“I am here to announce an important victory on Kolhar, where our forces dealt a fatal blow to Josef Venport and his enclave of machine lovers.” The rest of his words were drowned out in another tidal wave of sound.
He would not mention the atomics for now.
From his shirt he removed the small painted icon that he kept with him at all times: Rayna surrounded by an angelic aura. His gaze lingered on it. “Rayna Butler would be proud of what we’ve accomplished, but our great struggle is not yet over. I need you more than ever, all of you. Even though we have crushed the stronghold of our greatest enemy, we must make certain Emperor Roderick guides humanity on the proper path. And I am the one to show him.”
More cheers, which lasted several minutes, during which time Manford could not talk, and could barely think. Though Anari stood as still as a statue, he felt her grow tense beneath him.
Finally the crowd quieted enough for him to continue, “Some of you may be required to become martyrs—and that is a glorious privilege.” Manford quoted an ancient rebel. “‘The tree of liberty must be fertilized with the blood of martyrs.’ Before going back to the Emperor, we will seize what remains of Venport Holdings, the ships in his Spacing Fleet, the monstrous Navigators. We will put an end to all known VenHold operations. Only then will we go to Salusa and make the Emperor see what we have accomplished. He dare not oppose us.” Manford smiled at them, and the roaring of their voices went on and on.
Anari had not heard this plan before. In a voice only for him, she said, “It will be a slaughter if the Emperor does not clear the way for us to enter the capital peacefully. A slaughter on both sides.”
Manford nodded, knowing that even a slaughter would be to his advantage. “The more of us who die gloriously, the more recruits we will gain.”
I have never been attracted to a person’s pretentious demeanor. A gaudy surface often obscures a hidden agenda. Rather, I trust the quiet, unassuming person much more than one who constantly needs to remind others of his accomplishments and embellish them.
—EMPEROR RODERICK CORRINO
After two weeks, Hana Elkora and her salvage team at the mothballed thinking-machine fleet managed to reactivate the FTL engines of twenty-five of the forty vessels. Meanwhile, Elkora had directed a skeleton crew to fly the robot ships back to Denali, one by one, where the rest of the repairs and refurbishment were completed. Kolhar had already delivered shipments of Holtzman engines immediately after Draigo sent his request, and the foldspace engines would be installed while the ships orbited the research planet.
Elkora had ejected thousands of deactivated robots that cluttered the decks of the reclaimed ships—“taking out the garbage,” as she called it—while hundreds more were found and removed during the final operations at Denali, and all the robots were simply dumped near the laboratory domes, where they would be left to rust in the corrosive atmosphere, just like the old cymek walkers. The Mentat was proud of his progress and felt eager to report to Directeur Venport.
And then Draigo learned what had happened at Kolhar.
* * *
USING A SMALL spacefolder, Norma Cenva quietly delivered Cioba to Salusa Secundus. With her perfect mastery of coordinates, the Navigator woman deposited her passenger in a secluded meadow on the outskirts of Zimia. Cioba could see the magnificent buildings of the capital city a short distance away, and a gravel footpath just ahead led her to a groundcar road and the Imperial Palace. The walk took her an hour.
Crowds moved toward the Palace like iron filings toward a magnet. Dressed in the robes of a nondescript Sister, Cioba made her way with a clear sense of purpose until a trio of Imperial guards stopped her from entering the main archway, demanding to know her identity.
“I am Sister Cioba, and I have business with the Emperor’s Truthsayer. Surely you recognize my robes?” Although Mother Superior Valya had refused to use her own influence to resolve the dispute, Cioba hoped that Fielle would help arrange for a brief conversation with Emperor Roderick. The Sisterhood owed her that, at least.
It took Cioba most of the day to navigate the labyrinth of the city-sized Palace among thousands of functionaries. At sunset, after contacting several other Sisters for guidance, she finally located Fielle in the echoing south hall. The large-statured Truthsayer greeted her with a cautious smile. “You take an enormous risk by coming here. After your husband threatened Salusa, the Emperor certainly has no great love for him.”
