Текст книги "Mentats of Dune"
Автор книги: Brian Herbert
Соавторы: Kevin Anderson
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Текущая страница: 28 (всего у книги 38 страниц)
Chapter 60 (The wrongful death of a child)
The wrongful death of a child is something a parent can never forgive, but I fear for the safety of my husband if he seeks reprisals against the Butlerians.
– HADITHA CORRINO, private diary
“The consequences of such a brash action against VenHold will be like an avalanche, Salvador,” said Prince Roderick. “More than we can handle. It’s not a good idea, and it’s not safe for you to go to Arrakis – not while the situation is so volatile.”
He and the Emperor walked with Reverend Mother Esther-Cano, who had taken on the Truthsayer duties while Dorotea was away on Wallach IX.
Salvador sounded defensive. “I will have Imperial soldiers with me. In fact, you should come along – we’ll do this together. We won’t be using a VenHold transport, and the faster-than-light engines on the Imperial Barge are perfectly safe.”
Normally, the Emperor and his contingent traveled aboard a perfectly safe VenHold spacefolder, but since the Emperor’s edict had such drastic implications for VenHold’s business operations, Salvador did not feel comfortable riding on one of Directeur Venport’s ships, nor would he accept the services of a rival transport company with an atrocious safety record.
“The non-Holtzman engines are safe, yes,” Roderick agreed, “but the trip to Arrakis will take three weeks, which means I have to stay on Salusa. You’ll be gone at least two months, and someone reliable has to run the Imperium until you return.”
They entered the palace hangar where the Imperial Barge was being prepared for the Emperor’s forthcoming trip, a grand old vessel that traveled the old-fashioned way, as all the ships in the League of Nobles had before Tio Holtzman’s invention of foldspace travel. Roderick agreed that the journey would be safer than risking foldspace travel without a Navigator, but that wasn’t what he worried about. He thought his brother’s entire plan to seize spice operations would provoke one of the most powerful men in the Imperium.
Salvador would not be convinced otherwise.
Echoing noises of tools and voices filled the hangar’s cavernous space. The barge was more than large enough to hold an entourage of Imperial guards, along with staff and servants. They all anticipated having a marvelous journey, filled with pomp and circumstance.
Salvador looked up at the gilded hull. “It will be fine, brother. Directeur Venport sent a message accepting the edict. He is not happy about the transition, but he agreed to show me the spice operations personally.”
Roderick lowered his voice. “That doesn’t sound right to me. All the profits and power you’re asking him to surrender? He’s not the kind of man to surrender to your decree so easily.”
“On the contrary, it’s refreshing when a subject actually heeds the orders of his Emperor. You can be sure we’ll hear plenty of complaints – a veritable army of VenHold attorneys will descend on Zimia to thrash out the details, and I do not for a moment believe he won’t profit from the change.”
Roderick made a noncommittal sound, unable to forget the image of the Manford Torondo look-alike assassinated in Arrakis City. He lowered his voice. “This might be an excellent time to test your stand-in. Your new double looks so much like you that he might almost fool me.”
“But he wouldn’t fool you, brother, and I doubt he would fool Directeur Venport either. My double would have to keep up the charade for weeks, in close quarters. No, this is something I must do for myself. I am the Emperor, and no one would dare harm me.”
Esther-Cano listened to both men. Even though she was a pureblood Sorceress with Sisterhood training, she had proved herself reliable to Roderick’s satisfaction. She had close-cropped black hair, small intelligent eyes, and an air of command, as if she had experience and wisdom far beyond her years. Now she interjected, “Sire, the Prince is wise to suggest caution.”
The Emperor shook his head. “I’ve already made my decision. We will depart as soon as the barge is ready and my entourage has been gathered.” He turned and issued orders to whomever might be listening, assuming that someone with authority would hear him. “Make certain the vessel is supplied with everything we need. Oh, and add some extra troops, just to keep my brother happy.”
Roderick let out a slow, uneasy sigh, didn’t argue further.
Workmen scurried along a webwork of scaffolding around the ship, inspecting the hull and taking measurements by hand, rather than using automated metal-lattice scanners, which the Committee of Orthodoxy had recently forbidden.
Reverend Mother Esther-Cano looked up. “Away from the scaffolds—now!”
She rushed them to the side an instant before a heavy seam welder crashed to the hangar floor where Salvador had been standing. Above, the crew cried out in dismay; guards raced into the hangar, yelling for all work activities to stop.
Rather than being outraged by the accident, Salvador was fascinated by the Reverend Mother. “How did you know that? Are you prescient?”
“Just observant, Sire.”
