Mentats of Dune

Chapter 65 (An Emperor’s grasp can encompass a million worlds)

When the Emperor arrived at Arrakis to assert Imperial control over spice operations, Josef Venport intended to be there waiting for him. Salvador Corrino was so naïve!

Departing from Kolhar on one of his fast spacefolders, Josef took the desert man Taref, who had served him well, despite being duped by the Half-Manford’s supposed death. The Freeman saboteur had been of little use, though, since finding his female friend dead in the snow; all he could talk about was returning to Arrakis. Josef couldn’t understand the workings of the desert man’s mind.

Initially he’d been convinced that once the primitive nomads saw other planets and tasted as much water as they could drink, they would never want to go back to their original poverty. How could they not be grateful? But for some incomprehensible reason, the squalid desert life beckoned Taref again.

Too often Josef was disappointed by irrational human beings, the bad decisions they made, their self-destructive behavior. He mourned for the species.

Showing considerable sympathy, he had even offered the young man a furlough on Caladan to recover and get his wits together, since the desert people seemed to have an obsession with that ocean world. Taref had insisted that he wanted to return home — though he couldn’t explain what he expected to find there. He had made it clear he had no place in his old sietch. Nevertheless, Josef granted the request, knowing he would gain nothing by arguing.

When they reached Arrakis City, however, Josef delayed releasing the young man from his service. “I have one final task for you, something only you can do. I will pay you well.”

Taref looked away. His melange-blue eyes were eerie and hard to read. “I don’t require any additional payment, Directeur. You have returned me to Arrakis, as I requested. Now, I wish to be on my own.”

Josef frowned, scratching his mustache. “But where will you go? What will you do here?”

“I do not know … but at least I am back on Arrakis. The path of my life has vanished like footprints in the sand. I cannot entirely retrace my way.”

Josef had little patience for Zensunni mysticism, nor for gloom and malaise. “But I still require your services. Do one last thing for me — and then I will send all of your friends back here, if that’s what they want.”

“Why would you do that?”

“If they don’t want to continue to do their jobs, then your companions are no good to me anyway. I’ll send them back here, provided they go to the deep desert and never reveal what they’ve done for me.”

Taref considered for a long moment. “I am confident they will want that. But I am surprised you would release us so easily.”

Josef narrowed his eyes, as if the young man were questioning his sense of honor and gratitude. “I don’t put loyal, competent workers to death, young man. Unlike some leaders, I believe in human nature. I treated all of you fairly, and I’ve always kept my word. In return, I expect continued honor from you.”

“Honor, yes. The honor of saboteurs.” Taref shook his head, then squared his shoulders again. “Very well. But when I finish this task, I will be gone, with no further obligation to you, to my people, or to anyone else. What do you require of me?”

“The Emperor is taking a long, slow passage with old FTL engines. As soon as he arrives, I need you to find a way aboard his barge with the regular spaceport maintenance and refueling crew.” Then, to Taref’s astonishment, he explained the mission.

THE IMPERIAL BARGE took its time getting to Arrakis, on a leisurely, luxurious voyage the way the old League of Nobles members used to travel.

Meanwhile, Josef spent three days in Arrakis City receiving reports from Combined Mercantiles, inspecting spice-harvesting records and assessing the numerous losses, including expensive machinery as well as experienced crews who were killed in Coriolis storms and sandworm attacks. Salvador Corrino had no idea how dangerous a business it was.

The spice workers were proficient in mounting a rapid response every time a worm was spotted. The moment one of the monsters was identified in the distance, rescue aircraft would soar in, evacuate the crews, and whisk away the spice cargo in containers designed to be detachable. In dire circumstances, the armored spice containers could be jettisoned far enough away that they might be retrieved. Draigo Roget had dedicated an entire arm of VenHold manufacturing to producing replacement equipment faster than Arrakis could destroy it.

Through its many separate holdings, the company’s investments were immense, as were the profits, which increased every year. For generations, the Venports had cultivated and improved the melange industry, inventing techniques and equipment, driving out poachers, securing and solidifying their claims.

And Salvador Corrino thought he could simply step in and seize it all with a personal appearance and the stroke of a pen? What a fool!

The Imperial Barge was a flying palace, complete with a throne room, audience chamber, functionaries, sycophants, and attendants, along with a ten-member military crew. According to his intelligence from the Imperial Court, the barge had fallback Holtzman engines, but relied on the slower drive that had been used before the discovery of foldspace travel.

Normally, the Emperor would have traveled gratis aboard a VenHold spacefolder, so by using his own transportation, he was snubbing Josef. Despite the intentional snub, the Imperial Barge would have to be serviced and refueled by an Arrakis City maintenance crew — which would provide all the opportunity Taref needed.

