Dune - House Atreides

by Brian Herbert

  The transparent lift came to a stop, and a curved door rotated open. A breath of warm air brushed Leto's hands and face. He crouched, ready to attack with his fishing knife, though he could not imagine this innocuous-looking stranger to be a killer.

  "You must be Leto Atreides, right?" the young man said. He spoke in Galach, the common language of the Imperium. "So should we start out with a day hike?"

  Leto's gray eyes narrowed and fixed on the purple-and-copper Ixian helix adorning the boy's collar. Trying to hide his immense relief and maintain a professional, even suspicious facade, Leto nodded and lowered the tip of the knife, which the stranger had pretended not to notice.

  "I'm Rhombur Vernius. I, uh, thought you'd want to stretch a bit before we settle in down below. I heard you like being outdoors, though I prefer to be underground myself. Maybe after you spend a little time with us, you'll feel at home in our cavern cities. Ix is really quite nice."

  He looked up at the clouds and high-altitude sleet. "Oh, why is it raining? Vermilion hells, I hate being in unpredictable environments." Rhombur shook his head in disgust. "I told weather control to give you a warm, sunny day. My apologies, Prince Leto -- but this is just too dreary for me. How about we go down to the Grand Palais?"

  Catching himself rambling, Rhombur dropped both day packs inside the lift tube and nudged Leto's floating luggage inside as well. "It's good to meet you at last. My father's been talking about Atreides this and Atreides that for so long. We'll be studying together for some time, probably family trees and Landsraad politics. I'm eighty-seventh in line to the Golden Lion Throne, but I think you rank even higher than I do."

  Golden Lion Throne. The Great Houses were ranked according to an elaborate CHOAM-Landsraad system, and within each House was a sub-hierarchy based upon primogeniture. Leto's ranking was indeed substantially higher than the Ixian Prince's -- through his mother he was actually a great-grandson of Elrood IX, through one of his three daughters by his second wife, Yvette. But the difference was meaningless; the Emperor had many great-grandchildren. Neither he nor Rhombur would ever get to be Emperor. Serving as Duke of House Atreides would offer enough of a challenge, Leto thought.

  The young men exchanged the half handshake of the Imperium, interlocking fingertips. The Ixian Prince wore a fire-jewel ring on his right hand, and Leto felt no rough calluses.

  "I thought I was in the wrong place after I'd landed," Leto said, finally letting his uneasiness and confusion show through. "I believed I was stranded on some uninhabited rock. Is this really . . . Ix? The machine planet?" He pointed toward the spectacular peaks, the snow and rocks, the dark forests.

  Remembering what his father had told him about the Ixian penchant for security, Leto noted Rhombur's hesitation. "Oh, uh, you'll see. We try not to make ourselves too obvious."

  The Prince gestured him into the tube, and the plaz door rotated shut. They plunged through what seemed to be a kilometer of rock. Rhombur continued to speak calmly even as they plummeted. "Because of the nature of our technical operations, Ix has countless secrets and many enemies who'd like to destroy us. We try to keep our dealings and our resources hidden from prying eyes."

  The two young men passed through a luminescent honeycomb of artificial material, then into a vast expanse of air that revealed a huge grotto-world, a fairyland protected deep within the crust of the planet.

  Massive crowns of graceful support girders came into view, connected to diamond lattice columns so tall that the bottoms were not visible below. The plaz-walled capsule continued to descend, floating free on an Ixian suspensor mechanism. The capsule's transparent floor gave Leto the unsettling illusion of dropping feetfirst through thin air. He held on to the side railing while his floating suitcases bobbed around him.

  Overhead, he saw what looked like the cloudy Ixian sky and the blue-white sun peeking through. Projectors concealed on the surface of the planet transmitted actual weather images onto high-resolution screens that covered the rock ceilings.

