In the vicinity of Caladan, at the edge of Omnius’s sphere of influence, Vor plotted from memory the usual routes he and Seurat had taken on their update runs. Since unleashing the unwitting Trojan Horse robot, Vor had heard scattered reports about Synchronized World breakdowns, and by plotting the datapoints of chaos he was able to trace the line of Seurat’s route.
No further damage had been reported in some time, and Vor was not surprised that the machines had eventually caught on to the problem. He wondered what Seurat’s fate had been, once the evermind discovered his hidden destructive programming. A sophisticated computer was not supposed to be vindictive, and Vor hoped Omnius hadn’t simply destroyed the robot captain out of spite.
That would have been grossly inefficient and a waste of resources.
Vor spent a week on solo patrol, following the lines of the traditional update route. He justified his search as “gathering vital intelligence for League military planning,” and it gave him the advantage of spending time alone, so that he could consider his unexpected feelings for Leronica.
He had always been aloof, enjoying himself on shore leave or temporary assignments on scattered League Worlds, but somehow this woman from Caladan had found a convoluted way into his heart. She had planted roots inside his very soul, and— like a time bomb going off— he was just now beginning to realize it. Vor was confused and happy at the realization… and deeply sad that he was not with her. Love had never been a foreign concept to him, though he had been blind to the possibility that it could feel anything like this. Now he understood how Xavier felt toward Octa.
But drifting alone through space on the edge of enemy territory, preoccupied as he was with bittersweet thoughts, did little to advance the Jihad. The ongoing war should have been his only priority….
When the large black-and-silver update ship crossed his path and loomed before him, Vor’s attention swung back to more immediate concerns.
The update craft should have fled, should have engaged in evasive maneuvers to avoid even a small Jihad warship. If the robot captain carried an update of the computer evermind, his programming would command him to protect the silvery gelsphere at all costs.
But the update ship stopped, and Vor faced it in open space.
He recognized the configuration of the vessel, though the design appeared to have been modified, repaired, and expanded. Without a doubt, this was the same ship he had found drifting lost in high orbit over the Earth’s solar system.
He opened the comline and transmitted immediately. “Old Metalmind. I thought I might find you out here.”
Then he noticed that the ship’s modifications included a battery of weaponry. Kinetic projectile ports slid open now and crackled red, ready to fire.
Vor felt a prickle of cool sweat on his neck. “Are you going to blow me out of space without even saying hello?”
“Hello, Vorian Atreides.” Coppery-faced Seurat appeared on his screen. “There, I have taken care of the pleasantries. Now would it be acceptable for me to destroy you?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” Vor kept his fingers on his own weapons controls. He could perhaps take the robot captain by surprise, though the update vessel seemed to outgun him significantly. “It appears Omnius has improved your odds with all those guns. I was wondering when the thinking machines would get around to that.”
“I am aware of what you did to me and through me, Vorian. According to my records, eight Synchronized Worlds were severely damaged, due to the programming virus introduced by the update sphere I delivered. I presume you were responsible for that?”
“I can’t take all the credit, Old Metalmind.” Vor grinned. “After all, you yourself delivered each one of those programming time bombs. And you were the one who taught me so much about gelcircuitry and basic programming. See? It was a cooperative effort.”
Seurat’s flowmetal face gleamed in the lights from his update ship’s cockpit. “Then I regret having been such an excellent teacher.”
* * *
AS SEURAT SCANNED the image of Vorian Atreides, he used his previous experience and adaptive programming to analyze just what the human must be thinking. The robot Erasmus would have envied the opportunity.
After his capture and return to Corrin, where the corrupted update sphere was confiscated, Seurat endured an extensive debriefing by the restored Omnius. It soon became apparent what had taken place, and the sabotaged programming was stripped away, though Erasmus recommended the safest course: destroy all memories contained within the Earth-Omnius copy. “Those events occurred twenty-six standard years ago. While they may be interesting, they are not particularly relevant data and not worth the risk, Omnius.”
