Thinking machines are not capable of comprehending the concepts of evil, ethics, or love. They see things only in terms of their own survival. Nothing else matters to them.
— SERENA BUTLER,
Priestess of the Jihad
For two decades, the standoff had remained complete. Omnius couldn’t escape, and the Army of Humanity could not get closer. Wall after wall of machine forces formed a protective shell around Corrin just inside the impenetrable Holtzman scrambler net, while the watchdog fleet maintained their airtight perimeter with heavily armed battleships.
At Corrin, robot ships circling the inner fringe of the scrambler web deployed long-distance scanners to monitor the outskirts of the system. The two surviving evermind incarnations had ordered increased surveillance because, even after twenty years, SeurOm had calculated the possibility that another Omnius might have survived and could come to rescue them. Like a densely packed school of sharks, circling and circling, the machine battleships cruised along in overlapping concentric orbits.
The sides exchanged potshots, launched explosive projectiles into the opposing force’s cruising ships. The League guardians responded quickly, with the precision of frequently orchestrated drills. One hrethgir javelin was severely damaged; two robot warships were destroyed. Then the watchdog fleet tightened their own positions, increasing the frequency of practice maneuvers, releasing more scouts. They were waiting for something.
Then, with the League’s final and unexpected gambit, everything changed.
From inside the perimeter, thinking machines spotted the sudden arrival of a huge new force of ballistas and javelins. In a single maneuver, the humans had tripled the size of the force already stationed there.
Machine scouts, held at bay by the intricate satellite cage designed to destroy gelcircuitry minds, transmitted their data back to the central complex on Corrin. The numbers were alarming and indisputable. The humans intended to change the equilibrium of the situation.
After statistical analysis, the pair of surviving everminds concluded that they were faced with enough firepower to pose a serious threat to their existence. The probability of destruction was high.
Erasmus stood out in the plaza with his dutiful Gilbertus Albans, quietly listening as the two everminds discussed their options in the suddenly changed scenario. Since deposing Omnius Prime, the two divergent copies of the evermind had rarely sought the advice of the independent robot, but now they realized the severity of their situation.
“This is a very difficult predicament, my Mentat,” Erasmus said quietly.
Gilbertus looked anxious. “I should be with Serena, then. She is still back at the villa.”
Erasmus looked at him. “You should be with me, developing a solution to the crisis. The flawed Serena Butler clone is not likely to offer any valuable ideas.” They both listened to the rapid-fire dialog between the paired everminds.
Unlike the fallen Corrin-Omnius, SeurOm and ThurrOm, mercifully, had no artistic pretensions. One of the most obvious changes the new everminds had instituted concerned the gaudily ornate Central Spire. Stripping away the pretentious decorations and attempts at artwork, they had simply downshaped the entire Spire and tucked it into a giant protected vault beneath the main plaza. On top of the vault, out in the center of the city, stood two rather utilitarian-looking pedestals, each topped by a clear, spherical covering. Here, the two everminds manifested themselves.
Previously, the thoughts of ThurrOm and SeurOm had diverged widely, growing even farther from their deposed comrade. But the arrival of the huge Vengeance Fleet had focused the two everminds on a common problem.
“According to available data, the human warships could overwhelm us now,” SeurOm said. “If their weaponry follows our established models, even our guardian fleet cannot withstand a full-fledged assault from the human battleships— if they are willing to commit all their resources and sacrifice themselves.”
“They are not likely to make such a sacrifice,” ThurrOm countered. “It does not support the data we have compiled over twenty years.”
Erasmus was compelled to speak up. “We are isolated here, and we do not know the impetus behind this change in hrethgir attitudes. I must assume that they are fervently devoted to yet another new incarnation of their religious insanity. Do not expect them to behave according to your accepted principles.”
“Launch more battleships. Increase our defenses.”
“We can create no more gelcircuitry command minds. Our resources are stripped, though our mining robots and mineral scanners are scouring the crust for additional veins of the necessary rare elements. However, we have reached our limits. Corrin is wrung dry. We have already put every available vessel into place. There are no more replacements.”
