When Vorian Atreides encountered Seurat’s update ship again in deep space, it was no surprise to either of them. Vor had always known in his heart that they would meet again, and the robot captain had calculated a slim but nonzero probability of the occurrence.

The bureaucracy of the Army of the Jihad had specific, complicated, and annoying regulations that supposedly prohibited a Primero from doing half the things Vor did. He knew his behavior frustrated Xavier to no end, but nothing his friend said would ever change Vor’s impulsive streak. Over and over again, he flew small ships alone, on missions of his choosing. Ever since joining the fight against the machines, Vor had been staunchly independent— a proverbial loose cannon, though an effective one.

After completing his Caladan mission, Vor departed from the watery world, unable to justify spending further time there with Leronica Tergiet. He left a detachment of jihadi soldiers at the listening post, and left a small part of his heart at the seaside tavern. Promising to send messages to Leronica whenever his military duties allowed it, Vor set off again to fight for the ultimate annihilation of thinking machines….

In the vicinity of Caladan, at the edge of Omnius’s sphere of influence, Vor plotted from memory the usual routes he and Seurat had taken on their update runs. Since unleashing the unwitting Trojan Horse robot, Vor had heard scattered reports about Synchronized World breakdowns, and by plotting the datapoints of chaos he was able to trace the line of Seurat’s route.

No further damage had been reported in some time, and Vor was not surprised that the machines had eventually caught on to the problem. He wondered what Seurat’s fate had been, once the evermind discovered his hidden destructive programming. A sophisticated computer was not supposed to be vindictive, and Vor hoped Omnius hadn’t simply destroyed the robot captain out of spite.

That would have been grossly inefficient and a waste of resources.

Vor spent a week on solo patrol, following the lines of the traditional update route. He justified his search as “gathering vital intelligence for League military planning,” and it gave him the advantage of spending time alone, so that he could consider his unexpected feelings for Leronica.

He had always been aloof, enjoying himself on shore leave or temporary assignments on scattered League Worlds, but somehow this woman from Caladan had found a convoluted way into his heart. She had planted roots inside his very soul, and— like a time bomb going off— he was just now beginning to realize it. Vor was confused and happy at the realization… and deeply sad that he was not with her. Love had never been a foreign concept to him, though he had been blind to the possibility that it could feel anything like this. Now he understood how Xavier felt toward Octa.

But drifting alone through space on the edge of enemy territory, preoccupied as he was with bittersweet thoughts, did little to advance the Jihad. The ongoing war should have been his only priority….

When the large black-and-silver update ship crossed his path and loomed before him, Vor’s attention swung back to more immediate concerns.

The update craft should have fled, should have engaged in evasive maneuvers to avoid even a small Jihad warship. If the robot captain carried an update of the computer evermind, his programming would command him to protect the silvery gelsphere at all costs.

But the update ship stopped, and Vor faced it in open space.

He recognized the configuration of the vessel, though the design appeared to have been modified, repaired, and expanded. Without a doubt, this was the same ship he had found drifting lost in high orbit over the Earth’s solar system.

He opened the comline and transmitted immediately. “Old Metalmind. I thought I might find you out here.”

Then he noticed that the ship’s modifications included a battery of weaponry. Kinetic projectile ports slid open now and crackled red, ready to fire.

Vor felt a prickle of cool sweat on his neck. “Are you going to blow me out of space without even saying hello?”

“Hello, Vorian Atreides.” Coppery-faced Seurat appeared on his screen. “There, I have taken care of the pleasantries. Now would it be acceptable for me to destroy you?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Vor kept his fingers on his own weapons controls. He could perhaps take the robot captain by surprise, though the update vessel seemed to outgun him significantly. “It appears Omnius has improved your odds with all those guns. I was wondering when the thinking machines would get around to that.”

“I am aware of what you did to me and through me, Vorian. According to my records, eight Synchronized Worlds were severely damaged, due to the programming virus introduced by the update sphere I delivered. I presume you were responsible for that?”