Fielle must know that this was not a social call. Trying to suppress her agitation, Cioba said in a crisp voice, “I had to come here. The Butlerians have committed unforgivable crimes against humanity. No matter how the Emperor feels about my husband, he must be made to see who the real enemy is. Please help by arranging for me to speak with him, just briefly. I need him to listen to me.”
The Truthsayer frowned, sensing her urgency as well as the truth in her words. “I suggest an indirect but more effective route. I might be able to arrange for you to speak with Haditha.”
The Emperor’s wife came within the hour, curious but wary. Fielle led her to a sitting room where Cioba waited. Seeing her, Haditha became tense and guarded, but Cioba preferred it to the vengeful anger that would have come from Roderick. This might be her only chance.
The two women looked at each other in silence while the Truthsayer stood as an intermediary, neither interfering nor helping. “I shouldn’t be talking with you,” Haditha said. “Roderick has declared your husband a fugitive from Imperial justice. Josef Venport assassinated his brother.”
Cioba gave a slight nod. “And your husband has done everything in his power to destroy us and bankrupt Venport Holdings. We can’t always excuse the actions of the men we love. When two such forces collide, the collateral damage ripples throughout the Imperium. Far better if they were just to talk, don’t you think?”
Haditha remained stiff. “Why should Roderick listen to him? Why should he trust anything your husband has to say?”
“Because Josef is not your greatest problem.” Cioba didn’t hesitate, driving home the most important point. “The Butlerians have used forbidden atomics! They brought on a holocaust that utterly destroyed Kolhar. Do not be blind to the true enemy of civilization.”
Haditha reeled, astounded by the news. Watching her, Cioba immediately realized that the Empress had had no prior knowledge of the Butlerian plan. Although it was possible that Roderick had kept his collusion a secret from his wife, Cioba didn’t think so. She had always believed that Manford acted on his own and did exactly as he pleased.
On one side, the Imperial Truthsayer nodded to Haditha, affirming the truth of what Cioba had just said.
Cioba marshaled her emotions and continued as if issuing an official report. “Manford Torondo bombarded our planet with an entire nuclear stockpile, without warning. Our cities were obliterated. Only a few VenHold ships escaped, rescuing Navigators and some of our personnel, but we still suffered a great loss of life—from atomics, my Lady! My husband has withdrawn to Arrakis, where he has gathered all his remaining defenses as a secure stronghold.”
Haditha’s voice was less steady now. “Your husband laid siege to the Imperial capital. He threatened our city with cymeks—cymeks! The Butlerians saved us. They rescued the Imperial Palace and my family.”
“Josef did not come here to overthrow the Imperial throne. He did not come to destroy or remove Emperor Roderick from his rightful place—he came with a show of strength, so the Emperor would negotiate with him. Despite appearances, we were not driven away by the Butlerians at all—the VenHold fleet was forced to withdraw due to … unforeseen circumstances that had nothing to do with the arrival of Manford Torondo’s ships.”
She leaned forward, adding with great passion in her voice, “My husband just wants to talk with yours. Josef is a leader of industry, Roderick is the leader of the Imperium. They should be allies against the barbarians that mean to destroy our way of life.”
Haditha was pale, shaken. Her voice trembled.
“The use of atomics has not yet been verified. I have only your word for it—and even though you may believe what you are saying, you could have received erroneous information.”
“Nothing erroneous about it. I saw the attack, barely escaped. Send a scout to the ruins of Kolhar,” Cioba said. “Or better yet, wait for Manford to crow about his victory.”
Fielle turned to the Emperor’s wife. “She speaks the truth, my Lady. There is no hesitation in her words.”
Cioba played her next card. “Manford has used atomics once. Does he have more warheads? If so, will he use them against us on Arrakis?” She met Haditha’s gaze with her steely eyes. “Or will he keep some in reserve, knowing that he can’t manipulate your husband the way he manipulated Emperor Salvador? What is to stop him from using atomics on Salusa?”
