Dune: House Atreides (82 page)

The Baron looked piercingly at de Vries, then gestured toward the operating rooms. "Perhaps you'd better attend to this yourself, Piter. I want to make certain that idiot entertainment monitor survives his surgery . . . at least until I've made sufficient use of him."

"Yes, my Baron," the Mentat said and scuttled down the halls to the medical chambers. The screams grew higher-pitched and womanish. The Baron heard the sounds of sizzling cutterays and a grinding saw.

The Baron thought of his newly shortened plaything and what he would do to Yh'imm as soon as the painkillers began to wear off. Or could it be possible the doctors had managed their task without using any painkillers? Perhaps.

Rabban let his thick-lidded eyes fall closed in supreme pleasure, just listening and enjoying. Given the choice, he would rather have hunted the man down in Giedi Prime's wilderness preserve. But the Baron thought that sounded like too much trouble -- all that running and chasing and climbing snow-covered rocks.

He could come up with far better ways of spending his time. Besides, the Baron's limbs and joints had been growing increasingly sore of late, his muscles were weakened and trembled, his body was losing its edge . . . .

For now the Baron would simply make up his own sport. Once Yh'imm's stumps were cauterized and sealed, he would pretend the hapless monitor was Duke Atreides himself. That would be fun.

The Baron paused and realized how foolish it was for him to be so upset over the failure of a single plan. For uncounted generations the Harkonnens had spun subtle traps for their hated mortal enemies. But the Atreides were difficult to kill, especially when their backs were to the wall. The feud extended all the way back to the Great Revolt, the betrayal, the accusations of cowardice. Since that time, Harkonnen had always hated Atreides, and vice versa.

And so it would always be.

"We still have Arrakis," the Baron said. "We still control melange production, even though we're under CHOAM's thumb and the watchful eye of the Padishah Emperor." He grinned at Rabban, who grinned back at him, strictly out of habit.

Deep in the heart of the dirty and dark grandeur of Harkonnen Keep, the Baron clenched his fist and raised it high in the air. "As long as we control Arrakis, we control our own fortunes." He clapped a hand on his nephew's padded shoulder. "We will wring spice from the sands until Arrakis is nothing more than an empty husk!"

The universe contains untapped and heretofore unimagined energy sources. They are before your very eyes, yet you cannot see them. They are in your mind, yet you cannot think them. But I can!

-TIO HOLTZMAN,

Collected Lectures

On the Spacing Guild world of Junction, the one who had been D'murr Pilru was brought before a tribunal of Navigators. They didn't tell him the reason, and even with all his intuition and conceptual understanding of the universe, he could not fathom what they wanted from him.

No other trainees joined D'murr, none of the new Pilots who had learned the ways of foldspace with him. On a huge open parade ground of stunted blakgras, the sealed spice-filled tanks of the high-level tribunal were arrayed in a semicircle on grooved flagstones, where tracks from thousands of previous convocations could still be seen.

D'murr's smaller tank sat in front of them all, solitary at the center of the semicircle. Relatively new to his life as a Navigator, still a low-ranking Pilot, he retained much of his human shape inside the enclosed tank. The members of the tribunal -- Steersmen all, each inside his own tank -- showed only bloated heads and monstrously altered eyes peering out through the murk of cinnamon-orange.

I will be like them someday, D'murr thought. At one time he would have recoiled in horror; now he accepted it as inevitable. He thought of all the new revelations he would have along the way.

The Guild tribunal spoke to him in their shorthand, higher-order mathematical language, thoughts and words communicated through the fabric of space itself --vastly more efficient than any human conversation. Grodin, the Head Instructor, acted as their mouthpiece.

"You have been monitored," said Grodin. By long-standing procedure, Guild Instructors set up holorecording devices in every Heighliner navigation chamber and every training tank of the new and unproven Pilots. Periodically in the ships' circuitous routes between the stars, these recordings were removed from the transports and cargo ships and delivered to Junction.

"All evidence is studied in detail as a routine matter." D'murr knew that Guild Bank officials and their economic partners in CHOAM had to make certain that important navigation rules and safeguards were being followed. He questioned none of it.

