Dune: The Machine Crusade

by Brian Herbert; Kevin J. Anderson

  The passenger compartment had grown too warm from the harsh sunlight that penetrated the groundcar’s plaz windows. Wondering if the vehicle’s air-cooling system had failed, he sniffed the sour air and frowned at the fine brown dust that seemed to ooze through the cracks and seals like a living thing.

  Why couldn’t the spice be found on any other planet… anywhere but here?

  Accompanied by Dhartha, Venport had visited spice harvesting camps today, including the site of a recent bandit raid. He was dismayed at the extensive vandalism to the melange harvesting equipment and the loss of so much product. One of the Naib’s lieutenants described how he had only narrowly escaped with his life during a harrowing assault, an experience that left him telling fantastic stories about the outlaws, as if they were superhuman.

  For years Dhartha had dodged answers, but Venport and Keedair had long suspected troubles like this. Confronted with the hard evidence of fluctuating spice deliveries, the Naib could no longer deny them. Now that he had observed firsthand the aftermath of a raid, Venport began to suspect just how much damage these outlaws were doing. Two hours ago as he stood in the wreckage of the raided camp, he had scowled at the Zensunni leader. “Things must improve here, and quickly. Do you understand?”

  The desert man’s aquiline face had remained stony. “I understand, Aurelius Venport. But you do not. This is a problem for my people to handle. You cannot come here and tell us how to manage our affairs.”

  “I pay you a great deal of money. This is business, not a petty tribal matter.” And he wondered, but did not say so, if one of his business competitors could possibly be responsible for the sabotage. But how would they know to come here?

  Then Venport noticed dark, threatening looks from some of the wild Zensunnis, and sensed the danger. His two hired bodyguards stiffened as the glowering desert man yanked the thick scarf from his face and tossed it scornfully to the ground— for it had been an earlier gift from Tuk Keedair. With a shout or a hand signal, Dhartha could summon enough men to overwhelm Venport and his guards.

  But the merchant showed no fear. Instead he spoke firmly, and not in an intimidating manner. “I have much invested in this operation, Naib Dhartha, and I refuse to lose profits because of unruly vandals. Your expenses have grown higher in recent years, and your melange deliveries no longer meet the quantities that you promised. A man of honor fulfills his contracts.”

  Dhartha glowered. “I am a man of honor! Do you claim otherwise?”

  Pausing for effect, Venport said, “Then we need not have this discussion again.” Though he showed bravado, his pulse pounded. These desert men were tough people and he had just confronted their leader, matching strength with strength. That, and guaranteed profits, was the only language they understood. He had seen how much NaibDhartha had grown to depend on offworld goods, and these Zensunni people were already markedly softer than when he had first encountered them years ago. The change was so dramatic, in fact, that Venport doubted these spoiled Zensunni villagers would ever go back to the dirty subsistence desert conditions they had accepted before the spice trade.

  Then, wanting to get away from the threatening cliff village, he had gestured to his bodyguards and moved quickly to the waiting groundcar. Even now he watched guardedly through the rear window, concerned that the Zensunni fighters might follow with a squad of desert assassins….

  They bumped along over rough ground at the edge of the dry cliffs. On top of the vehicle, the native driver sat in a dusty rooftop compartment with the two guards. At times the rutted path disappeared on the hardpan, but the driver kept going, apparently guided by instinct. They skirted thick, soft dunes, and finally Venport saw a graben town in the distance. Relaxing, he looked at the scribing pad on his lap and focused on the numerical estimates. Studying a column of figures, he scratched his head.

  Upon confirming Norma’s calculation of the funding she would need to develop her giant prototype ship, Venport had padded the guess just to be conservative, and then had ordered VenKee accountants to set up detailed tracking ledgers with cost breakdowns. Doubting Norma would ever notice, he had created additional expense categories based on his own business experience. Keedair would monitor the expenditures from Poritrin.

