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serving as an official representative to the Landsraad League, while also managing and expanding the family’s commercial operations, the prospects for House Harkonnen were brightening.
    “Well, I’m sure it’s the right decision then.” Vergyl seemed amused by his son’s grand ideas. Though Griffin had taken over much of the business work and decisions, his father still thought of him as a naïve young man.
    For an ambitious new merchant venture that Griffin and Valya had brainstormed together, he had asked their uncle Weller to travel from planet to planet representing the family and arranging whale-fur contracts. Though Weller was an excellent salesman and everybody liked him, he did not have a very good head for business, and his brother Vergyl was even more out of touch with important issues affecting the family. At least Uncle Weller understood commercial tactics and goals, wanted to do something, and was willing to contribute his time and talents; Vergyl had basically given up. If Griffin’s father ever had any ambitions at all when he was younger (and Griffin was not sure about that), he certainly did not have any now.
    In the year previous, investing and planning for the expanded market, Griffin had arranged to dispatch hundreds of additional ships to secure the largest single fur-whale harvest the planet had ever produced. Then he had brokered a transportation and cargo-hauling deal with the low-end shipping company Celestial Transport, to take Uncle Weller and his wares across the Imperium.
    The League’s dominant transportation line was the VenHold Spacing Fleet. Its safety record was impeccable, because their ships were guided by mysterious—some said inhuman—Navigators who could foresee hazards and accidents before they occurred. But VenHold charged prohibitively high fares, and House Harkonnen had invested a significant portion of their family profits into this expansion. Griffin could not justify the additional expense; though Celestial Transport was slower and did not use Navigators, they did offer very favorable terms. So, with all the details arranged, Griffin’s uncle had departed with a huge cargo of silky whale fur, hoping to establish a demand and then lock down lucrative distribution deals with other planets.
    Meanwhile, Griffin dove into his studies to take the qualification exam to become Lankiveil’s official representative to Salusa Secundus. He glanced up at his father. “I need to finish studying—I’m required to dispatch my test packet on the next outbound ship.”
    Vergyl Harkonnen gave him an offhanded compliment, meant as encouragement. “You’ll do fine, son.” He left Griffin to his studies.

 
    I am a generous man, when my largesse is earned. But I see a difference between generosity to those who deserve it, and charity to those who would take advantage of my wealth.
    — DIRECTEUR JOSEF VENPORT , standard response to donation request
    Narrowing his blue eyes, Josef Venport regarded the nervous crew chiefs who waited to deliver their reports in the environmentally controlled conference room at VenHold’s headquarters on planet Arrakis. “Make no mistake. I will do whatever is necessary to protect my holdings.”
    The directeur paced the room to burn off energy, attempting to keep his anger under control. His thick cinnamon hair was brushed back from his forehead, and he sported a bushy mustache above thin lips that rarely smiled. His heavy brows drew tighter as he looked at the managers. “My great-grandmother, Norma Cenva, sacrificed most of her space fleet, not to mention countless human lives, to defeat the thinking machines. Guarding my own business interests may not seem as dramatic, but I advise you not to test my resolve.”
    “We have never doubted your resolve, sir,” said Lilik Arvo, overseer of the company spice-harvesting operations on Arrakis. His voice quavered. Arvo’s skin was tanned dark and leathery, like an old raisin. The other two men, section