Mentats of Dune

Chapter 37 (Success is a matter of definitions)

Over the years, the scientists on Denali had sent Josef Venport numerous exuberant proposals, many of which had seemed absurd and unobtainable. New shield generators, thoughtrode interfaces, mob stunners, atomic pulse-flashes, even mechanical “cricket” saboteurs.

Not wanting to place limitations on his remote think tank, he told Administrator Noffe to encourage imagination in all its forms, so long as it led to developments that could inflict harm on the Butlerians.

But this was more than he had ever hoped for.

Josef, Draigo, and Ptolemy sat under the bright desert sun watching seven mechanical walkers guided by Navigator brains. He was already impressed with what Ptolemy had produced. The fearsome machines moved with remarkable swiftness and ease. Josef smiled: Results such as this justified the fortune he had poured into the Denali research facility.

Now he had his own Titans.

His great-grandmother had been tortured by one of the ancient Titans, and that ordeal had transformed Norma Cenva into more than a human being. Her husband, Aurelius Venport, had devoted his life to fighting the cymeks. How ironic that Josef Venport was responsible for creating a new group of Titans that were even more powerful than their predecessors.

Ptolemy touched his earadio. “Still no sign of a worm.”

“Maybe the creatures are afraid,” Josef said.

“I doubt sandworms know fear, Directeur,” Draigo said. “From the vibrations, the creatures would have no way of knowing these cymeks were different from a spice factory. And we were anticipating that the Holtzman field from the shields would madden at least one worm.”

“I was being facetious, Mentat.”

At last, a ripple rolled along under the sand, casting it up like the crest of a wave. The great worm plowed through a succession of dunes as if they were no thicker than air, moving with the speed of a projectile fired from a weapon.

Josef rose out of his observation chair. “What a monster!” Beside him, Draigo’s dark eyes widened as he drank in details. Ptolemy looked both awed and terrified.

It seemed that the theories about the effect of shields on the creatures might prove correct after all.

The enraged sandworm exploded upward. As the huge maw came out of the sand, dust sheeted off its curved segments.

Inside their preservation canisters, the proto-Navigator brains did not panic. Having researched the behavior of sandworms, they positioned the walker bodies in a precise attack configuration, as if this were a military drill. Three of the cymeks switched off their shields and bounded away like jumping spiders.

The worm slammed down like a battering ram, but the agile cymeks sprang in opposite directions, their movements carefully coordinated, as if the brains were telepathically linked. Even from the distant outcropping Josef could feel the tremors as the monster dove under the sand.

Scuttling to the dune tops for a better strategic position, the seven cymeks launched artillery, hammering the sandworm’s segmented body with explosion after explosion. So much dust, sand, and smoke boiled into the air that Josef could barely see.

The worm rose up again, thrashing about like an unchecked high-pressure hose. It slammed into one of the cymeks and knocked the machine body into the air, then scooped downward to swallow one of the other cymeks, Hok Evander, who was still protected by a shimmering shield.

In his observation chair, Ptolemy let out a groan as the struggling cymek vanished down the creature’s gullet. Josef was surprised at his lack of objectivity. “This is a test, Dr. Ptolemy. One must expect losses.”

The remaining five Titans redoubled their attack, shooting flames, lasbeams, and exploding shells. Although several of the worm’s armored segments looked ragged and damaged, the attack only enraged the beast. It lifted itself up and then crashed down on top of two more cymeks, smashing them into the sand. The behemoth was so massive that even the walkers’ enhanced armor could not protect them.

The last three Titans spread out equidistant from the worm and continued to attack. The creature let out a rumbling groan like exhaust from a starship engine.

Then, oddly, its serpentine form bulged and swelled, as if repeated detonations were occurring from its interior. A dark stain appeared on the ring segments, then smoke spurted out from a widening wound. Sizzling chemicals dripped down its tough hide.

From within the worm’s digestive tract, the swallowed Titan, still shielded, unleashed explosives and deadly acid to cut its way out. The escaping cymek left timed projectiles behind, which exploded as soon as the machine walker scrambled free.

Josef chuckled, unable to tear his gaze away. Beside him, Ptolemy looked as if he might be ill at seeing so much devastation.

Mortally wounded, the worm crashed onto the sands, leaking fluids from myriad injuries, its gullet torn open. Seeing the vulnerable spot, the surviving cymeks continued to attack until the sandworm shuddered and collapsed across the flattened dunes.

Grinning, Josef turned to Ptolemy. “Most impressive!”

The scientist groaned. “But I lost three of my Titans — almost half of my finest cymeks — to destroy one worm! They were my experimental subjects, and I spent so much time and care—” Agitated, he began coughing so hard that he nearly fell out of the observation chair. “Two of them, Hok and Adem, rescued me on Denali when my life support failed.”

“Don’t worry, they performed well — beyond my expectations.” Josef clapped him on the shoulder. “More important than that, you proved that a sandworm can be killed! We have the means to do it.”

Ptolemy slumped in his chair, pale and uncertain, but found his resolve. “Based on this demonstration, Directeur, I shall make improvements to the walker bodies to ensure that the others are more protected.” The churned sand looked as if it had been the site of an aerial bombardment. “The Navigator brains for the next batch of Titans will have better data for increased performance.” He looked deeply sad.

Suddenly, with an eruption that flung gouts of sand in all directions, a second sandworm lurched out of the dunes.

The creatures were suspected to be territorial, but the Mentat had already suggested that this might be a contested zone. Surprised by the new monster, the Titans could not react in time. The second worm smashed one cymek in its first blow, swept two other walker bodies away, and swallowed the fourth.

Ptolemy fell to his knees from the chair in deep despair. “I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it.” All lost. Xinshop, Yabido, all seven of his elite force. Tears streamed down his dusty cheeks.

The first sandworm, the dying one, continued to quiver and twitch on the sand. The second eyelessly regarded its rival, uninterested in the ruined cymeks or the distant VenHold observers. For long moments, the creature loomed over the severely damaged body of the dead worm, and then glided out onto the open dunes from which the first worm had come, claiming the territory for itself.

On the rock outcropping, VenHold workers hurried out of the landed spacecraft, folded up the observation chairs, and prepared to depart.

Ptolemy continued to stare at the battleground. “They’re all gone. Every one of our finest test subjects. I … I still have much work to do.”

But Josef felt exhilarated. “Don’t be downcast — that was tremendous. And you have plenty more proto-Navigator brains to work with. Ah, just imagine what those cymeks could do against the Half-Manford. We’ll need more of your creations, many more, and I authorize you to build them.”

He urged the research scientist back into the shuttle. “You’re going to help me defeat our enemies, Dr. Ptolemy. Your cymeks will prove invaluable, both here on Arrakis and in battles against the barbarians.” He pondered for a moment longer. “And, if it should ever come to this, they will fight on our side in a war to take control of the entire Imperium.”