Read Online Road to Dune by Frank Herbert, Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson - Free Book Online Page B
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controls. Staring down through the whistling gap, Tuek watched the worm turn its wrath on the abandoned spice harvester.
The rescued crew chief hunched on the deck, shaking dust out of his hair and bemoaning the disaster. “Must be twenty sandminers lost! Eight of them freedmen we rehired. All good men.”
Jesse sat numb and exhausted, staring through the aft porthole. “I don’t want to send more crews out until we can protect them. Let the Hoskanners burn in hell. I won’t commit murder!” He shook his head. “I hope some of the new equipment arrives soon. We don’t seem to have benefited much from paying extra for the rush delivery.”
Tuek wanted to chide the nobleman for risking himself, but he would not do that in front of the men. Interestingly, because of Jesse’s actions, the rescued crews looked at him with a strange, newfound respect.
Tuek also viewed the nobleman through fresh eyes. Perhaps Jesse was the sort of leader who could inspire men to overcome their fears, despite bad equipment and dangerous working conditions. The sandminer crews needed that as much as they needed new machines.
Perhaps, despite the tremendous odds they faced, House Linkam would survive after all.
7
Some people keep their secrets. Others build them from scratch.
—DOROTHY MAPES,
reflections
B efore allowing the Linkam family to set foot inside the Hoskanner mansion, General Tuek’s men had scanned it for weapons, traps, electronic eavesdropping devices, and any number of hidden pitfalls. The veteran did find numerous traps, hidden explosives, tiny assassination devices disguised as “security systems,” and poisoned food supplies. He even found two meek-looking household servants who, when stripsearched, displayed small horned-cobra tattoos on their backs signifying their ties to House Hoskanner. The security chief evicted them immediately and sent them to live with the convict laborers in Carthage.
Despite his indignation, Tuek seemed to think these hazards were not serious attempts by the Hoskanner nobleman—more a game to show his contempt for the Linkams. The security chief continued his search, trying to find something more subtle and insidious.
Though Tuek had combed the rooms and corridors to the best of his ability, Dorothy still sensed the old veteran had missed something.
With sharp eyes and attentive skills that, she believed, surpassed Tuek’s, the petite woman studied the various chambers, the architectural layout, even the choices of furnishings, to better understand Jesse’s nemesis. Valdemar Hoskanner had designed this building to flaunt his wealth, to demonstrate his power on Duneworld. He had left signs of his aggressive personality, and perhaps his weaknesses, everywhere.
Hoskanner supervisors and functionaries had shared communal residences with few amenities; their lives centered on work. No doubt they counted the days until they could be rotated home to Gediprime. Those buildings were now inhabited by the loyal staff members from Catalan.
Deeper in the town, the hardened freedmen had dwellings of their own, most of them squalid but private, while the newest convict laborers were assigned to prefab barracks. Duneworld’s environment provided all the security necessary to keep the prisoners from escaping; neither convicts nor freedmen could go anywhere.
Every scrap of moisture was recycled and hoarded. But Valdemar himself, in open defiance of the desert, had built this huge headquarters mansion with cavernous rooms that needed to be sealed and cooled. To Dorothy, with her hard business mindset, the grandiosity seemed unnecessary and profligate. She would have to shut some of the wings and floors down in order to conserve.
As she looked around, Dorothy tried to get into the mindset of their nemesis. This imposing mansion suggested to her the sheer scale of spice exports, the incredible profits. Once she began to realize how high the stakes truly were, Dorothy knew that Valdemar Hoskanner
The rescued crew chief hunched on the deck, shaking dust out of his hair and bemoaning the disaster. “Must be twenty sandminers lost! Eight of them freedmen we rehired. All good men.”
Jesse sat numb and exhausted, staring through the aft porthole. “I don’t want to send more crews out until we can protect them. Let the Hoskanners burn in hell. I won’t commit murder!” He shook his head. “I hope some of the new equipment arrives soon. We don’t seem to have benefited much from paying extra for the rush delivery.”
Tuek wanted to chide the nobleman for risking himself, but he would not do that in front of the men. Interestingly, because of Jesse’s actions, the rescued crews looked at him with a strange, newfound respect.
Tuek also viewed the nobleman through fresh eyes. Perhaps Jesse was the sort of leader who could inspire men to overcome their fears, despite bad equipment and dangerous working conditions. The sandminer crews needed that as much as they needed new machines.
Perhaps, despite the tremendous odds they faced, House Linkam would survive after all.
7
Some people keep their secrets. Others build them from scratch.
—DOROTHY MAPES,
reflections
B efore allowing the Linkam family to set foot inside the Hoskanner mansion, General Tuek’s men had scanned it for weapons, traps, electronic eavesdropping devices, and any number of hidden pitfalls. The veteran did find numerous traps, hidden explosives, tiny assassination devices disguised as “security systems,” and poisoned food supplies. He even found two meek-looking household servants who, when stripsearched, displayed small horned-cobra tattoos on their backs signifying their ties to House Hoskanner. The security chief evicted them immediately and sent them to live with the convict laborers in Carthage.
Despite his indignation, Tuek seemed to think these hazards were not serious attempts by the Hoskanner nobleman—more a game to show his contempt for the Linkams. The security chief continued his search, trying to find something more subtle and insidious.
Though Tuek had combed the rooms and corridors to the best of his ability, Dorothy still sensed the old veteran had missed something.
With sharp eyes and attentive skills that, she believed, surpassed Tuek’s, the petite woman studied the various chambers, the architectural layout, even the choices of furnishings, to better understand Jesse’s nemesis. Valdemar Hoskanner had designed this building to flaunt his wealth, to demonstrate his power on Duneworld. He had left signs of his aggressive personality, and perhaps his weaknesses, everywhere.
Hoskanner supervisors and functionaries had shared communal residences with few amenities; their lives centered on work. No doubt they counted the days until they could be rotated home to Gediprime. Those buildings were now inhabited by the loyal staff members from Catalan.
Deeper in the town, the hardened freedmen had dwellings of their own, most of them squalid but private, while the newest convict laborers were assigned to prefab barracks. Duneworld’s environment provided all the security necessary to keep the prisoners from escaping; neither convicts nor freedmen could go anywhere.
Every scrap of moisture was recycled and hoarded. But Valdemar himself, in open defiance of the desert, had built this huge headquarters mansion with cavernous rooms that needed to be sealed and cooled. To Dorothy, with her hard business mindset, the grandiosity seemed unnecessary and profligate. She would have to shut some of the wings and floors down in order to conserve.
As she looked around, Dorothy tried to get into the mindset of their nemesis. This imposing mansion suggested to her the sheer scale of spice exports, the incredible profits. Once she began to realize how high the stakes truly were, Dorothy knew that Valdemar Hoskanner
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