The words cut her like a dagger. “I am true to you, Leto. How could you ever doubt that?”
“I never thought I would, but I now realize that many things were happening right before me that I was too foolish to notice. I will go to Kaitain. You will remain here.”
“But I have no discretion in the matter. You must understand, this is not my choice.”
She could see him visibly wrestling with his anger. “Then you are choosing the Sisterhood over your own family. You make it plain that the schemes of the Bene Gesserit are more important to you than I am. If that is true, then go. You are a liability to House Atreides. It shames me that I was manipulated yet again—and for so many years.”
Jessica’s hand shook involuntarily, and she forced calm upon herself. “Leto, you misunderstand. My loyalty to you is unchanged. I love you and Paul dearly. I do not love the Sisterhood, but I have sworn obligations to them. Of all people, you should understand duty.” She drew a hitching breath. “Out of a sense of honor, I have to obey the Mother Superior’s orders.”
Leto’s face was unreadable, and he walled his anger inside himself, which she found all the more frightening. He said, “Do you remember the day when Reverend Mother Mohiam first presented you to me? I was suspicious of you even then.”
Jessica swallowed hard. “You put a knife to my throat.”
“I did. I was sure it was Bene Gesserit treachery. You were forced upon me when I was already involved with Kailea, when I already had a son with her.” He placed his hands on the table. “Because of you, my relationship with her fell apart, and her poisonous jealousy led to what happened to Victor. Was that intentional? Part of your instructions from the damned Sisterhood?”
She gasped. “No, Leto! It just … happened.”
“Truly? With all of your years of training and your polished Bene Gesserit skills, you worked your way into my household, destroyed my relationship, and it ‘just happened’? After Victor died and Kailea threw herself from the tower, it took me years to learn to trust and love you.” He looked away, shaking his head. “You know honor and loyalty are the core of House Atreides. Now I see that your true loyalty lies elsewhere.” His voice cracked, just a little. “Was it all just some Sisterhood scheme? Everything?”
“No.” She wanted to scream her answer, to beg him to believe her, but she also knew Leto well enough to understand that no answer would be sufficient.
Desperate, she dredged deep and found a fact that he did not know, something she had never told him. Something he could never know. She might use that now as evidence of her love, an ultimate gambit. The Sisterhood had commanded her to bear only Atreides daughters, to dance to the strings of their breeding program. But after Victor’s death, she had seen how devastated Leto was, how deeply he needed healing, and she had given him another son instead. Paul. That had been her first defiance, and the Bene Gesserit would never forget it.
Nothing short of complete obedience would be acceptable now. The Sisterhood would get what they demanded, or they would destroy her beloved Leto and his entire noble house.
Jessica realized he was still waiting for an answer.
She could not tell him.
His face was carved in stone. “I see you are still keeping secrets from me. Maybe that’s all you are at your core—secrets. We see things very differently, you and I.” He turned back to his work, ignoring her.
Jessica retreated, using Bene Gesserit techniques to shore up her dignity, to control her emotions. But inside, her heart had shattered into a million pieces.
For a strong person, defeat is merely a matter of perspective. What some would consider a setback, others view as inspiration. Thus, I have been “inspired” many times.
—JAXSON ARU, A New Dawn for the Noble Commonwealth
From a small camouflaged craft in high orbit, Jaxson Aru looked down at the blue-green expanse of oceans and untouched wilderness of Caladan. As he waited impatiently for the delayed cargo shuttle, he thought again that this planet should be free and independent. All worlds in the Imperium must be allowed to determine their own political futures, control their own economies and commercial alliances, without being entangled in a suffocating Imperial net.
Duke Leto Atreides did not recognize or appreciate the potential he controlled as ruler of a world with so many resources. Jaxson had held such high hopes for the man and saw a kindred spirit. He liked Leto. The Duke did not seem to be a political patsy, but apparently, he was not a visionary either. Disappointing.
