Dune: House Atreides (61 page)

Understanding the innards of the Tleilaxu scanner posed a far more difficult problem. C'tair had to work with extreme caution because of the probable existence of a proprietary anti tampering system that could melt down interior parts. He didn't dare take a tool to the scanner and attempt to pry it open.

He would have to use passive methods.

Again he wished the spirit of old Rogo might reappear to provide valuable advice. C'tair felt very much alone in this all-but-forgotten room, and at times had to fight off the temptation to feel sorry for himself. He found strength in the realization that he was doing something extremely important.

The future of Ix might rest on what covert battles he managed to win.

He had to survive and keep his hiding place intact, since his protective cocoon housed the important transspace communicator. Before long, he might also find a way of locating the survivors of House Vernius and render valuable assistance to them. Perhaps he was the only survivor who could liberate his beloved world.

And to protect the shielded room, C'tair needed to figure out the damnable Tleilaxu scanner . . . .

Finally, after days of frustration, he used a sounding device in the hope of creating a reflected schematic of the scanner's interior. To his surprise something clicked. He set the scanner down on the workbench and backed away.

Then, approaching again to examine the device closely, C'tair found that a seam had opened on one side. He applied pressure on each side of the split and pulled.

The scanner opened without exploding or melting down. Before his delighted eyes he discovered not only the guts of the unit, but also a pin-activated holoprojector that caused a User Guide image to appear in the air -- a dapper holo-man happy to explain everything about the scanner.

Helpful and cheery, the User Guide had no concerns about a competitor stealing the technology of the unit, since it depended upon the rare and precious

"Richesian mirror," which no outsider had been able to duplicate. Constructed of unknown minerals and polymers, such mirrors were thought to contain geodome prisms within prisms.

As C'tair studied the scanner, he grudgingly admired its construction, and for the first time suspected Richesian involvement in the plot against Ix. The hatreds were long-standing, and Richesians would have gladly assisted in the destruction of their chief rivals . . . .

Now C'tair had to use his own intuitive knowledge, the scraps of components, and this Richesian mirror to create a disabling device to block the scanner. After repeated queries to the annoyingly solicitous Guide, he began to unravel a solution . . . .

THE EVENING MEETING with the black marketers had been nerve-wracking again, with many frightened glances over his shoulder, but what choice did C'tair have?

Only these illicit traders had been able to procure the few components he needed for his scan-blocker.

Finally, after making his purchases, he returned to the quiet building overhead, using a biometric ID scrambler card to trick the entrance station into thinking he was a Tleilaxu technician. As he rode the lift tube up through the former Grand Palais toward his hiding room, C'tair thought of the numerous drawings he had left scattered across his workbench. He was eager to return to work.

When he stepped out into the corridor, though, C'tair realized he had arrived on the wrong floor. Instead of windowless doors and storage rooms, this level held a number of offices separated by clear plaz. Dull orange night-lights burned in the offices; bold, ominous signs on the doors and windows were written in an unknown Tleilaxu language.

He paused, recognizing the place. He hadn't gone far enough up into the solid rock layers. Once, he thought angrily, these rooms had been conference chambers, ambassadorial offices, meeting rooms for members of the Court of Earl Vernius. Now they looked so . . . so functional.

Before he could retreat, C'tair heard something on his left -- a clank of metal and a scuffing noise -- and ducked back toward the lift tube to return to his own floor. Too late. He'd been seen.

"You there, stranger!" a shadowy man called out in Ixian-accented Galach.

"Come out where we can see you." Probably one of the collaborators -- an Ixian turncoat who had sold his soul to the enemy at the expense of his own people.

Fumbling with his bioscram card, C'tair trembled at hearing the heavy sounds of approaching boots. He swiped the card through the lift-control reader. More voices called out. He expected weapons fire at any moment.

After an interminable instant, the lift tube opened -- but as he dashed through the doorway, C'tair accidentally dropped the bag containing the parts he had just purchased. No time to retrieve it.

