Dune: The Machine Crusade (21 page)

The trainees seemed intimidated and awed, as they stood back and watched her. Zufa smiled at them. “That is good. Now let us go through it again.”

W
hen Norma Cenva’s enthusiastic letter finally reached him Aurelius Venport wasted no time in diverting one of his merchant ships for a special run to Poritrin. Despite the fact that his position as Directeur of VenKee Enterprises placed many demands on his time, he wanted nothing more than to see his dear friend Norma again. He’d always had a soft spot in his heart for her, and it had been years… too many years.

Open and genuine, Norma was able to see Venport differently from the way other people saw him, without his politics, connections, or wealth. Invariably, they wanted something from VenKee Enterprises, seeking to gain some personal advantage. In contrast, the small-statured, plain-looking daughter of Zufa Cenva had always offered him true
friendship,
a commodity sorely lacking in the merchant’s life.

Besides, he was weary of the tedious legal actions that Lord Bludd kept filing against VenKee, demanding his glowglobe-derived profits, trying to freeze his corporate assets. It was all so ridiculous, but still the Poritrin noble might prevail legally. Continuing to fight the matter through the courts could be a serious drain on VenKee resources, so Venport had requested a meeting with Lord Bludd here in Starda and planned to negotiate a compromise.

But first, he wanted to see Norma.

At one time, when she had been Tio Holtzman’s golden child, she’d had her own spacious laboratories and workrooms inside the Savant’s blufftop estate. But he had worked her relentlessly, siphoning off her ideas and discoveries; then, when poor Norma strayed into such esoteric research that she no longer produced breakthroughs with sufficient frequency, Holtzman had relegated her to inferior quarters, by the mudflats of the Isana River.

Even after a quarter century on Poritrin, she was still a “visiting scientist” whose papers could be revoked at any time. Why did Holtzman keep her on? Probably to claim legal credit for anything she developed while working under his auspices.

Across the delta, factories and giant shipyards were launching the last components of the huge new fleet being assembled in orbit over Poritrin. The air smelled of smoke and metal, resounding with a din that must have made it impossible for her to concentrate. He wondered how she got anything done here.

Venport stood at the doorway to Norma’s quarters and workspace overlooking the odorous mudflats, taking in all the subtle details of how far she had fallen, things she had probably never noticed. He shook his head, sickened and angry at how Holtzman was treating the sweet girl.
Girl?
He shook his head at the realization. By now, Norma was over forty years old.

Standing under the humid sunlight, he pressed the door signal. In accordance with Poritrin tradition, he expected a Buddislamic slave to answer, then remembered that Norma held a dim view of enforced labor.

Her last letter had been ecstatic about a new concept she had developed after years of effort and blind-ends. He smiled fondly, thinking of her intelligent exuberance. Engrossed in her idea and her proposal, Norma had let her scrawling penmanship degenerate even worse than usual, as if her thoughts were racing far ahead of her hand.

Venport had skipped over the mathematics and engineering derivations that demonstrated how to modify the Holtzman effect so that it distorted space itself. He had no doubt that her concepts were correct, but as a merchant he was more interested in the commercial applications and in beating out his business competitors, rather than in the details of a product’s functionality. Norma was always brilliant, but rarely practical.

For a long moment no one came to the door, so he signaled again. Venport understood that Norma must be deep in concentration, drifting in her own world of equations and symbols. He felt guilty for interrupting, but decided to wait for her as long as necessary.

She wouldn’t be expecting him, though public shipping records had announced the arrival of a VenKee ship. Business obligations had delayed him for an extra month on Salusa, and space travel was so tediously slow….

Acting on the strength of her enthusiasm in the letter, he had also called his business partner in the melange operations, Tuk Keedair, to join them on Poritrin. The former flesh-merchant had matters to handle in Starda anyway, so Venport would be able to obtain a second opinion… if he wanted it.

