Dune: The Battle of Corrin

by Brian Herbert; Kevin J. Anderson

  Astonished, Abulurd stared at him, feeling misery well up inside, his eyes filling with a burning sheen of tears. He couldn’t believe it.

  Vor turned his back on him and spoke again. “Do you require an armed escort?”

  “That will not be necessary, sir.” Abulurd left the bridge— along with his hopes and his career— behind.

  Human life is not negotiable.

  — BASHAR ABULURD HARKONNEN,

  private journals

  Confined to his quarters and stripped of his duties, Abulurd Harkonnen felt the LS Serena Victory accelerate in its final run toward Corrin and the fateful line formed by Omnius’s Bridge of Hrethgir.

  Over the flagship intercom, the Supreme Bashar delivered a rousing speech to rally his troops for the heartless attack. “Omnius believes he can prevent our victory by placing human shields in orbit around Corrin. He thinks that by erecting this ‘Bridge of Hrethgir’ we will lose our resolve and leave him to continue his poisonous plans. But he is sorely mistaken.

  “The evermind has chosen to place millions of innocent humans where they are sure to be killed. This only reaffirms the necessity for destroying him, no matter the cost! The thinking machines wallow in their inhumanity, just as we rejoice in our righteousness. Let this be our last battlefield! Follow me to victory, for the sake of our children and all future generations of humanity.”

  Abulurd knew that Vor, by sheer force of will, would keep the Army of Humanity soldiers focused on their duty instead of their doubts until they had completed their work. This was the point of no return. Momentum would carry them forward to the terrible end. The soldiers would not be able to think about what they were doing until it was too late. That was Vor’s intent.

  But Abulurd— trapped in his cabin— had nothing to do but consider the consequences. Damn it, these deaths were unnecessary. Unnecessary! Vor had labeled this mission an emergency and imposed an artificial deadline on this mission, then refused to reconsider for no better reason than because he did not want to.

  Faykan had withdrawn to where he and his nobles could observe and keep their hands clean. Vor would dutifully accept full responsibility for the slaughter. But Abulurd Harkonnen would not.

  He looked at the rank insignia on his uniform. He had been so proud when Vor had pinned the bashar cluster there. The young officer had placed all his hopes and devotion on Vorian Atreides. On his mentor’s nobility and honor.

  Now that relationship had fallen to ruin, and for what? All those people didn’t need to die. Earlier in the Jihad, Vorian Atreides had made his name by coming up with innovative twists and solutions, deceiving the thinking machines with a decoy fleet around Poritrin or with a damaging computer virus distributed through his unwitting “friend” Seurat. Now, though, the Supreme Bashar called himself a hawk. Impatient and vengeful, he would lead his troops in one battle too many.

  With a deep pang that was almost physical, Abulurd removed his officer’s insignia and set it on his bureau. Then he looked at himself in the mirror, a man without any rank. Just a man with a conscience. He was ashamed to be part of this military operation.

  But perhaps he could salvage this situation before it became a tragedy, force Vorian to pause, take time to reconsider. He knew the Supreme Bashar still had greatness within him. He had to delay this foolhardy action in any way he could.

  Abulurd left his quarters, intentionally defying orders. It was only the beginning.

  He marched down the corridors, feeling a resolve and determination that must be equivalent to Vorian’s right now. Twenty years ago, he had not participated in the Great Purge that had killed so many billions of enslaved human beings. He had remained behind on Salusa Secundus to oversee the evacuation and last-minute defense of the League capital. Vorian Atreides had seen that duty as a kindness, a way to shield the sensitive young officer from so much bloodshed, horror, and guilt.

  Now Abulurd would have to return the favor. To do the right thing, and to save the Supreme Bashar from a terrible decision, Abulurd was willing to sacrifice his own military career. In the end he was sure Vor would see the wisdom in what Abulurd had to do.

