Dune: House Atreides (34 page)

"Comcommand says the suboids are rebelling on all levels," Zhaz said in a tone of disbelief. "They're screaming 'Jihad' as they attack."

"Vermilion hells!" Rhombur said. "What does the Jihad have to do with anything? What could it have to do with us?"

"We need to leave the window, sir," Zhaz insisted, tugging at Rhombur's sleeve.

"We have to make it to the rendezvous point."

Rhombur lurched back from the window as part of a tiled street collapsed behind it, and wave upon wave of the pale suboids scrambled out of the dark tunnels beneath.

The railcar picked up speed along the track and curved left into darkness, then ascended again. Rhombur nodded to himself, his face pinched and distressed.

"We've got secret command centers on the upper levels. Precautions have been taken for this sort of thing, and by now our military units will have surrounded the most vital manufacturing facilities. It shouldn't take long to subdue this." The Earl's son sounded as if he were trying to convince himself.

At the front of the car, Zhaz leaned intently over the comboard, which cast his face in pale light. "Look out -- trouble ahead, sir!" He wrenched the controls. The railcar rocked, and Zhaz took a side track. The other two guards brought their weapons to bear, squinting into the rocky darkness all around them, ready to fire.

"Unit Four has been overrun," Captain Zhaz said. "Suboids broke through the sidewalls. I'm trying for Three instead!"

"Overrun?" Rhombur said, and his face flushed with either embarrassment or fear. "How in the hells could suboids do that?"

"Comcommand says Tleilaxu are involved -- and some of their Face Dancers.

They're all heavily armed." He gasped as he stared at the reports flowing in.

"May God protect us!"

Questions fell in an avalanche around Leto. Tleilaxu? Why would they attack Ix? Jihad? This is a machine planet . . . and the Tleilaxu are religious fanatics. Do they fear Ixian machines enough to use their tank-grown shapeshifters to infiltrate the suboid workforce? That would explain the coordination. But why would they be so interested? Why here?

As the railcar soared along, Zhaz scrutinized the comboard, where he received battle reports. "By all the saints and sinners! Tleilaxu engineers have just blown the pipelines that feed heat from the molten core of the planet."

"But we need that energy to run the factories," Rhombur cried, still hanging on to his seat.

"They've also destroyed recycling lines where the industrial waste and exhaust chemicals are dumped into the mantle." Now the captain's voice sounded more ragged. "They're hitting at the heart of Ix -- paralyzing our manufacturing capacity."

As Leto thought back on what he had learned during his months on this planet, pieces of the puzzle began fitting together in his mind. "Think about it," he said, "all of that can be fixed. They knew exactly where to hit in order to cripple Ix without causing permanent damage . . . ." Leto gave a grim nod, the reason suddenly clear to him. "The Tleilaxu want this world and its facilities intact. They plan to take over here."

"Don't be ridiculous, Leto. We'd never give Ix to the filthy Tleilaxu."

Rhombur looked perplexed more than miffed.

"We may not . . . have any choice in the matter, sir," Zhaz said.

At Rhombur's barked command for weapons one of the guards opened a cabinet beneath the railcar and brought out a pair of flechette pistols and shield belts, which he handed to both Princes.

Without questioning, Leto snapped on the belt, touched a test button to confirm that the unit was operational. The projectile weapon felt cold in his hand. He checked its clip of deadly darts, accepted two additional packs from the guard, and slid them into compartments on the shield belt.

The escape pod thundered into a long, dark tunnel. Ahead, Leto saw light, which grew larger and brighter by the second. He remembered what his father had said to him about the Tleilaxu: "They destroy anything that resembles a thinking machine." Ix would have been a natural target for them.

The light ahead touched them now, dazzling his eyes, and they roared into it.

Religion and law among the masses must be one and the same. An act of disobedience must be a sin and require religious penalties. This will have the dual benefit of bringing both greater obedience and greater bravery. We must depend not so much on the bravery of individuals, you see, as upon the bravery of a whole population.

-PARDOT KYNES, address to gathered representatives of the greater sietches Oblivious to the fate that had been decided for him, Pardot Kynes strolled through the tunnels, accompanied by his now-faithful companions Ommun and Turok.

