Dune (19 page)

“Do you also investigate the spice?”

Kynes turned, and Paul noted the hard line of the man’s cheek. “A curious
question, my Lord.”

“Bear in mind, Kynes, that this is now my fief. My methods differ from those
of the Harkonnens. I don’t care if you study the spice as long as I share what
you discover.” He glanced at the planetologist. “The Harkonnens discouraged
investigation of the spice, didn’t they?”

Kynes stared back without answering.

“You may speak plainly,” the Duke said, “without fear for your skin.”

“The Imperial Court is, indeed, a long way off,” Kynes muttered. And he
thought: What does this water-?soft invader expect? Does he think me fool enough
to enlist with him?

The Duke chuckled, keeping his attention on their course. “I detect a sour
note in your voice, sir. We’ve waded in here with our mob of tame killers, eh?
And we expect you to realize immediately that we’re different from the
Harkonnens?“

”I’ve seen the propaganda you’ve flooded into sietch and village,“ Kynes
said. ” ‘Love the good Duke!’ Your corps of–“

”Here now!“ Halleck barked. He snapped his attention away from the window,
leaned forward.

Paul put a hand on Halleck’s arm.

”Gurney!“ the Duke said. He glanced back. ”This man’s been long under the
Harkonnens.“

Halleck sat back. ”Ayah.“

”Your man Hawat’s subtle,“ Kynes said, ”but his object’s plain enough.“

”Will you open those bases to us, then?“ the Duke asked.

Kynes spoke curtly: ”They’re His Majesty’s property.“

”They’re not being used.“

”They could be used.“

”Does His Majesty concur?“

Kynes darted a hard stare at the Duke. ”Arrakis could be an Eden if its
rulers would look up from grubbing for spice!“

He didn’t answer my question, the Duke thought. And he said: ”How is a
planet to become an Eden without money?“

”What is money,“ Kynes asked, ”if it won’t buy the services you need?“

Ah, now! the Duke thought. And he said: ”We’ll discuss this another time.
Right now, I believe we’re coming to the edge of the Shield Wall. Do I hold the
same course?“

”The same course,“ Kynes muttered.

Paul looked out his window. Beneath them, the broken ground began to drop
away in tumbled creases toward a barren rock plain and a knife-?edged shelf.
Beyond the shelf, fingernail crescents of dunes marched toward the horizon with
here and there in the distance a dull smudge, a darker blotch to tell of
something not sand. Rock outcroppings, perhaps. In the heat-?addled air, Paul
couldn’t be sure.

”Are there any plants down there?“ Paul asked.

”Some,“ Kynes said. ”This latitude’s life-?zone has mostly what we call minor
water stealers–adapted to raiding each other for moisture, gobbling up the
trace-?dew. Some parts of the desert teem with life. But all of it has learned
how to survive under these rigors. If you get caught down there, you imitate
that life or you die.“

”You mean steal water from each other?“ Paul asked. The idea outraged him,
and his voice betrayed his emotion.

”It’s done,“ Kynes said, ”but that wasn’t precisely my meaning. You see, my
climate demands a special attitude toward water. You are aware of water at all
times. You waste nothing that contains moisture.“

And the Duke thought: ” . . . my climate!“

”Come around two degrees more southerly, my Lord,“ Kynes said. ”There’s a
blow coming up from the west.“

The Duke nodded. He had seen the billowing of tan dust there. He banked the
‘thopter around, noting the way the escort’s wings reflected milky orange from
the dust-?refracted light as they turned to keep pace with him.

”This should clear the storm’s edge,“ Kynes said.

”That sand must be dangerous if you fly into it,“ Paul said. ”Will it really
cut the strongest metals?“

”At this altitude, it’s not sand but dust,“ Kynes said. ”The danger is lack
of visibility, turbulence, clogged intakes.“

”We’ll see actual spice mining today?“ Paul asked.

”Very likely,“ Kynes said.

Paul sat back. He had used the questions and hyperawareness to do what his
mother called ”registering” the person. He had Kynes now–tune of voice, each
detail of face and gesture. An unnatural folding of the left sleeve on the man’s
robe told of a knife in an arm sheath. The waist bulged strangely. It was said
that desert men wore a belted sash into which they tucked small necessities.
Perhaps the bulges came from such a sash–certainly not from a concealed shield
belt. A copper pin engraved with the likeness of a hare clasped the neck of
Kynes’ robe. Another smaller pin with similar likeness hung at the corner of the
hood which was thrown back over his shoulders.

