Baron Harkonnen had to pay for the Suk doctor twice.

He’d thought his massive payment to Richesian Premier Calimar would be sufficient to obtain the services of Dr. Wellington Yueh for as long as would be required to diagnose and treat his debilitating illness. Yueh, though, refused to cooperate.

The sallow Suk doctor was totally absorbed in himself and his technical research on the orbiting laboratory moon of Korona. He showed not the slightest respect or fear when the Baron’s name was mentioned. “I may work for the Richesians,” he said in a firm, humorless voice, “but I do not belong to them.”

Piter de Vries, sent to Richese to work out the confidential details for the Baron, studied the doctor’s aged, wooden features, the oblivious stubbornness. They stood together in a small laboratory office on the artificial research station, a grand satellite that shone in the Richesian sky. Despite the emphatic request of Premier Calimar, narrow-faced Yueh, with long drooping mustaches and a rope of black hair gathered into a silver Suk ring, declined to go to Giedi Prime. Self-confident arrogance, de Vries thought. That can be used against him.

“You, sir, are a Mentat, accustomed to selling your thoughts and intelligence to any patron.” Yueh drew his lips together and studied de Vries as if he were performing an autopsy . . . or wanted to. “I, on the other hand, am a member of the Suk Inner Circle, graduate of full Imperial Conditioning.” He tapped the diamond tattoo on his wrinkled forehead. “I cannot be bought, sold, or rented out. You have no hold over me. Now, please allow me to return to my important work.” He gave a minimal bow before taking his leave to continue research in the Richesian laboratories.

That man has never been put in his place, never been hurt . . . never been broken. Piter de Vries considered it a challenge.

In the governmental buildings of Triad Center, Richesian Premier Calimar’s apologies and posturing meant nothing to de Vries. However, he could easily make use of the man’s authorization to pass through the security gates and guards, to return to the Korona satellite research station. With no choice in the matter, the Mentat went to Dr. Yueh’s sterile medical laboratory. Alone, this time.

Time to renegotiate for the Baron. He did not dare return to Giedi Prime without a fully cooperative Suk doctor.

He moved with mincing steps into a metal-walled room filled with machinery, cables, and preserved body parts in tanks— a mixture of the best Richesian electromechanical technology, Suk surgical equipment, and biological specimens from other animals. The smells of lubricants, rot, chemicals, burned flesh, and burning circuits hung heavy in the cold room, even as the station’s air-recyclers attempted to scrub the contaminants. Several tables contained sinks, metal and plaz piping, snaking cables, dispensing machines. Rising above the dissection areas, shimmering holo blueprints portrayed human limbs as organic machines.

As the Mentat gazed across the laboratory, Yueh’s head suddenly appeared on the other side of one of the counters— lean and grease-smeared, with facial bones so prominent they seemed to be made of metal.

“Please don’t disturb me further, Mentat,” he said in an abrupt voice, preempting conversation. He didn’t even ask how de Vries had found his way back to the restricted Korona moon. The diamond tattoo of Imperial Conditioning glistened on his forehead, buried under a smear of dark lubricant from a careless wipe of his hand. “I am very busy.”

“Still, Doctor, I must speak with you. My Baron commands it.”

Yueh narrowed his eyes, as if imagining how some of his prototype cyborg parts might fit on the Mentat. “I am not interested in your Baron’s medical condition. It is not my area of expertise.” He looked at the laboratory racks and tables filled with experimental prosthetics, as if the answer should be obvious. Yueh remained maddeningly aloof, as if he couldn’t be touched or corrupted by anything.

De Vries approached to within garroting distance of the shorter man, talking all the while. No doubt he would face serious punishment if he was forced to kill this annoying doctor. “My Baron used to be healthy, trim, proud of his physique. Through no change in diet or exercise, he has nearly doubled his body weight in ten years. He suffers from a gradual deterioration of muscular functions and bloating.”

Yueh frowned, but his gaze turned back to the Mentat’s. De Vries caught the flicker of expression and lowered his voice, ready to pounce. “Do those symptoms sound familiar to you, Doctor? Something you’ve seen elsewhere?”