The three went to visit Stilgar, who rested and healed in his family chambers.

At first sight of his visitor, a lean Stilgar sat forward on his sickbed.

Though his wound should have been fatal, the Fremen youth had almost entirely recovered in a short time. "I owe you the water of my life, Planetologist," he said, and with great seriousness spat upon the floor of the cave.

Kynes was startled for a moment, then thought he understood. He knew the importance of water to these people, especially the precious moisture contained within a person's body. For Stilgar to sacrifice even a droplet of saliva showed him a great honor. "I . . . appreciate your water, Stilgar," Kynes said with a forced smile. "But you may keep the rest of it for now. I want you to be well."

Frieth, Stilgar's quiet sister, stayed by the young man's bedside, always busy, her blue-in-blue eyes darting from side to side in search of something else to do. She looked long at Kynes, as if assessing him, but her expression was unreadable. Then she silently glided off to bring more unguents that would speed her brother's healing.

Later, as Kynes walked along the sietch passageways, curious people gathered to follow him and listen. In the midst of their daily routines, this tall, stubble-bearded Planetologist continued to be something new and interesting.

His crazy but visionary words might sound ridiculous, the most preposterous of fantasies, but even the sietch's children tagged along after the stranger.

The bemused and talkative crowd accompanied Kynes as he lectured, gesturing with his hands, gazing at the ceiling as if he could see the open sky there. Though they tried, these Fremen could not imagine the sight of clouds gathering to pour rain upon the desert. Droplets of moisture falling from the empty sky? Absurd!

Some of the children laughed at the very idea of rain on Dune, but Kynes kept talking, explaining the steps of his process to reap the faintest breath of water vapor from the air. He would collect every sparkle of dew in the shadows to help twist Arrakis in the way he required, to pave the way for a brilliant new ecology.

"You must think of this world in engineering terms," Kynes said, in a professorial tone. He was happy to have such an attentive audience, though he wasn't sure how much they understood. "This planet, taken in its entirety, is merely an expression of energy, a machine driven by its sun." He lowered his voice and looked down at a young, wide-eyed girl. "What it requires is reshaping to fit our needs. We have the ability to do that on . . . Dune. But do we have the self-discipline and the drive?"

He lifted his gaze to someone else. "That is up to us."

By now Ommun and Turok had heard most of Kynes's lectures. Although they had scoffed at first, eventually the words had sunk in. Now, the more they heard of his unbridled enthusiasm and bright honesty, the more they actually began to believe. Why not dream? Judging from the expressions on the faces of his listeners, they could see that other Fremen had started to consider the possibilities as well.

The sietch elders called these converts optimistic and overly gullible.

Undaunted, Kynes continued to spread his ideas, as outrageous as they might seem.

WEARING A GRIM expression, Naib Heinar squinted his one eye and extended the holy crysknife, still sheathed. The strong warrior standing rigid in front of him held out his hands to receive the gift.

The Naib intoned ritual words. "Uliet, older Liet, you have been chosen for this task for the good of our sietch. You have proven yourself many times in battle against the Harkonnens. You are an accomplished worm rider and one of the greatest fighters among the Fremen."

A man of middle years and craggy features, Uliet bowed. His hands remained outstretched. He waited and did not flinch. Though a deeply religious man, he held his awe in check.

"Take this consecrated crysknife, Uliet." Heinar now grasped the carved hilt and yanked the long milky white blade from its sheath. The crysknife was a sacred relic among the Fremen, fashioned from the crystal tooth of a sandworm.

This particular blade was fixed, keyed to the body of its owner so that the weapon would dissolve upon his death.

"Your blade has been dipped in the poisonous Water of Life, and blessed by Shai-Hulud," Heinar continued. "As is our tradition, the sacred blade must not be sheathed again until it has tasted blood."

Uliet took the weapon, suddenly overwhelmed by the importance of the task for which he had been selected. Intensely superstitious, he had watched the great worms in the desert and had ridden atop them many times. But never had he allowed himself to become familiar with the magnificent creatures. He could not forget that they were the manifestations of the great creator of the universe.

