Despite the day’s momentous victory, Prince Rhombur Vernius knew that many years of struggle remained ahead in order to effectuate a complete restructuring of Ixian society. But he was up to the task.

“We’ll bring in the best investigators and forensics experts,” Duncan said, looking at the still-smoldering wreck of the laboratory complex. “The ventilation is clearing the air, but we still can’t go inside the research pavilion. After the fire goes out, they will comb through every ash for evidence. Something must be left, and with any luck it will be enough to bring Count Fenring— and the Emperor— to justice.”

Rhombur shook his head, holding up a prosthetic arm and looking at the ragged wrist stump. “Even if we are completely victorious here, Shaddam may find some way to worm out of his guilt. If he has that much at stake here, he will try to manipulate the Landsraad against us.”

Duncan gestured toward the dead who lay all around, and at white-uniformed Atreides medics who were tending to the wounded. “Look how many Imperial troops have been killed here. Do you think Shaddam can ignore it? If he cannot cover it up, he will make some excuse for the Sardaukar presence on Ix and accuse us of treason.”

“We did what we had to do,” Rhombur said with a firm shake of his head.

“Nevertheless, House Atreides has taken military action against the Emperor’s soldiers,” Gurney said. “Unless we can find some way to turn this against him, Caladan may be forfeit.”

Stranded and helpless over Arrakis, outraged that his plans had been ruined, and his Imperial presence humiliated before all the Sardaukar, Shaddam issued the most difficult order he had ever given. With jaw clenched and lips curled, he finally turned to old Zum Garon.

“Tell the fleet to stand down.” He drew a deep breath, narrowing his nostrils. “I rescind the order to fire.”

As the Imperial warships drew away from the planet into a higher orbit, he looked at his bridge officers in search of a solution. The Sardaukar remained expressionless, but Shaddam could tell that they blamed him for their situation. Even if he landed on the desert planet’s surface, the Emperor would meet only with disdain from Baron Harkonnen.

I am being made into the laughingstock of the Imperium.

After an uncomfortable silence, he cut off any questions from the officers by snapping, “Await further orders.”

In the end, they waited a full day.

All communications systems on Arrakis remained nonfunctional. Although the Sardaukar fleet could still use its ship-to-ship transmitters, they had no one but themselves to talk to. Marooned.

He locked himself in his private cabin, unable to believe what the Guild had done to him. At any second, he expected the Guild fleet to return so they could see how contrite their Emperor had become.

But with the passage of each hour, his hopes began to wane.

Finally, when he was certain the Sardaukar were on the verge of revolt, a single Heighliner returned, appearing high above the huddled Imperial warships.

Shaddam had to restrain himself from shouting curses at the vessel or demanding that the Guild return him to Kaitain. Every defense or argument that came to mind sounded childish and weak. And so he let the Guild speak first, to make their demands. He hoped he could tolerate their requirements.

The bottom cargo hatch of the Heighliner cracked open, and a single ship descended. A message came to the bridge of the flagship. “We have dispatched a shuttle to retrieve the Emperor. Our representative will bring him back to this Heighliner, where we will continue our discussions.”

Shaddam wanted to rage at the Legate, to insist that no one, not even the Spacing Guild, was in a position to demand his appearance at a meeting. Instead, the humiliated ruler swallowed hard and tried to sound as Imperial as possible. “We shall await the arrival of the shuttle.”

The Emperor had just enough time to change into formal scarlet-and-gold robes, applying all the trappings and badges of office that he could locate on short notice, before the shuttle arrived. He stood in the landing bay to greet the shuttle, a regal figure that should have made entire populations tremble. Uncomfortably, he thought of long-forgotten Mandias the Terrible, whose dusty tomb was hidden in the Imperial necropolis.

He was utterly astonished to see Hasimir Fenring step out of the small Guild ship and gesture him aboard. The Count’s expression warned him not to say a word. At the Emperor’s side, Supreme Bashar Garon stood waiting, as if expecting to accompany Shaddam as a personal bodyguard. But Fenring motioned the old veteran back. “This will be a private meeting. I’ll see what I can do to talk the Emperor and the Guild through this, hmmm?”

Shaddam seethed with rage and embarrassment, and knew the worst was yet to come….

When the shuttle departed again, the two sat in comfortable chairs, gazing through large portholes at a star-studded universe. For ten thousand years, House Corrino had ruled this vast realm. Below them, the cracked brown globe of Arrakis looked austere and ugly, a wart in an empire of jewels.

Shaddam suspected their conversation on board would be recorded by eavesdropping Guild spies. Knowing that, Fenring spoke in code, using a private language the two friends had developed as boys. “Everything on Ix is a disaster, Sire. And I see you haven’t done any better here.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Ajidica deceived us… as I said he would, hmmm?”

“What about the amal? I tasted it myself! All the reports told me it was perfect— the Master Researcher, my Sardaukar commander, even you!”

“That was a Face Dancer, Sire, not me. Amal is a total failure. Test samples caused the two recent Heighliner accidents. I myself watched our Master Researcher die in convulsions from an overdose of the substance. Hmmm.”

Shaddam’s head jerked back involuntarily, and all color drained from his face. “My God, when I think of what I almost did to Arrakis!”

“Amal poisoned your Sardaukar legions on Ix, too, hindering their ability to defend us against the Atreides attackers.”

“Atreides! On Ix? What—”

“Your cousin Duke Leto has used his military to restore Rhombur Vernius to the Grand Palais. The Tleilaxu— and your Sardaukar— have been completely overthrown. In any event, I destroyed all of our research and production facilities. No evidence remains to implicate House Corrino.”

Shaddam purpled, unable to comprehend how completely he had been defeated. “Let us hope.”

“By the way, you will have to inform your Supreme Bashar that his son was killed in the fighting.”

“More disasters.” The hawk-faced Emperor, looking haggard and weary, groaned. “So there is no spice substitute? Nothing?”

“Hmmm, no. Not even a remote possibility.”

The Emperor sank back in his chair and watched the Heighliner grow huge in front of them.

Fenring showed obvious disgust. “If you had succeeded in your foolhardy plan to devastate Arrakis, you would have brought an end not only to your reign, but to the entire Imperium. You would have thrown us back to pre-Jihad space travel.” His voice took on a scolding tone and he extended a finger. “I have warned you time and again not to make such decisions without consulting me first. It will be your downfall.”

The Heighliner swallowed the tiny shuttle like a whale eating a single krill. No Guild representative came to receive the Padishah Emperor, nor did anyone escort him from the shuttle.

While he and Fenring sat alone, waiting for contact, the Navigator activated the Holtzmann engines and folded space, taking the disgraced ruler back to Kaitain, where he would face the consequences of his decisions.