Dune: The Butlerian Jihad (77 page)

Norma felt the weight of responsibility, knowing the League Armada had sent out the call to arms for a concerted armaggeddon strike on Earth. A massive unified force of diverse warships was already gathering at Salusa Secundus in preparation for launch.

Holtzman basked in his sudden inflated importance. To Norma, it seemed that the laboratory work should speak for itself, without all of the promotional frivolity. But she could never hope to understand the political circles in which he traveled, and she wanted to believe that he was doing his best for the war effort through contacts with important people.

In the meantime, her mind thought of many tangential things, in detail, and she followed the internal paths of inquiry, seeking answers. Even obliterating the evermind on Earth would still leave complete copies of Omnius elsewhere in the Synchronized Worlds. Could thinking machines suffer such a thing as a psychological blow? On the scale of the Synchronized Worlds, a single planet did not seem a substantial enough target, and her concern made it difficult to focus on the calculations. Like sparks of heat lightning jumping from cloud to cloud, her thoughts skittered to new possibilities, fresh ideas.

Under the martial law Lord Bludd had imposed after Bel Moulay’s slave uprising, Norma had felt increasingly isolated from her mentor. Two years ago, when she’d first received the summons to come to Poritrin, Tio Holtzman had been her role model and champion. Only gradually had she come to realize that, rather than simply appreciating her talent and employing it as a means of furthering their mutual goals, the scientist had become resentful of her.

Part of it was Norma’s own fault. Her insistent warnings about both the abortive alloy-resonance generator and the lasgun-shield test had turned him against her. But it didn’t seem fair for the Savant to dislike her just because she had been
correct
. Tio Holtzman seemed to place his own embarrassment above the furtherance of science.

She scratched her clumpy mouse-brown hair. What place did
ego
have in their work? In almost a year, none of his new concepts had amounted to anything.

By contrast, a certain project had been brewing in Norma’s thoughts for a long time. In her mind’s eye she saw the parts coming together, a grand design that would shake the foundations of the universe, theories and equations she could barely grasp. It would demand all of her energy and attention, and the potential benefits would rock the League even more than the development of personal shields.

Now Norma set aside the projected ballista diagram and stepped out of it, after using a holomarker to designate the point at which she had stopped her calculations. With her concentration freed, she could devote her efforts to matters of true importance. Her new idea excited her far more than shield calculations.

Inspiration, ever mysterious, had directed her toward a revolutionary possibility. She could almost see it working on an immense, staggering scale. A chill ran down her spine.

Although she could not quite solve the problems associated with her concept, she felt in her bones that Holtzman’s field-equation breakthrough might be employed for something much more significant. While the scientist rested on his laurels and reveled in his success, Norma wanted to go in a new direction.

Having seen how the Holtzman Effect warped space in order to create a shield, she was convinced that the fabric of space itself could be
folded
, creating a shortcut across the universe. If such a feat could be accomplished, it might be possible to travel across vast distances in the wink of an eye, connecting two discrete points without regard to the separation between them.

Folding space
.

But she could never develop such a stupendous concept with Tio Holtzman restraining her at every turn. Norma Cenva would have to work in secret. . . .

I
n a thousand years, humanity had never assembled such a powerful, concentrated military force. From their separate space navies, each League World dispatched ships large and small: lumbering battleships, midsized cruisers, destroyers, escort ships, hundreds of large and small shuttles, thousands of kindjals and patrol craft. Many of them were armed with atomics . . . enough to sterilize Earth three times over.

Segundo Xavier Harkonnen was given command of the operation that had been his brainchild. Swelling with vessels and weapons and countless commanders from planetary defense systems, militias, and home guards, the unified Armada gathered at the orbital launch point above Salusa Secundus over the next three months. Prep crews emblazoned each vessel’s hull with the open-hand sigil of the League of Nobles.

Munitions factories on Vertree Colony, Komider, and Giedi Prime had worked beyond peak-production levels without rest, and the aggressive schedule would continue during the long voyage of the expanded Armada, since the fleet would likely suffer devastating losses against the Earth-Omnius. Replacements would always be needed— always, until the war was done.

Before the departure of the unified Armada, all remaining planetary forces throughout the League Worlds were placed on high alert. Even if the culminating atomic strike succeeded in smashing the thinking machines on Earth, other incarnations of the computer evermind would likely retaliate.

Annihilating the Earth-Omnius would be a much-needed victory for mankind, signaling a new turn in the war. Long ago, free humanity had stockpiled atomic warheads to threaten the thinking machines, but Omnius and his cymek generals had called the League’s bluff. On Giedi Prime and elsewhere, humans had shown themselves unwilling to unleash the doomsday devices, thus rendering the threat impotent.

That was about to change.

Now the vengeful Armada would prove that humans had relinquished all restraint. Nuclear airbursts would generate electromagnetic pulses to obliterate the thinking machines’ exotic gelcircuitry. Henceforth, every Omnius would fear a wave of atomic holocausts on the rest of the Synchronized Worlds.

Radioactive fallout, a demon from the nightmares of human civilization, would continue to damage the planet long after the battle was over. But that would fade with time, and eventually Earth would recover and return to life— without thinking machines.

AT MAXIMUM SUSTAINABLE speed, the unified Armada’s journey took over a month. Xavier wished there were some way to make the voyage faster. Even while outrunning photons in space, traversing great distances between star systems required time, too much of it.

As the task force approached Earth’s solar system, Segundo Harkonnen shuttled from one battleship to another, reviewing the troops and equipment for the upcoming engagement. From the bridge of each vessel he spoke to groups of soldiers, inspiring them, instructing them.

The waiting was almost over.

