Sometimes memories are safer than reality.
— SUPREME BASHAR VORIAN ATREIDES
After the destruction of the last Omnius, as he divided his battle groups to complete the remaining planetside operations, Vor sent all available ships up to the Bridge of Hrethgir. The captain of each vessel had to do triage, set immediate priorities, and salvage the people from the worst-off cargo pods first.
And find Serena. How to locate one woman in particular, among so many hostages?
Vor’s technicians sifted through the recordings Erasmus had transmitted that showed the familiar woman and her child, and analyzing details from every image they attempted to compare and backtrack the location so they could identify which of the numerous rigged cargo vessels might contain her.
Secondary squadrons of the Army of Humanity swarmed through the packed containers lined up in orbit. Ballistas filled with rescued hostages shuttled back and forth to Corrin in an endless succession. It had taken less than two days for the thinking machines to place all of the human shields in harm’s way— a massive effort, but Vor received estimates from his staff that the remaining Vengeance Fleet ships would take at least a week to rescue the prisoners and return them to safety. He didn’t believe they could all survive that long.
The makeshift holding vessels had been designed for robots, who needed no life-support systems; atmosphere pumps had been installed swiftly, and not necessarily perfectly. Aboard many of the hostage containers, the stench was horrendous, and the air had already begun to give out. Over mobile comlines, his officers reported problems. Some captives had already died, and others were weak. None of them had any food or water left.
“Time is running out,” he muttered. “We have to speed up these operations.”
When Vor’s technicians narrowed the search to the cargo containers most likely to hold Serena, he gave orders for his battered flagship to pull alongside. “I will see for myself. If it really is her, I’ll know her immediately.”
When the command shuttle docked, Vor took a small squad of armed soldiers and combat engineers. Opening the hatch, they were mobbed by desperate people, but he and his troops pushed their way inside the death trap and again sealed the hatch. After quelling the frenzy of the hostages by firing sedative darts into the crowd, the League soldiers began an orderly evacuation. Six other personnel transport shuttles linked to hatches of the joined containers. Two engineers hurriedly studied the engines and the unreliable life-support systems, assessing how long the craft would remain intact.
Vor had another priority. He switched on his personal shield and left the professionals to do their work. After scanning the crowd being herded toward the rescue shuttles, he and four soldiers ran through a connecting tube into the next container and shoved open an airtight hatch. More prisoners pushed up against them, raising their hands, hailing their rescuers, begging for help. But the lead group hurried along, intent on their search. The sounds of boots on metal echoed as they ran.
The cargo containers were segregated into several large holds, crowded with noisy and stinking people. Finally, as Vor strained to see, one of his combat engineers called over the short-range comline. “Supreme Bashar, this container isn’t going to last long. It’s rigged with too many explosives, sir. We won’t be able to disconnect them all in time.”
Vor didn’t pause. “If they put extra explosives on this cargo container, it must be the one we’re looking for.”
The first engineer’s voice had a ragged edge. He was working with three of his team members. “We can’t keep up with the cascading failures. Commander, you have to get back aboard the flagship!”
“Not until I find Serena Butler. Keep working on the problem.” He broadened the transmission range. “Everybody report. Has anyone seen Serena and the child?”
Another soldier answered Vor’s plea. “I think they’re in here, Supreme Bashar— but something’s… not right about them. I didn’t even see her at first, and then they all changed. Right before my eyes. And… and there’s more than one Serena!”
Vor received confirmation of the location and pushed his way past slaves and troops, not thinking about the deadly explosives. His experts knew what they were doing.
In a far corner of the dim and noisome chamber, he finally saw Serena sitting on the deck next to the small boy, a toddler in gray trousers and a white shirt. The woman wore a white robe, trimmed in purple, just as in the images that had been projected. She looked at him with her strikingly familiar lavender eyes… but when their gazes locked, she showed no sign of recognition.
Then he saw another Serena, one that looked younger but otherwise identical. And two more, all of them clearly Serena Butler. Copies, impostors.
One of the women stood and moved closer to him. She reached out a hand, and Vor touched her fingers; they had a rubbery texture that seemed far from human. “I am Serena Butler. Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill my baby.” The simulated voice was almost right.
