Dune (14 page)

Presently, Leto took a leisurely diagonal course across to the lift,
acknowledging salutes with a casual hand wave. He recognized a propaganda
corpsman, stopped to give him a message that could be relayed to the men through
channels: those who had brought their women would want to know the women were
safe and where they could be found. The others would wish to know that the
population here appeared to boast more women than men.

The Duke slapped the propaganda man on the arm, a signal that the message
had top priority to be put out immediately, then continued across the room. He
nodded to the men, smiled, traded pleasantries with a subaltern.

Command must always look confident, he thought. All that faith riding on
your shoulders while you sit in the critical seat and never show it.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the lift swallowed him and he could turn
and face the impersonal doors.

They have tried to take the life of my son!

= = = = = =

Over the exit of the Arrakeen landing field, crudely carved as though with a
poor instrument, there was an inscription that Muad’Dib was to repeat many
times. He saw it that first night on Arrakis, having been brought to the ducal
command post to participate in his father’s first full staff conference. The
words of the inscription were a plea to those leaving Arrakis, but they fell
with dark import on the eyes of a boy who had just escaped a close brush with
death. They said: “O you who know what we suffer here, do not forget us in your
prayers. ”
-from “Manual of Muad’Dib” by the Princess Irulan

“The whole theory of warfare is calculated risk,” the Duke said, “but when
it comes to risking your own family, the element of calculation gets submerged
in . . . other things.”

He knew he wasn’t holding in his anger as well as he should, and he turned,
strode down the length of the long table and back.

The Duke and Paul were alone in the conference room at the landing field. It
was an empty-?sounding room, furnished only with the long table, old-?fashioned
three-?legged chairs around it, and a map board and projector at one end. Paul
sat at the table near the map board. He had told his father the experience with
the hunter-?seeker and given the reports that a traitor threatened him.

The Duke stopped across from Paul, pounded the table: “Hawat told me that
house was secure!”

Paul spoke hesitantly: “I was angry, too–at first. And I blamed Hawat. But
the threat came from outside the house. It was simple, clever, and direct. And
it would’ve succeeded were it not for the training given me by you and many
others–including Hawat.”

“Are you defending him?” the Duke demanded.

“Yes.”

“He’s getting old. That’s it. He should be–”

“He’s wise with much experience,” Paul said. “How many of Hawat’s mistakes
can you recall?”

“I should be the one defending him,” the Duke said. “Not you.”

Paul smiled.

Leto sat down at the head of the table, put a hand over his son’s. “You’ve .
. . matured lately, Son.” He lifted his hand. “It gladdens me.” He matched his
son’s smile. “Hawat will punish himself. He’ll direct more anger against himself
over this than both of us together could pour on him.”

Paul glanced toward the darkened windows beyond the map board, looked at the
night’s blackness. Room lights reflected from a balcony railing out there. He
saw movement and recognized the shape of a guard in Atreides uniform. Paul
looked back at the white wall behind his father, then down to the shiny surface
of the table, seeing his own hands clenched into fists there.
The door opposite the Duke banged open. Thufir Hawat strode through it
looking older and more leathery than ever. He paced down the length of the
table, stopped at attention facing Leto.

“My Lord,” he said, speaking to a point over Leto’s head, “I have just
learned how I failed you. It becomes necessary that I tender my resig–”

“Oh, sit down and stop acting the fool,” the Duke said. He waved to the
chair across from Paul. “If you made a mistake, it was in overestimating the
Harkonnens. Their simple minds came up with a simple trick. We didn’t count on
simple tricks. And my son has been at great pains to point out to me that he
came through this largely because of your training. You didn’t fail there!” He
tapped the back of the empty chair. “Sit down, I say!”

Hawat sank into the chair. “But–”

“I’ll hear no more of it,” the Duke said. “The incident is past. We have
more pressing business. Where are the others?”

“I asked them to wait outside while I–”

“Call them in.”

Hawat looked into Leto’s eyes. “Sire, I–”

“I know who my true friends are, Thufir,” the Duke said. “Call in the men.”

Hawat swallowed. “At once, my Lord.” He swiveled in the chair, called to the
open door: “Gurney, bring them in.”

