In the pristine, contoured cabin of the Dream Voyager, Vorian Atreides and Seurat cruised between star systems again, picking up and delivering Omnius updates to maintain congruence in the distributed evermind across all the Synchronized Worlds. They exchanged updates with other copies of the evermind, synchronizing the Omnius incarnations, and departing with new data to be shared among the widespread networks. Vor loved being a trustee.

Days in space passed, each like the others. The oddly matched pair performed their jobs efficiently. Seurat and the small cadre of maintenance drones assured sterile cleanliness and optimal efficiency in the cabins, while Vor occasionally left food or drink stains, leaving a few items half-finished or in disarray.

As he often did, Vor stood at an interactive console in the cramped rear compartment, rummaging in the ship’s database to obtain more information about their destinations. He had been taught the benefits of bettering himself in his training among the other privileged humans on Earth. His father’s example— rising from an unknown man to become the greatest of the Titans, conqueror of the Old Empire— showed him how much even a mere human could accomplish.

He was surprised to see that the Dream Voyager‘s normal route had changed. “Seurat! Why didn’t you tell me we’ve added a new planet? I’ve never heard of this . . . Giedi Prime in the Ophiuchi B system. Previously it was listed as a solid League World.”

“Omnius programmed that destination into our course before we departed from Earth. He expected that your father would have conquered it by the time we arrive. Omnius is confident in Agamemnon’s ability to make good after their failure on Salusa Secundus.”

Vor felt pride that his father would tame yet another unruly world for the thinking machines. “No doubt all will have gone well by the time we arrive, and our forces will be mopping up.”

“We will see when we get there,” Seurat said. “It is still months away.”

ON MANY OCCASIONS they engaged in traditional human competitions from the extensive databases, such as poker or backgammon; other times Vorian would make up a new game, declare a set of absurd rules, and then proceed to defeat Seurat, until the autonomous robot learned to manipulate the rules for himself.

The two were evenly matched, but with drastically different skill sets. While Seurat was talented at intricate strategy and could calculate many moves ahead, Vor often pulled off baffling innovative twists to win. Seurat had trouble comprehending the human’s erratic behavior. “I can follow the consequences in a logical progression from an individual event, but I cannot understand how you manage to turn impulsive and illogical behavior into an effective strategy. There is no causal connection.”

Vor smiled at him. “I’d hate to see you calculate an ‘irrational’ response, old Metalmind. Leave it to the experts, like me.”

The son of Agamemnon was also quite proficient at military tactics and strategies, a skill he had developed by studying the great battles of ancient human history, as summarized in his father’s extensive memoirs. The cymek general made no secret that he hoped his son would become an accomplished military genius one day.

Whenever Seurat fell behind in a particular contest, he continued his irritating habit of distracting Vor with jokes, trivia, or anecdotes— tailoring them to interest the brash young man. During all the time the machine captain had known his human copilot, Seurat had accumulated and assessed information, preparing it for future use. The robot captain had become adept at raising topics that engrossed Vor and sent his thoughts spinning.

Seurat chattered incessantly about the legendary life of Agamemnon, adding details Vor had never read in the memoirs: great battles the Titans had won, planets they had added to the Synchronized Worlds, and the warrior-forms Agamemnon had designed for private gladiatorial contests. Once, the robot captain concocted an absurd tale about how the great general had literally lost his mind. The cymek’s protected brain canister had accidentally detached from its walker-form and gone tumbling down a hill, while the mechanical body, on automatic programming, had to scamper about and find it.

However, Vorian had recently uncovered information more unsettling than anything the robot could ever reveal. Between games and challenges, he often skimmed the open databases, reading his favorite parts of his father’s memoirs, trying to make sense of the reams of Omnius’s minutiae. On one of those excursions Vor discovered that over the years, Agamemnon had sired twelve other sons. Vorian had never assumed he was the only one— but a dozen unknown brothers! The great Titan general would naturally have wanted to create descendants worthy of his legacy.

Worse, he discovered that each of those dozen sons had proved to be a failure. Agamemnon did not suffer disappointments gladly, and had killed his unacceptable offspring, though they had been privileged trustees just like Vor. The last had been executed nearly a century ago. Now Vor was his father’s best hope, but not necessarily the only choice. Agamemnon must still have more sperm in storage . . . and thus Vor was just as expendable as the others.

After learning that, Vor became immune to Seurat’s attempts at distraction.

Now Vor sat at the table, staring at a projected game board and considering his next move. He knew Seurat could not determine what was going on inside the unpredictable human mind. Even with all his independent sophistication, the robot accumulated only external data and did not recognize subtleties.

The trustee smiled, just a little, which Seurat did not fail to notice. “You are playing a little trick on me? Exercising some secret human power?”

Vor continued to smile and stare at the board. It was a multigame competition, revolving inside a three-dimensional screen embedded in the tabletop. Each player attempted to choose a contest or situation that benefited him from a wide selection of games, and then make a move. The score was tied, and the next point would win the contest.

The various games came up at random, and each time Vor had only a few seconds to make his move. He watched the shifting graphics as they locked into place momentarily before moving on. The ancient Terran game of Go appeared on the palette of selections; nothing there to benefit him. More options flowed by. A machine-biased game appeared next, one that required more memory than Vor had. He let it pass. Two other games appeared that he didn’t like, followed by a poker hand.

Relying on luck and bluster, Vor faced off against the robot captain, who could not understand the strategy of bluffing or the “skill” of random odds. Vor’s expression was unreadable, and he laughed at the confusion he saw on Seurat’s mirrored face.

“You lost,” Vor said. “And you lost, badly.” He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling smug after the robot finally folded his hand. “It’s not just the score, but the way you tried to win.”

Seurat responded that he did not wish to play more games, and Vor laughed at him. “You’re sulking, old Metalmind!”

“I am reassessing my tactics.”

Vor reached across the table and pounded his opponent’s slick shoulder, as if to comfort him. “Why don’t you stay here and practice, while I run the ship? Giedi Prime is still a long journey from here.”