Road to Dune (6 page)

“Carthage dead ahead.” The pilot’s small voice squeaked over the speaker from the bridge. “Prepare for more turbulence as we approach the mountains.”

“Wonderful.” Yueh turned even paler.

Through the oval viewing window, Dorothy watched the city come into view, buildings and cleared areas interspersed among the dark crags. Such an ominous-looking place, expanded and fortified by the Hoskanners during their eighteen-year tenure. Narrow roads ran through gorges and valleys; blocky ledges held dwelling complexes and smaller habitation domes connected by paths and steep steps. Many of the largest buildings were linked by trams and tunnels to the rest of the fortress city. Though Carthage had no major spaceport, several airfields had been blasted into the rocks and then armorpaved, resulting in two main landing zones on opposite sides of the city—one larger than the other.

The pilot circled a flat area near the headquarters mansion. The russet-and-black structures of Carthage peeked around bulwarks of rock. Winds began to buffet the craft in advance of the storm, like a squadron sent in to soften up the enemy before a larger onslaught. The craft lurched and swayed, eliciting another round of miserable groans from Dr. Yueh.

With a resounding, rocking thump, the craft set down in a level region sealed by armorpave, surrounded by sharp cliffs. All around them, local ships and shuttles landed swiftly, eager to outrun the storm … they were like desert hawks rushing back to their nests in the high rocks. Particles of sand pelted the windows.

“We’re home,” Jesse said. “Duneworld looks like a nice, friendly place.”

DOROTHY HARDLY RECOGNIZED the two men who came forward as she and her party entered the central lobby of the receiving building. Dust swirled around their boots, bodysuits, and desert cloaks as they marched across the floor. But her sharp eyes identified the pair from the way they walked and interacted. Dorothy had learned the art of observing small details about people and reading their body languages: It was the only way to achieve success in a society that valued noble blood more than intelligence and wit.

With a flourish, Gurney Halleck swung open his cape, spraying the air with loose dirt. The jongleur’s coarse face beamed impishly as soon as he saw Jesse. “About time you got here, laddie!” Beneath matted pale red hair, his forehead and stubby nose were grimy, but a patch around his mouth remained completely clean, where it had been protected by the mask.

Esmar Tuek kept his own cape closed, and his dark eyes peered over the top edge of the facial seal. “Sorry we didn’t have time to clean up for you, My Lord, but we’ve been out in the desert. Those Hoskanner bastards left us with nothing but junk for spice-harvesting equipment! We need to get some decent machinery in here quickly. At a pretty price, I’m afraid. The Hoskanners have probably rigged the market.”

“Our finances are stretched to the limit,” Dorothy warned. “Anticipating problems, we’ve already ordered more equipment, what little we can afford.”

“Looks like we need to order even more,” Jesse said. “No matter how deep we have to dig into our coffers, we need the right tools for the job, or we can’t do it at all.” He smiled at her. “You’ll find a way.”

“Somehow, I always do.” Countless times, Dorothy had set priorities for House Linkam, tightened the budget, even uncovered new sources of income. Now her mind spun as she considered the enormity of the problem.

Attendants surged forward to assist with unloading their luggage and belongings. Dr. Yueh, still wobbly, finally emerged. He took deep breaths of the dry air and made a face, as if smelling something unpleasant all around him.

The two dusty escorts led the newcomers toward the nearby mansion, along a steep path. Wind from the rising storm found its way through the sheltering crags and tugged at their hair and clothes. Jesse and Dorothy both ducked against the stinging breeze. Their son had run ahead, but she called him back. Reluctantly, the brown-haired boy waited for them to catch up.

“It’s probably best for you to get a face full of grime the first day,” Gurney said. “That’s the way it is here on Duneworld, and we haven’t figured out a way to clean the place up yet. The accursed sand and dust gets into everything. I’ve got the worst rash on my—” Glancing at Dorothy, he left his sentence uncompleted.

She took Barri by the hand as they continued walking. At a disapproving glance from Jesse, she released the boy to walk on his own, a few steps ahead.

“The main spice fields are fifteen hundred klicks from here,” Tuek quickly filled the silence, “but Carthage is the nearest stable and defensible site for a large city and landing zones.”

Gurney nudged Jesse and pointed ahead. “Feast your eyes on your new home, laddie.”

