Brian Herbert - Navigators of Dune

A thunderous wave of cheers buffeted him on Anari’s shoulders. Manford raised his hands, and the thunder grew even louder.

For a moment, unwanted thoughts about Erasmus and his forbidden journals slid insidiously into his mind, intrusive images of the diabolical thinking machine that had enslaved and tortured so many humans. Erasmus had loved to stand before throngs of oppressed captives. But Manford knew those downtrodden people had never cheered the evil machine like this. Erasmus had never been beloved; he had simply been feared.

He remembered what the robot had written. “Humans are a resource, a tool, a weapon—but only if used properly. I continue to study methods of manipulating their emotions, their biological programming. At best they are flawed tools and weak weapons. But there are so many of them.”

There are so many of them.

Manford smiled at the crowd of admirers. He spotted Headmaster Zendur and scores of new, approved students from the reformed Mentat School. The rest of these followers came from other worlds, pilgrims who journeyed to Lampadas to prove their devotion for him. This planet could not support them for long. They would have to be unleashed elsewhere, and soon.

“My friends and followers,” he said, “you gladden my soul. You make me certain that we will win the final battle.”

The tumult of cheers died to a surprisingly quiet murmur. His voice was broadcast on speakers across the city. It was abhorrent advanced technology, he knew, but necessary, and Manford had given a special dispensation to the Committee of Orthodoxy, asserting that such communications systems were vital to the Butlerian movement and therefore approved.

“I am here to announce an important victory on Kolhar, where our forces dealt a fatal blow to Josef Venport and his enclave of machine lovers.” The rest of his words were drowned out in another tidal wave of sound.

He would not mention the atomics for now.

From his shirt he removed the small painted icon that he kept with him at all times: Rayna surrounded by an angelic aura. His gaze lingered on it. “Rayna Butler would be proud of what we’ve accomplished, but our great struggle is not yet over. I need you more than ever, all of you. Even though we have crushed the stronghold of our greatest enemy, we must make certain Emperor Roderick guides humanity on the proper path. And I am the one to show him.”

More cheers, which lasted several minutes, during which time Manford could not talk, and could barely think. Though Anari stood as still as a statue, he felt her grow tense beneath him.

Finally the crowd quieted enough for him to continue, “Some of you may be required to become martyrs—and that is a glorious privilege.” Manford quoted an ancient rebel. “‘The tree of liberty must be fertilized with the blood of martyrs.’ Before going back to the Emperor, we will seize what remains of Venport Holdings, the ships in his Spacing Fleet, the monstrous Navigators. We will put an end to all known VenHold operations. Only then will we go to Salusa and make the Emperor see what we have accomplished. He dare not oppose us.” Manford smiled at them, and the roaring of their voices went on and on.

Anari had not heard this plan before. In a voice only for him, she said, “It will be a slaughter if the Emperor does not clear the way for us to enter the capital peacefully. A slaughter on both sides.”

Manford nodded, knowing that even a slaughter would be to his advantage. “The more of us who die gloriously, the more recruits we will gain.”

After two weeks, Hana Elkora and her salvage team at the mothballed thinking-machine fleet managed to reactivate the FTL engines of twenty-five of the forty vessels. Meanwhile, Elkora had directed a skeleton crew to fly the robot ships back to Denali, one by one, where the rest of the repairs and refurbishment were completed. Kolhar had already delivered shipments of Holtzman engines immediately after Draigo sent his request, and the foldspace engines would be installed while the ships orbited the research planet.

Elkora had ejected thousands of deactivated robots that cluttered the decks of the reclaimed ships—“taking out the garbage,” as she called it—while hundreds more were found and removed during the final operations at Denali, and all the robots were simply dumped near the laboratory domes, where they would be left to rust in the corrosive atmosphere, just like the old cymek walkers. The Mentat was proud of his progress and felt eager to report to Directeur Venport.

And then Draigo learned what had happened at Kolhar.

USING A SMALL spacefolder, Norma Cenva quietly delivered Cioba to Salusa Secundus. With her perfect mastery of coordinates, the Navigator woman deposited her passenger in a secluded meadow on the outskirts of Zimia. Cioba could see the magnificent buildings of the capital city a short distance away, and a gravel footpath just ahead led her to a groundcar road and the Imperial Palace. The walk took her an hour.

Crowds moved toward the Palace like iron filings toward a magnet. Dressed in the robes of a nondescript Sister, Cioba made her way with a clear sense of purpose until a trio of Imperial guards stopped her from entering the main archway, demanding to know her identity.

“I am Sister Cioba, and I have business with the Emperor’s Truthsayer. Surely you recognize my robes?” Although Mother Superior Valya had refused to use her own influence to resolve the dispute, Cioba hoped that Fielle would help arrange for a brief conversation with Emperor Roderick. The Sisterhood owed her that, at least.

It took Cioba most of the day to navigate the labyrinth of the city-sized Palace among thousands of functionaries. At sunset, after contacting several other Sisters for guidance, she finally located Fielle in the echoing south hall. The large-statured Truthsayer greeted her with a cautious smile. “You take an enormous risk by coming here. After your husband threatened Salusa, the Emperor certainly has no great love for him.”

Fielle must know that this was not a social call. Trying to suppress her agitation, Cioba said in a crisp voice, “I had to come here. The Butlerians have committed unforgivable crimes against humanity. No matter how the Emperor feels about my husband, he must be made to see who the real enemy is. Please help by arranging for me to speak with him, just briefly. I need him to listen to me.”

The Truthsayer frowned, sensing her urgency as well as the truth in her words. “I suggest an indirect but more effective route. I might be able to arrange for you to speak with Haditha.”

The Emperor’s wife came within the hour, curious but wary. Fielle led her to a sitting room where Cioba waited. Seeing her, Haditha became tense and guarded, but Cioba preferred it to the vengeful anger that would have come from Roderick. This might be her only chance.

The two women looked at each other in silence while the Truthsayer stood as an intermediary, neither interfering nor helping. “I shouldn’t be talking with you,” Haditha said. “Roderick has declared your husband a fugitive from Imperial justice. Josef Venport assassinated his brother.”

Cioba gave a slight nod. “And your husband has done everything in his power to destroy us and bankrupt Venport Holdings. We can’t always excuse the actions of the men we love. When two such forces collide, the collateral damage ripples throughout the Imperium. Far better if they were just to talk, don’t you think?”