Sisterhood of Dune (38 page)

As he watched, Gilbertus felt sadness at the departure, mixed with joy and pride for his most accomplished student. With the long letter of recommendation that he had written for Draigo, the young man should have no trouble finding a secure position with one of the noble families, maybe even at the Imperial Court. Considering his qualifications and ambitions, the new Mentat would undoubtedly lead an interesting life. He certainly had the potential.

Around the airfield, barge crews used cranes to drop boulders into a shallow section of the marsh lake, forming a breakwater for the expanding shuttleport. The rumble of space traffic had disturbed some of the larger marsh creatures, provoking them to ram the floating airfield and damage it. As a result, Gilbertus had ordered the landing area moved to shallow water, and further protected against attack.

Much mystery remained in the wilderness around the school; few of the creatures that lived in and around the murky waters had been studied by naturalists. Gilbertus preferred it that way, because unknown dangers required constant readiness and adaptability, and higher states of intelligence to survive. Erasmus had demonstrated repeatedly that risk-taking expanded mental capabilities.…

Returning to his private office, with the door securely locked and purple drapes drawn, Gilbertus conversed with the shimmering memory core. After such a long time, he was attuned to subtle indications of the independent robot’s moods, and the gelcircuitry sphere looked odd today, glowing a lighter hue. He interpreted it as anxiety.

“Now that the graduates have departed, you have an opportunity to create a temporary body for me,” Erasmus said. “I can assist you in any way you desire. I have already planned numerous new tests and experiments to perform, which will increase knowledge about human behavior.”

“To whose benefit?”

“Knowledge is a benefit in and of itself.”

Gilbertus knew he had run out of acceptable excuses to grant his mentor such a wish, but it remained impossible at present. “My materials are limited.”

“I am confident in your resourcefulness.”

Gilbertus sighed. “I will do what I can, but it’s difficult, and dangerous.”

“And painfully slow.”

The Headmaster leaned back in his chair, feeling troubled and sad. Despite his reservations about what the robot had done to all his human experimental subjects, he realized he was also lonely without his mentor. And in the final moments of the Battle of Corrin, when it looked as if the thinking machines would indeed defeat the Army of Humanity, Erasmus had sabotaged the robot attack to save
him
from certain death—a mere human.

Gilbertus shook his head. “Today, Draigo Roget left. We’d grown close over the years, but he didn’t want to stay.”

“I understand,” Erasmus said. “He was your favorite student, just as you were mine.”

“It was a great joy to be a mentor to him. He is the best of the new Mentats.”

“I fully understand, though I am not certain that our Mentats serve on the right side of the conflict. In a sense, we are helping to prove the Butlerian assertion that thinking machines are unnecessary.” The robot enjoyed disseminating esoteric information. “The Butlerians are like the Luddites of ancient history, parochial thinkers on Old Earth in the nineteenth century of the old calendar. They were small-minded rioters in England who blamed their financial hardships on efficient machines that had been brought into local factories. Rampaging mobs destroyed the machines, expecting that would bring about a return to prosperity. It did not work.”

The memory core glowed brighter. “I believe superstition and fear are enslaving humanity more harshly than Omnius ever did. Rather than suffering under the yoke of thinking machines, you are bullied by
un
thinking humans. Technological progress cannot be held back forever.”

“And yet, if we don’t at least pretend to serve the Butlerian purposes, they could destroy this school,” Gilbertus said. He realized that as the robot’s soliloquy grew more vehement, the core glowed pale orange, then a rich, dark copper. “What have you done to yourself?”

As if caught, the core reverted to its original golden hue, then went through an entire spectral display of colors. “I was bored in my cabinet, so I modified some of the internal programming. It is my way of staying ‘sane,’ perhaps, in my own synthesized way. Please understand, I have only a few avenues of personal growth.”

Gilbertus wondered if he should be alarmed. “I will do my best to find a suitable mobile apparatus to hold you, at least temporarily, but we must set up strict controls about where you use it, in order to keep you from being discovered.”

