Navigators of Dune

Since the cells from Erasmus’s clone body had originated from Headmaster Albans, the features naturally looked familiar to Draigo, and he could not suppress an uncomfortable shiver. But this body, animated by the robot’s mind, had an entirely different affect. The man might look very similar to Headmaster Albans, but they were not at all the same person.

“I am listening,” Draigo said.

“With my human body I am finally able to consider new experiments and perform research I was previously unable to do. I revel in the marvelous possibilities,” Erasmus said. “As I continue my assessments, however, I realize that I owe a number of debts. I owe Venport Holdings for my rescue and sanctuary, I owe the Denali scientists for the work they continue to do, and I owe Directeur Venport personally. I am also obligated to you, Mentat Draigo Roget.”

“I see you have acquired a sense of personal responsibility,” Draigo said.

“I’m teaching him to be grateful,” Anna said. “I am certainly happy to have him with us.”

Erasmus continued in a voice that sounded much like that of Headmaster Albans. “The sensations and experiences in this biological body are remarkable and largely unexpected. For that I am … exceedingly thankful. You, Draigo Roget, are personally responsible for saving my memory core—just as Gilbertus earlier saved me from the ruins of Corrin. You protected and preserved my gelsphere—and therefore all my knowledge and experiences—after the Butlerians overran the school on Lampadas.”

“Don’t forget that I helped save you too,” Anna interjected.

Erasmus worked his facial muscles, eventually forming a frown. “And I have already expressed my gratitude to you. I am accomplishing a different objective now.”

She looked away, scolded.

“And what objective is that?” Draigo asked, thinking about how very peculiar this situation was. “To thank me?”

“To provide something of tangible value. Many Denali scientists believe my knowledge will lead to a breakthrough, but unfortunately thinking machines were not adept at innovation, and as a result we lost the Jihad. Hence, I doubt if I can help in any creative fashion. Any technologies I might offer would pale in comparison with what you already possess.”

“Then what is it you have in mind?” Draigo folded his arms across his chest.

Erasmus looked at him with the eerie eyes of Headmaster Albans. “Although I have inspired no theoretical breakthroughs, I can offer brute force right now.”

“In war, brute force can indeed be useful.” He nodded for Erasmus to continue.

“In the final days of the human war against the Synchronized Empire, the evermind Omnius dispatched many robotic war fleets, which spread out to numerous systems. Most of those machine battleships fell into silent inactivity when the Omnius copies were shut down.”

“Venport Holdings already located many of those abandoned robot ships,” Draigo said. “We refurbished the vessels and consolidated them into our commercial spacing fleet.”

Erasmus said something that surprised him. “I know of an undiscovered battle group: forty robotic warships that were shut down en route to a battle that was already lost. Would you like to add them to VenHold’s resources?” His lips formed a smile that he had apparently practiced. “Perhaps they would be helpful in your fight against Lampadas.”

Draigo felt a thrill as possibilities cascaded through his mind. “I am sure the Directeur will be quite interested, provided you can find them.”

Erasmus continued. “You are aware that Denali was once a cymek base. Long ago, this robot fleet departed from here and was shut down shortly thereafter; it has been dormant ever since. I have the exact location. With minimal effort you could retrieve the ships, recondition them, install new weapons, and even add foldspace engines if you desire. The vessels are yours.”

Anna slid her arms around the robot’s waist and hugged him.

Draigo was already projecting many effective ways to deploy a whole new battle group. “That would be a most acceptable gesture of gratitude.”

* * *

IT FELT GOOD to be experimenting again. That was the primary reason for the independent robot’s existence. Spending the past eight decades as nothing more than a disembodied gelsphere, Erasmus had been unable to perform the exciting work he wanted to do, and he’d had to content himself with mere thought experiments, as well as subtle psychological manipulations and schemes—which, while valuable, were not nearly as satisfying as genuine, tangible action. He’d also focused on surviving, and had accomplished that.

Now, in his flesh-and-blood form, Erasmus could walk wherever he wanted, touch anything he wanted, even eat food, and he could at last return to his research. He stood in the laboratory chamber that held the disembodied brains of failed Navigators. The brains fascinated him, enlarged and evolved, supposedly examples of superior humans, although even “superior” humans were a far cry from the capabilities of thinking machines.