Navigators of Dune

61

The atomic cleansing of Kolhar had blistered the face of the planet and erased Venport’s machine contamination. As far as Manford was concerned, the nuclear blasts had forever ended the hubris of that godless man. Venport was on the run, and soon he would be completely defeated. Any VenHold remnants elsewhere in the Imperium would be hunted down and dealt with as a matter of priority.

After that was accomplished, Manford would solidify his political influence and ensure that Emperor Roderick ruled with the proper mindset. The soul of humanity would be saved, at last.

Sitting in a custom chair at the window of his office on the fourth floor, Manford’s heart swelled with joy. He had not felt such perfect satisfaction in a very long time. The spirit of Rayna Butler must be watching over him with pride, and he kept her beautiful icon painting close.

As his victorious Butlerian ships returned to Lampadas, the size of the crowds astonished even him. So many people! More than half a million souls had gathered from all across the world, and more had emigrated from other planets, just to be closer to him. Warm tears filled his eyes, and his heart pounded as if it might burst from his chest.

Beside him, Anari Idaho gazed out the window at the incredible gathering, as if vindicated that Manford had finally received his due. His look-alike double wanted to go out to be seen by the public, to “take the risk” among so many people, but Manford knew there was no real danger to his person. He sent the body double away and out of sight; the real Butlerian leader would face his followers himself.

Even after such a resounding success at Kolhar, Deacon Harian remained grim. “There will be hell to pay because of the atomics. The Emperor will not ignore it, and people will hate what you have done.”

“Some have always hated what I do, but I do what is necessary anyway.”

Anari added, “The battle for the human soul is not an easy one. We will silence those who complain too loudly.”

Manford left unsaid: Even Emperor Roderick.

Now, when he looked out the high window at the throngs crowded across Empok, their faces uplifted in a delirious hope of glimpsing him, he knew that every one of them would forfeit their lives in service to his goals — Rayna Butler’s goals. By carrying her eternal message, he possessed a weapon far more powerful than atomics.

Uniformed men stood around the Butlerian headquarters. So many pilgrims had arrived in recent weeks that guards had to drive the supplicants away, sometimes using brutal measures. New converts and avid recruits flocked to Lampadas, filling the city to capacity, straining its resources. Manford had returned from the cleansing of Kolhar with tens of thousands of additional followers who had joined him at Salusa Secundus.

Beside him at the window, Anari stared across an endless sea of faces. “You can feel the waves of their devotion, Manford. They want you to lead them to more victories. They want you to save them.”

“I will save them, in whatever way I can. Our numbers swell with every triumph.”

His clashes with Venport had been an extremely effective recruiting tool. The ultimate victory of the Butlerian movement was all but ensured now, but Manford secretly wondered what he would do after he won this struggle for the soul of humanity. Alas, the war would never be completely won, for humans would always be weak and unreliable, and their doubts would open them to new dangers against which Manford would have to protect them.

Anari continued to stare. “Of all your followers on planets across the Imperium, you know that I am the most devoted.” She turned to him with those wide, guileless eyes that seemed to open straight to her faithful heart.

“I’ve never harbored any doubts of that, Anari.” He wondered why she felt any need to remind him of her dedication. “No one else comes close.”

Deacon Harian bustled back in with sweat glistening on his bald pate. “Security informs me the crowd is getting restless. They clamor to see you. They need to see you.”

“Then I shall give them what they require. I’ll both inspire and calm them.” He did not reveal his concerns, though. These people were angry and ready to do something, anything. After Kolhar, their emotions burned like a wildfire that could slip out of his control. He needed to direct the explosion away from himself, somehow.

He remembered what had happened during the rampage festival in Zimia. The death of little Nantha Corrino had damaged the trusting relationship he should have had with the Emperor; no memorial statue, however large, would make up for it. The victory at Kolhar would not last these Butlerians for long. They needed to be unleashed elsewhere.