He gave her a paternal pat on the back. “Well, I’m glad of that.” He shouted back up to the crew. “Interrogate the clumsy worker, but I want no delays. We have a long journey ahead of us.”
More cautious now, they continued the inspection, staying at a safer distance from the work area.
The barge was an elaborate and antique construction in the shape of a teardrop. Even though it would travel using old-style FTL engines, the aft compartment had been expanded to carry backup Holtzman engines as well, for folding space if necessary. The hull gleamed with an amalgamation of rare and valuable metals; the ship had a style and class of fine workmanship that had not been seen since the start of the Jihad. The Emperor especially liked the opulence of the interior, fitted with tiny jewels from a variety of planets around the Imperium.
The vessel was one of the treasures Salvador had acquired from the renegade House Péle, and he was eager to show it off. Several pilots were specially trained to operate the craft. When the fittings and preparations were completed, the barge would be ready, and its systems given rigorous shakedowns before the journey to Arrakis.
Salvador looked up at the barge, smiling. “I shall arrive with great fanfare and put an end to this matter. With spice operations under Imperial control, I shall reassert my authority and elevate my position as Emperor … and I will not have to worry about melange supplies. I’ll plant the Corrino flag and establish a desert palace on Arrakis.” He chuckled. “On an oasis, even if we have to import the water. It will be done, because I have commanded it.”
Filled with pride, Salvador made the whole Arrakis venture sound fabulous and romantic. Yet Roderick doubted his brother would ever want to return to the desert planet after he experienced what Arrakis was actually like. There would be no desert palace, no royal oasis.
The balding Emperor paused beneath the bulbous front end of the craft and admired the golden-lion Corrino emblem, shiny and polished, which had recently replaced the flame symbol of House Péle.
Despite his reservations, Roderick did not dispute the concerns Manford Torondo and Dorotea had raised about the overreach of Venport Holdings; he was more worried about the volatile Butlerians, however. Manford was a bully, a loose cannon, and not afraid to use his followers as a threat. Though Roderick wanted to hamstring the reckless mobs, he knew that House Corrino was not strong enough to survive a widespread Butlerian uprising across the Imperium.
The power and influence Directeur Venport wielded were just as great as Manford Torondo’s, but he had not been openly hostile to the throne. Much of the Imperial Armed Forces even depended on VenHold ships for transport. The man had built his own commercial empire, made his own rules, while paying little more than lip service to the Emperor. At least he was reasonable, Roderick thought. The lesser of two evils … unless Venport was provoked too much.
Salvador said, “I will be glad to be done with this. I have grown exceedingly tired of the petty feud between Venport and the Butlerians. I am the Emperor, and by taking over Arrakis I intend to show both of them who rules the Imperium.”
“Directeur Venport won’t see it that way – he’ll know you’re still doing what Manford wants,” Roderick said. “By bowing to Butlerian demands and seizing the spice business, you may well be creating a much more dangerous enemy.”
“Nonsense! Despite Manford’s suggestion, Arrakis was my world to begin with. We are only formalizing what already exists.” He smiled stiffly. “This will be like our triumph on Rossak. We broke the Sisterhood, got rid of the corrupt part of it, and kept the best Sisters here, close to the throne. We’ll do the same with VenHold.”
Esther-Cano stood quietly next to the two men. “Sire, our orthodox Sisters will be watchful and warn you of any retaliation Directeur Venport attempts to impose. Leader Torondo is correct – Josef Venport is dangerous, and for the sake of our souls, you must see that he is defeated, or at least controlled.”
Roderick held his tongue, because the Butlerians needed to be controlled as well. Thinking back, from the time of Faykan Corrino I, to Emperor Jules, and now Salvador, he saw the Corrino throne growing weaker and weaker. Unless Salvador ever had an heir of his own – which seemed increasingly unlikely – Roderick’s own son, Javicco, would become the next Emperor. Would Javicco only be a figurehead, presiding over an empire with an ill-prepared military force at the mercy of a group of antitechnology fanatics while beholden to a powerful business magnate?
Roderick knew that both Venport Holdings and the Butlerian movement needed to be drastically weakened before the Corrino throne could regain its rightful level of power. And with that goal in mind, perhaps Salvador’s action was a step in the right direction to diminish Directeur Venport’s power. After that, the Butlerians had to be neutered.
Better, Roderick thought, if the two great forces could bloody each other.…
Chapter 61 (I long for something that has always)
I long for something that has always eluded me in my centuries of life: an enduring sense of family and home.
– VORIAN ATREIDES
Vor stood on the aft deck of the sport-fishing boat, watching as a reticent Willem Atreides organized the nets, traps, floats, and other gear. The young man worked silently, going through the motions with efficient familiarity.
