Mentats of Dune

Dorotea stepped closer to her rival. “My truthsense tells me that Reverend Mother Valya speaks honestly.” She extended her hand to the old woman, beckoning her. “Let us fulfill your dreams and visions, Grandmother. Let us build on your example, rather than on a tragedy.”

As the wind whipped around them, Raquella heard an upswelling of internal voices in her female ancestry, a chain of voices telling her in a strange harmonics, “This is not your time to die, Raquella. Not here, and not today. You need to live and inspire others — for as long as you can.”

At last, she turned away from the precipice and faced the gathered Sisters of Wallach IX and Salusa, all crowding together, beseeching her. Raquella said, “The voices of Other Memory tell me to believe you. They are normally a background murmur, but they speak to me now — clearly, and in complete agreement.”

The women whispered, looked at one another. Their eyes were wide, desperate. She saw both factions standing resolved, ready to cooperate.

The old woman stepped away from the cliff and into the arms of Valya and Dorotea, who both embraced her in a moment of shared emotion.

Chapter 65 (An Emperor’s grasp can encompass a million worlds)

An Emperor’s grasp can encompass a million worlds, and his decisions can bring down entire civilizations. Even so, the day-to-day activities are tedious.

— EMPEROR SALVADOR CORRINO, Expanded Memoirs, Volume VII

When the Emperor arrived at Arrakis to assert Imperial control over spice operations, Josef Venport intended to be there waiting for him. Salvador Corrino was so naïve!

Departing from Kolhar on one of his fast spacefolders, Josef took the desert man Taref, who had served him well, despite being duped by the Half-Manford’s supposed death. The Freeman saboteur had been of little use, though, since finding his female friend dead in the snow; all he could talk about was returning to Arrakis. Josef couldn’t understand the workings of the desert man’s mind.

Initially he’d been convinced that once the primitive nomads saw other planets and tasted as much water as they could drink, they would never want to go back to their original poverty. How could they not be grateful? But for some incomprehensible reason, the squalid desert life beckoned Taref again.

Too often Josef was disappointed by irrational human beings, the bad decisions they made, their self-destructive behavior. He mourned for the species.

Showing considerable sympathy, he had even offered the young man a furlough on Caladan to recover and get his wits together, since the desert people seemed to have an obsession with that ocean world. Taref had insisted that he wanted to return home — though he couldn’t explain what he expected to find there. He had made it clear he had no place in his old sietch. Nevertheless, Josef granted the request, knowing he would gain nothing by arguing.

When they reached Arrakis City, however, Josef delayed releasing the young man from his service. “I have one final task for you, something only you can do. I will pay you well.”

Taref looked away. His melange-blue eyes were eerie and hard to read. “I don’t require any additional payment, Directeur. You have returned me to Arrakis, as I requested. Now, I wish to be on my own.”

Josef frowned, scratching his mustache. “But where will you go? What will you do here?”

“I do not know … but at least I am back on Arrakis. The path of my life has vanished like footprints in the sand. I ca

Josef had little patience for Zensu

“Why would you do that?”

“If they don’t want to continue to do their jobs, then your companions are no good to me anyway. I’ll send them back here, provided they go to the deep desert and never reveal what they’ve done for me.”

Taref considered for a long moment. “I am confident they will want that. But I am surprised you would release us so easily.”

Josef narrowed his eyes, as if the young man were questioning his sense of honor and gratitude. “I don’t put loyal, competent workers to death, young man. Unlike some leaders, I believe in human nature. I treated all of you fairly, and I’ve always kept my word. In return, I expect continued honor from you.”

“Honor, yes. The honor of saboteurs.” Taref shook his head, then squared his shoulders again. “Very well. But when I finish this task, I will be gone, with no further obligation to you, to my people, or to anyone else. What do you require of me?”

“The Emperor is taking a long, slow passage with old FTL engines. As soon as he arrives, I need you to find a way aboard his barge with the regular spaceport maintenance and refueling crew.” Then, to Taref’s astonishment, he explained the mission.

THE IMPERIAL BARGE took its time getting to Arrakis, on a leisurely, luxurious voyage the way the old League of Nobles members used to travel.

Meanwhile, Josef spent three days in Arrakis City receiving reports from Combined Mercantiles, inspecting spice-harvesting records and assessing the numerous losses, including expensive machinery as well as experienced crews who were killed in Coriolis storms and sandworm attacks. Salvador Corrino had no idea how dangerous a business it was.

The spice workers were proficient in mounting a rapid response every time a worm was spotted. The moment one of the monsters was identified in the distance, rescue aircraft would soar in, evacuate the crews, and whisk away the spice cargo in containers designed to be detachable. In dire circumstances, the armored spice containers could be jettisoned far enough away that they might be retrieved. Draigo Roget had dedicated an entire arm of VenHold manufacturing to producing replacement equipment faster than Arrakis could destroy it.

Through its many separate holdings, the company’s investments were immense, as were the profits, which increased every year. For generations, the Venports had cultivated and improved the melange industry, inventing techniques and equipment, driving out poachers, securing and solidifying their claims.

And Salvador Corrino thought he could simply step in and seize it all with a personal appearance and the stroke of a pen? What a fool!

The Imperial Barge was a flying palace, complete with a throne room, audience chamber, functionaries, sycophants, and attendants, along with a ten-member military crew. According to his intelligence from the Imperial Court, the barge had fallback Holtzman engines, but relied on the slower drive that had been used before the discovery of foldspace travel.

Normally, the Emperor would have traveled gratis aboard a VenHold spacefolder, so by using his own transportation, he was snubbing Josef. Despite the intentional snub, the Imperial Barge would have to be serviced and refueled by an Arrakis City maintenance crew — which would provide all the opportunity Taref needed.

Through high-resolution surveillance satellites, Josef watched the gaudy Imperial Barge enter orbit. One of the Emperor’s ministers sent a message to the Combined Mercantiles headquarters even before Salvador delivered his pompous declaration of arrival and formal intent, which followed minutes later.

Reading the transmitted decree, Josef shook his head at its verbosity and folly. Such a waste of his valuable time. He knew the Half-Manford was behind this absurd action, but the Emperor should know better — as should Roderick Corrino. Had everyone lost their sense of reason?