Vorian Atreides sat at a large, polished table in a debriefing room, ready to face a crowd of gathered political leaders, all of whom had questions and suspicions. He hoped he had answers for them.

Iblis Ginjo would be interviewed separately. The League had already dispatched its fastest scout ship to Earth to verify the stories and assess the current status of the revolt.

Looking around the capital city had absolutely astounded Vor. The buildings of Zimia had none of the outrageous grandeur of Earth, and the streets seemed . . . disorganized. But the people he saw, the colors, the clothes, the expressions on their faces— he felt as if he had awakened from a dream. Vor steeled himself and resolved to cooperate so he could help the free humans in every way possible. If they would allow him.

For an interrogation session such as this, Agamemnon would have used pain stimulators and exotic torture devices. Undoubtedly, the League saw this as a remarkable opportunity to obtain inside information on Omnius. Sitting around the table and standing against the walls, representatives regarded him with curiosity, some with hatred or at least resentment.

Always before, Vor had been proud of his lineage, deluded by the perceived glories of Agamemnon and the Titans. Free humans, though, had a different view of history. A more accurate view, he hoped.

Uncomfortable before so many agitated people, Vor felt adrift, missing Serena, hoping she was all right. Had she reunited with Xavier Harkonnen yet? Would she ever want to see Vor again?

Before the buzz of conversation could dwindle in the debriefing room, Vor spoke, starting slowly and selecting his words with the utmost care. “I make no excuses for my behavior. My cooperation with the machines has certainly caused harm and pain to people in the League of Nobles.” He looked around the room, met each curious eye. “Yes, I worked as a trustee on an update ship, delivering copies of Omnius to the Synchronized Worlds. I was raised by the thinking machines, taught their version of history. I even revered my father, General Agamemnon. I thought he was a great cymek.”

He heard mutters around the room. “Serena Butler, though, opened my eyes. She challenged me to question what I had been taught, and finally I saw that I had been deceived.” He wrestled with what he was about to offer. It seemed the final betrayal of his past.

Let it be so.

He took a deep breath, continued. “It is my fervent hope that I can use my knowledge and skill— as well as my detailed information about the workings of the thinking machines— to assist my fellow human beings, who are currently in revolt against Omnius on Earth.”

A growing mutter passed among the listeners around the table as the representatives began to realize the implications of his words. “I distrust any man who would betray his father,” one of the representatives said, a tall man with a pockmarked face. “How will we know he is not giving us distorted intelligence?”

Vor frowned at the accusation. Surprisingly, the coldly beautiful Zufa Cenva of Rossak said from one side, “No, he speaks the truth.” Her dark eyes penetrated him, and he had difficulty looking into them for more than a moment. “If he dares to lie here, I will know.”