The female sergeant looked at Iblis with eyes as round as glowglobes, but Thurr met him with a hard gaze. “I will accompany you, Grand Patriarch.”
Trying to look courageous and commanding, Iblis snapped at Xico, “Stop acting so frightened, Sergeant. It is certain that this… entity… does not wish to destroy us. Not yet, anyway.”
Even though the rest of their ship’s systems remained deactivated, the hatch opened and a cool, metal-scented breeze drifted inside. The air within the asteroid seemed sterile and preserved, but breathable.
While Iblis was not convinced any of them would survive this encounter, he made a show of bravado anyway. If there was any way out of this, it would be because of his persuasive abilities. As if about to address a representative from an important League World, he smoothed a hand over his hair and stepped out into the brilliantly reflective chamber. Yorek Thurr followed him, matching his steps, and an edgy Floriscia Xico hurried after them, prepared to demonstrate support for her sworn leader despite her obvious trepidation.
Once outside, Iblis put his hands on his hips, drew several deep breaths, and looked around with interest. Finally he shouted, “Why have you captured us?” His words reflected around the walls, and the echoes drained off into silence.
They heard a stirring and a clatter. A human-sized figure stepped out of a shadowed pocket in one of the mirror-plated walls. It was a machine form, but unlike any Iblis had ever seen in his time as a trustee and slave master on Earth: a beautiful yet frightening monstrosity on graceful segmented legs. A head studded with optic threads raised up on a sinuous neck covered with pearlescent scales, while long angular plates protruded from the sides like prismatic butterfly wings. The sharp forelimbs were delicate and curved, resembling the appendages of a praying mantis. The machine reminded him of a robotic dragon, fearsome but aesthetically pleasing.
Cymek.
Beside him, Thurr gaped in astonishment. Such a reaction from the normally cool and unflappable man surprised Iblis.
The dragon machine scrutinized its captives, then clattered forward again. She was much less intimidating than many of the monstrous warrior bodies Iblis had seen other cymeks wear.
Floriscia Xico yelped and yanked out her hand weapon. Before she could fire, though, the dragon-cymek raised a front forelimb adorned with antennas and lenses. A barely visible ripple of energy created turbulence in the air, then struck the anxious Jipol sergeant, knocking her to the polished floor.
“You hrethgir haven’t changed a bit,” the female voice said, emanating from the dragon-walker. “Come now, is that any way to make a first impression? Let’s start our conversation without violence, all right?” She pranced forward, nimble in her exotic configuration, to the spot where Xico lay motionless. “Ajax always said that females were prone to overreaction. Of course, it took me ages to understand what an idiot he was.”
Questions that had accumulated in Iblis’s mind spilled forth like water tumbling through a sluice box. “How do you know who I am? Who are you? Why did you capture our ship? What do you want?”
The cymek’s metallic green eyes glistened. “I’ve been gathering information for years, and your Jihad is the best entertainment I’ve encountered in a long time. Quite a spectator sport, just like some of our old gladiator matches during the Time of Titans. I was glad to be rid of those, though.”
“And who are you?” Iblis demanded, trying to bring to bear all of his persuasive powers. “Identify yourself.”
Every vibration caused the mirrored facets of the dragon body to send out rainbow glitters like water splashing off rocks. “Sadly, I’m not surprised that my story has faded into obscurity over the past millennium. I doubt Agamemnon wrote any glowing biographies of me, as he did with the other Twenty Titans. Ajax probably didn’t even miss me.”
“You’re a Titan?”
The dragon cymek glowed. She had dropped plenty of hints, and Iblis had spent the first half of his life working for the cymeks, being taunted and bullied by the Titans. She talked as if she had been around for as long as Agamemnon and all the others. But Iblis had known all of the surviving Titans. It didn’t make sense.
“You aren’t going to guess?” The cymek sounded almost pouty. “Very well— I am Hecate.”
“Hecate!” said Thurr. “That… is not possible!”
Iblis was stunned as well. “One of the first enslavers of humanity?”
