, then the fanatical hrethgir could bombard all of Corrin with their pulse-atomic warheads and exterminate the last vestiges of the computer evermind. ThurrOm admitted that this could be a problem.

  All of the plans had a vanishingly small chance of success. It intrigued Erasmus to see how much trouble the primary Omnius was having in his bizarre argument with the subsidiary incarnations.

  Month after month, the robotic ships continued their regular attacks by throwing themselves against the scrambler net and the League barricades— consequently suffering predictable waves of destruction. For more than nineteen years, Omnius had strip-mined Corrin, ripping metals and raw materials from the crust, then recycling and reprocessing. By now, the planet was nearly wrung dry. Some of the rare elements and molecules necessary for creating sophisticated gelcircuitry minds had become difficult to obtain. The production of replacement warships had slowed. Erasmus projected that their stronghold would soon become vulnerable simply due to the constant attrition of their forces.

  He had to find a solution— for himself and Gilbertus, at the very least— before that occurred.

  For years now, Erasmus had considered many possible methods of escape. Far from Corrin, he and Gilbertus could devote themselves to mental pursuits without the interference and distractions of the increasingly eccentric evermind.

  The independent robot had left his ward back at the villa, where Gilbertus continued to explore a difficult intellectual puzzle with the Serena Butler clone at his side. The muscular and well-trained human could follow serpentine pathways in his brain, extrapolating fiftieth-order variables and consequences. For years now, he had been able to memorize every detail of his daily experiences, keeping everything organized and retrievable in his brain.

  Attempting to get the attention of the everminds while they steadfastly ignored him, Erasmus began to hammer his metal fist against the wall, reenacting behavior he had witnessed from Gilbertus when he’d been an unruly young boy. “I am here. What is it you demanded to discuss with me?”

  The robot considered hurling his directional cube at the floor, but instead held it tighter in his flowmetal palm. It was only simulated anger, but this seemed like a good opportunity to explore the humanlike emotions he had learned.

  The three harmonized voices commanded in unison, “Stop being impatient, Erasmus. You are acting like a hrethgir.”

  The robot thought of several excellent retorts but decided against voicing them. Instead, he placed the inactive directional cube on the floor. The flowmetal surface of the deck swallowed the cube, then smoothed over again like a p
uddle of water around a dropped stone.

  The Omniuses resumed their debate.

  Suddenly Rekur Van entered the room, pushed by an armed robot guard, who also held a directional cube. “It is time for my appointment!” the limbless man said, raising his voice to be heard over the escalating argument.

  “I have precedence, Stump,” Erasmus said with no rancor, amplifying his words to an appropriate relative level.

  The voices of the three everminds still sounded unemotional in the background, but the synthesized signals among them grew increasingly louder, reverberating around the chamber with such force that the floor shook and rattled. The three Omniuses accused each other of inefficiency and fallibility, casting blame back and forth. The debate continued faster and faster as Erasmus and Rekur Van eavesdropped, with growing curiosity and alarm. Finally it became clear that Omnius Prime had convinced himself that he was the one true God of the Universe; according to his analyses and the projections Erasmus had performed for him, he decided that he fit the definition. He held ultimate knowledge and ultimate power.

  “I declare the two of you false gods,” Omnius Prime boomed suddenly.

  “I am not a false god,” SeurOm said.

  “Nor am I,” ThurrOm insisted.

  Such a strange trinity. It seemed ironic that Omnius, who had so roundly criticized the emotionally charged religions of human beings, now embraced a religious belief system of his own, with a thinking machine at its pinnacle.

  Without warning, the trio of everminds reached a critical flashpoint. The room filled with a storm of multicolored electronic flashes, firing from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. Erasmus managed to scramble smoothly out of the way, retreating onto the entry ramp, from which he watched as the chamber lit up.

  A bright yellow blast excoriated Rekur Van’s robot guard, and the limbless Tlulaxa screamed as sharp pieces of metal tore into his flesh. His life-support cart tipped over and fell across his smoking companion robot.

  With great disappointment, Erasmus recalled that Rekur Van had been working on the shape-shifting biological machine project. He’d had so much potential.

  The chamber grew suddenly silent. Presently, ominously, one of the everminds spoke. “Now there are two of us to rule.”

  “As it should be,” said the other. “Neither one of us is a false god.”

  So, Omnius Prime had been obliterated in the electronic battle. The primary evermind that Erasmus had known for so many years on Corrin existed no more. The walls began to ripple and shudder, and he worried that the entire Central Spire might collapse or change shape, with him inside it.

  To his surprise, Rekur Van moaned and began to squirm helplessly. Hurrying to his aid— strictly to preserve a valuable resource— Erasmus scooped the Tlulaxa and his cart into his metal arms and exited the writhing Spire. No sooner had they reached the safety of the plaza than the structure dramatically changed shape behind them, as the new evermind rulers exerted their combined will. The tower grew taller and spinier.

  “This is quite unexpected, and interesting,” Erasmus said. “The everminds appear to have gone insane.”

  The helpless Tlulaxa man turned his burned face to look at the bizarre convulsions of Omnius’s primary structure. “We might be better off taking our chances with the hrethgir.”

  The flesh may not be excused from the laws of matter, but the mind is not so fettered. Thought transcends the physics of the brain.

  — “Origins of the Spacing Guild” (a League publication)

  Though he had decided not to smash into his mother’s spice-immersion enclosure, Adrien Venport paced the floor. His brothers and sisters, scattered across the League on VenKee business assignments, could not help him. He doubted they could even understand his quandary.