  This enormous underworld made the inside of even a Guild Heighliner look minuscule. Hanging down from the roof of the stone vault, Leto saw geometric inverted buildings, like inhabited crystal stalactites connected to each other by walkways and tubes. Teardrop-shaped aircraft sped noiselessly through the subterranean realm, flitting between structures and supports. Hang gliders carrying people flashed by in streaks of brilliant color.

  Far down on the floor of the rough cavern he spotted a lake and rivers -- all deep underground and protected from outsiders' eyes.

  "Vernii," Rhombur said. "Our capital city."

  As the capsule slid between the hanging stalactite buildings, Leto could make out groundcars, buses, and an aerial tube-transport system. He felt as if he were inside a magical snowflake. "Your buildings are incredibly beautiful," he said, his gray eyes drinking in all the details. "I always thought of Ix as a noisy industrial world."

  "We, uh, foster that impression for outsiders. We've discovered structural materials that are not only aesthetically pleasing but extremely light and strong. Living here underground, we're both protected and hidden."

  "And it lets you keep the surface of the world in pristine condition," Leto pointed out. The Prince of Ix looked as if he hadn't even considered that advantage.

  "The nobles and administrators live in the upper stalactite buildings," Rhombur continued. "Workers, shift supervisors, and all the suboid crews live below in warrens. Everyone works together for the prosperity of Ix."

  "More levels beneath this city? People live even deeper down there?" "Well, not really people. They're suboids," Rhombur said, with a dismissive wave of one hand. "We've specifically bred them to perform drudgery without complaint. Quite a triumph of genetic engineering. I don't know what we'd do without them."

  Their floating compartment skirted a tube-transport path and continued to follow the upside-down skyline. As they approached the most spectacular of the inverted ceiling palaces -- a huge, angled structure hanging suspended like an archaic cathedral -- Leto said, "I assume your Inquisitors await me?" He raised his chin and prepared himself for the ordeal. "I've never had a deep mental scan before."

  Rhombur laughed at him. "I can, uh, arrange a mind probe if you really wish to undergo the rigors . . . ." The Ixian Prince studied Leto intently. "Leto, Leto, if we didn't trust you in the first place, you never would have been allowed on Ix. Security has, um, changed a lot here since your father's day. Don't listen to all those dark, sinister stories we spread about ourselves. They're just to scare away the curious."

  The capsule finally settled onto a sprawling balcony constructed of interlocking tiles, and Leto felt a holding apparatus engage underneath them. The chamber began to move laterally toward an armorplaz building.

  Leto tried not to let his relief show. "All right. I'll defer to your judgment."

  "And I'll do the same when we're on your planet. Water and fish and open skies. Caladan sounds . . . uh, wonderful." His tone said the exact opposite.

  Household personnel clad in black-and-white livery streamed out of the armor-plaz building. Forming a neat line on each side of the tube path, the uniformed men and women stood rigidly at attention.

  "This is the Grand Palais," Rhombur said, "where our staff will see to your every wish. Since you're the only current visitor, you might be in for some pampering."

  "All these people just to serve . . . me?" Leto remembered the times when he'd had to scale and fillet the fish he caught, if he wanted to eat.

  "You are an important dignitary, Leto. The son of a Duke, the friend of our family, an ally in the Landsraad. Do you expect anything less?"

  "In truth, I'm from a House with no substantial wealth, on a planet where the only glamour comes from fishermen, harvesters of floating paradan melons, and pundi rice farmers."

  Rhombur laughed, a friendly peal. "Oh, and you're modest, too!"

  Followed by the suspensor-borne luggage, the young men walked side by side up three wide, elegant stairs into t
he Grand Palais.

  Looking around the central lobby, Leto identified Ixian crystal chandeliers, the finest in all the Imperium. Crystal goblets and vases adorned marbleplaz tables, and on each side of a blackite reception desk were full-size lapisjade statuaries of Earl Dominic Vernius and his Lady Shando Vernius. Leto recognized the royal couple from triphotos he had seen.

