Navigators of Dune

by Brian Herbert

  She pressed, “I could be a good mother, I know I could. Wouldn’t you like to be a father? Doesn’t that sound exciting?”

  Erasmus remembered Serena Butler, the human female he had admired as an intellectual sparring partner. The thinking machines had taken her prisoner while pregnant, and he had learned much about humankind from her. But after giving birth to the needy, crying, helpless baby, Serena’s personality changed. She became argumentative and far less interesting. That baby ruined the close and intimate relationship they’d had. The child had, in fact, become such an interference to his goals that Erasmus finally threw the disruptive infant off a high balcony.…

  No, he did not want children of his own, but he was wise enough to keep such comments to himself. “I’ll have one of the Tlulaxa doctors test you immediately. They can verify whether or not you are pregnant.”

  With a contented smile, Anna lay back on the bed.

  Erasmus worked to keep a reflexive expression of concern off his face. If Anna Corrino were indeed carrying a fertilized embryo, he would order the Tlulaxa doctors to terminate it quickly and quietly, before she knew it was there.

  Opposing powers and ideologies will lead to inevitable clashes, but even with vast ideological differences, rational minds can invariably find common ground, given sufficient incentive. It is not possible, however, to negotiate with a madman.

  —DIRECTEUR JOSEF VENPORT, statement to VenHold Spacing Fleet on the evacuation of Kolhar

  Arrakis remained a hardscrabble world with rugged inhabitants who had learned how to survive there. Now the desert planet would be Josef’s sanctuary, and he damn well wasn’t going to let anyone strike him here. After fleeing from the holocaust, he ordered the recall of all of his remaining forces to protect the spice operations as well as his refugee Navigators and other VenHold personnel.

  He still could not wrap his mind around what had happened: Kolhar was destroyed! The Butlerians had used forbidden atomics!

  In warfare, in business, and in politics there were rules of civilized behavior. In humanity there were expectations. But these savages were not civilized; they barely qualified as human. After seeing what they had done, Josef was even more convinced that the half-Manford and his insane followers would destroy the human race if left unchecked. Mankind had accomplished too much over the millennia, built too much, created too much to let a wild mob tear it all down. Josef knew that he had to win this war.

  And if Emperor Roderick would not stand up to them, then Josef would have to find some way to do it himself. He refused to let the march of history simply head off a cliff.

  Manford had bombarded a settled planet with nuclear weapons, bringing about a catastrophe as had not been seen since the end of the Jihad. The madman! Such weapons were as reviled in the Imperium as the thinking machines themselves. Did Manford think the Emperor would simply ignore this? Roderick would be forced to turn against the Butlerians now.

  Josef clung to that hope. This would be the tipping point indeed—it had to be.

  He was wounded to the core, and not even Cioba’s well-practiced Sisterhood skills could begin to soothe him. He took comfort in telling himself that he would send his large force of cymek war machines to Lampadas, where they would exterminate every last one of the antitechnology fanatics. In fact, he thought with a razor smile, once he overwhelmed that planet, he would make it his new headquarters. An eye for an eye, and more.

  “You underestimated your enemy,” Cioba said as their flagship drifted in Arrakis orbit, joining the other defensive forces there.

  “I underestimated the extent of their madness; that was my mistake. I will never discount their state of mind again. I would rather destroy them down to the last follower than try to understand their motives.”

  As Josef gazed out at all the ships he had rescued from Kolhar, thanks to Norma’s prescient warning, he knew they would form a formidable defense here. His ship captains had orders to immediately attack and destroy any Butlerian vessel that dared to approach the desert planet.

  Josef could not overlook the possibility that the legless leader might have more warheads.

  He could not tell whether even these remaining ships would be sufficient to defend Arrakis if Emperor Roderick decided to launch a full-scale invasion to recapture the spice operations. Josef didn’t know what to believe anymore. The universe had gone berserk.

  Were the Emperor and Manford Torondo working together as part of a secret plan? Had Roderick himself authorized the use of atomics?

