“But I can’t just leave you here!” Draigo realized his voice was getting too loud, and someone might overhear them.
“I haven’t asked you to leave. There is something I need you to do, something more important than saving my life.”
Draigo focused his thoughts, squared his shoulders. “I’m listening.”
“I’m not the one who needs rescuing. I made another promise a long time ago after the Synchronized Empire fell, when I saved a mind more precious to me than any other. I promised to protect it.”
“Who?” Draigo asked.
“I have no time to be subtle. It is Erasmus. The independent robot still exists, and he is far more important than I am. It was his idea to set up the Mentat School.”
Draigo stared in disbelief, processing the information.
“Directeur Venport would find Erasmus useful,” Gilbertus continued. “And there is also the Emperor’s sister — I gave the Corrinos my word that I would keep her safe. I am certain the Butlerians mean to take her as a hostage, to force the Emperor to agree to even more of their demands. We have improved the school’s defenses, but I can tell you a safe approach. I want you to get inside the walls and find Anna Corrino — she has Erasmus’s memory core. Directeur Venport can protect both of them. There is hope for them, but not for me.”
Gilbertus described the safe path into the school complex, the rearranged stepping-stones in the water, and an underwater access gate that he could reach after dark, without needing special equipment.
Then they heard a shout from outside the tent, a woman’s deep voice. Anari Idaho. “Raise the alarm! Someone killed the guards! Quick — to the prisoner!”
Gilbertus’s eyes widened in alarm. “You need to get away, or all is lost. Do as I told you. Help me to keep my promises.”
Draigo hesitated for an instant. “All right, Headmaster.” He took out his knife, slashed the back fabric of the tent, and dove through the opening. He leaped over the body of the third guard and raced into the darkness, melting away in the swamp as Butlerians surged toward the prisoner’s tent.
Glancing back, he saw Anari Idaho charging through the camp like a juggernaut, her sword raised as she hunted for him. Draigo wished he’d had more of a chance to say goodbye to the Headmaster, but with his organized Mentat mind, he would always be able to recall every detail of Gilbertus’s face with perfect clarity.
Chapter 74 (There are far more pleasant places for an Emperor)
There are far more pleasant places for an Emperor to visit than Arrakis, but it is important for the sake of appearances that I go there in person. I reign over my subjects on squalid worlds as well as those on magnificent ones.
— EMPEROR SALVADOR CORRINO, Imperial Journals
The spice crew chief received word from the spotter aircraft. “Wormsign, chief! It’s close — and a big one.”
The Imperial entourage responded with a titter of nervous excitement. Salvador hurried to the dust-smeared observation windows on the control deck. “Good. I’ve been wanting to see one.”
The crew chief kept his attention back on the communication system. “Plot its course. How long do we have?” The spotter transmitted coordinates, and the location of the behemoth appeared on a grid-map of the surrounding dunes. “Gods below, it’s close! Why the hell didn’t you spot it sooner?”
“It must have been running deep, Chief,” the spotter replied.
“You should hire better spotters,” Salvador remarked.
Crew Chief Okarr’s drawn expression and gray complexion alarmed the Emperor. “This one is extremely close, Sire. Too close!”
Wondering what action was necessary, Salvador snapped a signal to his Imperial troops. “Be on high alert. We may need your protection.”
The factory crew chief blinked at him in disbelief. “Sire, your guards can’t do anything against a giant sandworm.”
Directeur Venport’s voice came over the comm speakers, sounding scratchy and distant, even though Salvador thought he had merely gone to an office in another part of the spice factory. “Chief Okarr, prepare to jettison the spice — we don’t have much time.” The Emperor was not impressed with the electrical systems aboard this big mobile factory. Static storms and dust must be playing havoc with the circuitry.
“Yes, Directeur. I summoned the carryalls, and my crew is ready to evacuate. I’m trying to reach the rescue ships right now — they should be inbound momentarily.” His hands a blur across the controls, the chief prepped the spice container and launched it.
The loud explosive report startled Salvador. “What was that? Are we under attack?”
“That was planned, Sire.” Chief Okarr was flushed and tense, but he still answered the Emperor’s questions. “All the spice gathered during our operations is packed into an armored cargo container, which I just jettisoned. In tight situations like this, we launch it with a locator beacon far from the spice factory. With the worm distracted by the greater vibrations from our operations, we can usually retrieve the container later.”
“Interesting,” Salvador said, but his nervous entourage did not seem interested at all.
The captain of the Imperial Guard picked up on the tension in the control room. “Sire, we should return to the Imperial shuttle. It’s time to get to safety.”
Salvador nodded. “Yes, let’s leave these good people to their work. Spice mining is a complicated business, as we’ve seen firsthand. Good job, all of you.”
The guard captain touched his earadio, listened, and recoiled. “Sire, there’s been an explosion on the shuttle! I think it’s sabotage.”
The entourage gasped, looking to Salvador for guidance. He tried to be strong, for their sakes. Mustering a calm voice, he said, “We were warned of the dangers on Arrakis, but we’ll be all right. Captain, arrange for us to get away.”
“Sire! The shuttle can’t fly! The engines are ruined.”
“Ruined? You mean they can’t be repaired?”
“Ruined, Sire! We’re trapped here.”
“Will we still be able to see the worm?” asked one of the baliset players, as if she were more interested in inspiration for a new song than her own safety.
“I’m sure we’ll see the worm from the evacuation ships. Crew Chief, where do we go to board your rescue vessels?”
The chief was short-tempered, barking orders into the comm system. “We don’t have enough escape ships for a hundred extra people!”
“Carryalls aren’t responding, Chief — I can’t raise them at all,” shouted one of the workers. “They’ve got to be inbound.”
Someone else yelled, “That worm will be here in less than five minutes.”
Venport’s voice crackled over the speakers on the control deck. “Emperor Corrino, my apologies, but urgent business has called me away. I would have preferred to tell you in person.” He sounded flippant. “I’ve decided to reject Imperial seizure of my spice operations. Here on Arrakis, power doesn’t come from a title or bloodline, but from actions, resources, and carefully laid plans.”
Salvador didn’t understand what the man was saying.
Venport continued, “Chief Okarr, the spice cargo has been jettisoned safely away. You and your men have served Combined Mercantiles well and generated a great deal of profit for us. It was your bad luck to be assigned here today, but rest assured that I will compensate your families generously for their losses. And Emperor Corrino … enjoy the rest of your tour.”
The chief roared curses into the voice pickup. Imperial soldiers closed around Salvador to protect him, though he didn’t feel any safer having them near. The factory workers were in a complete panic. Some curled up, muttering prayers, while others fled the control deck, but there was no safe place to go.