Dune (75 page)

“You’ve had no reports from spice lighters that patches of greenery appear
there?”

“There’ve always been such reports. Some were investigated — long ago. A
few plants were seen. Many ‘thopters were lost. Much too costly, Your Majesty.
It’s a place where men cannot survive for long.”

“So,” the Emperor said. He snapped his fingers and a door opened at his left
behind the throne. Through the door came two Sardaukar herding a girl-?child who
appeared to be about four years old. She wore a black aba, the hood thrown back
to reveal the attachments of a stillsuit hanging free at her throat. Her eyes
were Fremen blue, staring out of a soft, round face. She appeared completely
unafraid and there was a look to her stare that made the Baron feel uneasy for
no reason he could explain.
Even the old Bene Gesserit Truthsayer drew back as the child passed and made
a warding sign in her direction. The old witch obviously was shaken by the
child’s presence.

The Emperor cleared his throat to speak, but the child spoke first — a thin
voice with traces of a soft-?palate lisp, but clear nonetheless. “So here he is,”
she said. She advanced to the edge of the dais. “He doesn’t appear much, does he
– one frightened old fat man too weak to support his own flesh without the help
of suspensors.”

It was such a totally unexpected statement from the mouth of a child that
the Baron stared at her, speechless in spite of his anger. Is it a midget? he
asked himself.

“My dear Baron,” the Emperor said, “become acquainted with the sister of
Muad’Dib.”

“The sist . . . ”The Baron shifted his attention to the Emperor. “I do not
understand.”

“I, too, sometimes err on the side of caution,” the Emperor said. “It has
been reported to me that your uninhabited south polar regions exhibit evidence
of human activity.”

“But that’s impossible!” the Baron protested. “The worms . . . there’s sand
clear to the . . . ”

“These people seem able to avoid the worms,” the Emperor said.

The child sat down on the dais beside the throne, dangled her feet over the
edge, kicking them. There was such an air of sureness in the way she appraised
her surroundings.

The Baron stared at the kicking feet, the way they moved the black robe, the
wink of sandals beneath the fabric.

“Unfortunately,” the Emperor said, “I only sent in five troop carriers with
a light attack force to pick up prisoners for questioning. We barely got away
with three prisoners and one carrier. Mind you, Baron, my Sardaukar were almost
overwhelmed by a force composed mostly of women, children, and old men. This
child here was in command of one of the attacking groups.”

“You see, Your Majesty!” the Baron said. “You see how they are!”

“I allowed myself to be captured,” the child said. “I did not want to face
my brother and have to tell him that his son had been killed.”

“Only a handful of our men got away,” the Emperor said. “Got away! You hear
that?”

“We’d have had them, too,” the child said, “except for the flames.”

“My Sardaukar used the attitudinal jets on their carrier as flame-?throwers,”
the Emperor said. “A move of desperation and the only thing that got them away
with their three prisoners. Mark that, my dear Baron: Sardaukar forced to
retreat in confusion from women and children and old men!”

“We must attack in force,” the Baron rasped. “We must destroy every last
vestige of –”

“Silence!” the Emperor roared. He pushed himself forward on his throne. “Do
not abuse my intelligence any longer. You stand there in your foolish innocence
and –”

“Majesty,” the old Truthsayer said.

He waved her to silence. “You say you don’t know about the activity we
found, nor the fighting qualities of these superb people!” The Emperor lifted
himself half off his throne. “What do you take me for, Baron?”

The Baron took two backward steps, thinking: It was Rabban. He has done this
to me. Rabban has . . .

“And this fake dispute with Duke Leto,” the Emperor purred, sinking back
into his throne. “How beautifully you maneuvered it.”

“Majesty,” the Baron pleaded. “What are you –”

“Silence!”
The old Bene Gesserit put a hand on the Emperor’s shoulder, leaned close to
whisper in his ear.

The child seated on the dais stopped kicking her feet, said: “Make him
afraid some more, Shaddam. I shouldn’t enjoy this, but I find the pleasure
impossible to suppress.”

“Quiet, child,” the Emperor said. He leaned forward, put a hand on her head,
stared at the Baron. “Is it possible, Baron? Could you be as simpleminded as my
Truthsayer suggests? Do you not recognize this child, daughter of your ally,
Duke Leto?”