  No, that Josef could not accept. Roderick Corrino was not perfect, but he was still the man Josef had hoped would restore civilization. And the use of atomics would unravel the fabric of society, including everything House Corrino stood for. Roderick would never have authorized their use. It was unimaginable.

  Josef suspected the Emperor didn’t even know how the Butlerians had destroyed Kolhar. He had probably been told a lie. But the man needed to understand what the fanatics had done.

  “My Navigators require ships,” Norma Cenva said from her tank. “My Navigators require spice. You know this, Josef. We have been hurt badly.”

  “We hold Arrakis, Grandmother, and I do not intend to lose it. This will be our base of operations now, the most defended planet in the Imperium. You will have your spice.”

  “We rescued scores of Navigators from Kolhar, and I will guide and nurture them,” Norma pressed. “Others will require vessels. The universe is ours—if you provide us with ships. With Navigators and ships, your fleet will be stronger.”

  Josef smiled as the solution came to him. “I’ll have the ships for you soon. They are at Denali—another forty ships, old thinking-machine vessels. At this moment they are being fitted with Holtzman engines. When ready, each one will be guided by a Navigator. Is that acceptable?”

  She drifted in her tank. “I will send Navigators to Denali to retrieve them. Yes, forty more ships are a step in the right direction.”

  * * *

  AS THEIR SHUTTLE descended to Arrakis City, Josef sat beside Cioba, trying to control his anger. He would not lose any more ground. He would put an entire crew of his rescued Kolhar employees to work in the spice operations and increase production at all costs. He would find more VenHold ships to add to the defenses that were already here. Arrakis would be utterly secure.

  He growled, “I lost my banks because of the Emperor, and I lost Kolhar because of the barbarians. I will never give up my spice operations here!”

  “No, my husband.” Cioba sounded confident. “We will not.”

  His company had suffered a giant blow with the destruction of the spice stockpile, but Josef had ordered his Mentat administrators to dispatch all harvesting teams. They had scoured the Arrakis City repair yards and placed every available piece of factory equipment into service, even the older, inefficient harvesters. Josef intended to rebuild his supplies of melange, and his fortune. Once he satisfied the desperate Navigators, any surplus would be sold at exorbitant prices to the wealthiest addicts in the Imperium. Under the circumstances, it appeared to be the only way VenHold could restore its finances.

  The Arrakis City spaceport was relatively calm after the VenHold crackdown on the Imperials and black marketeers, but it was still a lawless zone. Smugglers had begun to encroach on the new spice operations again, but Josef would put an end to that quickly and severely. He could no longer afford to be tolerant. He put all of his operations on high alert.

  He and Cioba arrived at the fortress headquarters of Combined Mercantiles, whereupon he summoned Rogin and Tomkir. Josef sat tensely in the meeting chamber. “I need to leverage the disaster we just suffered on Kolhar—to open the Emperor’s eyes.” Even in the hurricane of defeat and devastation, Josef Venport could see opportunities.

  Cioba and the two Mentats looked surprised, but he did not doubt himself. “Think about it. Manford Torondo just changed this conflict in a fundamental way. He stepped over a line that should never have been crossed. Suddenly, we are
the victims, the horrendously wronged party for all to see. What that madman did at Kolhar exceeded his worst crimes on other planets. This was a crime against humanity itself.” Josef’s voice rose. “By using forbidden atomics, the half-Manford shows that he must not be allowed to exist in any civilized society. Yes, I know Emperor Roderick hates me, but he must be made to hate this more.”

  He looked around the room. “We have to make him see that I am not the threat he should fear most. I am the reasonable alternative who will ensure stability and the future of humanity.” He turned to Cioba. “I’ve got to talk with Roderick Corrino face-to-face and clarify the situation for him. It is critically important.”

  “But you have already asked for that repeatedly,” Cioba said. “He never agreed. You tried to force him to concede with your siege of Salusa, and now he will not even talk with you.”

  Josef took her hands in his, giving and receiving strength. “Then we have to change his mind—and for that I need you.”

