Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [142]
Strange ship, strange passengers.
According to initial reports from the machine scouts who had seized the no-ship, many of those aboard were gholas from his own past, annoyances resurrected from history, exactly as Erasmus had suspected—Lady Jessica, another Paul Atreides, a minor Swordmaster named Duncan Idaho, and who knew how many others? Gholas coughed up and spat out like wads of phlegm.
A keyed-up Paolo stood beside him on the balcony, facing the makeshift spaceport that waited to accommodate the new vessel. “Will we kill them all, Grandfather? I don’t want there to be another Kwisatz Haderach. I’m supposed to be the only one. I should take the ultraspice that Khrone delivered right now.”
“I would have you do it if I could, dear boy, but Omnius won’t permit that. Be patient. Even if there is another version of Paul Atreides aboard that no-ship, he’s probably soft and compassionate. He doesn’t have the advantage of being toughened by me.” The Baron’s full lips curled down in distaste. Paolo himself didn’t realize just how much of his fundamental personality had been changed. “You will have no trouble defeating him.”
“I have already visualized it,” Paolo replied. “Real, prescient dreams—and now I understand what is going to happen.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
The Omnius-formed buildings swayed like reeds, then embraced the battered no-ship as it landed, pulling the Ithaca down into a living metal cradle. The landing and lockdown process seemed interminable. Was it really necessary for so many structural braces to fold around the ship like claws? Considering the obvious damage to the engines, the captives could never find a way to launch the vessel again. However, Omnius had a penchant for doing things in a brute-force manner. The Baron could understand that.
Presently Erasmus appeared on the balcony, once again disguised as a matronly old woman. Gazing dispassionately at the robot, the Baron announced, “I will go aboard the no-ship. I want to be the first to”—his lips quirked in a smile—“greet our visitors.”
The old woman’s eyes twinkled. “Are you certain that would be wise, Baron? We aren’t sure yet exactly who is aboard the vessel. You could be in peril if anyone recognizes you. In your past life, quite a few people were not entirely pleased with you.”
“I certainly don’t intend to go unprotected! In fact, I expect you to provide me with full security. Some of your sentinel robots, perhaps—or better yet, an armed contingent of Face Dancers. Paolo will remain here safe, but I will go aboard.” He planted his hands on his hips. “In fact, I demand it.”
Erasmus seemed amused. “In that case, we had better give you the Face Dancers. Go aboard, Baron, and be our ambassador. I’m sure you will employ all the diplomacy the situation requires.”
We shall face the Enemy, and die if we must die. My strong preference, however, is to kill what we must kill.
—MOTHER COMMANDER MURBELLA,
transmission to human defensive forces
Ten thousand Guildships against an infinite number of Enemy vessels.
For this confrontation, the Mother Commander had prepared all the warlords, political leaders and other self-proclaimed generals, as well as her ferocious Sisters—what remained of them. Spread out across the path of the oncoming thinking-machine forces, her human defenders dug themselves in.
Guildsmen had been rushed in at the last minute to help crew the numerous battleships, launching them to their designated rendezvous points in space. The untested military commanders were as ready as the Mother Commander could make them. Like ghost soldiers, redeyed refugees from planets already ground under the machine boot heel volunteered in droves. Each craft was loaded with Obliterators produced by the tireless Ixian factories.
Unfortunately, Omnius had been preparing for centuries.
Like a force of nature, the thinking machines advanced, not dodging or changing course, without regard to the strength of planetary defenses arrayed against