Brian Herbert - Navigators of Dune

As Anari Idaho brought him to inspect the new facility, Manford saw that Headmaster Zendur was a broken, nervous man. Despite being a Mentat, the administrator seemed unable to extrapolate his own situation and put it in the proper context. Zendur had been trained by Headmaster Albans and was therefore suspect, but for now, at least, he would serve as interim manager over a carefully prepared curriculum, with students rigorously selected on the basis of their philosophical beliefs, rather than mental acuity.

For Manford loyalty was primary; everything else was secondary.

When Zendur came out to meet them, he pressed his hands together and bowed deeply. Manford had no doubt that this school would be exactly as expected, and this inspection visit was merely a pro forma exercise. The replacement Headmaster and the remaining Mentat students had learned their lesson. They understood that their role was to calculate and advise, not to lead some kind of thought-revolution.

Carrying Manford in her shoulder harness, Anari strode along the wooden walkways. Beside them, Zendur babbled about the new classes, the progress of the students, and even the survival-training sessions out in the swamps. Their footwear made noises on the wood.

“Has there been any sign of Anna Corrino yet?” Manford interrupted. “Any hint as to how she escaped? Any remnant of her body?”

“No to all that, Leader Torondo,” said Zendur, “but she never was a strong girl. If she fled into the swamps, there is no chance she survived.”

“You understand probabilities, Mentat, so you know there is always a chance, however infinitesimal it might be. Emperor Roderick fears that I had something to do with her disappearance. If I can return Anna Corrino to him, then I will secure his gratitude and cooperation, which is something I need.”

Anari made a dissonant noise. “We didn’t need Emperor Salvador as our ally. We simply made him do as we asked.”

“Roderick is different from his brother,” Manford said, but because Zendur was listening, he didn’t add his own concerns about how difficult it would be to manipulate or bully the new Emperor. Roderick saw through Butlerian strategies in ways that Salvador never had.

In a clear snub, the new Emperor had pointedly not invited Manford to his coronation. With Anna gone missing during the Butlerian siege of the Mentat School, as well as Roderick’s young daughter killed by an out-of-control mob during a rampage festival, the Emperor had sufficient cause to turn against their movement … or worse, join forces with Directeur Venport to eradicate him and his followers. Manford had been very concerned.

But then a miracle had happened when Venport was revealed to be the man behind Salvador’s assassination! The vile business mogul had become an outlaw, hated by Roderick, and this political shift gave Manford and his Butlerians a chance to regain ground.

From his perch on Anari’s shoulders, he asked the new Headmaster, “How many of your Mentats are trained well enough to be put into service? I need at least two to accompany us to Salusa Secundus.”

Zendur stammered, calculated, and nodded. “I have what you require.”

“Good. We will take them to the Imperial Palace as a gift to the Emperor. My followers on Salusa will help me cement a new position for our movement. We can provide Roderick Corrino with whatever he needs, and with a sufficient show of force, we will keep him on the straight and narrow path.”

Inside her tank on the Navigator deck of the VenHold flagship, Norma waved a webbed hand. “We are ready to depart. My Navigators will guide us to Salusa Secundus.” She drifted. “I am anxious to restore stability to the Imperium.”

Josef paced on the bridge beside her. He stared out at his orbiting spacefolders—more than three hundred of them. “I have no doubt our fleet will arrive flawlessly, thanks to you, Grandmother, and we will quickly overwhelm the Imperial defenses. Soon this will all be over. Does your prescience foresee an easy victory? We certainly have the military advantage.”

Norma floated away from the plaz wall of her tank. “My prescience sees many possibilities around Salusa Secundus. I cannot say which one will become real.”

Without giving further details, she used her own control to activate the Holtzman engines, and Josef could feel the hull pulsing as the energy built up. The Navigators aboard the other ships coordinated their moves, and Josef quickly held on, bracing himself. All three hundred vessels vanished simultaneously into foldspace.

Disoriented during the passage, he clenched his fist, sucked in his breath. He wished Cioba could be at his side, but needed her to guard Kolhar as well as manage the commercial activities of Venport Holdings in his absence. Business went on. Despite the bank seizure, hundreds of his trading ships continued to travel throughout the Imperium illicitly delivering vital supplies—especially melange.

With their financial assets frozen, VenHold was crippled in conducting regular operations, but he would resolve the situation quickly and aggressively. Once the Emperor saw the enormous force arrayed against Salusa, he would have only one rational solution available to him, and Josef counted on him being a rational man: that was the gamble he had made all along, although Roderick had certainly disappointed him so far.

Guided by Norma and her Navigators, Josef’s well-armed ships reappeared in a tight cluster high above the capital planet. Knowing the amount of space traffic around Salusa, Norma had intentionally brought them to the upper fringe of the primary orbital lanes, where the VenHold ships need not worry about colliding with the bustle of governmental and commercial vessels. Nevertheless, it was a show of force that could not be denied.

At their stations, the VenHold crewmembers on the Navigator deck breathed a sigh of relief. “We are in a safe position for battle, Directeur. All VenHold vessels present and accounted for. Weapons ready.”

“They’ve seen us, sir!”

On the wide screen Josef saw the orbiting Salusan ships suddenly move erratically, like fish stirred in a bowl. He smiled. “Of course they have. That is our intent.” He would let them see and absorb the sheer military might he had brought with him—the biggest stick in the Imperium.

“Will you be addressing the people, Directeur?” asked the comm officer.

Josef placed his hands behind his back and walked slowly away from Norma’s tank. “Not yet. I want to give them time to think about the power we have brought to bear on them. Let them feel the crisis in their bones before I deliver my ultimatum to Roderick Corrino.”

From the bridge of one of the adjacent spacefolders, Draigo Roget reported. “The Emperor’s defensive fleet appears to be even smaller than anticipated, Directeur—no more than a hundred warships—and none of them a match for ours. What happened to all the rest? Our earlier intelligence suggested another full strike force here, but those ships are not in sight.”

Josef was concerned. “Are they otherwise deployed?”

“I cannot make that projection, sir,” the Mentat said.

Josef looked at the flurry of orbital activity, the trading and diplomatic vessels trying to escape while the greatly outnumbered Imperial military ships scrambled to form a defensive line. “Send no transmissions just yet. The Emperor will demand to know why I have come, and then he’ll ask for my terms.” He had decided that Roderick should bare his throat in some way, to prove that he understood where the true power lay. “And then he will surrender, but it’ll just be a formality. Afterward, we can put all this behind us.”