Dune: House Atreides (65 page)

"Harvesting spice from Arrakis is incredibly expensive. If the Emperor has his own source of cheap melange, the market will collapse and House Corrino will control the rest -- a new monopoly held entirely in the hands of the Emperor."

"CHOAM won't like that," Rabban said with surprising insight.

De Vries suggested, "Then we will have to get this information to the Spacing Guild. We must reveal to them what the Emperor was doing, and see to it that Shaddam ceases all such investigations. CHOAM and the Guild won't want to lose their investment in spice production either."

"But what if the new Emperor makes a treaty with them first, Piter?" the Baron asked. "CHOAM is partially owned by House Corrino. Shaddam will be out to make his mark as he begins his reign. What if CHOAM presses him into giving them access to the synthetic spice at an extraordinary discount, as the price of their cooperation? The Guild would love to have a cheaper, reliable supply.

They might abandon Arrakis altogether if it's too difficult."

"Then we'll be the only ones left out in the cold," Rabban growled. "House Harkonnen gets stepped on by everybody."

The Mentat's eyes fell half-closed as he droned on. "We can't even file a formal complaint with the Houses of the Landsraad. Knowledge of a spice substitute would create a feeding frenzy among the Federated families.

Political alliances have shifted recently, and a number of Houses wouldn't mind if our monopoly were broken. They couldn't care less if the price of melange plummets. The only ones to lose would be those who had invested heavily in secret and illegal spice stockpiles, or those who invested heavily in the expensive spice-harvesting operations on Arrakis."

"In other words, us again -- and a few of our closest allies," the Baron said.

"The Bene Gesserit, and your little sweetheart among the witches, would probably like an inexpensive supply, too."

The Baron glowered at his nephew. Rabban merely chuckled. "So what can we do about it?"

De Vries answered without consulting the Baron. "House Harkonnen will have to take care of this by itself. We can expect no outside assistance."

"Remember that we're only a quasi-fief on Arrakis," the Baron said. "It was given to us on sufferance from CHOAM and the Emperor. And now it's like a hook on which they've hung us out to dry. We must be extremely careful."

"We don't have enough military strength to fight all those enemies," Rabban said.

"We'll have to be subtle," de Vries said.

"Subtlety?" The Baron raised his eyebrows. "All right, I'm willing to try new things."

"We must disrupt this Tleilaxu research on Ix," de Vries said, "preferably destroy it. I suggest that House Harkonnen also liquidate various assets, build up a reserve of cash, and milk our current spice production for as much hard profit as possible, because it may disappear at any moment."

The Baron looked over at Rabban. "We need to squeeze. Oh, and I'll have your idiot father step up whale-fur harvesting on Lankiveil. We need to stuff our coffers. The upcoming battles may be quite taxing to our resources."

The Mentat wiped a red drop from his lips. "We must do this in utmost secrecy.

CHOAM watches our financial activity carefully and would detect if we suddenly started doing something unusual. For now it's best we don't tip our hand about the Tleilaxu research. We don't want CHOAM or the Guild joining forces with our new Emperor against House Harkonnen."

"We've got to keep the Imperium properly dependent upon us," the Baron said.

Rabban scowled, trying to wrestle his way through the implications by brute force. "But if the Tleilaxu are entrenched on Ix, how do we destroy this research without exposing it for what it is? Without giving away our own involvement and bringing all of our enemies against us?"

De Vries sat back to stare at the sexual designs on the walls. The rotting corpses hung in their display cases like hideous eavesdroppers. His mind churned through Mentat calculations until finally he said, "We must have someone else fight for us. Preferably without their knowledge."

"Who?" Rabban asked.

"That's why we brought Piter here," the Baron said. "We need suggestions."

"Prime projection," de Vries said. "House Atreides."

Rabban's mouth dropped open. "The Atreides would never fight for us!"

De Vries shot back a response. "The Old Duke is dead, and House Atreides is currently unstable. Paulus's successor Leto is an impetuous young pup. He has no friends in the Landsraad and recently gave a rather embarrassing speech at the Council. He went home humiliated."

The Baron waited, trying to see where his Mentat was going with this.