But first Venport needed to look into Norma’s eyes as she talked about her space-folding concept. Then his instincts would tell him all he had to know. He looked forward to the expression of delight and surprise on her face.

He was not at all disappointed. When she finally stood at the door, blinking in the sunlight, she stared up at him— and his heart felt light with joy. “Norma!” He embraced her before she recognized him, and soon she was laughing and leaping up to throw her arms around his neck.

The tiny woman’s mouse-brown hair was an uncared for mop, but her eyes sparkled with surprise. She looked older, as did he, although frequent use of melange had dramatically slowed Venport’s own aging process.

“Aurelius, you got my letter. You came.”

Though she had changed, Venport remembered all the times the two of them had gone into the jungles on Rossak to explore the silvery-purple foliage. She had rambled on about her ideas, sharing them with him, and he had pulled strings to have her mathematical treatises published and distributed. When Holtzman invited her to become his research partner, Venport had paid for Norma’s passage. Zufa Cenva always claimed that they got along so well together because “misfits enjoy the company of their own.”

Now, smiling, he rubbed her hair teasingly. “I’m anxious to hear about your exciting new discovery. I also need to take care of this glowglobe dispute with Lord Bludd.”

She led him into her ramshackle work building, and he followed with some trepidation. The large room was as messy as he had expected, filled with numerous complex projects. One alcove contained a small table surrounded by floating suspensor chairs that rested at odd angles. Dirty dishes, plans, and calculation sheets covered the table surface, and she began to clear away the debris so that Venport would have a place. Dutiful as a friend and guest, he helped her.

Finding a pile of legal documents with his name mentioned in the text of a threatened complaint, his pulse quickened. They were addressed to Norma from an advocate representing Lord Bludd and Tio Holtzman. “Norma, what are these papers?”

“I don’t know,” she said absentmindedly. Then, looking closer, she said, “Oh.
Those
. Nothing of importance.”

“These were served on you almost a year ago. They threatened you with legal action if you left Holtzman’s employ, especially if you went to work directly for me.”

“Yes, yes, I suppose. I’ve been too busy to deal with that. My project goes beyond any legal concerns.”

“Norma, dear naïve Norma, no project goes beyond legal concerns in the real world.” His face reddened. “You shouldn’t have let this matter slide for so long. Let me take care of it for you.” He tucked the papers under his arm.

“Oh yes, thank you.”

Venport cared about Norma a great deal, like a big brother, maybe even more. Her small stature and physical failings did not trouble him in the least. He had, after all, spent many years with the utter visual perfection of her statuesque mother, but ultimately he had found Zufa relentlessly judgmental and demanding— of him, of herself, and of everyone around her. For her part, Norma had many more positive attributes than she lacked. Her mind was the most attractive thing about her, as well as her pleasant, accommodating disposition.

Venport looked around, noting the old facility, the cheap equipment, the cramped spaces. It was an insult to the woman who had developed so many of the Savant’s most famous inventions. The lighting was poor, the furniture old, the shelves overflowing. He would find her something better, and soon. “Norma, I know you don’t like to use slaves, but I am going to have to see about obtaining a housekeeper for you.”

“I am content, as long as I can work.”

Privately, he asked himself how much he owed Norma, and how much he believed in her. Closing his eyes, he “listened” to his body, his heart, his visceral sensations. The answer was obvious.

I need to help her.
Whether or not her new space-folding concept had commercial potential, he promised himself he would free her from the clutches of the egotistical scientist… even if it cost him dearly.

IT TOOK AURELIUS Venport little time to discover that he despised both Lord Niko Bludd and Tio Holtzman.

In his decades of finding, developing, and shipping pharmaceuticals from Rossak— a business he had built into a large commercial empire— Venport had faced off against tough negotiators, unsavory suppliers, even governmental thugs. He bore no resentment toward legitimate rivals: He could understand them and reach accommodations with them.