Through a haze of blowing sand, Dorothy barely made out the old headquarters mansion in front of them, a rock-walled fortress that reflected the brutish architectural tastes of the Hoskanners. She thought again of their former home on the Catalan shores, the rustic yet welcoming wood furnishings, the rugs and fireplaces, the cheerful lights. In contrast, this place offered all the creature comforts of great hunks of stone and fused alloy beams.

What have we gotten into?

Immense statues of old Hoskanner family patriarchs lined the entry walk. “Those will have to come down,” she said immediately.

“Old Valdemar won’t like that at all if he comes back here,” Gurney said, grinning more than scowling.

Jesse paused for a long time before he said, “If Valdemar comes back in two years, I will be beyond caring.”

DOROTHY WOKE EARLY the next morning after a night of fitful sleep in a flinty-smelling bedchamber. Sitting up in bed to look at the harsh yellow sunlight bleeding through the shielded window, she noticed that Jesse was no longer beside her, though the sheets on his side of the bed were rumpled.

Detecting that she was awake, a tiny device like a fat bee buzzed in front of her face, and she blew a breath to activate the messager. Jesse’s compressed voice said, “I’m on an inspection tour with Esmar and Gurney. You took so long to get to sleep, Dor, I didn’t want to wake you.”

She smiled at his consideration, but could not allow herself to rest, not on their first full day on Duneworld. Thousands of details demanded her attention for the household to run smoothly.

Barri was already up and bursting with energy. He had dark brown hair that remained unruly despite Dorothy’s efforts to tame it. His nose was round and covered with a thin scatter of freckles easily disguised by the ever-present dust on Duneworld. His bright laughter came easily, especially when he amused himself by discovering interesting facets to even ordinary things.

The smart eight-year-old followed her throughout the morning, asking constant questions, poking into unlabeled boxes, exploring hallways and closed rooms. Dorothy issued instructions to the domestic staff she had brought from Catalan, as well as a handful of Hoskanner holdovers that General Tuek had screened with his usual care. Jesse might trust the old veteran’s precautions, but Dorothy had quietly decided to make her own judgments about the staff. The consequences of an error in this regard were too high, the stakes too enormous.

She took a stone stairway down to the main kitchen. When she entered, the chef was discussing that evening’s meal with two staff members. Piero Zonn had operated a gourmet restaurant on Catalan prior to joining the Linkam entourage; Jesse had brought him along to serve meals in the headquarters mansion, but the small, energetic man seemed at a loss as to how he would do his job properly. Dorothy wanted to reassure him, but she didn’t know herself how many things they would have to sacrifice here.

The chef and his assistants fell silent when they saw her; she was a commoner like them, but they lived in different circles. Nearby, a Carthage-native maid paused while wiping dust from a decorative stone alcove, then resumed her work with renewed vigor. Dorothy felt very much out of place.

Later, as the two of them walked alone through a hall to the upper levels, Barri tugged at his mother’s cool blouse. “What does Odokis mean?”

“Odokis?”

“The star we saw when we came into the system.”

“That’s Arrakis, dear. In ancient astronomy it meant ‘the dancer’ or ‘the trotting camel.’ It’s the sun up in our sky now, on this planet.”

“I’d rather be back on Catalan. I miss my friends.”

“You’ll make new friends here.” In truth, though, Dorothy had noticed few children in Carthage, and the ones she had seen appeared to be street urchins. With a population of convict laborers and freedmen who could not afford passage home, Duneworld was not much of a place to raise a family.

With Jesse already throwing himself into the spice business, Dorothy spent the morning unpacking while Barri continued to explore. An exceedingly curious young man, he invariably pestered his mother when she was busiest or most agitated. But she found reservoirs of patience within herself, knowing that his curiosity was a sign of intelligence.

In the large master suite, she organized a few Linkam mementos, the bare minimum Jesse had permitted her to bring along, due to the weight restrictions on space cargo. The rest of their possessions had been left behind on Catalan. So much of her life remained back there, and not just
things.
Barri looked forlorn each time he realized that some toy or keepsake was far away, and possibly lost forever.

“It’s good to start anew,” she said aloud with a brave smile. While she studied inventory lists, the boy occupied himself by playing with something he had found on the floor in a corner of the large suite.