Now Yueh became calculating. He shifted so that racks of test apparatus separated him from the twisted Mentat. A long glass tube continued to bubble and stink on the far side of the chamber. “No Suk doctor gives free advice, Mentat. My expenses here are exorbitant, my research vital.”

De Vries chuckled as his enhanced mind spun through possibilities. “And are you so engrossed in your tinkering, Doctor, that you’ve failed to notice that your patron, House Richese, is nearly bankrupt? Baron Harkonnen’s payment could guarantee your funding for many years.”

The twisted Mentat reached abruptly into his jacket pocket, causing Yueh to flinch, fearing a silent weapon. Instead de Vries brought out a flat black panel with touch pads. The holoprojection of an old-style sea chest appeared, made entirely of gold with precious-gem studs inlaid on its top and sides in the patterns of blue Harkonnen griffins. “After you diagnose my Baron, you could continue your research however you see fit.”

Intrigued, Yueh reached out, so that his hand and forearm passed through the image. With a synthetic squeal, the lid of the holo-image opened to reveal an empty interior. “We will fill this with whatever you please. Melange, soostones, blue obsidian, opafire jewels, Hagal quartz . . . blackmail images. Everyone knows that a Suk doctor can be bought.”

“Then go buy yourself one. Make it a matter of public record.”

“We prefer a more, ah, confidential arrangement, as Premier Calimar promised.”

The sallow old doctor pursed his dark lips again, deep in thought. Yueh’s entire world seemed focused on a small bubble around him, as if no one else existed, no one else mattered. “I cannot provide long-term care, but I could perhaps diagnose the disease.”

De Vries shrugged his bony shoulders. “The Baron doesn’t want you any longer than necessary.”

Staring at the sheer amount of wealth the Mentat was promising him, Yueh imagined how much more productive his work would be here on Korona, given adequate funding. Still, he hesitated. “I have other responsibilities. I have been assigned here by the Suk College for this specific purpose. Cyborg prostheses will be a valuable market for Richese, and us, once proven.”

With a sigh of resignation, de Vries pressed a key on the pad, and the treasure chest became noticeably larger.

Yueh stroked his mustaches. “It might be possible for me to travel between Richese and Giedi Prime— under an assumed identity, of course. I could study your Baron, then return here to continue my work.”

“An interesting idea,” the Mentat said. “So you accept our terms?”

“I agree to examine the patient. And I shall consider what to put in the treasure chest you offer.” Yueh pointed toward a nearby counter. “Now hand me that measuring scope. Since you interrupted, you can help me with constructing a prototype body core.”

Two days later on Giedi Prime, adjusting to the industrial air and the heavier gravity, Yueh examined the Baron in the infirmary of Harkonnen Keep. All doors closed, all windows covered, all servants sent away. Piter de Vries watched through his peephole, grinning.

Yueh discarded the medical files the Baron’s doctors had compiled over the years, documenting the progress of the disease. “Foolish amateurs. I am not interested in them, or their test results.” Opening his diagnostic kit, the doctor withdrew his own set of scanners, complex mechanisms that only a highly trained Suk could decipher. “Remove your clothing, please.”

“Do you want to play?” The Baron tried to retain his dignity, his command of the situation.

“No.”

The Baron distracted himself from the uncomfortable probings and proddings as he considered ways to kill this pompous Suk if he, too, failed to discover the cause of the disease. He drummed his fingertips on the examining table. “None of my physicians could suggest any effective course of treatment. Given the choice of a clean mind or a clean body, I had to take my pick.”

Ignoring the basso voice, Yueh donned a pair of goggles with green lenses. “Suggesting that you strive for both is too much to ask?” He initialized the power pack and scanning routines, then peered at the gross, naked form of his patient. The Baron lay on his belly on the examination couch. He muttered constantly, complaining about pains and discomforts.

Yueh spent several minutes examining the Baron’s skin, his internal organs, his orifices, until a string of subtle clues began to fit together in his mind. Finally, the delicate Suk scanner detected a vector path.

“Your condition appears to be sexually generated. Are you able to use this penis?” Yueh said without the slightest trace of humor. He might have been giving a stock quote.

“Use it?” The Baron gave a rude snort. “Hells and damnations, it’s still the best part of me.”

