For some men, hesitation is in their nature. Determination is in mine.
— SUPREME BASHAR VORIAN ATREIDES,
transmission to Vengeance Fleet
Before Vor could give the order to proceed with the final crushing victory at Corrin, a burst of static filled the general comline, cutting off Rayna Butler’s prayers and replacing them with a smooth machine voice.
“We address the new group of human invaders. It is clear that you have come to Corrin intending to destroy us. Before you act, we must make you aware of certain consequences.”
The tone was hollow but erudite, with just an edge of smugness. Vor recognized the voice— Erasmus! He clenched his jaw and maintained his silence as he listened, waving the grumbling bridge crew to silence. Close-up views of the robots’ defensive system filled every scanner screen, enhancing the flurry of activity in close orbit.
“Those are not our images, Supreme Bashar,” Abulurd said. “They’ve piggybacked onto our scanning systems.”
“Are the Holtzman satellites still functioning?” Vor asked, suddenly fearing their primary line of defense had crumbled.
“Yes, still capable of scrambler pulses. But somehow their signal is penetrating our own comlines. I’m searching for alternative circuits, trying to reroute.”
“Let’s hear what Erasmus has to say— then we’ll destroy them all,” Vor growled.
The robot’s voice spoke over the shifting images. “Your reconnaissance has already observed the ring of containers around Corrin. We have filled these new cargo vessels and many of our battleships with innocent human hostages. Slaves, more than two million of them, taken from our camps and pens.”
The screen blurred, then shifted to show crowds of faces, people crammed together and moaning. Image after image flickered, a litany of desperate expressions.
“We have planted explosives inside every one of these cargo containers and vessels. The trigger to their destruction is tied to your own scrambler network installed around Corrin. If any Army of Humanity ship passes through those boundary sensors, the explosives will automatically detonate. Unless you maintain your distance, you will massacre two million innocents.”
Now Erasmus showed his flowmetal face. The robot was smiling. “We consider the hostages expendable— do you?”
An uproar of disbelief and curses rippled through the LS Serena Victory and was echoed by all the craft in the Vengeance Fleet and the watchdog vessels stationed over Corrin. All of them looked to Vor for a solution.
He pressed his lips together, thinking of all the battles he had fought, the friends he had lost, the blood already on his hands. He gathered his courage and spoke slowly, icily. “It doesn’t make a damned bit of difference.” He turned to his crew. “This only reinforces the reasons why we must utterly destroy all thinking machines.”
“But, Supreme Bashar!” Abulurd blurted. “More than two million people!”
Instead of answering him, Vor turned to his communications officer to initiate a response. As soon as his image was transmitted, Erasmus reacted with pleased surprise. “Ah, Vorian Atreides— our old enemy! I should not be surprised to find you behind this aggressive game.”
Vor crossed his arms over his uniformed chest. “Do you think you can make my resolve waver with your cowardly human shields?”
“I am a robot, Vorian Atreides. You know me. You know I am not bluffing.” He maintained a maddening smile on his flowmetal face.
Vor thought again of the images of multitudes of prisoners crammed into the linked vessels, their faces pressed against the plaz, frightened and hopeless. He fixed his mind on the ultimate goal, made himself stronger. If not today, he very much doubted he would ever have another chance at this.
“Then it is a sad but necessary price for victory.” He turned and gave orders to Abulurd. “Prepare the Vengeance Fleet for full assault. Wait for my command.”
His crew gasped, then grumbled, before returning steadfastly to their posts. Abulurd stood frozen, as if he couldn’t believe what his mentor had said. True, they had been willing to accept the sacrifice of innocents as regrettable but necessary casualties of war— but not like this.
After a pause, Erasmus’s voice continued, louder now but still sounding calm. “I thought you might be difficult to convince. Therefore, I have another surprise, Vorian Atreides. Take a closer look.”
To his shock, after showing several more crowds of captives, the screens focused on a room where a woman sat by herself guarded by two burly combat robots. Everyone in the League of Nobles was familiar with that face, though it had been somewhat idealized over decades of devotion and stylized memorials. Vor himself had known her in life, had even loved her. He’d never had a chance to say goodbye before she brashly flew off to Corrin to defy Omnius and the proposed peace terms.
