Dune: The Machine Crusade Read Online Free PDF Page A

on an empty world two centuries ago but has remained untranslated. Until now .”
    The intrigued audience fell silent. Ignored, Muñoza Chen faltered, then sat down awkwardly, without ever officially withdrawing her question.
    “These ciphers were written by a long-dead prophet in a tongue known as Muadru, etched permanently into coated rock. The words from the past are believed to be from Earth, the mother world of humanity.” He turned to look at the yellow-robed secondary beside the ancient brain in its preservation canister. “The Cogitor Kwyna, by assisting me in the translation of these archaic rune symbols, has enabled me to understand. Kwyna, would you provide your guidance now?”
    Uncertainly, the monk secondary stood and then carried the ornate brain canister to a golden table beside the speaking podium. Iblis felt thrilled to stand beside such a magnificent mind. The saphron-robed man waited.
    Strengthened by his proximity to Kwyna, Iblis traced the complex runes with a fingertip. The audience remained silent and deeply engrossed as he began to read, enunciating the sharp lingual clicks and soft, rolling syllables. Odd, incomprehensible sounds resonated through the great meeting hall, casting a spell over the audience.
    When Iblis paused, the Cogitor’s attendant pressed his palm against the curved jar containing Kwyna’s living brain, then slowly eased his fingers into the pale blue fluid. Through this connection, he translated the Muadru words in a voice that sounded far away— as if he spoke from the distance of ages past.
    The runestone had been damaged in an ancient cataclysm that left scorch marks and deep gouges, he said. While some of his sentences were missing words, the remainder told of a terrible ancient war in which many people had died horribly. Finally, he said, “Quoting the unnamed prophet, ‘A millennium of tribulations will occur before our people find their way to paradise.’”
    Waiting for this moment, Iblis flashed a bright, exuberant grin and shouted: “Is it not clear? Free humans have suffered a thousand years under the cymeks and their machine masters. Do you not see? Our time of tribulation is over— if only we choose to make it so.”
    The blue electrafluid in the Cogitor’s canister swirled, and the secondary relayed Kwyna’s message to the assemblage. “That slice of runestone does not contain the entire prophecy. The message is incomplete.”
    Iblis pressed forward with his agenda. “We must always face both the danger, and the promise, of the unknown. One of our battle groups has gone to IV Anbus to defend against the latest robotic incursion— but that is not enough. As free people, we must act forcefully to recapture all Synchronized Worlds, freeing their enslaved human populations. Only in this way will our tribulations ever end, as the runestone prophecy proclaims. As foretold, a thousand years have passed. Now we must seize our road to paradise and cast aside the demon machines. I call for an expansion of Jihad forces, additional warships and dedicated soldiers, renewed offensives against Omnius.”
    Increased turbulence stirred the blue fluid in the canister. “And more deaths,” the secondary translated.
    “And more heroes!” Iblis raised his voice, face lit by a fervent glow. “As the wise Kwyna says, this rune fragment is all we have. Thus, as human beings, we must choose the best interpretation. Do we have the heart to pay the price necessary to make the prophecy come true?”
    Abruptly, before Kwyna could issue any contrary remark, the Grand Patriarch thanked the Cogitor and her attendant monk. Though Iblis revered the female philosopher, sadly Kwyna had spent much time in contradictory philosophies and contemplation, without understanding the realities of the Jihad.
    Iblis, though, had practical objectives. His enthusiastic audience cared nothing for philosophical hairsplitting.
    The Grand Patriarch’s voice resonated, rising and falling at