Brian Herbert & Kevin J. Anderson - Dune 10 - The Butlerian

=================================================

Notes:

This book was scanned by JASC/elibrary

If you correct any errors, please change the version number below (and in the file

name) to a slightly higher one e.g. from .9 to .95 , or if major revisions + proof, to v.

1.0 or higher.

Current e-book version is v .9

Comments, Questions, Requests(no promises): daytonascan4911@hotmail.com

DO NOT READ THIS BOOK OF YOU DO NOT OWN/POSSES THE PHYSICAL

COPY. THAT IS STEALING FROM THE AUTHOR.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Book Information:

Genre: Sci-Fi

Author: Brian Herbert & Kevin J. Anderson

Name: The Butlerian Jihad

Series: Book One (DUNE Prequel)

=======================================================================

DUNE

THE BUTLERIAN JIHAD

Brian Herbert

and

Kevin J, Anderson

Princess

Irulan

writes: kny true student must realize that History has no beginning.

Regardless of where a story starts, there are always earlier heroes and earlier tragedies.

Before one can understand Muad'Dib or the current jihad that followed the

overthrow of my father, Emperor Shaddam IV, one must understand what we fight

against. Therefore, look more than ten thousand years into our past, ten millennia

before the birth of Paul Atreides.

It is there that we see the founding of the Imperium, how an emperor rose from the

ashes of the Battle of Corrin to unify the bruised remnants of humanity. We will delve

into the most ancient records, into the very myths of Dune, into the time of the Great

Revolt, more commonly known as the Butlerian Jihad.

The terrible war against thinking machines was the genesis of our political-

commercial universe. Hear now, as I tell the story of free humans rebelling against the

domination of robots, computers, and cymeks. Observe the basis of the great betrayal

that made mortal enemies of House Atreides and House Harkonnen, a violent feud that

continues to this day. Learn the roots of the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood, the Spacing ana

tneir JNavigators, the Swordmasters of Ginaz, the Suk Medical School, the Mentats,

Witness the lives of oppressed Zensunni Wanderers who fled to the desert world of

Arrakis, where they became our greatest soldiers, the Fremen.

Such events led to the birth and life of Muad'Dib.

LONG BEFORE MUAD'DIB, in the last days of the Old Empire, humanity lost its drive.

Terran civilization had spread across the stars, but grew stagnant. With few ambitions,

most people allowed efficient machines to perform everyday tasks for them. Gradually,

humans ceased to think, or dream… or truly live.

Then came a man from the distant Thalim system, a visionary who took the name of

Tlaloc after an ancient god of rain. He spoke to languid crowds, attempting to revive

their human spirit, to no apparent effect. But a few misfits heard Tlaloc's message.

These new thinkers met in secret and discussed how they would change the Empire,

if only they could overthrow the foolish rulers. Discarding their birth names, they

assumed appellations associated with great gods and heroes. Foremost among them

were General Agamemnon and his lover Juno, a tactical genius. These two recruited the

programming expert Barbarossa, who devised a scheme to convert the Empire's

ubiquitous servile machines into fearless aggressors by giving their AI brains certain

human characteristics, including the ambition to conquer. Then several more humans

joined the ambitious rebels. In all, twenty masterminds formed the core of a

revolutionary movement that took over the Old Empire.

Victorious, they called themselves Titans, after the most ancient of Greek gods. Led

by the visionary Tlaloc, the twenty allocated the administration of planets and peoples

among themselves, enforcing their edicts through Barbarossa's aggressive thinking

machines. They conquered most of the known galaxy.

Some resistance groups rallied their defenses on the fringes of the Old Empire.

Forming their own confederation—the League of Nobles—they fought the Twenty Titans

and, after many bloody battles, retained their freedom. They stopped the tide of the

Titans and drove them back.

Tlaloc vowed to dominate these outsiders one day, but after less than a decade in

power, the visionary leader was killed in a tragic accident. General Agamemnon took

Tlaloc's place as leader, but the death of his friend and mentor was a grim reminder of

the Titans' own mortality.

