Brian Herbert - Navigators of Dune

On the Navigator deck of his flagship, Josef felt the tension build as the standoff continued. Why did Roderick refuse to respond? What was he waiting for? The Imperial defenders over Salusa were afraid to open fire, because they knew they would be destroyed by retaliatory strikes. The giant cymeks under Josef’s control stood on the outskirts of Zimia, ready to be unleashed. It was only a matter of time.

He didn’t want to devastate the capital city: the people would hate him, and there would be disastrous financial consequences, as well as historical ignominy for Josef. But the Emperor was taking his damned time even acknowledging his defeat! If Roderick backed down, restored VenHold finances, and erased the charges against Josef, this could all be over.

Josef transmitted with an edge to his voice, “There’s no need for us to be on opposing sides, Roderick Corrino. If you are the man I believe you are, then you’ll want to do what’s best for all of humanity. We must discuss terms.”

Before the cowering Emperor could answer, though, alarms blared on the Navigator deck as another fleet appeared out of nowhere. Josef’s subcommanders responded with confusion, and he ran to the nearest screen to see a group of spacefolder warships—nearly 140. He blinked, unable to process all the signal blips on the tactical projections. “Where did they come from? Who are they?”

“Antique models, Directeur,” Draigo transmitted after only an instant of assessment. “They date back to the Army of the Jihad.”

When magnification displayed the enhanced images, Josef felt a chill, followed by a hot surge of anger. The garish and ominous symbol of the Butlerian movement was painted on the hulls: a black human fist clenched around a red machine gear.

The loathsome Manford Torondo suddenly appeared on the comm channels, broadcasting to all of Salusa Secundus, as if he were some sort of a holy savior. He offered his assistance to the besieged Emperor.

Now the reason became clear—Roderick had been waiting for this, playing for time!

Josef was outraged. This unexpected force of Butlerian warships changed the balance of the conflict. Even with their inferior weapons and shields, the extra 140 warships joined with the Imperial defense fleet made the odds more even. And the reckless fanatics were willing to fight in suicidal fashion, which made them far more dangerous.

No wonder Roderick had dithered and remained incommunicado! This must have been a trick. Josef felt another twist of betrayal. Had the Emperor’s demonstrably weak Salusan force merely been bait to lure Josef’s ships here and trap them? So that VenHold would think they had an assured victory?

“Roderick couldn’t possibly have known about our siege,” Josef said. “And the savages could never have responded from Lampadas in time.”

“Manford does not have Navigators,” said Norma, sounding distracted inside her tank. She did not even acknowledge the arrival of the Butlerians. “But I sense another emergency elsewhere.…” She placed her splayed hands against the windowport. Her distorted face was filled with alarm. “An emergency I cannot ignore—”

Even before the half-Manford had finished speaking, Josef shouted to his command crew. “Prepare for immediate attack.”

He knew Roderick also hated Manford, blaming the fanatical leader for the murder of his daughter and the disappearance of his sister. A rational man would never ally himself with such a monster as Manford Torondo.

“The spice!” Norma cried in an eerie voice. “It is in danger!”

But Josef was focused on the immediate space battle threatening them. “I will see that your Navigators get spice, Grandmother. We have more important matters right now.” He turned to his tactical officer for an answer.

“We still outnumber them, Directeur. And our warships are superior in every way.”

Manford Torondo, though, didn’t seem to care. The Butlerian forces raced pell-mell into the already crowded Salusan orbit. What could one expect from a pack of wild humans? Watching their clumsy and frantic maneuvers, Josef flashed a harsh grin. If he decimated the Butlerians right here, that would take care of another one of his problems.

“Then let’s demonstrate our superiority. Cut them to pieces!”

ON THE BRIDGE of the main Butlerian ship, Anari Idaho stood beside Manford’s custom chair. She gripped her sword, which was of no use in a space battle, but she held it like a talisman. She also possessed a great deal of tactical and strategic expertise, thanks to her training on Ginaz. Manford relied on her.

Propped upright in his specially modified chair, he stared at the screens. He had never expected to find Venport here, but this was an extraordinary opportunity, although the battle would cost him a great many ships. A worthwhile sacrifice, however. A satisfied smile crossed his face. “This is a miracle. Once we save Emperor Roderick, he will be beholden to us.”

“We can defeat the machine lovers.” Anari was utterly confident. “They may have better ships, but we have superior souls. Destiny is on our side.”

Manford’s antiquated warships soared forward, opening fire often before the gunners had acquired locks on their targets. The front ranks were merely cannon fodder, a vanguard filled with those who had already volunteered to be martyr soldiers.

With immense pride, Manford watched his ships move forward, saw how the VenHold vessels had entwined themselves like a cancer around the far-outnumbered Imperial Armed Forces. He had flown here from Lampadas on a mission of his own, so he had no idea how long the demon Venport had besieged Salusa, but Manford would smash that siege now—even if it cost him most of his fleet and many dead.

It would be worth the price. He could always find more converts. In fact, seeing the bravery of his Butlerian fighters, many witnesses on Salusa would join the movement, and his ranks would swell more than enough to make up for the losses.

Assuming that Manford survived—and he had no doubt he would, by God’s graces—he would insist that the grateful Emperor provide him with more warships so the Butlerians could continue the fight until Venport and his machine-loving comrades were eradicated and humanity’s soul was pure again.

“‘The mind of man is holy,’” he whispered.

“‘The mind of man is holy,’” Anari intoned. On the bridge, the rest of his followers responded in kind.

The Butlerian ships drove forward to what would surely be a titanic clash. Manford narrowed his gaze and watched as the expendable vessels reached orbit and opened fire in eerie silence. When the VenHold battleships retaliated, Manford could see that his followers were in for a bloodbath.

EMBOLDENED, THE IMPERIAL defense forces also opened fire as Josef’s fleet engaged the oncoming Butlerians. One of the orbiting Imperial ships shot at a nearby VenHold vessel. The defensive shields held and damage was minimal … but the equally brash VenHold captain responded without orders—and vaporized the Imperial ship.

Josef yelled across the comm, “I said crippling shots only!” He knew this was problematic. “But feel free to destroy as many of the barbarians as you can.”

Now all the Butlerians charged into the fray, wildly opening fire. The VenHold ships were forced to respond with all their weaponry. Silent explosions peppered space, and two of the fanatic ships were wiped out in the first salvo. But their crews didn’t even seem to care. They kept coming, using their available weapons.