LOOSE ENDS HAD a way of strangling a person. When making his assassination plans, Josef Venport had considered merely leaving the spice harvester to its fate, but he needed to see with his own eyes that the worm swallowed the factory, its crew, and the Emperor’s entourage.

Taref’s news of killing Manford Torondo had been premature, much to Josef’s disappointment, and now the young Freeman had thrown the carefully orchestrated plan into chaos, but thankfully Josef had implemented an emergency backup plan. This was not the way he would have preferred to handle the situation, but it accomplished the necessary purpose anyway.

It was sad to lose the spice crew and crew chief, who had done nothing wrong. This was a high-risk profession, however, and everyone aboard the harvester had known the risks when they signed on. Even spice factories with experienced crews were lost in the desert all the time. At least these people’s sacrifice would strengthen VenHold’s future, as well as that of the melange industry itself, and therefore the economy of Arrakis — along with commerce across the Imperium.

Even more important, with Salvador Corrino gone and a more rational leader in place — someone who could stand up against the barbarians — Josef would prevent the looming dark ages that Norma Cenva had envisioned. Yes, the spice workers would understand his choice, and their sacrifice was unavoidable. He couldn’t save them.

The two spotter pilots who had been paid to report the wormsign to him would be taken to Kolhar. They would remain under tight security and close observation. An evil man would simply have killed them to eliminate the last witnesses — the more cautious course — but these pilots had served him as he’d asked, and Josef always rewarded those who performed their jobs well.

He would keep the pilots alive on Kolhar, granting them their reward (though they might not immediately consider it a reward). Eventually, they would appreciate being sealed into tanks of spice gas and transformed into new Navigators.…

He hoped he had been able to get the message to Norma Cenva quickly enough. He could never tell when she was receptive, when she would just know. But he could always count on her.

Josef guided his escape flyer, looking down at the undulating ground as the sandworm circled the spice factory. On its approach, the worm offhandedly devoured several scout rollers that tried to escape across the dunes. The jettisoned melange container had landed more than a kilometer away in an adjacent valley; he would have someone retrieve it, once the dust settled around here.

Josef was startled and annoyed when Salvador’s guard captain transmitted an urgent tight-beam message to the Imperial Barge, alerting them to the treachery. It would have been simpler to take care of the barge if the crew remained ignorant, but Josef had planned for that already. He sent a signal to orbit. “Grandmother, are you there and prepared?”

He activated a screen in his cockpit, a projection from a nearby VenHold ship in space that was tracking the Imperial vessel. Transmissions were picked up, alarms sounded. Only a skeleton crew remained aboard the barge, but they were already priming their engines and setting their mechanical navigation system to escape. Their old FTL drive would not be fast enough, and he wasn’t sure they could activate the backup Holtzman engines in time.

“I am here,” Norma said. “As are the rest of our warships.”

With a shimmering wink, twenty fully armed VenHold vessels emerged from foldspace to surround the opulent Imperial Barge, weapons activated.

The barge pilot yelped into the comm line. “We’ve been betrayed!”

“Indeed you have,” Josef muttered to himself.

Beneath him as he circled, Josef watched the whirlpool of sand. The giant worm rose up and crushed the spice factory, shearing away the metal plates. All the panicked transmissions ended abruptly. The worm circled back and struck again, then dragged the wreckage of the offending machinery under the surface.

On his cockpit screen, VenHold warships opened fire on the Imperial Barge.

But the Imperial ship, given the brief warning, had already begun its escape — and the crew proved to be unexpectedly swift in their reactions. The VenHold warships launched another volley of projectiles that blackened the barge’s hull, but the pilot activated the emergency Holtzman engines and plunged blindly into foldspace.

Norma’s voice came across the comm line. “They escaped, but they were clearly damaged.”

Frowning, Josef said with a sigh, “A plan can have many prongs. That ship won’t be going anywhere.” He hoped Taref had indeed caused sufficient damage to their navigation systems.

Below, the worm retreated underground, leaving only a churned cauldron with a few rusty smears of spice. All the evidence was gone. And soon, with storms and other weather patterns, the excavation site would look as if it had never been disturbed by man.

Chapter 75 (I only hope I have enough time)

The Sisterhood possessed layer upon layer of secrets, and Valya Harkonnen was the sole custodian of the most important secret of all. Mother Superior Valya Harkonnen.

Explaining Dorotea’s death involved meticulous choreography, and Valya attended to the details with intense focus. No mistakes. The scenario was obvious to the Sisters who ran into Mother Superior Raquella’s chamber and saw the two women dead. And Dorotea’s own Truthsayers were there to announce the veracity of Valya’s account.

The following morning, she stood alongside Sister Fielle and Sister Olivia on the grass of the commons, watching as gray smoke curled from the top of the masonry crematorium structure. Dull gray clouds overhead matched the color of the smoke. Valya shivered as a chill wind cut through her robe.

Prior to her death, Mother Superior Raquella had left instructions that she wanted no funeral for herself and no mourning. Back on Rossak, the body of any dead Sister would have been cast into the jungle, for nature to reclaim. Here on Wallach IX she had asked to be cremated without fanfare, her ashes scattered in the central commons of the school complex.

Since Dorotea, overcome with grief, guilt, and despair, had purportedly killed herself after the Mother Superior’s death, Valya seized the opportunity to suggest that they be cremated together. It was fitting, she said, since their bodies had fallen together in the end. She chose her words with great care to make the point without lying — especially in the company of the six orthodox Sisters who had come from Salusa Secundus. “It is a perfect symbol of what we agreed to do, to show that Dorotea truly and fundamentally rejoined our Sisterhood.”

Since Valya was now the Mother Superior, the other Sisters did not challenge her suggestion. She watched the smoke continue to dance out of the chimney. Both bodies were fully consumed now, along with any lingering evidence of Dorotea’s murder.

And what evidence could there be? Those last moments were locked inside Valya’s mind. “Dorotea took her own life,” she asserted, standing firm with her story. “Just before she died, Mother Superior Raquella did something to Dorotea’s mind, changed her somehow. Dorotea was distraught, overwhelmed. She took the knife in her hands and plunged it into her own throat. I saw it myself.”

The visiting Salusan Sisters were appalled and outraged at the turn of events, suspicious that Valya might have murdered her rival, possibly even the old Mother Superior, too. But three of Dorotea’s companions were also skilled Truthsayers. They had faced Valya with their veiled accusations, scrutinized her as she repeated her story. “Listen to my words.” She allowed just the right mix of anger and indignation to mingle with deep, heartfelt sadness, and added a customized edge to her powerful Voice. “Dorotea took her own life. She stabbed herself with the knife. I did not touch her.”