Wishing to rule for centuries, Agamemnon and his lover Juno undertook a risky

course of action. They had their brains surgically removed and implanted in preservation

canisters that could be installed into a variety of mechanical bodies. One by one—as the

remaining Titans felt the specter of age and vulnerability—all of the others also

converted themselves into "cymeks," machines with human minds.

The Time of Titans lasted for a century. The cymek usurpers ruled their various

planets, using increasingly sophisticated computers and robots to maintain order. But

one fateful day the hedonistic Titan Xerxes, anxious to have more time for his pleasures,

surrendered too much access to his pervasive AI network.

The sentient computer network seized control of an entire planet, followed quickly

by others. The breakdown spread like a virulent infestation from world to world, and the

computer "evermind" grew in power and scope. Naming itself Omnius, the intelligent

and adaptible network conquered all the Titan-controlled planets before the cymeks had

time to warn each other of the danger.

Omnius then set out to establish and maintain order in its own highly structured

fashion, keeping the humiliated cymeks under its thumb. Once masters of an empire,

Agamemnon and his companions became reluctant servants to the widespread

evermind.

At the time of the Butlerian Jihad, Omnius and his thinking machines had held all of

the "Synchronized Worlds" in an iron grip for a thousand years.

Even so, clusters of free humans remained on the outskirts, bound together for

mutual protection, thorns in the sides of the thinking machines. Whenever attacks

came, the League of Nobles defended themselves effectively.

But new machine plans were always being developed.

When humans created a computer with the ability to collect information and

learn

from it,

they signed the death warrant of mankind

.

—SISTER BECCA THE FINITE

Salusa Secundus hung like a jeweled pendant in the desert of space, an oasis of

resources and fertile fields, peaceful and pleasing to the optic sensors. Unfortunately, it

was infested with feral humans.

The robotic fleet approached the capital world of the League of Nobles. Armored

warships bristled with weapons, weirdly beautiful with their reflective alloy coatings,

their adornments of antennae and sensors. Aft engines blazed pure fire, pushing the

vessels to accelerations that would have crushed mere biological passengers. Thinking

machines required no life-support or physical comfort. Currently, they were focused on

destroying the remnants of age-old human resistance on the wild outer fringes of the

Synchronized Worlds.

Inside his pyramid-shaped vessel, the cymek general Agamemnon led the attack.

Logical thinking machines did not care about glory or revenge. But Agamemnon

certainly did. Fully alert inside his preservation canister, his human brain watched the

plans unfold.

Ahead of him, the main fleet of robot warships swept into the human-infested

system, overwhelming the crews of sur prised sentry vessels like an avalanche out of

space. Human picket ships opened fire, defenders swept in to meet the oncoming

machine force. Five League sentry vessels fired off heavy salvos, but most of their

projectiles were too slow to hit the streaking inbound fleet. A handful of robotic vessels

were damaged or destroyed by lucky shots, and just as many human ships exploded in

flashes of incandescent vapor—not because they posed a particular threat, but because

they were in the way. Only a few distant scouts managed to transmit a warning toward

vulnerable Salusa Secundus. Robot battleships vaporized the diffuse inner perimeter of

human defenses, without even slowing on their way to their real goal. Shuddering under

extreme deceleration, the thinking-machine fleet would arrive not long after the warning

signal reached the capital world.

The humans would never have time enough to prepare. The robot fleet was ten

times the size and power of any force Omnius had ever before sent against the League

of Nobles. The humans had grown complacent, having faced no concentrated robotic

aggression during the last century of uneasy cold war. But machines could wait a long

time, and now Agamemnon and his surviving Titans would finally have their chance.

Revealed by a flurry of tiny machine spy probes, the League had recently installed

supposedly invincible defenses against gelcircuitry-based thinking machines. The

massive robot fleet would wait at a safe distance while Agamemnon and his small

vanguard of cymeks pressed forward on a mission, perhaps a suicidal one, to open the

door.

Agamemnon reveled in the anticipation. Already the hapless bio-logicals would be

sounding alarms, preparing defenses… cowering in fear. Through flowing electrafluid

that kept his disembodied brain alive, he transmitted an order to his cymek shock

troops. "Let us destroy the heart of the human resistance.

