Dune: The Butlerian Jihad (70 page)

“A shrine? Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself, Iblis?” Vor said, wrestling with his impatience. “The revolt is not yet won.”

Serena picked up the boy; he was very light. “If we are going back to Salusa Secundus, I must take him with me. His fathe r . . . deserves to see him at least once.”

Before Vor could object, Iblis spoke up. “
Everyone
must see! This can help us rally the League. You must convince them to offer assistance to the slaves on Earth, before it is too late. If we don’t, there will be many more victims.”

Seeing how much it meant to Serena, Vor squared his shoulders and did not object. “If we don’t go quickly, it will be too late for all of us.”

Still holding Manion’s preserved form, Serena straightened. “I’m ready now. Let’s go find the
Dream Voyager
.”

V
or, Serena, and the unwelcome Iblis found and commandeered a passenger shuttle at a landing port on Erasmus’s estate. They carried no supplies or possessions with them, except for the preserved body of little Manion. As the rebellious slaves continued to ransack the villa, Vor and his companions flew away from the hubbub. They saw no rallying robot sentries or marauding neo-cymeks. And no Titans at all. None showed themselves.

The small craft skimmed smoothly overland, keeping to the fringe of the city grid and away from the worst of the disturbance. In the days of the Old Empire, this hillside had been an exclusive neighborhood of terraced homes and gardens. The residences had been abandoned after the thinking machine conquest, falling into ruin. Only durable stone and alloy frameworks remained.

Agamemnon’s memoirs had scorned the mundane lives of people in the Old Empire, but now Vorian needed to question everything. Sadness crept over him, and a renewed feeling of shame. Thanks to Serena, he noticed things for the first time, experiencing disturbing thoughts. It was as if a new universe had opened up for him, and he was leaving the old one behind.

How had the machines concealed so much from him? Or had Vor done it to himself, blinded to the obvious? Extensive historical records had always been available on the
Dream Voyager
, but he had never bothered to look. He had taken his father’s accounts at face value.

When he told Serena what he had discovered, a bitter smile curled the edges of her mouth. “Maybe there’s hope for you after all, Vorian Atreides. You have a lot of catching up to do— as a human being.”

The white buildings of the spaceport came into view, machine military bunkers, sensors, and heavy guns. Vor transmitted the familiar access codes he had always used on the
Dream Voyager
, and the robot sentries allowed the passage of the small, fast vessel.

As rapidly as possible, Vor brought the shuttle into a drydock hangar and shut down all systems. Just ahead, amid cargo wharves, gantries, and refueling cisterns, a variety of spaceships were berthed. Machine crews worked the long-distance craft, preparing them for departure.

The silver-and-black
Dream Voyager
was among them, as Vor had hoped.

“Hurry,” he said, taking Serena by the hand. Iblis ran close behind, wielding another large pistol he had retrieved— little enough protection if the robot soldiers decided to mount an attack.

Vor keytouched the access code on a panel and slipped through the
Dream Voyager
‘s entry hatch. “Wait for me. If this works, I’ll be back before long.” He needed to take care of Seurat himself.

Inside, Vor heard the noise of maintenance drones installing a backup fuel cell. When he reached the command bridge, he didn’t bother to hide his footsteps. Seurat would detect him anyway.

“Did you damage your ship, Old Metalmind?” Vor asked. “Couldn’t fly without me?”

“Rebels fired at my vessel when I delivered combat robots for tactical redeployment. One engine suffered minimal harm. Superficial damage to our hull.”

The robot captain moved his resilient, fibrous body to adjust parameters on open systems. His optic threads focused on a viewer that enabled him to monitor the last-minute work belowdecks.

Finally he said, “I can use your assistance, Vorian Atreides. One of the drones appears to be malfunctioning. All the good ones are doing emergency repairs on combat robots.”

Vor knew he must move quickly. “Let me take a look.”

“I notice you have changed your wardrobe,” Seurat said. “With rebellious slaves running through the streets, was your Omnius uniform no longer the height of fashion?”

