Navigators of Dune

The Emperor, besieged in Zimia, remained at a frozen standoff with the VenHold ships in orbit. The threatening cymeks loomed at the edge of the city, and the invaders held Roderick’s military ships at gunpoint. The Emperor had failed to respond to Josef Venport’s demand for surrender, but he would have to answer the ultimatum soon.

Roderick knew the Directeur could crush them and take over Zimia whenever he pleased. Venport had superior shields, newer and more powerful weapons … and three times as many ships. Roderick could see that he had lost; all that remained was to minimize the number of casualties.

But he would not just relinquish the Imperial throne!

Although the Directeur seemed to be in no hurry, his patience could be wearing thin. His next transmission was more gruff than the previous one. “I still await your response, Roderick Corrino. We have wasted enough time on the inevitable, and the Imperium needs to be set back on course. I require your immediate surrender. My terms will be reasonable—if you are reasonable.”

Inside the armored underground command center, Roderick clenched his fists, but did not transmit. “How can I negotiate with that man?”

His wife and children had been brought into the deep bunker. If he surrendered, would Venport kill his whole family anyway? Just to clean the slate?

Roderick had to find some way to drive back the cymek monstrosities and orbiting warships, but the invaders were more powerful than any forces he could rally. Should he order them to fight anyway? A suicide mission, for honor and glory if not victory? But if he incited an outright shooting war, his own people and his military would be cut to ribbons. And then what would the cymeks do to Zimia?

Would the people even fight and die for him?

Did he have any alternative but the surrender Venport demanded?

“The Director has shown unexpected restraint,” Haditha pointed out, without reminding him that she had advised Roderick to negotiate sooner, before they reached such an impasse. Too late for that now. “That means he wants something other than just to kill you. He knows, and we all know, he could smash into the palace and seize your throne.”

Roderick narrowed his eyes. “Is that what he really wishes? That man repeatedly claimed that he has no desire to be Emperor. So what does he want?” He realized the irony that he had never wanted to be Emperor either, but the Directeur, through his own machinations, had placed Roderick on the throne.

Haditha continued to sound calm beside him. “As a businessman, Directeur Venport’s overriding goal is to restore stability so he can build his commercial empire. He could devastate Salusa Secundus, but that would harm him as well. It would be a poor business decision, unpopular with the nobles. That is his weak spot and your advantage. Find some alternative that he will tolerate, a concession you can give. He will insist that you make some kind of gesture just to prove that he’s won. Maybe that will be enough.”

“What alternative could satisfy him without destroying me or the Imperium? Will it be enough for me to surrender publicly, and then he will withdraw? But if I surrender to him, even as just a formality, my ability to rule will be forever broken. The Landsraad nobles would see me as weak and defeated, and they will tear me to pieces. I could no longer serve as Emperor, and it would render the throne impotent for generations.” Roderick stared down at his hands, then looked into the concerned eyes of his beautiful wife.

There had to be some way to save face, to salvage the desperate situation. Roderick paced the shielded bunker. Without question, Salvador had been maddening and foolish, making so many bad decisions that Roderick spent much of his time mitigating them. Countless other advisers had whispered about the need to remove Salvador from the throne. But he was my brother.

His three children were wide eyed and frightened. He turned to his son. The twelve-year-old Crown Prince Javicco had been raised to fill his role as the next Emperor, although he was still too young to fully grasp what that meant.

Then Roderick realized that it wasn’t so much the Imperium at stake, but his rule. He was the one whom Venport needed to defeat, not the Landsraad League, not the throne itself. It was personal … because Roderick had made it that way.

Maybe only a personal solution would be acceptable.

He kept his voice low. “I can transfer the throne to Javicco to preserve the Corrino dynasty—set him up with a stable rule and let me take the fall. I may even have to sacrifice my life.”

“No!” Haditha cried out.