Dune Saga - 01 - Dune: The Butlerian Jihad by Brian Herbert;Kevin J. Anderson

Author:Brian Herbert;Kevin J. Anderson
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Sci-Fi
ISBN: 9780765340771
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2003-08-28T10:00:00+00:00

As if to balance the pain and suffering, War has also been the breeding ground for some of our greatest dreams and accomplishments.

— HOLTZMAN,

acceptance speech, Poritrin Medal of Valor

Blindly confident, Tio Holtzman plunged ahead with his new idea, making Norma Cenva feel like chaff in a gusting wind. With his alloy-resonance generator, the inventor insisted on proving himself to her.

Though she remained doubtful that his concept would work, Norma could not demonstrate her reason for uncertainty with straightforward mathematical proofs. Instinct spoke to her like a nagging voice, but she kept her worries to herself. After Holtzman’s sour reaction to her initial reservations, he had not asked for her opinion again.

Norma hoped that she was mistaken. She was human, after all, and far from perfect.

While the Savant busied himself inside the domed demonstration laboratory— a theater-sized structure atop an adjoining bluff— Norma kept to the sidelines. Even her most innocent participation made him nervous, as if he put more stock in her doubts than he admitted aloud.

Now she stood on the span of the bridge between bluff sections and reached up to grab the rail. Listening to breezes hum through the cables, she peered through safety netting at the river traffic far below.

She heard Holtzman inside the domed demo-lab, shouting to slaves as they erected a bulky generator that produced a resonating field intended to shake apart and melt a metal form. An imperious presence in a white-and-purple robe, he wore chains of office about his neck, baubles that signified his scientific awards and achievements. Holtzman glared at his workers, then paced around, double-checking, watching every detail.

Lord Bludd and a handful of Poritrin nobles would join them to watch the day’s test, so Norma understood Holtzman’s anxiety. She herself would never have made such an extravagant presentation of an untried device, but the scientist did not show even a glimmer of doubt.

“Norma, please assist me in here,” Holtzman called in an exasperated tone. On short legs she ran from the bridge into the enclosure. He gestured disgustedly toward the slaves. “They don’t understand a thing I’ve told them to do. Supervise them, so I can test the calibration.”

At the center of the reinforced chamber, Holtzman’s crew had erected a metal mannequin that had the vague features of a combat robot. Norma had never seen a real thinking machine, but had scrutinized many stored images. She stared at the mockup. This was the enemy, the true foe against which all of her work must be directed.

She looked at her mentor with more compassion, understanding his desperation. Holtzman was morally obligated to pursue any idea, to find any way to continue this noble fight. He had a good feel for projected energies, distortion fields, and nonprojectile weaponry. She hoped his alloy-resonance generator would work after all.

Before the slaves had finished rigging the test apparatus, a commotion occurred outside the main house. Ribbon-festooned ceremonial barges came into view above the cliffs, where Holtzman’s balconies overlooked the river. Scale-armored Dragoon guards stood on the flying craft with Lord Bludd, along with five senators and a black-robed court historian.

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