"The Guild is perplexed by targeted and unauthorized transmissions being directed to your navigation chamber."

His brother's communication device! D'murr reeled inside his tank, floating free, seeing all the dizzy possibilities, the punishments and retributions he might face. He could become one of those pathetic failed Navigators, stunted and inhuman -- the physical price paid, but the benefits not reaped. But D'murr knew his ability was strong! Perhaps the Steersmen would forgive . . . .

"We are curious," Grodin said.

D'murr told them everything, explained everything he knew, gave them every detail. Trying to remember what C'tair had told him, he reported on the conditions inside sealed Ix, the Tleilaxu decision to return to more primitive Heighliner designs. The Heighliner decision disturbed them, but the tribunal was more interested in the functioning of the "Rogo transceiver" itself.

"Never have we had instantaneous foldspace transmission," Grodin said. For centuries all messages had been carried by Couriers, in physical form, on a physical ship that traveled through foldspace much faster than any known method of transmission could skim across space. "Can we exploit this innovation?"

D'murr realized the military and economic potential of such a device, if it could ever prove feasible. Though he didn't know all the technical details, his brother had created an unprecedented system, and one most intriguing to the Spacing Guild. They wanted it for themselves.

A senior tribunal member suggested the possibility of using a mentally enhanced Navigator on both ends, rather than a mere human, like C'tair Pilru. Another questioned whether the link was more mental than technological, an enhanced connection because of the former closeness of the twins, the similarity of their brain patterns.

Perhaps, among the vast pool of Pilots, Navigators, and Steersmen, the Guild could find others with similar mental connections . . . though it would likely be rare. Nevertheless, despite the cost and difficulty, this method of communication was perhaps a service that could be tested, and then offered at great expense to the Emperor.

"You may retain your status as Pilot," Grodin said, releasing him from the inquiry.

FOR SEVERAL WEEKS after returning in triumph from Kaitain, Duke Leto Atreides and Rhombur Vernius had awaited a response from the new Emperor to their request for an Imperial audience. Leto was prepared to board a shuttle and travel to the Imperial Palace the moment a Courier arrived with a confirmed slot in the Emperor's calendar. He had vowed to make no mention of his bluff message, decided not to pursue the matter of a Corrino-Tleilaxu connection . . . but Shaddam IV had to be curious.

If another week passed without a response, however, Leto would go there even without an appointment.

Attempting to ride the momentum of his increasing stature and popularity, Leto wished to discuss amnesty and reparations for House Vernius. He believed this would be the best chance to bring the situation to a fortuitous conclusion, but as the days passed in Imperial silence, he saw the opportunity slipping like silt through his fingertips. Even optimistic Rhombur became agitated and frustrated, while Kailea grew more and more resigned to their limited options in life.

Finally, in a standard communique via human Courier bearing a message cylinder, the Emperor suggested -- since he had very little free time for conversation with his cousin -- that they make use of a new and untried method being offered by the Spacing Guild, an instantaneous process called Guildlink. It involved the mental connection of two Guild Navigators positioned in separate star systems; a Heighliner in orbit around Caladan and another over Kaitain could theoretically arrange a conversation involving Duke Leto Atreides and Emperor Shaddam IV

"At last I'll be able to speak my piece," Leto said, though he had never before heard of this communication method. Shaddam seemed anxious to try it for his own purposes, and this way no one would see him actually meeting with Duke Leto Atreides.

Kailea's emerald eyes lit up, and she even ignored the distasteful bull's-head that hung in the dining hall. She went to change her dress into proud Vernius colors, though it wasn't likely she would be seen in the transmission at all.

Rhombur came at the appointed hour, accompanied by Thufir Hawat. Leto sent all the other retainers, guards, and household staff out of the room.

The Heighliner that had brought the original Courier remained in geostationary orbit over Caladan; another already waited over Kaitain. The sophisticated Guild Steersmen aboard each ship -- separated from one another by vast distances

-- would use an unfathomable procedure that allowed them to stretch their minds across the void, joining thoughts to form a connection. The Guild had tested hundreds of their Navigators before finding two that could establish a tentative direct link -- through telepathy, melange-fostered prescience, or some other method, to be determined.

