Dune: House Atreides (50 page)

The large reef was a convoluted, permanently submerged landscape. Tufts of coralweed waved in the gentle currents, the tiny mouths on their leaves snaring bits of plankton. Jewel-toned fish darted in and out of holes in the layered coral.

Rhombur grabbed his arm and pointed at a long purplish eel that drifted by, streaming a rainbow-hued, feathery tail. The Ixian looked comical with his cheeks swollen, trying to hold in his air.

Grasping the rough coral, Leto pulled himself along and peered into cracks and crevices. He shined the beam of his waterlume all around in his search. With his lungs aching, he finally found a discolored knob and signaled for Rhombur, who swam over. But as Leto pulled out his spatula-knife to pry free the coral gem, Rhombur flailed his arms and swam upward as fast as he could, his air exhausted.

Leto remained beneath the water, though his chest pounded. Finally, he pried loose the nodule, which would likely yield a medium-sized coral gem. With it he swam upward, his chest ready to burst, and finally splashed to the surface where Rhombur clung, panting, to the edge of the coracle.

"Found one," Leto said. "Look." Holding the gem underneath the water, he tapped it with the blunt edge of his knife until the outer covering cracked free. Inside, a slightly misshapen ovoid gleamed with self-contained pearly light. Tiny glimmering specks circulated like molten sand trapped within transparent epoxy.

"Exquisite," Rhombur said.

Dripping wet, Leto climbed out of the water and onto the midship deck, by the lifeboat station. He dipped a bucket overboard, filling it with seawater, and dropped the coral gem inside before it could dry out in his hands. "Now you have to find one of your own."

With his blond hair plastered to his head by seawater, the Prince nodded, drew several deep gulps of air, then swam downward again. Leto dived after him.

Within an hour the pair had gathered half a bucket of the beautiful gems. "Nice haul," Leto said, squatting on the deck beside Rhombur, who, fascinated with the treasure, dipped his fingers into the bucket. "You like those?"

Rhombur grunted. His eyes danced with a child's delight.

"I've worked up quite an appetite," Leto said. "I'll go prep the foodpaks."

"I'm starving, too," Rhombur said. "Uh, need any help?"

Leto drew himself up and raised his aquiline nose haughtily in the air. "Sir, I am the resident ducal heir, with a long resume asserting my competence to prepare a simple foodpak." He strutted to the sheltered galley as Rhombur sorted through the wet coral stones, like a kid playing with marbles.

Some were perfectly spherical, others misshapen and pitted. Rhombur wondered why certain ones had a blazing inner brilliance while others were dull by comparison. He set the three largest stones on the midship deck and watched the sunlight glitter on them, a pale shadow to the brilliance trapped within. He noted their differences, wondered what he and Leto could do with the treasure.

He missed his own collection of gems and crystals, agates and geodes from Ix.

He had wandered through caves and tunnels and shafts to find them. He had learned so much of geology that way -- and then the Tleilaxu had driven him and his family from their world. He'd been forced to leave everything behind.

Although he left it unsaid, Rhombur decided if he ever saw his mother again, he could make a grand gift for her.

Leto leaned out of the galley door. "Lunch is ready. Come and eat before I feed it to the fishes."

Rhombur trotted in to sit at the small table while Leto served up two bowls of steaming Caladanian oyster chowder, seasoned with nouveau wine from House Atreides vineyards. "My grandmother came up with this recipe. It's one of my favorites."

"Well, not bad. Even if you made it." Rhombur slurped from his bowl and licked his lips. "It's a, um, good thing my sister didn't come along," he said, trying to hide the joking tone in his voice. "She probably would have tried to wear fancy clothes, and you know she'd never have gone swimming with us."

"Sure," Leto said, unconvinced. "You're right." It was obvious to anyone how he and Kailea flirted with each other, though Rhombur understood -- politically speaking -- that a romance between them would be unwise at best, and dangerous at worst.

Out on the midship deck just aft of them, the sun beat down, warming the wooden floorboards, drying the splashed water -- and exposing the fragile coral gems to the open, oxidizing air. Simultaneously, the three largest gems burst into incandescent flares, merging into a miniature nova of intense heat, hot enough to burn through a metal starship hull.