“Oh, not nearly the first. There have always been enslavers of humanity.”
Iblis certainly knew the history of the original cymeks, and had himself been bullied by Ajax. He remembered that Hecate had been Ajax’s lover a thousand years ago, but had surrendered her position among the Titans and departed for parts unknown. No one had seen her in many centuries.
“You consider us enslavers of humanity? So ominous-sounding, when it was nothing more than a youthful indiscretion. I was reckless and impetuous then. But there’s only so far one can go in developing new paradigms of hedonism.” Hecate made a wistful sound. “But much has changed and I’ve had ample time to reconsider. I’ve grown up, you might say. A thousand years of brooding will do that to you.”
Pretending a comfort he did not feel, Iblis sat by the dragon cymek, taking care not to get too close to the winglike protrusions. She sat higher than he did. His mind felt as if it might explode from all the possibilities gathering like thunderclouds in his imagination. “You are correct, Hecate. Perhaps we do have a great deal to talk about.”
Thurr did not give a second glance to the stunned Xico, as if she no longer mattered. He looked at Iblis with black, cadaverous eyes. Then he turned to Hecate and said, “We need to know where you’ve been. Are you in league with the Titans? Or Omnius?”
The female cymek made a rude snort. “Omnius didn’t even exist when I left the Old Empire. And the Titans— why would I come back to those fools? I have no intention of making such a mistake ever again.”
“You seem to have been watching closely though,” Thurr muttered. “You probably know a great deal about the Synchronized Worlds.”
Iblis tried to digest the situation. “I’ve heard stories about you, Hecate, but I don’t know how much is the truth. Why did you leave the Titans behind? What is it you want now?”
Hecate lowered her dragon form as if hunkering down to tell a story. Iblis’s fear had given way to curiosity and fascination.
“In the beginning I joined Tlaloc and his rebels because I was enraptured with the idea of power and grandeur. I was bored then, and easily impressed. When they recruited Ajax to be their military enforcer, he brought me with him. I was just his plaything, but I pleased him well enough. After the Titans overthrew the Empire, I found I liked the trappings of leadership: large estates, doting servants, fine clothes, and glittering jewels. It was all quite pleasant, though admittedly shallow.”
Iblis struggled to match this information with his preconceived image of the lone Titan who had washed her hands of conquest. “I… knew Ajax.” He lifted his chin, not sure if it would be wise to tell her too much. “He was a bully.”
“Oh, much more than a bully. He was a bloodthirsty thug, a psychotic killer. A complete bastard.”
“You were his lover,” Iblis pointed out. “And now you want us to trust you and accept your friendship?”
Thurr’s dead eyes narrowed, as if he distrusted her every answer. “What attracted you to such a man in the first place? Was he different before he became a Titan?”
“Oh, he always had a terrible violence within him, but Ajax was able to acquire the treasures and gifts I wanted. He made me feel special, though I was somewhat fatuous then.
“Later, listening to Tlaloc’s great speeches, I started to get a greater sense of things… but I wasn’t really paying attention. Tlaloc was a great visionary, you must understand. Agamemnon, Juno, and Barbarossa were all enamored with the idea of the conquest. So I followed along. I had no particular interest in achieving glory. I simply wanted the trappings of an Empress,
not unlike your own wife, Iblis Ginjo.” He squirmed. She paused. Her ornate head swiveled from side to side. “But I’m not that person anymore. Far from it.”
Beside them, the young Jipol sergeant began to stir, but neither Iblis nor Thurr paid any attention to her.
“Eventually, I figured out that everything I had wanted amounted to nothing. Maybe I was a late bloomer, but eventually I understood the point.” Her tiny laugh sounded self-congratulatory. “If I’d had such feelings earlier, maybe the Time of Titans would have been different. After my transformation into a cymek, I got tired of sparkling treasures. Pretty baubles just don’t look the same through optic threads and all-spectrum sensors. I came to value other things, since I had all the time a human being could imagine.”
“An enlightened cymek,” Thurr muttered, as if he found the very concept incomprehensible.