Leto took a deep breath, wishing he had more time to practice his words, though he had already waited far too long. He dared not request another delay . . . .

From a magnificent hedge-lined arboretum at the Imperial Palace, Shaddam spoke into a tiny microphone on his chin, which transmitted to speakers in the navigation chamber of the Heighliner over his planet. "Can you hear me, Leto Atreides? It's a sunny morning here, and I've just returned from my morning walk." He took a sip from a goblet of syrupy juice.

As the Emperor's words reached the navigation chamber of the ship orbiting Kaitain, the Steersman in the other Heighliner over Caladan experienced them in his mind, in an echo of what his compatriot had heard. Breaking the link temporarily, the Steersman over Caladan repeated the Emperor's words into the glittering speaker globe that floated within his spice-filled chamber. In turn, standing in the echoing dining hall of Castle Caladan, Leto heard the words over his own speaker system, distorted and slow, without the nuances of emotion. But still, they were the Emperor's own words.

"I've always preferred the morning sun of Caladan, Cousin," Leto responded, using the familiar form of address, trying to begin on friendly terms. "You should visit our humble world someday."

By the time Leto said this, the Navigator above Caladan was again in Guildlink with his associate, and Leto's words were heard in the other ship, then transmitted down to Kaitain.

"This new communication is marvelous," Shaddam said, avoiding the meat of Leto's request. He did, however, seem to be enjoying the possibilities of Guildlink, as if it were a new toy for him. "Much faster than human messengers, though it'll likely be prohibitively expensive. Ah yes, we have here the makings of another monopoly for the Guild. Hopefully they won't charge too much for urgent messages."

Receiving the words in his dining hall, Leto wondered if that message was for his benefit, or the Guild eavesdroppers.

Shaddam coughed uneasily, sounds that were not repeated in the translation process. "There are so many important issues on Imperial planets, and such a shortage of time in which to address them. I have too little time for friendships I'd like to nurture, such as yours, Cousin. What is it you wish to talk with me about?"

Leto drew a sharp breath, and the hawklike features on his narrow face darkened.

"Exalted Emperor Shaddam, we beseech you to grant amnesty to House Vernius and restore them to their rightful place in the Landsraad. The world of Ix is economically vital and must not remain in the hands of the Tleilaxu. They have already destroyed important manufacturing facilities and have curtailed products vital to the security of the Imperium." Then he added, with just another hint of his bluff, "We both know what is really going on there, even now."

The Tleilaxu connection again, Leto thought. Let's see if I can make him believe I know more than I really do. Standing beside him in the room, Prince Rhombur fixed him with a wary gaze.

"I cannot discuss such matters through intermediaries," Shaddam said quickly.

Leto's eyes widened at the possible mistake Shaddam had just made. "Are you suggesting that the Guild can't be trusted, Sire? They haul armies for the Imperium and the Great Houses; they know or suspect battle plans before they are implemented. This Guildlink is even more secure than a face-to-face discussion in the Imperial audience chamber."

"But we haven't studied the merits of the matter," Shaddam protested, clearly stalling. He had been watching the rising popularity and influence of Duke Leto Atreides. Did this upstart have connections that extended even to the Spacing Guild? He looked around his empty gardens, wishing Fenring were with him after all, but the ferretlike man was preparing for his journey to Arrakis. Perhaps it was a mistake to save Leto after all.

Keeping his phraseology lean and to the point, Leto presented the noble case of the Ixians, asserting that House Vernius had never manufactured forbidden technology. Despite their promises, the Tleilaxu had brought no case and no evidence to the governing body of the Landsraad, and had instead taken matters into their own hands in their greed to acquire the riches of Ix. Based upon conversations he'd had with Rhombur, Leto provided a value for the fief and how much damage the Tleilaxu had caused.

"That sounds excessive," Shaddam said, too quickly. "Reports from the Bene Tleilax indicate a much lower figure."