Dune: House Atreides (33 page)

Shaddam wondered what he himself would look like after 150 years . . .

preferably at the end of a long and glorious reign. He fought back a smile and held his breath during the examination. Beside him, Fenring remained calm and aloof. Only the Chamberlain scowled.

The doctor withdrew his scanner, then studied the Imperial patient's case-history cube. Presently he announced to the groggy old man, "Even melange can't keep you young forever, Sire. At your age, health naturally begins to decline.

Sometimes rapidly."

Inaudibly, Shaddam released a sigh of relief.

With great difficulty Elrood sat up, and his concubines propped tasseled pillows behind him. His cadaverous, parchment face creased in a deep frown. "But only a few months ago I felt so much better."

"Aging is not a perfect downhill graph. There are peaks and valleys, recoveries and slowdowns." The doctor had the audacity to use a know-it-all tone that implied the Emperor could not understand such complex concepts. "The human body is a chemical and bioelectric soup, and changes are often triggered by seemingly inconsequential events. You have been under stress lately?"

"I'm the Emperor!" Elrood snapped, this time responding as if the Suk were unbearably stupid. "I have many responsibilities. Of course this causes stress."

"Then start to delegate more to the Crown Prince and to your trusted aides, such as Fenring over there. You're not going to live forever, you know. Not even an Emperor can do that. Plan for the future." Smugly, the doctor snapped shut his case. Shaddam wanted to embrace him. "I will leave you with a prescription and devices to make you feel better."

"The only prescription I want is more spice in my beer." Elrood took a deep drink from his mug, slurping loudly.

"As you wish," the scrawny Suk doctor said. From the suspensor pod he removed a satchel, which he placed on a side table. "These are muscle-soothing devices, in case you need them. Instructions are contained with each unit. Have your concubines use them on your aches."

"All right, all right," Elrood said. "Now leave me. I have work to do."

Dr. Yungar backed down the steps from the bed platform with a bow. "With your permission, Sire."

Impatiently, the Emperor waved a gnarled hand in dismissal. The concubines moved about, whispering to each other, watching with wide eyes. Two of them picked up muscle-soothing devices and toyed with the controls.

Shaddam whispered to one of the attendants to have the doctor go with Chamberlain Hesban, who would arrange for the transfer of payment. Hesban obviously wanted to stay in the bedchamber and discuss certain documents, treaties, and other state matters with the sick old man, but Shaddam -- feeling he could take care of such things himself -- wanted the dour advisor out of the way.

When the Suk was gone, old Elrood said to his son, "Perhaps the doctor is right, Shaddam. There is a matter I wish to discuss with you and Hasimir. A policy and project I wish to continue, regardless of my personal health. Have I told you about our plans on Ix, and the eventual Tleilaxu takeover?"

Shaddam rolled his eyes. Of course, you old fool! Fenring and I have already done most of the work. It was our idea to send Tleilaxu Face Dancers to Ix, because they could disguise themselves and infiltrate the working classes.

"Yes, Father. We know of the plans."

Elrood waved a hand to beckon them closer, and the old man's features darkened.

Out of the corner of his eye, Shaddam saw Fenring chase the hovering concubines away, then approach to hear the Emperor's words. "This morning I received a cipher from our operatives on Ix. You know about the enmity between myself and Earl Dominic Vernius?"

"Ah, yes -- we do, Father," Shaddam said. He cleared his throat. "An old affront, a stolen woman . . ."

Elrood's rheumy eyes brightened. "It seems that our brash Dominic has been playing with fire, training his men with mobile fighting meks that scan opponents and process data, probably through a computer brain. He has also been selling these 'intelligent machines' on the black market."

"Sacrilege, Sire," Fenring murmured. "That clearly goes against the strictures of the Great Convention."

"Quite so," Elrood agreed, "and this isn't the only infraction. House Vernius has been developing sophisticated cyborg enhancements as well. Mechanical body replacements. We can use that to our advantage."

Shaddam frowned, leaning closer and smelling the sour spice beer on the old man's breath. "Cyborgs? But they are human minds attached to robot bodies, and therefore not in violation of the Jihad."