  In the big picture of VenKee Enterprises, Norma’s project had not yet caused a significant dent in income, though his concessions to Lord Bludd had cost him glowglobe revenues. She required only an isolated set of research buildings, a group of reasonably priced slaves, her own personal living expenses, and an old spaceship. But regardless of the cost, Venport promised himself he would provide the capital, for Norma. His heart told him to do this.

  The groundcar hit a deep rut and lurched, which knocked the scribing pad from his lap. With a frown he picked it up and dusted it off. He hated this gritty, filthy planet, but was stuck here. His thoughts drifted….

  * * *

  ON THE NIGHT before he was due to depart from Poritrin for most of a year, Venport had gone to talk with Norma Cenva. He had wanted to say goodbye to her… and other things as well. The idea was still a surprise to him, but despite his disbelief, he knew he was doing the right thing.

  Far below, the tributary of the Isana had gurgled through the canyon on its journey to the slow but powerful main current. The large warehouse was well lit, inside and out, and intense glowglobes dazzled from the corners of the building. Flying reptiles swooped around the glare, feasting on insects.

  In the days since Keedair had flown the test ship down into the hangar, the construction crews had finished the lion’s share of the work on the research facility. Slave barracks had been built, supplied, and furnished, and the first crews of slaves had already been reassigned from Starda.

  Heavy machinery, fabrication benches, and welding shops had been brought in, along with every sophisticated manufacturing tool Venport could imagine. Inside the big hangar, the bulbous cargo ship rested in its support cradle, shored up by stabilizers. Venport thought it looked like a drugged patient awaiting surgery… and he knew Norma would be the miracle worker.

  Affable, dedicated, Norma. He had known her for most of her life— how could he have been so blind before?

  On that warm, moonlit night, Venport had walked across the research grounds. Inside the hangar, Norma had moved into three of the larger offices previously used by administrators of the defunct mine. Though he’d personally made certain she had comfortable living quarters in one of the site’s outbuildings, Norma rarely spent time there.

  She’d always been an obsessively hard worker, and had become even more intense now that she worked on her own dreams instead of Tio Holtzman’s. Despite his own substantial investment in the project, Venport knew that she would need time, probably more than a year, before she was ready to test the new space-folding ship.

  But what was a year, when one considered the big picture? Even so, it seemed much too long for him to be away from her.

  In his arms, he held a bouquet of fresh Bludd roses, obtained from the Lord of Poritrin’s private gardens in Starda— not that Norma would put much stock in such things. He still couldn’t believe what he was doing… but it felt so right.

  Light shone from her calculation rooms, as always. Despite the late hour, Norma was still engrossed in her equations and inventions. Venport shook his head sadly, but forced a smile. There never was a good time to talk to Norma. Any hour of the day, she was equally busy; sometimes, she went for days without sleep— eating and drinking only enough to keep going.

  But that was Norma. He didn’t expect to change her.

  Still, Venport had to tell her how he felt. He supposed it would come as a shock to her, much as it had been for him. He had taken her for granted, happily accepting her short-statured form and blunt features, never really thinking of her as a woman.

  Why had he never seen it before? For years he had been the breeding partner of the stunningly statuesque and beautiful Chief Sorceress of Rossak— and had been kept like a pet. What had that gotten
him? Zufa’s outer beauty did not extend to her heart, but Norma kept all of her beauty inside.

  Solemnly, Venport knocked on the door of her calculation rooms, silently rehearsing what he wanted to say. He did not expect her to respond right away, so he tried the door. It swung open and he entered slowly. With butterflies in his stomach— as if he were a mere adolescent!

  Inside the bright room, Norma was seated on an adjustable floating chair that held her at the proper height from her worktable. Standard chairs and tables never fit her, and he marveled at how she functioned so stubbornly, without complaint, in a universe designed for larger people. Her immense intellect more than made up for her lack of stature. It didn’t bother her, so why should it bother him?