  He hurried to the weapons-control deck of the flagship. From the interconnected primary command center, Abulurd could access the firing controls for the entire fleet. The systems were all coordinated from this point, though each battleship had the option of independent firing, if permitted by LS Serena Victory.

  Upon launching the great fleet, Rayna Butler and her antitechnology zealots had been suspicious of the sophisticated command-and-control links on which the Army of Humanity relied. Among the concessions Viceroy Butler had given to his powerful niece was that all those systems would be disengaged forever, but only after the thinking machines were vanquished. In the meantime, they had been altered so that a human being had to be in the loop of activation and command. The systems could not be fully automated. They required a real person to direct the weapons fire from the flagship.

  At the beginning of this mission, when they’d set off from Salusa Secundus, Vorian Atreides had trusted his executive officer completely. Always realistic, preparing for the event that something might happen to him, Vor had given Bashar Abulurd Harkonnen the master key set, the sequence of codes that could access all of the fleet’s built-in weapons in a showdown— a down payment on his promise to help restore honor and respect to the Harkonnen name.

  And while the key set allowed Abulurd to use all of the Vengeance Fleet’s weapons, it could also serve to do something entirely different.

  A crowd of weaponry technicians worked at their consoles, preparing for battle against the machine warships. The flagship ballista and the accompanying human warships closed in on their fateful confrontation, reaching the line that would trigger the senseless slaughter of millions of humans inside the Bridge. Engrossed in his battle plans and not wanting to damage morale, the Supreme Bashar had not yet announced Abulurd’s punishment to the whole crew.

  Thus, when he entered the weapons-control deck and the officers looked up at the bashar, they did not question Abulurd’s presence or his missing insignia in the heat of the impending engagement.

  Returning the automatic salutes the other soldiers gave him, Abulurd went directly to the primary station. Within minutes, the fleet commander would give the order to open fire.

  As soon as he input the code from the master key, Abulurd received access to all the weapons controls. He stared at a console screen, intimidated and awed by the momentous action he was about to take. Before he could change his mind, he used his master key again to alter the access code to a sequence only he knew.

  As he approached the battle zone, Vor would discover that he no longer had control over the weaponry that he needed for the fight. He wouldn’t be able to shoot. Without any firepower, he would have no choice but to back off and reconsider. It would give him time to take a deep breath and find another way.

  With a whispered prayer, Abulurd withdrew from the station. It would not be long before they discovered what he had done.

  The Army of Humanity picked up speed, heading into their dramatic confrontation without even realizing that they had been mercifully hamstrung.

  War is a combination of art, psychology, and science. The successful commander knows how to apply each of these components, and when.

  — SUPREME BASHAR VORIAN ATREIDES

  I am a hawk. That is my symbol.

  The bloated giant sun peeked around the edge of Corrin, painting bloodstains on the hulls of the nearest ships with its somber light. Just inside the scrambler-satellite net, Omnius had clustered defensive ships and rigged cargo containers filled with innocent human shields. The first waves of the shielded Vengeance Fleet would crash through that obstacle, and damn the consequences.

  Past the gauntlet the machines had erected, clouds covered much of the surface of the world. Vor saw a flash of lightning and then another, but the worst storms were about to occur in space.

  Ahead of him, the n
etwork of scrambler satellites formed a line of death for over two million hostages. Including Serena Butler. I can make no other decision. If that is truly Serena, alive after all these years, then she would understand— in fact, she would demand it.

  And if it wasn’t Serena Butler, then what did it matter? He had already made up his mind.

  As the fleet moved forward, picking up speed, closing the noose, the soldiers were uneasy. Some prayed that the thinking machines would back down at the last minute. But Vor knew that wouldn’t happen. Uncounted billions of enslaved humans had already been annihilated during the nuclear purge of the Synchronized Worlds. The actions of this day would be regrettable, but no worse than what had gone before. And there would finally be an end to the thinking machines.

  Even after learning of the human shields in the “Bridge,” his resolve had not wavered. The very fact that the machines would do something so desperate told him that they had everything to lose here. The price of victory is high… but acceptable.