Halleck twisted in the seat beside Paul, reached back into the rear
compartment and brought out his baliset. Kynes looked around as Halleck tuned
the instrument, then returned his attention to their course.

“What would you like to hear, young Master?” Halleck asked.

“You choose, Gurney,” Paul said.

Halleck bent his ear close to the sounding board, strummed a chord and sang
softly:

“Our fathers ate manna in the desert,
In the burning places where whirlwinds came.
Lord, save us from that horrible land!
Save us . . . oh-?h-?h-?h, save us
From the dry and thirsty land.”

Kynes glanced at the Duke, said: “You do travel with a light complement of
guards, my Lord. Are all of them such men of many talents?”

“Gurney?” The Duke chuckled. “Gurney’s one of a kind. I like him with me for
his eyes. His eyes miss very little.”

The planetologist frowned.

Without missing a beat in his tune, Halleck interposed:

“For I am like an owl of the desert, o!

Aiyah! am like an owl of the des-?ert!”

The Duke reached down, brought up a microphone from the instrument panel,
thumbed it to life, said: “Leader to Escort Gemma. Flying object at nine
o’clock, Sector B. Do you identify it?”

“It’s merely a bird,” Kynes said, and added: “You have sharp eyes.”

The panel speaker crackled, then: “Escort Gemma. Object examined under full
amplification. It’s a large bird.”

Paul looked in the indicated direction, saw the distant speck: a dot of
intermittent motion, and realized how keyed up his father must be. Every sense
was at full alert.

“I’d not realized there were birds that large this far into the desert,” the
Duke said.

“That’s likely an eagle,” Kynes said. “Many creatures have adapted to this
place.”

The ornithopter swept over a bare rock plain. Paul looked down from their
two thousand meters’ altitude, saw the wrinkled shadow of their craft and
escort. The land beneath seemed flat, but shadow wrinkles said otherwise.

“Has anyone ever walked out of the desert?” the Duke asked.

Halleck’s music stopped. He leaned forward to catch the answer.

“Not from the deep desert,” Kynes said. “Men have walked out of the second
zone several times. They’ve survived by crossing the rock areas where worms
seldom go.”

The timbre of Kynes’ voice held Paul’s attention. He felt his sense come
alert the way they were trained to do.

“Ah-?h, the worms,” the Duke said. “I must see one sometime.”

“You may see one today,” Kynes said. “Wherever there is spice, there are
worms.”
“Always?” Halleck asked.

“Always.”

“Is there relationship between worm and spice?” the Duke asked.

Kynes turned and Paul saw the pursed lips as the man spoke. “They defend
spice sands. Each worm has a–territory. As to the spice . . . who knows? Worm
specimens we’ve examined lead us to suspect complicated chemical interchanges
within them. We find traces of hydrochloric acid in the ducts, more complicated
acid forms elsewhere. I’ll give you my monograph on the subject.”

“And a shield’s no defense?” the Duke asked.

“Shields!” Kynes sneered. “Activate a shield within the worm zone and you
seal your fate. Worms ignore territory lines, come from far around to attack a
shield. No man wearing a shield has ever survived such attack.”

“How are worms taken, then?”

“High voltage electrical shock applied separately to each ring segment is
the only known way of killing and preserving an entire worm,” Kynes said. “They
can be stunned and shattered by explosives, but each ring segment has a life of
its own. Barring atomics, I know of no explosive powerful enough to destroy a
large worm entirely. They’re incredibly tough.”

“Why hasn’t an effort been made to wipe them out?” Paul asked.

“Too expensive,” Kynes said. “Too much area to cover.”

Paul leaned back in his corner. His truthsense, awareness of tone shadings,
told him that Kynes was lying and telling half-?truths. And he thought: If
there’s a relationship between spice and worms, killing the worms would destroy
the spice.

“No one will have to walk out of the desert soon,” the Duke said. “Trip
these little transmitters at our necks and rescue is on its way. All our workers
will be wearing them before long. We’re setting up a special rescue service.”

“Very commendable,” Kynes said.

“Your tone says you don’t agree,” the Duke said.

“Agree? Of course I agree, but it won’t be much use. Static electricity from
sandstorms masks out many signals. Transmitters short out. They’ve been tried
here before, you know. Arrakis is tough on equipment. And if a worm’s hunting
you there’s not much time. Frequently, you have no more than fifteen or twenty
minutes.”