ThurrOm shot back a response. “Then we must attack first in order to alter the odds. Even without replacement gelcircuitry minds, we have superior weapons.”
“We have attempted that before. Our reinforcements have been depleted over time and we cannot sustain dramatic attrition. Their ships are protected by shields, which gives them a significant ability to withstand our attacks. The scrambler satellites will destroy too many of our ships. The Holtzman web is easily repaired.”
Robot scouts in orbit transmitted detailed estimates of the firepower capabilities of the expanded human fleet. Erasmus accessed the scans and shared summaries with his human ward. More accurate data provided better estimates— and the situation only grew worse.
SeurOm continued. “We must be more concerned with the survival of any Omnius than with our individual preservation. A massive effort on our part will create some gaps in the scrambler net. Several machine ships could get through to escape. Each of these must be loaded with a copy of the evermind. Some simulations suggest this is a possible outcome.”
“An unconvincing argument, based on minimal data,” ThurrOm said. “The majority of simulations produce a different result. More importantly, which of us will become the baseline evermind?” The twin spheres were so agitated that the coded electrical impulses increased in intensity, like lightning bolts, and their electronic vocal sounds boomed across the plaza.
“We can send copies of both.”
“That will do nothing to protect us here on Corrin,” Erasmus said. He had to find a way to save his ward, and himself. Though ensuring the survival of the evermind should have been the priority for any thinking machine, it was not enough for Erasmus. “Humans are unpredictable, Omnius. If you form your strategy based on a straightforward numerical analysis, then you will fail. The enemy will surprise you.”
“Repeated attacks sometimes expose unforeseen flaws. There is a small but nonzero probability we will succeed even against these new human reinforcements. We have no other viable option than to make the attempt.”
Erasmus formed a smiling expression on his flowmetal face. “Yes we do, if one understands how the hrethgir think. We have a weapon that may prove effective against the Army of Humanity— one they will never expect us to use.” He turned his optic threads toward his ward. “One that will infuriate them.”
“Explain, Erasmus,” both everminds demanded in unison.
“In my slave pens and in cities all around Corrin, we have numerous captives and test subjects. According to the latest inventory, the hrethgir population here approaches three million. The League may have placed a large Holtzman shield against us— but we can use human shields. Put them all in harm’s way, guarantee that any action by the Army of Humanity will result in millions of unnecessary deaths. That will make the enemy think twice before they launch their offensive.”
Gilbertus looked at him in alarm, but did not speak out. Using a calming technique out of habit, he distracted himself by focusing on other things, concentrating on practice calculations in his head.
“Such a conclusion is flawed,” SeurOm said. “The humans were willing to obliterate innocent slaves during the Great Purge. Your suggestion makes no sense.”
“Humans themselves often make no sense. The situation is different,” Erasmus pointed out. “We will make them look their innocent victims in the face. It will give them pause.”
“Precisely what alternative do you suggest?”
“We place the human slaves in orbit in cargo containers, even crowd them aboard our weaker battleships. Then we threaten to slaughter them all if the Army of Humanity makes a move against us.” Erasmus tugged the fabric to remove a wrinkle from his plush robe, proud of his plan and his careful insight into human nature.
“Such a plan does not make strategic sense,” ThurrOm said. “If the Army of Humanity already intends to invade Corrin, they will expect human casualties. Why should this deter them?”
Erasmus widened his grin. He turned to Gilbertus. “Explain why it will be effective, my Mentat.”
The man swallowed hard, as if he didn’t want to face the reality of the threat. He seemed to go into a sort of trance, diving far down inside himself to find a calm core where he could organize all his thoughts, and he emerged a moment later with his answer. “Causing collateral casualties is different from being directly responsible for the slaughter of millions of the very human beings they are intending to free.” He paused. “The difference is perhaps too subtle for a machine to understand, but it is significant.”
