Editor's Note:

First off, I didn't write this. A friend did, and I edited it. Just making that clear right now.

This is a tribute to JA Baker's First Contact Series, in which the Cylon Six is crossed over and killed in many varied universes to great laughter and entertainment. My friend had the idea to put her in a galaxy where prophecy was a fact of life and the hatred of Thinking Machines more virulent than even the Colonials.

That's Right. Dune.

Enjoy, and do please let him know how he did. Honesty is appreciated. Thanks.

SUFFER NOT A MACHINE

Six lay dying in the center of the wreckage, sheltered from the insane heat of the sun in the blasted hull of one of the heavy raiders as she took an inventory of her damage: Ribs crushed, probably a collapsed lung, left leg broken and a piece of shrapnel in her belly.

Even with her advanced body, Six was nearly unconscious from blood loss.

She was one of the lucky ones.

Centurions, and pieces of Centurions lay everywhere, their metal shells punctured by the humans' weapons. The other bio-cylons had all perished so quickly- she was the last living thing for miles, and had nothing to do except wonder how all of this went so horribly wrong.

They had all been shocked when the exploring Baseship found such a vast network of human worlds. But they were so primitive- no computer technology, few nukes, only a handful of FTL capable ships- and they seemed to be in the middle of some kind of civil war. They should have been ripe for conquest, but as they traced the ships of the stronger faction back to what seemed to be their homeworld- an arid, windswept planet that seemed wholly unremarkable on the surface, everything went to hell.

They had landed a few heavy raiders, while setting up an outpost and preparing to take a few outlying settlements to use as a beachhead for their forces. No one saw or heard anything, beyond the whistle of the winds over sand and rock, until it grew louder, and the sky rained high explosives.

Then, the sounds came in plenty. The whistle of shells-now distinct from the wind, the whine of a beam weapon as it blew a hole through two Centurions at once, and lopped the arm off a Three, who began to scream. That was when Six was picked up by a blast wave and hurled under the shadow of a Heavy Raider, wounded and completely incapacitated. She could only watch, and listen.

Then, after all the Centurions had been destroyed, and the Raiders crippled, came again the whistling of the wind.

Though this time, it carried voices, chanting slowly,

"Muad'dib…Muad'dib…Muad'dib…"

Six saw the remaining bio-cylons pull out small pistols, and start edging closer together.

Then they had appeared, as if conjured there. There were dozens of them, clad in tan cloaks over form-fitting grey jumpsuits with tubes running to the mouth and nose, armed with strangely shaped knives and large pistols.

Worst of all, they had appeared less than fifty yards from the Cylons' position.

The thirty or so survivors bunched together, wounded in the center, as the humans watched, one of them-obviously a leader, unsheathed his knife and held it skyward, as if calling for a benediction from God.

"For Muad'dib!" he shouted, "For Jihad!"

"For Muad'dib!" echoed the crowd.

One of the Cylons, a Doral, impeccably clad in a stylish blue suit now ruined by dust gave a smug grin, unsafed his pistol, and coolly shot the man. As he crumpled, the crowd gave a feral roar-

"MUAD'DIB!"

And surged forward.

Six passed out to the sounds of gunfire, screams, and knives tearing into flesh.

When consciousness returned a short while later, the Cylon was so delirious from the heat and pain, she was certain the small black shape coming towards her was simply a mirage- until it walked to a nearby Leoben who was still moving fitfully and slit his throat. It knelt by her, and began to speak.

"It" was a child no older than Hera, wrapped in a formless black cloak revealing nothing but her face- but her eyes, those terrible blue eyes that stared at her with a mix of pity and amusement- they spoke of a mind older than the Cylons or the Colonies.

"My brother knew of your kind's return, machine woman. You were why the galaxy burned in the Jihad- why Kobol destroyed all knowledge of its location to save itself after Richese and Ix betrayed her to save themselves. He knew you would return to try and destroy us again- so he prepared."

The girl smiled a smile that did not belong on a face as young as hers.

"We have no need of your tainted water, Abomination."

Six tried to speak, but the girl merely shook her head, continuing in an eerily soothing voice,

"You need not suffer much longer- Shai-Hulud will be here soon. He will wipe away all trace of your arrival and your passing- and when your brethren come looking for you, they shall find Muad'dib waiting with his armies. You will meet Desert Power, and you and your kind shall burn. I have seen it."

Then she left, moving with a strange, stumbling walk that took her out of Six's field of view. As she lay back, exhausted, dying and wondering if the Resurrection Ship would be close enough, Six finally felt the rumbling in the ground beneath her…

-End-