Brian Herbert - Navigators of Dune

But not impossible.

One of his engineers developed a simple communications limpet, a device that if attached to the hull of another ship could link up a narrow-beam comm network that could not be intercepted. Harte’s flagship secretly dispatched several limpet-comms using compressed air, which left no energy signature. The drifting limpet-comms struck adjacent vessels, which neatly connected the Admiral in point-to-point transmissions with several other captains. After a number of excruciating days and failed attempts, they were all connected in a private network, and their VenHold captors could not eavesdrop on them. From there, Admiral Harte and his captains covertly planned their escape.

Once Directeur Venport and his assault fleet were gone, leaving Kolhar relatively unguarded, Harte signaled his ships, gave a shortened timetable for action, and when all the pieces were in place and his soldiers were ready, he sent the activation signal.

The breakout was on. They would have but one chance, one window of opportunity.

Everyone understood it was an all-or-nothing gambit, and that they would likely be executed if they failed. The soldiers also knew that Salusa Secundus would be under attack by their enemy, so there was more at stake than just their own welfare. They had all the incentive they needed. They would succeed.

But his hostage ships aboard the carrier did not have Holtzman engines, only standard faster-than-light drives, and even if they broke free of the prison ship, it would take weeks for them to reach Salusa.

Admiral Harte had a more ambitious plan than that. He intended to seize this entire foldspace carrier and fly them directly to Salusa, coercing the Navigator if necessary—but his people had never used Navigators before, so they could be resistant. One way or another, they would be home free.…

The plan went into activation. As Harte watched the seconds tick down, four of his widely spaced ships powered up their restored weapons. At the same instant, they opened fire with a long and powerful salvo inside the carrier’s hold. Venport thought he had neutralized all the firing controls when he took the ships hostage, but Harte’s engineers had rebuilt the systems from scratch.

Now their weapons fired at the opposite interior walls of the VenHold carrier, blasting through the exterior shell. The gunners had chosen their targets carefully so as not to harm the carrier’s Holtzman engines, which Admiral Harte hoped to use, but the damage to the spacefolder’s hull was dramatic and extensive.

The unexpected blasts caused an immediate uproar inside the VenHold carrier-ship, exactly as expected. Harte shouted over his comm-system. “Time to move!”

While the VenHold crew responded to the internal attack, the Admiral—whose flagship was directly connected to the access hatches into the main body of the carrier—stormed the connecting tunnel with his soldiers.

Two thousand loyal Imperial fighters, armed with hand weapons from the flagship’s sealed armory, surged out while the VenHold crew was still reeling from the multiple blasts that had pierced the outer hull. Shaped explosive charges blew down the barricade door, giving Harte’s team access to the main decks. They ran into the VenHold carrier.

The Admiral led them at a run to the carrier’s command center and Navigator deck. This was no stealth mission; racing forward, they gunned down any VenHold employee who tried to stand in the way. They had to make it to the engine controls. Anyone in their way fell to a barrage of weapons fire.

Alarms shrieked throughout the carrier, and damage reports blared from speakerpatches in the walls. VenHold staff and crew streamed out of their work stations, as Harte’s troops climbed to higher levels. Leaving bodies in their wake, they captured deck after deck, until they finally blasted through the last set of armored doors and charged onto the Navigator deck.

The carrier’s piloting deck was surrounded by technological systems and broad viewing windows—and in the center, a large sealed tank held a mutated Navigator obscured by orange clouds of spice gas. The creature stared out at them with oversized, inhuman eyes, as if his prescience had told him that ruthless invaders would arrive at any moment.

Harte strode up to the tank. “We’ve taken control of your ship.”

“You may believe so.” The Navigator’s voice seemed to come from a great distance.

“Yes, I do. In fact, I know so.”

Imperial fighters swarmed onto the deck, yanking terrified VenHold employees from their seats, killing one woman who resisted; the rest surrendered. Three of Harte’s technical officers rushed to the Navigator tank and disconnected the fittings to the nav-systems. Harte had specifically chosen fighters who were familiar with foldspace engines and piloting. They severed the linkages to the Navigator tank so that the mutated creature could no longer control the carrier.

“He’s neutralized, Admiral,” announced one of his tech officers. Unlike Norma Cenva, who could fold space with her mind, the other Navigators required a direct connection to the Holtzman engines.

The Navigator stared blankly at them, while other soldiers went to the control panels. Frantically, they studied the activation systems, ready to launch out of orbit and fold space.

“We don’t have much time,” Harte called. “Kolhar will soon respond and cut off this vessel. We have to fly this carrier out of here.”

“Firing up the foldspace engines now, sir. Setting course for Salusa Secundus.”

Harte stood before the Navigator tank. “What is your name?”

“Navigator.”

“What was your human name?”

“It was…” The creature seemed to be searching deep into his past. “Dobrec … but Navigator is all that matters now.”

The deck trembled as Harte’s captive Imperial ships within the great hold blasted more holes through the outer hull, careful not to endanger the integrity of the main structural framework. Even with numerous holes in its outer shell, the giant carrier could carry them through folded space back to the Imperial capital.

“Tell all our hostage ships that we’ve taken control of the carrier, and we’ll be home soon.” Harte directed his pilots to activate the carrier’s Holtzman drive. Thrumming increased throughout the decks as the foldspace engines gathered power.

The Navigator—Dobrec—blinked his large, soulless eyes. “You do not know how to navigate. There is danger in flying this ship without the prescience of my guidance.”

The Admiral glared. “Then guide us—or risk dying with the rest of us. Your choice.”

One of the tech officers cried out, “VenHold interceptors closing in fast, sir. If they damage our Holtzman engines, we’ll never break orbit. We have to go.”

“Activate those engines now,” Harte snapped, then turned to the Navigator. “If you have any suggestions for course adjustments, tell us now.”

He felt a smooth machine sensation as the engines went on.

Dobrec remained silent, as if accessing data. “I suggest a slight alteration to avoid colliding with a double star en route.” He specified a variant set of coordinates.

“How do I know you’re not going to fly us directly into a sun?”

“You must gamble as well. You must believe that I do not wish to die any more than you do. I still have too much of the universe to see and experience.”

Harte stared at the mutated Navigator in the tank, but could read nothing on the strange, distorted features. He barked to his surrogate navigator at the controls. “Alter course as Dobrec says.”

The soldier swallowed hard and made the change.

As VenHold ships rushed to close in around the embattled foldspace carrier, Admiral Harte drew a deep breath and nodded. His soldiers trusted him implicitly, and engaged the Holtzman engines.