Then her face began flickering and contorting— and it changed, lost its integrity, and began to sag, showing flowmetal and a rigid structure beneath. A robot, with some sort of fleshlike disguise.
As Vor lurched backward, he heard laughter from the other side of the container. He turned from the disguised robot, then saw a face he recognized from many years ago. Rekur Van, the Tlulaxa flesh merchant. But Van had no arms or legs. His limbless torso was propped up in a harness, connected to life-support machinery. The other hostages shrank from him, glad to get away as the League soldiers evacuated them toward the rescue shuttles.
Rekur Van glowered with his dark rodent eyes. “Had you fooled for a while, didn’t I? I created that simulacrum, a biological flowmetal that looks like skin. Looks like Serena.”
Sick with disappointment, Vor glared at the Tlulaxa man. Only now did he realize how much hope he had actually hung on the impossible chance that she might still be alive. Beside him, the four soldiers moved into position to guard the Supreme Bashar, their weapons ready.
The Tlulaxa’s pinched face formed a wide grin. “Unfortunately, though a robot can mimic specific human features for a while, they always lose integrity in the end. The child-sized one was easier. Who recognizes the features of a baby anyway?”
“We’re wasting our time here,” Vor called to his guards. “Get the rest of these people out of here. I should have known machines could never come up with such lies all by themselves. They needed human assistance.”
“I’m perfectly real, though.” Rekur Van laughed. “Who would copy a body like this one?”
Vor looked around at the multiple Serenas. “Are they all shape-shifter robots?”
“Ah, no— much better. That one is a clone, from Serena Butler’s actual cells, grown with a special process. A… flawed process. While her body might be identical, the mind has none of her experiences, none of her memories or personality. In fact, I doubt if it even has a soul— the process did not work as well as I had hoped, since all the right sort of tanks are still on my homeworld.” He chortled at his joke, wavering like a toy. “I should have stayed on Tlulax. The everminds are insane. Three of them, then only two. Or have you destroyed them all already? Why would they send me up here with the useless humans?”
“Where is Gilbertus?” the Serena clone asked.
“Sir!” the first engineer shouted over the command comline. “We can’t stop the destruct mechanism! You’ve got to leave!”
The Tlulaxa shouted, “Take me with you. I have a great deal of information you could— “
Six combat robots, stationed there by Erasmus when he had ordered the rescue of Gilbertus Albans, marched through the chamber’s opposite end. Detecting Vor and the other soldiers, they began firing integral weapons. Two projectiles struck harmlessly off Vor’s shield as he hit the deck. The few hostages who had not yet gotten away were mowed down. One of his guards, carelessly unshielded, was struck in the shoulder, and he went down, clutching the raw wound.
Vor and his three remaining guards could not fire back without deactivating their shields. The robots advanced rapidly and loudly, shooting wildly. The Serena clone stepped in front of them— trying to delay them for some unfathomable reason? Did she remember, after all?
He tried to rush forward, but she was cut to pieces by repeated fire. Vor watched in revulsion as the thinking machines killed Serena Butler again.
One of the heavy projectiles caromed off the metal hull, smashing through the wall of the failing cargo container. Air shrieked through the breach, spraying out into the vacuum.
Furious, Vor switched off his own shield and blasted the oncoming robots with his heavy projectile weapon. Two of the combat machines staggered backward, giving him just enough time to grab the wounded soldier, dragging him along. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”
Switching his shield back on, Vor didn’t look behind him. He hauled the injured soldier around the bodies as the other guards alternated firing at the robots and switching their personal shields back on.
The combat engineer yelled over the comline that the destruct sequence had entered its final phase. Vor ran, but he felt numb. None of the Serenas were real. The baby wasn’t real. It had all been a stupid, desperate trick.
With the remaining combat meks still coming, Vor retreated through the connecting tube fastened to his command shuttle. His men fired from the rear, and then he rolled inside the shuttle with them. He handed off the injured soldier, and other men rushed the wounded man inside with them. Vor dove after them, sprawling on the deck as the last combat engineer sealed the hatch shut.
“Disengage!” Vor shouted.
As the flagship separated from the doomed cargo container, the rigged explosives finally detonated, destroying the Tlulaxa researcher and his unholy creations.