With a muttered curse he dived into the lift and ordered the correct floor in a harsh, commanding whisper. Just in time, the door clicked shut, and the sound of voices faded. He worried that the guards might disable the lift or call in Sardaukar -- so he needed to exit quickly. It seemed to take forever to reach his floor.

The door opened, and C'tair peered out carefully, looking right and left. No signs of anyone here. Reaching back into the lift tube, he programmed it to stop at four other floors, then sent it off empty to soar even higher into the crustal passages.

Seconds later, C'tair stood sweating in the sanctuary of his shielded chamber, thankful to have escaped with his life, but angry at himself for his carelessness. He had lost the precious components, and also given the Tleilaxu a clue as to what he had been up to.

Now they would be looking for him specifically.

We all live in the shadows of our predecessors for a time. But we who determine the fate of planets eventually reach the point at which we become not the shadows, but the light itself.

-PRINCE RAPHAEL CORRINO,

Discourses on Leadership

As an official member of the Federated Council of Great and Minor Houses, Duke Leto Atreides embarked on a Heighliner and traveled to Kaitain for the next Landsraad meeting. Wearing his formal mantle off-planet for the first time, he thought he had recovered enough from the loss of his father to make a major public appearance.

After Leto had made his decision to attend, Thufir Hawat and several other Atreides protocol advisors had locked themselves with him in Castle meeting rooms to give him crash courses in diplomacy. The advisors hovered around him like stern teachers, insisting that he be brought up to speed on all the social, economic, and political factors a Duke must take into account. Harsh glowglobes lit the stone-walled room, while a sea breeze drifted in through the open window, bringing with it the sound of crashing waves and screaming gulls.

Despite the distractions, Leto attended to the lectures.

For his turn, the new Duke had insisted that Rhombur sit beside him during the training sessions. "One day he will need to know all these things, when his House is restored," Leto had said. Some advisors had looked skeptical, but they did not argue.

As he departed from Cala City Spaceport, accompanied only by Thufir Hawat as his escort and confidant, Leto's counselors had warned him against rash behavior.

Leto had pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. "I understand," he said, "but my sense of honor drives me to do what I must do."

By ancient tradition it was Leto's right to appear in the Landsraad forum and put forth his demand. A demand for justice. As the new Duke, he had an agenda, and enough anger and youthful naivete to believe he just might succeed, no matter what his advisors might tell him. Sadly, though, he remembered the few times when his father had petitioned the Landsraad; Paulus had always returned home red-faced, expressing scorn and impatience at the bumbling bureaucracy.

But Leto would start fresh, with high hopes.

Under the eternally sunny skies of Kaitain, the massive Landsraad Hall of Oratory stood high and imposing, the tallest peak in a mountain range of legislative edifices and government offices surrounding an ellipsoidal commons.

The Hall had been erected by contributions from all the Houses, each noble family trying to outdo the others in grandeur. Representatives from CHOAM had helped to procure resources from across the Imperium, and only by special order of a former Emperor -- Hassik Corrino III -- had the exorbitant Landsraad construction plans been curtailed, so as not to overshadow the Imperial Palace itself.

Following the nuclear holocaust on Salusa Secundus and the relocation of the Imperium's seat of government, everyone had been anxious to establish an optimistic new order. Hassik III had wanted to show that even after the near obliteration of House Corrino, the Imperium and its business would continue at a more exalted level than ever before.

Banners of the Great Houses rippled like a rainbow of dragon scales along the outer walls of the Landsraad Hall. Standing there in the glittering commons surrounded by towering metal-and-plaz buildings, Leto was hard-pressed to locate the green-and-black flag of House Atreides, but finally found it. The purple-and-copper colors of House Vernius had been taken down and publicly burned.

Thufir Hawat stood beside the young Duke. Leto longed for the presence of his friend Rhombur, but it was not yet safe for the exiled Ixian Prince to leave the sanctuary of Caladan. Dominic Vernius still had not emerged from hiding, even following reports of Shando's death; Leto knew the sharp-eyed man would be mourning in his own way. And plotting revenge . . . .