By now, just under half of the Armada ships had been equipped with Holtzman’s shield generators, and the atomics had been dispersed among both shielded and unshielded vessels. Xavier had considered waiting for more, but finally decided that further delay would cause greater harm than the installation of extra mechanisms could justify. Besides, some conservative nobles from individual planetary fleets had expressed skepticism about the unproven new technology. While those lords used planetary scrambler shields to cover their major cities and moons, they preferred to use reliable, proven technology in their warships. They knew the risks and accepted them.

Xavier focused on maintaining his own determination through the end of the horrific battle. After the attack on Earth, controversy would always be associated with his name, but he would not allow it to deter him. Achieving victory required him to utterly destroy the birthplace of the human race.

With such a terrible feather in his cap, how could history not curse the name of Xavier Harkonnen? Even if the machines were destroyed, no human would ever want to live on Earth again.

ON THE DAY before the powerful Armada reached Earth, Xavier summoned Vorian Atreides to the bridge of the ballista flagship. Xavier did not entirely trust the former Omnius collaborator, but kept his personal feelings separate from the needs of humanity.

Vor
had
made a compelling case that his firsthand technical knowledge of Earth-Omnius’s capabilities made him a valuable asset. “No one else knows as much about the robotic forces. Even Iblis Ginjo doesn’t have the background I do, since he was just a construction crew boss. Besides, he prefers to remain on Salusa.”

Despite the blessing Vorian had received from the Sorceresses of Rossak and their proven ability to expose lies, Xavier could not help distrusting the son of Agamemnon for spending his life serving the machines. Was he a clever infiltrator sent by Omnius, or could Vor truly provide intelligence that would allow the Armada to exploit vulnerabilities on the Synchronized Worlds?

Vorian had been thoroughly interrogated— even examined by doctors familiar with implanted espionage devices— and everyone had proclaimed him clean. But Xavier wondered if the machines had somehow anticipated all those precautions and cleverly concealed something in his brain, a tiny, potent device with machine components that could be triggered at a critical point and cause him to take some devastating action against the League of Nobles?

Serena had said that all humans must be freed from the oppression of thinking machines. She wanted Xavier to start with this one man, by giving him a chance. In her heart, she wanted to believe that any person, once exposed to the concepts of freedom and individuality, would reject the robotic slavemasters and choose independence. And when Serena asked it of him, Xavier could not refuse her.

“All right, Vorian Atreides,” he had said. “I will grant you the opportunity to prove your worth— but under strict controls. You will be confined to certain areas, and watched at all times.”

Vor had given him a wry smile. “I am used to being watched.”

Now the two men stood together on the flagship bridge. Xavier paced the deck, hands clasped behind him and shoulders squared. He looked across empty space toward the bright yellow home star, which grew larger every hour.

Vor remained silent, keeping his thoughts to himself and considering the star-studded blackness. “I never thought I would return so soon. Especially not like this.”

“Are you afraid your father will be there?” Xavier asked.

The dark-haired young man stepped closer to the broad window, staring at the growing blue target planet. “If no humans survive on Earth, the Titans have little reason to stay. They have probably been sent to other Synchronized Worlds by now.” He pursed his lips. “I hope the Earth-Omnius has not maintained a large neo-cymek force.”

“Why? Our firepower could destroy them just as easily.”

Vor gave him a wry glance. “Because, Segundo Harkonnen, thinking machines and robotic ships are
predictable
, set in their ways. We know how they will respond. Cymeks, on the other hand, are volatile and innovative. Machines with human minds. Who knows what
they
might do?”

“Just like humans,” Xavier said.

“Yes, but with the ability to cause much more destruction.”

With a grim smile, the Segundo turned to look at his turncoat companion. “Not for long, Vorian.” They were men of the same age, and haunted beyond their years. “After today, nothing in the universe will match
our
ability to cause destruction.”

THE ARMADA BATTLE group converged on Earth like a gathering storm. Pilots ran across the interior decks to their individual ships, preparing to launch. Battleships and destroyers spat out swarms of kindjals, bombers, and scout ships. Patrol craft and point ships flew fast reconnaissance, verifying and updating the data provided by Vor Atreides.

The birthplace of humanity was a verdant sphere mottled with fleecy white clouds. Xavier Harkonnen gazed at the remarkable world. Even infested with the scourge of machines, it looked pristine, fragile, and vulnerable.

Soon, though, Earth would be nothing more than a blackened, lifeless ball. In spite of all he had said to convince skeptics and detractors, Xavier wondered how he could ever consider such a victory acceptable.

He drew a deep breath, not taking his eyes from the planet, which shimmered through a thin veil of his tears. He had a duty to do.

Xavier transmitted his order to the fleet. “Proceed with full-scale atomic bombardment.”

O
n Earth, Omnius’s perimeter sensors detected the invading force. The evermind was astonished at the unpredictable audacity of the feral humans, as well as the sheer number and firepower of the combined vessels. For centuries, the
hrethgir
had hidden behind defensive barriers, afraid to venture into machine-controlled space. Why had no computer projection or scenario anticipated this bold assault on the Synchronized Worlds?

Via screens and contact terminals dispersed around the city grid, Omnius spoke to robots that were at work repairing damage from the recent abortive slave rebellion. He would have liked to discuss strategy with Erasmus— who, despite his myriad flaws, seemed to have some understanding of human irrationality. But the frustratingly contrary robot was out of touch, fled to distant Corrin.

Even his remaining Titans, who could occasionally explain human reactions, had been sent away to less-stable worlds, preventing the spread of the revolt. Thus, the evermind felt isolated and off-balance.

Reviewing scanner readings, Omnius determined that the human vessels must be loaded with nuclear warheads. Again, entirely unexpected! He calculated and recalculated, and all the scenarios turned out badly for him. He felt the initial glimmerings of what humans might have called “shocked disbelief.”