It was a modern craft and well maintained, with teak decks, custom storage lockers, and polished brass fittings. The boat glided through moderate seas, with Orry at the helm inside the cabin. The skies were gray, the air chilly.
“I’ve got years of experience on the sea,” Vor said to Willem. “Can I help?”
“No, thanks,” the tall blond man said as he yanked a knot tight. “This was Uncle Shander’s boat, and I know where he liked to keep everything, exactly how he wanted the lines rolled.” Willem drew a breath, let it out in a long sigh. The old man’s mysterious death still hung above them like a heavy storm. The coroner had verified that Shander had been struck in the head and then swept out to sea, but no one could prove it was a murder.
Vor didn’t think the young man intended to hurt his feelings with the remark, but it reminded him of how much he’d missed in his years away from Caladan. Family relationships were fraught with countless details, unseen threads, and tiny puzzle pieces of the past that formed a series of everyday events. The two brothers had spent most of their lives with Shander Atreides, building a comfortable nest of existence with untold thousands of interactions. Vor couldn’t just step into that and expect to be treated as part of the family even in the best of times, and now after the tragedy everyone was off-balance.
He could tell how much the two young men had loved their uncle. Willem and Orry had experienced devastating losses when their parents were killed in a monstrous hurricane that tore up the coastline, but they had been young at the time. The inexplicable, unexpected death of a kindly old man who liked to repair fishing nets seemed beyond their comprehension. Over more than two centuries, Vor had been through every possible emotional permutation of grief himself.…
He felt a gentle breeze on his face, heard the drone of the boat’s twin engines, and smelled the familiar salt air that he remembered from so long ago. The scent refreshed his memories, and he pictured the first time he’d seen Leronica Tergiet in a seaside tavern. The town had changed so little over the generations.…
Orry worked the controls, and Vorian felt the engines vibrate harder. They glided around foaming water and the shadows of submerged reefs, then picked up speed as the boat headed out to open sea.
Life was unpredictable, with some delightful surprises, but also shocking events. Vor had returned to Caladan in search of an anchor in his life, trying to regain a part of the happiness he’d left behind. Maybe he was naïve in that wish. He had been back only a short time before Shander Atreides died. It was a silly superstition to think so, but perhaps he carried the shadow of bad luck with him.
Unfortunate events occurred everywhere, to everyone – life just happened. Shander’s family might never learn the exact details of how he had died, or who might have been responsible, but Willem and Orry would mourn him and remember him. And eventually, they would move on. Orry was about to get married, Willem had a chance to be promoted in the Caladan Air Patrol … and Vor could try to forge the bonds he’d never had with his own sons.
He could never take Shander’s place, but he could be Vorian Atreides. He had battle ribbons from his service in the Jihad; Imperial coins had been minted with his face on them, but none of that mattered anymore. He would rather be recognized for his ability to love. He wanted to care about other people, about his family – however far estranged they might be – and have them care for him in return.
That would require a different type of commitment and endurance. He had found that for many years with Mariella on Kepler, but had been forced to leave it all behind in order to save his family. He wasn’t certain if he could reestablish a sense of family here on Caladan, but he vowed to try.
The boat continued chopping its way through the small waves, bouncing hard enough to jar Vor’s teeth. He gripped the side rail to keep his balance. Young Orry seemed intent on the boat’s controls, accelerating. Willem stood at the bow and let the spray and wind whip his face and hair. He closed his eyes, as if drinking it all in.
With a whirring noise, long, thin stabilizers extended outward on either side of the hull. Orry increased the speed even more. Vor peered over the rail, then looked up to shout at Willem. “What kind of a rig is this?”
Seeing his tight grip, Willem laughed as he shouted back. “Uncle Shander let Orry tinker with the engine compartment, making a few crackpot enhancements.”
From the cabin, Orry yelled at his brother, “They’re not crackpot modifications! You’ve seen them work.”
Vor knew about Caladan’s large sea animals – some predators, others passive. “Speed is always a good thing to have, when you need it.”
Orry pushed the controls forward, and Vor straightened, then laughed aloud as he shared the exhilaration with both young men. The bow lifted off the water, and spray flew like a rain shower all around them.
Willem said, “We don’t usually go this fast, so he must be showing off – maybe even trying to scare you.”
Vorian grinned. “I’ve told you about my record in the Jihad. Only a fool says he’s never scared – but it’ll take more than a fast boat to worry me as long as the engines can take it.” He watched Orry at the controls. “We don’t want to break down out here.”