"Second data point: House Vernius, staunch ally to Atreides, has been ousted from Ix by the Tleilaxu. Dominic Vernius remains at large with a price on his head, while Shando Vernius has just been killed, based on her renegade status.

House Atreides has offered sanctuary to the two children of Vernius. They're in thick with the victims of the Tleilaxu."

De Vries raised a finger to assemble the points. "Now, brash young Leto is a close friend of the exiled Prince of Ix. Duke Leto blames the Tleilaxu for the takeover of Ix, for the bounty on the mother, and for the ruined situation of their family. 'House Atreides values loyalty and honor far above politics,'

Leto said to the Landsraad. He may see it as his duty to help Rhombur Vernius regain his position on Ix. Who better to strike a blow for us?"

The Baron now smiled as he followed the implications. "So . . . start a war between House Atreides and the Tleilaxu! Let them tear each other apart. That way House Atreides and the synthetic-spice research will both be destroyed."

Rabban was clearly having trouble envisioning this. From the intense look on his face, the Baron could see that his nephew was thinking as hard as he could, just trying to keep up.

The Mentat nodded. "If played properly, we could accomplish this in such a manner that House Harkonnen remains completely apart from the hostilities. We get what we want, and our hands stay entirely clean."

"Brilliant, Piter! I'm glad I didn't execute you all those times when you were so annoying."

"So am I," de Vries said.

The Baron opened one of the nullentropy chambers to remove a flagon of expensive kirana brandy. "We must have a toast." Then he smiled slyly. "Because I've just realized when and how we can make all this happen." His two listeners couldn't have been more attentive.

"The new Duke is overwhelmed with the complexities of running his holdings.

Naturally, he will attend the coronation of Shaddam IV. No Great House could risk offending the new Padishah Emperor by scorning him on his greatest day."

De Vries caught on immediately. "When Duke Leto travels to the coronation . . .

that will be our chance to strike."

"On Kaitain?" Rabban said.

"Something more interesting than that, I suspect," de Vries said.

The Baron sipped the warm sweetness of the aged brandy. "Ahhh, it will be delicious revenge. And Leto won't even see it coming, won't know which direction it came from."

Rabban's eyes lit up. "We'll make him squirm, Uncle?"

The Baron handed crystal snifters to his nephew and his Mentat. Rabban drained his brandy in a single gulp, while de Vries simply stared at it as if performing a chemical analysis with his eyes.

"Yes, Rabban, he'll squirm and squirm until a big Imperial boot steps on him.

No one but a Tleilaxu may set foot in Bandalong, holiest city of the Bene Tleilax, for it is fanatically guarded hallowed ground, purified by their God.

-Diplomacy in the Imperium,

a Landsraad publication

The burn-scarred building had once been an Ixian fighting-mek factory . . . one of the sacrilegious industries that defied the holy commandments of the Butlerian Jihad. But not anymore. Hidar Fen Ajidica gazed at the rows of tanks and attendants, satisfied now to see that the place had been fully cleansed and put to good use. God will approve.

Following the Tleilaxu victory, the facility had been emptied of its poisonous machinery and blessed by fully robed Masters, so that it could be used for the exalted purposes of the Bene Tleilax. Despite the commandment and support from old Emperor Elrood, now dead, Ajidica had never considered this an Imperial project. The Tleilaxu did not act for the benefit of anyone but themselves and their God. They had their own purposes, which would never be understood by the unclean outsiders.

"Tleilaxu strategy is always woven within a web of strategies, any one of which may be the real strategy," he intoned the axiom of his people. "The magic of our God is our salvation."

Every axlotl tank contained the ingredients of a different experiment, each representing an alternate avenue for solving the artificial melange problem. No outsider had ever seen a Tleilaxu axlotl tank, and none understood their true function. To produce the precious spice, Ajidica knew he would have to use unsettling means. Others would be horrified, but God will approve, he repeated in his secret soul. Eventually, they would mass-produce the spice.

Realizing the complexity of his challenge, the Master Researcher had brought in technological adepts from Tleilax One -- learned men who had widely divergent views on how that goal might be attained. At this early point in the process, all options must be considered, all evidence studied for clues to be inserted directly into the DNA code of organic molecules, which the Tleilaxu called the Language of God.

