Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [72]
A plump CHOAM representative said, “Navigators! Now that these drains on our resources are disappearing one by one, Guild profits should increase significantly.”
Without prompting from his master, the Mentat assistant recited, “Knowing the lifetime of that Navigator, and considering the quantities of melange required to institute his initial mutation and conversion, I have calculated the total amount of spice consumed during his service to the Guild. With fluctuating prices based on the relative glut during the Tleilaxu years and recent skyrocketing costs due to severe shortages, the Guild could have bought three full-sized Heighliners, complete with no-field capabilities, for the same cost in spice.”
The CHOAM man muttered in disgust, while Khrone remained silent. He found it most effective simply to listen and observe. Humans could be counted on to draw their own conclusions (often erroneous ones) so long as they were pointed in the proper direction.
Savoring his secrets, Khrone thought of the numerous ambassadors the Guild had sent to the front, attempting to negotiate nonaggression treaties with the thinking machines, hoping to declare themselves neutral for the survival of the Guild. But many of those emissaries had been Khrone’s Face Dancer plants, who intentionally achieved no success. Others—the human ones—never returned from the encounters.
With Richese conveniently obliterated by rebel Honored Matres (secretly guided by Khrone’s Face Dancers), humans had no choice but to turn to Ix and the Guild in order to obtain the technological items they required. The Junction shipyards had always been immense complexes for constructing huge interstellar ships.
Murbella’s defensive fleet was growing with remarkable speed, but Khrone knew that even these efforts would not be very effective against the sheer size and scope of Omnius’s military, which had been thousands of years in the making. The fabrication facilities of Ix (also controlled by Face Dancers) were still delaying the development and modification of the Obliterator weapons upon which the Sisterhood’s defense relied. And since every new Guildship was controlled by an Ixian mathematical compiler rather than a Navigator, the Mother Commander and her allies would have many surprises in store.
“We will build more ships to make up for the obsolescence of the Navigators,” Administrator Gorus promised. “Our contract with the New Sisterhood seems infinite. We have never had so much business.”
“And yet interplanetary trade is down drastically.” The CHOAM representative nodded to both Khrone and Gorus. “How is the Sisterhood to pay for these expensive ships and armaments?”
“They have met their obligations with an increased flow of melange,” Gorus said.
Khrone finally nudged the conversation where he wished it to go. “Why not accept payment in horses or petroleum or some other outdated and useless substance? If your Navigators are dying and your ships function perfectly well with Ixian mathematical compilers, the Guild no longer needs melange. What good is it to you?”
“Indeed, its value is greatly diminished. Over the past quarter century, following the destruction of Rakis, the Tleilaxu worlds, and so much more, those who could afford spice recreationally have dwindled to a tiny number.” The CHOAM representative glanced at his Mentat, who nodded in agreement. “Chapterhouse might have a monopoly on melange, but by their very iron grip, by decreasing the amount of spice available for popular consumption, they have strangled their own market. Few people really need it anymore. Now that they have learned to live without spice, will they be so keen to reacquire their addictions?”
“Probably,” Gorus said. “You need only drop the price, and we’d have a stampede of customers.”
“The witches still control Buzzell,” the Mentat pointed out. “They have other ways to pay.”
The CHOAM man disdainfully raised his eyebrows. He made very expressive noises without words. “Luxury items during