“Is that so different from a Cogitor? I remember when I turned a century old. A hundred years! That still sounds ancient to me, though now I’ve been around ten times as long. But inside my cymek body, I felt as young and energetic as ever. I chose to better myself, studying philosophy and literature, contemplating the good that people could accomplish. Sure, the Old Empire was a blot on the potential of the human race. A tedious waste of time, a clock winding down. It nearly extinguished the individual human spirit and the creative drive.
“But as a cymek, I began to wonder what was the point of having immortality for its own sake? It gets awfully dull simply existing for centuries. In front of me the future looked bleak and featureless.” She swiveled her head turret on its sinuous neck, as if studying her own reflections in the faceted wall mirrors.
“I had grown apart from Ajax. In our cymek bodies we had no need for each other’s physical companionship. And he was— let’s admit it— a downright ass. I must have been stupid or blind not to see it earlier. I changed and grew, but Ajax never matured beyond being a bully. I came to realize that he never would. With more power and fewer inhibitions, his penchant for bloodshed became unbearable to me. That horrific slaughter on Walgis during the First Hrethgir Rebellion was the last straw… soI left him. I left all of them. I didn’t need them, after all. I told all the Titans what they could do with their dominion.
“Quietly, I had already built a ship for myself, along with alternative bodies to accommodate my preservation canister. I intended to go on a great voyage of discovery across the whole universe. A galactic sightseer with all the time any person could desire. I can’t say the other Titans were sad to see me go.” Hecate paused, her gleaming metal limbs twitching. “Then, less than two years afterward, Omnius took over.”
Thurr’s throat sounded dry. “And you stayed away for a thousand years? That is why none of the cymeks know about you now?”
“I’m sure they’ve tried to forget. But I returned half a century ago, and I’ve been gathering information. Snooping, you might say. I’ve seen what Omnius has done. It’s a… different sort of mess than the one created by the Titans.”
“Very few of the original twenty remain,” Iblis said, cautiously. “You know that… even Ajax is dead?”
“Oh, I know.” Hecate sounded flippant. “And I know you killed him.”
Iblis felt a cold grip on his heart. He could not answer her, knowing that any excuse would sound weak, and he did not dare attempt a lie.
She laughed, an artificial sound in her mechanical apparatus. “Don’t fret— I should thank you for that. Perhaps many of Ajax’s potential victims will, one day. Frankly, I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did. In all those years of rule, he never learned. It’s pathetic that one man could waste so many opportunities.” She raised two segmented forelimbs. “The question is, are you going to squander this opportunity?”
Iblis swallowed hard. “What is it you want of me, Hecate? What opportunity?”
“I know all about your Jihad, and I know who you are, Iblis Ginjo. Or should I be formal and call you Grand Patriarch? Interesting title— did you make it up yourself? That’s why I’ve tracked you down. I think we can accomplish a lot together.”
Iblis’s heart swelled with excitement, but he didn’t show it. “Do you have a plan or long-range vision? Or are you just bored?”
“Am I not allowed to have my own motives? Perhaps I have been simmering about the Titans for all these years, and now I’ve returned. The Jihad could be my chance to join in.” She scratched a metal forelimb on the polished ground. “Does it matter, so long as I help you achieve victory?”
Iblis looked at Thurr. Neither man could argue with her rationale. At their feet, Xico came slightly more awake, blinking away disorientation.
“Think of it. While my poor fellow Titans are all forced to serve Omnius, I’ve remained free and independent. Once Agamemnon finds out that I’ve decided to help mere hrethgir, his brain will stew in its own electrafluid! But I’ve become a little bit repentant. Now that humans have finally decided to fight back with all their might, I want to join the party.”
Iblis caught his breath as unexpected possibilities surged through him. What a remarkable ally this dragon cymek could be! “To have one of the original Titans join our Jihad would be an incredible advantage for us, Hecate. I would not turn down your aid. You could be a… secret weapon.”
“Secret weapon!” Hecate emitted a chuckling sound. “I like that.”