Serena Butler.
Now, over the comline, Rayna Butler’s voice was shrill. “It is Saint Serena! Just like in my vision!”
Vor stared. She seemed to look somewhat younger than he remembered her, but eight decades had passed since her death. He knew her too well, her every expression, the set of her mouth, the gaze from her haunting lavender eyes. So many times he had seen those fateful last images, archival pictures taken as she boarded her diplomatic craft accompanied by her Seraphim guards and departed for Corrin to meet with the thinking machines— where she had been horrifically tortured and then killed.
“This is not possible,” he said, forcing a cold calm into his voice. “We all saw the images of her execution. I personally saw the mangled body, which genetic analysis proved to belong to Serena Butler.” He raised his voice. “This is a trick!”
“But Vorian Atreides— which was the trick?” Now Erasmus showed another familiar face on the screen, the hated visage of one of the Tlulaxa traitors. Rekur Van. The camera was close, showing only the genetic wizard’s face.
The flesh merchant spoke in a taunting voice. “Omnius is not so foolish as to discard a person with such potential as Serena Butler. The burned and tortured body we sent back to the League was a clone of Serena Butler, grown in our tanks on Tlulax. You know we kept genetic samples of her in our organ farms. The entire plan was designed by Grand Patriarch Iblis Ginjo.”
Erasmus added, “Vorian Atreides, believe my statement: Omnius did not kill Serena Butler. The images that so inflamed the human race were falsified by Iblis Ginjo.”
Vor felt sick and hollow inside. He remained standing though his legs grew suddenly weak. Unfortunately, the accusation was all too probable.
The robot’s eyes narrowed, and his face took on a conspiratorial look. “Iblis, in fact, perpetrated many tricks on you. Were you aware that the preserved baby displayed so proudly in your League is also a fake?”
Vor didn’t respond. He had indeed known that the innocent child’s body kept in the City of Introspection was a mere mannequin, though few outsiders realized this.
Now the image returned to Serena, and one of the guardian robots held up a small child, dangling it threateningly. No observer could mistake the implied threat.
“Consider: What if we were able to hold Serena’s child in stasis?” Erasmus said. “I felt that with a substantial surgical effort, we could repair most of the damage. Now think of your choice to attack Corrin, Vorian Atreides. If you allow your armada to come closer, all of these hostages will be killed— including Serena Butler and her baby. I doubt you want that to happen again, Vorian Atreides.”
“I cannot believe what you are showing me,” Vor said, his voice low and threatening.
Rekur Van said, “It is the Priestess of the Jihad in the flesh.”
Rayna Butler’s shrill voice cut across all the communication channels. “A miracle! Serena Butler has returned to us— and Manion the Innocent!”
Over a high-security comline Vor heard Viceroy Faykan’s agitated, panicky voice. “What shall we do now? We must rescue Serena if there is the remotest chance! Champion Atreides, answer me!”
Vor snapped, “Get off this channel, Viceroy. According to the rules of space and the Army of Humanity, I am in command of this military operation.”
“What do you intend to do?” Faykan sounded very uneasy. “We have to reconsider.”
Vor drew a deep breath, knew that once again he had to make the tough choice. He would never be able to live with himself otherwise. “I intend to complete my mission, Viceroy. As Serena herself used to say, we must achieve victory at any cost.”
Vor blocked the incoming comline, preventing any further interference from outsiders. Then he broadcast to all of his ships and crews, to every chamber on every vessel: “Do not forget that Erasmus is the one who murdered Manion the Innocent, throwing the child off a high balcony! He himself set this entire Jihad in motion. I believe his entire human shield is a subterfuge, a trick designed to turn us back.”
Vor’s eyes were dry, sharply focused. Even the stunned hush around him seemed to pound loudly in his ears. He saw Abulurd staring at him with an expression he had never seen before, but Vor looked away. Right now he had a job to do.