Dune: The Battle of Corrin

by Brian Herbert; Kevin J. Anderson

  “I was sure my extrapolation of human nature was correct!” Erasmus beamed. “After we fill our ships with innocent humans, we inform the League commander that we will execute the hostages if they intrude beyond a clearly defined boundary. It will be a bridge they dare not cross.”

  “A bridge of hrethgir,” Gilbertus muttered. “It will work with a little luck.”

  “Luck does not enter into our projections,” ThurrOm said.

  The two everminds discussed the merits of the brash strategy, flickering impulses back and forth in a dizzying blur. Finally, they reached their conclusion, and Erasmus felt thoroughly proud of himself.

  “Agreed. There must be no delay. The hrethgir fleet is already coordinating their assault.” Even as the everminds spoke, they had already transmitted orders to armies of combat meks, battleship controllers, and sentinel robots to begin the massive effort.

  Gilbertus looked deeply troubled, but the robot turned to his ward. “Perhaps this is the only way some of us can live, Gilbertus.”

  * * *

  ONLY MACHINES, WITH their unwavering efficiency and relentless diligence, could have accomplished such an impossible task.

  Cargo containers were filled with throngs of people herded out of the slave pens. One after another, cumbersome and barely spaceworthy vessels lumbered up through the atmosphere to their positions in low orbit. Most of the bristling machine fleet remained locked just inside the scrambler perimeter, while some of the vessels descended to take on large loads of unwilling passengers.

  Although the life-support systems on the cargo containers and laden battleships were minimally sufficient, there would not be enough food or supplies to last the millions of hostages for long. Erasmus wasn’t overly concerned with their welfare. The situation might change dramatically within a few days, if the human commanders reacted according to his estimation.

  In the calm and restful botanical gardens of his villa, Erasmus enjoyed the company of Gilbertus Albans, while the furious activity continued unabated. The man asked after Serena, who was nowhere to be found. The robot made his face into a reassuring smile. “You and I are best equipped to deal with this crisis, my Mentat. I require your full concentration.”

  Gilbertus blushed and responded with a weak grin. “You’re right. Sometimes she can be very distracting.”

  In the day since the League Vengeance Fleet had arrived, the human ships had consolidated their forces, moved into organized attack positions. They were obviously prepared to move. Erasmus hoped the “Bridge of Hrethgir” would be completed soon enough to stand as an effective deterrent.

  Around them, the gentle fountains made soft and soothing sounds. Flowers were in bloom, with hummingbirds flitting from blossom to blossom. Everything on Corrin seemed to be at peace, except for the looming war fleet in space. Erasmus very much enjoyed this garden.

  “Will you really kill them all, Father?” Gilbertus asked, his voice quiet. “If the Army of Humanity ignores your threat and passes the boundary, will you be the one who transmits the destruct command? Or will it be Omnius?”

  Though the outcome would be the same either way, the independent robot could see that the question mattered a great deal to Gilbertus. “Someone must do it, my Mentat. We are thinking machines, so the humans will know we are not bluffing. They don’t believe we are capable of falsehood. If we say we will do this, then we must be prepared to follow through.”

  The man’s face remained placid. “We did not ask for this untenable situation. I would rather… make them responsible. I don’t want you to kill so many hostages, Father. Put the trigger in the League commander’s hands, so that he is directly to blame for the slaughter, if he chooses to move ahead.”

  “How? Explain.”

  “We can turn the tables by making their Holtzman satellites into a line of death that works both ways. Key the destruct sequences in all the cargo containers to the sensors in their own scrambler net. Once the Army of Humanity passes beyond their own satellites, those sensors will transmit the destruct signal.” Gilbertus seemed to be pleading. “If they cause the death and destruction, knowing this is the price of their actions, it will give their own commander an additional reason to hesitate.”

  Though Erasmus struggled to understand the difference, he was pleased at the deeper insight that Gilbertus was showing him. “I would never doubt your intuition. Very well, I will let you program the trigger systems so that the League ships themselves initiate the massacre. It will not be a direct action on my part.”

