Navigators of Dune

by Brian Herbert

  Vor liked this room because it was one of several that had an emergency escape hatch on the rear wall. When he’d broken his way inside and checked the rear exit, he was quite satisfied. The back hatch led out into an adjacent tunnel and up to the desolate surface.

  On the bunk, Willem fell into a fitful sleep, but Vor remained alert, staring at the motionless holoprojection of the tunnels. Watching.

  * * *

  OUTSIDE, THE REMAINING members of the Sisterhood squads slid invisibly through the ruddy gloom, converging on the scavenger settlement. The women had discovered numerous ways into the warren settlement, but now they focused on a rarely used venting system that granted them access to the tunnels.

  When Valya, Tula, and two other commando Sisters passed through a nondescript hatch into the deep protected rooms below, Tula entered before her sister. Valya glanced behind her into the brooding night, then entered and closed the hatch quietly behind them. The team descended into the complex, reaching the corridors of barricaded sleeping rooms.

  Working with nimble fingers, Sister Ninke used tools to disconnect the crude alarm system from the first sealed door. After finishing, she stepped back to let one of the other commandos open it carefully. Even with the security systems disabled, the old salvaged door squeaked.

  Inside the dim room, two figures stirred, men who reacted to the unexpected noise, but not fast enough. In a blur, Cindel fell on the first man with her dagger, while Valya slipped past them and killed the second man. The men hardly uttered any sounds. Valya could not afford an alarm being sounded now.

  Illuminating a small handlight, Tula shone a glow into the faces of the two victims, but both were older, dark-skinned men. Neither was an Atreides, but Valya had not expected the mission to be so easy.

  Moving through the room, she opened the opposite door that led into the larger complex. Down the passageway, she spotted other stealthy figures moving. Good, another of her commando squads had already gotten inside, and moments later she received a signal confirming that the third one had entered as well. They began the full search.

  Now they could all hunt, and soon the task would be completed. They would find the two Atreides quickly enough.

  * * *

  AFTER SITTING MOTIONLESS, awake but drifting into a meditative state, Vor snapped to full awareness when he saw a flicker of motion on the holo-image. Sleek, dark shapes were moving through the enclave—where they definitely did not belong. He nudged Willem, put a hand over the young man’s mouth as he awoke, and pointed at the display.

  Willem silently grabbed his weapons kit from the alcove. Vor already had his. They were both ready. The two men watched the female shapes glide like oil through the tunnels to converge outside Vor’s previous room. The dark figures paused, regrouped, and then forced their way inside.

  Vor gripped his weapons, knowing that the chamber was empty. Moments later, the dark-garbed women were back outside, huddling together in obvious confusion. Then they began hunting again.

  “Be ready,” he whispered. Willem was perspiring and breathing unevenly as he tried to keep himself calm. “I knew they’d come.”

  The images were dark and indistinct, but Vor decided one figure clearly resembled Tula Harkonnen; if it was Tula, then Valya might be with her, to make certain the attack was successful. He was hoping for that.

  Watching them, he decided to take action of his own. He had planned for this. Counting down the seconds, he touched a trigger to activate explosives he’d implanted in the walls. The roar of the detonation sent shock waves through the tunnels. On the portable screen, he saw dark-clad bodies slamming into the walls … and then sections of the unstable tunnels sliding down in collapse.

  Korla and the rest of the scavengers would be awake now. Vor needed to take charge of the crisis.

  In the flickering projection on the damaged imager, Vor saw several of the strangers lying motionless, while others bounded away. He had not expected to kill them all; this was just the first step, but he was ready to deal with them. He counted three bodies, wasn’t sure who they were, but hoped …

  Willem looked at him with shining eyes. “For Orry.”

  Vor nodded. “Let’s go.”

  One of the surviving women discovered the implanted imager. She scanned the device, followed the signal, and then plucked it out of the wall. Just before the holo dissolved into a smoke of static, Vor saw her point down the tunnels toward his hiding place. The commandos raced along the passageway, heading in his direction. Then the screen showed nothing but static.