Seurat suspected that, for reasons of his own, Erasmus did not want the evermind to have the information. The update pilot did not mention this, however, since he had no wish to incur the displeasure of the other independent robot.
After the explanations were logged and filed, and before Seurat could be assigned to a new and appropriate update run specifically designed to restore the Omnius incarnations on the virus-damaged worlds, Erasmus had spent a day in intense high-speed conversation with the robot pilot.
“I have studied humans for centuries. I have performed experiments, collected information, and made extrapolations to explain erratic human behavior. I learned a great deal from Serena Butler, and now I find that my new experiment raising and training Gilbertus Albans yields fresh insights.
“However, Seurat, you also had a unique opportunity. You spent years accompanied by the trustee Vorian Atreides, son of the Titan Agamemnon. I now require you to share with me your observations and any relevant details that might assist me in my quest to comprehend human nature.”
Seurat could not refuse. With an exchange of information that was similar to, but much briefer than, the synchronization of an update sphere, he collated, summarized, and transferred all conversations and memories he had of Vorian Atreides.
As Seurat did this, he reviewed all of those memories himself and recalled with a reaction akin to fondness all the enjoyable flights on the Dream Voyager. Now that the robot pilot was alone on a new update ship— one which, sadly, had only a numerical designation and no name— he realized that he much preferred having the company….
The two ships now faced each other in space, each with enough weapons to destroy the other, and Seurat found he did not wish to annihilate his former companion. “Do you recall our seventh mission to Walgis, Vorian Atreides? Twenty-eight years ago? We experienced a great deal of difficulty after leaving the system.”
Vor chuckled. “Difficulty? That’s quite an understatement. We ran into a meteor swarm that ripped open the side of the Dream Voyager. All of our atmosphere gushed out— and I was almost sucked out with it.”
Seurat continued to stare at his friend and nemesis. “Yes, but I caught you and held you in my grip. I refused to let go.”
“Really? I don’t remember all the details,” Vor said. “I was pretty busy gasping for air. Explosive decompression is quite unpleasant for a human, you know.”
“I am aware of this. I carried you to a small storage cubicle and sealed you inside where I could maintain atmospheric pressure.”
“You wouldn’t let me out for almost two days,” Vor said. “I was starving by the time you opened the door again. You hadn’t thought to give me any rations.”
“My thought was to save your life, and I required that much time to repair the hull damage and reestablish the life-support systems.”
Vor looked at him wistfully, and then a puzzled frown creased his face. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for that.”
“Robots do not require gratitude, Vorian Atreides. I have, however, expended a great deal of effort to keep you alive and intact— on a significant number of occasions. Therefore, it would be foolish for me to destroy you now.”
Seurat powered down his weapons systems and retracted his missile launchers and projectile tubes. For a moment the robot
pilot was vulnerable, if Vorian Atreides chose to blast away. The thinking machine fired up his engines, spun about on his central axis, and launched the ship away at the highest possible velocity before Vor could react. Seurat was out of range by the time his human companion managed to transmit a burst of surprised questions.
Baffled and smiling, Vor drifted for a time in his scout ship. Then he began to laugh out loud.
Leadership hides behind many guises.
— IBLIS GINJO, Options for Total Liberation
When he returned from his rushed and secret meeting with Hecate, Iblis learned that Serena had called a business meeting of the Jihad Council, even though he wasn’t expected to be there. He hurried directly from the spaceport to the Council chambers, determined not to be cut out of the decision-making process. Several weeks had passed, and he needed to catch up.
He arrived at the entrance to the inner chambers just as Serena signaled the beginning of the session, only to find the chief Seraph guarding the doorway. Niriem hesitated, as if wrestling with her own loyalties, then after an instant, allowed him to enter.