  The uniformed household staff filtered back into the building and took up positions where they would be available for instructions from superiors. Across the lobby, double doors opened and big-shouldered, bald Dominic Vernius himself approached, looking like some djinn out of a bottle. He wore a silver-and-gold sleeveless tunic trimmed in white at the collar. A purple-and-copper Ixian helix adorned his breast.

  "Ah, so this is our young visitor!" Dominic effused with blustery good humor. Crow's-feet became laugh lines around his bright brown eyes. His facial construction looked very much like that of his son Rhombur, except the fat he carried had set into ruddy folds and creases, and his dark bushy mustache made for a striking frame around white teeth. Earl Dominic was several centimeters taller than his son. The Earl's features were not narrow and hard like the Atreides and Corrino bloodlines, but came instead from a lineage that had been ancient at the time of the Battle of Corrin.

  Behind him came his wife Shando, former concubine of the Emperor, dressed in a formal gown. Her finely chiseled features, delicately pointed nose, and creamy skin suffused her appearance with a regal beauty that would have shone through even the most drab of garments. She looked slight and delicate at first glance, but carried a toughness and resilience about her.

  Beside her, their daughter Kailea seemed to be trying to outshine even her mother in a brocaded lavender dress that set off copper-dark hair. Kailea looked a little younger than Leto, but she walked with a studied grace and concentration, as if she dared not let formality or appearances slip. She had thin arched eyebrows, striking emerald eyes, and a generous, catlike mouth above a narrow chin. With the faintest of smiles, Kailea executed an extravagant and perfect curtsy.

  Leto nodded and responded to each introduction, trying to keep his eyes from the Vernius daughter. Hurriedly going through the motions his mother had drilled into him, Leto snapped open the seal on one of his suitcases and removed a heavy jeweled box, one of the Atreides family treasures. Holding it, he stood erect. "For you, Lord Vernius. This contains unique items from our planet. I also have a gift for Lady Vernius."

  "Excellent, excellent!" Then, as if impatient with overblown ceremony, Dominic accepted the gift and motioned for a servant to come and take it. "I'll enjoy its contents this evening, when there is more time." He rubbed his broad hands together. This man seemed to belong more in a smoky blacksmith's shop or on a battlefield than in a fancy palace. "So, did you have a good trip to Ix, Leto?"

  "Uneventful, sir."

  "Ah, the best kind of trip." Dominic laughed easily.

  Leto smiled, not certain how best to make a good impression on this man. He cleared his throat, embarrassed to confess his concerns and worries. "Yes, sir, except I thought I was abandoned when the Guild left me on your planet and I saw only wilderness."

  "Ah! I asked your father not to mention that to you -- our little prank. I did the same to him on his first visit here. You must have imagined yourself good and lost." Dominic beamed with pleasure. "You look rested enough, young man. At your age, space lag isn't much of a factor. You left Caladan, what, two days ago?"

  "Less than that, sir."

  "Amazing how quickly Heighliners can span great distances. Positively incredible. And we're making improvements in Heighliner design, enabling each ship to carry a larger payload." His booming voice made the accomplishments seem even more grandiose. "Our second construction is to be completed later today, another triumph for us. We'll take you through all the modifications we've made, so you can learn them as part of your apprenticeship here."

  Leto smiled, but already his head felt as if it might explode. He didn't know how much more new input he could absorb. By the time the year was up, he would be a different person entirely.

  There are weapons you cannot hold in your hand. You can only hold them in your mind.

  -Bene Gesserit Teaching

  The Bene Gesserit shuttle descended to the dark side of Giedi Prime, landing in the well-guarded Harko City spaceport just before midnight, local time.

  Concerned about what the damned witches wanted from him now that he had come home from the desert hellhole of Arrakis, the Baron went to a shielded upper balcony of Harkonnen Keep to watch the lights of the arriving craft.

  Around him, the monolithic blackplaz-and-steel towers shone garish lights into the smoke-smeared darkness. Walkways and roads were covered by corrugated awnings and filtered enclosures to protect pedestrians from industrial waste and acid rain. Given a little more imagination and attention to detail during its construction, Harko City could have been striking. Instead, the place looked stricken.

