Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [186]
She turned from him in disgust. A flurry of transmissions arrived from the other defender vessels, all reporting dead Face Dancers onboard. Amidst the jumble of comm activity, Janess’s voice came in sharp and clear. “Five Face Dancers were on my vessel, Mother Commander. All are now dead.”
Meanwhile, the listless Enemy ships continued to drift apart, though they could easily have pressed their attack on Chapterhouse and achieved victory. Murbella’s thoughts spun, wrestling with yet another mystery. Face Dancers among us, working for Omnius. But why did they drop dead?
Not long ago, the Oracle of Time had whisked her numerous Heighliners away from this battlefield to Synchrony . . . to Duncan. Had the Oracle and her Navigators struck a blow that sent ripples through the entire Enemy fleet? Had Duncan? Something seemed to have shut down the thinking-machine battle fleet and all their shape-shifter spies.
Murbella indicated the dead Face Dancers sprawled near her. “Get those monstrosities out of here.” Not bothering to hide their revulsion, several Sisters dragged the scarecrowish bodies away.
Murbella focused on the screen with such intensity that her eyes burned. The Honored Matre part of her wanted to strike and kill in a frenzy, but all of her Bene Gesserit training screamed for her to understand first. Something essential had changed here. Even the voices of Other Memory couldn’t counsel her. Thus far, they had been mute.
Representatives of the remaining populations on Chapterhouse transmitted urgent messages, demanding reports from the front, wondering how long they might expect to survive. With no answers for them, Murbella didn’t respond.
Janess transmitted a brash suggestion. “Mother Commander . . . should we board one of the Enemy ships? It could be our best chance to discover what’s happened.”
Before she could answer, space distorted again around them. Four huge Heighliners reappeared, emerging in the debris-strewn battle zone so close to the human defenders that Murbella shouted for evasive action. The Guild pilot on one of the nearby ships reacted with an exaggerated maneuver, pulling his heavy cruiser out of the way and nearly colliding with Janess’s vessel. Another careened into a debris field of destroyed first-wave machine ships.
A third defender acted impulsively and opened fire on the silent thinking-machine fleet, launching a volley of explosive projectiles into the conical nose of the nearest machine battleship. Fiery eruptions burst out in a repeating pattern along the Enemy vessel’s hull.
Alarms rang out, and Murbella demanded reports, wondering if the machines would respond with a massive display of force. No more caution. “Prepare to fire! All ships, prepare to fire! Hold nothing back!”
But even thus provoked, the darkened Omnius fleet remained motionless. The Enemy vessel damaged in the impulsive barrage careened in a slow drift, still burning. Very slowly it crashed into an adjacent machine ship and caromed off, sending them both spinning.
The Enemy ships did not fire a single return shot. Murbella couldn’t believe it.
In the midst of the surprise and mayhem, a Navigator’s voice sounded calm and otherworldly. “The Oracle of Time has sent us here to locate the commander of the human forces.”
Murbella pushed her way to a commline station. “I am Mother Commander Murbella of the New Sisterhood . . . of all humanity.”
“I have orders to escort you to Synchrony. I will now take command of your foldspace engines.”
Before her Guildsmen could scramble to their stations, the Holtzman engines hummed at a higher pitch. Murbella felt a familiar shifting sensation.
It is too simplistic to state that humans are the enemies of all thinking machines. I strive to understand these creatures, but they remain incomprehensible to me. Even so, I greatly admire them.
—ERASMUS,
private files, secure database
You want something from me?” Erasmus seemed to