  “Me? How can I help?”

  “You were trained in the Sisterhood. Even if they spurned our offer of an alliance, you can still use the skills you learned. Go to Salusa and find a way to deliver a message to Roderick. Tell him I request a détente meeting, here in orbit above Arrakis. It is not exactly neutral ground, but considering recent events, I will not make myself any more vulnerable. He can bring whatever security he deems necessary. But we must have a discussion.”

  “Will he listen?” asked Tomkir.

  “Manford Torondo just proved he is a mad dog with no respect for the laws or morals of humankind. How many more atomics do the Butlerians possess? Enough to threaten Salusa Secundus itself? What is to stop them from unleashing atomics on the capital world if Manford is displeased with the Emperor? Roderick knows it is a valid possibility. No matter what the Emperor thinks of me, surely he’ll be more frightened of the Butlerians.” He flashed a hard smile. “I’ll offer to destroy Manford Torondo for him, if he will grant me amnesty.” In fact, he would relish the job.

  Cioba pondered. “What if the Emperor still believes you want to take his throne?”

  Josef placed his fist on the table in the conference room. “No one but a deluded fool would want to be the Emperor of the Imperium. Roderick himself never wanted it, and I don’t want it either.” He beseeched Cioba. “Make him see that. Convince him that this is a sincere offer and not a trick.”

  She rose from the table. “I shall do my best, Josef. I’ll use everything I learned from the Sisterhood—and Fielle can affirm the truth of my words. If Norma Cenva will guide a ship, I’ll depart for Salusa immediately.”

  If you perceive that a person holds power over you, whether or not it is true, then your weakness is very real.

  —MANFORD TORONDO, final Lampadas rally

  The atomic cleansing of Kolhar had blistered the face of the planet and erased Venport’s machine contamination. As far as Manford was concerned, the nuclear blasts had forever ended the hubris of that godless man. Venport was on the run, and soon he would be completely defeated. Any VenHold remnants elsewhere in the Imperium would be hunted down and dealt with as a matter of priority.

  After that was accomplished, Manford would solidify his political influence and ensure that Emperor Roderick ruled with the proper mindset. The soul of humanity would be saved, at last.

  Sitting in a custom chair at the window of his office on the fourth floor, Manford’s heart swelled with joy. He had not felt such perfect satisfaction in a very long time. The spirit of Rayna Butler must be watching over him with pride, and he kept her beautiful icon painting close.

  As his victorious Butlerian ships returned to Lampadas, the size of the crowds astonished even him. So many people! More than half a million souls had gathered from all across the world, and more had emigrated from other planets, just to be closer to him. Warm tears filled his eyes, and his heart pounded as if it might burst from his chest.

  Beside him, Anari Idaho gazed out the window at the incredible gathering, as if vindicated that Manford had finally received his due. His look-alike double wanted to go out to be seen by the public, to “take the risk” among so many people, but Manford knew there was no real danger to his person. He sent the body double away and out of sight; the real Butlerian leader would face his followers himself.

  Even after such a resounding success at Kolhar, Deacon Harian remained grim. “There will be hell to pay because of the atomics. The Emperor will not ignore it, and people will hate what you have done.”

  “Some have always hated what I do, but I do what is necessary anyway.”

  Anari added, “The battle for the human soul is not an easy one. We will silence those who complain too loudly.”

  Manford left unsaid: Even Emperor Roderick.

  Now, when he looked out the high window at the throngs crowded across Empok, their faces uplifted in a delirious hope of glimpsing him, he knew that every one of them would forfeit their lives in service to his goals—Rayna Butler’s goals. By carrying her eternal message, he possessed a weapon far more powerful than atomics.

  Uniformed men stood around the Butlerian headquarters. So many pilgrims had arrived in recent weeks that guards had to drive the supplicants away, sometimes using brutal measures. New converts and avid recruits flocked to Lampadas, filling the city to capacity, straining its resources. Manford had returned from the cleansing of Kolhar with tens of thousands of additional followers who had joined him at Salusa Secundus.