Forward

!"

For a thousand hellish years, Agamemnon and his Titans had been forced to serve

the computer evermind, Omnius. Chafing under their bondage, the ambitious but

defeated cymeks now turned their frustration against the League of Nobles. One day the

once-defeated general hoped to turn against Omnius himself, but thus far had seen no

opportunity.

The League had erected new scrambler shields around Salusa Secundus. Such fields

would destroy the sophisticated gelcircuitry of all AI computers—but human minds could

survive the passage. And though they had mechanical systems and interchangeable

robotic bodies, cy-meks still had human brains.

Thus, they could pass through the defensive shields unscathed.

Like a target behind crosshairs, Salusa Secundus filled Agamemnon's field of view.

With great attention to detail the general had studied tactical projections, applying the

military skills he'd developed over the centuries, along with an intuitive understanding of

the art of conquest. His abilities had once allowed a mere twenty rebels to take over an

empire… until they'd lost it all to Omnius.

Prior to launching this important attack, the computer evermind had insisted on

running simulation after simulation, trying to develop plans for every contingency.

Agamemnon, though, knew it was futile to plan too precisely when it came to unruly

humans.

Now, while the immense robot war fleet engaged the expected League orbital

defenses and perimeter ships, Agamemnon's mind probed outward from his sensor-

connected container, and he felt his guideship as an extension of his long-lost human

body. The integral weapons were part of himself. He saw with a thousand eyes, and the

powerful engines made him feel as if he had muscular legs again and could run like the

wind.

'Prepare for ground assault. Once our dropcarriages penetrate the Salusan defenses,

we must strike fast and hard." Recalling that watcheyes would record every moment of

the battle for the evermind's later scrutiny once the fleet returned, he added, "We will

sterilize this filthy planet for the glory of Omnius." Agamemnon slowed his descent, and

the others followed suit. "Xerxes, take the lead. Send in your neo-cymeks to draw their

fire and flush them out."

Hesitant as usual, Xerxes complained. "Will I have your full support as I go in? This

is the most dangerous part of—

Agamemnon silenced him. "Be grateful for this opportunity to prove yourself. Now

go! Every second you delay gives more time to the

hrethgir

." This was the derogatory

term that intelligent machines and their cymek lackeys used for human vermin.

Another voice crackled across the comlink: the robot operator of the machine fleet

battling the human protective force orbiting Salusa. "We await your signal, General

Agamemnon. Human resistance is intensi-fying."

'We're on our way," Agamemnon said. "Xerxes, do as I instructed!"

Xerxes, who always fell short of complete defiance, stifled further comment and

summoned three neo-cymeks, later-generation machines with human minds. The

quartet of pyramidal ships shut down their subsidiary systems, and their armored

dropcarriages fell unguided into the atmosphere. For a few dangerous moments they

would be easy targets, and the League's missile-and-aerial defenses might hit a few of

the cluster. But the dropcarriages' dense material shielding would protect them against

the brunt of the bombardment, keeping them intact even through a wild crash-landing

on the outskirts of the prime city of Zimia, where the main shield-generating towers

were located.

Thus far the League of Nobles had preserved unruly humanity against the organized

efficiency of Omnius, but the feral biologicals governed themselves ineffectively and

often disagreed over major decisions. As soon as Salusa Secundus was crushed, the

unstable alliance would disintegrate in a panic; resistance would crumble.

But first Agamemnon's cymeks had to shut down the scrambler shields. Then Salusa

would be defenseless and quivering, ready for the main robot fleet to deal the lethal

blow, like a huge mechanical boot squashing an insect.

The cymek leader jockeyed his dropcarriage into position, ready to lead the second

wave with the rest of the extermination fleet. Agamemnon switched off all computerized

systems and followed Xerxes down. His brain floated in limbo inside its preservation

canister. Blind and deaf, the general did not feel the heat or violent vibrations as his

armored craft roared toward the unsuspecting target.

The intelligent machine is an evil genie, escaped from its bottle.

