Navigators of Dune

by Brian Herbert

  But Erasmus had the capacity to think in the long-term, and he was finally among allies now—those with the potential to cause retaliatory damage. They were all united in their desire to eradicate the Butlerian disease.

  “Gilbertus hid my memory core for my own protection. He knew that if I were ever discovered, I would surely be destroyed. Unlike you like-minded people of Denali, others in the Imperium would never accept the benefits of my knowledge. They destroy what they don’t understand.”

  Anna fidgeted as she moved about the chamber. Her voice sounded husky, as if overwhelmed with misplaced emotion. “If Erasmus had been destroyed, then billions of people would never learn how brilliant he is! How admirable he is.”

  Erasmus had made her believe all those things when her mind was soft and malleable, but now it had solidified from opinion to dogma.

  The scientists tolerated her interruptions, because Anna was such a valuable hostage, but they paid little attention to anything she said. Sweet, oblivious Anna didn’t understand her own worth, and Erasmus wanted to ensure that his hold on her delicate mind did not loosen. He appreciated the young woman’s rapt attention to him, even if her devotion verged on obsession. He tolerated it, though. Over the centuries, he had certainly endured enough hatred from humans; he could accept misplaced adoration now.

  He continued to address the attentive researchers. “At the Mentat School my sensors and spy-eyes allowed me to continue my observations of humanity, make projections, and test hypotheses. I was hampered by the lack of a physical body, but Gilbertus repeatedly promised he would obtain a vessel to hold my memory core. Somehow, he never managed that.” Erasmus paused. “It was the only way he ever failed me.…”

  The Denali scientists took notes on their Tlulaxa datapads. For days now, the cooperative robot had discussed his thoughts and conclusions almost nonstop. He had so much knowledge to dispense, so many discoveries, so much data, that simply organizing everything was a task that stretched their abilities to the limit.

  “My experiences are pivotal,” he continued. “I intend to help you find ways not just to defend Venport Holdings, but to annihilate the Butlerians.” He realized that his words might sound boastful, but a thinking machine had no pride. “If only we had more time. It is difficult to distill centuries of experiences into such a compressed time span.”

  While he waited for the scientists to catch up with their notes, he accessed the last surveillance images of Gilbertus being led from his imprisonment, forced to kneel down and wait for the swing of the Swordmaster’s blade.…

  Near the laboratory table, a preservation tank held the disembodied brain of Administrator Noffe, the first of the new cymeks. Now his detached tank sent signals through the flickering electrafluid, which were converted to words by the speakerpatch. “The facilities of Denali are at your disposal, Erasmus. Our mission is to provide Directeur Venport with the weapons to fight ignorance and strengthen human civilization. Share with us weapons designs from the Synchronized Empire. Help us eradicate the savages.”

  “They killed Headmaster Albans,” Anna said, her brow furrowing with concern. “They tried to destroy Erasmus—and me! I don’t know why my brother hasn’t just killed them all.”

  “Of course, I will assist you in destroying the Butlerians,” Erasmus said, primarily to soothe Anna, because she could become fixated on a single thought. He had little confidence that Emperor Roderick Corrino could stand up to the fanatics or even to Josef Venport. But the robot intended to assist, because he had his own score to settle, and his own price to demand, when the time was right.

  “My greatest desire is to watch the Butlerian leader die, and the more painfully the better. I wish to experience the satisfaction of revenge.” This, too, would be a new sensation, another key detail in his grand quest—and that in itself was exciting.

  One of the scientists, a quiet Tlulaxa biological researcher named Danebh, had taken copious notes. He sat back. “I would appreciate data on your biological research, Erasmus. You conducted many dissections back on Corrin, but you also organized intensive genetic data. I understand you even grew a clone of Serena Butler herself?”

  “I did, and though the new Serena seemed perfect in every way, she wasn’t nearly as fascinating as the original woman, merely a poor copy. Identical biology does not produce an identical set of experiences and personality.”

