Hunters of Dune - Brian Herbert [117]
Khrone intercepted the comments before they could turn into an outright argument. He did not wish to let his carefully laid plans be sidetracked. “The Chief Fabricator is simply offering an example to make certain you understand the value of our technological development. While you gentlemen believe you have some claims to originating this work, you must also realize we could take bids from elsewhere. There will be no raising, or lowering, of the agreed-upon price.”
Sen nodded briskly. “All right, let’s not waste time with such ploys. Our price may be high, but you will pay it. No more outrageous melange expenditures, no more dependence on capricious Navigators. You are visionary businessmen, and even a child can see the immense profits that will accrue to the Guild once your ships are fitted with our”—he paused to recall the term Khrone had suggested—“mathematical compilers.” Then he turned to the CHOAM man, who had eaten all of his confections and finished his hot spice beverage. “I trust I do not need to explain this to a master merchant.”
“CHOAM has to keep up trade even during wartime. Richese is reaping huge profits by building a vast military force for the New Sisterhood.”
The Ixian Chief Fabricator gave an annoyed grunt at the reminder.
Administrator Gorus seemed very excited. “Previously, when we installed primitive navigation machines on Guildships, we still carried a Navigator aboard each vessel.” He looked apologetically at the Chief Fabricator. “We did not entirely trust your earlier machines, you see, but back then we didn’t have to. There were questions of reliability, a few too many missing ships . . . Now, however, with the New Sisterhood’s stranglehold on supplies and the proven accuracy of your . . . compilers, I see no reason not to rely on your navigation machines.”
“So long as they work as well as you’ve promised,” the Guild banker said.
When it was obvious that everyone believed in the new mathematical compilers, Khrone planted his seed of discord. “You know, of course, that this change will make Navigators obsolete. They are not likely to be pleased.”
Administrator Gorus shifted uncomfortably and glanced from the banker to his fellow Guildsmen. “Yes, we know. That is most unfortunate.”
Our motivations are as important as our goals. Use this to understand your enemy. With such knowledge, you can either defeat him or, even better, manipulate him into becoming your ally.
—BASHAR MILES TEG,
Memoirs of a Battle Commander
T
he crisis among the Navigators was so severe that Edrik sought an audience with the Oracle of Time herself.
Navigators used prescience to guide foldspace ships, not to observe human events. The Administrator faction had duped them, bypassed them. The esoteric Navigators had never considered the activities and desires of people outside the Guild to be relevant. What folly! The Spacing Guild had been caught completely off-guard by the loss of spice and the intractability of the only remaining suppliers. A quarter century had passed since the destruction of Rakis; to make matters worse, the Honored Matres had foolishly exterminated every Tleilaxu Master who knew how to produce melange from axlotl tanks.
Now, with so many groups desperate for spice, the Navigators had been forced to the brink of a treacherous cliff. Perhaps the Oracle would offer a solution that Edrik could not see. In their earlier encounter, she had hinted there might be a solution to their dilemma. He was certain, however, that it did not involve navigation machines.
Faced with such a difficult situation, Edrik commanded that his tank be delivered to the giant ages-old enclosure that held the Oracle of Time whenever she chose to manifest in this physical universe. Intimidated in her presence, Edrik had spent a great deal of time planning his argument