In any case, Leto would have to do this himself. His father would have expected no less of him. So, under the bright Kaitain sunshine, he squared his shoulders, thought of his family history and all that had occurred since the dark days of Atreus, and fixed his gaze forward. He marched ahead along the flagstoned streets, not allowing himself to feel small in the face of the Landsraad's grandeur.

As they entered the Hall of Oratory in the company of other family representatives, Leto spotted the colors of House Harkonnen, with its pale blue griffin symbol. Just looking at the banners, he could name a few other families: Houses Richese, Teranos, Mutelli, Ecaz, Dyvetz, and Canidar. In the center of all the flags hung the much larger Imperial banner of House Corrino, in striking scarlet and gold with its central lion symbol.

The fanfare surrounding his entrance, and that of the other arriving representatives, was deafening and constant. As the men and a few women entered, a crier announced each person's name and position. Leto saw only a few true nobles; most arrivals were Ambassadors, political leaders, or paid sycophants.

Even though he himself carried a royal title, Leto did not feel powerful or important. After all, what was the Duke of a mid-level House compared with even the prime minister of one of the wealthy families? Though he controlled the economy and population of Caladan and the other holdings of Atreides, many Great Houses held dominion over far more wealth and worlds. He envisioned himself for a moment as a small fish among sharks, then quashed such thoughts before they could diminish his confidence. The Old Duke had never allowed him the luxury of feeling small.

In the enormous Hall he wondered where he might find the empty seats formerly occupied by House Vernius; he took only small satisfaction in knowing that, though they now held Ix, the Bene Tleilax would never receive any such honors.

The Landsraad would not allow despised Tleilaxu representatives into this exclusive club. Normally Leto would have had no patience for such wholesale prejudice, but in this case he made an exception.

As the Council meeting commenced with interminable formalities, Leto took his seat in a plush black-and-maroon booth along one side, similar to those provided for the dignitaries of other Houses. Hawat joined him, and Leto watched the business unfold, eager to learn, ready to do his part. But he had to wait until his name was called.

The real family heads could not be bothered to attend every such meeting, and as a number of trivial matters were heard -- items that dragged on for far longer than was necessary -- Leto soon understood why. Little business was accomplished despite all the talking and arguing and niggling over fine points of protocol or Imperial law.

Newly installed in his title, though, Leto would make this his formal reception.

When the scrolling agenda signaled his turn to speak at long last, the young man crossed the dizzying expanse of polished floor in the cavernous chamber, unaccompanied by the warrior Mentat or any other assistant, and climbed to a central lectern. Trying not to look like a mere teenager, he remembered his father's powerful presence and recalled the cheers as they stood in the arena, holding a bull's-head high.

Gazing across the sea of bored, dignified representatives, Leto took a deep breath. Amplifiers would snatch his words and transmit them so that all listeners could hear; shigawire recordings were made for documentation purposes.

This would be a vital speech for him -- most of these people had no inkling of his personality, and few even knew his name. Realizing that they would form their impression of him from the words he said that day, Leto felt the weight on his shoulders grow even heavier.

He waited to be certain he had everyone's attention, though so late in the Council meeting he doubted anyone had the mental energy required to concentrate on anything new.

"Many of you were friends and allies of my father, Paulus Atreides," he began, then dropped his bombshell, "who was recently murdered through a heinous and cowardly act of assassination." He glanced pointedly over at the seats held by representatives of House Harkonnen. He didn't know the names or titles of the two men there representing the enemy household.

His implication was clear enough, though he made no specific accusation, nor did he have any specific proof. Stablemaster Yresk, who had not survived his interrogation as Leto had requested, had confirmed Helena's complicity, but could give no further details about coconspirators. So the new Duke Atreides simply used his statement to gain the attention of the bored people in the chamber -- and now he certainly had it.