Ensconced at the head of the polished meeting table, the Priestess of the Jihad seemed surprised by his presence. Iblis quickly found a seat as close to her as possible, though it was not his accustomed spot. Without comment, Serena launched into an obviously well-rehearsed speech, while the others listened intently.
“We cannot continue this Jihad alone. Human passion is powerful, but League resources are no match for the forces Omnius can bring to bear against us. The thinking machines can manufacture multiple replacement robots for every one we destroy. But for each lost jihadi fighter, a human life is forever snuffed out. We must preserve as many of those precious lives as we can.”
“What do you propose, Serena?” Iblis chose his words and tone cautiously, in the hope that he could find a way to turn her orders to his own ends. When he swept his gaze around the table, he saw to his surprise the small, anxious-looking Tlulaxa flesh merchant Rekur Van sitting at the far end of the room. He appeared to have been summoned especially for this meeting, and looked out of place. Discreetly, Iblis raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but the Tlulaxa man’s only response was a perplexed expression.
Serena said, “Juhad is and mercenaries are not the only warriors in our holy cause. It is time I recognized and blessed some of the other great contributors to our fight.” She smiled and gestured to Rekur Van, who flushed red with embarrassment at the attention.
“Though they have not engaged in active combat against the evil machines, the Tlulaxa have given our fighters much. The products of their organ farms have healed our injured veterans so that they can fight again. My dear friend Primero Harkonnen is the most famous beneficiary of all.” She nodded graciously toward the flesh merchant and a smattering of applause rippled around the table.
“From the time I was a young Parliamentarian,” Serena continued, “it was my fervent dream to bring Unallied Planets into the League of Nobles. Now, many of those worlds, including Caladan, have made overtures to us about joining the League. I intend to make a tour of potential member planets, stopping first at Tlulax. I wish to see the marvelous organ farms for myself and speak with the leaders, in hopes that they will consider joining us formally. I will see their wondrous cities and show them how much the Priestess of the Jihad appreciates their efforts on our behalf.”
Iblis felt a sudden lump in his chest, as his delicate plans continued to crumble. He had secret agreements with the Tlulaxa organ industry, and Serena did not know what she was doing! “Such plans may be hasty, Priestess. The people of Tlulax guard their privacy, and we should respect that. I am not certain how they would react to a surprise visit.”
Eyes flashing with displeasure, Serena crossed her arms over her white-robed chest. “I have walked among my people on many planets. It is inconceivable that the Tlulaxa leadership would not welcome a visit from the Priestess of the Jihad. Our fighters owe a tremendous debt to them. They cannot possibly have anything to hide— could you, Rekur Van?”
“Of course he doesn’t,” Iblis said quickly. “I am certain the government of Tlulax would be delighted to have you call upon them. However, we must dispatch a messenger to the Thalim system with all due haste so that they can prepare for your arrival. That is normal diplomatic procedure.”
“Very well, but the war moves at its own pace, and we must remain one step ahead of it.” As she outlined her ideas to the Council members, Iblis remained seated with an unreadable expression on his face.
He wondered what Hecate intended to do to help them. He hoped it was significant… and soon.
* * *
FOR MONTHS AFTER Seurat had unintentionally delivered his rampant computer virus, Bela Tegeuse reeled from its debilitating effects. Surviving machines struggled to recover, but had difficulty communicating with the crippled evermind. Finally, the independent robots cut off damaged segments of the Omnius incarnation so that only a glimmer of the sprawling computer’s sentience remained operational.
They were incredibly vulnerable.
On this dim and cloudy world where slaves grew food only by bathing crops under glaring artificial lights, the angry populace noticed the machines’ weakness and formulated plans to take advantage of it. The robots, however, aware that revolts had occurred on many Synchronized Worlds, watched for any obvious signs of a potential uprising.
