Mentats of Dune

by Brian Herbert

  Talking to her through the minuscule speakerpatches near her bed, he explained, “This is my special companion, Anna. It will snuggle inside your ear canal and let us communicate whenever you need to hear from me.”

  Trusting him completely, she placed the small silver robot next to her ear, and the insectlike machine crawled inside to where it could touch her auditory nerve and transmit signals. Erasmus wished he could read her thoughts, but this was the next best thing.

  “I knew you’d come back to me, Hirondo,” she said, sighing.

  “I have always lived within you,” he answered, not wanting to disillusion her. “And now we can be together always. I am your closest, most loyal friend—don’t ever forget that.” He realized that, even though this was all just a grand experiment, the statement might be true—Anna had no other close friends.

  Erasmus worried that she would speak aloud to him as she mingled with the Mentat students. But Anna Corrino was already considered odd, and her quiet mutterings would only enhance that impression.

  The young woman walked along the corridors and across walkways to the observation deck and looked out at the sangrove thickets that made the near lakeshore an impenetrable maze. “When you’re this close to me, Hirondo, I love you even more. We can remember things together, plan for our future together.”

  Erasmus was surprised, but pleased. Love. The human emotion had always eluded him, despite his many attempts to understand its complexities. He and Gilbertus had a relationship of mutual affection in which the human called him “Father,” but that was quite different from the feelings Anna still had for her lost lover. Now Erasmus would have the opportunity to explore the emotion much more closely.

  Several nights ago, while spying through the cleverly concealed surveillance system, Erasmus had watched with great interest when Draigo Roget presented his case to Gilbertus. Draigo was like a prodigal son returning home, but it was Gilbertus who had gone astray.…

  After the lynching of former machine sympathizers, Erasmus thought Gilbertus might be wise to flee while he was still able to do so. Draigo would make sure the two of them were welcomed among like-minded people. Erasmus feared that the Headmaster could not keep up the façade much longer. But Gilbertus wouldn’t leave his precious school. He seemed to care more for the institution than for his own life.

  Whenever the Mentat School celebrated the anniversary of its founding, some students looked back at the records and found images of Headmaster Gilbertus some seventy years earlier—and the head of the school had changed far too little in all that time. Even unobservant humans could detect that, though no one had mentioned it yet. Eventually someone would ask more questions. Erasmus needed to find a way out, long before that happened.…

  On the observation platform, Anna began to hum a tune that she said Lady Orenna had sung to her, but Erasmus’s attention was suddenly diverted, jarring him+e ch woman away from his conversation with Anna. Inside the Headmaster’s office, Gilbertus had just removed the memory core from its hidden storage.

  Rather than dividing his focus, the robot whispered to Anna through the tiny device in her ear. “I’m going to be quiet for a while so that we can enjoy each other’s company, but I won’t leave you, my darling. I’ll never leave you, I promise.”

  Through a spy-eye, Erasmus saw Anna smile as she stared out at the swamps. Then he shunted his awareness to the Headmaster’s office.

  * * *

  GILBERTUS STARED AT the exposed gelsphere and its faint glow. During his years on Corrin, he’d been able to watch the robot’s flowmetal face. Although Erasmus had never been good at mimicking human expressions, Gilbertus could at least interpret his mentor’s mood (though the robot insisted that he had no “moods”).

  “I’ve noticed recent changes in the behavior of Anna Corrino,” Gilbertus said. “She talks to herself and smiles more often—something is different about her.”

  “I did that,” Erasmus said. “She’s a bright subject, but I’ve nudged her, guided her thoughts. One day, I even gave her sapho.”

  The Headmaster hesitated as he processed this revelation. “Sapho? I kept those samples locked in the medical dispensary.”

  “I had her remove one vial for an important experiment. Her response was enlightening, and I learned much about her past and her emotions.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that. Did you harm her mind?”

  “Of course not. The sapho enhanced her memories and allowed her to talk about difficult events that she had repressed. It was therapeutic, I’m sure. You saw yourself that Anna is happier, talks more. Sapho helped unlock her mind.”