Leto defended Caladan like a loyal guard dog, but he did not see the larger perspective. Jaxson fumed at how the man had rebuffed his offer, at least for the time being, but that might change. He would give it time. In certain things, the rebel leader could be patient.
Could Leto Atreides really be so weak and afraid? Or would he see the great things he could accomplish if he made the right decision, one that would go down in galactic history and help change the course of civilization?
Pacing the open deck in his frigate, Jaxson glanced at the Ixian chronometer and frowned once more. His ship was a private customized vessel, obtained through CHOAM channels, with an inert exterior hull that turned the ship into a mere scan shadow, a ghostlike image that could easily go unnoticed. He had used his mother’s techniques to book secret passage from the Spacing Guild by leveraging his CHOAM connections.
Although Malina Aru had disowned him in the Landsraad Hall, and his brother and sister were publicly outraged by his troublesome violence, Jaxson knew they understood the worth of what he was doing, even though they couldn’t admit it. He did not believe his mother had entirely ostracized him. Since he was an outlaw, though, he stayed away from her.
For now.
Below, Caladan seemed such a perfect world, so different from seismically active Tupile. He had smelled the fresh ocean air down there, heard the rush of waves, the cries of seabirds. He’d stood in the majestic primeval wilderness absorbing the power of nature and burgeoning life. Caladan had enormous prospects, just like so many planets that were oppressed by the Corrinos. Under a new Noble Commonwealth, they would be a million independent economies, a million trading partners rather than consolidated under one autocratic and bloated despot, strangled by tariffs and surtaxes.
He looked through the plaz viewing window, and his impatience began to transition to anger. Where was that damned cargo shuttle?
Jaxson wished he could have spent more days on Caladan strolling through the rustic capital city, or exploring the seas and forests. This planet reminded him of pleasant times on Otorio with his father, before Shaddam had violated the place, destroying the sacred Aru olive grove and paving over it.…
Eventually, Jaxson would meet with Leto Atreides again and make his case one more time, now that the Duke had been able to ponder the possibilities. Jaxson had seen something in Leto’s eyes, sensed that there was still a chance to make the man see reason and opportunity. Perhaps his non-reply could be turned into a positive response. Why would Duke Leto not plan for a better future than the stagnation of the Imperium? Jaxson would not give up hope.
Finally, he saw an orange streak of afterburners like a fingernail scratch against the edge of the atmosphere. The engines of the cargo shuttle had been invisible in the cloudy skies, but now Jaxson knew where to look.
Up front, his pilot’s voice was gruff. “Target ship scheduled to dock within fifteen minutes, sir. They report a diminished crew and request our assistance in moving the cargo.”
“Whatever is necessary to achieve the final result,” Jaxson said. Four loyal converts were with him on board, security guards who were also hatchet men, fixers, observers. They were perfectly capable of lifting heavy packages. “We do what we must,” he muttered.
After the other ship matched orbital velocity with Jaxson’s frigate, the hulls maneuvered together. The second craft had similar camouflage coating, which had also been provided by his own connections. The work of the Noble Commonwealth was intertwined—even
his mother knew that. She would approve of what he was doing here on Caladan, as would his father, if he were still alive.
The hatches locked together, and the seals engaged. Jaxson folded his arms over his roughspun blue shirt, which he had bought on Caladan during his last trip. He looked like a local.
His companions joined him at the hatch, ready to begin transferring the cargo into his private hold. The bulkhead door opened, and Jaxson faced the small-statured Tleilaxu man in gray robes. Chaen Marek looked disheveled and bruised, his expression erratic.
Jaxson could not contain his surprise. “Marek! You never come personally to make a mere delivery. Is it safe to leave your operations on Caladan?”
“My compound was just wiped out,” the Tleilaxu said as he boarded the stealth frigate. “Duke Leto’s strike on our barra fields was swifter and more destructive than I anticipated. I gave him severe warnings to leave my business alone, and I thought he would heed the threat. You said you considered him a reasonable man!” Marek’s thin voice dripped with accusation.