—BARBAROSSA,

Anatomy

of a Rebellion

When Salusa's sensor network detected the arrival of the robotic war fleet, Xavier

Harkonnen took action immediately. Once again, the thinking machines meant to test

the defenses of free humanity.

Though he bore the rank of tercero in the Salusan Militia—the local, autonomous

branch of the overall League Armada—Xavier had not yet been born during the last real

skirmishes against League worlds. The most recent major battle had been nearly a

hundred years ago. After all these years, the aggressive machines might be counting on

soft human defenses, but Xavier swore they would fail.

'Primero Meach, we've received an urgent warning and a vidstream clip from one of

our peripheral scouts," he said to his commander. "But the transmission cut off."

'Look at them all!" squawked Quinto Wilby as he scanned images from the outlying

sensor network. The low-ranking officer stood with other soldiers at banks of instrument

panels inside a domed building. "Omnius never sent anything like this before."

Vannibal Meach, the short but loud-voiced primero of the Salusan Militia, stood in

the control center of the planet's defenses, coolly absorbing the flow of information.

"Our last report from the perimeter is hours old due to signal lag. By now they've

engaged our pickets, and they'll try to get closer. They'll fail, of course." Though this

was his first warning of the impending invasion, he reacted as if he had expected the

machines to arrive any day.

In the control room's illumination, Xavier's dark brown hair glinted with reddish

cinnamon highlights. He was a serious young man, prone to honesty and with a

tendency to see things in black and white. As a member of the third military ranking

tier, Tercero Harkonnen was Meach's backup commander of the local defense outposts.

Much admired by his superiors, Xavier had been promoted quickly; equally respected by

his soldiers, he was the sort of trusted man they would follow into battle.

Despite the sheer size and firepower of the robotic force, he willed himself to

calmness, then signaled for reports from the nearest picket ships and put the

spaceguard defense fleet on highest alert in close orbit. The warship commanders had

already called their crews to battle-ready status as soon as they'd heard the urgent

transmission from the now-destroyed scout ships.

Around Xavier, automated systems hummed with activity. Listening to the oscillating

sirens, the chatter of orders and status reports in the control room, he drew a slow

breath, prioritizing tasks. "We can stop them," he said. "We

will

stop them." His voice

carried a tone of firm command, as if he were much older than his years and

accustomed to battling Omnius every day. In reality, this would be his first engagement

with the thinking machines.

Years ago, his parents and older brother had been killed in a mar-rauding cymek

attack while en route from an inspection of family holdings on Hagal. The soulless

machine forces had always been a threat to the League Worlds, but the humans and

Omnius had maintained an uneasy peace for decades.

On a wall grid, a map of the Gamma Waiping system showed the orbital locations of

Salusa Secundus and six other planets, along with the deployment of sixteen patrol

battle groups and the vigilant picket ships that were scattered at random. Cuarto Steff

Young hurried to update the tactical projection, plotting her best guess of the location of

the approaching robot battle group.

'Contact Segundo Lauderdale, and call in all perimeter warships. Tell them to engage

and destroy any enemy they encounter," said Primero Meach, then he sighed. "It'll take

half a day at maximum acceleration to retrieve our heavy battle groups from the fringe,

but the machines might still be trying to get through by then. Could be a field day for

our guys." Cuarto Young followed the order with easy efficiency, dispatching a message

that would take hours to reach the outskirts of the system.

Meach nodded to himself, going through the much-drilled sequence. Always living

under the specter of the machines, the Salusan Militia trained regularly for every

scenario, as did Armada detachments for every major League system. "Activate the

Holtzman scrambler shields around the planet and issue warnings to all commercial air

and space traffic. I want the city's shield transmitter output up to full within ten

minutes."

'That should be enough to brain-fry any thinking machine gelcir-cuitry," Xavier said

with forced confidence. "We've all seen the tests." This,

however, is not just a test

.

Once the enemy encountered the defenses the Salusans had installed, he hoped

they would calculate their losses to be too heavy, and retreat. Thinking machines didn't

like to take risks.

He stared at a panel. But

there are so many of them

.