  “Please don’t give her any more.” Gilbertus sat down at his desk, deciding to put the other sapho samples under tighter security to keep the robot away from them.

  Erasmus said, “Why don’t you use the remaining samples on other students? Study the effects. The drug enhances focus, which would be beneficial to Mentats.”

  “They can achieve that through the mental disciplines I teach.”

  “But sapho could create an even more intense focus. You should experiment with it.”

  “One day, perhaps. Right now it is critically important that I can give a favorable report about Anna’s improvement to Roderick and Salvador Corrino. I want her cured—I want her normal.” Gilbertus knew that if Anna Corrino’s mind could be repaired, his school would forever receive the blessing—and protection—of House Corrino.

  The robot remained silent for a long moment, then said, “I know how to cure her, but I have no intention of doing so. If she were to become normal, she would be far less interesting to me. I enjoy her as she is.”

  Gilbertus leaned closer to the exposed memory core. “But curing her has been our priority with her from the beginning.”

  The simulated voice was erudite and distant, exactly as it had been when Erasmus conducted his experiments with hundreds of human slaves at a time. “Your+37p mme priority, perhaps, my son—but I see her as my very special laboratory subject, a unique window into the human mind such as I’ve never had before. Since I still have no physical body, I am unable to perform other experiments to satisfy my curiosity. I am left to conduct experiments that are within my capabilities.”

  Gilbertus flared his nostrils. “Anna is far more than a laboratory subject. We want her cured, and we need to keep her safe.”

  “At one time you were just my laboratory subject, but look at what you have achieved, thanks to me.”

  “Yes, and I could lose it all if we make a mistake and let them glimpse who we are. The Butlerians could easily retaliate against some imagined slight. Draigo Roget’s visit affected me deeply, and I … I have always known my position is incorrect.” He paused, feeling uncomfortable to admit that. “Manford isn’t convinced that I am his ally. And I worry constantly about Anna Corrino’s safety, for fear of provoking the wrath of her powerful brothers. This school has defenses, but not nearly enough to fend off an assault by Imperial military forces.”

  “I have suggested many times that we should vanish and start a new life.” Erasmus paused. “And I would like to take Anna with us.”

  “We’d be hunted all over the Imperium.”

  Using his spy-eyes throughout the room, Erasmus assessed the flicker of emotions on Gilbertus’s face, how he frowned, how his eyes flicked back and forth. The robot drew an obvious conclusion. “You resent how much attention I devote to Anna Corrino.”

  “That’s not true,” Gilbertus said, too quickly.

  Erasmus manufactured a chuckle. “Your reflexive response indicates otherwise. I watch Anna, and I converse with her. I keep track of everything she does.”

  “I am not jealous, Father. Merely viewing the larger picture. We have to—”

  The memory core suddenly interrupted him, blaring his words loud enough to stress his urgency. “Anna Corrino is in need of rescue. Summon your most physically capable Mentat trainees—we must save her.”

  Gilbertus erupted from his desk.
“Rescue? What has she done?”

  “She ventured out into the dangerous swamps, unchaperoned. She is all alone out there.” The robot’s voice sounded genuinely concerned.

  “Why would she do that?” Frantic to get out into the hall, the Headmaster began to shut down the security systems that safeguarded his main office. “She could be killed!”

  “It is consistent with her previous patterns of behavior. She knows that her fellow trainees test themselves in the swamps. Remember that Anna Corrino consumed poison at the Rossak School because other Sister trainees did so.” As Gilbertus rushed to hide the memory core in its cabinet, Erasmus said, “My spy-eyes are widely scattered out in the swamp, but I can still see her. She has made her way deep into the sangrove thickets. I should have been monitoring her more closely. Anna Corrino cannot possibly survive out there for long.”

  “I’ll send rescue teams.” Gilbertus locked away the robot core, then burst out of his office, sounding the alarm.