  Cursing, Vor grabbed his companion’s arm and pushed him toward the rear escape hatch and out into the side corridor. Willem gasped as they ran, “Did you see them? What sort of weapons do they have?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but I don’t like what I saw.”

  Underground alarms sounded; bright amber lights strobed inside the stairwells. Vor and Willem fled in silence. Reaching the last doorway at the top of the steep stairwell, they burst outside onto the rubble-strewn surface. Under the starry night of Corrin, the rough landscape appeared even more otherworldly than in daylight. Vor hurried Willem to the other side of a slag pile, where they hid. His ship wasn’t far away, out in the open, but he had no intention of running now that he had lured the Harkonnens here.

  Before long, he heard a voice call out. “Vorian Atreides, this is Valya Harkonnen. Your traps and tricks can’t stop us. Enough running. It’s time to face the justice you deserve—to bring honor back to our house and death to yours.”

  Vor and Willem both withdrew compact projectile pistols from their weapons kits and prepared to fire.

  “You could keep hiding,” Valya shouted, “or you could come out and accept our challenge. You know that’s the way it’s destined to be, Atreides—us against you. Do you accept, or are you cowards?”

  In the moonlight, Vor spotted the two Harkonnen women in dark singlesuits, while four other women emerged behind them. He wondered how many more there were.

  He could see how much Willem wanted to fight them, win or lose. Vor felt the same—but what about the other Sister commandos out there? Valya had undoubtedly brought the best with her. He doubted if Griffin’s sister would truly accept a fair duel, without reinforcements to interfere if he and Willem were to get the upper hand.

  And the two Atreides were here alone.

  Before he could respond, Vor heard many more voices—men and women. In the moonlight he saw the burly form of Korla of Corrin striding out, garbed in her shimmering flowmetal cape. Many angry scavengers accompanied her, well armed with large projectile rifles. Their powerful illuminators bathed the stark area in bright light.

  “Who the hell are you?” Korla demanded of Valya and her companions. Her unkempt, patchy black hair gave her an even wilder appearance than usual. “And why are you here?”

  Valya looked at her haughtily. “I am the Mother Superior of the Sisterhood. I have a rightful vendetta against two fugitives you are harboring.”

  “And I am the ruler of this world, and we care nothing about your laws or your vendetta,” Korla growled. “This is Corrin.”

  “I issued a challenge to Vorian and his ward. The Atreides must pay for Vorian’s crimes against my House. My sister and I will fight them in personal combat and settle this dispute here and now—without your interference.”

  When Korla turned, her flowmetal cape flickered and twitched. “This is my world, and I’ll interfere in any damned manner I like.”

  Vor emerged from concealment with Willem beside him, drawing their attention. “Korla of Corrin, if we can count on your people to prevent those other women from attacking us, we’ll face the two who challenge us. It’s what they want … and what I want. I see no other way to end this bitter feud. The Harkonnens have hated me unjustly for eight decades. But the reality is here nonetheless, and I am prepared to deal with it.”

  Korla snorted. “And what did he do to deserve such anger? Is he a lover who jilted you?”

&
nbsp; Valya’s face flared with disgust. “He killed my brother Griffin.”

  Knowing it would do no good against her hatred, Vor stated simply, “I did not harm your brother. He was my friend. I tried to save him.”

  She looked sick. “You lie, Atreides.”

  Surprisingly, Sister Cindel, the Truthsayer, frowned. Her brow furrowed. “Mother Superior … he is telling the truth. There is no falsehood in his statement.”

  Vor lifted his chin, remained where he was. “As I said, I didn’t kill Griffin.” He fully expected her next to charge him with falsely accusing Abulurd Harkonnen of cowardice at the end of the Butlerian Jihad, but for some reason she didn’t mention that.

  Valya swayed, as if suddenly trying to recover her balance, but then her own determination made her straighten. “I still do not believe it. Vorian Atreides has poisoned my own Truthsayer.”

  “I expected nothing else from you,” Vor said. He couldn’t even feel disappointed. “You’re so set on revenge.”

