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“
Paul
,
you
can
’
t
think
that
—
”
“
We
’
ve
all
the
evidence
in
our
hands
,
”
he
said
.
“
Right
here
in
this
tent
—
the
tent
itself
,
this
pack
and
its
contents
,
these
stillsuits
.
We
know
the
Guild
wants
a
prohibitive
price
for
weather
satellites
.
We
know
that
—
”
“
What
’
ve
weather
satellites
to
do
with
it
?
”
she
asked
.
“
They
couldn
’
t
possibly
.
.
.
.
”
She
broke
off
.
Paul
sensed
the
hyperalertness
of
his
mind
reading
her
reactions
,
computing
on
minutiae
.
“
You
see
it
now
,
”
he
said
.
“
Satellites
watch
the
terrain
below
.
There
are
things
in
the
deep
desert
that
will
not
bear
frequent
inspection
.
”
“
You
’
re
suggesting
the
Guild
itself
controls
this
planet
?
”
She
was
so
slow
.
“
No
!
”
he
said
.
“
The
Fremen
!
They
’
re
paying
the
Guild
for
privacy
,
paying
in
a
coin
that
’
s
freely
available
to
anyone
with
desert
power
-
spice
.
This
is
more
than
a
second
-
approximation
answer
;
it
’
s
the
straight
-
line
computation
.
Depend
on
it
.
”
“
Paul
,
”
Jessica
said
,
“
you
’
re
not
a
Mentat
yet
;
you
can
’
t
know
for
sure
how