“Ironic.” Yueh used a scalpel to scrape a sample from the foreskin, and the Baron yelped in surprise. “I need to run an analysis.” The doctor didn’t give the slightest hint of an apology.

With the slender blade Yueh smeared the fragment of skin onto a thin slide and inserted it into a slot in the front underside of his goggles. Using finger controls, he rotated the specimen in front of his eyes, under varying illuminations. The goggle plaz changed color from green to scarlet to lavender. Then he sent the sample through a multistage chemical analysis.

“Was that necessary?” the Baron growled.

“It is only the beginning.” Yueh then removed more instruments— many of them sharp— from his kit. The Baron would have been intrigued, if he’d been able to use the tools on someone else. “I must perform many tests.”

After slipping into a robe, Baron Harkonnen sat back, gray-skinned and sweaty, sore in a thousand places that had not hurt before. Several times he’d wanted to kill this arrogant Suk doctor— but he didn’t dare interfere with the protracted diagnosis. The other physicians had been helpless and stupid; now he would endure whatever was necessary in order to obtain his answer. The Baron hoped the treatment and eventual cure would be less aggressive, less painful than Yueh’s original analysis. He poured from a decanter of kirana brandy and gulped down a mouthful.

“I have reduced the spectrum of possibilities, Baron,” Yueh said, pursing his lips. “Your ailment belongs to a category of rare diseases, narrowly defined, specifically targeted. I can collect another full set of samples, if you would like me to triple-verify the diagnosis?”

“That will not be necessary.” The Baron sat up, gripping his walking stick in case he needed to hit someone with it. “What have you found?”

Yueh droned on, “The transmission vector is obvious, via heterosexual intercourse. You were infected by one of your female lovers.”

The Baron’s momentary elation at finally finding an answer washed away in confusion. “I have no female lovers. Women disgust me.”

“Yes, I see.” Yueh had heard many patients deny the obvious. “The symptoms are so subtly general that I am not surprised less-competent doctors missed it. Even Suk teaching did not initially include a mention of it, and I learned of such intriguing diseases through my wife Wanna. She is a Bene Gesserit, and the Sisterhood occasionally makes use of these disease organisms—”

The Baron lunged into a sitting position on the edge of the examination couch. A firestorm crossed his jowly face. “Those damnable witches!”

“Ah, so now you remember,” Yueh said with smug satisfaction. “When did the contacts occur?”

Hesitation, then: “More than a dozen years ago.”

Yueh stroked his long mustaches. “My Wanna tells me that a Bene Gesserit Reverend Mother is capable of altering her internal chemistry to hold diseases latent in her own body.”

“The bitch!” the Baron roared. “She infected me.”

The doctor did not seem interested in the injustice or the indignity. “More than just passively infected— such a pathogen is released by force of will. This was not an accident, Baron.”

In his mind’s eye the Baron envisioned horse-faced Mohiam, the sneering, disrespectful manner with which she had looked at him during the Fenrings’ banquet. She had known, known all along— had been watching his body transform itself into this loathsome, corpulent lump.

And she had been the cause of it all.

Yueh closed up his goggles and slipped them back into his diagnostic kit. “Our bargain is concluded, and I will take my leave now. I have much research to complete on Richese.”

“You agreed to treat me.” The Baron lost his balance as he tried to surge to his feet. He collapsed back onto the groaning examination couch.

“I agreed to examine you, and no more, Baron. No Suk can do anything for your condition. There is no known treatment, no cure, though I am sure we’ll eventually study it at the Suk College.”

The Baron clenched his walking stick, finally standing. Seething, he thought about the venom-drenched darts hidden in its tip.

But he also understood the political consequences of killing a Suk doctor, if word ever got out. The Suk School had powerful contacts in the Imperium; it might not be worth the pleasure. Besides, he had murdered enough doctors already . . . at least he finally had an answer.

And a legitimate target for his revenge. He knew who had done this to him.

“I’m afraid you must ask the Bene Gesserit, Baron.”

Without another word, Dr. Wellington Yueh hurried out of Harkonnen Keep and fled from Giedi Prime aboard the next Heighliner, glad that he would never have to deal with the Baron again.