Back home on Giedi Prime, Glossu Rabban enjoyed being in charge of Harkonnen Keep. From the high, stone-walled fortress, he could command the servants, announce his own gladiatorial tournaments, and keep the population under firm control. It was his privilege as a noble of the Landsraad.

Better still, he had no wily Mentat to breathe down his neck or criticize him for everything he tried to do. Piter de Vries was playing his diplomatic spy games on Kaitain. And Rabban’s uncle had remained on Arrakis to monitor the complex spice operations under the threat of CHOAM inspections and audits.

Which left the Beast alone and in charge.

He was technically the na-Baron, the heir apparent to House Harkonnen, though the Baron had often threatened to change his mind and cede control to young Feyd-Rautha. Unless Rabban could find some way to prove himself invaluable.

He stood in the Keep’s east wing at the animal pens, where the stench of the hounds hung dense and feral in the corridors. Wet fur and blood, saliva and feces, piled up and grew old as the animals thrashed in their pit enclosure below the walkway. With gleaming black eyes, the dogs fought for a glimpse of daylight or a scrap of fresh meat, snapping at imaginary enemies with their long fangs. Like the alpha male of the pack, Rabban growled back at the hounds, curling his thick lips to expose uneven white teeth.

Squatting, he reached into a cage at the edge of the walkway and yanked out a squirming simian rabbit. The creature’s eyes were huge and round, its ears floppy. Its prehensile tail twitched, as it feared for its life, yet longed for affection. Rabban’s strong fingers gripped the folds of soft skin and warm fur so tightly that the creature trembled. He held it high to let the hounds see the morsel of food.

In the kennel pit, the animals began to bark and snarl, leaping high. Their claws skittered on slimy stone walls, but the hounds fell short of the kennel edge. The furry creature in Rabban’s grip flinched and kicked, trying to escape from the nightmare of snapping jaws.

A voice interrupted from behind, shockingly close. “Maintaining your image, Beast?”

The interruption startled him so much that he inadvertently released his grip. The simian rabbit dropped, flailing, toward the pit. One leaping hound— a big gray Bruweiler— snatched it from the air and tore the scrap of food to bloody shreds before the doomed victim could even make a squeak.

Rabban whirled to see the dark-haired, fiery-eyed Viscount Hundro Moritani standing behind him. The man’s big-knuckled hands were propped on his scale-armored jodhpurs; broad epaulets flared on his surcoat made of crimson overlapping silkscales.

Before Rabban could splutter a reply, Captain Kryubi, head of the Harkonnen House Guard, hurried up at a brisk pace, followed by an agitated-looking aide, who also wore the shoulder pads and lapel crest of House Moritani.

“I’m sorry, m’Lord Rabban,” Kryubi said, out of breath. “The Viscount proceeded without my permission. While I was attempting to locate you, he—”

The Grumman leader just smiled.

Rabban waved Kryubi to silence. “We’ll deal with that later, Captain, if this turns out to be a waste of my time.” Feeling slightly off-balance, he turned his broad shoulders and looked Moritani straight in the eye. “What do you want?” Technically, the Viscount outranked him in the Landsraad, and the man had already proven his vengeful temper against House Ecaz as well as the Swordmasters of Ginaz.

“I want to offer you a chance to join me in an enjoyable strategic game.”

Trying to regain his composure, Rabban grabbed another simian rabbit from the cage. He held the creature by the back of its neck so that no matter how it flipped its prehensile tail, it could not get a grasp on Rabban’s wrist.

“I thought only House Harkonnen would enjoy the irony as much as I,” Moritani continued. “I also thought you would be willing to seize the opportunity Duke Leto’s poor planning has presented to us.”

Rabban dangled the rabbit over the hound pen. The dogs snapped and growled, trying to reach the tantalizing treat, but the Beast held it far out of their reach. The terrified, writhing rabbit released its bladder, and a stream of urine rained down into the pen, but the dogs didn’t seem to mind. When Rabban felt the creature had reached the peak of its fear, he flung it with disgust to the dogs. “So explain yourself. I’m waiting. What does House Atreides have to do with this?”

The Viscount raised his bushy eyebrows. “I believe that you have even less love for Duke Leto Atreides than do I.”

Rabban glowered. “Any fool knows that much.”

“At this very moment, Duke Leto is on his way to Kaitain. He is scheduled to speak before the Landsraad.”

“So? Do you expect me to rush to Kaitain for a front-row seat?”

The Viscount smiled patiently, like a parent waiting for a child to understand a point. “His Mentat, Thufir Hawat, has apparently gone to deliver supplies to Beakkal. And“— Moritani held up his index finger— “without any fanfare, Leto has dispatched virtually all House Atreides troops and ships on a secret military mission.”

“To where? How did you find out about this?”

“I found out about it, Beast Rabban, because one cannot move a force of that size, filling so many Guild ships, without attracting notice from even the most incompetent of spies.”

“All right,” Rabban said. The wheels in his mind spun, but found no traction. “So you know about it. Where is this Atreides task force going? Is Giedi Prime in danger?”

“Oh, not Giedi Prime— House Atreides is much too civilized for an underhanded action like that. In fact, I’m not concerned about their target, so long as it’s not you or me.”

“So why should I care?”

“Rabban, if you do your mathematics correctly, you will realize that these careful and coordinated Atreides movements leave Leto’s beloved Caladan protected by only a skeleton force. If we make a concentrated military strike now, we could strip him of his ancestral home.”