Jaxson didn’t like the other man’s tone. He had already received some reports, but he assumed they were exaggerated. Now he shook his head. “I listened to his speech to the public. You provoked him by planting real bombs that killed innocent townspeople and nearly injured his son. Your people were willing to create a lasgun-shield explosion. That goes against all civilized rules. How did you expect him to react?”
“Imperial rules,” the Tleilaxu muttered bitterly. “As you yourself would point out.”
“Human rules,” Jaxson said. “It was uncalled for.” He lowered his voice. “At least I only used inactive bombs as a threat against Leto.”
The Tleilaxu snapped his head back in disbelief. “‘Against all civilized rules’? After you obliterated the entire museum city on Otorio?”
“I made my point, and I did not break any rules of the Great Convention.” Jaxson raised his eyebrows, looking at the little Tleilaxu man. “You are a mess.”
In a huff, Marek said, “I barely made it out alive. Luckily, we had prepared for takeoff, and had a full cargo of ailar, but our main operations are destroyed, all the barra fields ruined. It is a great setback.” His black, close-set eyes flickered back and forth. “Why are you not more upset?”
Although Jaxson was discouraged by the defeat, he looked at the larger picture. “Because if we let Duke Leto have free rein like a wild horse, he will be ours in the long run.”
“In the long run, we will not survive if we have no supplies, equipment, or product. How will you fund our rebellion without ailar? We greatly expanded our market for the Caladan drug, and the Emperor’s spice surtax inadvertently drove more customers to us. But if we have no more ferns…”
“The Noble Commonwealth has other financial resources,” Jaxson said. “And the cargo you brought will tide us over. I have a tight-knit network of addicted users. I will inform them of our losses and increase the price accordingly, but not so much that they go back to using melange.” His brow furrowed. “But I am displeased with the number of deaths reported among users. Far more than you estimated. What was your mistake with the new strain? Our customers are afraid to use the stuff.”
“You instructed me to use Tleilaxu methods to alter the barra ferns and thus increase the potency of the ailar. It succeeded admirably well, far beyond expectations.”
“And many people died because the drug was too powerful.”
The Tleilaxu scoffed. “They were poorly informed, and we were unable to institute a thorough enough analysis. The drug concentration in the new ferns is potent, but varies greatly. Despite all the resources you gave me, sophisticated equipment was difficult to come by in the deep wilderness. Caladan is not Tleilax, nor Ix.”
Jaxson remained dubious. “Once word gets around, users will be afraid of ailar.”
Marek shook his head. “But the euphoria is so much more intense, they will risk it. The new barra ferns obviously still need genetic adjustment to modulate the potency. Too many shipments went out with extraordinary potency, which we discovered only after the string of fatalities. We can fix that.” He smiled. “And the extremely powerful strain is an advantage, since we can generate far more ailar with the same amount of ferns, if we process it properly!”
The two men stepped aside as workers moved cartons of sealed ailar onto the frigate. Jaxson intercepted one of the boxes, opening the lid to find tightly packed brown curls of product. A rich smell wafted up, loamy with an undertone of peat and smoke. He had never tried ailar himself—the thought nauseated him—but he did not need to understand the vices of human beings in order to profit from them.
And Jaxson used that profit to partially fund his operations in a widespread and ever more powerful rebellion against the Corrino Imperium. He smirked. “That is why I sent out specific feelers to recruit discontented Tleilaxu. I knew we were natural allies.”
The gray-faced man scowled. “If only more of my people understood the opportunity offered by the Noble Commonwealth. Right now, in the corrupt Imperium, we are reviled, not given the same rights and privileges as noble houses. Your cause may be more vital to my people than to any other planet in the Imperium, and our indoctrinated followers support us with their lives. No member of the Bene Tleilax has a seat in the Landsraad, nor do we have a Directorship in CHOAM. You promised that would change.”