Halleck led the file of men into the room, the staff officers looking grimly
serious followed by the younger aides and specialists, an air of eagerness among
them. Brief scuffing sounds echoed around the room as the men took seats. A
faint smell of rachag stimulant wafted down the table.

“There’s coffee for those who want it,” the Duke said.

He looked over his men, thinking: They’re a good crew. A man could do far
worse for this kind of war. He waited while coffee was brought in from the
adjoining room and served, noting the tiredness in some of the faces.

Presently, he put on his mask of quiet efficiency, stood up and commanded
their attention with a knuckle rap against the table.

“Well, gentlemen,” he said, “our civilization appears to’ve fallen so deeply
into the habit of invasion that we cannot even obey a simple order of the
Imperium without the old ways cropping up.”

Dry chuckles sounded around the table, and Paul realized that his father had
said the precisely correct thing in precisely the correct tone to lift the mood
here. Even the hint of fatigue in his voice was right.

“I think first we’d better learn if Thufir has anything to add to his report
on the Fremen,” the Duke said. “Thufir?”

Hawat glanced up. “I’ve some economic matters to go into after my general
report, Sire, but I can say now that the Fremen appear more and more to be the
allies we need. They’re waiting now to see if they can trust us, but they appear
to be dealing openly. They’ve sent us a gift–stillsuits of their own
manufacture . . . maps of certain desert areas surrounding strongpoints the
Harkonnens left behind, . . .” He glanced down at the table. “Their intelligence
reports have proved completely reliable and have helped us considerably in our
dealings with the Judge of the Change. They’ve also sent some incidental things-
-jewelry for the Lady Jessica, spice liquor, candy, medicinals. My men are
processing the lot right now. There appears to be no trickery.”

“You like these people, Thufir?” asked a man down the table.

Hawat turned to face his questioner. “Duncan Idaho says they’re to be
admired.”

Paul glanced at his father, back to Hawat, ventured a question: “Have you
any new information on how many Fremen there are?”

Hawat looked at Paul. “From food processing and other evidence, Idaho
estimates the cave complex he visited consisted of some ten thousand people, all
told. Their leader said he ruled a sietch of two thousand hearths. We’ve reason
to believe there are a great many such sietch communities. All seem to give
their allegiance to someone called Liet.“

”That’s something new,“ Leto said.

”It could be an error on my part, Sire. There are things to suggest this
Liet may be a local deity.“

Another man down the table cleared his throat, asked: ”Is it certain they
deal with the smugglers?“

”A smuggler caravan left this sietch while Idaho was there, carrying a heavy
load of spice. They used pack beasts and indicated they faced an eighteen-?day
journey.“

”It appears,“ the Duke said, ”that the smugglers have redoubled their
operations during this period of unrest. This deserves some careful thought. We
shouldn’t worry too much about unlicensed frigates working off our planet–it’s
always done. But to have them completely outside our observation–that’s not
good.“

”You have a plan. Sire,“ Hawat asked.

The Duke looked at Halleck. ”Gurney, I want you to head a delegation, an
embassy if you will, to contact these romantic businessmen. Tell them I’ll
ignore their operations as long as they give me a ducal tithe. Hawat here
estimates that graft and extra fighting men heretofore required in their
operations have been costing them four times that amount.“

”What if the Emperor gets wind of this?“ Halleck asked. ”He’s very jealous
of his CHOAM profits, m’Lord.“

Leto smiled. ”We’ll bank the entire tithe openly in the name of Shaddam IV
and deduct it legally from our levy support costs. Let the Harkonnens fight
that! And we’ll be ruining a few more of the locals who grew fat under the
Harkonnen system. No more graft!“

A grin twisted Halleck’s face. ”Ahh, m’Lord, a beautiful low blow. Would
that I could see the Baron’s face when he learns of this.“

The Duke turned to Hawat. ”Thufir, did you get those account books you said
you could buy?“

”Yes, my Lord. They’re being examined in detail even now. I’ve skimmed them,
though, and can give a first approximation.“

”Give it, then.“

”The Harkonnens took ten billion Solaris out of here every three hundred and
thirty Standard days.“

A muted gasp ran around the table. Even the younger aides, who had been
betraying some boredom, sat up straighter and exchanged wide-?eyed looks.