The simian rabbits in the cage squeaked and squirmed, and Rabban kicked the mesh bars, but that only served to heighten their agitation. Kryubi stood back, his thin mustache wrinkling as he pursed his lips in contemplation. The guard captain would not speak or offer tactical advice unless Rabban specifically requested it.

The nervous-looking aide hurried to Moritani’s side. “My Viscount, you know that it is not wise. Striking a planet without giving fair warning, without first filing a dispute with the Landsraad, and without formally challenging an opposing noble House goes strictly against the rules of kanly. You know the forms as well as anyone, sir. You—”

“Silence,” the Viscount said without raising his voice even slightly. The aide clamped his mouth shut with an audible click. But Rabban had wanted to hear the answers to the aide’s objections, because the agitated man was raising questions he himself hadn’t wanted to ask for fear of looking like a coward.

“May I?” Moritani asked, and reached into the rabbit cage. He grabbed a squirming ball of fur and held it up over the pit. “Interesting. Do you ever place bets on which hound will get the prey?”

Rabban shook his head. “This is just feeding.”

The Viscount let go. Again the large gray Bruweiler outleaped his companions and snatched the rabbit out of the air. Rabban decided to cull that aggressive dog and turn it loose in the next gladiatorial event.

“Rules are for old men who prefer to walk in the wheel ruts of history,” the Viscount said. He had brutally attacked his archrival House Ecaz by carpet-bombing the entire capital peninsula, killing the Archduke’s eldest daughter and rekindling a feud that had simmered for generations.

“Indeed, and you’ve faced years of Imperial sanctions for breaking the rules,” Rabban said. “Sardaukar troops stationed on your world, commerce interrupted.”

The Grumman lord didn’t seem to care a bit. “Yes, but that’s all over now.”

Years ago, when Duke Leto had tried to broker a peace between Moritani and Ecaz, he had shown bias in favor of House Ecaz, might even have been betrothed to a daughter of the Archduke at one time. But vengeance didn’t enter into Moritani’s proposal as much as simple exploitation of an opportunity.

“Still, I am forbidden from moving many troops because of Shaddam’s strictures. I brought as many as I could comfortably slip away from the observers—”

“Here? To Giedi Prime?” Rabban was alarmed.

“Just a friendly visit.” Moritani shrugged. “It occurred to me, however, that House Harkonnen can launch as much military force as it wishes with no added scrutiny. So I ask you now, will you join me in this daring enterprise?”

Rabban took a deep breath, shocked into momentary silence. Kryubi shuffled his feet uneasily, but said nothing. “You want Harkonnen troops to join yours? Grummans and Harkonnens attacking Caladan—”

“At the moment, Caladan has almost no defenses,” Moritani reminded him. “According to our intelligence report, only a few youths and old men with small weapons remain. But we must act quickly, for Leto won’t leave his doors wide-open for long. What have you got to lose? Let’s go!”

“Duke Leto may also be counting on the rules of kanly, to which all Houses are bound, sir,” Kryubi said in a dry voice. “ ’The forms must be obeyed.’ ”

The nervous aide straightened his lapel crest and beseeched his master, “My Lord Viscount, this action is too rash. I beg you to reconsider—”

With a sharp and vicious move of his shoulder, Hundro Moritani knocked his own aide sprawling over the edge and down into the kennel pit. Unlike the rabbits, the aide had time to scream as the hounds attacked him.

The Grumman smiled at Rabban. “Sometimes, one must act unexpectedly in order to secure the greatest benefit.”

The aide stopped squirming below, and the hungry animals tore his body apart. Rabban could hear the wet, ripping sound of meat, the sharp cracks of leg bones being broken open for their fresh, hot marrow.

He nodded slowly, ominously. “Caladan will be ours. I like the sound of that.”

“Under joint occupation,” Moritani said.

“Yes, of course. And how do you propose that we defend our prize once we take it? As soon as the Duke returns, he’ll have his force— assuming he doesn’t lose it somewhere.”

Moritani smiled. “To begin, we make certain no messages leave Caladan. After our forces are successful, we restrict shuttle transport to and from any arriving Heighliners.”

“And we set up a surprise party for Duke Leto when he comes back!” Rabban said. “We ambush him as soon as he lands.”

“Exactly. We can work out the details together. We may also need to bring in reinforcements after the fact, a full occupation force to subdue the populace.”

The coarse Harkonnen heir set his thick lips in a firm line. The last time he had taken matters into his own hands, he had crashed the only existing no-ship on Wallach IX. He’d attempted to attack the smug Bene Gesserit witches who had contaminated the Baron with their disease. Back then, Rabban had thought his uncle would be proud of him for acting independently. Instead, the plan had not gone well, and the priceless ship had been lost….

This time, however, he knew his uncle wouldn’t hesitate, given such an opportunity to strike against the mortal enemies of House Harkonnen. Cautiously, he looked over at the Viscount. Captain Kryubi gave a silent but well-considered nod of assent.

“So long as we use unmarked ships, Viscount,” Rabban said. “We make it look like a big trade delegation or something… anything but a military force.”

“You have brains, Count Rabban. I think we will work well together.”

Rabban beamed at the compliment. Hopefully this bold decision would show his uncle how smart the Beast really was.

They shook hands on the deal. Below, the sounds of feeding faded, and the bristling muscular hounds looked up from their kennel, hoping for more.