Dune: The Machine Crusade (83 page)

“Everything is dangerous, but the noble Cogitors gave up the burden of fear long ago, when they gave up their bodies.”

Omnius boomed at the visitors, “Your answer is insufficient. After so much time, why do you come to me now?”

The yellow-robed secondaries looked at each other, but waited for the Cogitor Vidad to speak through his voice synthesizer. “On one front the Titans have an army of neo-cymeks to oppose you, and they have already destroyed many of your update ships. On another, the free humans continue to launch powerful assaults against you. You have already lost several Synchronized Worlds. Logically, Omnius, it is in your interest to reach a settlement with the humans, so that you can focus on the cymek challenge. The tide is turning against you.”

“My ultimate victory is assured. It is only a matter of time, and effort.”

“For efficiency’s sake, is it not advisable to minimize your expenditure of time, effort, and resources? As Cogitors, we can act as impartial mediators to obtain a rational, equitable resolution to this conflict. We believe a beneficial settlement can be arranged.”

“Beneficial to whom?” Erasmus asked.

“To the Synchronized Worlds and to the League Worlds.”

“You cannot convince the humans to align themselves with us against the cymeks.” Omnius asked. “Agamemnon intends to conquer us both.”

“It is not our purpose to broker war, only peace.”

“I am quite familiar with Serena Butler,” Erasmus said. “She is unrealistically concerned about our human slaves, even though League Worlds keep their own slaves. Such hypocrisy!”

The secondaries nodded, looking at each other, and Vidad said, “Many slaves are being killed by violence on both sides of the Jihad. We do not have an accurate tally of the innocent human casualties on Ix, IV Anbus, and Bela Tegeuse, but we assume it is a large number.”

“On an orderly Synchronized World, where society is not a clumsy, inefficient affair, there are few slave fatalities,” Omnius pointed out. “I can verify this with comprehensive statistics.”

Erasmus said, “Thus we could make the argument that more human lives would be saved if a cease-fire settlement is reached. We need to show the humans that the cost of their Jihad is too high for them. Serena Butler will understand that.”

“The simplest solution is an immediate cessation of all hostilities between you and the League of Nobles,” Vidad said to Omnius. “You keep your Synchronized Worlds, and the free humans keep their League Worlds. In exchange, the mutual aggression ends. There will be no further deaths, no further violence between machine and man.”

“For how long?”

“In perpetuity.”

“I accept your suggestion,” Omnius said from the wallscreen. “But you must send a League representative to formally accept the terms. Do not return if the League refuses.”

S
itting beneath the dome of the Jihad Council chambers, Aurelius Venport sipped an iced drink, careful to maintain his falsely confident expression, without Zufa. Facing him were Grand Patriarch Iblis Ginjo and his brooding Jipol commandant Yorek Thurr, as well as Serena Butler, never wavering in her intensity. Venport’s tailored suit was cool enough to prevent any damning nervous perspiration from showing.

Venport set out to complete the most important negotiations of his career.

“I am pleased that we can all sit down and discuss our mutual needs like adults,” he began after taking another sip. He needed to deal with the loss of his swift merchant fleet as a businessman. The situation had changed, and he had to make the best of it. He would not be able to keep all the profits and power he had anticipated, so he had to parlay what remained into something different. Perhaps even something better.

He had engaged in similar negotiations with Lord Bludd over the merchandizing rights to glowglobes, and had done well. This promised to be far more significant, with enormous repercussions.

“You have proposed that my new space-folding commercial haulers be converted into fighting ships for the Army of the Jihad and that new foldspace engines be adapted to the medium-sized javelin warships. Your earnest but somewhat… naïve military officers are of the opinion that I should happily liquidate all of my assets, surrender proprietary technology, ignore a decade of unceasing work and investment, and simply turn over every vessel in my expensive fleet for no compensation. Apparently, I am to be paid in… pride?”

Serena frowned, tapped her fingertips together. “Even if you were to receive nothing, some of us have given more for the cause.”

