Agamemnon was not eager to face Omnius. Having already lived more than a thousand years, the cymek general had learned to be patient.

As patient as a machine.

Following their secret rendezvous near the red dwarf star, he and his fellow Titans reached Corrin after an interstellar voyage of nearly two months. The robotic fleet had arrived days before, delivering the battle images captured by the watcheyes. The evermind already knew about the defeat. All that remained was for Omnius to issue rebukes and reprimands, especially to Agamemnon, who had been in command.

As he landed his ship under the blazing giant sun of Corrin, the cymek general reached out with his sensor network, accepting data through his thoughtrodes. Omnius would be waiting, as always, after a mission.

Perhaps by now the evermind would have accepted the failure.

A false hope, Agamemnon knew. The all-pervasive computer did not react in the manner of a human.

Before emerging from his ship, the Titan general chose an efficient mobile body, little more than a streamlined cart that carried his brain canister and life-support systems connected to the framework. The cymek moved out onto the paved boulevards under the enormous baleful eye of the red giant. Harsh crimson light washed the flagstoned streets and white facades.

Millennia ago, the bloated star had expanded, growing so large that its outer layers swallowed the inner planets of the system. Corrin itself had once been a frozen outlying world, but the increased heat from the swollen giant now made the planet habitable.

After the atmosphere thawed and the icy seas boiled away, Corrin’s landscape became a blank slate on which the Old Empire established a colony during its younger, ambitious days. Most of the ecosystem had been transplanted from elsewhere, but even after thousands of years Corrin still seemed an unfinished world, missing many of the ecological details necessary for a thriving planet. Omnius and his independent robot Erasmus liked the place because it seemed new and unburdened by the baggage of history.

Agamemnon trundled along the streets, followed by hovering watcheyes that monitored him like electronic guard dogs. With surveillance monitors and speakers throughout the city, the evermind could have conferred with him anywhere on Corrin. Omnius, however, insisted on receiving the cymek general in a lavish central pavilion built by human slave labor. This pilgrimage of contrition was part of Agamemnon’s penance for the Salusa failure. The powerful computer understood the concept of dominance.

The electrafluid surrounding his brain churned blue as Agamemnon prepared to defend himself against a rigorous interrogation. His mobile body passed under tall arches supported by scrolled white-metal columns. Eccentric and earnest, the robot Erasmus had copied ostentatious trappings from historical records of human empires. The awesome gateway was designed to make visitors tremble, though the Titan doubted Omnius cared about such things.

The cymek general halted at the center of a courtyard where fountains trickled from gaps in the walls. Tame sparrows flitted about the eaves and nested atop the pillars. Inside terra cotta urns, scarlet lilies bloomed in violent explosions of petals.

“I have arrived, Lord Omnius,” Agamemnon announced through his voice synthesizer— a mere formality, because he had been closely observed since emerging from his ship. He waited.

In the echoing pavilion, the mirror-faced Erasmus was nowhere to be seen. Omnius wanted to upbraid his general without the curious scrutiny of the independent and annoying robot. Though Erasmus fancied that he understood human emotions, Agamemnon doubted the eccentric machine would show even a glimmer of compassion.

The voice boomed from a dozen speakers in the walls, like an angry deity. No doubt the effect was intentional. “You and your cymeks have failed, General.”

Agamemnon already knew how the discussion would play out— as did Omnius. Surely the evermind himself had run simulations. Yet, this was a dance that must be continued.

“We fought hard, but could not achieve victory, Lord Omnius. The hrethgir put up an unexpectedly fierce defense and were surprisingly willing to sacrifice their city rather than let the shield generators fall. As I have said many times, feral humans are dangerously unpredictable.”

Omnius responded without hesitation. “You have repeatedly insisted that cymeks are far superior to the human vermin, combining the best advantages of machine and man. How, then, could you be rebuffed by such untrained, uncivilized creatures?”

“In this instance, I was in error. The humans realized our true objective faster than we had anticipated.”

“Your forces did not fight hard enough,” Omnius said.

“Six neo-cymeks were destroyed. The gladiator body of the Titan Xerxes was demolished, and he barely escaped in a launch pod.”

“Yes, but the remainder of your cymeks survived. A mere twenty-one percent loss does not equate with ‘fighting to your fullest.’” Around the courtyard, chirping sparrows flitted about, oblivious to the tension between Omnius and his top military officer. “You should have been willing to sacrifice all your cymeks to bring down the scrambler shields.”

Agamemnon was glad he no longer displayed human expressions, which the computer mind might be able to interpret. “Lord Omnius, cymeks are irreplaceable individuals, unlike your robotic thinking machines. In my estimation, risking the loss of your most vital Titans was not a reasonable exchange for one insignificant planet infested with feral humans.”

“Insignificant? Before the mission you emphasized the extreme importance of Salusa Secundus to the League of Nobles. You claimed that its fall would precipitate a complete collapse of free humanity. You were in command.”

“But is the League itself worth the obliteration of your remaining Titans? We created you, established the foundation for your Synchronized Worlds. The Titans should be used for more than cannon fodder.” Agamemnon was curious as to how the evermind would respond to this line of reasoning. Perhaps by setting up the Titans to fall in battle against feral humans, Omnius planned to bypass the choke-hold of Barbarossa’s protective programming.

“Let me ponder that,” Omnius said. Screens on the pavilion walls projected watcheye images from the battle on Zimia. “The hrethgir are smarter than you presumed. They saw your target. You made an error in judgment thinking your cymeks would be able to push forward easily.”

“I miscalculated,” Agamemnon admitted. “The humans have a clever military commander. His unexpected decisions allowed them to mount a successful resistance. Now, at least, we have tested their scrambler fields.”

Agamemnon’s explanations rapidly degenerated into a succession of rationalizations and excuses. Omnius analyzed and dismissed them, leaving the Titan feeling bare and humiliated.

In the serene courtyard, bright flowers bloomed and birds sang. Trickling fountains added their musical sounds . . . and Agamemnon contained his outrage within himself. Even his sensitive mechanical body showed no sign of agitation. A thousand years ago, he and his fellow Titans had controlled these damnable thinking machines. We created you, Omnius. One day, we will also destroy you.

While it had taken the visionary Tlaloc and his group of rebels only a few years to conquer the sleepy Old Empire, Omnius and his thinking machines proved to be a far superior adversary, never sleeping, always watching. But even machines made mistakes. Agamemnon just needed to exploit them.

“Is there anything else, Lord Omnius?” he interrupted. Further arguments and excuses would serve no purpose. Above all else, machines craved efficiency.

“Only my next set of instructions, Agamemnon.” The Omnius voice moved from speaker to speaker, giving the impression that he was everywhere at once. “I am dispatching you and your Titans back to Earth. You will accompany Erasmus, who intends to continue his studies of captive humans there.”

“As you command, Lord Omnius.” Though surprised, Agamemnon showed no reaction. Earth . . . a very long journey. “We will determine other ways to destroy this blight of humanity. The Titans exist only to serve you.”

It was one of the few advantages of Agamemnon’s human side: Even though the evermind was filled with a vast quantity of data, Omnius did not know how to recognize a simple lie.