Navigators of Dune

He took as many warships to the meeting as he dared, leaving as substantial a guardian force in fixed orbit above Salusa as possible. Admiral Harte’s fleet of slow-moving warships had already departed for Lampadas, where they would await their opportunity, and during that journey they were entirely out of reach of communications. They could not be recalled to reinforce defenses over the Imperial capital; the moment they activated their FTL engines and surged into space, they were beyond the point of no return. Unfortunately, Harte was expecting most of the Butlerian fleet to have been wiped out at Kolhar—but now Roderick knew that Manford’s ships had emerged from the atomic attack mostly unscathed. When the Butlerian warships returned to Lampadas, they would presumably be as powerful as ever. Harte would not be ready for that.

Now it was more imperative than ever that the Butlerian fanatics be contained, or destroyed—before they could unleash another atomic attack, perhaps against Salusa next time. But to ally himself with a man like Venport …

In deciding to partner with either Torondo or Venport, the Emperor was faced with a Hobson’s choice. Both alternatives were very bad, and presented their own large risks.

Roderick’s nostrils flared as he remembered how Venport had stood smiling before the new Emperor’s throne after the coronation, saying he was ready to get down to business, knowing all the while that he was responsible for Salvador’s death. Then, once the treachery was revealed, Venport fled like a cowardly worm, whisked away by Norma Cenva.…

Now when Roderick entered the improvised meeting chamber in the orbiting cargo hauler, accompanied by his guards and Truthsayer, the Navigator woman’s tank was already in the room. He knew that Norma’s priorities were far beyond his understanding. Despite the distraction of the large tank, Roderick focused his entire attention on Josef Venport. His enemy.

The reviled Directeur had already seated himself at the negotiating table, his cinnamon-brown hair perfectly combed, his thick mustache trimmed, his eyes narrowed and intense. “Thank you for joining me, Emperor Roderick Corrino.”

Roderick stood in front of the table, not yet deigning to sit down. “At least you acknowledge my rightful title this time.”

“I acknowledged it when I went to swear loyalty to you at your coronation, Sire. I meant it then, and I mean it now—provided we can come to a reasonable agreement.”

VenHold security troops were lined up at the back of the room, while an equal number of tense Imperial guards waited nearby, weapons at the ready, but Roderick doubted there would be any violence during this discussion. That was not Josef Venport’s way. He preferred to do things behind peoples’ backs.

Roderick took a seat across from him while the Truthsayer remained standing at his side. She frowned, as if trying to assess whether or not Venport was lying. The Emperor said, “I remind you that we still have your wife in the Imperial Palace as insurance, should you attempt any treachery.”

Cioba had agreed to the arrangement, understanding the wisdom of it, though she would rather have been at her husband’s side. The Emperor had made it clear those terms were not negotiable.

The Directeur placed his elbows on the table. “Surely you can see that your real enemy, our shared enemy, is Manford Torondo and his bloodthirsty mobs. They bullied, twisted, and manipulated your brother. They rampaged through the streets of Zimia, burning and looting. They killed your daughter. They overthrew the Mentat School on Lampadas and murdered or kidnapped your sister. And now they’ve destroyed my planet, using forbidden atomics.” Venport leaned over the table. “How much more convincing do you need, Sire? You know full well they will turn against you next, if you don’t do exactly as they say.”

Noncommittally, the Emperor said, “I agree that the Butlerian mobs are cause for great concern, and their use of forbidden atomics—even against you—makes them infinitely worse. It is apparent that they would bend any rule, break any law, to achieve their aims.” Roderick folded his hands in front of him on the negotiating table. “And their aims are not generally aligned with those of the Imperium. I can see that.”

Venport smiled in obvious relief. “Exactly as I have always maintained, Sire. We must work together. I can be your greatest ally, if we find a way to put this unpleasantness behind us.”

“Unpleasantness? My brother is dead because of you. The Emperor is dead because of you!”

Venport lifted his hands in contrition. “I understand your outrage, Sire. It was truly an unfortunate turn of events. Salvador’s death was never my intent, though I admit I wanted to remove him from the throne in order to stop the damage he was doing, the weakness he was bringing upon the Imperium.” He used his most reasonable businesslike voice. “I know you saw it yourself, Sire. You are nobody’s fool.”

“He was my brother,” Roderick insisted.