Navigators of Dune

2

Kolhar was a fortress, but Josef Venport did not let himself feel complacent as he waited for the Emperor to make his move. He knew that the brunt of Imperial military forces would be poised to annihilate him the moment they saw a chance.

To increase his planetary security, he’d had to withdraw numerous well-armed ships from the VenHold Spacing Fleet and station them in Kolhar orbit, pulling them from lucrative commercial routes. Josef also intensified the planetary shields and increased the number of picket ships and scouts around the star system.

Now that his defenses were in place, he might find a way out of this mess. If only he and Emperor Roderick could just sit down and negotiate like rational men!

Josef had never wanted any part of this debacle. While it had been necessary to remove that buffoon Salvador and place his more competent brother on the throne, he had never thought his role in the assassination would be discovered. Rather, Josef planned to be partners with the new Emperor, to their mutual benefit. The Imperium was poised to thrive — if Roderick would just see reason.

This was a time of existential crisis for human civilization, a historical moment requiring hard decisions: Humanity was still recovering from the long nightmare of enslavement to the thinking machines, followed by the chaos and violence that spawned the reactionary Butlerian movement, rabid fanatics who wanted to purge all vestiges of “evil” technology. By installing a competent man on the throne, Josef had meant to help the human race; instead, he had precipitated an unforeseen disaster.

Now the Emperor would stop at nothing to crush Venport Holdings, to arrest Josef and quite probably execute him. Why couldn’t Roderick Corrino see how much damage his dogged insistence on revenge would cause? VenHold should just be levied a substantial blood fine — which Josef would pay in spice or money, whichever the Emperor preferred — after which interplanetary commerce and government could get back to normal. He stroked his thick reddish mustache, pondering deeply. There had to be a way out of this!

Sick of the interminable waiting, he left his multitower skyscraper headquarters and stepped out under the overcast sky. He needed to feel the cool air on his skin and see the reassuring activity around him. He liked to remind himself that he was still one of the most powerful men in the Imperium.

His wife, Cioba, met him just outside the headquarters tower. She was a tall, elegant brunette whose bloodline came from the telepathically powerful Sorceresses of Rossak. Her long hair fell to her waist; her regal bearing and calm demeanor came from years of Sisterhood training.

Silent but supportive, Cioba walked with him across a paved landing field that should have been crowded with commercial ships and spice haulers. Now, though, the spaceport resembled a military operations field. Rumbling tankers moved back and forth, fueling defensive ships and shuttlecraft. Scout patrols launched into orbit. When Josef sucked in a deep breath, the air held the sharp tang of exhaust fumes and the brisk brittleness of winter.

Cioba paused, as if she had run calculations in her mind. “Kolhar is as impregnable as we can make it, my husband. While we dare not lower our guard, we should not be paralyzed by needless fear. We are strong and secure.”

Josef had told himself the same thing many times, but he refused to relax. “Overconfidence is a greater weakness than fear and worry. We need to stay vigilant until we ride out this crisis.”

“I know we will. We have advanced weapons and defenses that the rest of the Imperium can’t even imagine.” Her lips quirked in a smile. “Defenses that are sure to give nightmares to Manford Torondo and his Butlerians.”

Josef responded with a smile of his own. Together, they watched three mechanical figures patrolling the spaceport perimeter — spiderlike cymek walkers taller than many of the buildings, fresh deliveries from his secret weapons laboratory on Denali.

Cymeks had once been the scourge of humanity — disembodied human brains mounted inside armored machine bodies. The original cymeks had been destroyed at the end of Serena Butler’s jihad, but Josef’s brilliant scientists had redesigned and re-created them. Rather than being guided by fallible, power-hungry minds, these new cymeks were controlled by the evolved brains of Navigator candidates. Now the mechanical guardians patrolled the area around the Kolhar headquarters, their pistons pumping and sensors alert for any threat.

When Josef commandeered a groundcar, Cioba did not need to ask where they were going. Visiting the tanks of evolving Navigator candidates had become a daily ritual for him, especially as tensions increased.

As he drove, Josef shook his head in dismay. “Instead of being at each other’s throats, Roderick and I should be working together to fight the real enemy! The Butlerian fanatics pose as great a threat to civilization as the thinking machines did. And the half-Manford has warships of his own.”

