Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [184]
Then, after stretching out the moment for effect, the independent robot said, “And this. Your services are no longer required.”
With his face twisted in rage and desperation, Khrone threw himself toward Erasmus—only to fall to the stone floor, as dead as the rest of his brethren.
Erasmus turned to Duncan Idaho. “So, Kwisatz Haderach—as you see, I control fundamental parts of our intriguing game. I would not suggest my powers are as great as your own, but in this particular case, they are quite useful.”
Duncan did not show any awe. “How far will your shutdown virus spread?”
“As far as I wish. Even though the Oracle of Time extracted Omnius from the tachyon net, the strands of that vast interconnected mesh still exist in the fabric of the universe.” Erasmus twitched his head again and sent out a signal. “There, I just dispatched my trigger to every modified Face Dancer throughout human civilization. They are dead now. All of them. They numbered in the tens of millions, you know.”
“So many!” Jessica exclaimed.
Letting out a whistle, Paul said “Like a silent jihad.”
“You would never have known most of them. With memory imprints, some even believed they were human. All across what remains of your former empire, a great many people are probably quite surprised as comrades, leaders, friends, and spouses drop dead where they stand and transform into Face Dancers.” Erasmus laughed again. “With a single thought I’ve eliminated our enemies. Our common enemy. You see, Duncan Idaho, we need not be at odds.”
Duncan shook his head, feeling oddly sickened. “Once again, the thinking machine sees total genocide as a simple solution to a problem.”
Now Erasmus was surprised. “Don’t underestimate the Face Dancers. They were . . . evil. Yes, that is the correct word. And since each one was fundamentally part of a hive mind, they were all evil. They would have destroyed you, and they would have destroyed us.”
“We’ve heard that kind of propaganda before,” Jessica said. “In fact, I’ve heard it cited as the primary reason why all machines need to be destroyed.”
Duncan looked at all the dead Face Dancers, realizing how much damage the shape-shifters had done for centuries, whether they were guided by the evermind or by their own schemes. Face Dancers had killed Garimi, sabotaged the no-ship, and caused the death of Miles Teg . . .
Looking at the robot, Duncan narrowed his eyes. “I can’t say I’m terribly sorry, but there was no honor in what you—or the Face Dancers—did here. I cannot agree with it. Don’t think we are indebted to you.”
“On the contrary, it is I who owe so much to you!” Erasmus could barely contain his pleasure. “That is exactly the way I’d hoped you would react. After thousands of years of study, I believe I finally understand honor and loyalty—especially in you, Duncan Idaho, the very embodiment of the concept. Even after an event that obviously helps your race, you still object to my tactics on a moral basis. Oh, how wonderful.”
He looked down at all the Face Dancers, the astonished and confused expression on Khrone’s face. “These creatures are the exact opposite. And my fellow machines are not loyal or honorable, either. They merely follow instructions because they are programmed to. You have shown me what I needed to know, Kwisatz Haderach. I am very much in your debt.”
Duncan stepped closer, searching for some way to access the new abilities he knew lay dormant inside him. Just knowing he was the much-anticipated Kwisatz Haderach was not enough. “Good. Because now I want something from you.”
A single decision, a single moment, can make the difference between victory and defeat.
—BASHAR MILES TEG,
Memoirs of an Old Commander
It’s a trap—it must be.” Murbella stared at the vast yet motionless Enemy fleet. The human ships were still outnumbered hundreds to one, but the thinking machines made no