Navigators of Dune

“Maybe I don’t have to die. In any event, I don’t mind being the scapegoat, as long as the Directeur raises no impediments to Javicco’s reign, and so long as the Landsraad League fully supports our son.” He stared hard at Haditha. “I can offer that as an alternative to Venport. He will see that it would be a far easier transition than asking the Imperium to accept a usurper. Unless he wants years of civil war in the Landsraad, he will see that it’s a viable option. A good business decision. He’ll have gotten rid of me, and that’s what he wants.”

On the comm, Directeur Venport was transmitting again, demanding the Emperor’s response. Roderick focused on his own decision, ignoring what he was hearing.

Javicco stared, confused and overwhelmed by the suggestion, but Roderick knew he had to do this. Before Haditha could argue, he raised his hand. “Commander Aliki, open a comm channel and tell Directeur Venport that I will present myself to him to discuss the matter.”

Aliki was appalled. “Don’t do that, Sire! He will kill you, just as he assassinated your brother.”

“He had Salvador killed for entirely different reasons. I have to hope that he is more interested in stability than in revenge.” Roderick squeezed his son’s shoulder. “For my family’s sake.”

Haditha did not like the option. “If Javicco takes the throne, Venport will insist on appointing his own regent to oversee him. Our son will be no more than a puppet.”

“But a Corrino would still hold the throne. He’d be alive—and you and I might be as well.” He hardened his voice. “We still have many allies in the Landsraad. A throne that is overthrown once can be overthrown again. It can be retaken.”

As Aliki grudgingly followed orders, Roderick drew a breath, as if this could inject clarity into his decision. He composed himself and reached forward to activate the comm response. No sense in delaying longer.

Before he could speak, though, his sensor technicians shouted, peering closer at their screens. The staff generals rushed forward to inspect the broader view of the Salusan system. Screens suddenly displayed a flurry of new blips arriving in space.

Aliki couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Sire, more than a hundred large warships just appeared out of foldspace! They seem to be old-model spacefolders, but they are fully equipped battleships.”

Roderick felt as if his breath had been snatched away. “Venport’s reinforcements? Does he wish to grind his boot-heel down even harder?”

A transmission came across all channels, bold and loud. “Emperor Roderick, it appears you need assistance.”

The face of Manford Torondo, a man as reviled as Josef Venport, appeared on the screen. “I brought my loyal Butlerian forces to join you in an alliance for humanity’s future. ‘The mind of man is holy.’ I pledge all these ships against the demon Venport and his machine-loving army.” He smiled. “We are ready to fight beside you.”

Enemies and allies are like planets whirling in a complex solar system. Sometimes they align, sometimes their orbits intersect … and sometimes they collide, with devastating consequences.

—NORMA CENVA, recorded conversations, subcategory: Spacing Guild

On the Navigator deck of his flagship, Josef felt the tension build as the standoff continued. Why did Roderick refuse to respond? What was he waiting for? The Imperial defenders over Salusa were afraid to open fire, because they knew they would be destroyed by retaliatory strikes. The giant cymeks under Josef’s control stood on the outskirts of Zimia, ready to be unleashed. It was only a matter of time.

He didn’t want to devastate the capital city: the people would hate him, and there would be disastrous financial consequences, as well as historical ignominy for Josef. But the Emperor was taking his damned time even acknowledging his defeat! If Roderick backed down, restored VenHold finances, and erased the charges against Josef, this could all be over.

Josef transmitted with an edge to his voice, “There’s no need for us to be on opposing sides, Roderick Corrino. If you are the man I believe you are, then you’ll want to do what’s best for all of humanity. We must discuss terms.”

Before the cowering Emperor could answer, though, alarms blared on the Navigator deck as another fleet appeared out of nowhere. Josef’s subcommanders responded with confusion, and he ran to the nearest screen to see a group of spacefolder warships—nearly 140. He blinked, unable to process all the signal blips on the tactical projections. “Where did they come from? Who are they?”

“Antique models, Directeur,” Draigo transmitted after only an instant of assessment. “They date back to the Army of the Jihad.”