The monsters leveled Manford’s home, but failed to find him there. Impatient and furious, they marched across the landscape, launching more explosions, causing more destruction.
Screaming in rage, Anari ran after them, brandishing her sword, but the cymeks moved in the other direction, wrecking clusters of homes, setting more buildings on fire. Though outraged and weeping, she took solace in the fact that they were going away from Manford’s hiding place.
An hour later, leaving a swath of destruction behind them, the cymeks returned to their drop-pods and launched themselves into the sky, like fiery meteors in reverse.
In the aftermath, Anari stood helpless, holding her sword. She couldn’t guess how many hundreds — thousands? — had been slain this night, and she grieved for them. Nevertheless, she felt a steely joy in knowing that she had saved Manford. At least he was still alive!
She ran back to retrieve him from his concealment, already considering their retaliation against the vile Josef Venport.
8
Though loyalty is an admirable quality, it is often misplaced.
Preoccupied with building up Kolhar’s defenses, Josef had allowed his grasp on Arrakis spice production to slip. Norma was agitated and needed him to accompany her to the desert planet, where he could crack down on the chaos and restore the melange-harvesting operations.
Before he could head off to Arrakis, though, Josef needed to take care of one more item of business. He shuttled up to the large foldspace carrier in orbit, which served as a detention vessel holding the Imperial battle group he had taken hostage.
Roderick’s military had many well-armed ships dispersed around the Imperium as peacekeepers, but few of those were equipped with Holtzman engines. Thus, the Imperial military had to be carried aboard other large ships, and the Venport Holdings Spacing Fleet had provided transportation services for years, delivering military ships wherever they were deployed. At the time when the Emperor declared Josef an outlaw, this VenHold carrier had been hauling seventy Imperial military vessels to quell Butlerian unrest on outlying worlds. In retaliation for the arrest order, Josef had simply captured all those battleships, refusing to let them rejoin the Imperial Armed Forces. Instead, he took them to Kolhar and held them in orbit; the carrier had become their prison ship. For the time being, Admiral Umberto Harte and all his subcommanders just had to remain on the sidelines.
Of course, the victory owed more to fortuitous circumstances than to tactical genius, but Josef wouldn’t complain. He had taken those strategic pieces off the game board, and he had no intention of letting the Emperor have his assets back until he and Josef resolved their differences. This could be settled so easily, if only the Emperor would see reason!
As his shuttle cruised over the sweeping curve of the city-sized foldspace carrier, Josef was pleased to think of the neat, bloodless victory here. The carrier’s cavernous cargo vault held those Imperial warships locked into place like prisoners manacled to the walls of a dungeon. He hadn’t even needed to send his people aboard; there had been no fighting, not a single casualty. He wished all coups could be so swift and simple.
Right now, he would have the same discussion with Admiral Harte as he’d had before, but he expected no different result. Still, it had to be done before he traveled with Norma to take care of their business on Arrakis.
Once aboard the carrier, he spoke briskly to one of his VenHold employees. “Summon the Admiral — he will try to stall, as a form of passive aggression. But don’t let him be late. It’s a matter of courtesy to me.”
He made his way to the piloting deck, where the carrier’s Navigator rested in a spice-filled chamber surrounded by sweeping starry views. Inside the tank drifted a distorted figure with atrophied arms and legs, a swollen head, and oversized eyes. If Josef recalled correctly, this one’s name was Dobrec, although Navigators rarely used names, considering such labels beneath them. Without even acknowledging the Directeur’s presence, Dobrec drifted in his tank while staring into the infinity of his mind, pondering foldspace calculations or other incomprehensible thoughts.
Josef had long since stopped viewing the mutant creatures with revulsion; with their advanced minds they accomplished things no mere human ever could. And although not all Navigator candidates were volunteers, strictly speaking, and many didn’t survive the physical transformation, he did not regret what he did to them. He saw it as a tremendous opportunity, even if the candidates themselves did not always agree.
While waiting for Admiral Harte, he peered through a lens-window in the bulkhead wall to view the captive Imperial warships stacked in their holding array inside the carrier’s huge hold. Each vessel bore the Corrino crest.
The hostage battleships made him feel sad as well as triumphant. He and the Emperor should be on the same side, fighting against the Butlerian nonsense. But Roderick refused to set aside his personal vendetta, his need to make Josef face justice for the death of Salvador. That was the Emperor’s primary mistake. It would have been far better for the Imperium if he would just move on.
In the meantime, Josef could not let Roderick have these troops back. Although Harte’s crew considered themselves prisoners of war, the soldiers were still a viable, angry fighting force, which made them dangerously unpredictable. Their weapons-command systems were neutralized, but Josef wanted to come to terms with the Admiral, to make the best of an unpleasant situation.
Before the Imperial commander arrived, Josef smelled a pungent burst of ozone and saw a pale blue shimmer in the air, just as Norma Cenva’s sturdy, ornate vault appeared on the deck next to Dobrec’s tank.
Josef gave her a wry smile. “So, you decided to join us, Grandmother.”
Norma stared through the curved windowport. “I am concerned for my Navigators … for the continuing flow of spice from the planet Arrakis.” She paused, then added, “I am anxious for this distraction to be over.”
“We will go there soon, Grandmother. Spice production continues, even though our operations are more limited than before. Even though the Imperial guardian ships can still harass our work, they are not very effective. The flow of melange will continue — don’t be concerned.”
“Spice is always a matter of great concern. Prescience shows me turbulence in the future. How can you ensure a sufficient supply?”
He smiled. “I have tasked my Mentat administrators in Combined Mercantiles to establish an enormous stockpile, a spice bank. We’ll hide it in the deep desert, a guarded reserve that should see us through any difficulties.”
She drifted, as if trying to grasp what he was saying. “How will you hide it and guard it?”
“Combined Mercantiles just purchased an entire sietch in the desert, bought out the tribe of people who are living there and forced them to move. I will show you as soon as we reach Arrakis. Soon, we will fill those caves with spice so you and your Navigators will always have what you need. We can ride out any political turmoil in the Imperium.”
“It would be wise to enlarge our existing reserves on Kolhar and Denali as well,” she said. “We don’t want to put all of our eggs in one basket.”
“Of course, but those will be smaller stockpiles. Arrakis is the best place to hold the big reserve.”
“All right. Now finish your meeting so that we can go.”