But he also had a reliable gut instinct when dealing with people, and as soon as he came close to Bludd and Holtzman, his skin began to crawl. The Savant was an obvious fraud who had built up his reputation by stepping on the backs of others. Lord Bludd reveled in riches, not as a means to build his legacy or to earn a place in history— he simply accrued luxurious wealth for its own sake.

Nevertheless, Venport needed to reach an agreement with these men.

As he approached a long table inside a room full of mirrors and faceted glowglobes— unauthorized reproductions, he noted— Venport thought this meeting chamber looked more like a banquet hall than a boardroom for conducting business. At the head of the table, plump Lord Bludd sat engulfed in plush robes with billowing sleeves, a costume that could not possibly have been comfortable. His long hair was styled into precious ringlets. The curls of his beard had been sprayed to freeze them in place like a sculpture made of wiry hair.

Savant Holtzman sported stiff and formal white robes, but seemed more comfortable in them than in the utilitarian laboratory smock a real scientist might wear. Other chairs were occupied by counsel representatives and attorneys for Poritrin, all of whom looked stern and hawkish.

Entering the room alone, Venport studied the professionals that Poritrin had arrayed against him, and sighed heavily as he sat down. “Lord Bludd, Savant Holtzman, I have come by myself concerning a matter of interest to both of you. I wish to candidly discuss possible solutions to our dispute.” He scowled at all of the attorneys. “If you would do me the courtesy of dismissing these extra ears, we can sit down like men and reach an accord.”

The indignant attorneys sat up quickly, as if spring-loaded. Savant Holtzman seemed confused, but said nothing. Lord Bludd was defensive. “These are my chosen experts, Directeur Venport. I rely heavily on their—”

“Then you may have them vet any agreement we propose.
Later
. But if you insist on conducting this through formal channels, we all know the matter will drag on for years and years at great expense.” He smiled disarmingly. “Wouldn’t you rather hear what I have to say first?” Venport crossed his arms and waited, making it clear that he intended to engage in no negotiations until the legal armada departed.

The nobleman glanced at his advisors, who uttered a chorus of, “My Lord, we strongly advise against…” “This is most irregular and suspicious…” “What is he trying to hide that he doesn’t want…”

Lord Bludd dismissed them all with a snap of his fingers and then called for refreshments. Venport met the nobleman’s eyes. They both understood that they would get far more accomplished quietly, behind closed doors.

Holtzman cleared his throat and picked up papers from the table in front of him. “Before you begin, Directeur Venport, I believe you should understand that VenKee Enterprises really has no case.” He extended one of the documents. “This is a release signed by Norma Cenva when she first came to work for me. In it she acknowledges that whatever technologies and ideas she develops while working under my auspices belong to the citizens of Poritrin to do with as we wish. She had no right to give you an extremely valuable commercial patent.”

Venport studied the document, reading the words that he had already managed to see by bribing Senator Hosten Fru back on Salusa Secundus. No surprises there. Unimpressed, he pushed the document back.

“I do not challenge that Norma’s signature is genuine, Savant Holtzman. Can you also offer similar proof that Norma was given full access to legal counsel and professional advice before she signed such a ridiculous document? Can you also prove that she was of legal age to enter into the agreement? According to my records— and they are accurate, since I am the man who arranged for her transport to Poritrin in the first place— she was only fifteen years old when she departed from Rossak.” He tapped his fingertips on the table. “Tell me, Lord Bludd, is this truly a matter you wish exposed in open League court?”

Servants hurried in to serve lunch, and Venport waited until the clatter and disruption had died down. He wanted no extra ears to hear their conversation, though he was certain the Poritrin nobleman was recording every one of his words— again, inadmissible in any court, since Venport had never consented to such surveillance.

“Gentlemen,” he continued, “Norma Cenva is a treasure and a genius. I don’t believe you give her the respect, resources, or freedom that she deserves.”

“Norma has lived off of our good will for many years,” Holtzman said. “In the decades that she’s been with us she has accomplished nothing worthwhile since… since…” He shrugged. “I will have to look at my records.”