  Abulurd’s vocal objection, though, had been a weighty disappointment to him. Abulurd, of all people, knew how important this offensive was— for Vor and for all of humanity. He should have been helping the Supreme Bashar, not interfering with the orders of his superior officer— his friend.

  Vor felt ice in the pit of his stomach. Xavier would never have hesitated in this situation. He would have made the necessary choice.

  From her safe position aboard the diplomatic vessel, Rayna transmitted her prayers, clearly torn between her hatred for thinking machines and wanting to save the miraculously returned Serena Butler and her martyred child. Vor wondered if the Cult leader even saw the paradox here. If Rayna truly believed that the spirit of Saint Serena had appeared to her in a fever vision, then how could she believe the real Serena was still alive? It made no sense.

  The Vengeance Fleet moved into range of the scrambler satellites. “Prepare to engage the enemy. Weapons officers, man your stations. Power up all systems and be ready to fire at my command. We will strike like a flaming sword from the sky.”

  He swallowed with a dry throat. If he was wrong in his guess that Omnius did not know of the laser-shield interaction, in a few seconds the first line of League warships would be instantly vaporized in a pseudo-atomic explosion.

  “As we approach, select your key targets,” he said.

  “Sir, what if there are human hostages aboard the robotic warships?”

  Vor whirled, saw the gunnery officer jump at his reaction. “And what if there aren’t? Don’t worry about them. Do your job, Bator.” His voice sounded hollow. Once the Bridge of Hrethgir detonated, there would be nothing to hold back the retaliatory rage of the Army of Humanity. In a way, he wanted to be done with it, so the fleet could concentrate on the urgent task before them.

  Ready to open fire and do what he had to, he inched his fingers closer to the touchpad that would commence the firing sequence. He wanted to hurt the machines exactly as they had hurt humans for so many generations.

  Finally, the flagship’s scanning officer reported: “In range, Supreme Bashar!”

  “Commence bombardment. Let’s soften them up!”

  Wanting to fire the first shot himself, Vor touched the firing pad, but nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. “Damn!”

  Around the command deck, other gunnery officers let out confused mutters and shouts of alarm. Chatter burst over the comlines.

  “Sir, weapons are inactive across the entire fleet! We can’t fire a single shot.”

  His officers scurried for answers, filling the comlines that connected the flagship with the rest of the fleet and asking questions. When the explanation came, it was like acid thrown in Vor’s face.

  “This is Abulurd Harkonnen,” a voice boomed over the speakers. “In order to prevent the unnecessary murder of millions of innocent people, I have disabled the firing controls on every weapons battery in the fleet. Supreme Bashar Atreides, we must find a better solution than this. You have no choice now but to back off.”

  “Bring him to me!” Vor said. Security troops rushed from the command deck. He turned in his chair. “And get those weapons back online!”

  “We can’t do a thing unless we have the coded control sequence— and Bashar Harkonnen has changed it.”

  “Now we see why he took the name Harkonnen,” one of the gunnery officers snarled. “He’s afraid to fight the machines.”

  “Enough.” Vor stopped himself from saying anything more. He reeled, unable to understand how his protégé could have done this, why Abulurd would have risked all their lives by interfering at the most critical moment. “Bypass what systems you can, rig manual launch sequences and targeting operations if you have to. Otherwise, we may have to open the cargo hold doors and throw rocks at the enemy.”

  “It’ll take a few minutes, Supreme Bashar.”

  “Sir, do we keep going forward?” the navigator said. “We’re almost to the Bridge.”

  Thoughts spun through Vor’s mind, almost overwhelming him with the clamor of betrayal he felt at what Abulurd had apparently done. “If we slow now, the machines will know something’s wrong.”

  “We dare not hesitate!” one of the Cultist crewmen cried. “The demon machines will think we’ve wavered in our holy purpose.”