  As he spoke, his memory core linked into all the facility’s data systems and accessed Dr. Danebh’s background. The Tlulaxa man had conducted innovative work, which the Butlerians branded “unclean,” forcing him to flee his home planet and seek sanctuary with Venport Holdings.

  “I can provide all the data you need,” Erasmus said, “as long as the knowledge is used against the Butlerians.”

  Administrator Noffe spoke from his preservation canister. “It will be. We all have sufficient reasons to hate those people.”

  “Then you can also provide me with guidance,” Erasmus said. “I have never been able to understand the emotion of hatred, and I wish to study it more.”

  Anna Corrino looked at him with a suddenly ruthless smile, which he found unsettling.

  The universe is full of intriguing probabilities that can be calculated. A Mentat must learn to ignore the vast majority of such temptations, however, or he will surely go insane.

  —The late HEADMASTER GILBERTUS ALBANS, addressing one of his first-year classes

  Still new to her role as Mother Superior, Valya Harkonnen ignored the biting cold from the wind that whipped across the Wallach IX landing field. A passenger ship set down, carrying a group of Sisters of questionable loyalty, whom she had recalled from the Imperial Court. Valya strode out to face them.

  The weak sun overhead provided so little warmth in the early afternoon that she wore a heavy ornamented robe, but she could endure the chill. Her home world of Lankiveil was even colder, and besides, for her, easing discomfort was largely a matter of readjusting her metabolism.

  Valya had short black hair that framed an oval face; her hazel eyes absorbed everything around her. She turned to watch the women emerge from the vessel, but did not offer them a smile. Now that the Sisterhood’s schism was ended and she had emerged victorious, Valya had summoned these disloyal women to face their new Mother Superior.

  Mother Superior … Though still young in physical years, Valya was a Reverend Mother and thus carried the memories of millennia in her mind. She had held her important position for only a few months, since the death of Raquella Berto-Anirul. She was still testing her responsibilities, duties, and power … and had to make sure that other Sisters did not challenge her. These Sisters from the Imperial Court were suspect, but Valya had options.

  It was a matter of survival for her to notice tiny details that others might miss. Although Valya was not trained as a Truthsayer, she had always possessed an instinct for discerning truth and loyalty. At first glance she could detect no buried violence in these new arrivals, no immediate threat from them, but if any of these women launched a physical attack on her, Valya would be a formidable opponent, and she was sharpening her control of the new Voice technique that could compel others to do as she wished.

  She had to decide whether these Sisters from the former rival faction could be trusted, or if they would have to be discarded.

  In addition to protecting herself against enemies, the Mother Superior also had to reaffirm and strengthen her closest allies in the Sisterhood. At one time, she had even suspected Fielle—the loyal Mentat Sister standing beside her now—of being overly ambitious, yet Fielle had become one of her closest advisers. Fielle was a large-boned, detail-oriented woman with a fleshy face; after finishing her training on Lampadas, the Mentat and Truthsayer had become one of old Raquella’s favorites, and now Valya viewed her as a powerful tool.

  Black-robed Sisters marched out of the ship and lined themselves up as if in a funeral procession. Valya identified many of the Orthodox Sisters, including her fervent rivals Ninke and Esther-Ca
no, but not all of the women were known to her. Not yet. Valya intended to obtain reports on each of them, from which she would decide their fates. These women had broken their loyalty oath to Mother Superior Raquella, and even though the Sisterhood was unified again—in accordance with the old woman’s dying wish—Valya knew she could not trust them without significant reassurances. They had wounded the organization.

  A promise broken once can be broken twice.

  Sister Olivia took charge of assembling the newcomers so that the Mother Superior could address them. Although faithful and dependable, the blonde had a tendency to get excited, and Valya detected a nervous edge in Olivia’s voice. Nevertheless, she was attentive and conscientious, and Valya counted on her as another ally.

  When Olivia had arranged the women, Valya stepped forward and raised her voice. Her tone was artificially bright. “Today you have an opportunity for advancement, rather than punishment. But you must discard the harmful ways that Dorotea taught you. The consolidated Sisterhood is strong again, after the damage caused by her rebellion against the Mother Superior.”