Cioba lifted her chin. “Those antique ships aren’t enough to defeat you, Josef. One hundred forty old spacefolders dating back to the Army of the Jihad. Think of your ships, of your monopoly on Navigators, and your intensely loyal employees. More than half the planets in the Imperium depend on VenHold for commerce, and they still trade with you, even though the Emperor branded you an outlaw. What does that say?” She turned her classically beautiful face toward him, raised her eyebrows. “You have more ships, more power, more influence than anyone, even the Corrinos. If people were forced to decide, would they choose some figure on a throne on far-off Salusa Secundus, or would they rather have regular shipments of food and spice?”

He knew she was right. Josef guided the groundcar over a rise and then down into a broad, bowl-shaped valley filled with hundreds of tanks, each containing one of his Navigator candidates. Cioba leaned over and kissed his cheek as he halted the vehicle amid the sealed tanks.

They walked among the thick-walled chambers full of concentrated spice gas. Through the murky plaz windowports and swirling fumes inside, Josef could see mutated figures undergoing constant mental convolutions to expand their minds. No unmodified brain could grasp foldspace calculations and the prescience necessary to guide a ship through the void, but the spice-enriched transformation made it possible.

Josef marveled at these freakish but oddly impressive Navigators. Even if the Emperor’s ships came for Kolhar, his military spacefolders would be clumsy and blind because they had no Navigators. While antique FTL ships were relatively safe in their passage through space, they were unconscionably sluggish, taking weeks or months to travel between star systems. VenHold ships, on the other hand, were fast and safe.

He and Cioba paused before a large central tank on a marble platform, like a shrine. Josef was pleased to see that Norma Cenva, his great-grandmother, was present in the chamber, surrounded by her personal spice-dreams and the infinite possibilities that stretched far into the universe.

More than a century ago, Norma had become the first Navigator. Although she was more than a mere human, she still maintained contact with Josef, and remained aware of Imperial politics for her own purposes.

“The human race is at stake, and I feel a tremendous obligation,” Josef said to Cioba, although he suspected that Norma would be eavesdropping. “I am the one with the rational thinking and the wherewithal to save us. I must stay alive, and I must win. Roderick will not break through our defenses, and with all my commercial ties across the Imperium, I can pull strings and force decisions that are beyond his capabilities.”

Though Norma helped to make Venport Holdings strong, Josef knew that her driving goal was to promote the creation of more Navigators. Unlike her protégés, Norma had the ability to fold space simply with her mind and travel at will, while all other Navigators needed to use great ships powered by Holtzman engines to travel. Sometimes her enclosed tank would vanish for days on obscure business of her own, but for now she remained here, where she meditated and observed.

Needing to know answers, Josef stepped up to the tank and asked without further preamble, “What do you think, Grandmother? If I am more powerful than Emperor Roderick, should I hide here and build my defenses, or should I think in grander terms?”

Norma spoke in a warbling voice through the tank’s speakerpatch. “You have the power and ability to seize the throne — if that is what you wish.”

He was surprised to hear her say this. Some men fantasized about becoming great rulers, but Josef had always considered himself a businessman, a consummate commercial leader, but not one who was interested in political aggrandizement.

“You know that isn’t what I wish. I want Roderick to be the Emperor — a sensible one. I placed him on that throne, damn it. I want him to be strong and wise … and to ask for my counsel! I have my own business empire. My planetary banks are brimming with money that depositors entrusted to me. I have tremendous spice operations on Arrakis, even though the fool Salvador tried to take them away. For me, politics is a tool to accomplish my business interests, nothing more.”

He let out a sigh. “But I’ve been backed into a corner. We’re at a turning point of civilization, and if Emperor Roderick won’t do what is required of him, then am I the one to replace him?” He pondered, but still saw no clear answer. “I would much rather go back to how it was a year ago, when I could focus my energies on annihilating Manford’s barbarians.”

“And our spice operations — for my Navigators,” Norma said. “We need to go to Arrakis, rather than stay here. You and I should go.”

“We’ll do it soon, Grandmother.” He had already planned a long-delayed inspection trip, but first he needed to attend to a last few details here.

“Soon,” Norma insisted, “I will take us there.”

Frustration welled up in him. While the Emperor wasted time and resources trying to retaliate against him, the fanatical Butlerians were running rampant, erasing the progress that Josef had achieved at such a dear cost.

Well, Josef had already taken action. Even as he built his defenses here on Kolhar, he had dispatched an important commando force to Lampadas, the headquarters of the Butlerian movement. Maybe after his invincible cymek forces slaughtered that vile little cripple, then Josef could be truly satisfied.

“You have already made your decision,” Norma said in her distorted voice.

“I came here to seek your advice, Grandmother.”

“You have already made your decision,” Norma repeated, and she would not answer further.