“I can’t take all the credit, Old Metalmind.” Vor grinned. “After all, you yourself delivered each one of those programming time bombs. And you were the one who taught me so much about gelcircuitry and basic programming. See? It was a cooperative effort.”

Seurat’s flowmetal face gleamed in the lights from his update ship’s cockpit. “Then I regret having been such an excellent teacher.”

AS SEURAT SCANNED the image of Vorian Atreides, he used his previous experience and adaptive programming to analyze just what the human must be thinking. The robot Erasmus would have envied the opportunity.

After his capture and return to Corrin, where the corrupted update sphere was confiscated, Seurat endured an extensive debriefing by the restored Omnius. It soon became apparent what had taken place, and the sabotaged programming was stripped away, though Erasmus recommended the safest course: destroy all memories contained within the Earth-Omnius copy. “Those events occurred twenty-six standard years ago. While they may be interesting, they are not particularly relevant data and not worth the risk, Omnius.”

Seurat suspected that, for reasons of his own, Erasmus did not want the evermind to have the information. The update pilot did not mention this, however, since he had no wish to incur the displeasure of the other independent robot.

After the explanations were logged and filed, and before Seurat could be assigned to a new and appropriate update run specifically designed to restore the Omnius incarnations on the virus-damaged worlds, Erasmus had spent a day in intense high-speed conversation with the robot pilot.

“I have studied humans for centuries. I have performed experiments, collected information, and made extrapolations to explain erratic human behavior. I learned a great deal from Serena Butler, and now I find that my new experiment raising and training Gilbertus Albans yields fresh insights.

“However, Seurat, you also had a unique opportunity. You spent years accompanied by the trustee Vorian Atreides, son of the Titan Agamemnon. I now require you to share with me your observations and any relevant details that might assist me in my quest to comprehend human nature.”

Seurat could not refuse. With an exchange of information that was similar to, but much briefer than, the synchronization of an update sphere, he collated, summarized, and transferred all conversations and memories he had of Vorian Atreides.

As Seurat did this, he reviewed all of those memories himself and recalled with a reaction akin to fondness all the enjoyable flights on the Dream Voyager. Now that the robot pilot was alone on a new update ship— one which, sadly, had only a numerical designation and no name— he realized that he much preferred having the company….

The two ships now faced each other in space, each with enough weapons to destroy the other, and Seurat found he did not wish to annihilate his former companion. “Do you recall our seventh mission to Walgis, Vorian Atreides? Twenty-eight years ago? We experienced a great deal of difficulty after leaving the system.”

Vor chuckled. “Difficulty? That’s quite an understatement. We ran into a meteor swarm that ripped open the side of the Dream Voyager. All of our atmosphere gushed out— and I was almost sucked out with it.”

Seurat continued to stare at his friend and nemesis. “Yes, but I caught you and held you in my grip. I refused to let go.”

“Really? I don’t remember all the details,” Vor said. “I was pretty busy gasping for air. Explosive decompression is quite unpleasant for a human, you know.”

“I am aware of this. I carried you to a small storage cubicle and sealed you inside where I could maintain atmospheric pressure.”

“You wouldn’t let me out for almost two days,” Vor said. “I was starving by the time you opened the door again. You hadn’t thought to give me any rations.”

“My thought was to save your life, and I required that much time to repair the hull damage and reestablish the life-support systems.”

Vor looked at him wistfully, and then a puzzled frown creased his face. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for that.”

“Robots do not require gratitude, Vorian Atreides. I have, however, expended a great deal of effort to keep you alive and intact— on a significant number of occasions. Therefore, it would be foolish for me to destroy you now.”

Seurat powered down his weapons systems and retracted his missile launchers and projectile tubes. For a moment the robot pilot was vulnerable, if Vorian Atreides chose to blast away. The thinking machine fired up his engines, spun about on his central axis, and launched the ship away at the highest possible velocity before Vor could react. Seurat was out of range by the time his human companion managed to transmit a burst of surprised questions.

Baffled and smiling, Vor drifted for a time in his scout ship. Then he began to laugh out loud.