Read Online Road to Dune by Frank Herbert, Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson - Free Book Online Page A
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the techniques.
Finally, the fast transport reached the weathered spice harvester sitting in the orange-and-brown sand. The quiet machine looked like a frightened rabbit huddling motionless, hoping not to be noticed.
“A rich, rich vein,” English said, his voice dismal. “A shame to just abandon it.”
“We’ll salvage what we can from the cargo holds—if there’s time,” Jesse said, watching tensely. “The crews made a good haul before they got into trouble. I’ve already called for help from the Carthage shipping yards. More carriers are on the way.”
As the rescue transport arrived, a flurry of small ornijets rushed in from the west. Hovering overhead, five of them dipped vacuum tubes into the harvester’s cargo hold, sucking up melange like hummingbirds sipping nectar.
Tuek dropped a rescue chute onto the sand beside the massive vehicle and switched on the mechanism’s motor. “Put it in reverse,” Jesse ordered. “I’m going down myself.”
“My Lord, you don’t need to do that. With all this increased activity, a worm will come soon. Bet on it!”
“I didn’t ask your opinion, General.” Hearing the rebuke in the nobleman’s voice, Tuek did as he was told.
“Wormsign! Less than twenty minutes out!” English shouted, listening to a report from the ornijet scouts. “They have to hurry! Get salvage crews right now—off-load the spice! Save the melange!”
“Damn the spice!” Jesse called. “Save the men!”
He rode the stepped conveyor down to the sand. More than fifty sandminers had already boiled out of the harvester, seasoned freedmen and convicts still working off their sentences, along with new arrivals from Catalan. Jesse urged the men into the rescue chute. From above, Tuek barely heard their voices over the machinery sounds as he reset the conveyor.
Tuek saw a mound of sand coming toward the shut-down harvester. The old veteran set the conveyor to ascend as rapidly as possible. More and more men made it to safety.
Gurney said, “That machine’s already scrap metal for the worms.”
Desperate crewmen streamed out of the stranded harvester and ran across the sand toward the rescue chute. Dust-encrusted workers began to spill into the transport ship, spreading through the passenger compartment. English and Tuek guided them to the back, shouting for the men to cram together. “Faster! Worm’s coming! Faster, damn you!”
Moments later, Jesse tumbled into the passenger compartment himself, staggering with an injured sandminer over his shoulder; the man’s sleeve was torn and bloody, his arm bent at an unnatural angle. Tuek grabbed him, taking the weight from Jesse. “Here, My Lord. Let me help.”
“Take him, Esmar! There’s still more down there! More men!”
Wrestling the nobleman clear, Tuek looked back down the chute, where six frantic sandminers scrambled onto the rescue conveyor. Relieved of the injured man, Jesse turned, ready to climb back down and lend more assistance on the ground.
Then a giant mouth ringed with glittering crystal teeth broke through the sand and shot up toward the bottom of the chute. Tuek smelled a nauseatingly strong belch of cinnamon, and felt the heat of the monster’s exhalations. Four men screamed as they tumbled into the maw.
The straining transport lurched into the air, and then the worm seized the end of the conveyor. English shouted from the cockpit, and Gurney lifted the ship higher, until the chute finally tore free. Suddenly loose, the aircraft recoiled up into the hot desert sky. Two remaining workers dangled from the torn end, trying desperately to hold on.
The blind worm sensed the clinging sandminers, and with a more vigorous lunge the beast bit off the rest of the chute, taking them with it.
Inside the passenger compartment, the terrified crewmen screamed. The transport craft spun and wavered unsteadily in the air, struggling to pull away.
“Higher!” English shouted.
Gurney responded, optimizing the kinetic
Finally, the fast transport reached the weathered spice harvester sitting in the orange-and-brown sand. The quiet machine looked like a frightened rabbit huddling motionless, hoping not to be noticed.
“A rich, rich vein,” English said, his voice dismal. “A shame to just abandon it.”
“We’ll salvage what we can from the cargo holds—if there’s time,” Jesse said, watching tensely. “The crews made a good haul before they got into trouble. I’ve already called for help from the Carthage shipping yards. More carriers are on the way.”
As the rescue transport arrived, a flurry of small ornijets rushed in from the west. Hovering overhead, five of them dipped vacuum tubes into the harvester’s cargo hold, sucking up melange like hummingbirds sipping nectar.
Tuek dropped a rescue chute onto the sand beside the massive vehicle and switched on the mechanism’s motor. “Put it in reverse,” Jesse ordered. “I’m going down myself.”
“My Lord, you don’t need to do that. With all this increased activity, a worm will come soon. Bet on it!”
“I didn’t ask your opinion, General.” Hearing the rebuke in the nobleman’s voice, Tuek did as he was told.
“Wormsign! Less than twenty minutes out!” English shouted, listening to a report from the ornijet scouts. “They have to hurry! Get salvage crews right now—off-load the spice! Save the melange!”
“Damn the spice!” Jesse called. “Save the men!”
He rode the stepped conveyor down to the sand. More than fifty sandminers had already boiled out of the harvester, seasoned freedmen and convicts still working off their sentences, along with new arrivals from Catalan. Jesse urged the men into the rescue chute. From above, Tuek barely heard their voices over the machinery sounds as he reset the conveyor.
Tuek saw a mound of sand coming toward the shut-down harvester. The old veteran set the conveyor to ascend as rapidly as possible. More and more men made it to safety.
Gurney said, “That machine’s already scrap metal for the worms.”
Desperate crewmen streamed out of the stranded harvester and ran across the sand toward the rescue chute. Dust-encrusted workers began to spill into the transport ship, spreading through the passenger compartment. English and Tuek guided them to the back, shouting for the men to cram together. “Faster! Worm’s coming! Faster, damn you!”
Moments later, Jesse tumbled into the passenger compartment himself, staggering with an injured sandminer over his shoulder; the man’s sleeve was torn and bloody, his arm bent at an unnatural angle. Tuek grabbed him, taking the weight from Jesse. “Here, My Lord. Let me help.”
“Take him, Esmar! There’s still more down there! More men!”
Wrestling the nobleman clear, Tuek looked back down the chute, where six frantic sandminers scrambled onto the rescue conveyor. Relieved of the injured man, Jesse turned, ready to climb back down and lend more assistance on the ground.
Then a giant mouth ringed with glittering crystal teeth broke through the sand and shot up toward the bottom of the chute. Tuek smelled a nauseatingly strong belch of cinnamon, and felt the heat of the monster’s exhalations. Four men screamed as they tumbled into the maw.
The straining transport lurched into the air, and then the worm seized the end of the conveyor. English shouted from the cockpit, and Gurney lifted the ship higher, until the chute finally tore free. Suddenly loose, the aircraft recoiled up into the hot desert sky. Two remaining workers dangled from the torn end, trying desperately to hold on.
The blind worm sensed the clinging sandminers, and with a more vigorous lunge the beast bit off the rest of the chute, taking them with it.
Inside the passenger compartment, the terrified crewmen screamed. The transport craft spun and wavered unsteadily in the air, struggling to pull away.
“Higher!” English shouted.
Gurney responded, optimizing the kinetic
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