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And
all
the
Atreides
dead
!
The
stupid
guard
captain
had
been
right
,
of
course
.
Certainly
,
nothing
survived
in
the
path
of
a
sandblast
storm
on
Arrakis
.
Not
an
ornithopter
.
.
.
or
its
occupants
.
The
woman
and
the
boy
were
dead
.
The
bribes
in
the
right
places
,
the
unthinkable
expenditure
to
bring
overwhelming
military
force
down
onto
one
planet
.
.
.
all
the
sly
reports
tailored
for
the
Emperor
’
s
ears
alone
,
all
the
careful
scheming
were
here
at
last
coming
to
full
fruition
.
Power
andfear
—
fearand
power
!
The
Baron
could
see
the
path
ahead
of
him
.
One
day
,
a
Harkonnen
would
be
Emperor
.
Not
himself
,
and
no
spawn
of
his
loins
.
But
a
Harkonnen
.
Not
this
Rabban
he
’
d
summoned
,
of
course
.
But
Rabban
’
s
younger
brother
,
young
Feyd
-
Rautha
.
There
was
a
sharpness
to
the
boy
that
the
Baron
enjoyed
.
.
.
a
ferocity
.
A
lovely
boy
,
the
Baron
thought
.
A
year
or
two
more
—
say
,
by
the
time
he
’
s
seventeen
,
I
’
ll
know
for
certain
whether
he
’
s
the
tool
that
House
Harkonnen
requires
to
gain
the
throne
.
“
M
’
Lord
Baron
.
”
The
man
who
stood
outside
the
doorfield
of
the
Baron
’
s
bedchamber
was
low
built
,
gross
of
face
and
body
,
with
the
Harkonnen
paternal
line
’
s
narrow
-
set
eyes
and
bulge
of
shoulders
.
There
was
yet
some
rigidity
in
his
fat
,
but
it
was
obvious
to
the
eye
that
he
’
d
come
one
day
to
the
portable
suspensors
for
carrying
his
excess
weight
.
A
muscle
-
minded
tank
-
brain
,
the
Baron
thought
.
No
Mentat
,
my
nephew
.
.
.
not
a
Piter
de
Vries
,
but
perhaps
something
more
precisely
devised
for
the
task
at
hand
.
If
I
give
him
freedom
to
do
it
,
he
’
ll
grind
over
everything
in
his
path
.
Oh
,
how
he
’
ll
be
hated
here
on
Arrakis
!
