Navigators of Dune

“He was of no use to me, either,” Josef muttered. He remembered that the man’s guilt and silly superstitions had driven him mad, and he had wandered off into the desert. “Taref told us you had no interest in civilization or spice production, and that it was futile to negotiate with you.”

With a shake of his head, Modoc said, “That was when my father served as Naib, but thanks to his recent and fortuitous death, I am the leader now. And your representatives here”—he nodded toward the two Mentat administrators—“offered our tribe an extraordinary amount of your foreign money … money that allows us to obtain certain things.”

Rogin said, “We bought their sietch outright, Directeur—an entire cave city in the deep desert. They have kept it hidden and secure for generations. It will make a perfect protected location.” The Mentats were careful not to explain what exactly Josef intended to do with this place.

“That doesn’t sound like a bargain the Freemen would make. Abandoning their sietch for any amount of money?” He looked at the desert man. “Where will you go?”

Modoc merely shrugged. “The desert has countless hiding places, and we know where to find them. Our scouts discovered another network of caves even farther out in the Tanzerouft, so we will move there. We can build a new sietch, outfit the caves, install moisture seals. Our tribe will live as before, but now we will also have great wealth.” He spread his callused hands on the clean metal table and smiled. “As Naib, I made the most pragmatic decision.”

From inside her tank, Norma said, “Prepare Modoc’s sietch quickly. Fill it with spice for my Navigators. A large stockpile is necessary for our security.” Her inhuman voice startled them.

Josef flashed a surprised look at Norma. He had not intended to reveal to this desert man that the facility would be a spice bank. “We have not yet determined what we will put inside the storehouse.”

“Spice for my Navigators,” Norma said. “Enough to last for years.”

The Freeman faced her, strangely delighted to hear the mutated woman speak from the tank. “My tribe is already preparing to move out, and we will leave our old caves for you. I will guide your representatives there. You’ll be satisfied, I promise. You can store all the spice you like.”

Josef hardened his voice. “I did not say what the sietch will be used for.”

Modoc narrowed his eyes in a cagy expression. “Come now, Directeur. Such a secure facility would only be used to store something of great value. On Arrakis, that means either spice or water, and since I know you offworlders do not place the proper value on water, then I assume you would fill my sietch with spice, just like the many spice silos and guarded vaults you already have.” He grinned, looking flippant. “But my people can go out into the desert and glean whatever spice we need for ourselves, and with your money, we can purchase all the water we desire.”

Josef grumbled, wondering what it would take to buy this man’s silence. He even considered killing him.

Yet if Josef drove out the Imperial guardians that Roderick had left here, and placed enough VenHold security around the planet, as well as around the spice bank, no one would be able to threaten it. He wasn’t worried about a few bandits and black marketeers.

Modoc continued, annoyingly persistent. “So much melange! My sietch is large and spacious, Directeur. How will you ever get all that spice?”

Tomkir said, “We are running feasibility studies. The amount of spice the facility would hold is indeed beyond our present production capabilities.”

Josef announced, “Then we acquire spice in other ways. Increase our raids on Imperial ships and spice silos, seize any available melange in Arrakis City and in desert outposts. Divert part of our exports to the stockpile and blame the shorter supply on the present turmoil in the Imperium, which will also drive up prices. Our spice bank will be complete in no time.” Grinning, he turned back to the tank. “Grandmother, we will then be safe against any crisis that cuts off our supply.”

Modoc looked perplexed and amused. “Like my brother Taref, I do not understand offworlder foolishness. What is the point of hoarding spice in an empty sietch, when one can simply go out into the desert and gather more? There will always be spice.”

Josef’s respect for the desert man diminished. “I have encountered enough obstacles that I no longer believe in the concept of infinite resources.”

He does not suffer from a lack of ambition; rather, his ambition is controlled and rational.

—From “Prince Roderick Corrino,” a biographical sketch