“No one means to diminish your own sacrifices, Serena,” Ginjo said. “But perhaps we don’t have to ruin the man in order to achieve what we need.”

Unswayed, Serena asked, “Are you a war profiteer, Directeur Venport?”

“Certainly not!”

Thurr frowned, stroking one side of his mustache as he said in a quiet voice. “On the other hand, let us not be so credulous as to believe that the military applications of these space-folding ships never once entered Directeur Venport’s mind. Yet he did not bother to inform the Jihad Council of his activities on Kolhar.”

Venport bristled at the shadowy Jipol commander. “The spacefolders are new and still dangerous, sir. We lose a troublesome percentage of our flights. The frequent disasters force me to tack substantial surcharges onto cargo prices, just so I can rebuild the ships I lose and provide recompense for the families of the mercenary pilots who take such outrageous risks.”

Thurr folded his hands together. “The rebellious cymeks, as well as Omnius, would love to take over that facility and steal the technology for themselves.”

“I poured the majority of VenKee’s equity into the program for years, and I am entitled to benefit in some manner from the new technology. I would never have paid for the research and development unless I thought it had some value for us. Even with smooth and profitable years, it will take me decades to pay off the debt I incurred to build the shipyards. Do you believe that any businessman in the League would invest all his assets to develop important technology if he knew there was a chance that the government might take everything, leaving him bankrupt?”

Serena gestured impatiently with a forefinger. “I can eradicate your debt. Erase it completely.”

Venport stared at her, unable to believe the suggestion. Such a sweeping concession had never occurred to him. “You can… you can do that?”

Iblis Ginjo sat straight, puffed up like a bird practicing its mating display. “She is the Priestess of the Jihad, Directeur. She can do it with a stroke of a pen.”

Pressing his advantage immediately, Venport began reciting the discussion points he had developed during the voyage to Salusa. “My wife Norma Cenva has devoted more than thirty years to developing the spacefolding technology. She faced many adversities, including horrific torture after being captured by cymeks, but her vision of mankind’s future has never wavered. She even killed the Titan Xerxes. And all along, I am the only one who supported her, the only one who believed in her. Even Savant Holtzman cast her off.”

Looking around the table in the Council chamber, he noted that several of the members seemed impatient for him to come to his point. Venport leaned forward. “Therefore I request that VenKee Enterprises and its successors be granted irrevocable patents on the technology specific to folding space.”

“A monopoly on space travel,” Yorek Thurr grumbled.

“I am asking for proprietary treatment for
my
form of space travel, using
my
engines, in
my
ships. For millennia, human beings have crossed vast distances by traditional means. They are welcome to use the same vessels they have always taken— I want special consideration only for my spacefolders, which were developed by my wife and funded by my company. That seems a reasonable request.”

Ginjo tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “Let us not delude ourselves. If the safety considerations are ever worked out, this will become the preferred method of travel between star systems, making every other technology obsolete.”

“If it is the fastest, most reliable means of travel, why should my company not benefit?” Venport crossed his arms over his chest.

But Serena had heard enough of the argument. “We are wasting time. He can have his irrevocable patents and his monopoly— but only
after
the Jihad is over.”

“How can I be sure it will ever be over?”

“That is a risk you will have to take.”

From the expression on her face, Venport saw he could not press the issue one centimeter further. “Done, but the rights pass on to my heirs if I die before the conclusion of the Jihad.”

Serena nodded. “Iblis, see that the necessary documents are drawn up.”

In the end, the astute Aurelius Venport also negotiated the right to bring at least a partial cargo load of his merchandise on selected military missions. Though he had not initiated these talks, nor precipitated the commercial crisis that required them, when he was finished Aurelius Venport began to suspect that they could make him a very, very wealthy man.

HE RECEIVED THE award almost as an afterthought.

Banners hung in the Hall of Parliament, and ordinary citizens were allowed to stand at the rear, overlooking the planetary representatives. Thousands of people gathered in the memorial plaza outside, watching the proceedings on screens as tall as buildings.

