Brian Herbert - Navigators of Dune

The Queen of Trash nodded toward the group. “Our devices tune the collapsed flowmetal underpinnings to resonant frequencies, and that makes the substance mobile. Working together, my teams can coerce it into containers for shipping. It’ll be worth a fortune, if we ever resume regular trade throughout the Imperium again.”

That evening, Korla invited Vor to dine with her in an underground dwelling formed out of the frozen flowmetal to create a cavelike, sheltered place. The two sat at an irregular black table that had been shaped by cutting and grinding tools. Vor could hear the soft whirring of recirculating fans in the background.

“I don’t know why you came here, Vorian Atreides,” Korla said, making his authentic name sound like a fine joke, “but I assume you’ll tell me who you really are whenever it pleases you to do so. For now, whether you call yourself an emperor, a prince, or a legendary war hero, you’re one of us.”

After dinner, the scavengers led him through a maze of dim, hermetically sealed tunnels beneath the wrecked city. Vor would make himself a simple and basic home here, and would wait for his trap to spring.

He had no idea how long it would be before the Harkonnens took the bait, but he felt confident that they would.

Vor did not think Valya would arrive with a large force. Even though the two of them were sworn foes, as the leaders of their respective noble families they should engage in a one-on-one personal combat between them, to settle everything. Honor and tradition dictated that.

But, to play it safe against someone who hated him so much (and now he felt the same way toward her), all evening long Vor had been looking for places to set explosive charges throughout the tunnel system—tiny, undetectable devices that only he could detonate, if they were needed.

Thirty well-armed Imperial spacefolders arrived at Arrakis, bearing the Emperor on his secret mission. He hoped it would be a great enough show of strength to intimidate Josef Venport.

Roderick Corrino was uneasy about the proposed meeting with Directeur Venport, but the session could not be avoided. And since a fast scout ship had just brought him images verifying the destruction of Kolhar—it was true, the madman had used forbidden atomics!—Roderick knew that the Butlerian transgression required a strong and decisive response. No wonder Manford had seemed so confident, so cocky when he’d departed from Zimia with all his followers. It would only be a matter of time before he flooded back to Salusa Secundus with a large entourage, to make further impossible demands.

Roderick also realized that Josef Venport had never before been so weak, so backed into a corner. This might be the Emperor’s best chance. He understood the wealth of possibilities that Venport Holdings had to offer, yet he wrestled with a silent, important quandary: How could he get control over the vital commercial spacefolders and the esoteric Navigators, and still get rid of Venport?

By careful arrangement, they would hold the secret détente meeting inside an empty, orbiting cargo container that had been verified as neutral to the satisfaction of both sides.

Despite Venport’s difficult situation, Roderick doubted if his own Imperial military forces could defeat these remnants of the VenHold Spacing Fleet in battle, if shooting started. He feared a ploy from the Directeur, some deception meant to lure Imperial defenses away from Salusa Secundus. Maybe Venport intended to slip in and conquer the capital world once and for all, as he had tried to do before.

Yes, his Truthsayer had verified what Venport’s wife claimed … but Cioba was one of the Sisters too, and Roderick could not be certain what tricks of artful deception she might know, or exactly where her loyalties lay. Or Fielle’s, for that matter.

On the other hand, Kolhar was indeed destroyed. Atomics! There could be no denying it. Manford Torondo was indeed a worse threat to civilization than Venport.

It was a risky balancing act for the Emperor. With his defenses stretched paper thin, Roderick felt very exposed, yet he did not dare permit Josef Venport to see any sign of weakness.

He took as many warships to the meeting as he dared, leaving as substantial a guardian force in fixed orbit above Salusa as possible. Admiral Harte’s fleet of slow-moving warships had already departed for Lampadas, where they would await their opportunity, and during that journey they were entirely out of reach of communications. They could not be recalled to reinforce defenses over the Imperial capital; the moment they activated their FTL engines and surged into space, they were beyond the point of no return. Unfortunately, Harte was expecting most of the Butlerian fleet to have been wiped out at Kolhar—but now Roderick knew that Manford’s ships had emerged from the atomic attack mostly unscathed. When the Butlerian warships returned to Lampadas, they would presumably be as powerful as ever. Harte would not be ready for that.

Now it was more imperative than ever that the Butlerian fanatics be contained, or destroyed—before they could unleash another atomic attack, perhaps against Salusa next time. But to ally himself with a man like Venport …

In deciding to partner with either Torondo or Venport, the Emperor was faced with a Hobson’s choice. Both alternatives were very bad, and presented their own large risks.

Roderick’s nostrils flared as he remembered how Venport had stood smiling before the new Emperor’s throne after the coronation, saying he was ready to get down to business, knowing all the while that he was responsible for Salvador’s death. Then, once the treachery was revealed, Venport fled like a cowardly worm, whisked away by Norma Cenva.…

Now when Roderick entered the improvised meeting chamber in the orbiting cargo hauler, accompanied by his guards and Truthsayer, the Navigator woman’s tank was already in the room. He knew that Norma’s priorities were far beyond his understanding. Despite the distraction of the large tank, Roderick focused his entire attention on Josef Venport. His enemy.

The reviled Directeur had already seated himself at the negotiating table, his cinnamon-brown hair perfectly combed, his thick mustache trimmed, his eyes narrowed and intense. “Thank you for joining me, Emperor Roderick Corrino.”

Roderick stood in front of the table, not yet deigning to sit down. “At least you acknowledge my rightful title this time.”

“I acknowledged it when I went to swear loyalty to you at your coronation, Sire. I meant it then, and I mean it now—provided we can come to a reasonable agreement.”

VenHold security troops were lined up at the back of the room, while an equal number of tense Imperial guards waited nearby, weapons at the ready, but Roderick doubted there would be any violence during this discussion. That was not Josef Venport’s way. He preferred to do things behind peoples’ backs.

Roderick took a seat across from him while the Truthsayer remained standing at his side. She frowned, as if trying to assess whether or not Venport was lying. The Emperor said, “I remind you that we still have your wife in the Imperial Palace as insurance, should you attempt any treachery.”

Cioba had agreed to the arrangement, understanding the wisdom of it, though she would rather have been at her husband’s side. The Emperor had made it clear those terms were not negotiable.

The Directeur placed his elbows on the table. “Surely you can see that your real enemy, our shared enemy, is Manford Torondo and his bloodthirsty mobs. They bullied, twisted, and manipulated your brother. They rampaged through the streets of Zimia, burning and looting. They killed your daughter. They overthrew the Mentat School on Lampadas and murdered or kidnapped your sister. And now they’ve destroyed my planet, using forbidden atomics.” Venport leaned over the table. “How much more convincing do you need, Sire? You know full well they will turn against you next, if you don’t do exactly as they say.”