  "I have the data for you, my Baron," said a nasal but sharp voice behind him, as close as an assassin.

  Startled, the Baron turned, flexing his well-muscled arms. He scowled. The gaunt-robed form of his personal Mentat, Piter de Vries, stood at the doorway to the balcony.

  "Don't ever sneak up on me, Piter. You slither like a worm." The comparison brought to mind his nephew Rabban's desert hunting expedition and its embarrassing results. "Harkonnens kill worms, you know."

  "So I've heard," de Vries answered dryly. "But sometimes moving silently is the best way to acquire information." A wry smile formed on his lips, which were stained red from the cranberry-colored sapho juice Mentats drank in order to increase their abilities. Always seeking physical pleasures, curious to experiment with additional addictions, the Baron had tried sapho himself, but found it to be bitter, vile stuff.

  "It's a Reverend Mother and her entourage," de Vries said, nodding toward the lights of the shuttle. "Fifteen Sisters and acolytes, along with four male guards. No weapons that we could detect."

  De Vries had been trained as a Mentat by the Bene Tleilax, genetic wizards who produced some of the Imperium's best human computers. But the Baron hadn't wanted a mere data-processing machine with a human brain-he'd wanted a calculating and clever man, someone who could not only comprehend and compute the consequences of Harkonnen schemes, but who could also use his corrupt imagination to assist the Baron in achieving his aims. Piter de Vries was a special creation, one of the infamous Tleilaxu "twisted Mentats."

  "But what do they want?" the Baron muttered, gazing at the landed shuttle. "Those witches seem damned confident coming here." His own blue-uniformed troops marched out like a wolf pack before any of the passengers emerged from the ship. "We could erase them in an instant with our most trivial House defenses."

  "The Bene Gesserit are not without weapons, my Baron. Some say they themselves are weapons." De Vries raised a thin finger. "It's never wise to incur the wrath of the Sisterhood."

  "I know that, idiot! So, what's the Reverend Mother's name and what does she want?"

  "Gaius Helen Mohiam. As to what she wants . . . her Sisterhood has refused to say."

  "Damn them and their secrets," the Baron grumbled, as he spun about on the plaz-enclosed balcony. He strode toward the corridor to go meet the shuttlecraft.

  Piter de Vries smiled after him. "When a Bene Gesserit speaks, she often does so in riddles and innuendos, but her words also hold a great deal of truth. One simply needs to excavate it."

  The Baron responded with a deep grunt, kept going. Intensely curious himself, Piter followed.

  On the way, the Mentat reviewed his knowledge of these black-robed witches. The Bene Gesserit occupied themselves with numerous breeding schemes, as if farming humanity for their own obscure purposes. They also commanded one of the greatest storehouses of information in the Imperium, using their intricate libraries to look at the broad movements of peoples, to study the effects of one person's actions amidst interplanetary politics.
>
  As a Mentat, de Vries would have loved to get his hands on that storehouse of knowledge. With such a treasure trove of data he could make computations and prime projections -- perhaps enough to bring down the Sisterhood itself.

  But the Bene Gesserit allowed no outsiders into their archives, not even the Emperor himself. Hence there wasn't much on which even a Mentat could base his calculations. De Vries could only guess at the arriving witch's intentions.

  THE BENE GESSERIT liked to manipulate politics and societies in secret, so that few people could trace the exact patterns of influence. Nevertheless, the Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam knew how to plan and execute a spectacular entrance. With black robes swishing, flanked by two immaculately dressed male guards and followed by her troop of acolytes, she strode into the reception hall of the ancestral Harkonnen Keep.

  Seated at a gleaming blackplaz desk, the Baron waited to receive her, accompanied by his twisted Mentat, who stood on one side with a few handpicked personal guards. To exhibit his utter contempt and lack of interest for these visitors, the Baron wore a sloppy, casual robe. He had prepared no refreshments for them, no fanfare, no ceremony whatsoever.