Dune: The Butlerian Jihad Read Online Free

tone.
    Serena grew angry. How could that representative worry about petty price tags, when the ultimate cost was so much higher? “We will all pay— in blood— if we do not do this. We must strengthen the League and the human species.”
    Some of the nobles began to clap— the allies she had courted before her speech. Suddenly, screeching alarms echoed through the building and in the streets. Droning sirens wavered in a chillingly familiar tone— usually heard only during planned drills— summoning all reserve members of the Salusan Militia.
    “Thinking machines have entered the Salusan system,” a voice said through built-in speakers. Similar announcements would be ringing all across Zimia. “We have an alert from perimeter scouts and the sentry battle group.”
    Standing next to her father, Serena read details as the Viceroy was handed a brief and urgent summary. “We’ve never seen a robot war fleet that size!” he said. “How long ago did the first scouts sound the warning? How much time do we have?”
    “We are under attack!” a man shouted. The delegates were on their feet, scattering like stirred ants.
    “Prepare to evacuate the Hall of Parliament.” The Sergeant at Arms became a flurry of movement. “All armored shelters are open. Representatives, report to your designated areas.”
    Viceroy Butler shouted into the chaos, trying to sound confident. “The Holtzman shields will protect us!” Serena could read her father’s anxiety, though he covered it well.
    Amid shouts and cries of panic, the League representatives scrambled for the exits. The merciless enemies of humanity had arrived.

Any man who asks for greater authority does not deserve to have it.

    — TERCERO XAVIER HARKONNEN,

    address to Salusan Militia
    “T he robot fleet has just engaged our spaceguard,” Xavier Harkonnen called from his station. “Heavy fire exchanged.”
    “Primero Meach!” Cuarto Steff Young shouted from the orbital grid screens. Xavier could smell the salty metallic tang of Young’s nervous sweat. “Sir, a small detachment of machine ships has broken from the main robotic fleet in orbit. Configuration unknown, but they’re preparing for an atmospheric descent.” She pointed to the images, picking out brilliant lights that signified a cluster of inert projectiles.
    Xavier glanced at the perimeter scanners, real-time intelligence transmitted from the defensive satellites high above Tio Holtzman’s gelcircuitry-scrambling fields. On the highest resolution he saw an assault squadron of pyramidal ships roaring headlong into the atmosphere, straight toward the sizzling shields.
    “They’re in for an unpleasant surprise,” Young said with a grim smile. “No thinking machine can survive that ride.”
    “Our biggest worry will be dodging the debris from their crashing ships,” Primero Meach quipped. “Maintain surveillance.”
    But the dropcarriages slipped past the scrambler shields— and kept coming. They showed no electronic signatures at all as they penetrated the boundary.
    “How are they getting through?” Quinto Wilby mopped his brow, brushing dishwater-brown hair out of his eyes.
    “No computers could.” In a flash, Xavier understood what was happening. “They’re blind dropcarriages, sir!”
    Young looked up from her screens, breathing hard. “Impact in less than a minute, Primero. Second wave is coming in behind them. I count twenty-eight projectiles.” She shook her head. “No computer signatures on any of them.”
    Xavier called out, thinking ahead, “Rico, Powder, work with med-response teams and fire-suppression squads. Everything up to speed and ready . Come on people, we’ve drilled for this a hundred times! I want all vehicles and rescue equipment mobile and in the air, prepared to move before the first ship hits.”
    “Divert defenses to pound the invaders as soon as they crash.” Primero Meach lowered his voice, swept his flinty gaze across his comrades. “Tercero Harkonnen,