“It will change, as soon as our movement is victorious. And I promise you will not have to wait another century or two, as my mother would prefer.” Jaxson looked down at the lush globe of Caladan. They had orbited over the wide seas and now came upon another landmass. “We need a continued supply of ailar. You need to reestablish your operations from scratch, but Duke Leto will be much more wary now. Lay down subsidiary barra fields on the Eastern and Southern Continents. Triple your production.”
“We will face more primitive conditions over there,” Marek said. “That makes it more difficult to get reliable workers and ship the product once it’s packaged.”
“I prefer to see the advantages,” Jaxson said, his tone cocky. “Under more primitive conditions, you will have an easier time covering your operations. You can increase production, but keep a lower profile. Your mistake was that you let too much of the drug trickle into Caladan society. Duke Leto Atreides is very protective of his people. He would turn a blind eye to a thousand wealthy nobles addicted on countless planets in the Imperium, but if one of his peasants dies by accident, then you spark his vengeful anger. Be more careful next time.”
Marek thrust gray fingers into the organic mass inside the open box, stirring the dried plant matter. “The original Caladan barra fern was an extraordinary specimen, but my alterations have made it vastly more suited to our uses. Unfortunately, we still have not been able to make the species thrive off of Caladan.”
“Then you can make do here, on this planet.” Jaxson looked at all the boxes being loaded into his customized frigate. “After you expand your growth operations on the other continents, our movement will once again be flush with solaris. The Noble Commonwealth will continue its work.”
“And all will benefit,” said the Tleilaxu man. “Our worlds will eventually be independent. The Bene Tleilax can make their own choices, perform their own work, and make their own profits.” He hissed. “We will no longer be downtrodden scapegoats treated with disrespect at every turn!”
“Wealth is something you must earn, Chaen Marek,” warned Jaxson. “And so is respect.”
When the workers finished transferring the packaged ailar, Jaxson realized it would be the last full load for some time. He had already stashed substantial funds in a secret war-chest account in the Guild Bank, but his allies would have to be more frugal.
Nevertheless, because they spoke the truth and told the downtrodden planets what they needed to hear, the rebellion would continue to resonate.
In the worst-case scenario, Jaxson could always go back to his mother. Despite her words of public condemnation, he was confid
ent Malina would come around and give him the financial resources to assure the victory of their shared cause, even if they differed in approach. He could make her see.
Chaen Marek looked as if he wanted to stay with Jaxson Aru, perhaps to fly off to the luxury and security of the Silver Needle on Kaitain or some other CHOAM complex, but Jaxson was firm. “Go back down to Caladan. You have work to do.”
Petulant, Marek slipped back through the connected hulls to his camouflaged cargo ship, and Jaxson returned to his stateroom. The frigate would ride in a secret berth aboard the Guild Heighliner to his next destination, his sister Jalma’s private holding on Pliesse. She was still consolidating her rule there since quietly disposing of her decrepit husband.
Jaxson smiled. He would convert his sister as well.
Yes, they all had work to do.
Supreme, death-defying challenges are never merely physical. They are mental as well, and the more severe the challenge, the more thought processes are required to overcome the obstacle and survive.
—DUKE LETO ATREIDES
The crashing seas seemed peaceful compared to the tension that filled Castle Caladan, the coldness between his mother and father. Paul didn’t understand it, but something felt truly broken there.
In the morning air, the young man scrambled over rocks at the base of the cliff beneath the main lookout, then cut his way through a protective wire barricade meant to keep daredevils out. Squeezing through the opening, he picked a route over the treacherous, mossy rocks. He needed to focus his impatient energy on a challenge he could defeat.
This climbing obstacle was not as imposing as the Arondi Cliffs in the north, but the precipice beneath Castle Caladan was not for the weak of heart. The physical exertion would help Paul work out his helpless frustration and clear his head.
He’d climbed these sea cliffs before, starting from the base during low tide, but he had never approached via this route, which was steeper and more treacherous. High above, he could see the girded underside of the cantilevered lookout structure and the Atreides colors flying from a pole. He clenched his fingers, flexed his hands, and prepared for the ordeal.
Dune: The Duke of Caladan Page 39