Mentats of Dune

Manford’s shoulders slumped in acquiescence. “Very well, take my double to Arrakis and report back. It is critically important for us to learn how we can destroy all Venport operations there.”

Chapter 49 (I am an educated, rational businessman)

I am an educated, rational businessman, not prone to emotional outbursts, and yet I despise the Butlerians with every fiber of my being. I hate them more than any apparatus can measure.

— DIRECTEUR JOSEF VENPORT, to his wife, Cioba

When the news about Baridge reached Kolhar, Josef couldn’t find an appropriate outlet for his disgust and outrage. The murder of more than a hundred VenHold employees and forty Suk cancer doctors, the destruction of cargo shuttles as well as a massive spacefolder … and the slaughter of a priceless Navigator, Royce Fayed!

In his office tower overlooking the spaceport, Josef met with Cioba, who had let her long hair down so that it trailed past her waist. Draigo Roget wore a stony expression that did not entirely mask his i

“I have no words for this.” Josef prowled about with unreleased rage. “The thinking machines were our enemies, but at least they were comprehensible. Who can explain this? This!” He hammered his hand down on another report that glowed up on his desk screen. “After the rampage festival in Zimia, I expected Emperor Salvador to crack down on the Butlerians … but again, they launch their barbaric insanity on another planet. Against me—with impunity!”

This had gone far beyond profits and power. As Norma Cenva had warned, it was now a war of civilizations. Josef struggled to understand the Half-Manford’s fanaticism. How did he get all those people to follow him blindly, questioning nothing he said? Josef had watched video recordings of the leader’s speeches, dissected his demeanor, the way he spoke — and the man was not that charismatic. Aside from having no legs, Manford seemed rather ordinary, which made his mass appeal even more baffling.

Draigo spoke up, his normally flat voice uneven, an indication of how unsettled he was. “Manford Torondo sent out a call, and his planets are reaffirming their commitments to honor their pledges. He also sent a delegation to Salusa Secundus to insist that Emperor Salvador take aggressive action against you: new tariffs and restrictions on VenHold trade.”

Josef frowned. “Emperor Salvador is as ineffective as he is indecisive, a ruler who does nothing but collect fees and sit in pompous glory on his throne. The Imperium is being torn apart between pro- and antitechnology supporters, and he does his best to appease two sides while making no movement at all.” He let out a scornful noise. “Like a trained monkey, balancing on a ball.” His heart pounded, and the ache in his skull grew greater. “If the Emperor won’t impose punishment, then it falls to us. We have resources. We can do something.”

“The first planet to issue a statement reaffirming the oath to Manford is a small backwater world called Lectaire,” Draigo pointed out.

“Never heard of Lectaire. Does it have any economic significance? Is it even on our trade routes?”

“It’s a small agricultural world with minimal resources, no strategic importance, population under a million. Two primary cities, numerous scattered farms. No defenses whatsoever. VenHold ships have serviced Lectaire over the years, though not on a regular basis, since it isn’t cost-effective. Lately, the planet has been on our embargo list.” The Mentat blinked. “Other companies have recently made several runs there, but on the whole Lectaire is insignificant.”

Josef sat down, still trying to control his anger. “It is significant because it is the first planet to reaffirm the Half-Manford’s manifesto. We can’t let these fanatics have any victory at all. They can dance around their cave fires, but they must not be allowed to think that they’ve won.”

“Royce Fayed was a valuable asset,” Cioba said. “Norma Cenva was close to him. She’ll want to help us.”

Josef considered his options. A direct military strike against Lectaire or any other Butlerian world would certainly be traced back to him. Even if the Imperial Space Fleet and House Corrino were seemingly ineffective, he didn’t want to provoke outright war or nudge Salvador into making the wrong decision.

But he had a weapon that no one in the Imperium knew about: All of the new cymeks from Denali, guided by the brains of failed Navigators. He could give Ptolemy the opportunity for a real demonstration.

Josef realized he was smiling for the first time since the news had arrived. “The cymeks were impressive on Arrakis. They won’t have any trouble against a small farming world. We will leave no evidence behind of what hit Lectaire, and no trace of the human settlements there. It’ll be just like the Time of Titans — except this time we have a just cause.”

EVEN ISOLATED ON Denali, Ptolemy reviewed reports of the latest atrocities committed by the Butlerians. He didn’t need further incentive to despise the savages. He still had nightmares of Dr. Elchan’s screams, and of the calm, even amused expression on Manford Torondo’s face when he watched Elchan roasted alive.…

Though seven of his best cymeks were lost on Arrakis, Ptolemy had been building his army all along. And they were ready to be sent into action.

The enormous robot walkers trudged across Denali’s bleak landscape, impervious to the corrosive atmosphere. Still building up the new group, he’d installed many more failed Navigator brains into canisters, co

And they were terrifying.

When plotting revenge, some people could wait for years and years, arranging tiny pieces in such a way as to set up an enemy for complete downfall. Josef Venport was not such a man. He felt gravely insulted by Butlerian tactics. The business interests of Venport Holdings had been hurt by destructive mobs, and a Navigator had been murdered. Josef demanded a swift and devastating retaliation. Like a viper that had been stepped on, he struck back immediately.

Ptolemy was pleased to be Josef Venport’s fangs.

A VenHold hauler came to Denali to retrieve the cymek assault force. To demonstrate the importance of the mission, Norma Cenva herself guided the spacefolder.

Ptolemy worked with Administrator Noffe to load eighteen of his best cymek attackers aboard, for secret transport to Lectaire. Though he knew they would perform well, Ptolemy insisted on going along. He wanted to observe his shining examples under real conditions, a genuine victory rather than the proof of concept.

Noffe looked very proud as Ptolemy prepared to board the shuttle. “We have already accomplished tremendous things, my friend.” The pale blotches on Noffe’s skin were more prominent when he flushed with excitement. “But be careful. I want you to return safely — we still have a lot of work to do together.”

“The cymeks will protect me from the barbarians,” Ptolemy said. “And after this mission, we’ll have fewer barbarians to worry about.”

He had begun as a pure researcher, a man of science and ideas. On the planet Zenith he had devoted his life to research projects, discovering new methods to help humanity after the Jihad. He had never been bloodthirsty, never imagined harming another human being.

But such pacifism had been burned out of him by the fires that consumed his research laboratory … and his friend.

As the spacefolder traveled to Lectaire, Norma Cenva remained alone up on the pilot deck. When they reached orbit over the bucolic planet, Norma finally contacted him and also sent her message to the new cymeks. With her vastly expanded intellect, she seemed more in tune with the failed Navigator brains than with Ptolemy. Out of deference, it seemed, she included him.