When he returned from his rushed and secret meeting with Hecate, Iblis learned that Serena had called a business meeting of the Jihad Council, even though he wasn’t expected to be there. He hurried directly from the spaceport to the Council chambers, determined not to be cut out of the decision-making process. Several weeks had passed, and he needed to catch up.

He arrived at the entrance to the inner chambers just as Serena signaled the beginning of the session, only to find the chief Seraph guarding the doorway. Niriem hesitated, as if wrestling with her own loyalties, then after an instant, allowed him to enter.

Ensconced at the head of the polished meeting table, the Priestess of the Jihad seemed surprised by his presence. Iblis quickly found a seat as close to her as possible, though it was not his accustomed spot. Without comment, Serena launched into an obviously well-rehearsed speech, while the others listened intently.

“We cannot continue this Jihad alone. Human passion is powerful, but League resources are no match for the forces Omnius can bring to bear against us. The thinking machines can manufacture multiple replacement robots for every one we destroy. But for each lost jihadi fighter, a human life is forever snuffed out. We must preserve as many of those precious lives as we can.”

“What do you propose, Serena?” Iblis chose his words and tone cautiously, in the hope that he could find a way to turn her orders to his own ends. When he swept his gaze around the table, he saw to his surprise the small, anxious-looking Tlulaxa flesh merchant Rekur Van sitting at the far end of the room. He appeared to have been summoned especially for this meeting, and looked out of place. Discreetly, Iblis raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but the Tlulaxa man’s only response was a perplexed expression.

Serena said, “Juhad is and mercenaries are not the only warriors in our holy cause. It is time I recognized and blessed some of the other great contributors to our fight.” She smiled and gestured to Rekur Van, who flushed red with embarrassment at the attention.

“Though they have not engaged in active combat against the evil machines, the Tlulaxa have given our fighters much. The products of their organ farms have healed our injured veterans so that they can fight again. My dear friend Primero Harkonnen is the most famous beneficiary of all.” She nodded graciously toward the flesh merchant and a smattering of applause rippled around the table.

“From the time I was a young Parliamentarian,” Serena continued, “it was my fervent dream to bring Unallied Planets into the League of Nobles. Now, many of those worlds, including Caladan, have made overtures to us about joining the League. I intend to make a tour of potential member planets, stopping first at Tlulax. I wish to see the marvelous organ farms for myself and speak with the leaders, in hopes that they will consider joining us formally. I will see their wondrous cities and show them how much the Priestess of the Jihad appreciates their efforts on our behalf.”

Iblis felt a sudden lump in his chest, as his delicate plans continued to crumble. He had secret agreements with the Tlulaxa organ industry, and Serena did not know what she was doing! “Such plans may be hasty, Priestess. The people of Tlulax guard their privacy, and we should respect that. I am not certain how they would react to a surprise visit.”

Eyes flashing with displeasure, Serena crossed her arms over her white-robed chest. “I have walked among my people on many planets. It is inconceivable that the Tlulaxa leadership would not welcome a visit from the Priestess of the Jihad. Our fighters owe a tremendous debt to them. They cannot possibly have anything to hide— could you, Rekur Van?”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Iblis said quickly. “I am certain the government of Tlulax would be delighted to have you call upon them. However, we must dispatch a messenger to the Thalim system with all due haste so that they can prepare for your arrival. That is normal diplomatic procedure.”

“Very well, but the war moves at its own pace, and we must remain one step ahead of it.” As she outlined her ideas to the Council members, Iblis remained seated with an unreadable expression on his face.

He wondered what Hecate intended to do to help them. He hoped it was significant… and soon.

FOR MONTHS AFTER Seurat had unintentionally delivered his rampant computer virus, Bela Tegeuse reeled from its debilitating effects. Surviving machines struggled to recover, but had difficulty communicating with the crippled evermind. Finally, the independent robots cut off damaged segments of the Omnius incarnation so that only a glimmer of the sprawling computer’s sentience remained operational.

They were incredibly vulnerable.

On this dim and cloudy world where slaves grew food only by bathing crops under glaring artificial lights, the angry populace noticed the machines’ weakness and formulated plans to take advantage of it. The robots, however, aware that revolts had occurred on many Synchronized Worlds, watched for any obvious signs of a potential uprising.

Bela Tegeuse could only return to parity with other Synchronized Worlds by receiving a new and uncorrupted copy of the evermind. So they waited…

When a lone, unidentified cymek ship arrived in the Tegeusan system, broadcasting that it carried an undefiled update directly from the Corrin-Omnius, the thinking machines welcomed the messenger. Defensive perimeters opened, allowing the cymek to penetrate the outer periphery and proceed with all due haste to the central nexus in Comati at the base of the mountains.

Hecate had never thought her infiltration would be so simple and straightforward. Hadn’t the cymeks taught the machines anything?

For this venture the rebellious Titan had shed her mobile asteroid body, taking the appearance of a more traditional, though somewhat antique, cymek lander. She guided her stabilizing systems via thoughtrodes that connected her disembodied brain to spacecraft functions.