Cioba could see that her words had struck a raw nerve. She didn’t need to argue further; Haditha knew full well what the fanatical leader was likely to do. Making a great effort to sound reasonable, Cioba said, “Josef asks for the Emperor to meet with him in private, in a safe, neutral place where they can discuss a resolution.”
Haditha let out a sound of quiet disgust. “Why should Roderick trust the man who killed his brother any more than he trusts the man who killed our daughter?”
“I assure you, my Empress, Josef only wishes to run Venport Holdings and earn his way back into the Emperor’s good graces. Let us join together to solve our mutual problem: Manford Torondo.”
Haditha gave her a shrewd look. “What neutral place? Here on Salusa?”
Cioba shook her head. “The Emperor has put a price on Josef’s head, so he will not leave Arrakis, which may be the only place he is safe, his last true stronghold. He suggests a meeting aboard a neutral ship in orbit over Arrakis, with as much security as the Emperor cares to bring.”
“Your husband overwhelmed our Imperial peacekeeping forces there and still holds them hostage.”
“Josef has always been a pragmatic man. Perhaps their release could be a gesture of good faith.”
The Truthsayer spoke up. “I should point out, Empress Haditha, that having such a meeting here on Salusa would be problematic for a different reason. Directeur Venport would be seen, and word would get back to the Butlerians that the Emperor met with him. We dare not risk that.”
Cioba could see that the Emperor’s wife understood the logic of the argument, but a commotion occurred at the doorway before she could reply. Imperial guards escorted a flushed Roderick Corrino into the small sitting room.
The Emperor strode in and turned his gaze on Cioba like a weapon locking on a target. “I can hold you hostage and order Directeur Venport to surrender. How much does he value you? I would be curious to see.”
Haditha spoke up. “Listen to what she has to say, Roderick.”
“Her husband is a traitor and a murderer.” The Emperor’s face darkened. “He threatens the Imperium. He threatens me—”
Haditha cut him off. “The Butlerians used atomics, Roderick. They destroyed Kolhar.”
Unexpectedly, the air shifted in the room, and the crystalline glowglobes flickered and dimmed. Norma Cenva’s tank appeared on the open floor so suddenly that everyone staggered backward.
Norma’s otherworldly voice came through the speakerpatch. “Emperor Roderick Corrino, you captured one of my Navigators. You tested him and interrogated him. Now Dobrec is dead. He gave up his will to live.”
The accusation hung for a moment, and Roderick struggled to respond.
Norma continued, “Now Butlerian atomics have incinerated all Navigator facilities on Kolhar.” She drifted in the tank with an accusatory stare and attitude. “Stability must be restored. Commerce must return. We need a constant supply of spice from Arrakis.”
Her large face pressed against the viewing port. “Emperor Roderick Corrino, I personally guarantee your safety if you travel to Arrakis to meet with my great-grandson, as he asks.” Her voice grew louder, booming. “This crisis must be resolved.”
Roderick shuddered visibly at the sight of the Navigator woman staring at him, and Cioba added quietly, “Please meet with my husband, Sire. It will change the course of the Imperium, will save the Imperium.”
The Emperor grudgingly listened as Cioba and Haditha explained the request for a secret détente session over Arrakis. When they were finished, he exchanged a deeply communicative look with his wife, and Haditha gave the smallest of nods.
Roderick glanced at Norma’s tank, then said to Cioba, “I do not trust Josef Venport after what he has done, but Norma Cenva … is something else entirely. It is still a gamble, but I will go.”
Is there no end to the impetuous nature of the young, you ask? Ah, but if their brash actions ceased, civilization would lose a vital resource. The secret is to harness that energy for good purposes.
—FAYKAN CORRINO, first Emperor after the fall of the thinking machines
As Willem Atreides recovered from his injuries, he learned to his dismay that Vor had abandoned him on Chusuk. Bringing Tula Harkonnen to justice was supposed to have been their joint mission!
During his weeks of recuperation in a luxurious guest house at the Royal Bach Palais, the young man was restless even with the constant attentions of Princess Harmona and her excellent staff. He was impatient to be on the move again, to rejoin Vorian. He could not let his ancestor do everything himself.