Anari fitted the saddle-harness onto her shoulders and lifted him without the necessity of asking permission, then settled him into place. She looked up at him. “Are you ready to receive their applause, Manford?”

“Yes. It is what they need.”

The Butlerian security troops cleared a path, and announcements rippled across the city. With Deacon Harian beside them, Anari strode out of the headquarters into the sunlight and the roar of the adoring crowd.

Earlier, Manford had reconsidered bringing out his stand-in for at least the beginning of the event. The designated body double looked very much like him, a man so devoted that he’d voluntarily let his legs be amputated so he could serve the Butlerian cause. The duplicate was his public face in dangerous situations.

But today Manford knew that his followers would have noticed the subtle difference in his appearance and voice. They needed him in person. That other legless man, the backup, could be used under lesser circumstances, where he was only seen from a distance or inside a carriage, but not here. Today, on this momentous occasion, no cheap substitute would do.

A thunderous wave of cheers buffeted him on Anari’s shoulders. Manford raised his hands, and the thunder grew even louder.

For a moment, unwanted thoughts about Erasmus and his forbidden journals slid insidiously into his mind, intrusive images of the diabolical thinking machine that had enslaved and tortured so many humans. Erasmus had loved to stand before throngs of oppressed captives. But Manford knew those downtrodden people had never cheered the evil machine like this. Erasmus had never been beloved; he had simply been feared.

He remembered what the robot had written. “Humans are a resource, a tool, a weapon — but only if used properly. I continue to study methods of manipulating their emotions, their biological programming. At best they are flawed tools and weak weapons. But there are so many of them.”

There are so many of them.

Manford smiled at the crowd of admirers. He spotted Headmaster Zendur and scores of new, approved students from the reformed Mentat School. The rest of these followers came from other worlds, pilgrims who journeyed to Lampadas to prove their devotion for him. This planet could not support them for long. They would have to be unleashed elsewhere, and soon.

“My friends and followers,” he said, “you gladden my soul. You make me certain that we will win the final battle.”

The tumult of cheers died to a surprisingly quiet murmur. His voice was broadcast on speakers across the city. It was abhorrent advanced technology, he knew, but necessary, and Manford had given a special dispensation to the Committee of Orthodoxy, asserting that such communications systems were vital to the Butlerian movement and therefore approved.

“I am here to announce an important victory on Kolhar, where our forces dealt a fatal blow to Josef Venport and his enclave of machine lovers.” The rest of his words were drowned out in another tidal wave of sound.

He would not mention the atomics for now.

From his shirt he removed the small painted icon that he kept with him at all times: Rayna surrounded by an angelic aura. His gaze lingered on it. “Rayna Butler would be proud of what we’ve accomplished, but our great struggle is not yet over. I need you more than ever, all of you. Even though we have crushed the stronghold of our greatest enemy, we must make certain Emperor Roderick guides humanity on the proper path. And I am the one to show him.”

More cheers, which lasted several minutes, during which time Manford could not talk, and could barely think. Though Anari stood as still as a statue, he felt her grow tense beneath him.

Finally the crowd quieted enough for him to continue, “Some of you may be required to become martyrs — and that is a glorious privilege.” Manford quoted an ancient rebel. “‘The tree of liberty must be fertilized with the blood of martyrs.’ Before going back to the Emperor, we will seize what remains of Venport Holdings, the ships in his Spacing Fleet, the monstrous Navigators. We will put an end to all known VenHold operations. Only then will we go to Salusa and make the Emperor see what we have accomplished. He dare not oppose us.” Manford smiled at them, and the roaring of their voices went on and on.

Anari had not heard this plan before. In a voice only for him, she said, “It will be a slaughter if the Emperor does not clear the way for us to enter the capital peacefully. A slaughter on both sides.”

Manford nodded, knowing that even a slaughter would be to his advantage. “The more of us who die gloriously, the more recruits we will gain.”