A spice transport from Arrakis landed with a meager cargo load, barely a quarter full. Josef and Cioba went to meet the laborers who unloaded the packages of melange from suspensor pallets. He smelled the rich cinnamon aroma, which reminded him of all the scattered spice mixed with blood and smoke from his raided stockpile. When he looked at the paltry manifest, his heart sank.
“We are restoring our operations in the desert, Directeur,” said the dusty captain. “Combined Mercantiles is sending out four new fully equipped harvesting teams, and we’ve put all the commandeered Imperial equipment to work. The next load will be more substantial, sir.”
Josef gave a brusque nod. “It better be. This shipment isn’t enough to fulfill a fraction of our commercial obligations, so we’re reserving all of it for the Navigators. They must be our priority right now.”
Cioba agreed. Norma Cenva had been vanishing more frequently and seemed more agitated and less comprehensible than usual. Perhaps by giving this entire shipment of melange to her Navigators, Josef could provide her with some reassurance.
He paced on the landing field, feeling frustrated. “I need this embargo to end. It disrupts commerce for everyone. How do I make Roderick Corrino listen?”
Josef’s wife still favored the garments of the Sisterhood that had trained her. Cioba stood now in black robes that clung to her in the breezes. “In order to negotiate, there must be communication. But the Emperor will not talk with you directly—especially after your siege of Salusa. Therefore, you need an intermediary.”
“And who will speak for me?”
Cioba pondered for a moment. “When Salvador banished the Sisterhood from Rossak, you gave aid to them, assisting them in setting up the new school on Wallach IX, furnishing them with transport as well as modular buildings and supplies.”
Calculations raced through his mind. “Yes, their entire order survived because of me.”
“I think it’s time for me to go to Wallach IX and remind the new Mother Superior of the debt the Sisterhood owes us. At VenHold we need whatever allies we can get.” She faced him like a soldier about to do battle. “I will speak with Mother Superior Valya. What would you ask of them?”
Josef suggested, “I want them to act as intermediaries, to talk to Roderick on our behalf. I don’t want this feud with him, and I don’t want to be Emperor! Roderick can have his damned throne, provided he becomes a suitable leader.”
“Manford Torondo will never allow the Emperor to make peace with you,” Cioba cautioned. “He has his own agenda.”
“Then we will have to get rid of him—that much is obvious.” He fumed. “In fact, it would solve most of our problems.”
While supervising the unloading of spice, Josef and Cioba were surprised when Draigo Roget approached them from a landed shuttle. “I have a report for you, Directeur,” he said. Stepping up to the dusty spice transport, the Mentat came to attention and quirked his lips in a small, uncharacteristic smile. “Fortunately, it is good news this time.”
“Statistically, there has to be good news now and then,” Cioba said.
“I just intercepted a report that EsconTran tried to keep secret. They lost one of their largest cargo transport ships due to a fatal navigational error.”
Josef couldn’t control how thrilled he was to hear this. “A true disaster, then? All hands lost? All cargo lost?”
“Everything, Directeur.”
He smiled. “Excellent. Once again emphasizing how foolhardy it is to use any transportation company other than the VenHold Spacing Fleet. The half-Manford keeps flying in his spacefolders without Navigators, claiming that God will protect him. If only that little worm would disappear in a navigation mishap.” Josef drew a deep breath of the bitter, fume-filled air.
“According to my Mentat projections, Directeur, if the Butlerian influence were removed, the Emperor would be more amenable to adjusting his position. He would owe you a tremendous debt.”
“Mentat, you don’t have to convince me that we need to eradicate the barbarians,” Josef said. “Do you have a report on the cymek plans? I gave instructions for those battle machines to be made ready as soon as possible.”
Draigo clasped his hands together behind him as the trio walked away from the spice transport. “That is my next piece of good news,” he said. “The Denali scientists have nearly finished constructing the full cymek army and training the Navigator brains to guide them—one hundred additional units, as you specified, ready for your conquest of Lampadas. We will require no more than another two weeks.”
Josef considered the news. “Considering how much havoc a mere three cymeks were able to cause, more than a hundred of them could level the planet.”
The Mentat nodded. “Ptolemy is quite eager to move against the Butlerians. He submitted a detailed military assault plan for destroying Lampadas, and we are ready to present it for your modification and approval. Very soon, we will be capable of overrunning that defenseless world.”