  He realized there were many reasons why he cared for her as much more than a friend. For a long time, it had been more akin to sibling love, and Venport did not know quite when it had shifted, on a subconscious level. Yes, he was ten years older than she was, and he had been her mother’s chosen breeding partner. But what difference did a decade make, anyway? A few thousand days. Not much. He appreciated Norma for who she was, and thought it was about time for him to express his feelings properly.

  At first, engrossed as always, Norma didn’t even notice him. For several moments he stood at her side, holding the flowers and just studying her. The Bludd roses filled his nostrils with delicate perfume. He had carefully attached an exquisite, rare soostone to the stems, the same expensive gem he had once tried to give to her mother. But Zufa Cenva had frowned at the egg-shaped “bauble,” dismissing its alleged properties of focusing the mind and thoughts. The chief Sorceress had insisted she needed no such crutch. He doubted Zufa knew how to appreciate any heartfelt gesture for what it was.

  Norma, though, should be able to see that the soostone, and the roses, were beautiful, precious. She would appreciate it in the spirit he meant it.

  If he could only get her attention.

  Like a horse wearing blinders, Norma stared at a long sheet filled with scribbled numbers. Every few seconds, she made a slight alteration to the document.

  “I love you, Norma Cenva,” he finally blurted. “Marry me. It’s what I truly want.”

  She continued to work, as if she had shut off all external senses except vision. She looked so engrossed, so… beautiful… in her fixation. With a sigh, Venport paced the room, continuing to watch her work. Finally, she stretched. Suddenly she looked over at him, blinking. “Aurelius!” She hadn’t noticed he was there.

  His face felt warm, but he gathered his courage. “I have an important question to ask you. I’ve been waiting for the right moment.” He handed her the bouquet of flowers, and she pressed them close to her face, inhaling the sweet scent, then studied the blossoms as if she had never noticed roses before. Gently, she touched the eerily marvelous soostone attached to the stems and admired the depth of colors in the gem, as if it were a universe all to itself. Then she looked up at him, her brown eyes inquisitive.

  “I want you to be my wife. I love you very much. It’s been obvious for a long time, I suppose, but I never recognized it.”

  It took her a moment to comprehend what he was saying, and then her eyes filled with tears of surprise and disbelief. “But, Aurelius— you know I have never thought of such things. Love, courting… even sex. I’ve had no experience, no opportunity. Those are”— she fumbled for words—”alien concepts to me.”

  “Just think about them for now. You’re more intelligent than any other person I have ever met. You can figure out the best thing to do. I trust you.” He smiled warmly.

  She blushed with pleasure. “This is… so completely unexpected. I never imagined—”

  “Norma, I’m leaving tomorrow. I couldn’t wait. I had to ask you.”

  She had always considered him a friend, a supporter, the closest thing she had to a protective older brother. But she had never considered a deeper love with him— not because she didn’t want to, but because she had never imagined the possibility. She looked at her small hands, the blunt fingers. “But… me?I am not an attractive woman, Aurelius. Why would you want to marry me?”

  “I just told you.”

  She looked away. This was too much to process at once, and her thoughts were in complete turmoil. It was very unsettling. She had no idea anymore which calculations had been in her mind. “But… I have too much work to do, and it would not be fair to you. I can’t afford… diversions.”

  “Marriage is about sacrifices.”

  “A marriage based on sacrifices would lead only to resentment.” She met his gaze and shook her head stubbornly. “Let’s not rush into this. We need to consider all the implications.”

  “Trust me, Norma, this isn’t an experiment where you can control all the factors ahead of time. I am a busy man, too. I understand how much your work means to you. VenKee obligations will keep us apart for long periods, but that will also give you the time you need for your work. Think about it logically, at least, but let your heart decide.”

  She smiled and then, startled, looked back down to a calendar tag on the top of her table. “Oh, is it so soon that you leave for Arrakis?”

  “You will have time to think. We’ve waited this many years, and I can wait a while longer. When you say you’ll consider my proposal, I know you’ll give it the most diligent attention I could ever hope for.” Venport unfastened the smooth, slick soostone and handed it to her. “For now, will you at least accept my gift? A token of our friendship?”

