Navigators of Dune

Ptolemy’s ruthless determination had pushed him to the edge of madness, which could have been a cause for concern, but Draigo wondered if madness, at least a form of it, might be the only effective way to stand against the insanity of Butlerian fervor.…

The day after they returned from Salusa Secundus, he went to inspect Ptolemy’s work in the frantic push to complete the cymek army. Though Ptolemy’s preservation canister could be installed in any number of walkers, he chose a smaller articulated mobile form with multiple limbs and attachments.

This mechanical body now worked inside one of the sealed hangars, tinkering with another cymek framework. Beside Ptolemy’s artificial body, a team of human engineers also worked to strengthen the war-machine’s components, installing a high-powered cannon.

Ptolemy swiveled his sensors to face Draigo. “This one is nearly complete. Later today, I’ll present a detailed manifest of the walker forms, the weapons each one possesses, and which Navigator brains have trained on that unit. We will soon have our full force, Mentat.”

“When will we be ready to launch the attack?” Draigo asked. “The Directeur will want to know. Especially after the rout at Salusa.”

Ptolemy didn’t hesitate. “We can go now with what we have, or tomorrow, or next week—whenever the Directeur unleashes us. And I hope it is soon.”

“Soon enough. When we hear from him again.”

With a whir of attached tools, Ptolemy’s walker finished assembling a clawlike attachment and scuttled over to the Mentat. “With the data from our test mission to Lampadas, I have developed thorough plans for a complete cymek assault. I would like to submit my outline to Directeur Venport. I have the perfect plan.”

“Is any plan really perfect?” As a Mentat, Draigo could always find ways for details to go awry.

“This one is.” Ptolemy’s simulated voice invited no argument. “With more than one hundred armed cymek walkers guided by Navigator brains, we will be invincible against the primitive barbarian defenses. We shall overthrow Manford Torondo and obliterate his mindless mobs. It must be done.”

Draigo pondered. The arrival of the Butlerian warships at Salusa had altered the balance of that battle. At least that was the perception, although his Mentat projections suggested that Directeur Venport could still have won. But the Navigators had whisked all the VenHold ships away. He still didn’t know why.

“I believe we will succeed,” Draigo said. “But have you contemplated your next step after victory? What will happen after you get your revenge against Manford Torondo?”

The mechanical form remained motionless, while the electrafluid in the brain canister throbbed to show Ptolemy’s furious thoughts. “After that, I don’t care.”

For our sanity and honor, as prisoners of war we must convince ourselves that we died on the battlefield the day we were captured. That mindset liberates us to do what we need to do. If we make it back to our loved ones afterward, that is an unexpected reward.

—ADMIRAL UMBERTO HARTE, private message circulated among the hostage Imperial troops

Every time he had been summoned to the foldspace carrier’s Navigator deck, Admiral Harte had memorized the route, the various decks and access points, the security hatches and VenHold guard forces. He needed this information in order to develop a plan. And now that they had their chance to escape, he was ready.

Directeur Venport had claimed he didn’t want outright war against the Imperium, suggesting a negotiated settlement instead of conflict, but the idea offended Admiral Harte. His soldiers were infuriated at being held prisoner and treated as pawns.

Yet Harte’s fleet was not quite as neutralized as Venport thought they were. His soldiers were ready to do something about their captivity, even at great risk. They would follow their commander’s lead.

But first Harte needed to find the right moment, the right opportunity. Since being captured, he had kept looking for a chance to break free of their orbiting prison and escape from Kolhar. That was the duty of any prisoner of war, but so far he’d seen no opening.

Until now.

When Directeur Venport assembled a host of warships and set off for Salusa Secundus, leaving his headquarters planet with only a skeleton crew of defenders, Harte knew he would have no better opportunity. Guessing what Venport intended to do to the Imperial capital (and the rightful Emperor) forced Harte to take action.