  The man seemed strangely relieved. “Thank you, Father.”

  In warfare, there are always events that cannot be anticipated by military plans, surprises that become the turning points of history.

  — PRIMERO XAVIER HARKONNEN

  As he prepared to face the thinking machines for the last time, Vorian Atreides considered how often he had been in similarly desperate situations during his career. For over a hundred years, his triumphs had been legendary, but the hubris depicted in ancient Grogyptian tragedies reminded him that a single mistake could erase everything and leave his name on the dung heap of history.

  Thus, when he arrived with the Vengeance Fleet, Vor proceeded warily. Though he had brought what he hoped would be overwhelming firepower, nothing was guaranteed. With each defeat suffered at the hands of humanity, thinking machines learned more and developed new countermeasures to prevent the recurrence of specific failures. They added more and more robotic ships. The history of the Jihad— and of all previous warfare— was replete with examples of human ingenuity, of creative decisions made by military leaders to surprise and overcome opponents. However, although the machines had access to vast archives of such information, Vor doubted Omnius fully understood the process by which humans made such “seat of the pants” decisions.

  As Supreme Bashar, and the newly anointed Champion of Serena, Vor had developed a number of possible attack strategies and then described them en route to the captains of every vessel in his Vengeance Fleet.

  Since the cymeks had discovered the critical vulnerability of Holtzman shields to laser weaponry, some of Vor’s officers were concerned that machine spies might also have access to the knowledge. If true, Omnius could annihilate the fully shielded fleet with a single salvo of laser weaponry. The very idea was enough to frighten many of the battleship captains. Vor, though, couldn’t put much stock in the threat. The cymeks had been enemies of Corrin for a long time and were not likely to have shared their military intelligence. Also, since the evermind had been imprisoned for decades, Vor was convinced the machines would have attempted to use lasers the moment they learned of the League’s vulnerability.

  If he ordered the Army of Humanity ships into the fray without shields, a huge number would be destroyed outright. The Supreme Bashar considered it an unnecessary sacrifice of valuable ships and fighters. Instead, he and Abulurd decided to organize the final offensive in waves, each front line of vessels using shields while those in the rear guard would keep theirs inactive until it came time to face the enemy bombardment.

  It had been an incredibly long voyage. Omnius had no way of knowing that the powerful fleet was on the way, or that the machines’ end was at hand.

  Upon reaching the Corrin system, Vor met with the commanders stationed on the watchdog ships. Thanks to information delivered by spacefolder scouts, the guardian vessels had completed their final preparations and drills while waiting for the Vengeance Fleet to arrive using safer conventional spaceflight engines. Everything was ready.

  From the command bridge of the old LS Serena Victory, Vor watched the planet wallow in the bloody light of a swollen, giant sun. After destroying the Titans and gaining the endorsement of Rayna’s fanatical Cult of Serena, he had earned his chance at last. He doubted the League of Nobles would ever summon sufficient resolve again. Therefore, Omnius must be destroyed, regardless of the cost in lives. Heroes and martyrs would be made this day. The end of a long, dark era was at hand.

  Meticu
lous and reliable as always, his executive officer, Abulurd Harkonnen, oversaw the consolidation of all ships and commanders. He asked for a full inventory of weapons, fighters, and vessels for the final offensive. Every aspect had to be perfect and ready.

  Meanwhile, from his diplomatic ship on the far perimeter of the staging area for the battle, Viceroy Faykan Butler made inspirational speeches. Transmitting on an open comline, Rayna led the soldiers through prayers.

  Though anxious, the Army of Humanity had no need to rush. Omnius wasn’t going anywhere, but the machines clearly saw their doom.

  In the vicinity of the planet, within the deadly shell of the scrambler net, the captive machines went through a flurry of activity. Robotic scouts flew to and fro like maddened hornets, and battleships landed on the planet then lifted off again a few hours later. Massive numbers of ships, boxy scrap-metal containers, and oversized satellites were sent into orbit.