Zufa Cenva sat beside Venport in a front row of seats that spread toward the higher tiers like the expanding ripples of a pond. Her pale hair and features made her look like static electricity incarnate, and she seemed to radiate with a presence that marked her as the most powerful Sorceress of all the talented practitioners from Rossak.

She glanced down at him, making him dizzy with the gaze of her pale eyes. “You are a great hero now, Aurelius. Your name is on the lips of every jihadi fighting for the cause of freedom. That is worth much to history.”

Gazing across the speaking stage at the impressively dressed dignitaries, he said, “I never lived my life worrying overmuch about history, Zufa. I am pleased enough about how this will change my daily situation.” He straightened his ruffled collar and his overly formal ultrasuit. “You and Norma were right. I was being shortsighted and selfish. Devoting the lion’s share of our resources to military instead of commercial applications will be a setback— but ultimately VenKee Enterprises will grow stronger because of it.”

She nodded. “There is always a price for patriotism, Aurelius. You are just beginning to understand that.”

“So I am.” In fact, initially he had thought that receiving this medal was a mere consolation prize, a bauble to make him feel better about his sacrifices. He hadn’t realized it would increase his stature in the eyes of the people. In the future, few people would choose one of his competitors over VenKee for any item of merchandise.

He found himself unexpectedly eager to return to the shipyards to begin implementing the new state of affairs, while making a full assessment of materials and products so that he could readily arrange for the most profitable cargo to be carried on military missions in the space-folding ships. His products would fly on a standby basis, depending upon available space. Yorek Thurr, pulling strings from the Jipol, had already arranged for Aurelius and Zufa to take a small space yacht back to Kolhar. They would depart almost immediately after the awards ceremony.

He sat stiffly through the opening agenda and introductions. Presently, Grand Patriarch Iblis Ginjo made appropriate invocations in his impressively resonant voice, followed by Serena Butler. She stood at the speaking podium in her signature purple-trimmed white robes, a dazzling presence. Her hair had gone partially gray, as if lightly dusted with ash, and her face showed the weight of years and tragedies. But her voice was strong as she summoned Venport to the stage, along with the famed young battlefield surgeon Rajid Suk.

To resounding applause, Venport walked to the podium. Surprisingly, Zufa Cenva showed considerable pride in him, and he wished only that Norma might have been there. For once in her life, Norma deserved the recognition and accolades, whether she wanted them or not.

The lights excited him and blurred his vision, and he felt as if he were about to be swept away on a tidal wave of applause. Venport blinked, steadied himself. He avoided looking out into the sea of faces surrounding the central platform, and moved into position beside Doctor Suk.

Serena said, “Each of you will receive the highest medal of commendation the Jihad can bestow. The Manion Cross is named after my baby, the first martyr of our holy war against the thinking machines. Very few have received it.”

Turning to the other recipient, she said, “Doctor Rajid Suk is our greatest battlefield surgeon. Giving up his private practice, he has repeatedly accompanied our battle fleets, journeying to distant war zones and donating his time to our sacred mission, helping to save countless jihadis.” Suk stood with his shoulders squared and his chest thrust forward. The onlookers cheered as she presented him with his medal.

“Next, I introduce to you our most astounding entrepreneur, a man who has fought the wars of interstellar commerce and created a supply and delivery network that spans star systems. Directeur Aurelius Venport has just turned over his entire shipyard operation to the Army of the Jihad. At long last, I believe we have the opportunity to crush Omnius for all time.” She was careful not to state any specifics about the space-folding technology; Jipol had proved time and again that machine spies could be everywhere.

The audience cheered wildly, accepting her assertions without question. Venport, however, doubted that such a significant military strike could occur anytime soon, not even with the best efforts of Kolhar and massive funding. The Holtzman ships were simply too new and unproven.

Nevertheless, Venport bowed formally as the Priestess draped the shimmering ribbon and gaudy medal over his neck.