For weeks after returning from one shattered life to another, Serena Butler had gently sidestepped her father’s suggestion that she return to her role in the League Parliament. For now she preferred the City of Introspection, the quiet and peaceful gardens. The philosophical students there preferred their contemplative privacy, and left her alone.

Her view of the war, the League, and of life itself had suffered a dramatic change, and she needed time to assess her new role in the universe and find ways to help once again. She felt that she could possibly do even more than before. . . .

The story of Serena’s captivity, her murdered baby, and the rebellion on Earth had spread quickly. At the urging of Iblis Ginjo, the preserved body of little Manion had been placed in a small plaz-walled tomb in Zimia, a memorial symbolizing just one of the billions of victims of the thinking machines.

A tireless spokesman, Iblis had slept little since his arrival in the capital city, spending every hour with delegates, passionately describing the horrors of captive humans, of the cruel cymeks, of Omnius, trying to put together a massive force of League warships to rescue the humans of Earth. The escaped rebel leader wanted the Salusans to accept him as a hero.

As Serena’s self-appointed prolocutor, Iblis spoke first-hand of the Synchronized Worlds, telling the awful story of how the robot Erasmus had killed innocent Manion and how Serena herself had dared to raise her fists against the thinking machines. Through her selfless bravery against the cruel masters, she had incited a rebellion that had brought the Earth-Omnius to a standstill.

Iblis employed his well-honed speaking abilities and convinced many people of his sincerity. He had in mind a public strategy that included passionate rallies hosted by Serena herself. She was the perfect person to act as the heart around whom a scaled-up rebellion could coalesce. But Serena remained in seclusion, unaware of the groundswell that was occurring in her name.

Without her, Iblis decided to take up the cause of human freedom anyway, even if he had to make every decision himself. He could not permit such a tremendous opportunity to wither and vanish. He felt the power of opinion building in the city of Zimia, forging into another weapon for him to use. Even the League politicians wanted to go rescue the heroic human fighters on Earth— but they discussed and debated endlessly in Parliament, just as Serena had warned they would.

Now, meeting privately with Segundo Harkonnen at the officer’s request, Iblis felt uneasy in the cramped room of the Armada headquarters. Apparently these chambers were part of an old military prison, where suspected deserters had once been interrogated. Narrow rectangular windows encircled the room, and Xavier paced the floor, his silhouette eclipsing the small amount of daylight that filtered in.

“Tell me how you came to be a leader of human work crews,” the officer asked. “A priviliged trustee, like Vorian Atreides, serving the thinking machines and reaping benefits while other humans suffered.”

Iblis gave a dismissive gesture, pretending that the Segundo was joking. “I worked hard to earn privileges and rewards for my loyal workers,” he said in his resonant voice. “We all benefited.”

“Some of us are suspicious of your convenient enthusiasm.”

Smiling in response, Iblis spread his hands. “Neither Vorian Atreides nor I have ever tried to hide our pasts. Remember, to acquire inside information, you need someone who has actually been inside. You will not find better sources of information than the two of us. Serena Butler has many insights, as well.”

He remained calm. Iblis had faced, and fooled, the Titan Ajax— a much more terrifying and masterful interrogator than Segundo Harkonnen. “The League would be foolish not to seize this opportunity,” Iblis added. “We have the means to help the human fighters on Earth.”

“It is too late for that.” Xavier stepped closer, looking stern. “You triggered the revolt, then left your followers behind to be slaughtered.”

“I came here to get help from the League. We don’t have much time if we are to rescue the survivors.”

Xavier’s face was stony. “There are no survivors . . . on the entire planet. None.”

Stunned, Iblis was slow to respond. “How is that possible? Before we departed on the Dream Voyager, I left a competent, loyal man in charge. I assumed that he—”

“Enough of this, Xavier,” a new voice came from an unseen speaker in the dim walls. “There is enough guilt and blood to cover all of our hands. Let’s decide what to do next, instead of trying to turn one of our greatest potential resources against us.”

Xavier stood stiffly, facing a blank wall. “As you wish, Viceroy.”

The walls of the interrogation chamber shimmered and faded to reveal a hidden observation room, in which a dozen men and women sat in tribunal fashion. Dizzy, Iblis recognized Viceroy Butler at the center of the group and Vorian Atreides looking satisfied off to one side.

The Viceroy rose from his seat. “Iblis Ginjo, we are a special committee of Parliament here to investigate this terrible news from Earth.”

Iblis could not restrain himself. “But the eradication of all life on Earth? How can this be?”