  “We are both going to fight you!” Willem insisted, glaring at Tula. “You did kill my brother.”

  The Queen of Trash looked around at her people. Just behind her, Vor also spotted the wiry woman he had rescued from the flowmetal flood. Horaan Eshdi’s eyes shone in the light of the illuminators. “We have little enough entertainment here,” Korla said. “Let’s watch them fight.”

  The scavengers muttered agreement.

  Vor stepped forward with Willem at his side. Valya and Tula Harkonnen stood together, with the other dark-garbed women arranged behind them like primed weapons. Vor thought the remaining Sisters might be able to break through any resistance the scavengers tried to mount, but the number of people and weapons would at least make them think twice. Korla’s workers tightened ranks around the other Sisters, even pushing them back.

  For now, the tableau was Vor’s to command.

  Holstering his projectile pistol, he whispered to Willem, “They are able to move in a blur and use techniques you have never seen.” He strode toward Valya, suspecting that she carried concealed weapons, but he had his own as well. He had never expected this to be a fair fight.

  Curiously, Tula hung back, so Vor motioned for Willem to do the same, even though the murderous young woman was the one they had been hunting all along. He heard the low voices of the scavenger crowd, but the other Sisters remained where they were, blocked from the combat arena.

  Vor saw no reason to delay. This confrontation had been coming to a head for years. As the red-giant dawn tinged the sky, he and Valya circled each other slowly and warily, crouched in fighting stances on the rubble of the once-great machine city.

  The duel consumed his awareness, sharpened his senses. He watched his nemesis with intense concentration, saw a muscle twitch in one of her arms, but did not react. She was testing him. He discerned what could be a dagger concealed at her hip. He had no doubt Valya would use it if she saw the opportunity.

  Valya darted toward him, and he slipped sideways quickly to let her pass, but he did not whirl to face where he thought she should be. Instead, remembering the tricks Griffin Harkonnen had used during their combat, he dropped to the ground and rolled in Valya’s direction before popping back up to his feet, hoping that he had chosen correctly.

  Somehow, Valya materialized several paces to his left. For an instant that lasted no longer than a caught breath, she seemed to wait for him to make the next move.

  Behind him, to his concern, he realized that Willem and Tula were beginning their own combat. Vor had fought Tula once at an inn on Caladan just after she murdered Orry. Vor had barely survived the confrontation. He feared for Willem’s life now, but he could not let his attention stray from his own opponent.

  During his flicker of hesitation, Valya flung herself into the air, and kicked him in the middle of his chest. Vor staggered backward. When she charged toward him to finish the attack, he savagely kicked her legs out from under her. Valya crashed to the ground with a look of surprise and irritation on her face.

  Vor’s chest screamed in pain, but he kept his expression neutral and eyes alert as she bounded to her feet, ready to go after him again. Looking up from her apparent vulnerability, she spoke in a strange, throaty voice: “When I come toward you this time, your muscles will freeze.”

  At her eerie, commanding tone, Vor suddenly found he could not move. It was as if his body had turned to stone, a frightening, uncontrolled sensation. By concentrating, though, he managed to break free of whatever strange hold she had inflicted upon him. Realizing that the attack was only in his mind, he forced it aside. Valya’s look of confidence faded as she saw him slide to his left, on the move again and ready to counterattack.

  Just then the sharp report of a projectile gun rang out, and Valya saw her sister fall. She whirled and let out a sudden cry. “No!”

  Tula writhed on the ground, and Willem loomed over her, his projectile weapon drawn and his face dark with hatred. Blood flowed from her left shoulder, and one arm hung useless. Tula struggled back to her feet, drew a dagger with her good arm, and faced him defiantly. Her face showed anger and pride … but also something else, something softer?

  “What kind of monster pretends to love a man just to murder him?” Willem demanded. “My brother loved you—a Harkonnen!”

  Valya snarled and tried to lunge toward her sister, but Vor threw himself against her to stop her from interfering.

  Willem raised the projectile weapon again.

  Sometimes victory is achieved in a surprising fashion, but I embrace it nevertheless, no matter the method or the circumstances.