One of the articles she unpacked was a holophoto of Jesse’s father. Placing it on the mantle of the bedroom fireplace, she activated it to show the heavyset Jabo Linkam in his gaudy faux-military uniform, the attire he had preferred to wear, though he had never served in any army. A sycophant at the Imperial court, the old fool had loved to dress in fancy costumes and throw extravagant balls that he could not afford. In the process, he’d nearly bankrupted House Linkam.

During one such banquet, a crazed chef had attempted to assassinate the father of Valdemar Hoskanner by slipping a powerful toxin into his dessert, a famous Catalanian layer cake. But the delicacy had been one of Jabo’s favorite treats, and he had devoured the dish, not knowing it was poisoned, and it quickly killed him. Only a year later, emboldened by the death of his enemy, sure that House Linkam had been behind the poisoning attempt, young Valdemar had publicly challenged Jesse’s brother, Hugo, to fight in a Hoskanner-sponsored bullfight. Hugo let himself be shamed into participating … and the bull killed him. Sheer stupidity. Thus the youngest Linkam had been left in charge of the Noble House.

As Dorothy studied Jabo’s holophoto, she hoped her beloved Jesse never fell victim to the prideful ways of his star-crossed family.

Dr. Yueh stepped through the open doorway. “Oh, I’m feeling much better today, now that I’ve done some unpacking and started to get organized.” He held up a long, wickedly sharp ceremonial knife in the form of a gilded and gem-encrusted scalpel. “I even found this old thing, from when I received my first medical credentials.” He flashed a self-deprecating smile. “It probably wasn’t worth the cost of shipping, even to this vain old man.”

“I think we can indulge you in this instance, Cullington.”

The old doctor rubbed his hands together briskly. “I’m about to have a late lunch. Care to join me? The nobleman hasn’t returned yet, but I thought you might enjoy a break.”

“Yes, of course. Barri, come with us to the dining hall.” She was surprised at how quiet he had become while sitting crosslegged by a sealed window with his back to her. “What are you doing there?”

Still playing, he looked over his shoulder with a cherubic grin. His blue-green eyes sparkled with fascination. “I have a new friend after all, Mother. Look; it’s like one of the tide pool crabs at home.” He held up his hand to show a jagged-legged creature on his palm. The jet-black arachnid crawled up his bare arm, prowling. He giggled. “That tickles!”

Dr. Yueh’s jaw dropped. “Oh, don’t make any sudden moves!” The old doctor pushed Dorothy back and moved toward the boy. “It’s an indigenous sand scorpion. The sting is deadly!”

With every muscle in her body, Dorothy wanted to leap to her son’s aid, but didn’t dare startle the creature.

Making a sudden move, Yueh slapped the scorpion from Barri’s arm. The creature struck a settee near Dorothy, fell to the floor, and rolled into a black, defensive ball. She stepped on it hard, grinding with her heel. Though it was smashed and dead, she stomped on the sand scorpion again and again.

“That’s all right,” Yueh said soothingly as he pulled the boy away, but Barri struggled to get free, his eyes full of tears.

Drawing her son to her bosom, Dorothy said, “This is a dangerous place. You must not play with the creatures you find here. Even Dr. Yueh could not have saved you from a scorpion sting.”

Barri glared at her for killing his new pet. “Cullington could have figured out an ant’dote.”

The old doctor patted the boy on the head. “Let’s not test my abilities, all right?”

5

The living always stand on the shoulders of the dead. It is the nature of human advancement.

—A SAYING OF OLD EARTH

J
esse called a staff meeting on the top floor of the headquarters mansion. The plaz-windowed conference chamber was insulated against Duneworld’s unrelenting sun. Through the plaz, he had a view in all directions: the desert, the crags, the spaceport landing zones, and the scattered buildings of Carthage.

Although the alloy-paneled room had been swept clean and scrubbed that day by household staff, a layer of gritty dust already covered the furniture and floor. Jesse smeared a finger across the table surface, looked at the mark. Such conditions would be his constant companion for some time.

Esmar Tuek and Gurney Halleck entered the room with the new spice foreman, William English. A houseman in a short brown cloak brought a steaming pot of spice coffee with four cups and then departed, closing the door behind him.