For days, Tercero Xavier Harkonnen stayed up late working on defensive plans for the League. Since his sweet night with Serena— a sparkling promise of their future— he had devoted himself to the protection of free humanity.

On Salusa he flew practice missions, drilled new fighters, increased the number of picket ships on the system’s perimeter for a stronger first defense, and extended the scanning network to provide a better early-warning capability from deep space. Engineers and scientists dismantled and studied the warrior-forms abandoned by the cymeks and left behind in the ruins of Zimia, hoping to find flaws or weaknesses. With each breath in his replacement lungs, he felt outrage against the thinking machines.

He wanted to spend more time with Serena, dreaming of where they would go after the wedding, but driven by anger and private guilt about Giedi Prime, Xavier buried himself in work. If he had concentrated on the primary mission there, rather than mooning like a lovesick schoolboy, he might have noticed the defensive flaw and helped the Magnus to prepare. Even encouraging the immediate completion of the secondary shield generator would have made all the difference. But it was too late now.

Seemingly inconsequential mistakes could lead to huge events. Xavier promised himself that he would never lapse in his duties again, not for any reason. If that meant spending less time with Serena, she would understand.

Emergency staff meetings resulted in a revision of the military structure of the Armada, combining the resources and numerous warship designs from all the planetary militias and home guards. The special defensive needs and tactical significance of each League World were discussed in detail. Armada recruitment surged to new levels. Manufactories worked overtime to provide ships and weapons.

Xavier hoped it would be enough.

In his office on the top floor of the Joint Staff Building, electronic star maps covered the walls. Printed charts and reports cluttered every work surface. Each step of the way, he obtained the approval of the Joint Staff Commander, who in turn reviewed key elements with Viceroy Butler.

When he slept at all, Xavier did so in his office or in the underground barracks. For days he did not return home to the Tantor estate, though his mother often sent eager young Vergyl to deliver meals made especially for him.

Oddly, he had not heard from Serena, and assumed the Viceroy’s daughter was occupied with vital duties of her own. The two young lovers were alike in their ability to see large-scale priorities . . . and in their independence.

Determined to revamp League defenses, Xavier kept himself going with stimulant capsules and drinks. He rarely noted what time of day or night it was, heeding only the next meeting on his schedule. Now he blinked through his office window at the quiet streets and the city lights glittering in the darkness. How long had it been night time? The hours merged with each other, carrying him along like a pebble in a landslide.

In the final tally, how much could one man actually accomplish? Were some League Worlds already doomed, no matter what he did? Because of the distances between planets and slow space travel, communication was sluggish, and news was often stale by the time it reached Salusa Secundus.

His reliance on stimulants made him feel scratchy and ragged. He was awake, but so pummeled by fatigue that he could no longer focus. He heaved a huge sigh, staring blankly. At the side of the office, his adjutant, Cuarto Jaymes Powder, had cleared a spot on a table and rested his head on the polished wood.

When the door opened, Cuarto Powder did not stir, or even snore, but continued sleeping like the dead. Xavier was surprised to see Viceroy Butler stride in, also weary to the core. “We need to implement whatever you’ve got ready, Xavier. Funding is guaranteed. For the sake of morale, the people must see us doing something.”

“I know, but we need more than one solution, sir. Have Lord Bludd encourage Savant Holtzman to present any preliminary concepts he has under development.” He rubbed his eyes. “If nothing else, we need new options for our arsenal.”

“We already talked about that last night, Xavier— at great length.” The Viceroy looked at him strangely. “Don’t you remember? He has several prototype units almost ready.”

“Yes . . . of course. I was just reminding you.”

Xavier crossed the room and sat at an interactive information screen, a high-security system that flirted with the dangers of a computer. The electronic summary system could organize and provide vital data, but had no self-awareness. Many nobles— especially Bludd of Poritrin— resented the use of even such crude computers, but in times such as these, the summary systems were vital.

Passing his hand over the screen, Xavier made adjustments in his report to Parliament, including a compendium of planet-specific appendices, then printed the document, copies of which would be sent to each League World. Presently he handed a neat stack to the Viceroy, who perused the recommendations and signed his approval with a flourish. Then Serena’s father hurried out of the office, leaving the door open behind him.

At the table, Cuarto Powder stirred and sat up, bleary-eyed. Without a word, Xavier settled into the chair at his own desk. Across the room, the summary screen flashed in an aurora of light as technicians filled it with probing signals to make certain the system exhibited no glints of artificial intelligence.

As his aide drifted off again, Xavier dozed as well. In his groggy imagination he dreamed that Serena Butler was missing, along with a ship and military team. It seemed surreal to him, but plausible . . . then he realized with a start that he was not asleep at all anymore.

Powder stood at his desk with another officer, listening to the bad news. “She’s taken a blockade-runner, sir! Modified it with expensive armor and weaponry. She has a group of commandos with her. An old veteran, Ort Wibsen, agreed to lead them.”

Xavier struggled to throw off the confusion induced by weariness. After rubbing his scratchy eyes he was surprised to see Serena’s wide-eyed sister Octa standing behind the men. In a pale hand she held a gleaming black diamond necklace dangling from a coil of gold, which she hurriedly handed to him.

“Serena told me to wait five days, and then give this to you.” Octa seemed ethereal, delicate; she moved to his side, but would not meet his gaze.

Searching for answers, Xavier removed the necklace from the coil. When he touched the black diamonds, the perspiration on his hand activated a tiny projector that showed a small holo image of Serena. He stared at her, feeling astonishment and dread. The visual seemed to look directly at him.

“Xavier, my love, I have gone to Giedi Prime. The League would have argued the issue for months, while the conquered people suffer. I can’t permit that.” Her smile was heartbreaking, but hopeful. “I have a team of the best engineers, commandos, and infiltration specialists. We have all the equipment and expertise we need to slip in and activate the secondary shield transmitter. We will complete the construction and install the systems— enabling us to cut off the planet from thinking machine ships, while trapping the ones that are already there on the surface. You must bring in the Armada and recapture this world. We’re counting on you. Think of how much we can help humanity!”

Xavier was unable to believe what he was hearing. The image of Serena continued to speak her recorded message. “I will be waiting there, Xavier. I know you won’t let me down.”

Xavier clenched his hands until his knuckles whitened. If anyone could accomplish such a surprising mission, it was Serena Butler. She was impetuous, but at least she was trying to do something. And she knew her decision would force the rest of them to act.

Octa began crying softly at his side. Viceroy Butler rushed into the office, appalled at what he had heard.

“That’s just like her,” Xavier said. “Now we have to rally a response— there’s no choice.”