“My father was never his ally,” the child said. “My father is dead and this
old Harkonnen beast has never seen me before.”

The Baron was reduced to stupefied glaring. When he found his voice it was
only to rasp: “Who?”

“I am Alia, daughter of Duke Leto and the Lady Jessica, sister of Duke Paul-
Muad’Dib,” the child said. She pushed herself off the dais, dropped to the floor
of the audience chamber. “My brother has promised to have your head atop his
battle standard and I think he shall.”

“Be hush, child,” the Emperor said, and he sank back into his throne, hand
to chin, studying the Baron.

“I do not take the Emperor’s orders,” Alia said. She turned, looked up at
the old Reverend Mother. “She knows.”

The Emperor glanced up at his Truthsayer. “What does she mean?”

“That child is an abomination!” the old woman said. “Her mother deserves a
punishment greater than anything in history. Death! It cannot come too quickly
for that child or for the one who spawned her!” The old woman pointed a finger
at Alia. “Get out of my mind!”

“T-P?” the Emperor whispered. He snapped his attention back to Alia. “By the
Great Mother!”

“You don’t understand. Majesty,” the old woman said. “Not telepathy. She’s
in my mind. She’s like the ones before me, the ones who gave me their memories.
She stands in my mind! She cannot be there, but she is!”

“What others?” the Emperor demanded. “What’s this nonsense?”

The old woman straightened, lowered her pointing hand. “I’ve said too much,
but the fact remains that this child who is not a child must be destroyed. Long
were we warned against such a one and how to prevent such a birth, but one of
our own has betrayed us.”

“You babble, old woman,” Alia said. “You don’t know how it was, yet you
rattle on like a purblind fool.” Alia closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and
held it.

The old Reverend Mother groaned and staggered.

Alia opened her eyes. “That is how it was,” she said. “A cosmic accident . .
. and you played your part in it.”

The Reverend Mother held out both hands, palms pushing the air toward Alia.

“What is happening here?” the Emperor demanded. “Child, can you truly
project your thoughts into the mind of another?”

“That’s not how it is at all,” Alia said. “Unless I’m born as you, I cannot
think as you.”

“Kill her,” the old woman muttered, and clutched the back of the throne for
support. “Kill her!” The sunken old eyes glared at Alia.

“Silence,” the Emperor said, and he studied Alia. “Child, can you
communicate with your brother?”

“My brother knows I’m here,” Alia said.

“Can you tell him to surrender as the price of your life?”

Alia smiled up at him with clear innocence. “I shall not do that,” she said.

The Baron stumbled forward to stand beside Alia. “Majesty,” he pleaded, “I
knew nothing of –”
“Interrupt me once more, Baron,” the Emperor said, “and you will lose the
powers of interruption . . . forever.” He kept his attention focused on Alia,
studying her through slitted lids. “You will not, eh? Can you read in my mind
what I’ll do if you disobey me?”

“I’ve already said I cannot read minds,” she said, “but one doesn’t need
telepathy to read your intentions.”

The Emperor scowled. “Child, your cause is hopeless. I have but to rally my
forces and reduce this planet to –”

“It’s not that simple,” Alia said. She looked at the two Guildsmen. “Ask
them.”

“It is not wise to go against my desires,” the Emperor said. “You should not
deny me the least thing.”

“My brother comes now,” Alia said. “Even an Emperor may tremble before
Muad’Dib, for he has the strength of righteousness and heaven smiles upon him.”

The Emperor surged to his feet. “This play has gone far enough. I will take
your brother and this planet and grind them to –”

The room rumbled and shook around them. There came a sudden cascade of sand
behind the throne where the hutment was coupled to the Emperor’s ship. The
abrupt flicker-?tightening of skin pressure told of a wide-?area shield being
activated.

“I told you,” Alia said. “My brother comes.”

The Emperor stood in front of his throne, right hand pressed to right ear,
the servo-?receiver there chattering its report on the situation. The Baron moved
two steps behind Alia. Sardaukar were leaping to positions at the doors.

“We will fall back into space and reform,” the Emperor said. “Baron, my
apologies. These madmen are attacking under cover of the storm. We will show
them an Emperor’s wrath, then.” He pointed at Alia. “Give her body to the
storm.”