  Valya’s gaze wandered over these women, probing their expressions and postures for signs of resistance. Some were anxious, cowed, or meek, while others were nearly unreadable. On the surface, she saw apparent submission, but only time would tell. “You will be interviewed carefully, and it is my fervent hope that we can welcome all of you back into the Sisterhood.”

  Despite their suddenly uneasy expressions, Valya dismissed them, and Sister Olivia led the group toward a groundbus. Valya’s personal guard would take the new arrivals to an isolated section of the secure dormitory where they would be closely monitored. These Sisters would only be released after they had affirmed their allegiance to Valya and submitted to rigorous reeducation. Or they would die. Valya didn’t care if she happened to lose a few along the way. The Sisterhood would once again have one voice and one mind, and it would belong to her, instead of Raquella.

  As the women were led away, Valya made eye contact with one of her steely guard escorts—her young sister Tula Harkonnen, who was among the best fighters in the Sisterhood, thanks to the rigorous training Valya had imposed. Beneath Tula’s soft, sweet beauty and curly blonde locks lurked the danger of razors. When the young woman glanced at Valya now, a look of uneasiness flashed in her eyes before she escorted the group of Sisters into the bus.

  That brief moment disturbed Valya, and she tried to assess what it revealed. Tula had asked for permission to go back home to their family on Lankiveil, at least for a brief sabbatical, and she had certainly earned it … but Valya wanted to understand why Tula would make such a request. She had shed Atreides blood—as ordered—and proved her loyalty … as a Harkonnen, if nothing else.

  Tula had implemented the perfect revenge by marrying young Orry Atreides and killing him on their wedding night. Such a delightful, wicked touch! The murder had sent Vorian Atreides into hiding along with Orry’s brother, Willem. The two had vanished from Caladan, and even with the Sisterhood’s connections Valya could not determine where they had gone.

  But Tula had not shared her sister’s joy. Afterward, she had expressed remorse and guilt for killing Orry, as if convinced that she held true feelings for the victim. Tula had even expressed regret that the situation couldn’t be different between the two families. Different? Valya could not even conceive of that possibility, not after generations of blood feud.

  The girl obviously needed time to contemplate her priorities, and it would be good for her to go back to Harkonnen holdings to be reminded of her family connections. Valya had arranged to send her to Lankiveil, until she was needed for another mission. Even so, Tula would have to be watched; this strangely reticent behavior concerned Valya.…

  Fielle stepped up to report, interrupting her superior’s thoughts. “I am ready to depart for Salusa, Mother Superior. My companions and I are prepared to fill the new vacancies in the Imperial Court, as you commanded. If the Emperor will have me, I will be his new Truthsayer.”

  “He will have you. He needs a Truthsayer, now that Dorotea is dead.” Valya smiled at the loyal woman. “And I will be glad to have you there. We need to make sure Emperor Roderick gets the proper advice.” Valya gazed at the shuttle, while male workers moved about, testing and refueling. “As soon as the shuttle is cleared to go, you and the other Sisters may board.” The EsconTran foldspace carrier would take them back to the capital planet.

  “I will gain the Emperor’s trust by providing him with the information about Josef Venport that we discussed,” Fielle said. “He is naturally concerned, as are we, about how Venport has killed so many people to maintain his spice monopoly. He presents a danger not only to Imperial operations that remain on Arrakis, but to the entire Imperium.”

  “It is a fine line we walk,” Valya said. “When Venport learns what you have revealed, he will see it as a betrayal on our part. He helped the Sisterhood in its time of need, arranging for us to move to Wallach IX and saving our new school here.”

  “And his wife helped us retrieve the”—Fielle looked around, to make sure no one was listening, because what she was about to say was known to only a limited number of Sisters—“computers from the jungles of Rossak. Without them, we would have lost all our breeding records.”