  “What are they doing, Supreme Bashar?” Abulurd asked. “That’s a lot of clutter. Is it an obstacle course? A barricade?”

  “Who can comprehend the demon machines?” grumbled one of the bridge tacticians.

  Heavy, unwieldy structures that looked like cargo containers were hoisted into orbit, a long and dense cluster of them, like an island of… supply depots? Vor shook his head. “It’s an act of desperation. I just don’t know what it means.”

  Rayna’s voice continued to float as background noise across the bridge of the flagship. Vor wished he could shut down her endless lecturing, but too many of his crew had already been captivated by the self-proclaimed visionary. Her goading gave them the suicidal resolve many of them would need to see the battle of Corrin through to its necessary conclusion.

  “Get me a scanner report, Abulurd,” Vor said. “Let’s see what we can find out. I don’t like it.”

  * * *

  WHILE ALL OF the slave pens and human villages were emptied, Gilbertus used his programming skills to add receivers to the myriad components of the Bridge of Hrethgir. The constant signals broadcast by the scrambler satellites now acted as a trip wire for the self-destruct systems installed in all the holding vessels and cargo containers enclosing the human shields. If the satellite signals were disrupted, the self-destruct cycle would activate. It was a straightforward enough task. Now the very Holtzman network that imprisoned the thinking machines was also a first-warning system and a virtual trip wire.

  Gilbertus hadn’t seen the Serena clone in two days, but at least his concentration had been uninterrupted. “Do not concern yourself,” Erasmus said. “If we succeed in stopping the Army of Humanity, then she will be saved, as will we all.”

  “I have done my part, Father.”

  “And now I must do mine, in order to keep you safe.” Even though Omnius watcheyes flitted about, the independent robot had devised special programming systems to distract them. Ever since his destruction by the Corrin-Omnius— and subsequent “resurrection”— Erasmus had distrusted the primary evermind, and the two rebellious copies seemed even more unstable. Erasmus wanted more than one plan to assure his survival— and Gilbertus’s.

  Inside his villa, he surreptitiously hurried the man through a narrow sensor-blocked passageway and then down a set of stairs, until they reached an electronically shielded structure that neither SeurOm nor ThurrOm knew existed. He had meant to use it as a private isolation zone if he ever decided to perform experiments that he did not want the evermind to observe— something Yorek Thurr had once suggested. Now, he hoped it would be a safe place to keep Gilbertus until the crisis passed.

  “Remain here,” he said. “I have provided adequate food supplies for a significant time. I will come back to guide you to safety when the matter is resolved.”

  “Why can’t Serena be here?”

  “It would be dangerous to move her now. The everminds would see. I suggest you use this time to practice your mental exercises.”

  Gilbertus looked at him with large, expressive eyes. “Do not forget about me.”

  “An impossibility, my son.” Gilbertus hugged him, and the robot imitated a response before hurrying off. He did not want the bipartite Omnius to grow suspicious.

  Now that Gilbertus Albans was safe, he had other plans to implement. He went to find the Tlulaxa researcher Rekur Van.

  For some men, hesitation is in their nature. Determination is in mine.

  — SUPREME BASHAR VORIAN ATREIDES,

  transmission to Vengeance Fleet

  Before Vor could give the order to proceed with the final crushing victory at Corrin, a burst of static filled the general comline, cutting off Rayna Butler’s prayers and replacing them with a smooth machine voice.

  “We address the new group of human invaders. It is clear that you have come to Corrin intending to destroy us. Before you act, we must make you aware of certain consequences.”

  The tone was hollow but erudite, with just an edge of smugness. Vor recognized the voice— Erasmus! He clenched his jaw and maintained his silence as he listened, waving the grumbling bridge crew to silence. Close-up views of the robots’ defensive system filled every scanner screen, enhancing the flurry of activity in close orbit.

  “Those are not our images, Supreme Bashar,” Abulurd said. “They’ve piggybacked onto our scanning systems.”

  “Are the Holtzman satellites still functioning?” Vor asked, suddenly fearing their primary line of defense had crumbled.

