Navigators of Dune

39

After the rest of the VenHold fleet vanished inexplicably, Draigo’s ship had remained in orbit just long enough to retrieve the cymek walkers that launched from their siege positions around Zimia. Retreating! But he had gotten the walkers away before they could be destroyed.

Draigo did not know what was happening, only that Norma Cenva had issued urgent instructions, just before the Directeur’s battleships flew off in the middle of the space battle — leaving his ship alone and vulnerable.

When all thirty-one cymeks had returned to the carrier’s hold, still intact, Draigo fought his way out of Salusan orbit as the unruly Butlerians swooped in, crowing over communications lines about their unexpected victory. In the aftermath, stunned Imperial ships took potshots at Draigo’s ship even after the main invading fleet had gone.

His shields endured a tremendous pounding as he fought to escape, and his hull suffered some damage, but nothing structural, and the Holtzman engines remained intact. He directed his Navigator to fold space and escape.

But the Mentat remained baffled by what had happened.

When the Navigator-cymek brains were secure once more in their proper holding racks, the preservation canisters containing Ptolemy and Noffe trundled forward on carrier carts to the command bridge. They demanded answers, confused as to how their imminent victory had suddenly collapsed. Why?

Draigo was just as perplexed as the cymek scientists were. Even though he ran numerous Mentat projections, he could find no conclusions that logically fit the facts. Why would Directeur Venport have withdrawn all his ships without explanation, on the verge of a huge victory? A message from Norma Cenva instructed Draigo’s lone ship to return the Navigator-brain cymeks to the safety of Denali. But why?

Draigo knew he would have to wait until he reconnected with Directeur Venport — where? On Kolhar? Impatient, he stepped up to face his ship’s Navigator. “I need to be debriefed by Directeur Venport as soon as possible. Where has he gone?”

The Navigator would not look at him. “Directeur Venport and his ships went to Arrakis to protect the spice stockpile. Norma Cenva informed me that you would be of greater use on Denali, where you will continue to prepare against our enemies.”

Draigo digested the information, which told him almost nothing. Beside him, the preservation tanks of Noffe and Ptolemy shimmered as electrafluid nutrients processed their agitated thoughts. “Denali has many weapons in prototype stage,” said Noffe. “But our main thrust has been to complete the rest of our new cymeks for the conquest of Lampadas. The destruction of the Butlerians is our goal!”

Ptolemy pondered longer. “At first I questioned Directeur Venport’s decision to turn our forces against the Emperor instead of the Butlerians, and yet we just saw that Roderick Corrino — supposedly a rational man — has entered into a dangerous alliance with Manford Torondo. Therefore, our work at Denali is more urgent than ever. We must have our full force of cymeks ready to attack Lampadas, and soon.”

ONCE BACK INSIDE the laboratory domes, Draigo urged the scientific teams to work with renewed determination. While he waited for some kind of explanation from Directeur Venport, the Mentat assessed the various projects in progress, rating each concept’s probability of success, as well as the destructive potential and how close each one was to completion.

Though Administrator Noffe’s human body had been damaged in a horrific explosion, he still used his detail-oriented mind to monitor the projects. From his brain canister, Noffe presented feedback, while the robot Erasmus offered several thinking-machine weapons, but so far those designs were inferior to the other work the Denali scientists had produced. For the time being Erasmus seemed obsessed with his growing biological body. He promised more help, though.

Since the large cymek project showed the clearest probability of success against the barbarian enemy, most of the Denali workers devoted their time to that effort. The force of more than one hundred battle machines had to be ready.

Ptolemy was consumed with the idea of turning them loose on Manford Torondo. Draigo knew that back on Zenith, Ptolemy and Dr. Elchan had been naïve humanitarians, entirely unprepared when they inadvertently provoked the fanatics. Now Ptolemy was obsessed with destroying him. Ironically, Manford Torondo had created his own nemesis by inflicting such misery … and every researcher here on Denali had a tale similar to poor Ptolemy’s. All these brilliant men and women were dedicated to the cause of destroying the Butlerians.

Unlike the Tlulaxa scientist Noffe, who had no choice but to abandon his ruined body, Ptolemy had voluntarily given up his physical form to become a cymek. For no reason other than that he wanted to be stronger, he had ordered Tlulaxa surgeons to convert him into a powerful weapon to be unleashed against the enemy.

Ptolemy’s ruthless determination had pushed him to the edge of madness, which could have been a cause for concern, but Draigo wondered if madness, at least a form of it, might be the only effective way to stand against the insanity of Butlerian fervor.…

The day after they returned from Salusa Secundus, he went to inspect Ptolemy’s work in the frantic push to complete the cymek army. Though Ptolemy’s preservation canister could be installed in any number of walkers, he chose a smaller articulated mobile form with multiple limbs and attachments.

This mechanical body now worked inside one of the sealed hangars, tinkering with another cymek framework. Beside Ptolemy’s artificial body, a team of human engineers also worked to strengthen the war-machine’s components, installing a high-powered cannon.

Ptolemy swiveled his sensors to face Draigo. “This one is nearly complete. Later today, I’ll present a detailed manifest of the walker forms, the weapons each one possesses, and which Navigator brains have trained on that unit. We will soon have our full force, Mentat.”

“When will we be ready to launch the attack?” Draigo asked. “The Directeur will want to know. Especially after the rout at Salusa.”

Ptolemy didn’t hesitate. “We can go now with what we have, or tomorrow, or next week — whenever the Directeur unleashes us. And I hope it is soon.”

“Soon enough. When we hear from him again.”

With a whir of attached tools, Ptolemy’s walker finished assembling a clawlike attachment and scuttled over to the Mentat. “With the data from our test mission to Lampadas, I have developed thorough plans for a complete cymek assault. I would like to submit my outline to Directeur Venport. I have the perfect plan.”

“Is any plan really perfect?” As a Mentat, Draigo could always find ways for details to go awry.

“This one is.” Ptolemy’s simulated voice invited no argument. “With more than one hundred armed cymek walkers guided by Navigator brains, we will be invincible against the primitive barbarian defenses. We shall overthrow Manford Torondo and obliterate his mindless mobs. It must be done.”

Draigo pondered. The arrival of the Butlerian warships at Salusa had altered the balance of that battle. At least that was the perception, although his Mentat projections suggested that Directeur Venport could still have won. But the Navigators had whisked all the VenHold ships away. He still didn’t know why.

“I believe we will succeed,” Draigo said. “But have you contemplated your next step after victory? What will happen after you get your revenge against Manford Torondo?”

The mechanical form remained motionless, while the electrafluid in the brain canister throbbed to show Ptolemy’s furious thoughts. “After that, I don’t care.”