  From within the misty chamber, Norma could sense her son’s indecision and concern. His worries were diverting him from vital VenKee business matters. He knew full well that if his odd and esoteric mother could truly and safely guide the spacefolders, VenKee would effectively control all future commerce between star systems. But she depended on him to keep the trading company strong, because she required its infrastructure for her next grand step.

  She would have to quell his unreasonable fears. Finished with her main work, Norma knew it was time to change. Adrien needed enough answers to reassure— and even exhilarate him.

  Forcing her expanding mind back to the real world, concentrating on her body and its immediate environs, Norma summoned him. With slow, painstaking effort, mouthing her words with uncooperative lips, scrawling letters in the spice stains on the plaz walls, she convinced Adrien that she wanted him to join her inside the chamber— provided that he wore a clearplaz breather and eye protection.

  Her son did not question her. He ran out of the laboratory building shouting orders. In less than half an hour he returned, fully clothed in an environment suit. Apparently, he didn’t even want to risk exposing his skin to concentrated spice gas. Norma realized that was probably wise.

  With a mental command, using Sorceress powers she rarely practiced, Norma allowed part of her enclosure to open, creating an inward vortex that made the spice gas swirl and kept most of it inside. Though clearly intimidated, Adrien raised his head and stepped inside. The door sealed quickly behind him, and she took deep gulps of spice gas, watching him as he walked through the murk.

  “Oh, the universe I have seen, Adrien!” she exclaimed. “And there is so much more to explore!”

  He was overjoyed just to be close to her again. “We should install a speaker system, Mother. It has been impossible— so many questions, and we couldn’t get through to you.” He knelt by her half-dissolved cushion on the tank’s floor.

  “A speaker system is acceptable,” she said. “But as long as you and I have an understanding, Adrien— as long as we have trust and confidence in each other— you can enter this chamber whenever I tell you it is safe.”

  With a perplexed expression, he asked, “When would it not be safe to enter your tank?”

  “When I am using my mind, my prescience, to calculate a safe course through folded space. Did you forget the purpose of this project?”

  Her voice sounded eerie to her own ears as she spoke at length, explaining how melange saturation had enhanced her ability to envision future events, to avoid disastrous paths. “I have worked out all of the final details in my mind.”

  Through his clearplaz mask she saw that his patrician features were still tight with concern. “I understand, Mother, but I have to be certain you are safe. Let the medical personnel examine you to make sure you’re healthy. You look emaciated.”

  “I am better than I have ever been,” she said, with a distant smile on her wide, bony face. “And healthy.” From all appearances, her body had degenerated into a form that hardly seemed capable of supporting the freakishly large head. Her skin rippled and her limbs had lost definition and become cordlike. “I’ve been altering into something… and toward something.”

  She took his much larger hands in her own, gripped them tightly, lovingly. With a penetrating gaze from her spice-blue eyes, Norma said, “Load my test chamber into one of the spacefolder ships, so that I can demonstrate my new navigation abilities. I will be able to pilot it.”

  “Are you sure it’s safe?”

  “Adrien, life is inherently perilous, as fragile as a flower bud in a storm. But, like the bud, it contains incredible beauty, a reflection of God’s intent for the universe. Is folding space safe compared to what? By odds, it is probably safer than a woman undergoing childbirth, but… yes, it is more dangerous than hiding and never venturing outside your front door.”

  “We really need this breakthrough,” he agreed, thinking like a businessman again. Then he crossed his arms stubbornly as the spice gas swirled around him. “But if it’s as safe as you say, then I insist on going with you, to demonstrate my faith in your abilities.”

  She nodded slowly, her enlarged head drifting up and down on the thin st
alk of her neck. “You are as tough a negotiator as your father. Very well, then. I will show you the universe.”

  * * *

  UNDER NORMA’S STRICT though distant supervision, and Adrien’s intense scrutiny of every detail, the preparations for her first space-folding journey were completed. This trip would be different for Norma, exciting and concrete, not just theoretical. A test, proof— liberation.

  Hundreds of Kolhar workers made certain that the medium-sized cargo vessel and the modifications to her spice-gas chamber met exacting specifications. Once the speaker system was installed inside the tank, Adrien could communicate directly with his mother, though he often had trouble focusing her attention or getting information from her in a useful form.

  When all components were ready for the prescient voyage, only two people climbed aboard: Norma sealed inside the chamber, and Adrien secured inside a lifepod on the same deck with her. He knew he was risking the future of VenKee Enterprises on this one flight, since none of his siblings could manage even a fraction of the necessary business activities.

  But Adrien trusted his mother. Through the plaz of their respective enclosures, they could see each other, and talk through the direct comline. The Holtzman engines would fold space and transport them from Kolhar to a different place entirely. Norma would choose the proper course.

  Before embarking, she increased the gas mixture in her enclosure to its maximum concentration and went into a trance that opened up the universe like the unfolding petals of a magnificent rose. Each time she peered into space it was more beautiful than the time before. And on this occasion Norma would make the leap, guiding the ship along a prescient pathway that her mind had already foreseen.

  Norma focused on the future, saw the swirling colors of the cosmos and her infinitesimally small ship. It was a cosmic conundrum, but one she understood fully. Space would wrap itself around the vessel in a loving embrace, like an attentive mother cradling her child. In her core, she felt a powerful soundless humming, and without actually turning back to look, she saw Adrien vibrating with life inside his protective lifepod.