For all the years of this Jihad, we have known we must be prepared for any attack. In the end, though, preparations are not sufficient. We must be willing to act.
— SUPREME COMMANDER VORIAN ATREIDES,
address to Jihad Council
Though the death of Leronica left him with a dark vacuum inside as empty as the sparsest reaches of open space, Vor did not have time to grieve. He only had time to be the Supreme Commander.
And save the human race.
The Army of the Jihad was already engaged in a massive emergency effort. Space-folding spycraft, mostly flown by Martyrist volunteers, secretly darted back and forth from Corrin, bearing regular reports on the progress of the giant fleet Omnius had amassed. The moment the robotic horde left the red giant system, the League humans would know that the countdown had begun.
Other spacefolder scouts flitted from world to world, bearing the news and calling the survivors of humanity to action; dozens of them vanished without a trace, but enough redundant messengers raced about to maintain the lines of communication. Never before had the planets of the League of Nobles been so closely up-to-date.
On returning from plague-ravaged Parmentier, Vor and Abulurd had brought young Rayna to Zimia. Faykan, her uncle, had quickly taken the girl under his wing. He had been very close to his brother Rikov, and he treated the survival of the young girl as a miracle. Though all of her hair had fallen out, at least she had survived the virus. In moments of cynicism, Vor thought that Faykan seemed primarily interested in using the young girl as a political tool for his own purposes, a symbol to show that humans could indeed survive the plagues Omnius had sent.
Perhaps it will help.
While the pieces of the Great Purge were brought together, the giant fleet assembled, the tactical plan mapped out on the star charts showing the coordinates of every Synchronized World, the Supreme Commander put Faykan and Abulurd in charge of the impossible task of evacuating Salusa Secundus. He made sure his twin sons and their families were among the first to be taken away to safety. Then, knowing the rest of the effort was in capable hands, Vor concentrated on the primary goal.
Far off, the Kolhar shipyards worked night and day to refit League ballistas and javelins with the new engines. Norma Cenva, never losing her faith in the space-folding engines, had insisted for years that many of the capital ships be equipped with the capability, whether or not it was ever used. Now Vor applauded her foresight.
All stockpiles of pulse-atomics were gathered and loaded aboard the existing Jihad spacecraft, while new nuclear warheads were being manufactured frantically on all League industrial planets.
We should have planned better. We should have anticipated the need. We should have been ready!
The first dozen spacefolder battleships, those already equipped with the quirky Holtzman engines, were loaded with pulse-atomics and crews of volunteers to fly the necessary squads of bomber kindjals. They were the vanguard, sent off immediately to begin the systematic extermination of all evermind incarnations.
Finally, three weeks and three days after Quentin and Faykan had first returned from Corrin to sound the alarm, the Martyrist pilot of a space-folding scout returned to Zimia. He was so frantic he nearly crashed his ship while attempting to land. Two spacefolders had raced back with the news, and only one had survived.
“The machines are moving! Omnius has launched the extermination fleet.”
Hearing the report, Vor blocked out the cries of dismay from the other Jihad officers in his headquarters. He simply nodded and looked at a calendar, marking how long they had left.