Hunters of Dune - Brian Herbert [73]
Inside the immense hall, the air was filled with the hissing of production lines, vaporous plumes of cold baths, and the acrid fluids of imprinting chemicals. Others might have found the clamor of sights, sounds, and smells distracting, but the Ixians considered it soothing white noise.
Edrik the Navigator’s armored tank drifted on suspensors, flanked by four gray-clad escorts. Khrone knew that the Navigator would be the greatest problem here, for his faction had the most to lose. But the mutated creature did not take charge of the negotiations. That task was left to the sharp-eyed Guild spokesman, Rentel Gorus, who stepped forward on willowy legs. His long white braid hung ropelike from his otherwise bald scalp. The visitors covered themselves with a veneer of importance and entitlement, which revealed a great deal about the extent of their anxiety. True confidence was quiet and invisible.
“The Spacing Guild has needs,” said Administrator Gorus, sweeping the room with his milky but not-blind eyes. “If Ix can fulfill them, we are willing to pay any reasonable price. Find us a way out of the manacles the New Sisterhood has placed on us.”
Shayama Sen folded his hands together and smiled. “And what is it you need?” The nails on his two forefingers were metallic and patterned with the kaleidoscopic lines of circuitry.
Edrik swam close to the speaker in his thick-walled tank. “The Guild needs spice so that we may guide our ships. Can Ix’s machinery create melange? I see no point in coming here.”
Gorus gave the Navigator a glare of pure annoyance. “I am not so skeptical. The Spacing Guild wonders if Ixian technology could be used regularly and reliably for navigation—at least during this difficult transition period. Since the time of the God Emperor, Ix has produced certain calculating machines that can take the place of Navigators.”
“Only in part. The machines have always been inferior,” Edrik said. “Poor copies of a real Navigator.”
“Nevertheless, they proved useful in times of great need,” Shayama Sen pointed out. “During the various waves of Scatterings, many ships used the primitive devices to travel without the benefit of spice or Navigators.”
“And a vast number of those ships were lost,” Edrik interrupted. “We will never know how many blundered through suns or dense nebulae. We will never know how many were simply . . . lost, arriving in unknown star systems and unidentified worlds, never able to find their way back.”
“Recently, when melange was plentiful—thanks to Tleilaxu tankmanufactured spice—the Guild had no qualms about relying solely on our Navigators,” Administrator Gorus said, sounding quite reasonable. “Now, however, times have changed. If we can prove to the New Sisterhood that we don’t rely entirely on them, then their monopoly has no teeth. Then, perhaps, they will not be so haughty and intractable, and they will be more willing to sell us spice.”
“That remains to be proved,” grumbled the Navigator.
“Navigation devices have remained in use among certain parties,” Shayama Sen added. “When the Honored Matres began to return from the outside fringes, they did not have Navigators. Only when they needed to know the full landscape of the Old Empire did they rely upon the services of the Guild.”
“And you cooperated with them,” Khrone said, using his words like a needle. “Is that not why the Sisterhood is displeased with you?”
“The witches also used their own ships, bypassing the Guild,” Gorus said, in a huff. “Until recently, they did not trust even us with the coordinates of Chapterhouse, fearing we would have sold the location to the Honored Matres.”
“And would you have?” Sen seemed amused. “Yes, I think so.”
“This has nothing to do with the discussion of navigation machines.” The Guild Administrator abruptly cut off further discussion.
The Chief Fabricator smiled and tapped his fingernails together, unleashing a flurry of sparks along the circuit paths like tiny phosphorescent rats scurrying through a maze.