Vor couldn’t help but chuckle, despite the tension. “Humans
are
better at fashion than machines.” He stepped close to his mechanical friend, and his gaze fixed on the tiny access shunt on a protected underpanel of the robot’s body. Although it was covered with flowmetal and protected by interlinked fibers, Vor knew it would be simple enough to jam the energy driver access, short-circuit the power converter, and effectively stun the robot captain.

He fumbled in one of his pockets, as if looking for something, and brought out a utility tool. “I’ll run a diagnostic on that maintenance drone.” Feigning clumsiness, he fumbled, bent over— and with a quick upward movement, jammed the tool into the access shunt on the side of Seurat’s body. A pulse from the probe blew out the robot’s energy driver.

The mechanical captain jerked, then stopped altogether. Though he knew that he hadn’t damaged Seurat irreparably, Vor felt a jolt of personal guilt and pain. “Sorry about that, old Metalmind.” He heard noises behind him and, whirling, saw Iblis and Serena step onto the bridge. “I told you to wait for me.”

Iblis strode forward, his confidence restored, as if he were in command again. “Finish the job. Destroy the thinking machine.” He approached the motionless captain, hefting a heavy tool.

“No.” Angrily, Vor interposed himself between the crew boss and the prone robot. “I said
no
. Not Seurat. If you want me to fly us out of here, help me get him off the ship. He won’t cause any more trouble for anyone.”

“Stop wasting time, both of you,” Serena said.

Reluctantly, Iblis assisted Vor in hauling the bulky robot to a side hatch, which opened onto an unoccupied dock beside a fuel-pellet dispenser. They left the captain alone among debris and equipment.

Vor stared for a moment at his own reflection in the familiar mirrored face, remembering some of the stupid jokes his friend had told and the innovative military games they had played together. Seurat had never harmed him in any way.

But Vorian Atreides, reborn, would rather be with Serena Butler among the free humans, no matter what he was forced to leave behind.

“Someday I will return,” he whispered, “but I cannot know the circumstances, old Metalmind.”

AS VOR PILOTED the update ship away from Earth, Iblis gazed out a porthole at the planet, watching it grow smaller with distance. He considered the worldwide revolt he had sparked, hoped Aquim would do well, and that the rebellion would succeed. Maybe with the wisdom of the Cogitor Eklo, the monk could bring order to the madness and make an effective stand against Omnius.

But Iblis didn’t think so. The machines were too powerful, the Synchronized Worlds too numerous. Despite all of his work, he suspected this initial revolt was doomed to failure, unless he could get the League of Nobles to help immediately.

F
lames curled up from the glorious, empty buildings— an affront to the golden age of the Titans. Human riffraff, delirious with their mad liberation, ran screaming through the streets, throwing broken rocks and makeshift explosives.

Agamemnon seethed at the horrendous damage the rebels had already inflicted upon the monuments and magnificent plazas. The rebels had even killed Ajax, though the callous Titan had probably invited retribution upon himself. Yet another serious loss, like Barbarossa.

Vermin! The barbarians didn’t understand freedom or free will; they had no sense of civilization or restraint, and deserved to be nothing more than slaves. Even that might be too much of a kindness.

The cymek general strode through the streets in his hulking warrior-form. He scattered humans, flung them into the air, splattered them against walls. Some of the bravest hurled sharp objects at him, which bounced off of his armored body. Unfortunately, he couldn’t spare the time to squash them all.

Instead, Agamemnon made his way toward the nearby spaceport, hoping to find his son among all this chaos. If the violent rebels had harmed Vorian— the best of the general’s thirteen sons so far— then he would cause some real mayhem. He had checked records, learned that the
Dream Voyager
had docked at the spaceport and that Vor’s access codes had been used, but the reports were confusing.

The Titan still couldn’t comprehend the scale of the conflagration around him. For centuries, the rule of thinking machines had gone unchallenged. How could the docile humans have become so explosive? No matter. He would let Omnius and his robot guards take care of the unpleasantness.

For now, Agamemnon would find his own son. He had his priorities. He hoped Vor hadn’t made a mess of things.