Through high-resolution surveillance satellites, Josef watched the gaudy Imperial Barge enter orbit. One of the Emperor’s ministers sent a message to the Combined Mercantiles headquarters even before Salvador delivered his pompous declaration of arrival and formal intent, which followed minutes later.

Reading the transmitted decree, Josef shook his head at its verbosity and folly. Such a waste of his valuable time. He knew the Half-Manford was behind this absurd action, but the Emperor should know better — as should Roderick Corrino. Had everyone lost their sense of reason?

Before Salvador could make too much of a spectacle of himself — he seemed to expect the hard-bitten desert workers to bow down and weep with joy in his presence — Josef transmitted a welcome on a direct-line transmission.

“Emperor Corrino, we are honored that you would grace this humble world with your visit. Our desert operations are complex and difficult, as you must have been briefed. VenHold attorneys are already meeting with Imperial representatives on Kolhar, and I hope you are aware there will be a lengthy transition period as we turn over administration to Imperial control. In the meantime, please allow me to welcome you in person.”

On the screen, Salvador shook his head. “I’d rather not come down to that dirty and insecure place. Manford Torondo was nearly killed in Arrakis City when he visited.”

Josef flinched. “Mere rumors, Sire — but your concern is merited. Arrakis is a harsh world with rough people. Should I join you aboard your Imperial Barge instead, to discuss matters?”

The Emperor looked relieved. “Yes, that would be preferable to getting dirty.”

Josef took his own shuttle from the Arrakis City spaceport up to the barge, bringing a routine team of company maintenance workers. Dressed as any other VenHold employee, with appropriate papers and credentials, Taref melted into the work crew.

In his climate-controlled Imperial chamber, Salvador was in a good mood to receive a presumably cooperative Directeur Venport. Josef tried to put the conversation on the correct track from the start. “Your offer of compensation is fair, perhaps even overly generous, Sire. I understand the power of the throne, so magnanimity is always welcome. You rule the Imperium, and my company is a valuable resource. I look forward to a much closer alliance with you.” He bowed. “My Mentat lawyers inform me that it would have been within your powers under the rules of eminent domain to simply seize the operations without compensation. I appreciate your willingness to work with me for a mutually acceptable solution.”

With a sniff, Salvador said, “Yes, I could have used an iron fist, as I did with House Péle, but VenHold administers many resources for the Imperium, and you have demonstrated your ability to manage your company quite well. I want us to be on friendly terms. The Imperium and the Imperial Armed Forces depend on your ships for many things.”

Josef struggled to suppress his anger. “As Emperor, you have a very difficult role, Sire. I understand the narrow path you must tread, balancing the sensible needs of businessmen like myself against the wild and extreme demands of the Butlerians. I’m confident our representatives can negotiate mutually acceptable terms on the Arrakis contract and subsequent House Corrino control. We can all profit from this situation.”

Salvador’s eyes were sparkling. “I’m relieved you’ve decided to be reasonable, Directeur. I only wish Manford were so tractable.”

Some of the Imperial functionaries chuckled, but their laughter had a nervous edge.

In a dining chamber that seemed too ornate to be inside a spaceworthy ship, the Emperor served a fine banquet while they orbited Arrakis. The meal included braised game hens, chocolate-mist desserts, expensive wines, Salusan fruit juices, and artesian ice water. On Arrakis, this water-extravagant dinner — the drinks alone — would have cost more than a spice crew supervisor’s annual salary, but Josef didn’t comment on this. Salvador wouldn’t care, anyway.

“The important first step, Sire, is for you to witness the melange operations with your own eyes. I’ve made arrangements for you and your entourage to be taken under utmost security out to the deep desert, where you will tour one of our biggest spice-mining operations. The factory moves from day to day as spotters find new concentrations of melange. That way, you’ll see for yourself how the spice is gathered, and why the operational expense is so high.”

“That sounds interesting and informative.” The Emperor nodded, and then his functionaries nodded as well.

“Because bandits often prey upon our operations, it’s best if we don’t announce the location or timing of this expedition.”

“Is it dangerous?” A hint of alarm crept into Salvador’s voice.

Josef smiled. “I’ll be right there with you, and we will be surrounded by my powerful paramilitary force. You’ll be far from the dangers of a confined population center such as Arrakis City. As for the Tanzerouft, where we’ll be, the last incidents of harassment came from unruly Freemen who resented our intrusion into their lands. We have that fully under control now, so it’s nothing to worry about. And you will see more spice than you can possibly imagine, tons and tons of it just lying on the ground!”

Josef had noticed that although his visitors consumed the wines and delicacies with avid abandon, they only took small amounts of melange, treating it as if it were in limited supply.

Salvador visibly relaxed. “We look forward to that, Directeur.” He lounged back in a large chair at the banquet table, not exactly a throne, but more ostentatious than the other seats. “And now, for the second main course!” he called. Servants rushed forward from the galley.

As the ship continued to orbit the arid world, they all dug into the feast.