“It only stands to reason—” he began again, then caught himself with a dark chuckle. “Reason! The Imperium needs more of that. We can now assure a renaissance instead of cultural darkness.” He smiled with relief and optimism.
Through the swirling orange gas he saw her tiny mouth form into a barely perceptible smile. “That would be preferable … but not assured.”
He paced in front of her large tank. “I will assure it, Grandmother. Roderick Corrino understands the interconnected ties of commerce, the business of governing vast populations, the need for trade instead of superstition. He and I need to meet in private to find a mutually viable path out of the mess Salvador created.”
“The Emperor might consider you part of that mess. He did not invite you to the coronation.”
Josef frowned. It disturbed him that he had not been on the guest list for the grand coronation, but Manford Torondo had also been kept away. Perhaps the new Emperor wanted to appear neutral until he consolidated his power. Josef realized he might have pushed too hard and too quickly. He assumed Roderick would be anxious to disband the fanatical Butlerians, just as Salvador had broken up the Rossak Sisterhood.
On this trip, accompanied by Norma Cenva, he would seek to heal wounds and begin the important work of moving the Imperium forward.
She drifted in her tank as the spacefolder entered orbit and slid in among the space traffic. “The immediate future is elusive,” she said, “but I foresee great turbulence.”
His tone was dismissive. “Roderick Corrino is a man who makes well-considered decisions, and we have the same goals. Together, we will control the barbarians and defeat the Half-Manford.”
Norma’s detachable tank moved on suspensors, and she accompanied him to the VenHold shuttle. As the craft descended, Josef gazed at the lush greenery, lakes, and snow-kissed mountains below. Salusa Secundus was one of the loveliest worlds in the Imperium. Even so, he preferred industrial Kolhar, which made him think of a bright and efficient future.
Since he was the Directeur of Venport Holdings, Josef secured a prime landing spot. The moment he stepped from the craft, with Norma’s large tank floating behind him, he heard a roar of crowd noises and amplified music coming from the city. The postcoronation celebrations continued, even several days afterward.
The manicured grounds of the Imperial Palace and the associated Landsraad Hall, along with the various bureaucratic ministries and office buildings, took up more area than the rest of the capital city. Approaching the palace proper, he and Norma stopped at a security gate, where they were subjected to scanners that confirmed their identities. Moments later they were escorted into the palace by a contingent of guards, who remained with them. They were told to wait in an anteroom outside the Imperial Audience Chamber.
Following the coronation, Emperor Roderick had filled his schedule with meetings as Landsraad representatives, planetary interests, and businesses all tried to earn his favor. Josef’s appointment had been swept into that chaos, but he had enough clout, and spread enough bribes ahead of time, to secure a prominent slot in Roderick’s calendar. Yet even Directeur Venport had to wait.
When his time finally arrived, an hour overdue, Josef passed through the large central doors, his shoulders squared and chin held high. Norma accompanied him in her suspensor-borne tank, drawing wide-eyed stares and murmurs of awe. A dozen Imperial guards followed close behind them.
Josef looked up at Roderick Corrino on the green-crystal throne, with his thick blond hair and patrician features. If only that man had been born before his brother, the history of the Imperium would have taken a vastly different turn. Finally, after thirteen years of a false course and destructive distractions under Salvador’s rule, human civilization could achieve the greatness it deserved. Back on track. Populations could be free from the tyranny of extremes — both the tyranny of thinking machines and the tyranny of the Butlerians’ irrational fear. Feeling great hope now, he couldn’t keep from smiling as he stepped up to the dais.
“Emperor Roderick Corrino, I come to congratulate you and swear my allegiance. I look forward to many great goals that the Imperial throne and Venport Holdings can achieve together.” Perhaps he smiled too much.
Roderick looked awkward on the throne. His expression showed no warmth. “Salvador may yet return, Directeur. My brother’s fate is still a mystery, and our investigation continues. I have Truthsayers to assist me in finding answers.”
Josef felt the chill in the air. Did Roderick suspect him of something? Cioba had told him about the skills of the Sisterhood’s Truthsayers. He had been so careful to leave no evidence, but if a Truthsayer were to interrogate him about Salvador’s disappearance, he doubted even Norma could help him.
He responded with carefully chosen words. “We all want the truth about our beloved Emperor, Sire.” He drew a breath. “But the Imperium is far larger than any one man, and your responsibilities now extend across hundreds of worlds, and countless trillions of people who are your loyal subjects — including myself. I am here to assist you in any way you deem fit.”
From her tank, Norma’s voice resonated, startling the audience in the chamber. “The spice is essential. Operations on Arrakis must continue unhindered. Our Navigators require melange.”
Josef was glad for the distraction. “Sire, we should discuss certain spice operations on Arrakis, Imperial interactions with Combined Mercantiles. Your brother asserted a claim to the entire industry, but the implementation of such an idea is complex and, frankly, impractical. It would needlessly disrupt spice commerce across the Imperium to the many who depend on it for health and vitality. We should proceed with caution so as not to cause any unnecessary turmoil.” He bowed his head slightly in deference. “Of course, in this and in all matters, I seek your Imperial wisdom.”
Months ago, Draigo Roget had estimated the number of people addicted to melange to be in the billions, and Josef had not waited quietly while Salvador made his clumsy claims. He had already armed most of his VenHold ships, and was ready to put battleships in place around Arrakis, should it come to a direct showdown against the Imperial Armed Forces. Roderick Corrino would have his spies, but VenHold had numerous hidden resources of its own. Josef would have more than enough force to defend both Arrakis and Kolhar, but that was not the outcome he desired. He hoped the new Emperor would become his partner, rather than a hindrance.
Roderick remained silent as he pondered, then finally spoke. “Directeur Venport, the Imperium needs to prosper, but there is much more we need to accomplish. My father and grandfather helped form this Imperium after the Battle of Corrin, and now I want to ensure that we lay a stable moral and commercial foundation for future generations.” His expression softened and he already looked weary of all the problems. “With the resources and cooperation of Venport Holdings, it is possible for us to achieve that prosperity together. I believe we have a mutual vision.”
“I concur, Sire. We should focus on building rather than destroying. We must choose hope over fear. To that end, I beg you to consider strenuous efforts to control Manford Torondo and his dangerous Butlerian fanatics. On Baridge, they destroyed one of my ships, its cargo, crew, and a priceless Navigator. Here in Zimia, they killed your poor daughter and countless others, burned parts of the city. Emperor Salvador may have let them run unchecked, but you—”
The sounds of turmoil among the audience — mutters of agreement and disagreement — grew loud.
Roderick looked gray and angry. He leaned forward. “I am well aware of that, Directeur Venport. I agree that something must be done.”