Brian Herbert - Navigators of Dune

“I stayed away, Sire—as your brother commanded. Emperor Salvador made that a condition before he would agree to protect Kepler against raids by slavers. I did as he asked, and tried to let history swallow me, but as it turned out, my own history would not leave me alone.”

The restrictions had created much heartache for him, making him leave Mariella and all of his extended family on Kepler, but Salvador’s insecurity was not to be disputed at the time. Vor drew a breath, met the Emperor’s gaze directly. “I promise I will depart swiftly and cause you no further trouble, Sire. I came here to beg a favor. I hope you will grant it.”

Roderick sat down, looking cautious, and dismissed the chamberlain, who hurried off to other duties. “That’s better than you challenging me for the throne. I’ve had enough of that in the past week.” The attempt at witticism fell flat, and he grew serious. “I have always admired your war record and sense of duty, Vorian Atreides. You are a genuine hero, and we have few enough of those. But these are not the best of times to ask for favors.”

“It is small enough, Sire. A family matter—in fact, you can ensure the future of my family.”

An aide came to the door, signaling the Emperor. “The pilot of your flyer reports that all is ready for the inspection flight, Sire.”

Roderick turned. “Join me, and we can continue our conversation on board. It will be good to get away from Zimia and the mobs down there.” Vor followed the Emperor out into the corridor, while he continued to explain, “We recently had a flood disaster, and the Empress Haditha is managing relief efforts, but in my position I am expected to fly over and inspect. It will rally greater support.”

Vor was concerned. “Do you need my assistance, Sire?”

The Emperor considered for a long moment. “Your advice might be helpful, but the legendary Hero of the Jihad could distract our work crews. Let’s have a look together, and we can talk further.”

An escort contingent led them to the roof level of the Hall of Parliament, where a large Imperial flyer awaited them, with the Emperor’s dark-robed Truthsayer, Reverend Mother Fielle, standing at the ramp. As the two men boarded the craft, Vor looked sidelong at her and suppressed his smile. This was an opportunity he could not pass up, and he would be sure she had important information to send back to the Sisterhood school.…

As the engines hummed and the aircraft prepared for takeoff, the men entered the Emperor’s main stateroom as Fielle trailed them. The Imperial flyer had a customized interior with posh fabrics on the walls, and inset crystal glowglobes. In the central salon, uniformed attendants were laying out a meal on a table with two place settings. While Fielle remained unobtrusive on one side of the cabin, in her Truthsayer mode, the Emperor motioned for Vor to take the seat opposite him.

Roderick explained more about the flood. “A week ago we had a freak summer storm. Several major settlements in a river delta were flooded, thousands died, and many more were displaced. Haditha is already out there with the first wave of recovery crews. It’s something she is quite capable of managing, while I am supposed to concern myself with more important Imperial matters. Even so, I want to tour some of the worst areas.”

Vor nodded. “For those affected, a local disaster can be as significant as a galactic one.”

“I face enough galactic disasters, too, but I am certainly glad my wife is in charge down there. I wish the Butlerians would make themselves useful in the relief efforts, but Leader Torondo does not seem inclined to let his people help.” His face darkened. “Ever.”

The aircraft lifted off so smoothly that Vor barely felt the motion. Staff brought plates of sliced meats and bread, and the Emperor relaxed as he ate. The flyer cruised away from the capital city like a huge bird, and soared out over the lush Salusan landscape.

Roderick set his fork down. “Tell me the answer to something that has long raised questions in my mind. House Atreides could have been one of the greatest and wealthiest noble families in the Landsraad, if you had asked for that. Faykan was ready to give you anything after the Battle of Corrin. No one would say that you are a man lacking in ambition. Why would you just … discard it all, throwing away the potential of your Great House?”

Vor took a drink of fresh juice from a wide-bottomed glass. “I never wanted that kind of wealth or power, Sire.” He glanced over at Fielle, and the Truthsayer simply nodded to Roderick, acknowledging that he truly meant what he said. The Emperor did not seem to doubt it, regardless. “I had enough of grand gestures and countless lives depending on my every decision. I just wanted to be a normal man again, at least for a while.”

Vor pictured the opulence of the mansions on old Earth, when he had lived among the thinking machines. He thought of his father, General Agamemnon, the cymek who had laid waste to countless planets … and pondered how many fortunes he himself had made and lost in his extended life.

“At times, that sounds wonderful to me. I never wanted the throne either.” Roderick nodded with respect. “The Imperium shall forever be grateful to you, Vorian Atreides. Yes, if your favor is within my power, I will grant it. I lift all the restrictions my brother imposed upon you. Travel wherever you wish, live where you’d like—is that what you want?”

“Thank you, Sire. But my request is even more straightforward than that.”

Already several hundred kilometers away from Zimia, the Imperial flyer cruised over a sweeping valley. When they reached the flooded river zone and flew low, both men peered out upon the devastation. By now the surging river had receded, leaving destroyed houses, land vehicles, and boats in its wake. Dead farm animals lay strewn on the ground. From above, they could see antlike teams of rescue workers digging in the sediment, setting up temporary settlements and relief camps.

The Emperor pondered the view gravely as the craft cruised over the swath of devastation. He finally looked up at his guest. “What is it you need me to do for you?”

“Sire, I want my descendants to have the opportunities that should be their birthright. I think I have earned the right to request this. They are Atreides, with a proud and distinguished heritage. They should be treated as such, even if I would prefer to disappear myself.”

Roderick flashed a wan smile. “I want the same for my son Javicco. I hope the Corrino line keeps the throne for more than a few generations, but that will depend on how well I steer through these perilous times. So many forces are trying to tear the Imperium apart right now.” He pushed aside the rest of his meal and stared out the window as the flyer circled into the foothills, where another village had been damaged by mudslides. “What family do you have? I believe there are some on Kepler—?”

“And they are perfectly content. I have no wish to draw them into Imperial politics. But one descendant from my Caladan line—a young man named Willem—has become especially important to me. Right now he is on Chusuk recovering from injuries, but I would like to arrange a place for him on Salusa Secundus. Give him a chance, Sire. He’s intelligent and pleasant, but he has suffered recent tragedies, partly because of me, and I’d like to make it up to him. I can deposit all the funds he needs to support himself, if you can find an opportunity for him at court? A respectable spot among the new arrivals?”

Roderick seemed relieved that the request was not far more significant. He gave a quick wave. “I can’t remember the last time I had a problem so easily solved. Of course I grant your most reasonable request. The Imperium owes you much more than that, and my court could certainly use the qualities of an Atreides.”