I’m a thinker. That is what I do, in great depth and detail, every waking moment of the day. I like to believe it’s worthwhile. And yet, I can’t help but recall something Erasmus said to me once when I was young, and he was my master: “All of these things with which we occupy ourselves don’t amount to much in the cosmic scale of things, do they? No matter how extensively we ponder any particular topic, there is really very little there.”

—GILBERTUS ALBANS, Reflections in the Mirror of the Mind

The Mentat School administration offices were a labyrinth of modular rooms and cubicles; in the background, music played so softly that Gilbertus often ignored it. This afternoon, however, the melody drew his attention because he heard the punctuating, powerful notes of “Rhapsody in Blue,” one of Erasmus’s favorite Old Earth pieces. Since the independent robot had managed to connect his memory core to the school’s audio systems, Erasmus had no doubt chosen the music himself, another subtle reminder of his hidden presence. None of the professors or students in the school would guess at the thoughts and emotions such melodies elicited in Gilbertus, or in the machine mind of Erasmus, with its simulation programs.

Gilbertus left a staff meeting, made his way to the secondary wing, and entered an office that was more suited to a tenured professor than to a mere student, but Draigo Roget was no ordinary teaching assistant. On the cusp of graduation, Draigo had reached the limits of what Gilbertus or any of the instructors could teach him, and soon the young man would depart from the school as a full-fledged Mentat.

Gilbertus had made him repeated offers of a professorship. “Some of the best graduates choose to stay behind. You have performed better than any other student in the history of this institution, and you can probably teach better than most of our instructors.”

Draigo remained noncommittal. “I can also serve outside in the Imperium as a Mentat. That is what I have been trained to do.” Gilbertus could not argue with the logic, although he had insisted on giving him the larger office and other perks in hopes that he would consider the position.

Once again, he considered telling Draigo about Erasmus, hoping he would at last have an ally in protecting and studying the robot’s memory core. Erasmus would have been happy to work with another ward, someone who might be more easily convinced to build him a new machine form. But Gilbertus decided he could not take that risk yet … if ever.

Now, Draigo did not look up when the headmaster entered. With his dark eyebrows drawn together, the young man was combing over stacks of printed documents that overflowed his desk and sat in piles on the floor and side chairs: written records that tracked the appearances and movements of Omnius’s ships throughout more than a century of the Jihad, countless scattered data points.

Glancing up at Gilbertus, as if he’d been caught in an illicit action, Draigo said, “Just a little mental exercise before my graduation. By collating all the data of known sightings and attacks, I’m trying to backtrack and do a Mentat projection that looks at the ripples of second-order influences. Maybe I can discover the hidden footprints of other abandoned robot fleets or outposts. Given sufficient end points, perhaps I can extrapolate the beginnings.”

“Interesting—and very ambitious. Would you like some assistance?” Gilbertus understood the depth of the problem; it wasn’t simply a retrograde projection, since they had no way of knowing how many different depots or shipyards had launched all the vessels, or which ones had been destroyed or shut down during the course of the Jihad. However, with enough data points and intensity of mental focus, maybe they could tease out a bit of information. If anyone was capable, Draigo might do it. “With all that information, we should split it up and compare summaries.”

The young man smiled. “That would be an excellent idea, and I would appreciate your assistance. One last cooperative effort between master and student?”

The finality of the words disheartened Gilbertus. Taking a seat at the adjacent desk, he proceeded to scan document after document, speed-reading, absorbing data. As he retained all of the points in his mind, patterns began to emerge, and several hours later when the two of them compared what they’d discovered, Draigo said what Gilbertus was already thinking.

“I’ve extrapolated a few places where large numbers of machine vessels might have been built and launched,” Draigo said. “Extensive shipyards.”

“I’ve projected that, too,” Gilbertus said. “The most significant convergence of paths originates from a star system labeled as Thonaris. Yes, the evidence suggests it could be a prominent machine industrial facility.” Though he didn’t personally remember any previous mention of such shipyards, he could always ask Erasmus for confirmation.

Draigo tapped his fingertip on the records, which he had stacked in neat piles after memorizing the entries. “This seems like useful information. Thank you for your assistance.”

The two men remained silent for a time, each pondering the implications. Gilbertus knew that if he revealed the data to the Butlerians—as he was expected to do—Manford Torondo would ransack and destroy any such outpost, if it existed. Or, other commercial interests could salvage and exploit the treasure trove. Gilbertus did not like either alternative.

“It might be best if I consult the Emperor about what he wants to do,” Gilbertus suggested. “I will consider this further, but perhaps I should deliver this projection to him in person the next time I travel to Salusa Secundus.”

Draigo shrugged, as if he had no interest in the matter, now that the problem was solved. “We have time. The machine outpost has waited there untouched since before the Battle of Corrin—if our deduction is accurate.”

“It has been enjoyable working with you, Draigo Roget,” he said. “I will miss our friendly contests and our cooperation.”

The other man bowed his head. “And I have enjoyed learning from you, but I look forward to graduating. I shall do my best to continue to learn, even in the outside world.”

*   *   *

LATER, IN THE privacy of his office, Gilbertus removed the memory core from its hidden compartment and conferred with the robot mind about the new information.

“Oh yes, I remember the Thonaris shipyards,” Erasmus said in his erudite voice. “One of our largest industrial operations.”

“Now that I have the information, how should I reveal it?” Gilbertus remained troubled. “And to whom? To Manford Torondo, to increase his goodwill toward the school? To the Emperor?”

“There is no rush to reveal it at all. One doesn’t simply give away such important information, even to the Emperor. Consider the value, and keep it as a bargaining chip. Reveal it only when you need to, when it is in our best interest to do so. You never know when such a ‘discovery’ might come in handy.”

“That sounds like good advice.”

“Have I ever given you any other kind?”

Gilbertus grinned. “No comment.”