  Beside him at the window, Anari stared across an endless sea of faces. “You can feel the waves of their devotion, Manford. They want you to lead them to more victories. They want you to save them.”

  “I will save them, in whatever way I can. Our numbers swell with every triumph.”

  His clashes with Venport had been an extremely effective recruiting tool. The ultimate victory of the Butlerian movement was all but ensured now, but Manford secretly wondered what he would do after he won this struggle for the soul of humanity. Alas, the war would never be completely won, for humans would always be weak and unreliable, and their doubts would open them to new dangers against which Manford would have to protect them.

  Anari continued to stare. “Of all your followers on planets across the Imperium, you know that I am the most devoted.” She turned to him with those wide, guileless eyes that seemed to open straight to her faithful heart.

  “I’ve never harbored any doubts of that, Anari.” He wondered why she felt any need to remind him of her dedication. “No one else comes close.”

  Deacon Harian bustled back in with sweat glistening on his bald pate. “Security informs me the crowd is getting restless. They clamor to see you. They need to see you.”

  “Then I shall give them what they require. I’ll both inspire and calm them.” He did not reveal his concerns, though. These people were angry and ready to do something, anything. After Kolhar, their emotions burned like a wildfire that could slip out of his control. He needed to direct the explosion away from himself, somehow.

  He remembered what had happened during the rampage festival in Zimia. The death of little Nantha Corrino had damaged the trusting relationship he should have had with the Emperor; no memorial statue, however large, would make up for it. The victory at Kolhar would not last these Butlerians for long. They needed to be unleashed elsewhere.

  Anari fitted the saddle-harness onto her shoulders and lifted him without the necessity of asking permission, then settled him into place. She looked up at him. “Are you ready to receive their applause, Manford?”

  “Yes. It is what they need.”

  The Butlerian security troops cleared a path, and announcements rippled across the city. With Deacon Harian beside them, Anari strode out of the headquarters into the sunlight and the roar of the adoring crowd.

  Earlier, Manford had reconsidered bringing out his stand-in for at least the beginning of the event. The designated body double looked very much like him, a man so devoted that he’d voluntarily let h
is legs be amputated so he could serve the Butlerian cause. The duplicate was his public face in dangerous situations.

  But today Manford knew that his followers would have noticed the subtle difference in his appearance and voice. They needed him in person. That other legless man, the backup, could be used under lesser circumstances, where he was only seen from a distance or inside a carriage, but not here. Today, on this momentous occasion, no cheap substitute would do.

  A thunderous wave of cheers buffeted him on Anari’s shoulders. Manford raised his hands, and the thunder grew even louder.

  For a moment, unwanted thoughts about Erasmus and his forbidden journals slid insidiously into his mind, intrusive images of the diabolical thinking machine that had enslaved and tortured so many humans. Erasmus had loved to stand before throngs of oppressed captives. But Manford knew those downtrodden people had never cheered the evil machine like this. Erasmus had never been beloved; he had simply been feared.

  He remembered what the robot had written. “Humans are a resource, a tool, a weapon—but only if used properly. I continue to study methods of manipulating their emotions, their biological programming. At best they are flawed tools and weak weapons. But there are so many of them.”

  There are so many of them.

  Manford smiled at the crowd of admirers. He spotted Headmaster Zendur and scores of new, approved students from the reformed Mentat School. The rest of these followers came from other worlds, pilgrims who journeyed to Lampadas to prove their devotion for him. This planet could not support them for long. They would have to be unleashed elsewhere, and soon.

  “My friends and followers,” he said, “you gladden my soul. You make me certain that we will win the final battle.”

  The tumult of cheers died to a surprisingly quiet murmur. His voice was broadcast on speakers across the city. It was abhorrent advanced technology, he knew, but necessary, and Manford had given a special dispensation to the Committee of Orthodoxy, asserting that such communications systems were vital to the Butlerian movement and therefore approved.