I do not fear death. I fear only failure.
— SERENA BUTLER,
Priestess of the Jihad
Vor had a plan, or at least the pieces of one. He laced his fingers together, his thoughts racing. He considered all of the resources that remained to him.
Abulurd might have cut off the weapons systems built into the Vengeance Fleet’s capital ships, but the launching bays of those ballistas and javelins were still filled with kindjal bombers, all of them loaded with pulse-atomics. Originally, he had intended to use the fleet’s weaponry to blast through the robotic barricade, and then saturate Corrin with nuclear detonations. Now, he would be forced to use some of his atomics against the barricade itself, thanks to the bashar’s treachery. He hoped he could save enough warheads to accomplish his mission against Omnius, by using precision strikes from his Ginaz mercenaries.
Also, he figured that even without their on-board weapons systems, his shielded vessels would make decent battering rams. All he had to do was get enough of his battleships through the robotic barrier.
In his mind, Vor had already chosen to pay the price of the innocent hostages on the Bridge of Hrethgir.
With a horrified collective gasp from the crew, the LS Serena Victory arrived at the boundary in space. Vor kept his eyes fixed on the screen, his own guilt and determination forcing him to watch the last moments of the millions of hostages he had just doomed. They crossed the line.
But there was no detonation, no flash of light, no destruction of two million victims.
The Bridge of Hrethgir remained intact.
Vor could not believe it. “The damned robot was bluffing after all!”
“The people are safe!” his navigator cried.
“Saint Serena has provided another miracle!” Rayna Butler’s voice came over the comline. “And she will lead us to final victory over the demon machines. Champion Atreides, push forward to the destruction of Omnius!”
Vor growled, “Shut down her signal! I give the orders on this mission.”
They still had no operational weapons, thanks to Abulurd’s treachery. Vor could not think of anything worse than betrayal— especially not from such a beloved comrade, a young man he had taken under his wing. It would have been kinder if Abulurd had simply stabbed Vor in the heart.
I will never again think of him as a surrogate son, or even a friend.
The Supreme Bashar swore he would succeed in spite of what Abulurd had done.
“Let us not waste this opportunity.” He studied a scanner board, listing the offensive specifications of the nearest thinking machine vessels, including operational data. Then he whirled. “Get me Bashar Harkonnen! The threat of the Bridge is now moot— even he can’t refuse to reactivate the firing codes!”
Seconds passed, and Vor raised his voice into the comline. “Where is Abulurd! I need— “
“I’m sorry, Supreme Bashar, but the coward is… in the infirmary.” The guard’s voice on the comline sounded subdued. “On the way to his quarters, he… resisted slightly. He is not expected to regain consciousness soon.”
Vor cursed, knowing he should have anticipated this. He turned to his tactical officer. “Get me any on-board weapons you can— missiles, artillery. Especially scrambler mines.”
The ships continued to soar unaffected through the net of satellites and into a space brawl with the cornered forces of Omnius.
He began to receive reports from his fleet that some weapons systems had been brought back online, though without the accuracy of the complex targeting algorithms Abulurd had disabled. Gunnery officers and Cultist volunteers disconnected and remounted some of the launchers so they could now aim and fire the weapons manually.
The first line of Omnius’s ships moved forward to face them. Vor studied the defensive parameters of his opponents, saw more reinforcement vessels rising into higher orbit to join the fray. At the moment, even with its limited systems, the Vengeance Fleet had this first line of machine warships outgunned. And they were shielded.
“We can take them out preemptively, Supreme Bashar,” reported his new second officer. “If we can shoot straight.”
“Let’s do it.” Vor stared at the impenetrable blockade, then shouted into the comline, “To the Cult of Serena, to the jihadis, the mercenaries, and every other person fighting beside me in this great battle, I remind you what this Holy War is all about. It’s about avenging the deaths of our beloved Serena, of Manion the Innocent, and of billions of other martyrs. It’s about stopping the enemy in their tracks. It’s about taking the ‘think’ out of thinking machines!”
Oddly, one of the first machine vessels to approach the flagship was not a battle unit at all, but an old update ship. Instead of opening fire, the vessel signaled him. “So, Vorian Atreides. This is more complex than the strategy games we used to play.” On the comscreen, coppery-faced Seurat looked at him, his robotic visage fixed and expressionless, as always. “Are you going to destroy me? I will be your first casualty for this attack.”
“Old Metalmind! I didn’t even know you were still— “
The achingly familiar image of Seurat filled the screen; Vor expected him to break into an inept attempt at humor, or to remind the commander of how many times he had saved the human’s life. “We were not always on opposite sides of this conflict, Vorian Atreides. I have made up a new joke about you: How many times is a human allowed to change his mind?”
Vor had steeled himself to accept the massacre of more than two million human shields, but now, ironically, he hesitated upon seeing this robot, his former companion. Of all the family and close friends he had lost in his long life span— Serena, Xavier, Leronica, even Agamemnon— only Seurat remained.
“What are you doing, Seurat? Stand down.”
“You aren’t even going to try to guess the punch line?”
Vor crossed his arms over his chest. “How can you be sure I ever changed my mind, instead of just hiding my true feelings from you?”
The update ship kept coming closer. “Why don’t you let me aboard, and we can talk about old times? Am I not an acceptable emissary to discuss a resolution to this matter?”
Vor froze, fighting down his initial impulse. Wasn’t that exactly what Abulurd had wanted? He couldn’t possibly negotiate with the thinking machines. But Seurat…
His second officer said in a low voice, “Sir, our weapons are still not at full capacity. Perhaps if we stall?”
“Old Metalmind, is this a trick?”
“You taught me about tricks, Vorian Atreides. What do you think?”
Vor paced the bridge. Seurat’s vessel continued forward without pause. If it gave them a chance to get more of their weapons active again, wasn’t it worth the risk? “Drop shields,” Vor said. “Seurat, you may proceed. But you had better be prepared to offer Omnius’s complete surrender.”
Seurat’s coppery face remained the same. “Now you are telling a joke, Vorian Atreides.” The robot ship accelerated toward the flagship.
“Supreme Bashar, his gunports are active!”
Without warning, Seurat’s update ship opened fire, the blast ripping across the hull and tearing out the partially reactivated starboard weapons banks. With no shields to diminish the impacts, the explosions tore through the hull of the LS Serena Victory in two separate places. Atmosphere vented like rocket exhaust, sending the flagship ballista careening off course. The command deck rocked, alarms sounded. In unison now, the first line of robot ships launched their attacks.
“Activate shields again! Give us full protection!”
Amid the chaos, the robot captain transmitted a simulated laugh. “I am reminded of a phrase you taught me, Vorian Atreides: I caught you with your pants down. You have grown soft and slow after all those years living among the hrethgir.”
“Open fire!” Vor choked, cursing himself for his paralysis and lack of resolve. I don’t care if he is Seurat…. “Get us back under control.”
He closed his eyes as several of the manually operated weapons blasted. The flagship turned about to give the gunners a better shot, and the soldiers fired their makeshift artillery. The wave of targeted projectiles quickly overwhelmed the update ship.
With no time for sadness or indecision, angry at himself for his foolish, inappropriate sentimentality, Vor readied himself for the continuing bloodbath. The second line of robotic defenders came into range.