Navigators of Dune

The sensual movements had a ritualistic, prolonged manner that did not seem to be a particularly efficient means of reproduction, taking much longer than was absolutely required. Nevertheless, it was a fine example of the experimental possibilities the new body offered him.

Afterward, she lay close beside him, kissing his cheek and stroking his hair. Erasmus didn’t entirely understand this epilogue, although he had read about it in countless romantic poems and stories. She didn’t seem to want more from him, only this nearness. Because it seemed to be an essential part of the activity for her, he held her and said nothing.

“I love you, Erasmus,” she said.

He filed away all the data of his new experiences.

In an objective analysis of the life and accomplishments of Vorian Atreides, it is surprising that he did not demand more for himself.

—HARUK ARI, historian of the Jihad

After leaving Chusuk and beginning to spread rumors that he would go to ground on Corrin, Vorian Atreides had one more important matter to take care of. If the Harkonnens left him alone, he would be surprised yet content, but if they came for him—as he expected—he intended to be ready.

When he arrived at Salusa Secundus, he was surprised to see so many Butlerian warships in orbit as well as huge crowds encamped in Zimia. But his business was with the Emperor, not the antitechnology movement.

He announced himself to spaceport security and asked to see Emperor Roderick, hoping the new ruler was an improvement from petty Salvador, who had caused Vor so many problems. He did not hide his identity, though—for this occasion he needed to be the legendary Hero of the Jihad, not a man trying to erase his past.

He intended to ask a favor, for Willem’s sake. In all his years—centuries, in fact—of service, Vorian Atreides had asked for very little. His request would not threaten the Imperium, but it mattered a great deal to him.

The guards searched him at the entrance to the Palace, checked his identity papers, and then looked at one another in startled confusion.

“Yes, I am Vorian Atreides,” he repeated his name. “I am confident the Emperor knows who I am. As do you, I assume?”

The guards placed him in a comfortable holding room and told him to wait. It was not a particularly auspicious welcome for a man of his stature, but Vor understood the caution. Because of a recent VenHold attack on Salusa and the chaotic influx of so many Butlerians, Imperial security had been increased to the highest levels.

After six hours, he was escorted from the holding chamber with profuse apologies from Chamberlain Bakim. The man greeted him cordially, apologized again, and led Vor away from the Palace to the Hall of Parliament in the center of the capital city, where the flags of noble houses hung from the golden-domed building and all around the large central square.

The chamberlain took him to Roderick’s well-appointed Parliament office, where the Emperor was pacing beside his desk. Roderick Corrino gave him a strong handshake and said, “I regret the delay in seeing you, but the Imperial capital has recently been under siege—in more ways than one.” The Emperor sighed, ran his hands through his own hair. “With all the turmoil in the Imperium, I thought you were long gone, making a quiet life for yourself.”

“I stayed away, Sire—as your brother commanded. Emperor Salvador made that a condition before he would agree to protect Kepler against raids by slavers. I did as he asked, and tried to let history swallow me, but as it turned out, my own history would not leave me alone.”

The restrictions had created much heartache for him, making him leave Mariella and all of his extended family on Kepler, but Salvador’s insecurity was not to be disputed at the time. Vor drew a breath, met the Emperor’s gaze directly. “I promise I will depart swiftly and cause you no further trouble, Sire. I came here to beg a favor. I hope you will grant it.”

Roderick sat down, looking cautious, and dismissed the chamberlain, who hurried off to other duties. “That’s better than you challenging me for the throne. I’ve had enough of that in the past week.” The attempt at witticism fell flat, and he grew serious. “I have always admired your war record and sense of duty, Vorian Atreides. You are a genuine hero, and we have few enough of those. But these are not the best of times to ask for favors.”

“It is small enough, Sire. A family matter—in fact, you can ensure the future of my family.”

An aide came to the door, signaling the Emperor. “The pilot of your flyer reports that all is ready for the inspection flight, Sire.”