Dune: The Machine Crusade by Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson Page B

guards had mounted against the insurgents two decades ago. Lord Bludd had commanded all slaves to witness the execution of the rebel leader, and he and Aliid had watched in horror as the executioners stripped Bel Moulay naked and hacked him to pieces. That uprising had given the slaves a brief flicker of hope, but the death of their fiery leader had crushed their spirit and left a dark scar on their hearts.
    Finally, Ishmael gathered with other slaves so that they could hold a memorial for the fallen Bel Moulay. He saw that Aliid had also come into the compound, wanting Ishmael’s company and shared memories of the tragic event that had shaped their boyhood.
    Aliid stood beside Ozza, fidgeting, as Ishmael quoted the familiar Sutras that promised eventual paradise and freedom. They ignored the ghostly sounds of music and the militaristic bangs and pops of fireflowers. Finally, using the words he had repeated often— too often— Ishmael said to the listeners, “God promises that one day our people will be free.”
    Aliid’s dark eyes reflected the glow of the story fire. His voice was low, but clear, making Ishmael uneasy with the simmering threat: “This I swear— one day we shall have our revenge.”

Invention is an art form.

    — TIO HOLTZMAN, acceptance speech for Poritrin Medal of Valor
    W hile the swarm of new ships was rushed through construction on Poritrin, Savant Holtzman performed his work on Salusa Secundus. The legendary inventor stood inside an isolated laboratory chamber within one of the most secure zones, pacing with his hands on his hips and frowning in disapproval. It was the persona he showed whenever people expected him to do something important.
    With armored walls and power conduits cut off from the rest of Zimia’s grid, the large government facility was supposedly safe and protected. In theory, the hostage Omnius was completely contained.
    But this lab was not set up the way Holtzman would have liked. He preferred to choose his own diagnostic tools, analytical systems, and slave assistants who could be conveniently blamed if anything went wrong. A small, aging man with a gray beard, Holtzman prided himself on being able to manage resources. The Savant was sure he could provide these Jihad military scientists with good advice. If words failed him, he might have to refer the matter to his many eager assistants back on Poritrin, who constantly found ways to impress him.
    From behind secure transparent barriers, the team of legislative observers watched his every move, along with the Cogitor Kwyna, who had once again been removed from her place of restful contemplation in the City of Introspection. Even through the impenetrable barriers, Holtzman could sense the watchers’ anger and fear.
    A silver gelsphere floated in front of him, glistening as it spun in the air within the invisible suspensor field. This incarnation of the evermind was completely under his power. Where once he had felt fear at being so close, now the greatest enemy of the human race seemed like such a small thing. A child’s toy! He could have held the complex sphere in the palm of one hand.
    The silver gelsphere contained a complete copy of the computer evermind, albeit a somewhat dated version now. During the atomic raid on Earth at the very beginning of the Jihad, Vorian Atreides had seized this update from a fleeing robot vessel. Over the years, the League’s “prisoner” had provided valuable insights into thinking machine plans and reactions.
    The evermind’s programs had been copied, dissected, and examined by League cybernetic experts. As the first rule, all data was considered suspect, perhaps intentionally distorted by Omnius, though such deceit was supposedly impossible for the computer mind.
    The Army of the Jihad had undertaken a few military ventures based upon information obtained from the evermind copy. When the fighters launched an offensive against cloud-locked Bela Tegeuse, they had obtained detailed