Brian Herbert - Navigators of Dune

Now, though, he was there in person. “What a magnificent sight,” he said.

Nearly a hundred enlarged brains hung inside their fluid-filled tanks—whether resting or contemplating, Anna didn’t know. Fifteen tanks were missing from their slots, because those Navigator brains were out testing new cymek walkers, practicing combat and manipulation skills for the ultimate assault on the Butlerian homeworld. “I would like to explore these specimens further, conduct interesting experiments. Maybe I could link up to the communications conduits, so I can converse with them.”

That was not at all what Anna had in mind. “But not right now—there’s something far more important.” When she took both his hands, her heart was pounding. She knew what she wanted, but was afraid to ask for it. Her breathing was shallow, and the sterile air burned her nose and throat. She leaned closer, touching the muscles of his body, holding his hands, and then she released one of them and ran her fingers across his chest. It felt so good to touch someone again.

“There are many more parts to being human, Erasmus dear, experiences you’ve never had. I want to be the first. I want to instruct you.”

“I’m sure I will find it most interesting,” he said.

She stopped him from talking further by pulling his face close and kissing him. It was her first kiss in a very long time, and the first for Erasmus, ever.

For several moments his lips remained motionless, but she stroked the side of his face and kissed him again. She let her eyelids fall closed, then forced herself to open them again so that she could look into his eyes. Erasmus had a perplexed, even amused expression, a glint that traveled all the way from his memory core.

Around them, the Navigator brains didn’t seem to notice at all.

She felt the solidity of his body as she wrapped her arms around him. Anna kissed him again, and slowly he began to respond as if it were a learned experience. Then she broke away. “You will enjoy what I have to offer, I promise.” She took his hand and led him out of the laboratory vault.

Understanding her intent, he said, “I am what humans call a virgin. This will be a valuable experiment.”

When they had sealed themselves in her chamber, she pulled off his laboratory jumpsuit, even ripping some of the fabric in her eagerness. Although she had watched this body grow from a small lump of flesh into a finished naked body inside the biological tank, it was still a delicious discovery as she pulled away his garments now.

Erasmus had studied human history and witnessed sexual relations over the years. He had kept innumerable human slaves in his laboratory pens. “I’m familiar with the mechanics of the procreation process, and have read much of the mystique about sex, but my knowledge has always been objective, never subjective.”

She pulled him down onto her narrow bed and crawled on top of him. Erasmus allowed himself to be pliable in her hands. “Not procreation, Erasmus. Lovemaking . And I want to make love to you now.”

She had to take his hands and make him start removing her clothes, then she guided him to touch her body, to run his hands over her shoulders, her back, her breasts. At first, he simply followed instructions, but she encouraged him to be imaginative. As a lifelong researcher, Erasmus certainly understood the possibilities of experimentation.

Anna felt as if her world had become bright and soft again. She hadn’t taken a lover since Hirondo Nef, who had made her promises, told her lies, seduced her, filled her with silly dreams. Salvador had ruined that relationship, although Anna now realized—thanks to a careful analysis by Erasmus—that Hirondo had only been using her, taking advantage of her. Anna knew that no one had ever really loved her before this, not in the way she wanted and deserved. No one understood her as much as Erasmus did.

He spoke little as she continued to kiss him, and massaged his back. Her every move, her every gesture went into a database, and he catalogued it along with what he knew about human romance and sexuality. Though he was a thinking-machine mind, the body was fully human and it knew how to respond.

ERASMUS STORED EVERY sensation. This was indeed a new set of unusual experiences—made even more instructive, but also baffling, as he chronicled the joy and ecstasy on Anna’s face, her adoring expression after they had finished the biological activity.

The sensual movements had a ritualistic, prolonged manner that did not seem to be a particularly efficient means of reproduction, taking much longer than was absolutely required. Nevertheless, it was a fine example of the experimental possibilities the new body offered him.

Afterward, she lay close beside him, kissing his cheek and stroking his hair. Erasmus didn’t entirely understand this epilogue, although he had read about it in countless romantic poems and stories. She didn’t seem to want more from him, only this nearness. Because it seemed to be an essential part of the activity for her, he held her and said nothing.

“I love you, Erasmus,” she said.

He filed away all the data of his new experiences.

After leaving Chusuk and beginning to spread rumors that he would go to ground on Corrin, Vorian Atreides had one more important matter to take care of. If the Harkonnens left him alone, he would be surprised yet content, but if they came for him—as he expected—he intended to be ready.

When he arrived at Salusa Secundus, he was surprised to see so many Butlerian warships in orbit as well as huge crowds encamped in Zimia. But his business was with the Emperor, not the antitechnology movement.

He announced himself to spaceport security and asked to see Emperor Roderick, hoping the new ruler was an improvement from petty Salvador, who had caused Vor so many problems. He did not hide his identity, though—for this occasion he needed to be the legendary Hero of the Jihad, not a man trying to erase his past.

He intended to ask a favor, for Willem’s sake. In all his years—centuries, in fact—of service, Vorian Atreides had asked for very little. His request would not threaten the Imperium, but it mattered a great deal to him.

The guards searched him at the entrance to the Palace, checked his identity papers, and then looked at one another in startled confusion.

“Yes, I am Vorian Atreides,” he repeated his name. “I am confident the Emperor knows who I am. As do you, I assume?”

The guards placed him in a comfortable holding room and told him to wait. It was not a particularly auspicious welcome for a man of his stature, but Vor understood the caution. Because of a recent VenHold attack on Salusa and the chaotic influx of so many Butlerians, Imperial security had been increased to the highest levels.

After six hours, he was escorted from the holding chamber with profuse apologies from Chamberlain Bakim. The man greeted him cordially, apologized again, and led Vor away from the Palace to the Hall of Parliament in the center of the capital city, where the flags of noble houses hung from the golden-domed building and all around the large central square.

The chamberlain took him to Roderick’s well-appointed Parliament office, where the Emperor was pacing beside his desk. Roderick Corrino gave him a strong handshake and said, “I regret the delay in seeing you, but the Imperial capital has recently been under siege—in more ways than one.” The Emperor sighed, ran his hands through his own hair. “With all the turmoil in the Imperium, I thought you were long gone, making a quiet life for yourself.”