Harmona obviously wanted him to stay. He longed for a normal life and a beautiful companion, thinking of her caring, charming personality as much as her physical beauty. She was everything he could have asked for, and more … but first he had a job to do. For Orry.
A paunchy male servant brought a tray of food for him and left it on a table in the sitting area. Willem thanked the man, though he didn’t feel much like eating. Feeling edgy, like a caged animal, he paced around the main room.
He and Vor had almost caught Tula Harkonnen, but now Vorian was pursuing her alone, without Willem. She killed Orry! I will not be left behind! He’d spoken of this to anyone in the palais who would listen, but Harmona’s personal physician was just as firm in requiring him to remain here, so that he could heal. Well, he had healed enough by now. Even with his undeniable feelings toward Harmona, he could not continue day after day in this velvet-lined prison. He might have forced the issue and left anytime he wished, but he had no resources of his own, and no ship that would let him follow Vorian Atreides.
He had only a written note from him, instructing him to remain safe on Chusuk until he received further word. Safe! His brother was dead and the murderer was still on the loose. “I intend to draw out the Harkonnens,” Vor had written.
Each day became more difficult than the previous one. Harmona was aware of his growing frustration, and they discussed his concerns. Each night he went to bed with troubling thoughts whirling through his mind, and lay awake for hours. In the mornings, he felt weary, with nothing resolved.
But he did enjoy his time with the princess, and Harmona was almost, almost enough to make him forget. Yet there were too many unresolved issues for him to drag her into his uncertain life. He had to ensure that Tula Harkonnen paid the price she owed.
But apparently Vor had mentioned going to Corrin, luring them there, facing his enemies, and keeping Willem safe … a plan that did not require Willem’s participation. Not if he had anything to say about it!
After knocking lightly, Harmona entered, wearing a maroon dress embroidered with the silver treble-clef crest of House Bach. Yet before she could even greet him, he stood and announced his decision in a firm tone. “I’m going to Corrin. That’s where Vorian went, and I can’t let him finish this without me.”
She looked at him with concern, but not surprise. “You’re not in peak condition yet. You should remain under a doctor’s care for a few more weeks.”
“I have been under his care for too long as far as I’m concerned, and now I am recovered enough. I’ll try to be careful, but I won’t let my injuries slow me down if I see
Tula Harkonnen. As an Atreides, I have no choice after what she did.”
“I know.” Harmona nodded sadly. “House Bach can provide the funding you need, and I’ll make the arrangements to send you to Corrin.” She sighed. “I just hope and pray you will come back to me.”
* * *
BEFORE LEAVING SALUSA, Vor had liquidated another secret account to purchase a small spaceworthy ship, an antique from the Jihad era. He felt right at home in the vessel, and it reminded him of his beloved old craft, the Dream Voyager, enough that he mentally christened this one the New Voyager. The name was strictly for his own amusement, not marked on the hull or anywhere else; he kept the ship inconspicuous and managed to fly away with it unregistered, thanks to a large bribe. It was money well spent.
Despite its age, the craft was well maintained, and he was familiar with its inner workings. The New Voyager did not have Holtzman engines, but used a familiar workhorse FTL drive. If he’d been in a particular hurry, he could have bought passage aboard a larger EsconTran foldspace carrier. But the delay served his purposes. He had told his operatives to wait for two weeks before spreading the rumor in the Imperial Court that he’d gone to Corrin. By that time he would have arrived, and his preparations would be complete.
Pain echoed in his heart as he arrived at Corrin again. In his long lifetime he had lived so many years on so many worlds, experiencing loves and families and losses, but Corrin—the heart of the former Synchronized Empire—was where he had spent much of his youth, as a human with special privileges granted by his thinking-machine masters. Much later, Vorian Atreides had led the human forces back to destroy the place. Corrin was also where Abulurd Harkonnen had betrayed the Army of Humanity during the crucial moments at the Bridge of Hrethgir. That disgrace, that cowardice, had been the spark of the Atreides-Harkonnen feud.
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