  “Yes, still capable of scrambler pulses. But somehow their signal is penetrating our own comlines. I’m searching for alternative circuits, trying to reroute.”

  “Let’s hear what Erasmus has to say— then we’ll destroy them all,” Vor growled.

  The robot’s voice spoke over the shifting images. “Your reconnaissance has already observed the ring of containers around Corrin. We have filled these new cargo vessels and many of our battleships with innocent human hostages. Slaves, more than two million of them, taken from our camps and pens.”

  The screen blurred, then shifted to show crowds of faces, people crammed together and moaning. Image after image flickered, a litany of desperate expressions.

  “We have planted explosives inside every one of these cargo containers and vessels. The trigger to their destruction is tied to your own scrambler network installed around Corrin. If any Army of Humanity ship passes through those boundary sensors, the explosives will automatically detonate. Unless you maintain your distance, you will massacre two million innocents.”

  Now Erasmus showed his flowmetal face. The robot was smiling. “We consider the hostages expendable— do you?”

  An uproar of disbelief and curses rippled through the LS Serena Victory and was echoed by all the craft in the Vengeance Fleet and the watchdog vessels stationed over Corrin. All of them looked to Vor for a solution.

  He pressed his lips together, thinking of all the battles he had fought, the friends he had lost, the blood already on his hands. He gathered his courage and spoke slowly, icily. “It doesn’t make a damned bit of difference.” He turned to his crew. “This only reinforces the reasons why we must utterly destroy all thinking machines.”

  “But, Supreme Bashar!” Abulurd blurted. “More than two million people!”

  Instead of answering him, Vor turned to his communications officer to initiate a response. As soon as his image was transmitted, Erasmus reacted with pleased surprise. “Ah, Vorian Atreides— our old enemy! I should not be surprised to find you behind this aggressive game.”

  Vor crossed his arms over his uniformed chest. “Do you think you can make my resolve waver with your cowardly human shields?”

  “I am a robot, Vorian Atreides. You know me. You know I am not bluffing.” He maintained a maddening smile on his flowmetal face.

  Vor thought again of the images of multitudes of prisoners crammed into the linked vessels, their faces pressed against the plaz, frightened and hopeless. He fixed his mind on the ultimate goal, made himself stronger. If not today, he very much doubted he would ever
have another chance at this.

  “Then it is a sad but necessary price for victory.” He turned and gave orders to Abulurd. “Prepare the Vengeance Fleet for full assault. Wait for my command.”

  His crew gasped, then grumbled, before returning steadfastly to their posts. Abulurd stood frozen, as if he couldn’t believe what his mentor had said. True, they had been willing to accept the sacrifice of innocents as regrettable but necessary casualties of war— but not like this.

  After a pause, Erasmus’s voice continued, louder now but still sounding calm. “I thought you might be difficult to convince. Therefore, I have another surprise, Vorian Atreides. Take a closer look.”

  To his shock, after showing several more crowds of captives, the screens focused on a room where a woman sat by herself guarded by two burly combat robots. Everyone in the League of Nobles was familiar with that face, though it had been somewhat idealized over decades of devotion and stylized memorials. Vor himself had known her in life, had even loved her. He’d never had a chance to say goodbye before she brashly flew off to Corrin to defy Omnius and the proposed peace terms.

  Serena Butler.

  Now, over the comline, Rayna Butler’s voice was shrill. “It is Saint Serena! Just like in my vision!”

  Vor stared. She seemed to look somewhat younger than he remembered her, but eight decades had passed since her death. He knew her too well, her every expression, the set of her mouth, the gaze from her haunting lavender eyes. So many times he had seen those fateful last images, archival pictures taken as she boarded her diplomatic craft accompanied by her Seraphim guards and departed for Corrin to meet with the thinking machines— where she had been horrifically tortured and then killed.

  “This is not possible,” he said, forcing a cold calm into his voice. “We all saw the images of her execution. I personally saw the mangled body, which genetic analysis proved to belong to Serena Butler.” He raised his voice. “This is a trick!”