  * * *

  THE SANGROVE BRANCHES were sharp, the curved roots like kno had no idea who he really wasorp mmebby knees, and the bark smooth and slippery, but Anna wove her way along like a human darning needle. It was challenging and gratifying. She didn’t miss a step.

  Bugs swarmed around her, some biting, others just flying in her face. Subconsciously, she counted and categorized the insects; she watched their drunken paths in the air and computed imaginary flight patterns for them. The bugs dipped and dodged aimlessly.

  She worked her way through the thickets, ducking under branches, parting hairy strands of moss that dangled from above. These swamps reminded her of tcontinued to a

  Every grain of sand in the desert is different, just as every planet in the Imperium is unique. But the more I see of offworld settlements, the more they look the same to me, like grains of sand.

  —TAREF, “A Lament for Shurko”

  On his first arrival at the EsconTran spacedocks, fully trained for his new mission, in disguise and with a false ID, Taref quickly found employment as an interim worker on a planet called Junction Alpha. He had never heard of it before. Junction Alpha was not one of the worlds that evoked exotic images, such as Salusa Secundus did, or the glittering former machine stronghold of Corrin … or Poritrin, from which the Zensunni had escaped their slavery. There was no grandeur on Junction Alpha, just noise, smells, hard work, and no more satisfaction than he’d felt on Arrakis. Compared to his dreams, the young man found the rest of the Imperium rather disappointing. Junction Alpha was just a different kind of desert.

  With his new background from Venport Holdings, Taref understood just how much wealth the spice operations generated—and by rights that wealth should belong to the free people of the desert, rather than to some offworld company. Instead, the Freemen chose to live like beetles under rocks, casting their gazes backward and not even trying to see the path ahead.

  Taref and his friends had grown up cocky and aloof. They summoned sandworms to ride across the desert and returned to the sietch whenever they felt like it, surviving on their own, sabotaging the intrusive spice harvesters whenever possible. They had thought themselves wise in the ways of life—until the VenHold Mentat made his intriguing offer.…

  At least now, each new planet Taref visited—even the dirty, noisy, industrial worlds—showed him how ignorant and naïve he had been all his life. In the desert, he had believed he knew everything important, but upon leaving Arrakis he had been overwhelmed by the breadth of subjects about which he knew nothing. He could never learn them all, even if he spent a lifetime trying. The horizon of wisdom was far, far beyond his reach.

  At Junction Alpha, he had worked in the shipyards, keeping his eyes open for the right opportunity, as Draigo had instructed him. His first contract sabotage job had been the most difficult—not mechanically or technically, but because he was nervous,+ the map the other convinced that someone would realize his job skills were minimal. The entire Escon company was in turmoil, however. People whispered whenever ships disappeared … and EsconTran ships disappeared far too often.

  Junction Alpha was a stopping-over planet, and many of the through-passengers were Butlerians. Taref had learned that their legless leader drove them into wild rampages. According to Josef Venport’s vehement speech, Manford Torondo was the greatest enemy of civilization, the most dangerous man alive. Any VenHold operative had unofficial instructions to kill him on sight, should the opportunity arise.

  On Junction Alpha, Taref had altered the fuel flow in a large cargo ship and adjusted the feedback loop on a passenger craft filled with Butlerian pilgrims. The first vessel flew off and vanished somewhere in deep space. The pilgrim transport exploded in-system moments before the engines folded space. EsconTran couldn’t hide that loss, and it was a dramatic embarrassment for the company. Since little wreckage remained, no investigator could determine that sabotage was the cause.

  Taref had seen some of those fanatics board the ships, and he knew their bodies were now scattered across space. His sabotage was no longer theoretical, and a ship full of passengers had died because of his activities. He decided it wasn’t his place to question.

  Working alone gave him time to miss Lillis, Shurko, Bentur, Waddoch, and Chumel. After finishing their training, his friends had been separated and dispatched far away to work on spacedocks or at commercial spaceports where they could intercept EsconTran ships and complete their acts of sabotage.

