Brian Herbert - Navigators of Dune

As the woman tried to struggle to her feet, Valya stood over her. The goading had worked. “No truly trained Sister would ever let herself be provoked into such rash responses. For your own good, stay down! If you get back on your feet, I cannot prevent Deborah from killing you. It was not wise to challenge her as you did. She was merely trying to demonstrate your weaknesses—for your benefit.”

Ninke glared up at Valya. “You intended for me to be injured. You arranged for it to happen—just as you found a way to eliminate Sister Esther-Cano. Will I be the next to die? Or do you think my wayward mind can be retrained?”

Valya was startled by the bold statement of facts. “I am your Mother Superior. Your fate is for me to decide.”

Ignoring the pain of her broken arm, Ninke struggled to a sitting position. She looked at the other trainees watching them. “It does not escape our notice, Mother Superior , that Orthodox Sisters are assigned the worst jobs. Two of our number have been forced to become unwilling birth mothers—is that meant to humiliate, or is it an integral part of your rumored breeding program?” She narrowed her gaze. “Where are the computers you use to keep track of the genetic records?”

“Dorotea embarrassed herself by making such ludicrous accusations,” Valya said, “and in doing so she nearly brought down the Sisterhood. Salvador’s thugs found no evidence to support her absurd claims, but still they killed many of us and drove us from Rossak—all because of wild, unproven claims. Watch yourself.”

“Just because they found nothing doesn’t mean the computers weren’t there. We never stopped believing they existed.”

“Believing something and proving it are two different things. Report to the clinic, Sister Ninke, and get medical treatment for your arm.”

Ninke backed away, favoring her injured arm but never taking her gaze away from the Sorceress, who stood poised and ready to kill at the Mother Superior’s command. Deborah’s blood was up, making her a dangerous weapon that needed to stand down and shut off.

As Ninke walked unsteadily toward the medical clinic, Valya called after her, “You will thank me one day for this, because it will make you stronger.”

LATE THAT AFTERNOON, Valya returned to the school complex to find Tula waiting for her at the private dining table. The watchers had delivered her safely from Chusuk, but Tula didn’t look pleased about it.

The young woman rose to her feet and bowed, as if Valya were a complete stranger. She showed no warmth at seeing her older sister, but this did not cause Valya to dampen her own enthusiasm. “I am delighted you’ve returned to us. Are you well? You look quite pale.”

“Tired from the trip, and from the trouble on Chusuk.” When Valya responded with a blank look, Tula added, “Two of the Atreides located me there, but they paid a price. You sent guards to watch over me, and they … took care of the threat.” She sounded resentful.

Valya drew in a quick breath. “Are the Atreides dead?”

Tula shook her head. “Injured only. Vorian and Willem.”

Valya caught her breath. “Vorian Atreides came after you himself? And you allowed him to live?”

“We were in a crowded place, with many witnesses, and security guards who got in our way. He and Willem were soundly defeated. That was enough.” Her voice hitched. “Don’t you think so too? Can’t we put an end to the killing, or must it continue for the rest of time? Is that what you want?”

Scowling, Valya said, “I want the Harkonnens to be strong again, and that means the Atreides must be weak, or dead.” She brightened. “Even so, I am glad you’ve returned to us, safe. And now that we know for certain Vorian Atreides is looking for you, I will send out my operatives. We will locate him again, and next time I’ll use all the resources of the Sisterhood to finish him off.”

Instead of the happy response Valya had hoped for, her sister merely ate the rest of her meal in silence.

The loss of the huge spice bank on Arrakis was a disaster by any measure, and Josef had not even begun to calculate the second- and third-order costs to Venport Holdings. The initial investigation suggested that the raiders had used giant sandworms.

The stunning attack revealed a considerable vulnerability, of which he had been entirely unaware. Not only had the catastrophe cost him an incalculable fortune in spice to be sold throughout the Imperium, Norma’s Navigators would now face short supplies. And because she had pulled all of his battleships away from the siege of Salusa in response to the raid, Josef had lost that gambit as well.

A cascade of setbacks.

Knowing how much his great-grandmother valued and protected her Navigators, he wasn’t surprised she would rush off to save the spice bank—but, oh, the damage she had done in that moment of almost certain victory. It made the VenHold fleet look like skittish, impotent cowards, running away from Roderick Corrino and the half-Manford’s capering savages. The timing could not have been worse.

Now it would require all of his capabilities to rebound. The victory he sought was not about achieving wealth and power, but to safeguard humanity’s future. If he let the antitechnology fanatics win, the human race would certainly face an unprecedented dark age.

He left part of his fleet at Arrakis to make damned certain no one threatened his spice operations again. Josef and his remaining ships returned to Kolhar, where he could regroup and prepare his next move. He looked forward to seeing Cioba again. She would help him decide what to do.

But when the VenHold ships arrived at the headquarters planet, his wife had more bad news for him. While the bulk of the warships had been away, Admiral Umberto Harte had staged a daring overthrow of the foldspace carrier that had been holding his Imperial battle group hostage. They were gone.

Cioba showed him images as he stared in disbelief. “They nearly tore the hull apart, then made their way to the Navigator deck and took control.” She turned her dark eyes downward. “I sent ships to intercept them, but the carrier folded space and vanished before we could block their way.”

Josef reeled, feeling as if another giant boulder had crashed down on him from an unexpected direction. Norma Cenva, in her tank, listened and finally pronounced in a grave, eerie voice, “The Emperor has captured one of my Navigators.”

Josef struggled to control his anger. He refused to let yet another disaster destroy him. He would find a way to snatch a victory out of even this collapse. He was Josef Venport, Directeur of Venport Holdings, and he refused to throw away a lifetime of work— generations of work.

Canceling all meetings, he locked himself in his high tower offices, asking to be alone. Brooding, he paced the room and looked out the plaz windows at the bustle of arriving and departing ships on the landing field. He worked out which part of the problem to tackle first.

Even with Harte’s ships returned to the Imperial Armed Forces, it wasn’t likely the Emperor would come to Kolhar, or Arrakis, in a direct attack. Emperor Roderick badly needed the reinforcements at Salusa, and although Admiral Harte’s ships were not spacefolders, they did represent a significant military force. They could defend the planet, if Josef ever attempted his siege again. And who knew what the Butlerians might do with all those antique ships?

Worse, though, they had kidnapped one of his Navigators!