Xavier Harkonnen said in a somber voice, “As soon as your ship arrived here, the Armada dispatched its fastest scout. After several weeks, the pilot has just returned with his full, terrible report. Only thinking machines remain on Earth. Every single rebel is dead. Every slave, every child, every trustee. It is likely they were all exterminated before the Dream Voyager even reached Salusa Secundus.”

Viceroy Butler activated several large screens built into the walls, which depicted horrific scenes, piles of mangled corpses, marching robots and cymeks slaughtering crowds of humans that had been rounded up. Image after image appeared, in gruesome detail. “Earth, the homeworld of humanity, is now nothing more than a vast graveyard.”

“Too late,” Iblis mumbled in a daze. “All those people . . .”

The conversation paused as crowd noises came from outside the building, chants of, “Serena! Serena!” He was shocked to hear her name.

“Iblis Ginjo, I cannot express enough gratitude that you and your friend brought my daughter back to me,” Viceroy Butler said. “Unfortunately, the man you left in charge of the revolt was not up to the challenge.”

Vorian Atreides looked stern. “Nobody could have succeeded there, Viceroy. Not Iblis, not myself. It was only a matter of time.”

Segundo Harkonnen appeared angry. “You’re saying it’s pointless to fight against Omnius, and any revolt is doomed to failure? We proved that idea wrong at Giedi Prime—”

“I was at Giedi Prime as well, Segundo. Remember? You shot at me and severely damaged my ship.”

Xavier’s brown eyes flashed with anger. “Yes, I remember, son of Agamemnon.”

“The uprising on Earth was a grand example,” Vor said, “but the participants were only slaves, armed with little more than their hatred for the thinking machines. They never had a chance.” He turned to look at the members of the special committee. “The League Armada, on the other hand, is a different story altogether.”

Seeing the opportunity to press the point, Iblis said in a booming voice, “Yes, look what a mob of untrained slaves managed to achieve. Then imagine what a coordinated military response might accomplish.” Outside, the voices of the demonstrators grew louder. Iblis continued, “The losses on Earth must not go unavenged. The death of Viceroy Butler’s grandchild— your own son, Segundo Harkonnen— cannot go unpunished!”

Vor could not tear his gaze from Xavier, trying to see him as the brave man who had stolen Serena’s heart, and then had married her sister. I would have waited forever for her.

Finally, he focused on Iblis Ginjo. Vor did not particularly like the rebel leader, whose motivations were not clear to him. Iblis seemed obsessively fascinated with Serena, but it was not love. Nevertheless, Vor did agree with the man’s assessment.

Speaking loudly, Iblis continued, as if he had been brought here to address the tribunal members, and not to answer their questions. “The events on Earth are a setback, nothing more. We can rise above it, if we have the will to do so!”

Some of the representatives were caught up in his enthusiasm. Outside, the crowds grew more agitated, and security troops could be heard over a public address system, attempting to maintain order.

As Vor looked on, Iblis gazed from face to face and then into the distance, as if only he could see something there. The future? Iblis gestured with his hands as he spoke. “The people of Earth were slaughtered because I encouraged them to oppose their machine masters, but I feel no personal guilt over this. A war must begin somewhere. Their sacrifice has demonstrated the depth of the human spirit. Consider the example of Serena Butler and her innocent baby, what she endured and still survived.”

Vor saw agitation on Xavier Harkonnen’s face, but the officer said nothing.

Iblis smiled and stretched out his hands. “Serena could have an important role in the new force that will overwhelm the machines, if she only recognizes her potential.” He spoke directly to Manion Butler, in an increasingly fervent voice. “Others may try to take credit for it, but Serena was the true spark of the great revolt on Earth. Her child was slain, and she raised her hands against the thinking machines, for all to see. Think of it! What an example she is to the entire human race.”

Iblis stepped closer to the tribunal members. “All across the League Worlds, people will hear of her bravery and feel her pain. They will rally to her cause, in her name, if asked to do so. They will rise up in an epic struggle for freedom, a holy crusade . . . a jihad. Listen outside— do you hear them chanting for her?”

There it is, Iblis thought. He had made the religious connection recommended by Cogitor Eklo. It didn’t matter what particular creed or theology they followed— of paramount importance was the fervor that only zealousness could provide. If the movement was going to be large, it needed to touch upon the emotions of people, needed to draw them into battle without any thought of failing, without concern for their own safety.

Following a long, poignant pause, he added, “I am already spreading the word. Ladies and gentlemen, we have the makings of much more than a revolt here, something that sets apart the soul of mankind from the soulless thinking machines. With your help, it could be a tremendous victory borne on the wings of human passion . . . and hope.”