“Maybe I could become a hunter of the wild creatures around here. Set me loose on the land around the marsh, and I’ll occupy myself studying wild animals, using that data to augment my studies of human beings.”

“An interesting idea, but we are not ready to set you loose anywhere. For one thing, how do I know you won’t try to create a thinking-machine empire again?”

The robot simulated his laughter. “Why should I wish to create another evermind? Omnius caused me as many problems as humans did. Why do you think I taught you how to be a Mentat? It is to demonstrate that humans could be more than they had been before. The same holds true for thinking machines. We must coexist with humans in the future, a partnership of machine and man.”

Gilbertus responded, “A partnership of
man and machine,
in that order, is more appropriate—with humankind in charge.”

Erasmus remained silent for a moment. “A matter of perspective. However, don’t forget, without me, you’re nothing.”

“We must stand on each other’s shoulders,” Gilbertus said with a gentle smile.

I am not afraid to use any weapon at my disposal—and information can be the deadliest weapon of all.

—
JOSEF VENPORT
, internal VenHold memo

When Draigo Roget arrived on Kolhar, freshly graduated from his intensive and costly schooling on Lampadas, Josef Venport greeted him like a returning hero.

The nascent Mentat wore a black tunic and billowing black trousers. He emerged from the shuttle and stood blinking in midday sunlight, looking around at the spaceport towers, the spacing fleet administrative headquarters, and the blocky structures of engine-fabrication plants. Josef and a small welcoming committee sped across the landing field in a humming groundcar. As they stepped out, Draigo came forward and gave a curt bow to his benefactor. “Your plan worked perfectly, sir.”

Josef shook the man’s hand energetically, then stepped back and regarded Draigo, looking him up and down. “You’ve changed. Your entire demeanor looks much more … intense.” He meant it as a compliment.

Draigo nodded slightly. “And focused. It was a long and difficult process to become a Mentat, but you will not regret your investment.”

Josef could not stop himself from smiling. “You’re among the first of the candidates we seeded into the school, and I expect others to join us soon. VenHold requires skilled Mentats.” He planned to use them to monitor accounts in his banking operations on different planets, and the VenHold subsidiary Combined Mercantiles had vast and complex record-keeping requirements as well.

Josef had tested many young candidates for Mentat training, with Cioba conducting careful interviews on his behalf. Once the best ones were culled out, his security chief, Ekbir, crafted completely new identities and histories for the students before they traveled to Lampadas, to conceal their loyalties from any persistently curious Butlerian observers. The Mentat School was much too closely and uneasily allied with Manford Torondo and his barbarians, and Josef would not be surprised if the petulant fanatics refused his candidates access to the specialized training. So, VenHold secretly funded their tuition—and these students did not know one another, for security purposes.

“So I am among the first?” Draigo asked. “I am pleased to learn that.”

“Many more will follow you,” Josef said. “Tomorrow, Cioba and I will start familiarizing you with the new work you’ll be doing for us.”

*   *   *

THE TWO MEN
stood out on the sunlit field, where light reflected off the enclosed tanks filled with melange gas. Draigo regarded the mutating forms of the Navigator-candidates with great interest. Previously, Josef had kept this operation secret from him. “Thank you for revealing all this to me, Directeur Venport.”

Josef shrugged. “A Mentat with incomplete data is useless.”

His wife joined them, wearing a conservative dress suit, her long hair pinned up under a scarf. She and Norma Cenva had returned from their odd and unexpected journey to Rossak; Josef did not look fondly on them sharing confidential VenHold information with the Sisterhood, but both Norma and Cioba, not to mention Josef’s own daughters, were inextricably linked with those women, and he knew it would serve no purpose to force them to choose their loyalties.

Cioba followed him as they walked down the aisles to one tank he had chosen in particular. Josef peered into the curved plaz viewing port and spoke out of the side of his mouth to the dark-clad Mentat. “What you underwent was a difficult thing, Draigo, but the metamorphosis into a Navigator requires even more extreme changes. This man here, for instance, is a very interesting case—not a volunteer, actually, but a spy that we caught in the act.”

“A spy? What was he after?”