Willem came closer so he didn’t have to shout over the roar of the wind and engines. “I could ask him to slow down, but he wouldn’t pay attention. I told him to slow down with his fiancée, too – see how well he listens? Now we’ve got a wedding in a few weeks.”
“I look forward to meeting her,” Vor said, and then felt a stuttering vibration in the hull. The engines sputtered; first one went off, then the other, and the boat coasted along in sudden silence. Orry tried to restart the engines, but they only made disturbing clinking noises.
Red-faced, Orry emerged from the cabin and opened a cooler-locker. “Time to stop for lunch anyway.” He handed out packets of sliced meats and cheese, which the three ate as the boat drifted on the open sea. After they finished, the two brothers each took toolkits and climbed into the cramped engine compartment while Vor remained on deck to watch the water. He listened to the clanking tools and the young men discussing what could be wrong, replacing parts, arguing at times, and laughing.
On deck, Vor saw the rolling curve of a large marine animal that surfaced not far off, then descended. Moments later, the back of another creature rolled through the water, extending a triangular fin the size of a warehouse door, before gliding back beneath the surface. Vor didn’t recognize the species.
He called down into the engine compartment, “We have visitors – several animals. Big ones.”
Willem and Orry climbed back on deck, saw the large humps on either side of the stranded boat. “Not good,” Willem said. “That’s all one animal – an Alada sea snake, the largest I’ve ever seen.”
“They usually stay deep.” Orry ran inside the cabin and returned with three rifles. “I’ve heard they can drag down whole boats.”
“Let’s hope that’s not true.” Vor took one of the rifles from Orry, and Willem took another. As they watched the curves of the dark sea snake ripple up and down, part of the beast’s back lifted to buffet the boat, and Willem fired two rounds at it.
Puffs of blood spurted from the thick hide, and the serpent’s body flinched away, then struck the hull again more aggressively. Off the port side, Vor saw the monster’s head surface – it seemed impossibly far away to be part of the same body. He fired at it several times, but the animal snapped its plated head back, and the shots missed.
The serpent collided with the boat and nearly capsized it, but the extended stabilizers kept the vessel afloat. The beast then curved around, its head cutting a wake as it churned closer. Smelling the fishy stench of the creature, Vor continued to fire the rifle, hitting it this time, but not deterring the beast. Orry and Willem also peppered the sea snake with bullets. The serpent recoiled, but still circled the boat.
Vor heard a distant buzz in the sky and saw two aircraft approaching. Willem looked at his brother. “You called in the Air Patrol? We could have fixed the boat ourselves.”
Orry seemed embarrassed. “I thought I’d give the search-and-rescue some practice. Besides, we don’t have the parts we need for the fuel system.”
The wounded sea snake lunged at the boat again, ramming the hull with its armored head. Vor heard wood splintering. “Put your pride away. I’m glad they’re here.”
The planes buzzed overhead and dropped concussion charges that made loud splashes in the water. The sea snake writhed and finally dipped beneath the waves to get away.
Feeling a wash of relief, Vor let himself grin. “Thanks for an exciting outing, boys.”
* * *
THE AIR PATROL arranged for the fishing boat to be towed into port for repairs. When Orry and Willem stepped onto the dock, they found half a dozen of their flight comrades ready with teasing remarks.
“We spotted you on the sat-screen cruising so fast that we thought you were a low-flying plane,” a young redhead said. “We decided the pilot was insane – and that’s how we knew it must be Orry Atreides.”
“Didn’t know if we’d have to shoot you down or rescue you,” said another man.
“Glad you helped drive that sea snake away,” Willem said. “Though we could have handled it on our own.”
“Yes,” Vor said. “Given a few months we probably could have paddled or drifted back to the coast.” Everyone in the group laughed.
He saw a pretty young blonde hurrying toward them with a bright smile and a gleam in her eyes – her gaze was directed entirely at Orry. She had a hypnotic way of moving, as if she had mastered the technique of drifting over the ground.
Orry lit up and pushed his way past his comrades to greet her. The others gave knowing smiles and lifted their eyebrows. She rushed forward to hug the young man. “I’m so glad you’re safe. I was worried about you!”
Willem just rolled his eyes.
Orry grabbed her arm and pulled her toward Vor. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” He seemed proud and love-struck, like a man showing off a great prize. “This is Vorian Atreides, my … distant relative.” Vor thought her face looked vaguely familiar, though he knew he had never seen her before. “And this is my fiancée, Tula. Tula Veil.”
Tula was indeed beautiful, but her eyes had an odd intensity when she looked at him. She extended her hand, and her grip was cold. “Vorian Atreides – I am very glad to meet you.”