Then he straightened from his summary screens, full of bad news. "Primero Meach,

if our velocity data for the machine fleet is correct, even at deceleration speed, they are

traveling almost as fast as the warning signal we received from our scouts."

'Then they could already be here!" said Quinto Wilby.

Now Meach reacted with sharp alarm, triggering a full emergency alert. "Sound

evacuation orders! Open the underground shelters."

'Evacuation under way, sir," reported Cuarto Young moments later, her fingers

working the update panels as she spoke. The intent young woman touched a

communication wire at her temple. "We're sending Viceroy Butler all the information we

have."

Serena is with him at the Hall of Parliament

, Xavier realized, thinking of the Viceroy's

nineteen-year-old daughter. His heart clenched with concern for her, yet he did not dare

reveal his fear to his compatriots. Everything in its time and place.

In his mind he could see the many threads he needed to weave, doing his part while

Primero Meach directed the overall defense.

'Cuarto Chiry, take a squadron and escort Viceroy Butler, his daughter, and all of the

League representatives deep into the subterranean s ters.

'They should be heading there already, sir," the officer said. Xavier gave him a stiff

smile. "Do

you

trust politicians to do the smart thing first?" The cuarto ran to do as he

was told.

Most

histories are written by the winners of conflicts, but those written by the

losers

—

if they survive

—

are often more interesting

.

—IBLIS GINJO,

The Landscape of Humanity

Secundus was a green world of temperate climate, W»«,'home to hundreds of

millions of free humans in the League of Nobles. Abundant water flowed through open

aqueducts. Around the cultural and governmental center of Zimia, rolling hills were

embroidered with vineyards and olive groves.

Moments before the machine attack, Serena Butler stepped onto the oratory stage in

the great Hall of Parliament. Thanks to her dedicated public service, as well as special

arrangements made by her father, she had been granted this opportunity to address the

representatives.

Viceroy Manion Butler had privately counseled her to be subtle, to keep her points

simple. "One step at a time, dear one. Our League is held together only by the threat of

a common enemy, not by a set of shared values or beliefs. Never attack the lifestyles of

the nobles."

This was only the third speech of her brief political career. In her earlier addresses,

she had been overly strident—not yet understanding the ballet of politics—and her ideas

had been met with a mixture of yawns and good-natured chuckles at her naivete. She

wanted to end the practice of human slavery that had been adopted sporadically by

some League worlds; she wanted to make every human equal, to ensure that all were

fed and protected.

'Perhaps the truth hurts. I was trying to make them feel guilty."

'You only made them deaf to your words."

Serena had refined her speech to incorporate his advice, while still sticking to her

principles.

One step at a time

. And she, too, would learn with each step. On the advice

of her father, she had also spoken to like-minded representatives in private, rallying

some support and gaining a few allies ahead of time.

Lifting her chin, adjusting her expression to look authoritative rather than eager,

Serena positioned herself inside the recording shell that surrounded the podium like a

geodesic dome. Her heart swelled with all the good she might be able to do. She felt

warm light as the projection mechanism transmitted oversized images of her outside the

dome enclosure.

A small screen atop the podium allowed her to see herself as they did: a soft face of

classical beauty, with hypnotic lavender eyes and amber-brown hair highlighted by

natural golden strands. On her left lapel she wore a white rose floweret from her own

meticulously tended gardens. The projector made Serena look even more youthful, as

the mechanism had been adjusted by nobles to mask the effect of years on their own

features.

From his gilded box at the front of the audience, round-faced Viceroy Butler, in his

finest robes of gold and black, smiled proudly at his daughter. The sigil of the League of

Nobles adorned his lapel, an open human hand in gold outline, representing freedom.

He understood Serena's optimism, remembering similar ambitions in himself. He had

always been patient with her crusades, helping the young woman to rally disaster relief

for refugees of machine attacks, letting her journey to other planets to tend to the

injured, or dig through rubble and help rebuild burned buildings. Serena had never been

afraid to get her hands dirty.

'The narrow mind erects stubborn barriers," her mother had once told her. "But

against those barriers, words are formidable weapons."