  Vor was sure Omnius wouldn’t think like that. “More likely they’ll suspect technical difficulties, a weakness.” He made his voice hard, inflexible. “Proceed. We’ll just need to do this the hard way.” He would have only a few minutes to make Abulurd put the systems back online. Maybe he could do it in time.

  Abulurd Harkonnen was easy to find, and he did not resist. He actually looked proud of himself when the guards dragged him back to the command bridge. He carried no weapons and wore a hard expression on his face that cut Vor like a stiletto. There was no insignia on Abulurd’s coat.

  Eyes blazing with cold fury, Vor strode forward. “What have you done? By God and Serena, tell me what you have done!”

  The other man looked at him as if hoping for understanding. “I have saved you from making a terrible mistake. I have saved millions of lives.”

  Vor grabbed Abulurd by the uniform coat. “You’re a fool! Unless we finish this now, today, you might have doomed us all and opened the door for another thousand years of machine slavery.”

  The gunnery officer sneered. “A coward, just like his grandfather.”

  “No, not like Xavier.” Vor looked at Abulurd, his frustration burning away all good memories of the times they had spent together. “This man is in his own universe of cowardice, Bator. Don’t compare him with anyone else.”

  Abulurd remained motionless in Vor’s grip but continued to plead. “It doesn’t have to be this way. If you’ll only— “

  Vor’s voice was icy. “Bashar Harkonnen, I command you to give me the new codes. We don’t have much time.”

  “Sorry, I can’t do that. It’s the only way you’ll look at the problem in a different light. You’ll have to pull back.”

  “You are endangering the lives of the entire Vengeance Fleet!”

  The younger man did not even seem intimidated. “You’re the one endangering lives, Vorian, not me.”

  “Do not dare to speak my name again. You presume upon a friendship that no longer exists.” Disgusted, Vor shoved him away, and Abulurd stumbled to keep his footing. Vor knew he could not follow through on any threat of torture. Not with Abulurd. “You have betrayed the future of humanity!”

  Alarmed, the navigator called out in a strained voice. “Coming up on the satellite boundary, Supreme Bashar. Should I reduce speed?”

  “No! We proceed with the offensive, no matter— “

  Abulurd gasped. “You can’t! You have to stop now, regroup! Try to negotiate with Omnius. Your ships have no weapons— “

  “The machines don’t know that. And unlike Erasmus, I can bluff.” A deadly calm came over Vor. Stripped of their long-range weapons, the Vengeance Fleet closed toward the machine f
orces. In Vor’s mind, he had committed too much to risk failure. “Besides, as long as I have my imagination, I am never without weapons.”

  Turning away from the ghostly pale Abulurd, Vor said, “Get him out of my sight and put him under constant guard.” Three angry-looking guards closed in around him, as if looking for an excuse to beat the traitor. “I’ll worry about what to do with him later— if we survive this day.”

  The history of warfare is made up of moments… and decisions… that could have gone either way.

  — Erasmus Dialogues,

  final Corrin entries

  Although he sifted through his long lifetime of memories, Erasmus could find no other time when he had been so deeply troubled. So close to… panic and despair? To avert disaster, he needed to act swiftly— to save Gilbertus.

  Interesting, he thought with such an intense flash of insight that he was almost distracted from the emergency. Perhaps I now have a better grasp of why Serena Butler was so frantic to protect her child.

  As an independent robot and advisor to the Omnius incarnations, Erasmus had access to every system on Corrin. In a shielded chamber deep beneath the capital city, he entered a room bathed in a holographic grid. The tactical image showed a scale model of the defenses around the planet, including the heavily armed robotic battleships and the numerous cargo and prison chambers that formed the Bridge of Hrethgir— including the one that held Gilbertus and the Serena clone. He could also see the human Vengeance Fleet just sliding into the proximity of the grid. Moment by moment, the display shifted as ships changed position, approaching the boundary of the satellite network that would trigger all the explosives and kill the human shields.

  The robot’s gelcircuitry mind interfaced with the command network. He quickly analyzed the programming that his brilliant human ward had implemented.