Elrood smiled. "But we understand there have been certain . . . compromises.

True or not, it's exactly the sort of excuse our impostors need to finish the job -- the time to act is now. House Vernius is poised on the brink of destruction, and a small nudge will topple them."

"Hmm-m-ah, that is interesting," Fenring said. "Then the Tleilaxu can take over the sophisticated Ixian facilities for their research."

"This is very important, and you will watch how I handle this situation," Elrood said with a sniff. "Watch, and learn. Already I have set my plan in motion.

Ixian suboid workers are, shall we say, troubled by these developments, and we are . . ." the Emperor paused to finish his mug of spice beer with a smack of his lips, " . . . encouraging their discontent through our own representatives."

Setting down the empty mug, Elrood grew suddenly lethargic. He adjusted his pillows, shifted onto his back, and fell into a fitful sleep.

Exchanging a knowing glance with Fenring, Shaddam thought of the conspiracy within the conspiracy -- their own secret participation in the events on Ix, and how he and Fenring had put the Tleilaxu Master in contact with Elrood in the first place. Now the Bene Tleilax, employing their own genetically altered shape-shifters, were stirring up religious fervor and discontent among Ix's lower classes. To the fanatical Tleilaxu, any hint of a thinking machine -- and the Ixians who created them -- was the work of Satan.

As the two young men left the Emperor's chamber, Fenring smiled with similar thoughts. "Watch, and learn," the old fool had said.

Elrood, you condescending bastard, you have much to learn yourself -- and no time left in which to learn it.

The leaders of the Butlerian Jihad did not adequately define artificial intelligence, failing to foresee all possibilities of an imaginative society.

Therefore, we have substantial gray areas in which to maneuver.

-Confidential Ixian Legal Opinion

Though the explosion was distant, the concussion rocked the table where Leto and Rhombur sat studying sample resource ledgers. Small chunks of decorative plascrete trickled from the ceiling above them, where a long crack had just appeared. A jagged lightning bolt zigzagged across one of the broad plaz observation windows, fracturing it.

"Vermilion hells! What was that?" Rhombur said.

Leto had already surged to his feet, knocking the ledgers aside and looking for the source of the explosion. He saw the farside of the underground grotto, where several badly damaged buildings crumbled into rubble. The two young men exchanged blank looks.

"Get ready," Leto said, instantly on guard.

"Uh, ready for what?"

Leto didn't know.

They had gone together into one of the tutorial rooms of the Grand Palais, first studying Calculus Philosophy and the underpinnings of the Holtzman Effect, and then Ixian manufacturing and distribution systems. On the walls around them, ancient paintings hung in hermetically sealed frames, including works of the Old Terran masters Claude Monet and Paul Gauguin, with interactive plates that allowed enhancements by Ixian depth artists. Since Leto had reported his adventure down in the suboid tunnels, he had heard of no further discussions or investigations. Perhaps the Earl hoped the problem would just go away.

Another concussion rocked the room, this one closer, stronger. The Prince of Ix gripped the table to keep it from toppling. Leto rushed over to the cracked window. "Rhombur, look out here!"

From the crosswalk streets connecting the stalactite buildings, someone screamed. Off to the left, an out-of-control transport capsule plummeted to smash into the ground far below with a spray of crystal shards and mutilated passengers.

The door to the tutorial room crashed open. Captain Zhaz of the Palace Guard burst in, carrying one of the new pulsed assault lasguns. Four subordinates followed him, all armed in the same fashion, all wearing the silver-and-white uniforms of House Vernius. No one on Ix, especially not the Earl himself, had ever thought Leto or Rhombur would need the protection of personal bodyguards.

"Come with us, young masters!" Zhaz said, breathing hard. The man's dark eyes, framed by his squarish brown beard, darted with excitement as he noted the stone fragments falling from the ceiling, then the cracked windowplaz. Though he was ready to fight to the death, Zhaz clearly didn't understand what had taken place in the normally peaceful city of Vernii.

"What's happening, Captain?" Rhombur asked, as the retinue of guards hustled them out of the room and into the corridor, where the lights flickered. His voice quavered for a moment, then sounded stronger, like an Earl's heir should.