But the political part of his mind understood that such a sensational comrade-in-arms might cause a terrific uproar among the more superstitious elements of the populace, given the fervor of the jihadis and their hatred toward thinking machines in all forms. The League Parliament and the Jihad Council would argue furiously for days, squandering this remarkable opportunity.
Day by day, the incomprehensible protests against the Jihad grew more strenuous, people weary of the fighting and wanting some sort of magical peace. What would they do if they knew about Hecate?
But the renegade Titan seemed somewhat flippant and volatile. She might grow impatient with disorganized humans and withdraw her support.
“It would be best for now if we kept our involvement secret,” Thurr said, as if reading the Grand Patriarch’s mind. “That way we need not get caught up in League bickering and politics.”
“Ah, you are such practical men. Do you have a concrete task for me? I’m anxious to get started.”
“Yes!” Iblis’s eyes shone. “You can help us turn a lost cause into a victory.”
He explained what he had in mind.
War brings out the worst in human nature, and the best.
— SWORDMASTER JAV BARRI
While Primero Harkonnen’s fleet prepared to face the machine warships above Ix, Jool Noret and a small team of commandos fought a pitched battle in caves that laced the planet’s crust.
The Primero had given them their orders before they boarded a cannonball shuttle and plunged to the surface of the embattled Synchronized World. “Five separate teams will try to fight their way through the tunnels beneath the central computer nexus of the Ix-Omnius. Each team will carry a compact, city-killer warhead. Your jobis to deliver it to the Omnius stronghold. With luck, at least one of the teams will achieve the objective.”
“Won’t atomics cause a great many casualties?” Jool Noret asked.
“Yes,” the Primero admitted. “But Omnius is attempting to exterminate all humans in the catacombs of Ix. This city-killer bomb is designed to deliver an intense localized vaporization pulse that will wipe gelcircuitry brains. It’s a tactical weapon, so the number of wounded will be minimal, and the damage to Ixian industrial facilities will be restricted.” His expression seemed about to fall, but he masked his look of dismay. “It’s the best we can do. But because of the need for precision, we’ll have to send in several teams to make sure the device is delivered exactly on target. This will not be an easy task.”
It seemed to be a suicide mission, with overwhelming odds against success. Jool Noret had been the first to volunteer….
Following uni
formed jihadis into the fray, Noret hurled his last scrambler-pulse grenade. It clattered as it rolled down the slight incline toward a squad of assassin robots that thundered toward them. The grenade detonated with a disruptive Holtzman pulse that turned the fighting robots into motionless sparking hulks, like scrap-metal statues.
But the twisted tunnels and thick stone walls made each scrambler grenade dissipate too quickly. And other robotic killers kept coming.
Without pause or question, Noret bulled his way ahead, carrying his array of weapons and his father’s pulse-sword. Grenades seemed like a coward’s path to victory, and he preferred to vanquish his foes one by one, in hand-to-hand combat.
If only there weren’t so many of them.
Though he was just a young mercenary and not in charge of the commando team, Noret led the charge anyway, bypassing the cluttered hulks of deactivated robots. The cave walls still thrummed with echoes from the last scrambler pulse. Behind him, other jihadis paused to pummel and kick the neutralized combat robots, but the impatient Noret urged them ahead. “Spend your energy on real opponents that need killing, not on ones that have already been vanquished.”
According to schematics from Ixian survivors, these catacombs passed beneath the primary machine industries and computer centers. The team’s gaunt and haunted-looking contact man, an Ixian named Handon, had lost his companions, his mate, and children during the recent bloodbath spearheaded by the Titan Xerxes.
The unfortunate man gave them horrific details, then led the way through the cramped passageways. If the determined mercenaries could plant their small atomic in the central fortified complex that held the local evermind’s primary gelsphere, they could free Ix, once and for all.
Handon’s clothes were tattered, his arms and chest skeletal, his hair long and unkempt. But the refugee’s expression remained dedicated. “This way. We are almost there.” He had lived for six months underground, eluding killer robots, destroying thirty-one of them himself.
Dune: The Machine Crusade Page 28