Leto leaped to his feet, knocking aside his bowl of chowder. Through the broad plaz windowports he could see blue-orange flames shooting up, setting the deck on fire, including the lifeboat. One of the coral gems shattered, spraying hot fragments in all directions, each of which started secondary fires.

Within seconds, two more gems burned completely through the coracle deck and dropped into the cargo hold below, where they ate through crates. One burned open a spare fuel container, igniting it with an explosive burst, while the second gem seared all the way through the bottom hull until it extinguished itself in the refreshing water again. The wickerwood hull, though treated with a fire-retardant chemical, would not hold up against such heat.

Leto and Rhombur rushed out of the galley, shouting at each other but not knowing what to do. "The fire! We've got to get the fire out!"

"They're coral gems!" Leto looked for something with which to extinguish the blaze. "They burn hot, can't be put out easily." Swelling flames licked the deck, and the coracle rocked with an explosion belowdecks. On its davits the lifeboat was a lost cause, completely enveloped in flames.

"We could sink," Leto said, "and we're too far from land." He grabbed a chemical extinguisher, which he sprayed on the flames.

He and his companion took out the hoses and pumps from a front compartment and doused the boat with seawater, but the cargo hold was already engulfed. Greasy black smoke drifted through cracks in the top deck. A warning beep signified that they were taking on large amounts of water.

"We're going to sink!" Rhombur shouted, reading the instrumentation. He coughed from the acrid smoke.

Leto tossed a flotation vest to his friend as he buckled another one around his waist. "Get on the shore-com. Announce our position and send a distress. You know how to operate it?"

Rhombur yelped an affirmative, while Leto used another chemical extinguisher, but soon exhausted its charge without effect. He and Rhombur would be trapped out here, floating with only the debris of the boat around them. He had to reach land and settle where they could wait.

He remembered his father lecturing him: "When you find yourself in the midst of a seemingly impossible crisis, take care of the solvable parts first. Then, after you've narrowed the possibilities, work on the most difficult aspects."

He heard Rhombur shouting into the shore-com, repeating the distress call. Leto now ignored the fire. The coracle was sinking, and would soon be underwater, leaving them stranded. He looked toward the port side and saw frothing water around the tangle of the reef. He dashed for the cabin.

Before the fire could reach the aft engines, he started the boat, used the emergency cutoff to sever the anchor, and raced toward the reef. The flaming coracle was like a comet on the water.

"What are you doing?" Rhombur cried. "Where are we going?"

"The reef!" he shouted. "I'll try to run aground there so we don't sink. Then you and I can work to put out the fire."

"You're going to crash us into a reef? That's crazy!"

"You'd rather sink out here? This boat is going down, one way or another." As if to emphasize his point another small container of fuel exploded belowdecks, sending a shudder through the floor.

Rhombur grasped the secured galley table to keep his balance. "Whatever you say."

"Did you get an acknowledgment on the shore-com?"

"No. I, uh, hope they heard us." Leto told him to keep trying, which he did, still without receiving a response.

The waves curled around them, low to the deck rail. Black smoke poured into the sky. Fire licked at the engine compartment. The coracle dipped lower, dragging, taking on water rapidly. Leto pushed the engines, still charging toward the rocks. He didn't know if he would win this race. If he could just run them up on the reef, he and Rhombur could stay safely beside the wreckage.

He didn't know how long it would take for rescuers to arrive.

As if driven by a demon, whitecaps rose in front of them, threatening to form a barrier. But Leto held course and did not slacken the acceleration. "Hang on!"

At the last moment, the engines died as fire engulfed them. The coracle cruised forward on sheer momentum and crashed into the jagged reef. The grinding halt threw both Leto and Rhombur to the deck. Rhombur struck his head and stood up, blinking, dazed. Blood trickled down his forehead, very close to the old injury he had received during the orship escape from Ix.

"Let's go! Overboard!" Leto yelled. He grabbed his friend's arm and pushed him out of the cabin. From the forward compartment, Leto tossed hoses and portable pumps into the frothing water. "Dip this end of the hose into the deepest water you can reach! And try not to cut yourself on the reef."

