Grinning, Josef turned to Ptolemy. “Most impressive!”
The scientist groaned. “But I lost three of my Titans — almost half of my finest cymeks — to destroy one worm! They were my experimental subjects, and I spent so much time and care—” Agitated, he began coughing so hard that he nearly fell out of the observation chair. “Two of them, Hok and Adem, rescued me on Denali when my life support failed.”
“Don’t worry, they performed well — beyond my expectations.” Josef clapped him on the shoulder. “More important than that, you proved that a sandworm can be killed! We have the means to do it.”
Ptolemy slumped in his chair, pale and uncertain, but found his resolve. “Based on this demonstration, Directeur, I shall make improvements to the walker bodies to ensure that the others are more protected.” The churned sand looked as if it had been the site of an aerial bombardment. “The Navigator brains for the next batch of Titans will have better data for increased performance.” He looked deeply sad.
Suddenly, with an eruption that flung gouts of sand in all directions, a second sandworm lurched out of the dunes.
The creatures were suspected to be territorial, but the Mentat had already suggested that this might be a contested zone. Surprised by the new monster, the Titans could not react in time. The second worm smashed one cymek in its first blow, swept two other walker bodies away, and swallowed the fourth.
Ptolemy fell to his knees from the chair in deep despair. “I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it.” All lost. Xinshop, Yabido, all seven of his elite force. Tears streamed down his dusty cheeks.
The first sandworm, the dying one, continued to quiver and twitch on the sand. The second eyelessly regarded its rival, uninterested in the ruined cymeks or the distant VenHold observers. For long moments, the creature loomed over the severely damaged body of the dead worm, and then glided out onto the open dunes from which the first worm had come, claiming the territory for itself.
On the rock outcropping, VenHold workers hurried out of the landed spacecraft, folded up the observation chairs, and prepared to depart.
Ptolemy continued to stare at the battleground. “They’re all gone. Every one of our finest test subjects. I … I still have much work to do.”
But Josef felt exhilarated. “Don’t be downcast — that was tremendous. And you have plenty more proto-Navigator brains to work with. Ah, just imagine what those cymeks could do against the Half-Manford. We’ll need more of your creations, many more, and I authorize you to build them.”
He urged the research scientist back into the shuttle. “You’re going to help me defeat our enemies, Dr. Ptolemy. Your cymeks will prove invaluable, both here on Arrakis and in battles against the barbarians.” He pondered for a moment longer. “And, if it should ever come to this, they will fight on our side in a war to take control of the entire Imperium.”
Chapter 38 (Human imagination is a powerful thing)
Human imagination is a powerful thing. It can be a sanctuary from difficult times, a catalyst to change society, or the impetus to create marvelous works of art. On the other hand, an overabundance of imagination can inspire paranoia that impairs one’s ability to interact with reality.
— Suk School Manual, Psychological Studies
Erasmus said into Anna’s ear, “Do you like my voice? It should sound familiar.”
She paused, hesitated, then gasped. “Hirondo! My darling, is that you?”
The robot was pleased that he had matched it closely enough, and Anna Corrino’s imagination smoothed over any inaccuracies. The Mentat School had access to many records, but without large computer databases, Erasmus had experienced difficulty finding what he needed. Finally, he’d discovered a small report about the scandal at the Imperial Court in which a palace chef had disgraced the Emperor’s sister with their affair. The report had included no more than a snippet of audio — a panicked Hirondo protesting his innocence — which gave Erasmus little to work with. Also, the stress in the young man’s voice had changed the timbre. Erasmus did his best to adjust the pitch.
“I can be part of your memories of Hirondo.” Erasmus spoke in the false voice, trying to manufacture a soothing tone. “I will always be here, right beside you, inside your mind. I’ll never leave you … so you can tell me everything.”
Erasmus was going to enjoy this. And he actually found it … pleasing?… that she responded with such joy. After her ordeal with the sapho-unleashed memories, he found it fascinating to pretend to console her, as a necessary part of satisfying his own curiosity. He could learn many details of humanity from her, a different perspective from what he had learned from Gilbertus over many years, but the next step would be even better, a technological enhancement that would give him a closer, and permanent, connection with her.
The independent robot had spread his tendrils throughout the Mentat School complex, extending his reach even though he had no physical body. Thanks to the many thinking-machine specimens that had been stored in a sealed vault “for study,” Erasmus had raw materials for his use. Over a long, slow period, he had subtly utilized deactivated combat meks, along with isolated computer minds and automated devices, all of which he used to construct hundreds of miniature drone robots.
The first one was the size of a human hand; in turn, that device built a smaller machine, which then constructed an even smaller mechanism. Finally, the drone robots were able to use near-microscopic scraps to reproduce perfect miniaturized copies of themselves. With very little computing power, the drones merely followed the guidance Erasmus transmitted, and they did amazing work threading conduits throughout the buildings, implanting spy-eyes, diverting power and expanding invisible power grids, even dropping tracers onto insects and swamp creatures so that his observation network expanded into the tangled sangroves.
His masterpiece was a tiny implanted device, a new spy-eye and listening device, a tiny silver robot the size of Anna’s smallest fingertip. It didn’t look like a robot at all, but a beautiful insect.
Talking to her through the minuscule speakerpatches near her bed, he explained, “This is my special companion, Anna. It will snuggle inside your ear canal and let us communicate whenever you need to hear from me.”
Trusting him completely, she placed the small silver robot next to her ear, and the insectlike machine crawled inside to where it could touch her auditory nerve and transmit signals. Erasmus wished he could read her thoughts, but this was the next best thing.
“I knew you’d come back to me, Hirondo,” she said, sighing.
“I have always lived within you,” he answered, not wanting to disillusion her. “And now we can be together always. I am your closest, most loyal friend — don’t ever forget that.” He realized that, even though this was all just a grand experiment, the statement might be true — Anna had no other close friends.
Erasmus worried that she would speak aloud to him as she mingled with the Mentat students. But Anna Corrino was already considered odd, and her quiet mutterings would only enhance that impression.
The young woman walked along the corridors and across walkways to the observation deck and looked out at the sangrove thickets that made the near lakeshore an impenetrable maze. “When you’re this close to me, Hirondo, I love you even more. We can remember things together, plan for our future together.”
Erasmus was surprised, but pleased. Love. The human emotion had always eluded him, despite his many attempts to understand its complexities. He and Gilbertus had a relationship of mutual affection in which the human called him “Father,” but that was quite different from the feelings Anna still had for her lost lover. Now Erasmus would have the opportunity to explore the emotion much more closely.