All of the technological adepts agreed that artificial spice must be grown as an organic substance in an axlotl tank, because the tanks were holy sources of life and energy. Master Researchers had nurtured countless previous programs with astonishing results, from digs to clones and gholas . . . though there had been many unfortunate failures, as well.

These exotic vessels were the most sacred of Tleilaxu discoveries, with their workings shielded even from Crown Prince Shaddam, his aides, and his Sardaukar.

Such secrecy and security here on Ix -- now Xuttah -- had been a requirement of the original bargain with Emperor Elrood. The old man had agreed with deprecating amusement, must have assumed he could take those secrets whenever he wished.

Many people made such ridiculous assumptions about the Tleilaxu. Ajidica was accustomed to being dismissed by fools.

No one other than a Tleilaxu Master or a full-blooded Tleilaxu Researcher would ever have access to this knowledge. Ajidica drew a deep breath of the rank chemicals, the unpleasant humid stink that was an inevitable consequence of the functioning tanks. Natural odors. I feel the presence of my God, he thought, forming the words in Islamiyat -- the arcane language that was never spoken aloud outside of kehls, the secret councils of his race. God is merciful. He alone can guide me.

A glowglobe floated in front of his eyes, blinking red . . . long, long, short, pause . . . long, short, color change to blue . . . five rapid blinks and back to red. The Crown Prince's emissary was anxious to see him. Hidar Fen Ajidica knew not to keep Hasimir Fenring waiting. Though he had no noble title of his own, the impatient Fenring was the Imperial heir's closest friend, and Fenring understood the manipulations of personal power better than most great leaders in the Landsraad. Ajidica even bore a certain amount of respect for the man.

With resignation Ajidica turned and passed easily through an identity zone that would have been deadly to anyone not properly sanctioned. Even the Crown Prince himself would be unable to pass through safely. Ajidica smiled at the superiority of his people's ways. Ixians had used machinery and force fields for security, as the ruthless and clumsy suboid rebels had discovered . . .

causing messy detonations and collateral damage. Tleilaxu, on the other hand, used biological agents, unleashed through ingenious interactions -- toxins and nerve mists that rendered powindah infidels lifeless the moment they set foot where they didn't belong.

Outside in the secure waiting area, a smiling Hasimir Fenring greeted Ajidica as the researcher exited the identity zone. From some angles the weak-chinned man looked like a weasel and from others a rabbit, innocuous in appearance, but oh so dangerous. The two faced each other in what had once been an Ixian lobby connected through an intricate network of clear-plaz lift tubes. This deadly Imperial killer stood more than a head taller than the Master Researcher.

"Ah, my dear Fen Ajidica," Fenring purred, "your experiments go well, hm-m-m-m-ah? Crown Prince Shaddam is eager to receive an update as he begins the work of his Imperium."

"We make good progress, sir. Our uncrowned Emperor has received my gift, I presume?"

"Yes, very nice, and he sends his appreciation." He smiled tightly as he thought of it: a silver-furred hermafox, capable of self-replication, an unusual living bauble that served no useful purpose whatsoever. "Wherever did you come up with such an interesting creature?"

"We are adepts with the forces of life, sir." The eyes, Ajidica thought. Watch his eyes. They reveal dangerous emotions. Vicious now.

"So you enjoy playing God?" Fenring said.

With controlled indignation, Ajidica retorted, "There is but one God All High.

I would not presume to take His place."

"Of course not." Fenring's eyes narrowed. "Our new Emperor sends his gratitude, but points out one gift he would have greatly preferred -- a sample of artificial spice."

"We are working hard on the problem, sir, but we told Emperor Elrood from the outset that it would take many years, possibly even decades, to develop a completed product. Much of our labor heretofore has simply been consolidating our control on Xuttah and adapting the existing facilities."

"You've made no tangible progress, then?" Fenring's scorn was so extreme that he couldn't conceal it.

"There are many promising signs."

"Good, then may I tell Shaddam when he should expect his gift? He would like to receive it prior to his coronation, in six weeks' time."