Fielle bowed slightly. “Sire, to begin my service with a goodwill gesture, I am prepared to offer secret information about your rival Directeur Venport. You may find it valuable, or at least interesting. And it will begin to prove my value to you.”
Roderick was intrigued. “Information about Venport could indeed be of use to me.”
The Sisters conferred in whispers, and then Fielle reported, “Venport Holdings is desperate to control the spice operations on Arrakis for reasons that go beyond mere profits. I’m sure you realize that the Imperial military force your brother left there is not capable of maintaining control over the planet. Combined Mercantiles, a puppet corporation for Venport Holdings, continues harvesting spice, producing far more than the independent Imperial contractors. Sooner or later Venport will no longer tolerate the Imperial presence, and their incentive will be to drive out your ships. Combined Mercantiles has more spice-gathering crews on the desert planet than you do, and greater military might to defend them. The resources that Directeur Venport is willing to expend to control Arrakis exceeds what you can spare, especially with Admiral Harte’s battle group held hostage.”
Roderick scowled. “I do not have any spare ships that I can use to impose my authority on Arrakis.” But if Roon is successful at Kolhar, I will win control over all the VenHold operations anyway.
Roderick ground his teeth together. That infernal planet had caused so much trouble, and his brother’s inept handling of an attempted takeover had led to the current crisis — as well as his own death. Frowning, he said, “That confirms information I already have, Truthsayer. You have told me nothing new.”
“You cannot extract your mining crews and troops from Arrakis. They are struggling to defend their spice operations, but they have no feasible way to deliver the spice they produce, other than by using black-market runners, who steal as much as they sell. Your citizens are addicted and demanding melange, and they are growing restless. They need to see the flow of spice restored.”
Roderick admitted, “We didn’t station enough firepower there to hold spice operations under Imperial control, and I don’t have the forces to recapture it. Venport’s profits must be immense if he continues to expend so much to maintain his operations there.”
“Spice means more than just profits to Directeur Venport. You must understand this, Sire.” Fielle gazed at him. “He needs to provide a constant supply of spice for his Navigators. Without spice, his Navigators cannot envision safe paths through the universe. Without spice, he cannot create more Navigators. Without spice, Venport Holdings cannot function. That is why Arrakis is so vital to him.”
“And how did you come by this information?” Haditha interjected, looking suspicious.
“I cannot reveal our internal source, but Mother Superior Valya requested that I share this knowledge with you.”
Frowning, Roderick said, “I will consider it thoroughly.” Then he spoke to the honor guard. “Take these women to the quarters vacated by the previous Sisters. Reverend Mother Dorotea served me well — so when I have need of a Truthsayer, I hope I can trust you as I did her.”
As if choreographed, Fielle and the women bowed in unison, then turned to follow their escort, leaving Roderick and Haditha next to the new rosebush. He spoke quietly, relying on his wife as a sounding board, as he always did.
“I am far more worried about Venport and his control of Arrakis than I am about the schemes of those women. But General Roon and his strike force should reach Kolhar soon. If he breaks Venport Holdings, then we will have all the time we need to reassert control over Arrakis.” He drew a deep breath. “The Imperium will be stable again.”
10
A plan is only that — a plan. It is not the actual doing of a thing.
After the pilot checked and rechecked his manual calculations, the giant foldspace carrier plunged into the labyrinth between space, carrying the Imperial strike force toward the Kolhar system. The carrier would arrive close to the VenHold stronghold, depending on the variance and navigational errors.
As soon as the Imperial carrier emerged above the planet, the attack ships would be dispatched in an overwhelming surprise assault. Without any time to respond, Venport Holdings would fall. Anticipation built among the troops.
General Roon stood on the bridge, hands clasped behind his back, waiting. He looked forward to the spectacle, since it gave him the opportunity to prove himself. A defeat of Directeur Venport would dispel any lingering personal issues between himself and Roderick Corrino. At last.
Roon had served on the staff of Commanding General Odmo Saxby, where he’d seen firsthand what a fool Saxby was, but he had never reported his superior (although perhaps he should have). Finally, Saxby’s incompetence came to the attention of the new Emperor, and Roderick had ordered sweeping changes. Now, it was Roon’s turn to lead. He had earned this opportunity.
The surprise strike force was a significant portion of the Imperial space military, in order to guarantee victory and take down the man who had assassinated Salvador Corrino. But the logistics of gathering, preparing, and loading so many ships aboard the gigantic carrier had delayed the launch for more than a day. Mechanical issues, checklist irregularities, personnel reassignments. But it all had to be done properly. General Roon would have only one chance, and he wouldn’t let Roderick down.
As the carrier moved out of Salusan orbit, his technicians had gone over the Holtzman diagnostics, studying the space-navigation panels. Since they did not have the use of a Navigator, the course to the Kolhar system had been calculated and recalculated. Just to be safe.
When Roon finally gave the order, reality folded around the carrier, and they plunged into a shortcut through dimensionally uncharted space.
Every Imperial warship in the hold was loaded with advanced weapons, crewed with highly trained soldiers, the best in the fleet. Pilots of space fightercraft had climbed into cockpits; large destroyers were prepared to drop out of the carrier’s hold immediately upon arrival. This strike force would smash through any defenses Venport had managed to mount.
One chance. Roon tightened his fist.
The foldspace passage did not take long, but seemed to take forever. He transmitted to all ships, all soldiers. “Prepare for arrival. This will be quite a surprise.”
The engine pitch changed, while lines and streaks of color around the spacefolder slowed in their fantastic flow.
Roon stared ahead through the wide windowport as the carrier snapped back into normal space again. He expected to see the planet below, a defensive ring of VenHold ships taken off guard, scrambling to prepare their defense.
Instead, the bridge deck was filled with blazing light, raging ionized gases, stellar fire. “Navigation error!” someone yelled.
The carrier’s course was only fractionally off, a tiny mistake on a cosmic scale — but enough to drop the warship into the broiling fringes of Kolhar’s sun.
The First Nav Officer shouted, but Vinson Roon could see nothing at all because the searing light had rendered him blind, along with everyone else on the flight deck. There was no time for further screaming or whimpering.
Coronal loops swirled up and around; fiery convection cells churned plasma below. The foldspace carrier vaporized instantly, taking with it a hundred grand battleships.