Navigators of Dune

He took heart from her apparent interest. “The VenHold Spacing Fleet is a good model, if it were under the leadership of anyone other than Josef Venport. Venport Holdings, as a company, must be dissolved. The whole Imperium must see that they have been defeated after defying their Emperor.” He spoke quickly of ideas he had been pondering, and now that the opportunity arose, he seized his chance.

“I would endorse a unified and reliable spacing fleet of large ships guided without error by Navigators. I propose the creation of an independent Spacing Guild to serve commerce throughout the Imperium. Communication and transportation is the tapestry that binds our civilization together across countless planetary systems. Trade must be allowed to function unfettered by war or the threat of war. Under this new Spacing Guild, I will see that you have all the Navigators you wish, and all the spice you need.” He hardened his voice. “But only if Venport Holdings is defeated and dissolved.”

Norma hesitated, considering possibilities in her advanced mind. “Very well, I will remove the defenses around Denali. Your troops may land and do as you wish.”

Fielle interrupted, “But Josef Venport is your great-grandson. You would betray him?”

“Josef is mortal and insignificant. On the great path of prescience, the future is spread out before us. I have foreseen a Spacing Guild such as you propose. Now we must make it happen.”

Roderick’s heart pounded. Could the solution be so straightforward, so simple as this?

Norma continued, “But I must have your word, Emperor Roderick Corrino. No more treachery.” She amplified her voice so that it pounded across the flagship’s bridge. “Vow, before your God and these witnesses, that no Navigators will be harmed, neither the ones that have been transformed nor those who are yet to undergo the transformation.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “You have my Imperial promise, and my promise as the noble head of House Corrino. No Navigator will be harmed. We have a bargain.”

Without a word, Norma folded space, and her sealed tank withdrew with a clap of muffled thunder.

Roderick looked at Admiral Harte, drew a breath, and said, “All Imperial ships, stand down immediately. Cease firing on the VenHold vessels.” His brow furrowed. “But continue our bombardment of the surface.”

Less than five minutes later, without warning, every one of the original VenHold defense ships circling Denali simply folded space and vanished, abandoning the laboratory planet, leaving it naked and vulnerable. It reminded the Emperor of what Norma had done with the VenHold fleet besieging Salusa.

Roderick smiled at the suddenly undefended installation. “Admiral Harte, dispatch our troops—thousands of armed soldiers in personnel carriers. Swarm the planet and arrest the scientists.” He took a deep, agitated breath. “And bring me Josef Venport.”

Things of great value can vanish in an instant.

—a saying of Old Earth

As Valya coiled to kill him, Korla’s booming voice seemed to make time stop. “Enough! Step away from that man or you’ll be suffering mortal wounds of your own.”

Vorian lay battered and broken on the ground, expecting the next strike to be the deathblow. He was prepared for it. One way or another he had to stop this vendetta, even if it meant the end of his own long life. At least Willem could survive and thrive.

But Korla was preventing the end of the feud. “Let her finish me,” Vor croaked.

“No!” Willem shouted. “Kill him, and I’ll kill you.”

“No,” Vor said. “No, you won’t. This vendetta has gone on too long, for too many generations. It has to stop here!”

The scavengers who had gathered to watch the duel now put an end to it. The hard-bitten workers who had survived so much hardship raised their brute-force projectile rifles and aimed them toward the surviving commando Sisters. They also had daggers at their hips and were ready to fight. If any of the Sisters moved, they would be gunned down. Although Vor understood that they would not surrender easily with their deadly fighting skills, the odds were not in their favor.

“That’s enough, I said,” Korla repeated. “Vorian Atreides leaves here alive.”

Valya flashed a sharp glance at her. “We came all this way to kill the Atreides. I intend to do so.”

“In life, we don’t always get what we want,” Korla said in a mocking tone. “You’ve had your fun. You’ve beaten him.”

“Not enough.”

“But I said it was enough,” Korla answered, with a swirl of her flowmetal cape. “And I rule here, not you.”

Valya seemed torn between her desire to kill Vor and her desire to make him suffer for as long as possible. She looked at all the deadly weapons pointed at her commandos, hundreds of armed scavengers against a handful of women. After reaching an apparent crisis in her mind, she pulled away from Vor, lifted her hands in capitulation, and sneered down at his broken form. “You want me to let him run away.”

“Yes,” Korla said.