“What would you advise?” the Duke asked.

“You ask my advice?”

“As planetologist, yes.”

“You’d follow my advice?”

“If I found it sensible.”

“Very well, my Lord. Never travel alone.”

The Duke turned his attention from the controls. “That’s all?”

“That’s all. Never travel alone.”

“What if you’re separated by a storm and forced down?” Halleck asked. “Isn’t
there anything you could do?”

“Any thing covers much territory,” Kynes said.

“What would you do?” Paul asked.

Kynes turned a hard stare at the boy, brought his attention back to the
Duke. “I’d remember to protect the integrity of my stillsuit. If I were outside
the worm zone or in rock, I’d stay with the ship. If I were down in open sand,
I’d get away from the ship as fast as I could. About a thousand meters would be
far enough. Then I’d hide beneath my robe. A worm would get the ship, but it
might miss me.”

“Then what?” Halleck asked.

Kynes shrugged. “Wait for the worm to leave.”

“That’s all?” Paul asked.
“When the worm has gone, one may try to walk out,” Kynes said. “You must
walk softly, avoid drum sands, tidal dust basins–head for the nearest rock
zone. There are many such zones. You might make it.”

“Drum sand?” Halleck asked.

“A condition of sand compaction,” Kynes said. “The slightest step sets it
drumming. Worms always come to that.”

“And a tidal dust basin?” the Duke asked.

“Certain depressions in the desert have filled with dust over the centuries.
Some are so vast they have currents and tides. All will swallow the unwary who
step into them.”

Halleck sat back, resumed strumming the baliset. Presently, he sang:

“Wild beasts of the desert do hunt there,
Waiting for the innocents to pass.
Oh-?h-?h, tempt not the gods of the desert,
Lest you seek a lonely epitaph.
The perils of the–”

He broke off, leaned forward. “Dust cloud ahead, Sire.”

“I see it, Gurney.”

“That’s what we seek,” Kynes said.

Paul stretched up in the seat to peer ahead, saw a rolling yellow cloud low
on the desert surface some thirty kilometers ahead.

“One of your factory crawlers,” Kynes said. “It’s on the surface and that
means it’s on spice. The cloud is vented sand being expelled after the spice has
been centrifugally removed. There’s no other cloud quite like it.”

“Aircraft over it,” the Duke said.

“I see two . . . three . . . four spotters,” Kynes said. “They’re watching
for wormsign.”

“Wormsign?” the Duke asked.

“A sandwave moving toward the crawler. They’ll have seismic probes on the
surface, too. Worms sometimes travel too deep for the wave to show.” Kynes swung
his gaze around the sky. “Should be a carryall wing around, but I don’t see it.”

“The worm always comes, eh?” Halleck asked.

“Always.”

Paul leaned forward, touched Kynes’ shoulder. “How big an area does each
worm stake out?”

Kynes frowned. The child kept asking adult questions.

“That depends on the size of the worm.”

“What’s the variation?” the Duke asked.

“Big ones may control three or four hundred square kilometers. Small ones–”
He broke off as the Duke kicked on the jet brakes. The ship bucked as its tail
pods whispered to silence. Stub wings elongated, cupped the air. The craft
became a full ‘thopter as the Duke banked it, holding the wings to a gentle
beat, pointing with his left hand off to the east beyond the factory crawler.

“Is that wormsign?”

Kynes leaned across the Duke to peer into the distance.

Paul and Halleck were crowded together, looking in the same direction, and
Paul noted that their escort, caught by the sudden maneuver, had surged ahead,
but now was curving back. The factory crawler lay ahead of them, still some
three kilometers away.

Where the Duke pointed, crescent dune tracks spread shadow ripples toward
the horizon and, running through them as a level line stretching into the
distance, came an elongated mount-?in-?motion–a cresting of sand. It reminded
Paul of the way a big fish disturbed the water when swimming just under the
surface.
“Worm,” Kynes said. “Big one.” He leaned back, grabbed the microphone from
the panel, punched out a new frequency selection. Glancing at the grid chart on
rollers over their heads, he spoke into the microphone: “Calling crawler at
Delta Ajax niner. Wormsign warning. Crawler at Delta Ajax niner. Wormsign
warning. Acknowledge, please.” He waited.