Rhombur scrambled over the rail, while Leto followed, trying to maintain his balance in the churning tide pools and rough surf. The boat was snagged, so for the moment they needn't worry about drowning -- just discomfort.

The pumps started, and seawater sprayed out of two hoses, one held by each boy.

The water fell in a thick curtain onto the flames. Rhombur swiped blood out of his eyes and kept directing his hose. They doused the coracle with endless torrents until finally, slowly, the flames began to die back.

Rhombur looked bedraggled and miserable, but Leto felt oddly exhilarated. "Perk up, Rhombur. Think about it. On Ix we had to escape from a revolution that nearly destroyed the whole planet. Makes this little mishap seem like child's play, wouldn't you say?"

"Uh, right," the other said, glumly. "Most fun I've had in ages."

The two of them sat waist deep in the surging water, playing their hoses over the fire. Smoke continued to rise into the clear Caladan sky like a distress beacon.

Soon they heard the distant but increasing roar of powerful engines, and moments later a high-speed wingboat came into view, a double-hulled craft capable of reaching tremendous speeds over the water. It drew near and swung clear of the rocks. On the foredeck stood Thufir Hawat, shaking his head at Leto in disapproval.

Among the responsibilities of command is the necessity to punish . . . but only when the victim demands it.

-PRINCE RAPHAEL CORRINO, Discourses on Leadership in a Galactic Imperium, 12th Edition

Her chocolate hair in disarray, her clothes torn and inappropriate for the desert, the woman ran across the sands, seeking escape.

Janess Milam looked up over her shoulder, blinking sun-scalded tears from her eyes. Seeing the shadow of the suspensor platform that held Baron Harkonnen and his nephew Rabban, she put on a burst of speed. Her feet dug into the powder-sand, making her lose her balance. She staggered toward the open wasteland, where it was hotter, drier, deadlier.

Buried in the lee of a nearby dune, the thumper throbbed, pulsing . . . calling.

She tried to find a refuge of rocks, cool caves, even the shadow of a boulder.

At the very least, she wanted to die out of sight so they wouldn't be able to laugh at her. But the Harkonnens had dropped her into a sea of open dunes.

Janess slipped and tasted dust.

From their safe vantage on the suspensor platform, the Baron and his nephew watched her struggles, the pitiful flight of a tiny human figure on the sand.

The observers wore stillsuits like costumes; their masks hung loose.

They had returned to Arrakis from Giedi Prime only a few weeks before, and Janess had arrived on the previous day's prison ship. At first, the Baron had thought to execute the treacherous woman back at Barony, but Rabban had wanted her to suffer in front of his eyes out on the scorching sands, in punishment for helping Duncan Idaho escape.

"She seems so insignificant down there, doesn't she?" the Baron commented, without interest. Sometimes, his nephew did have unique ideas, though he lacked the focus to carry them through. "This is much more satisfying than a simple beheading, and beneficial to the worms. Food for them."

Rabban made a low sound in his thick throat, remarkably like an animal's growl.

"It shouldn't be long now. Those thumpers always call a worm. Always."

The Baron stood tall on the platform, feeling the hot sun, the glistening sweat on his skin. His body ached, a condition he'd been experiencing for several months now. He nudged the suspensor platform forward so they could get a better view of their victim. He mused, "That boy is an Atreides now, from what I hear.

Working with the Duke's Salusan bulls."

"He's dead, if I ever see him again." Rabban wiped salty sweat from his sunburned forehead. "Him, and any other Atreides I catch alone."

"You're like an ox, Rabban." The Baron gripped his nephew's strong shoulder."

But don't waste energy on insignificant things. House Atreides is our real enemy -- not some insignificant stableboy. Stableboy . . . hmmm . . ."

Below, Janess skidded on her face down the slope of a dune and scrambled to her feet again. With a basso laugh the Baron said, "She'll never get far enough away from the thumper in time." The resonant vibrations continued to throb into the ground, like the distant drumbeat of a death song.

"It's too hot out here," Rabban grumbled. "Couldn't you have brought a canopy?"

Pulling his stillsuit's water tube to his mouth, he drew in an unsatisfying sip of warm water.

"I like to sweat. It's good for the health, purges poisons from the system."