“Everything we’re doing with the Navigators … but we stopped him before he could divulge our secrets to his employer, Celestial Transport. I placed him in the chamber, intending nothing more than a poetic execution, but he’s surprising me with his adaptive abilities.” Josef rapped his knuckles on the clearplaz viewport. The sticklike figure inside twitched and turned like a marionette on invisible strings. “His name is apparently Royce Fayed, though I don’t know if he’ll remember a trivial thing like that after the transformation is complete. My great-grandmother is guiding him. I think he may survive to become a Navigator after all.”

Fayed’s face looked distorted and swollen, his eyes enlarged, his cheeks rounded, and chin melting away as if he were a wax figure exposed to too much heat. His large eyes blinked, but his mouth didn’t move. He made no attempt to say anything.

“If he was a spy, then he is your enemy.” Draigo peered through the murky clouds inside the chamber. “Logically, he cannot be trustworthy as a Navigator. Given this extreme mutation inflicted upon him, how can the man not hate Venport Holdings? If you place him aboard one of your spacefolder ships, what is to stop him from crashing the vessel with all passengers and cargo, or taking it to Celestial Transport? It would seem a large risk for you to take.”

“Norma assures us there is no risk,” Cioba said. “Now that the initial mutation has occurred and his mind is expanding, he is very eager to become a Navigator for us. He wants this very much.”

“Interesting,” Draigo said noncommittally.

Josef sounded more defensive than he intended. “If Norma Cenva tells me to trust him, how can I dispute her? She is the heart of our entire commercial empire.”

“I accept your conclusion, sir. You will need all the Navigators you can create, considering the discovery I recently made.” The new Mentat turned dryly toward him. “It is my gift to you. A very interesting projection.”

Josef raised his eyebrows. “Now you have my attention.”

“Before I completed my Mentat training, Gilbertus Albans and I studied more than a century of records, traced known flight paths and movements of thinking-machine ships. After compiling the myriad clues, we performed an extensive Mentat projection and each of us reached the same conclusion.” Draigo smiled, drawing out the suspense. “Sir, I have postulated the likely location of a very large machine shipyard, a manufacturing and refueling facility that in all probability holds a great many ships and orbiting industries. Since there is no record of this depot—if it exists—I must conclude the entire facility is almost certainly undiscovered and intact.”

Josef brightened. “And there for the taking.” He glanced at the twisted figure floating on suspensors in the gas-filled tank. “The spy mentioned that Celestial Transport has located just such a facility, but I have no idea where it is.”

“Maybe I do,” Draigo said.

All jungles are unique ecosystems, and the tropical forests of Rossak are even more so, and more important because of the biochemical resources they provide. It is in our interest to exert as much control as possible over the resources of that planet.

—Combined Mercantiles, confidential report

Raquella summoned Valya and Dorotea to her private library and office, but before she could state her business, Dorotea interrupted, clearly agitated. “Reverend Mother, I am concerned. One of the new acolytes, Sister Ingrid, has not appeared for her classes since yesterday. She is not in her quarters. No one has seen her.”

Valya tensed, but the Reverend Mother studiously avoided looking in her direction. “Your concern is admirable, Sister Dorotea. I will send out inquiries and ask the other proctors to look into the matter.” She narrowed her eyes, sat at her desk facing the two women she had summoned. “But I have eleven hundred students on Rossak, and I called you here to discuss one in particular—Anna Corrino. Because of the stakes, we must make sure she is treated properly. Sister Dorotea, you were with the Corrinos for a year. I would like to hear your assessment of the Princess.”

“But Sister Ingrid—”

“We are talking about Anna Corrino at the moment.
Your assessment, please.
” Her voice was startlingly powerful, snapping both Valya and Dorotea to attention.

Dorotea blinked, drew a quick breath. “I’m sorry, Reverend Mother.” While Valya remained seated across from Raquella, the other Sister paced the room. “Yes, I know the Corrinos well, and I know Anna’s personality. Do not pamper her. She behaves in a spoiled manner, frequently complains or uses passive resistance techniques. She has not been given responsibility, nor has she learned to understand the consequences of her actions.”