The clouds above her were thick, murky rafts of gray moisture that blocked out the faint heat of Bela Tegeuse’s sun, locking the weather cycle into an unbreakable pattern of rain and gloom. The robotic systems did not care about weather, and the sickly, pale-skinned human slaves knew no other life.

Hecate wondered what the poor human slaves would do once they were freed. Iblis Ginjo had tasked her with this aggressive, righteous action, and Hecate now rose to the challenge, eager to show what she could accomplish. She felt it would be quite interesting.

From her constant, quiet snooping, the turncoat Titan knew that at the very beginning of their renewed struggle the Army of the Jihad had attempted to wrest Bela Tegeuse free from machine domination. Their fleet had attacked the Omnius stronghold and damaged the machine infrastructure there, but had suffered so many losses that they were forced to withdraw without a clear-cut victory. Relentlessly scrounging resources and working nonstop, the remaining machines had rebuilt and reasserted their complete control over the planet in less than a year, like an inexorable tide erasing footprints on a beach.

This time, Hecate hoped, the humans would learn their lesson and act more decisively. Thanks to her, they would get a second chance. If they were paying attention. She had left a message for Iblis Ginjo via a drop point that Yorek Thurr was supposed to be monitoring. It was up to them to be ready to respond.

As she landed at well-lit Comati Spaceport under a cold drizzle, robotic machines marched forward, transmitting queries and identification demands. “The remains of our Omnius cannot access the watcheyes aboard your craft,” said one administrative robot who seemed to be in charge of the facility. To Hecate it seemed like a foolish comment, especially for AI-security units. She smiled to herself. Machines could be so blind and naïve at times.

Gathered around the fences, captive humans huddled in wet clothes. Through bleak, squinting eyes, they observed the arrival of the ship warily, as if the new Omnius update might steal away their remaining hopes.

Hecate opened the hatch and strode out wearing her ornate dragon-walker. “Your attendant watcheye mechanisms must be malfunctioning,” she said to the waiting robots. “The Corrin-Omnius was forced to shut down many peripheral systems to prevent continued infection by insidious programming errors.”

The robots accepted her explanation. “What is your designation? We are not familiar with your model of neo-cymek.”

“Oh, I am the newest of the new.” A prideful tone, as if she were superior to older models. She plodded forward carrying the heavy cylindrical package in her jointed forelimbs. Her diamond scales flashed with reflected light from the spaceport’s yellow glowpanels. “After so many terrible breakdowns, Omnius ordered the creation of many new cymeks from loyal trustees. Unlike gelcircuitry computer minds, human brains cannot succumb to this spreading virus. Neos such as myself have been sent out to deliver shielded updates protected by programming designed to override the virus. Surely you see the advantages?”

A trio of spaceport robots stepped forward to accept the heavy canister. To Hecate they seemed almost eager, anxious to be relieved of their strange problems. As expected, they were not devious or suspicious enough for their own good.

“I promise you,” she said, “this will remove all of your concerns.”

Though she had been disgusted with Ajax’s bloodshed long ago, Hecate convinced herself that murdering thinking machines— obliterating Omnius, in particular— was different… and far more admirable. The humans would be stunned and delighted!

“Are there special instructions for installing this update?” the robot asked.

Hecate backed the walker toward her ship. “Use the standard procedure. I have been ordered to depart with all possible haste, since I have other Synchronized Worlds to visit. Omnius depends on the swift completion of this task. You understand, I’m sure.”

Offering stiff gestures of acknowledgment, the robots marched away with their fateful cylinder, and Hecate installed herself in the controls of her spacecraft once more. Using thoughtrode commands, she lifted away from the spaceport under yellow spotlights.

Below, in the grid city of Comati, the robots entered the citadel where the crippled Omnius evermind struggled to continue its vital functions. The machines used delicate manipulating hands to open the casing of the cylinder and remove the layers of protective armor.

Finally, they revealed the oddly shaped but potent nuclear warhead. Their systems swiftly attempted to calculate an appropriate response, even as the detonation numbers counted down to zero….

Hecate’s ship was high above the first two layers of clouds, when she saw a silvery-yellow light erupt like a sun beneath her. She had made certain that the immense explosion could be powerful enough to eradicate all remaining traces of the wounded evermind. The bomb’s electromagnetic pulse, enhanced by the design of its warhead, rippled across the skies of Bela Tegeuse and was reflected downward by the layer of thick clouds. Each Omnius substation shorted out in a chain reaction, one after another.

It gave her quite a thrill.

As Hecate left the dim planet behind, she thought about the surviving humans there— those who had not been in the proximity of ground zero. They had never known anything other than machine rule. She wondered if they would know how to take care of themselves. Oh well. Survival of the fittest.

“Now you are free of Omnius,” she announced, knowing that no one on the planet could hear her. “Bela Tegeuse is yours, if you wish to take it.”