It was a long journey back to Caladan. The Heighliner threaded its way along a route in the Imperium, stopping at planet after planet. Among other vessels, the Heighliner’s cargo bay held the small Atreides relief flotilla, with Thufir Hawat aboard the flagship.

After completing his diversionary humanitarian mission to Beakkal, Thufir wanted to be back home in the gray-stone towers of Castle Caladan, high on a cliff overlooking the sea.

His feint against the Sardaukar blockade had been as successful as he could have hoped. He had ruffled the Emperor’s feathers and also delivered the relief supplies. After Shaddam had summoned his commander away, the Atreides flotilla had waited near Beakkal for nine days until another Heighliner arrived to take them on the scheduled route to Caladan.

First out of the hold, a handful of Atreides ships dropped into the cloudy skies of Caladan and were quickly swallowed up in the swirling weather patterns that covered the ocean. Behind the small flotilla, merchant vessels and passenger frigates descended to the spaceport on their regular business runs.

Thufir felt as if he could sleep for three days straight. He had not rested well on this trip, because of all he had needed to accomplish, and because of his concerns about Duncan’s primary assault on Ix. It should be happening at this very moment.

But he would not take that much-needed rest. Not yet. With the Duke away on Kaitain, and most of the Atreides military forces dispatched to Ix, he wanted to make absolutely certain that the remaining military personnel and equipment were set up properly for the defense of the planet. Caladan was too vulnerable.

When his few escort ships settled down at the miltary base adjacent to the Cala Municipal Spaceport, the Mentat was astounded to find no vessels at all, only a few elderly men and women in uniforms, little more than a maintenance staff. A reserve lieutenant told him that Duke Leto had decided to throw everything into the fight for Ix.

Seeing this, Thufir had an uncertain, exposed feeling.

As the heighliner cruised in parking orbit, more ships dropped out in the continuing bustle of space commerce. Later that day, when the immense Guild vessel crossed over the sparsely populated Eastern Continent, a large group of unmarked craft disembarked at the last moment, taking high orbital positions, far from prying eyes….

Even with a pilot as skilled as Hiih Resser, the wings of the scoutship thumped and bounced as it cut through the cold storm currents of Caladan’s upper atmosphere. The redheaded Swordmaster sat behind the controls of a rapid-reconnaissance ship, sent from the hastily gathered Grumman-Harkonnen fleet.

Resser peered down through patchy gaps in the clouds as he soared away from the planet’s nightside, racing the sunset and gaining upon the daylight that lingered over the water.

His lord, Viscount Moritani, was willing to sacrifice everything in a sudden attack. Glossu Rabban, though a brute himself, was more conservative, wanting to know where the force would make its surprise attack and what their chances of success were. Though Resser had sworn his loyalty to the Viscount, after many rigorous oaths and testings, he preferred Rabban’s point of view. Resser frequently disagreed with his lord, in principle, but after years of Swordmaster training he knew his place. His loyalty could not be questioned. He clung to his honor.

As did Duncan Idaho.

Resser remembered the years that he and Duncan had spent on island-dotted Ginaz. They had been fast friends from the beginning and had ultimately fought their way to victory, becoming Swordmasters themselves.

When other students from Grumman had been cast out of Ginaz because of a black dishonor committed by the Viscount, Resser had stayed behind, the only one from his House to complete the training. After graduating and returning to Grumman, he had assumed he would be disgraced and perhaps even executed. Duncan had implored Resser to come to Caladan, to join House Atreides, but the redhead had refused. Bravely, he had gone home anyway. He had kept his honor, and survived.

Because of his fighting and leadership skills, Resser had risen rapidly through the Grumman ranks, attaining the position of Special Forces Commander. For this mission to Caladan, he was second-in-command only to the Viscount himself. But he preferred to work hands on. Resser flew the scoutship himself, and when it came time to fight he would be in the thick of it.

He didn’t look forward to opposing Duncan Idaho, but had no choice. Politics made razor cuts through relationships. Now, as he remembered all the things young Duncan had told him about his beloved and beautiful Caladan, Resser plunged beneath a raft of gray clouds until he could see the landscape, the cities, and the weaknesses of the planet.

He flew in, racing quickly over Cala City, across the river deltas and the lowlands filled with pundi rice farms. He noted the murky swamp of kelp beds out in the shallow waters and the black molars of reefs surrounded by white breakwaters. Resser recognized what he saw. Duncan had told him everything.

As they had sat together reading letters from home, Duncan had shared delicacies sent to him from House Atreides. He had talked about what a good man the Old Duke had been, how Paulus had taken Duncan under his wing as a boy and raised him in the Castle, where the newcomer had proven his loyalty.

Resser heaved a deep sigh, and flew on.

The scoutship flew fast and low, while the redhead drank in the details with his trained eyes. He saw what he needed to, then flew back to the hidden fleet to make his report, unable to reach any other conclusion….

Later, when he stood at attention in front of the Viscount, he announced, “They have left themselves completely vulnerable, my Lord. Caladan will be an easy conquest.”

Alone and concerned, Thufir Hawat stood by the new statues that Leto had erected on the rocky promontory… towering figures of Old Paulus and young Victor Atreides, holding aloft the brazier of an eternal flame.

Out on the calm water, many little boats puttered about, sifting through the kelp, dragging nets, and hunting larger fish. It seemed peaceful. The clouds were patchy as the sun lowered toward the horizon.

The warrior Mentat also saw a single ship flying high and fast. Obviously a reconnaissance craft, a scout. Unmarked.

Detailed projections, first and second order. Thufir predicted what might be occurring, knew he could do little to defend Caladan against an outright attack. He still had a few warships from the escort flotilla, but nothing else remained of the Atreides home defense. Leto had gambled everything on his Ixian campaign… too much, perhaps.

The unmarked scoutship streaked overhead, gathering all of the damning information a spy would need. Looking up at the stony visage of Duke Paulus and then down at the innocent face of Victor, the Mentat of House Atreides was reminded of his past mistakes.

“I dare not fail you again, my Duke,” he said aloud to the colossus. “Nor can I let Leto down. But I wish I had some answer, some way to protect this beautiful world.”

Thufir gazed across the ocean, saw the ragtag fleet of fishing boats scattered at random across the waters. This conundrum would require all of his Mentat skill to solve, and he hoped that would be enough.