When the cymek rushed across the spaceport, he saw three cargo ships ablaze, their fuel cells and drive compartments blown up by saboteurs. Fire-suppressant machinery attempted to extinguish the flames before more damage could be done.

The furious Titan stalked across the fused pavement, searching for the drydock that had held the repaired
Dream Voyager
. He was dismayed to find the update ship gone, the landing grid still glowing in the infrared from exhaust flames. Using thermal thoughtrode sensors, he saw the dissipating contrail where the vessel had torn a path through the atmosphere.

With mounting frustration and surprise, he found the deactivated Seurat on a dock outside the cordoned-off danger radius around the blast jets. The robot lay immobile, a supine statue of metallic polymers and neurelectric circuitry. The rebels had attacked Seurat, shut him down . . . but had not destroyed him.

Impatient, concerned about Vorian, Agamemnon rebooted the robotic systems with a flurry of his manipulator arms. When Seurat snapped back to consciousness, he scanned the spaceport with his array of optic threads, orienting himself.

“Where is the
Dream Voyager
?” Agamemnon demanded. “Where is my son? Is he alive?”

“In his typical impetuous fashion, your son surprised me. He deactivated me.” Seurat scanned the launch zone and instantly drew conclusions. “Vorian must have taken the ship. He knows how to fly it.”

“Is he a coward?
My
son?”

“No, Agamemnon. I believe he has joined the rebels and is escaping with other humans.” He saw the cymek shuddering with angry betrayal. “It is a very poor joke,” Seurat added.

Infuriated, Agamemnon swiveled the axis of his body core and marched away. An empty warship lay docked nearby, loaded with weaponry and perfect for pursuit. Already, wild humans were racing toward the craft, eager to commandeer it for themselves— as if any of the ignorant
hrethgir
could fly such a sophisticated vessel.

Raising his cannon arms, the cymek let loose with integral flamers, igniting the human criminals into flailing candles of burning flesh. Moments later he trod past the blackened corpses and linked up to the automated ship. At Agamemnon’s transmitted command, the warship’s grappling arms extended forward, swiveling outward to disengage his preservation canister and jettison the warrior-form. The ship’s systems raised the cymek’s canister and installed Agamemnon’s brain within the control nest.

The sleek craft was fast, its weapons loaded and ready for battle. Vorian might have a headstart, but the
Dream Voyager
was a slower vessel, designed for long hauls. Agamemnon should be able to close the distance.

Inside his warm electrafluid, his brain adjusted to the ship’s sensors, linking the thoughtrodes until he felt the spacecraft become his new body. Springing into the air on imaginary legs, Agamemnon launched away from the spaceport.

Hyperaccelerating, he gained on his quarry.

VOR ATREIDES KNEW the tactics of space combat and evasive maneuvers, for Seurat had allowed him to take the update ship’s controls many times. But as he left the boiling rebellion on Earth, he flew the
Dream Voyager
all alone for the first time, leaving Seurat, his long-time companion, behind.

He departed from Earth on a straight-line vector that would take them out of the solar system. He hoped that the update ship’s supplies and life-support systems would be sufficient to keep him and his passengers alive for the month it would take to reach Salusa Secundus. During the frantic escape, he had never thought to consider how many humans the
Dream Voyager
could sustain, but now he had no choice.

Nervously, Iblis Ginjo peered through the ports, studying the vastness of space. He had never seen such sights before. He gaped at the pockmarked immensity of the Moon as they shot past it and continued outward.

“When we get close enough to Salusa,” Serena said confidently, strapped into her own seat, “the League of Nobles will protect us. Xavier will come for me. He . . . he always has before.”

The
Dream Voyager
crossed the orbit of Mars, then threaded a gap in the asteroid belt. Vor continued to build speed as they headed directly toward Jupiter’s huge gravity well. He would use the gas giant’s gravity to adjust their course, picking up angular momentum in an outbound slingshot.

In the rear sensors, Vor saw a lone warship hurtling toward them at a velocity so high that the readings were blueshifted, giving an altered indication of its position. No human could survive such acceleration.