"Tell me-is my family safe?"

Other guards and members of the Ixian court ran helter-skelter, with excited shouts ringing out, high-pitched and strident, in counterpoint to yet another explosion. From far below came the hubbub of an angry mob, so distant it sounded like a deep murmur. Then Leto made out the buzzing hum of lasgun fire.

Even before the captain answered Rhombur, Leto guessed the source of the disturbance.

"There's trouble with the suboids, my Lords!" Zhaz shouted. "Don't worry, though -- we'll have it under control soon." He touched a button on his belt, and a previously unseen door opened in the marble-mirrored wall. The captain and the household guard had drilled and prepared for so long against large-scale external attacks, they didn't seem to know how to deal with a revolt from within. "This way to safety. I'm sure your family will be there waiting for you."

When the two young men ducked under the low half door behind the mirrors, the portal sealed shut behind them. In the yellow light of emergency glowglobes, Leto and Rhombur ran alongside an electromagnetic track, while the captain of the guard shouted frantically into a tiny handheld comceiver. Lavender light flashed from the face of the instrument, and Leto heard the metallic sound of a responding voice: "Help is on the way!"

Seconds later an armored personnel car roared along the sheltered track and screeched to a stop. Zhaz boarded with the two young heirs and a pair of guards, leaving the rest of the security men behind to defend their exit. Leto tumbled into a bucket seat, while Zhaz and Rhombur clambered into the front.

The railcar began to move.

"Suboids blew two of the diamond columns," Zhaz said, breathlessly consulting the lavender screen of his comceiver. "Part of the overhead crust has collapsed." His face turned gray with disbelief, and he scratched his brown beard. "This is impossible."

Leto, who had seen the signs of the gathering storm all along, knew that the situation was probably even worse than the guard captain imagined. Ix's troubles would not be solved within an hour.

A metallic-voiced report clattered in, sounding desperate. "Suboids are boiling up from the lower levels! How did . . . how could they become so organized?"

Rhombur cursed, and Leto looked knowingly at his stocky friend. He had tried to warn the Ixians, but he did not point out the fact. House Vernius had not been willing to consider the seriousness of the situation.

In the railcar, a safety harness snapped into place over Leto as soon as he situated himself, and the car continued to accelerate with a smooth hum, traveling at high speed upward into caverns hidden in the rock ceiling. Captain Zhaz worked a comboard at the front of the compartment, his fingers dancing over the communication keys. A blue glow surrounded his hands. At his side, Rhombur watched the guard captain intently, as if knowing he might be expected to take charge.

"We're in an escape pod," one of the secondary guards explained to Leto. "You two are safe, for now. The suboids won't be able to penetrate our upper defenses, once we have them activated."

"But what about my parents?" Rhombur asked. "And Kailea?"

"We've got a plan for this, an option. You and your family should all meet at a rendezvous point. By all the saints and sinners, I hope my people remember what to do. For the first time, it isn't a drill."

The car made several track changes, clicking and humming along with increased speed, and then ascended steeply into darkness. Presently the track leveled off and the vehicle was bathed in light as it sped past an immense window wall of one-way armor-plat. They caught just a glimpse of the riots down below: flares of spontaneous fires and swirling demonstrations going on beneath the city.

Another explosion, and one of the transparent upper walkway tubes shattered, tumbling in shards to the floor of the cavern far below; tiny puppetlike figures of pedestrians flailed and fell to their doom.

"Stop here, Captain!" Rhombur cried. "I need to see what's happening out there."

"Please, sir, keep it to a few seconds," the captain said. "The rebels could breach that wall."

Leto found it hard to comprehend what he was hearing. Rebels? Explosions?

Emergency evacuations? Ix had seemed so sophisticated, so peaceful, so . . .

protected from discord. Even dissatisfied with their lot, how could the suboids have orchestrated such a massive and coordinated assault? Where could they have gotten the resources?

Through the one-way panel, Leto saw uniformed Vernius soldiers fighting a losing battle against swarms of the pale, smooth-skinned opponents down on the grotto floor. The suboids hurled crudely made explosive or incendiary devices, while Ixians cut the mobs down with purple beams of lasgun fire.