"I shall not fail the will of Shai-Hulud." Uliet accepted the blade and held it up high, with its poisoned tip pointed away from him.

The other elders stood behind the one-eyed Naib, firm in their decision. "Take two watermen with you," Heinar said, "to collect the water of this Planetologist and use it for the good of our sietch."

"Perhaps we should take a small amount and plant a bush in his honor," said Aliid, but no one seconded the suggestion.

Out of the stone-walled chamber Uliet walked tall and proud, a warrior of the Fremen. He did not fear this Planetologist, though the outsider spoke fervently of his wild and preposterous plans, as if he were guided by a holy vision. A shudder went up the assassin's spine.

Uliet narrowed his deep blue eyes and forced such thoughts from his mind as he strode down the shadowed passageways. Two watermen followed him, bearing empty literjons for collecting Kynes's blood, and absorbent cloths to soak up every drop that might spill on the stone floor.

The Planetologist was not difficult to find. An entourage trailed him, their faces filled with either awe or skepticism tinged with wonder. Towering over the others, Kynes walked an aimless path, lecturing as he went, waving his arms.

His flock scuttled after him at a wary distance, sometimes asking questions, but more often just listening.

"The human question is not how many can survive within the system," Kynes was saying as Uliet approached, the crysknife plain in his hand, his mission clear on his face, "but what kind of existence is possible for those who do survive."

Moving forward, unwavering, Uliet stepped through the fringes of the crowd. The Planetologist's listeners saw the assassin and his knife. They stepped away and looked at each other knowingly, some with disappointment, some with fear. They fell silent. This was the way of the Fremen people.

Kynes didn't notice at all. With one finger he made a circle in the air. "Open water is possible here, with a slight but viable change. We can do this if you help me. Think of it -- walking in the open without a stillsuit." He pointed at two of the children closest to him. They backed away shyly. "Just imagine: so much moisture in the air that you no longer need to wear stillsuits."

"You mean we could even have water in a pond that we might dip out and drink anytime we wish?" one of the skeptical observers said, his voice sarcastic.

"Certainly. I've seen it on many worlds, and there's no reason we can't do it on Dune, too. With windtraps, you can grab the water from the air and use it to plant grasses, shrubs, anything that will lock the water in cells and root systems and keep it there. In fact, beside those open ponds one could even have orchards with sweet, juicy fruit for the picking."

Uliet stepped forward in a trance of determination. The accompanying watermen behind him held back; they would not be needed until after the killing was finished.

"What kind of fruit?" a girl asked.

"Oh, any kind you like," Kynes said. "We'd have to pay attention to soil conditions and moisture first. Grapes, perhaps, on the rocky slopes. I wonder what an Arrakeen vintage wine would taste like . . . ." He smiled. "And round orange fruits, portyguls. Ah, I like those! My parents used to have a tree on Salusa Secundus. Portyguls have a hard leathery rind, but you peel it away.

Inside, the fruit is in sections, sweet and juicy, and the brightest color of orange you could ever imagine."

Uliet saw only a red haze. His assignment burned in his brain, obscuring all else from his vision. Naib Heinar's orders echoed in his skull. He walked into the empty area where the people had drawn back to listen to the Planetologist's rantings. Uliet tried not to hear the dreams, tried not to think of the visions Kynes summoned. Clearly this man was a demon, sent to warp the minds of his listeners . . . .

Uliet stared fixedly ahead, while Kynes continued to wander down the corridor, taking no notice. With broad gestures he described grasslands, canals, and forests. He painted pictures in their imaginations. The Planetologist licked his lips as if he could already taste the wine from Dune.

Uliet stepped in front of him and raised the poisoned crysknife.

In the middle of a sentence, Kynes suddenly noticed the stranger. As if annoyed at the distraction, he blinked once and simply said, "Remove yourself," as he brushed past Uliet and continued to talk.

"Ah, forests! Green and lush as far as the eye can see, covering hills and swales and broad valleys. In ancient times, sand encroached on plants and destroyed them, but it will be the reverse on the new Dune: The wind will carry seeds across the planet, and more trees and other plants will grow, like children."