Halleck murmured: ” ‘For they shall suck of the abundance of the seas and of
the treasure hid in the sand.’ “

”You see, gentlemen,“ Leto said. ”Is there anyone here so naive he believes
the Harkonnens have quietly packed up and walked away from all this merely
because the Emperor ordered it?“

There was a general shaking of heads, murmurous agreement.

”We will have to take it at the point of the sword,“ Leto said. He turned to
Hawat. ”This’d be a good point to report on equipment. How many sandcrawlers,
harvesters, spice factories, and supporting equipment have they left us?“

”A full complement, as it says in the Imperial inventory audited by the
Judge of the Change, my Lord,“ Hawat said. He gestured for an aide to pass him a
folder, opened the folder on the table in front of him. ”They neglect to mention
that less than half the crawlers are operable, that only about a third have
carryalls to fly them to spice sands–that everything the Harkonnens left us is
ready to break down and fall apart. We’ll be lucky to get half the equipment
into operation and luckier yet if a fourth of it’s still working six months from
now.“

”Pretty much as we expected,“ Leto said. ”What’s the firm estimate on basic
equipment?”
Hawat glanced at his folder. “About nine hundred and thirty harvester-
factories that can be sent out in a few days. About sixty-?two hundred and fifty
ornithopters for survey, scouting, and weather observation . . . carryalls, a
little under a thousand.”

Halleck said: “Wouldn’t it be cheaper to reopen negotiations with the Guild
for permission to orbit a frigate as a weather satellite?”

The Duke looked at Hawat. “Nothing new there, eh, Thufir?”

“We must pursue other avenues for now,” Hawat said. “The Guild agent wasn’t
really negotiating with us. He was merely making it plain–one Mentat to
another–that the price was out of our reach and would remain so no matter how
long a reach we develop. Our task is to find out why before we approach him
again.”

One of Halleck’s aides down the table swiveled in his chair, snapped:
“There’s no justice in this!”

“Justice?” The Duke looked at the man. “Who asks for justice? We make our
own justice. We make it here on Arrakis–win or die, Do you regret casting your
lot with us, sir?”

The man stared at the Duke, then: “No, Sire. You couldn’t turn and I could
do nought but follow you. Forgive the outburst, but . . .” He shrugged. “ . . .
we must all feel bitter at times.”

“Bitterness I understand,” the Duke said. “But let us not rail about justice
as long as we have arms and the freedom to use them. Do any of the rest of you
harbor bitterness? If so, let it out. This is friendly council where any man may
speak his mind.”

Halleck stirred, said: “I think what rankles, Sire, is that we’ve had no
volunteers from the other Great Houses. They address you as ‘Leto the Just’ and
promise eternal friendship, but only as long as it doesn’t cost them anything.”

“They don’t know yet who’s going to win this exchange,” the Duke said. “Most
of the Houses have grown fat by taking few risks. One cannot truly blame them
for this; one can only despise them.” He looked at Hawat. “We were discussing
equipment. Would you care to project a few examples to familiarize the men with
this machinery?”

Hawat nodded, gestured to an aide at the projector.

A solido tri-?D projection appeared on the table surface about a third of the
way down from the Duke. Some of the men farther along the table stood up to get
a better look at it.

Paul leaned forward, staring at the machine.

Scaled against the tiny projected human figures around it, the thing was
about one hundred and twenty meters long and about forty meters wide. It was
basically a long, bug-?like body moving on independent sets of wide tracks.

“This is a harvester factory,” Hawat said. “We chose one in good repair for
this projection. There’s one dragline outfit that came in with the first team of
Imperial ecologists, though, and it’s still running . . . although I don’t know
how . . . or why.”

“If that’s the one they call ‘Old Maria,’ it belongs in a museum,” an aide
said. “I think the Harkonnens kept it as a punishment job, a threat hanging over
their workers’ heads. Be good or you’ll be assigned to ‘Old Maria.’ ”