Bela Tegeuse could only return to parity with other Synchronized Worlds by receiving a new and uncorrupted copy of the evermind. So they waited…
When a lone, unidentified cymek ship arrived in the Tegeusan system, broadcasting that it carried an undefiled update directly from the Corrin-Omnius, the thinking machines welcomed the messenger. Defensive perimeters opened, allowing the cymek to penetrate the outer periphery and proceed with all due haste to the central nexus in Comati at the base of the mountains.
Hecate had never thought her infiltration would be so simple and straightforward. Hadn’t the cymeks taught the machines anything?
For this venture the rebellious Titan had shed her mobile asteroid body, taking the appearance of a more traditional, though somewhat antique, cymek lander. She guided her stabilizing systems via thoughtrodes that connected her disembodied brain to spacecraft functions.
The clouds above her were thick, murky rafts of gray moisture that blocked out the faint heat of Bela Tegeuse’s sun, locking the weather cycle into an unbreakable pattern of rain and gloom. The robotic systems did not care about weather, and the sickly, pale-skinned human slaves knew no other life.
Hecate wondered what the poor human slaves would do once they were freed. Iblis Ginjo had tasked her with this aggressive, righteous action, and Hecate now rose to the challenge, eager to show what she could accomplish. She felt it would be quite interesting.
From her constant, quiet snooping, the turncoat Titan knew that at the very beginning of their renewed struggle the Army of the Jihad had attempted to wrest Bela Tegeuse free from machine domination. Their fleet had attacked the Omnius stronghold and damaged the machine infrastructure there, but had suffered so many losses that they were forced to withdraw without a clear-cut victory. Relentlessly scrounging resources and working nonstop, the remaining machines had rebuilt and reasserted their complete control over the planet in less than a year, like an inexorable tide erasing footprints on a beach.
This time, Hecate hoped, the humans would learn their lesson and act more decisively. Thanks to her, they would get a second chance. If they were paying attention. She had left a message for Iblis Ginjo via a drop point that Yorek Thurr was supposed to be monitoring. It was up to them to be ready to respond.
As she landed at well-lit Comati Spaceport under a cold drizzle, robotic machines marched forward, transmitting queries and identification demands. “The remains of our Omnius cannot access the watcheyes aboard your craft,” said one administrative robot who seemed to be in charge of the facility. To Hecate it seemed like a foolish comment, especially for A
I-security units. She smiled to herself. Machines could be so blind and naïve at times.
Gathered around the fences, captive humans huddled in wet clothes. Through bleak, squinting eyes, they observed the arrival of the ship warily, as if the new Omnius update might steal away their remaining hopes.
Hecate opened the hatch and strode out wearing her ornate dragon-walker. “Your attendant watcheye mechanisms must be malfunctioning,” she said to the waiting robots. “The Corrin-Omnius was forced to shut down many peripheral systems to prevent continued infection by insidious programming errors.”
The robots accepted her explanation. “What is your designation? We are not familiar with your model of neo-cymek.”
“Oh, I am the newest of the new.” A prideful tone, as if she were superior to older models. She plodded forward carrying the heavy cylindrical package in her jointed forelimbs. Her diamond scales flashed with reflected light from the spaceport’s yellow glowpanels. “After so many terrible breakdowns, Omnius ordered the creation of many new cymeks from loyal trustees. Unlike gelcircuitry computer minds, human brains cannot succumb to this spreading virus. Neos such as myself have been sent out to deliver shielded updates protected by programming designed to override the virus. Surely you see the advantages?”
A trio of spaceport robots stepped forward to accept the heavy canister. To Hecate they seemed almost eager, anxious to be relieved of their strange problems. As expected, they were not devious or suspicious enough for their own good.
“I promise you,” she said, “this will remove all of your concerns.”
Though she had been disgusted with Ajax’s bloodshed long ago, Hecate convinced herself that murdering thinking machines— obliterating Omnius, in particular— was different… and far more admirable. The humans would be stunned and delighted!
“Are there special instructions for installing this update?” the robot asked.
Dune: The Machine Crusade Page 48