  After his third sabotage, Taref decided he needed to report to Kolhar. So, when the next VenHold ship arrived at Junction Alpha, he resigned from his work at the spacedocks, a common occurrence. Workers came and went quickly; for most, this was never expected to be a long-term job. Taref used one of his numerous disguises, with a corresponding ID card, and transferred to the VenHold ship.

  On Kolhar, he reported to the admin-tower to make his report to the Directeur. The young desert man had never met Josef Venport face-to-face, and the industrialist was an intimidating presence. Taref averted his eyes out of respect as he described his missions.

  Draigo was present, remaining cool. Venport seemed happy with Taref’s work, particularly the pilgrim ship that had exploded in full view of everyone. But beyond the Directeur’s satisfaction and delight Taref saw a steely anger toward his competitor simmering just beneath the surface.

  “Not only did your efforts remove an enemy ship, they also demonstrated how lax Escon safety is.” A smile crept up beneath his thick mustache. “As an added benefit, we got rid of several hundred fanatics. You don&

  If a person is properly instructed, yet continues to make mistakes, he must be severely disciplined. Such is the heavy responsibility every devout person must had no idea who he really wass Mentatoperationbear.

  —RAYNA BUTLER, last rally on Parmentier

  In his half-timbered cottage on Lampadas, Anari tended the Butlerian leader. She felt possessive of Manford and always made herself available, should he need her in any way. She wanted him to feel safe and protected, but not helpless.

  In her efforts, she was aided by a meek and matronly woman who cooked meals, maintained the cottage, and performed chores. Ellonda was soft-spoken and sweet, without the slightest whisper of doubt about the Butlerian cause. The housekeeper accepted the holy teachings as a matter of course, not bothering with nuances, simply agreeing with Manford in all cases. She often hummed as she darned his clothes or helped him into bed, though Manford was perfectly capable of moving about his own quarters.

  Anari passed Ellonda in the hallway, and without knocking she walked into the room where Manford was reading at his private desk. He promptly closed a book, startled. Anari noticed his jerky movements, the sweat on his brow, and immediately looked for a threat. “What’s wrong?”

  His tone was uncharacteristically defensive. “Nothing you need to worry about. I am merely … disturbed by what I just read.”

  Manford tried to hide the book—which, in itself, told Anari what it was, because she’d seen him with it bef
ore. “Why do you torture yourself by reading the lab journals of Erasmus?”

  His shoulders slumped in shame, but he still held the volume close. “To understand our enemies. We must never forget how dangerous they are. This strengthens my resolve.”

  Anari sniffed. “We defeated the thinking machines. Our only enemy now is the weakness of human resolve.”

  “The thinking machines remain a danger. The robot Erasmus wrote, ‘Given enough time, they will forget … and will create us all over again.’ I cannot let that happen.”

  “I want to burn those books,” Anari grumbled, “so no one can read them—and so you no longer have nightmares.”

  He placed the volume in a desk drawer and locked it. “I have more than enough nightmares—I’ve lived my life with them. They won’t go away, whether or not you burn the journals in my possession. I … need to know what they contain.”

  Anari was disturbed to see him like this. He often read the laboratory journals in private, and she worried that he was increasingly obsessed with Erasmus, like a child playing with fire. Someday, for his own protection, she might slip into his office and destroy the volumes anyway. He would be angry with her, but she would be doing it for the proper reasons, to protect him.

  He glanced at papers she carried, awkwardly changed the subject. “Something important?”

  She placed a set of documents on his desk. “Despite your public blessing, it is clear that the ships of EsconTran are not divinely protected. You need to know just how bad it is, before you decide to travel offworld.”

  For weeks Anari had been studying schedules and actual witness reports of ship arrivals, as well as a complete accounting of which vessels vanished en route. There were far, far too many accidents.

  He pushed the papers aside without reading them. “I’ll be safe. You don’t need to worry about me.”

  She remained firm. “You’re w+uep mmerong, Manford—I do need to worry about you. It’s my main reason for existence.”