  “Of course.” Her fingers traced the slick, pearly surface of the soostone. She smiled sadly. “You see? You have already been a diversion— though a pleasant one. Aurelius, have I truly been so oblivious that I never noticed your feelings for me?”

  “Yes.” He smiled. “And I promise you, I will not have changed my mind by the time I come back.”

  * * *

  MANY MONTHS FROM Poritrin and Norma now, Venport cruised over the Arrakis desert in a scout flyer, accompanied by his mercenary guards. He didn’t need NaibDhartha along on this expedition. His attention was focused on the monotonous landscape.

  Out of long experience he thought in terms of controlling costs. He always considered how he might bypass wasteful middlemen in his diversified operations. Direct access was the key to gaining the most profit, whether the product was pharmaceuticals, glowglobes, or melange.

  Thus far, since the Zensunnis were willing to take the risks and claimed to be experts in the harsh terrain of Arrakis, Venport and Keedair had avoided setting up their own spice-harvesting operations. But what if VenKee Enterprises hired outside workers and ran the operations directly, bypassing Naib Dhartha and all the problems he presented?

  The scout flyer rattled as it hit turbulence. In the compartment beside him, mercenaries cursed at the pilot he had hired at the Arrakis City Spaceport, but he paid them no attention. Gueye d’Pardu was an offworlder who had emigrated here at a young age and gone into business as a guide, though he found little enough business on such an isolated world. D’Pardu had promised to find exotically beautiful “spice sands” for Venport.

  Dust on the horizon obscured the early-morning sun, allowing no color to penetrate. Static crackled over a speaker in the passenger compartment as the pilot deigned to address them. “Monitoring storm ahead. Weather satellite shows it heading out into the Tanzerouft, so we should be all right. We need to keep an eye on it, though.”

  “What’s the Tanzerouft?” Venport asked.

  “Deep desert. Extremely dangerous out there.”

  They soared ahead for another half hour. The flyer ran alongside a cliff, then turned toward the ruddy sun and out over the yawning desert.

  Back in the village, Venport had heard natives talk about Arrakis as if it were a living creature with a spirit of its own. Amused at the comments, he had discarded them out of hand, but now as he flew over the dunes he wondered if perhaps the natives had been right after all. He felt peculiar, as if someone were watching him. He and the few
men with him were isolated out here. Vulnerable…

  The tan landscape began to change, revealing swirls of rusty brown and ocher. “Spice sands,” d’Pardu said. With his soft flesh and hanging jowls, the guide seemed out of place on a planet where most of the people appeared desiccated.

  “It looks like something stirred up the ground,” Venport noted. “The wind, I presume?”

  “In the desert it is unwise to presume anything,” d’Pardu said.

  At a viewing station, Venport glanced through a window at a sinuous shape moving effortlessly through the dunes. The sands were in motion, as if awakening from an extended slumber. A chill ran down his spine. “What the hells is that? Gods— sandworms?” He leaned closer, amazed. He had heard of the huge beasts, which caused almost as much havoc for the spice-gathering crews as the outlaw raiders, but he’d never seen one before.

  The guide scowled, opening up new wrinkles on his already creased, weathered face. “Demon of the Desert.”

  Below, the sinuous, grayish beast undulated like a row of living hills, cresting over and through the dunes at an astonishing speed, keeping pace with the flyer above.

  “Look at its back!” one of the guards exclaimed. “Do you see the shapes? People! People are riding the worms!”

  “Impossible,” d’Pardu said with a sniff, but as he looked out the window he seemed unable to say anything further, and simply stared.

  The dust picked up, blurring the view, but Venport thought he could still see the tiny figures, little specks… clearly human-shaped. No one could domesticate such monsters.

  D’Pardu yelled, “We’d better leave. I have a bad feeling.” Winds began to buffet the aircraft.

  Agreeing with the guide, Venport said, “Just get us out of here.”