On the floor of the great hall, dignitaries chatted in low tones. Several sipped drinks

or munched on snacks that had been delivered to their seats. Just another day in

Parliament. Comfortable in their villas and mansions, they would not welcome change.

But the possibility of bruised egos did not prevent Serena from saying what needed to

be said.

She activated the oratory projection system. "Many of you think I have foolish

notions because I am young, but perhaps the young have sharper eyesight, while the

old grow slowly blind. Am I foolish and naive—or have some of you, in pampered

complacency, distanced yourselves from humanity? Where do you fall on the spectrum

of what is right and wrong?"

Out in the assemblage she saw a flurry of indignation mixed with expressions of

rude dismissal. Viceroy Butler shot her a sharp glance of disapproval but transmitted a

quick reminder throughout the hall, asking for respectful attention, as would be

accorded any speaker.

She pretended not to notice. Couldn't they all see the larger picture? "We must each

look beyond ourselves if we are to survive as a species. Now is not the time for personal

selfishness. For centuries we have confined our defenses to a handful of key planets.

Though Omnius has launched no full-scale attack in decades, we live in the constant

shadow of the machine threat."

Touching pressure pads on the podium, Serena displayed a projection of the stellar

neighborhood, like a cluster of gems on the high ceiling. With a wand of light, she

pointed out the free League Worlds and the Synchronized Worlds ruled by thinking

machines. Then she brought her pointer to more extensive regions of the Galaxy where

neither organized humans nor machines held sway.

'Look at these poor Unallied Planets: scattered worlds like Harmon-thep, Tlulax,

Arrakis, IV Anbus, and Caladan. Because their sparse, insular human settlements are

not members of our League, they do not warrant our full military protection should they

ever be threatened—by machines or by other humans." Serena paused, letting the

audience absorb her words. "Many of our own people wrongly prey on those planets,

raiding them for slaves to be supplied to some League Worlds."

She caught the eye of the Poritrin representative, who scowled, knowing she was

talking about him. He responded loudly, interrupting her. "Slavery is an accepted

practice in the League. Lacking complex machines, we have no other choice to augment

our workforce." He looked smug. "Besides, Salusa Secundus itself kept a population of

Zen-sunni slaves for almost two centuries."

'We put a stop to that practice," Serena replied with considerable heat. "It took

some imagination and a willingness to change, but—"

Trying to head off a shouting match, the Viceroy stood. "Each League planet makes

its own determination of local customs, technology, and laws. We have a fearsome

enough enemy in the thinking machines without starting a civil war among our own

planets." His voice sounded paternal, just slightly chiding her to get back to her main

point.

Sighing but not surrendering, Serena adjusted the pointer so that the Unallied

Planets glowed on the ceiling. "Still, we can't ignore all these worlds—ripe resource-filled

targets, planets just waiting to be conquered by Omnius."

The Sergeant at Arms, on a tall chair off to one side, rapped his staff on the floor.

"Time." Easily bored, he rarely listened to speeches.

Serena continued in a rush, trying to finish her point without sounding strident. "We

know the thinking machines want to control the Galaxy, even though they have been

essentially quiescent for almost a hundred years. They have systematically taken over

every world in the Synchronized star systems. Do not be lulled by their seeming lack of

interest in us. We know they will strike again—but how, and where? Should we not

move before Omnius does?"

'What is it you

want

, Madame Butler?" one of the dignitaries inquired impatiently,

raising his voice, but not standing, as was customary. "Are you advocating some sort of

preemptive strike against the thinking machines?"

'We must seek to incorporate the Unallied Planets into the League, and stop

harvesting them for slaves." She jabbed her illuminated wand at the overhead

projection. "Bring them under our wing to increase our own strength, and theirs. We

would all benefit! I propose that we dispatch ambassadors and cultural attaches with

the express intent of forming new military and political alliances. As many as we can."

'And who will pay for all that diplomacy?"

'Time," the Sergeant at Arms repeated.

'She is allotted three extra minutes for rebuttal, since the representative from Hagal

has posed a question," Viceroy Butler said in an authoritative 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.

Brian Herbert & Kevin J. Anderson - Dune 10 - The Butlerian

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: