Unknown

In the Imperium there exists the “principle of the individual,” noble but rarely utilized, whereby a person who violates a written law in a situation of extreme peril or need can request a special session of the court of jurisdiction in order to explain and support the necessity of his actions. A number of legal procedures derive from this principle, among them the Drey Jury, the Blind Tribunal, and the Trial by Forfeiture.

Despite disastrous military losses during the unexpected revolt, many secret places still remained on Ix. Centuries ago, during the paranoid times after House Vernius took over the machine operations, engineers sworn to secrecy had laid down an unrecorded honeycomb of transmission-shielded rooms, algae-chambers, and hideouts masked from discovery by remarkable Ixian ingenuity. It would take centuries for an enemy to ferret them out; even the ruling House had forgotten half of them.

Guided by Captain Zhaz and the troop of personal bodyguards, Leto and Rhombur concealed themselves in an algae-walled chamber, which was entered via an access tube that led upward into the crust of the planet. Routine enemy scans would detect only the life signs of the algae, since massive dampening fields surrounded the rest of the isolated chamber.

“We’ll only have to stay here a few days,” Rhombur said, struggling to recapture his usual optimism. “Surely by then, Landsraad or Imperial forces will have come to our rescue, and House Vernius can begin rebuilding Ix. Things will all work out.”

Narrowing his eyes, Leto remained silent. If his suspicions were correct, it could well take much longer than that.

“This chamber is just a rendezvous point, Master Rhombur,” Captain Zhaz said. “We’ll await the Earl and follow his orders.”

Rhombur nodded vigorously. “Yes, my father’ll know what to do. He’s been in plenty of challenging military situations before.” He smiled brightly. “Some of them with your own father, Leto.”

Leto clapped a strong hand on the other Prince’s shoulder, in a display of support for his friend. But he didn’t know how many of Dominic Vernius’s previous battle engagements had been desperate defensive measures like this; it was Leto’s impression that Dominic’s victories in the past had always been overwhelming charges against crumbling groups of rebels.

Remembering what his father had taught him—know the details of your surroundings in any difficult circumstance—Leto took a moment to inspect their hideaway. He searched for escape routes, vulnerable points. The algae-chamber had been hacked out of solid crustal rock, with an outer shell of thick green growth that gave the air a sour, organic taint. The bolt-hole had four apartments, an extensive kitchen complete with survival supplies, and a last-chance emergency ship that could make low-planetary orbit.

Frictionless, noiseless machinery operated nullentropy bins at the core of the chamber, keeping food and beverages fresh. Other bins contained clothing, weapons, filmbooks, and clever Ixian games for hidden refugees to while away the time. The endless waiting could be the most difficult part of this protected sanctuary, and boredom was an often-overlooked part of isolation and escape. The Ixians, though, had thought of all necessary preparations.

It was already evening, as determined by their chronos. Zhaz set up his guards in the outer corridors and at the camouflaged doorhatch. Rhombur rattled off an endless stream of questions, most of which the captain could not answer: What was going on outside? Did they dare hope to be freed by Ixian loyalists, or would Tleilaxu invaders imprison them, or worse? Would an Ixian come to notify Rhombur of the death of his parents? Why hadn’t the others shown up at the rendezvous point yet? Did they have any idea how much of the capital city of Vernii remained intact? If not, who could find out for them?

The klaxon of an intruder warning interrupted him. Someone was trying to enter the chamber.

Captain Zhaz flipped out a handheld monitor, pressed a button to illuminate the room and activate a videoscreen. Leto saw three familiar faces pressed close to the comeyes in the secondary corridor— Dominic Vernius, and his daughter Kailea, her dress torn and her coppery hair in disarray. Between them they supported the Lady Shando, who seemed barely conscious, her arm and ribs crudely bandaged.

“Permission to enter,” Dominic said, his voice tinny and granular across the speakers. “Open up, Rhombur. Zhaz! We need medical attention for Shando.” His eyes were shadowed, his teeth very white beneath the bushy mustache.

Rhombur Vernius rushed toward the controls, but the guard captain stopped him with an urgent tug at his arm. “By all the saints and sinners, remember the Face Dancers, young master!” Leto suddenly realized that Tleilaxu shape-shifters could assume familiar guises and walk into the most secure area. Leto held the Ixian Prince’s other arm while Zhaz interrogated and received a countersign. Finally, a message appeared from the shielded chamber’s biometric identity scanner. Confirmed: Earl Dominic Vernius.

“Permission granted,” Rhombur said into the voice pickup. “Come in— Mother, what happened?”

Kailea looked stricken, as if the floor had dropped out from beneath her plans for the future and she still couldn’t believe she was falling. All of the newcomers smelled of sweat and smoke and fear.

“Your sister was scolding the suboids and telling them to get back to work,” Shando said with a bit of mirth shining through her pain. “Very foolish.”

“And some of them were about to do it, too—” the young woman said as a flush of anger blossomed beneath the soot smudges on her cheeks.

“Until one pulled a maula pistol and opened fire. Good thing the man couldn’t aim.” Shando touched her arm and side, wincing at the open wound.

Dominic knocked the guards aside and tore open a medkit to tend his wife’s injuries himself. “Not serious, my love. I’ll be around to kiss the scars later. But you shouldn’t have taken such a risk.”

“Not even to save Kailea?” Shando coughed, and her eyes sparkled with tears. “You would have done the same to protect either of our children— or even Leto Atreides. And don’t you deny it.”

Averting his gaze, Dominic grudgingly nodded. “It still upsets me . . . how close you came to death. Then what would I have left to fight for?” He stroked her hair, and she clasped the palm of his hand against her cheek.

Watching the exchange, Leto could see what had driven a beautiful young concubine to leave her Emperor, and why a war hero had risked Elrood’s wrath to marry her.

Outside in the hidden corridor, half a dozen armed soldiers took up positions again, sealing the access door behind them. On the external-monitor screen, Leto saw the rest of them— shock troops in case of a violent rebel incursion— setting up lascannons, sensors, and sonic defensive equipment in the chamber’s access tube.

Relieved to see his family safe at last, Rhombur hugged his parents and sister. “It’ll be all right,” he said. “You’ll see.”

Despite her wound, the Lady Shando appeared proud and brave, though salty tracks around her reddened eyes showed evidence of tears. Self-consciously, Kailea glanced over at Leto, then dropped her emerald gaze. She looked defeated now, and fragile, without her usual aloof demeanor. He wanted to comfort her, but hesitated. Everything seemed too unsettled now, too frightening.

“We don’t have much time, children,” Dominic said, wiping perspiration from his brow, then rubbing his sweaty biceps, “and this time calls for desperate measures.” His shaved scalp was smudged with someone else’s blood— ally or enemy? Leto wondered. The torn helix insignia dangled from his lapel.

“Then now is not the time to call us children,” Kailea said with surprising strength. “We’re a part of this fight.”

Rhombur stood tall, looking unusually regal beside his broad-shouldered father, rather than spoiled and stocky. “And we’re ready to help you retake Ix. Vernii is our city, and we have to get it back.”

“No, all three of you are going to stay here.” Dominic held up a wide, callused hand to silence Rhombur’s instant objection. “First order of business is to keep the heirs safe. I’ll hear no argument in this. Each moment of arguing takes me away from my people, and they desperately need my leadership right now.”

“You boys are too young to fight,” Shando said, her delicate face now looking hard and unbreakable. “You’re the future of your respective Houses— both of you.”

Dominic came forward to stand in front of Leto and looked him directly in the eye for the first time, as if he finally saw the Atreides boy as a man. “Leto, your father would never forgive me if anything happened to his son. We have already sent a message to the Old Duke, notifying him of the situation. In response, your father has promised limited assistance and has dispatched a rescue mission to take you, Rhombur, and Kailea to safety on Caladan.” Dominic placed beefy hands on the shoulders of his two children— children who now needed to be much more than that. “Duke Atreides will protect you, give you sanctuary from this. It is all he can do for now.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Leto said, his gray eyes flashing. “You should take refuge with House Atreides as well, m’Lord. My father would never turn you away.”

Dominic gave a wan smile. “No doubt Paulus would do exactly as you say— but I cannot, because that would doom my children.”

Rhombur looked over at his sister in alarm. Lady Shando nodded and continued; she and her husband had already discussed the various possibilities. “Rhombur, if you and Kailea live in exile on Caladan, then you may be safe, not worth anyone’s trouble. I suspect that this bloody revolt has been engineered with Imperial influence and support, and all the pieces have fallen into place.”

Rhombur and Kailea stared at each other in disbelief, then at Leto. “Imperial support?”

“Why the Emperor wants Ix, I do not know,” Dominic said, “but Elrood’s grudge is against me and your mother. If I go with you to House Atreides, the hunters will come for all of us. They’ll find some reason to attack Caladan. No, your mother and I have to find a way to draw this fight away from you.”

Rhombur stood indignant. His pale skin flushed. “We can hold out here a while longer, Father. I don’t want to leave you behind.”

“The deal is done, my son. It’s already negotiated. Other than the Atreides rescue operation, there is no help coming— no Imperial Sardaukar to assist us, no Landsraad armies to drive back the Tleilaxu. The suboids are their pawns. We have sent appeals to all the Houses Major and to the Landsraad, but no one will move fast enough. Someone has outmaneuvered us. . . .”

At her husband’s side, Lady Shando held her head high, despite her pain and disheveled appearance. She had been the Lady of a Great House, and an Imperial concubine before that, but first of all she had been lowborn. Shando could be happy even without the riches of an Ixian governorship.

“But what happens to the two of you now?” Leto asked, since Rhombur and Kailea didn’t have the courage to inquire.

“House Vernius will go . . . renegade.” Shando let the word hang in an astonished silence for a heartbeat.

“We’ll take what we can salvage, then Dominic and I will separate and go into hiding. Maybe for years. A few of the most loyal will accompany us, others will flee entirely, still others will stay here, for better or worse. We’ll make new lives for ourselves, and eventually our fortunes will turn again.”

Dominic gave Leto an awkward handshake, not quite the Imperial clasp of fingers, but more the way Old Terrans used to do it, since the Imperium— from the Emperor to all of the Houses Major— had let House Vernius down. Once they declared themselves renegade, the family Vernius would no longer be part of the Imperium.

Shando and Kailea were crying softly as they hugged one another, while Dominic clasped his son by the shoulders. Moments later, Earl Vernius and his wife hurried out through the chamber’s access tube, taking a contingent of guards with them, while Rhombur and his sister held one another and watched them go.

The following morning, the three refugees sat in uncomfortable but efficient suspensor chairs, eating energy bars and drinking Ixap juice. And waiting.

Kailea said little, as if she had lost her energy for fighting the circumstances. Her older brother tried to cheer her up, but to no avail. Isolated here, walled off, they had heard no word from outside, didn’t know if reinforcements had arrived, or if the city continued to burn. . . .

Kailea had cleaned herself up, made a valiant effort to reconstruct her damaged gown and torn lace, and then wore her altered appearance like a badge. “I should have been attending a ball this week,” she said, her voice empty as if all the emotion had been scrubbed from it. “The Solstice of Dur, one of the largest social events on Kaitain. My mother said I could attend one when I was old enough.” She looked over at Leto and gave a mirthless laugh. “Since I could have gotten betrothed to an appropriate husband this year, I must be old enough to attend a dance. Don’t you think?”

She plucked at her torn lace sleeve. Leto didn’t know what to say to her. He tried to think of what Helena would have said to the Vernius daughter. “When we get to Caladan, I’ll have my mother throw a grand ball to welcome you there. Would you like that, Kailea?” He knew the Lady Helena resented the two Ixian children because of her religious bias, but surely his mother would soften her heart, considering the situation. If nothing else, she would never be seen committing a social faux pas.

Kailea’s eyes flared at his suggestion, and Leto shrank back. “What, with fishermen dancing a bawdy jig and rice farmers performing some fertility rite?” Her words cut deep, and Leto felt his world and his heritage to be inadequate for someone like her.

Kailea softened, though, and rested her fingers on Leto’s forearm. “I’m sorry, Leto. Very sorry. It’s just that I wanted so badly to go to Kaitain, to see the Imperial Palace, the wonders of the Court.”

Rhombur sat sullen. “Elrood never would have allowed it, if only because he’s still angry at Mother.”

Kailea got up and paced the small, algae-smelling chamber. “Why did she ever have to leave him? She could have stayed in the Palace, lived her life in luxury— but instead she came here to this . . . cave. A cave that’s now overrun with vermin. If Father really cared for her, would he have asked her to sacrifice so much? It makes no sense.”

Leto tried to console her. “Don’t you believe in love, Kailea? I’ve seen the way your parents look at each other.”

“Of course I believe in love, Leto. But I also believe in common sense, and you have to weigh one against the other.”

Kailea turned her back on them and rummaged in the entertainment files for something to amuse herself. Leto decided not to pursue the matter. Instead, he turned to Rhombur with a suggestion. “We should each take the time to learn how to operate the orship. Just in case.”

After taking a drink of the tart, preserved juice, Leto puckered his lips. “But what if you’re injured— or worse? What do we do then?”

“He’s right, you know,” Kailea said, not even lifting her emerald eyes from the entertainment files. Her voice sounded weary and brittle. “Let’s show him, Rhombur.”

He stared across the table at Leto. “Well, you know how an ornithopter works? Or a shuttle?”

“I learned to pilot a ’thopter by the time I was ten. But the only shuttles I’ve seen were robo-controlled.”

“Brainless machines, performing set functions the same way every time. I hate those things . . . even though we manufacture them.” He took a bite of energy bar. “Well, we used to, anyway. Before the Tleilaxu came.” He lifted his right hand overhead and rubbed the fire-jewel ring that designated him as heir of the Ixian House.

At his signal, a large square in the ceiling dropped smoothly and came to rest on the floor. Looking up through the aperture, Leto saw a sleek silver shape stored above. “Come with me.” Rhombur stepped onto the panel, and Kailea joined him. “We’ll do a systems check.”

As Leto stepped aboard, he felt an upward thrust. The three of them surged through the ceiling and beyond, up the side of a silver airship to a platform high on the craft’s fuselage.

The orship reminded Leto of a space lighter, a small craft with a narrow body and plaz windows. A combination ornithopter-spacecraft, the orship could operate either on-planet or in low orbit. In violation of the Guild’s monopoly on space travel, orships were among the most closely held Ixian secrets, to be employed only as a last resort.

A hatch slid open on the side of the craft, and Leto heard the ship’s systems surround him with a hum of machinery and electronics. Rhombur led the way into a compact command center with two high-backed chairs and glimmering finger-panel controls in front of each. He slid into one seat, and Leto into the other. The resilient sensiform material conformed to their bodies. Soft green lights glowed on the finger panels. Kailea stood behind her brother, her hands on the back of his chair.

With his fingers dancing over the glowing control panels, Rhombur said, “I’m setting yours on tutorial. The ship will teach you how to pilot it.”

Leto’s panel changed color to yellow. Wondering again about the machine-mind taboos of the Butlerian Jihad, he scrunched his face in confusion. How much could this craft think for itself? His mother had warned him about accepting too many things, especially Ixian things, at face value. Through the clear plaz windshield he saw only gray rock outside, the rough interior surface of the algae-chamber.

Rhombur paused. “Uh, I know what’s on your mind, Leto, but this machine does not emulate human thought processes. The suboids just don’t understand. Like our adaptive fighting mek, which scans an adversary to make combat decisions, it doesn’t think—it only reacts, at lightning speed. It reads your movements, anticipates, and responds.”

“That sounds like thinking to me.” In the finger-panel zone before Leto, lights danced within lights.

Kailea sighed with frustration. “The Butlerian Jihad has been over for thousands of years, and still humankind acts as if we’re terrified rodents hiding from shadows. There is an anti-Ixian prejudice throughout the Imperium because we make complex machines. People don’t understand what we do, and misunderstanding breeds suspicion.”

Leto nodded. “Then help me understand. Let’s get started.” He looked at the control panel and tried not to be too impatient. After the past few days, they were all feeling the effects of unrelenting stress.

“Place your fingers over the identity plates,” Rhombur said. “Don’t actually touch the panel. Stay a little above it.”

After doing so, Leto’s body was surrounded by a pale yellow glow that made his skin tingle.

“It’s absorbing the identity components of your body: the shape of your face, tiny scars, fingerprints, hair follicles, retina prints. I’ve instructed the machine to accept your inputs.” When the glow receded, Rhombur said, “You’re authorized now. Activate the tutorial by passing your right thumb over the second row of lights.”

Leto complied, and a synthetic-reality box appeared in front of his eyes depicting an aerial view that passed over craggy mountains and rocky gorges— the same scenery he had observed months ago, the day he’d been unceremoniously stranded outside by the Guild shuttle.

Suddenly sparks filled the air in the hiding chamber below. Explosions and static bursts inundated his ears. The synthetic landscape image went hazy, came into focus again, and faded. Leto’s head rang from the noise.

“They’ve found us already!” Kailea tumbled into a low bulkhead seat behind Leto’s and was automatically surrounded by a personal safety field. Leto felt the warmth of another PSF cocooning him as Rhombur tried to lock himself into the piloting seat.

On the orship’s surveillance screen, Rhombur saw Tleilaxu soldiers and armed suboids filling the hidden chamber’s access tube, firing lasgun bursts to break open the hidden doorways. The attackers were already through the second barrier. Captain Zhaz and a few remaining men lay in smoking mounds on the floor.

Rhombur thrust his hands into the finger-control field, removing the orship from tutorial mode and preparing for actual takeoff. Leto sat back, trying to relinquish command. The external simulation still filled his eyes, distracting him with visions of pristine Ixian landscapes.

Blue light flashed from outside the craft. An explosion rocked all of them. Leto heard Rhombur grunt in pain and shook his head to scatter the rest of the tutorial hologram. The Ixian Prince slumped forward in his chair; blood trickled down his face.

Leto jammed his fingers against the panel, struggling to switch from tutorial to active status, but Rhombur hadn’t finished prepping the ship. Another explosion blasted through the wall of the chamber, strewing algae-covered shards of rock. Ominous figures surged into the main room below.

Rhombur groaned. From beneath them, suboids shouted and pointed up at the ship that held the three refugees. Lasgun fire scorched the stone walls and the orship’s plated hull. Leto activated the auto-launch sequence. Despite his earlier concerns, he now fervently hoped the ship’s interactive computer mind would function efficiently.

The orship shot straight up through a channel, then a rock cap, a layer of snow, and finally into an open sky full of dazzling clouds. Steering with his fingers, Leto narrowly avoided a brilliant stream of laser bursts, automated defenses the rebels had commandeered. He squinted against the sudden sunlight.

Looping high in the stratosphere and trying to get a bead on any enemy that might strike them from space, Leto noticed a hulking Heighliner in low-planetary orbit. Two streaks of light shot out of the massive craft in separate V-patterns— a familiar signal to Leto: Atreides ships.

From the comboard Leto sent an identifier signal in the special battle language his father and teachers had hammered into him. Rescue craft fell in on each side of the orship, acting as escorts. The pilots signaled him to acknowledge his identity. Bursts of purple from the starboard craft pulverized a cloud below, where enemy ships had been concealed.

“Rhombur, are you all right?” Kailea took a moment to assess her brother’s injuries.

The young Vernius heir stirred, put a hand to his head, and groaned. A ceiling-mounted electronics box had struck him on the skull, then shattered on the floor. “Uh, vermilion hells!— didn’t get the blasted PSF activated in time.” He blinked repeatedly, then swiped dark blood from his eyes.

Using his new skills, Leto followed his escort into the safety of the waiting Heighliner, where he saw two large Atreides battle frigates. As his orship hovered inside the hold, a message came over the comsystem in Galach, but he recognized a familiar Caladanian drawl. “Good thing we got the Heighliner to wait an extra hour. Welcome aboard, Prince Leto. Are you and your companions all right? How many survivors?”

He looked over at Rhombur nursing his battered skull. “Three of us, more or less intact. Just get us away from Ix.”

After the orship was parked between Atreides escorts within assigned stalls inside the immense Heighliner hold, Leto looked to each side. Through the portholes of the larger ships he saw uniformed Atreides soldiers in green-and-black livery, familiar hawk crests. He breathed a deep, relieved sigh.

Next he looked with concern at Rhombur, whose sister was wiping blood off his brow with a cloth. Focusing on Leto, the Ixian Prince said, “Well, forget the simulations, friend. It’s always best to learn by doing.”