  “Yes, Venport served our purposes.” Valya nodded. “His wife, Cioba, is one of us, and a Sorceress as well. Her personal loyalty to us is above reproach, but in marital and business matters, one can never be entirely certain. We did what we had to do. But that is in the past, and we would be better served by siding with the Emperor.”

  Fielle sounded sad. “Mother Superior Raquella was always grateful to Venport for helping us.”

  “I am not Raquella,” Valya said. “She did not consider the implications of obligating the Sisterhood to one commercial magnate, and he thinks he can pull our puppet strings. I would rather send Venport a monetary reward for past services and be done with him than be beholden to him, as he undoubtedly believes we are now. He does favors, expecting to be repaid with high interest, like a warlord.” She pondered with a deepening frown. “In his own way, Directeur Venport is as difficult as Manford Torondo. Two troubled, troublesome personalities.” She nodded somberly. “We don’t want either of those men as enemies.”

  “I understand the importance of remaining neutral,” Fielle said with a respectful bow. “I will be careful when I speak privately with the Emperor.”

  As the Mentat Sister prepared to depart for Salusa Secundus, Valya felt reasonably content that the moving parts were falling neatly into place. At the back of her mind, she heard the excited chatter of women in Other Memory, those long-dead Sisters who surfaced periodically in her consciousness. They were ancient and unpredictable, but they provided her with valuable, yet often contradictory, advice. She heard one voice after another.

  “Reverend Mother Valya! You focus too much on your vengeance against the Atreides,” one voice said.

  “It is your legacy to be greater than Vorian Atreides, the most famous hero of the Butlerian Jihad,” said another.

  “The Sisterhood is more important than the enmity of your two families. Rise above it.”

  Another wise-sounding voice added, “How better to be victorious than to overshadow that man’s legacy? Greatness is your destiny, Valya Harkonnen, not pettiness. Think of the Sisterhood—not mere revenge!”

  The voices faded into the background noise of other ghost memories, but Valya was not convinced. Why can’t I advance the interests of the Sisterhood and my Great House at the same time?

  She frowned as she walked away, preoccupied. The messages from Other Memory were always important, but she didn’t know whether to heed their advice. Her life and destiny were on a different course, and those long-dead women knew it. Attaining her revenge was not just a personal matter; it affected all of House Harkonnen. She had vowed to see that her family was reinstated to the prominence that had been stolen from it.

  I will stay
on course, she thought, no matter what the inner voices say.

  It would be difficult, if not impossible, to write a comprehensive biography of Vorian Atreides. He has lived so long and experienced so much in so many places. He is like the wind, passing through and moving on for centuries.

  —HARUK ARI, historian of the Jihad

  Kepler might have seemed to be a dull world, but Vor had cherished his quiet, sheltered home here for many years. It was exactly the kind of calm, uneventful life he had once sought. He’d been happy, a different man who had retired from his past. He had married a woman he loved and raised a large family—it was as much as anyone could want.

  Now, he feared that all these people were threatened because his own past had ricocheted outward. The Harkonnens might be coming for them.

  When he and young Willem Atreides arrived in the main Kepler village, Vor recalled those happy times, but he didn’t want to be remembered, or noticed. He had left this place behind, had sworn a promise that he would never return. Now, no one on Kepler could know who he was, but he would send discreet warnings about Tula Harkonnen, alerting them to keep watch for her. What if Tula came here, hoping to seduce and murder another young Atreides man, just as she had done to Orry? If they knew ahead of time, they could stop her.

  Nineteen-year-old Willem, tall and black-haired like Vor, looked to be his son but was actually a distant descendant, many generations removed. For their purposes, Willem called himself Vor’s nephew. The two of them were disguised as bearded, down-on-their-luck laborers, looking for work … the better to keep their eyes open for threats to the extended Atreides family on Kepler. Neither of them would ever forget what Tula looked like.

  Even though this was the first time he had ever left Caladan, Willem was dead serious about their mission to verify that Vor’s other family was safe from the Harkonnens, that Tula had not come here. For now, the two men would lie low and keep watch for any danger.