  —EMPEROR RODERICK CORRINO I, private conversation with Haditha

  When he arrived above the dark, mist-shrouded research planet, Roderick was pleased with the impressive fleet he had assembled on such short notice. Venport would not possibly be expecting them.

  The foldspace carriers emerged, and the swarm of Imperial warships dropped out of the enormous holding bays and raced toward Denali, side by side. They were ready to fight.

  From the bridge of Harte’s flagship, Roderick was surprised to see that Directeur Venport had assembled an unexpectedly robust defensive net, considering how many warships he had lost at Lampadas, as well as the force he had diverted to protect his Arrakis operations.

  The Emperor stood with his hands behind his back. “Apparently he did not assume he was safe hiding here after all.”

  On the bridge beside him, Admiral Harte offered a small smile. “The most important part, Sire, is that our ships outnumber theirs, and we have greater overall firepower. It will be a challenge, but we will defeat them.”

  Roderick hoped the Admiral was right. He was uneasy that they had left Salusa more vulnerable than he would have liked, but his real enemy, the last remaining thorn in his side, was right here in front of him. As soon as Venport Holdings was broken, Roderick could create a new commercial network to conduct trade throughout the Imperium. He envisioned a golden age, without Butlerian resistance to common technology and without Josef Venport’s ruthless business practices.

  Much blood had been shed already, and it would not be an easy victory. Scars would remain for a long time.

  “Don’t underestimate them,” Roderick warned. “If Venport has weapons laboratories down there, he may well have surprises for us.” Now that the man had been betrayed, wounded, and backed into a corner, he would be enraged, desperate, and unpredictable, and that made him especially dangerous.

  Harte said, “Our shields are up, Sire, and the VenHold ships ahead of us also have full Holtzman shields.” He paused to let the import sink in. “At Lampadas, Sire, the Butlerians used lasguns to fire upon shields. It was sheer suicide … but what if Venport is desperate enough to resort to such tactics?”

  The Emperor shook his head. “Not a chance. The Directeur may be ruthless, but he is neither irrational nor suicidal.”

  Like a noose tightening around Denali, the Imperial fleet closed in. The VenHold ships displayed arra
ys of glowing weapons ports as they prepared to make their last stand. The clustered ships hung motionless in orbit, and Roderick waited for Venport to acknowledge that he had lost, though the Emperor did not hold much hope for that.

  He has Anna down there. Roderick was sure Venport would try to use her life to buy his own.

  Impatient, he opened a broad channel. “Directeur Josef Venport, if you surrender yourself and deliver my sister unharmed, we can end this without further loss of life.” He realized this situation was a complete turnabout from when VenHold ships had placed Salusa Secundus under siege. “If you wish to prove your mettle by fighting us, it will be a bloody battle, but most of the blood will be yours. Make no mistake about it, we will prevail. As a logical businessman, you should know when to cut your losses.”

  Venport finally appeared on the screen, speaking to them from a sealed chamber in the laboratory domes below. He was dressed impeccably, his reddish hair perfect, but Roderick noticed his face looked somewhat haggard. The Directeur narrowed his blue-eyed gaze, showed a flash of anger. “Manford Torondo was willing to speak any lie, provided it met his needs—I expected that of him. But you broke your word as well, Roderick Corrino. We had a deal. I used my company military force to crush the Butlerians, and then your fleet attacked us when we were weakened. Why should I trust anything you say after that betrayal?”

  Roderick pressed his lips into a firm line. “Admiral Harte was out of contact and operating under previous standing orders. When his fleet arrived at Lampadas, he was unaware of our bargain. His attack on you was truly the result of an unfortunate misunderstanding. I did not intend it to happen, and I might even have been willing to apologize.” He hardened his voice. “Until you revealed that you have been holding my sister hostage, that you knew where she was all along. You should not be so ready to point your finger at me, Directeur.” He raised his voice, speaking with the authority of an Emperor. “Let me speak to Anna. Now.”

  Venport appeared unimpressed. “Your sister recorded a message for you. Listen to her own words.” Without further preamble, he transmitted a recording.