“I was sure my extrapolation of human nature was correct!” Erasmus beamed. “After we fill our ships with innocent humans, we inform the League commander that we will execute the hostages if they intrude beyond a clearly defined boundary. It will be a bridge they dare not cross.”
“A bridge of hrethgir,” Gilbertus muttered. “It will work with a little luck.”
“Luck does not enter into our projections,” ThurrOm said.
The two everminds discussed the merits of the brash strategy, flickering impulses back and forth in a dizzying blur. Finally, they reached their conclusion, and Erasmus felt thoroughly proud of himself.
“Agreed. There must be no delay. The hrethgir fleet is already coordinating their assault.” Even as the everminds spoke, they had already transmitted orders to armies of combat meks, battleship controllers, and sentinel robots to begin the massive effort.
Gilbertus looked deeply troubled, but the robot turned to his ward. “Perhaps this is the only way some of us can live, Gilbertus.”
* * *
ONLY MACHINES, WITH their unwavering efficiency and relentless diligence, could have accomplished such an impossible task.
Cargo containers were filled with throngs of people herded out of the slave pens. One after another, cumbersome and barely spaceworthy vessels lumbered up through the atmosphere to their positions in low orbit. Most of the bristling machine fleet remained locked just inside the scrambler perimeter, while some of the vessels descended to take on large loads of unwilling passengers.
Although the life-support systems on the cargo containers and laden battleships were minimally sufficient, there would not be enough food or supplies to last the millions of hostages for long. Erasmus wasn’t overly concerned with their welfare. The situation might change dramatically within a few days, if the human commanders reacted according to his estimation.
In the calm and restful botanical gardens of his villa, Erasmus enjoyed the company of Gilbertus Albans, while the furious activity continued unabated. The man asked after Serena, who was nowhere to be found. The robot made his face into a reassuring smile. “You and I are best equipped to deal with this crisis, my Mentat. I require your full concentration.”
Gilbertus blushed and responded with a weak grin. “You’re right. Sometimes she can be very distracting.”
In the day since the League Vengeance Fleet had arrived, the human ships had consolidated their forces, moved into organized attack positions. They were obviously prepared to move. Erasmus hoped the “Bridge of Hrethgir” would be completed soon enough to stand as an effective deterrent.
Around them, the gentle fountains made soft and soothing sounds. Flowers were in bloom, with hummingbirds flitting from blossom to blossom. Everything on Corrin seemed to be at peace, except for the looming war fleet in space. Erasmus very much enjoyed this garden.
“Will you really kill them all, Father?” Gilbertus asked, his voice quiet. “If the Army of Humanity ignores your threat and passes the boundary, will you be the one who transmits the destruct command? Or will it be Omnius?”
Though the outcome would be the same either way, the independent robot could see that the question mattered a great deal to Gilbertus. “Someone must do it, my Mentat. We are thinking machines, so the humans will know we are not bluffing. They don’t believe we are capable of falsehood. If we say we will do this, then we must be prepared to follow through.”
The man’s face remained placid. “We did not ask for this untenable situation. I would rather… make them responsible. I don’t want you to kill so many hostages, Father. Put the trigger in the League commander’s hands, so that he is directly to blame for the slaughter, if he chooses to move ahead.”
“How? Explain.”
“We can turn the tables by making their Holtzman satellites into a line of death that works both ways. Key the destruct sequences in all the cargo containers to the sensors in their own scrambler net. Once the Army of Humanity passes beyond their own satellites, those sensors will transmit the destruct signal.” Gilbertus seemed to be pleading. “If they cause the death and destruction, knowing this is the price of their actions, it will give their own commander an additional reason to hesitate.”
Though Erasmus struggled to understand the difference, he was pleased at the deeper insight that Gilbertus was showing him. “I would never doubt your intuition. Very well, I will let you program the trigger systems so that the League ships themselves initiate the massacre. It will not be a direct action on my part.”
The man seemed strangely relieved. “Thank you, Father.”