Despite his reservations, Roderick did not dispute the concerns Manford Torondo and Dorotea had raised about the overreach of Venport Holdings; he was more worried about the volatile Butlerians, however. Manford was a bully, a loose cannon, and not afraid to use his followers as a threat. Though Roderick wanted to hamstring the reckless mobs, he knew that House Corrino was not strong enough to survive a widespread Butlerian uprising across the Imperium.
The power and influence Directeur Venport wielded were just as great as Manford Torondo’s, but he had not been openly hostile to the throne. Much of the Imperial Armed Forces even depended on VenHold ships for transport. The man had built his own commercial empire, made his own rules, while paying little more than lip service to the Emperor. At least he was reasonable, Roderick thought. The lesser of two evils … unless Venport was provoked too much.
Salvador said, “I will be glad to be done with this. I have grown exceedingly tired of the petty feud between Venport and the Butlerians. I am the Emperor, and by taking over Arrakis I intend to show both of them who rules the Imperium.”
“Directeur Venport won’t see it that way — he’ll know you’re still doing what Manford wants,” Roderick said. “By bowing to Butlerian demands and seizing the spice business, you may well be creating a much more dangerous enemy.”
“Nonsense! Despite Manford’s suggestion, Arrakis was my world to begin with. We are only formalizing what already exists.” He smiled stiffly. “This will be like our triumph on Rossak. We broke the Sisterhood, got rid of the corrupt part of it, and kept the best Sisters here, close to the throne. We’ll do the same with VenHold.”
Esther-Cano stood quietly next to the two men. “Sire, our orthodox Sisters will be watchful and warn you of any retaliation Directeur Venport attempts to impose. Leader Torondo is correct — Josef Venport is dangerous, and for the sake of our souls, you must see that he is defeated, or at least controlled.”
Roderick held his tongue, because the Butlerians needed to be controlled as well. Thinking back, from the time of Faykan Corrino I, to Emperor Jules, and now Salvador, he saw the Corrino throne growing weaker and weaker. Unless Salvador ever had an heir of his own — which seemed increasingly unlikely — Roderick’s own son, Javicco, would become the next Emperor. Would Javicco only be a figurehead, presiding over an empire with an ill-prepared military force at the mercy of a group of antitechnology fanatics while beholden to a powerful business magnate?
Roderick knew that both Venport Holdings and the Butlerian movement needed to be drastically weakened before the Corrino throne could regain its rightful level of power. And with that goal in mind, perhaps Salvador’s action was a step in the right direction to diminish Directeur Venport’s power. After that, the Butlerians had to be neutered.
Better, Roderick thought, if the two great forces could bloody each other.…
Chapter 61 (I long for something that has always)
I long for something that has always eluded me in my centuries of life: an enduring sense of family and home.
— VORIAN ATREIDES
Vor stood on the aft deck of the sport-fishing boat, watching as a reticent Willem Atreides organized the nets, traps, floats, and other gear. The young man worked silently, going through the motions with efficient familiarity.
It was a modern craft and well maintained, with teak decks, custom storage lockers, and polished brass fittings. The boat glided through moderate seas, with Orry at the helm inside the cabin. The skies were gray, the air chilly.
“I’ve got years of experience on the sea,” Vor said to Willem. “Can I help?”
“No, thanks,” the tall blond man said as he yanked a knot tight. “This was Uncle Shander’s boat, and I know where he liked to keep everything, exactly how he wanted the lines rolled.” Willem drew a breath, let it out in a long sigh. The old man’s mysterious death still hung above them like a heavy storm. The coroner had verified that Shander had been struck in the head and then swept out to sea, but no one could prove it was a murder.
Vor didn’t think the young man intended to hurt his feelings with the remark, but it reminded him of how much he’d missed in his years away from Caladan. Family relationships were fraught with countless details, unseen threads, and tiny puzzle pieces of the past that formed a series of everyday events. The two brothers had spent most of their lives with Shander Atreides, building a comfortable nest of existence with untold thousands of interactions. Vor couldn’t just step into that and expect to be treated as part of the family even in the best of times, and now after the tragedy everyone was off-balance.
He could tell how much the two young men had loved their uncle. Willem and Orry had experienced devastating losses when their parents were killed in a monstrous hurricane that tore up the coastline, but they had been young at the time. The inexplicable, unexpected death of a kindly old man who liked to repair fishing nets seemed beyond their comprehension. Over more than two centuries, Vor had been through every possible emotional permutation of grief himself.…
He felt a gentle breeze on his face, heard the drone of the boat’s twin engines, and smelled the familiar salt air that he remembered from so long ago. The scent refreshed his memories, and he pictured the first time he’d seen Leronica Tergiet in a seaside tavern. The town had changed so little over the generations.…
Orry worked the controls, and Vorian felt the engines vibrate harder. They glided around foaming water and the shadows of submerged reefs, then picked up speed as the boat headed out to open sea.
Life was unpredictable, with some delightful surprises, but also shocking events. Vor had returned to Caladan in search of an anchor in his life, trying to regain a part of the happiness he’d left behind. Maybe he was naïve in that wish. He had been back only a short time before Shander Atreides died. It was a silly superstition to think so, but perhaps he carried the shadow of bad luck with him.
Unfortunate events occurred everywhere, to everyone — life just happened. Shander’s family might never learn the exact details of how he had died, or who might have been responsible, but Willem and Orry would mourn him and remember him. And eventually, they would move on. Orry was about to get married, Willem had a chance to be promoted in the Caladan Air Patrol … and Vor could try to forge the bonds he’d never had with his own sons.
He could never take Shander’s place, but he could be Vorian Atreides. He had battle ribbons from his service in the Jihad; Imperial coins had been minted with his face on them, but none of that mattered anymore. He would rather be recognized for his ability to love. He wanted to care about other people, about his family — however far estranged they might be — and have them care for him in return.
That would require a different type of commitment and endurance. He had found that for many years with Mariella on Kepler, but had been forced to leave it all behind in order to save his family. He wasn’t certain if he could reestablish a sense of family here on Caladan, but he vowed to try.
The boat continued chopping its way through the small waves, bouncing hard enough to jar Vor’s teeth. He gripped the side rail to keep his balance. Young Orry seemed intent on the boat’s controls, accelerating. Willem stood at the bow and let the spray and wind whip his face and hair. He closed his eyes, as if drinking it all in.
With a whirring noise, long, thin stabilizers extended outward on either side of the hull. Orry increased the speed even more. Vor peered over the rail, then looked up to shout at Willem. “What kind of a rig is this?”