As he spoke, Alia fled backward, feigning terror: “Let the storm have what
it can take!” she screamed. And she backed into the Baron’s arms.

“I have her, Majesty!” the Baron shouted. “Shall I dispatch her now-
eeeeeeeeeeeh!” He hurled her to the floor, clutched his left arm.

“I’m sorry, Grandfather,” Alia said. “You’ve met the Atreides gom jabbar.”
She got to her feet, dropped a dark needle from her hand.

The Baron fell back. His eyes bulged as he stared at a red slash on his left
palm. “You . . . you . . . ” He rolled sideways in his suspensors, a sagging
mass of flesh supported inches off the floor with head lolling and mouth hanging
open.

“These people are insane,” the Emperor snarled. “Quick! Into the ship. We’ll
purge this planet of every . . . ”

Something sparkled to his left. A roll of ball lightning bounced away from
the wall there, crackled as it touched the metal floor. The smell of burned
insulation swept through the selamlik.

“The shield!” one of the Sardaukar officers shouted. “The outer shield is
down! They . . . ”

His words were drowned in a metallic roaring as the shipwall behind the
Emperor trembled and rocked.

“They’ve shot the nose off our ship!” someone called.

Dust boiled through the room. Under its cover, Alia leaped up, ran toward
the outer door.

The Emperor whirled, motioned his people into an emergency door that swung
open in the ship’s side behind the throne. He flashed a hand signal to a
Sardaukar officer leaping through the dust haze. “We will make our stand here!”
the Emperor ordered.

Another crash shook the hutment. The double doors banged open at the far
side of the chamber admitting wind-?blown sand and the sound of shouting. A
small, black-?robed figure could be seen momentarily against the light — Alia
darting out to find a knife and, as befitted her Fremen training, to kill
Harkonnen and Sardaukar wounded. House Sardaukar charged through a greened
yellow haze toward the opening, weapons ready, forming an arc there to protect
the Emperor’s retreat.

“Save yourself, Sire!” a Sardaukar officer shouted. “Into the ship!”

But the Emperor stood alone now on his dais pointing toward the doors. A
forty-?meter section of the hutment had been blasted away there and the
selamlik’s doors opened now onto drifting sand. A dust cloud hung low over the
outside world blowing from pastel distances. Static lightning crackled from the
cloud and the spark flashes of shields being shorted out by the storm’s charge
could be seen through the haze. The plain surged with figures in combat —
Sardaukar and leaping gyrating robed men who seemed to come down out of the
storm.

All this was as a frame for the target of the Emperor’s pointing hand.

Out of the sand haze came an orderly mass of flashing shapes — great rising
curves with crystal spokes that resolved into the gaping mouths of sandworms, a
massed wall of them, each with troops of Fremen riding to the attack. They came
in a hissing wedge, robes whipping in the wind as they cut through the melee on
the plain.

Onward toward the Emperor’s hutment they came while the House Sardaukar
stood awed for the first time in their history by an onslaught their minds found
difficult to accept.

But the figures leaping from the worm backs were men, and the blades
flashing in that ominous yellow light were a thing the Sardaukar had been
trained to face. They threw themselves into combat. And it was man to man on the
plain of Arrakeen while a picked Sardaukar bodyguard pressed the Emperor back
into the ship, sealed the door on him, and prepared to die at that door as part
of his shield.

In the shock of comparative silence within the ship, the Emperor stared at
the wide-?eyed faces of his suite, seeing his oldest daughter with the flush of
exertion on her cheeks, the old Truthsayer standing like a black shadow with her
hood pulled about her face, finding at last the faces he sought — the two
Guildsmen. They wore the Guild gray, unadorned, and it seemed to fit the calm
they maintained despite the high emotions around them.

The taller of the two, though, held a hand to his left eye. As the Emperor
watched, someone jostled the Guildsman’s arm, the hand moved, and the eye was
revealed. The man had lost one of his masking contact lenses, and the eye stared
out a total blue so dark as to be almost black.

The smaller of the pair elbowed his way a step nearer the Emperor, said: “We
cannot know how it will go.” And the taller companion, hand restored to eye,
added in a cold voice: “But this Muad’Dib cannot know, either.”