Dune

“Properly suited, your forehead cap tight, all seals in order, your major water loss is through the palms of your hands,” Kynes said. “You can wear suit gloves if you’re not using your hands for critical work, but most Fremen in the open desert rub their hands with juice from the leaves of the creosote bush. It inhibits perspiration.”

The Duke glanced down to the left at the broken landscape of the Shield Wall—chasms of tortured rock, patches of yellow-brown crossed by black lines of fault shattering. It was as though someone had dropped this ground from space and left it where it smashed.

They crossed a shallow basin with the clear outline of gray sand spreading across it from a canyon opening to the south. The sand fingers ran out into the basin—a dry delta outlined against darker rock.

Kynes sat back, thinking about the water-fat flesh he had felt beneath the stillsuits. They wore shield belts over their robes, slow pellet stunners at the waist, coin-sized emergency transmitters on cords around their necks. Both the Duke and his son carried knives in wrist sheaths and the sheaths appeared well worn. The people struck Kynes as a strange combination of softness and armed strength. There was a poise to them totally unlike the Harkonnens.

“When you report to the Emperor on the change of government here, will you say we observed the rules?” Leto asked. He glanced at Kynes, back to their course.

“The Harkonnens left; you came,” Kynes said.

“And is everything as it should be?” Leto asked.

Momentary tension showed in the tightening of a muscle along Kynes’ jaw. “As Planetologist and Judge of the Change, I am a direct subject of the Imperium…my Lord.”

The Duke smiled grimly. “But we both know the realities.”

“I remind you that His Majesty supports my work.”

“Indeed? And what is your work?”

In the brief silence, Paul thought: He’s pushing this Kynes too hard. Paul glanced at Halleck, but the minstrel-warrior was staring out at the barren landscape.

Kynes spoke stiffly: “You, of course, refer to my duties as planetologist.”

“Of course.”

“It is mostly dry land biology and botany…some geological work—core drilling and testing. You never really exhaust the possibilities of an entire planet.”

“Do you also investigate the spice?”

Kynes turned, and Paul noted the hard line of the man’s cheek. “A curious question, my Lord.”

“Bear in mind, Kynes, that this is now my fief. My methods differ from those of the Harkonnens. I don’t care if you study the spice as long as I share what you discover.” He glanced at the planetologist. “The Harkonnens discouraged investigation of the spice, didn’t they?”

Kynes stared back without answering.

“You may speak plainly,” the Duke said, “without fear for your skin.”

“The Imperial Court is, indeed, a long way off,” Kynes muttered. And he thought: What does this water-soft invader expect? Does he think me fool enough to enlist with him?

The Duke chuckled, keeping his attention on their course. “I detect a sour note in your voice, sir. We’ve waded in here with our mob of tame killers, eh? And we expect you to realize immediately that we’re different from the Harkonnens?”

“I’ve seen the propaganda you’ve flooded into sietch and village,” Kynes said. “‘Love the good Duke!’ Your corps of—”

“Here now!” Halleck barked. He snapped his attention away from the window, leaned forward.

Paul put a hand on Halleck’s arm.

“Gurney!” the Duke said. He glanced back. “This man’s been long under the Harkonnens.”

Halleck sat back. “Ayah.”

“Your man Hawat’s subtle,” Kynes said, “but his object’s plain enough.”

“Will you open those bases to us, then?” the Duke asked.

Kynes spoke curtly: “They’re His Majesty’s property.”

“They’re not being used.”

“They could be used.”

“Does His Majesty concur?”

Kynes darted a hard stare at the Duke. “Arrakis could be an Eden if its rulers would look up from grubbing for spice!”

He didn’t answer my question, the Duke thought. And he said: “How is a planet to become an Eden without money?”

“What is money,” Kynes asked, “if it won’t buy the services you need?”

Ah, now! the Duke thought. And he said: “We’ll discuss this another time. Right now, I believe we’re coming to the edge of the Shield Wall. Do I hold the same course?”

“The same course,” Kynes muttered.

Paul looked out his window. Beneath them, the broken ground began to drop away in tumbled creases toward a barren rock plain and a knife-edged shelf. Beyond the shelf, fingernail crescents of dunes marched toward the horizon with here and there in the distance a dull smudge, a darker blotch to tell of something not sand. Rock outcroppings, perhaps. In the heat-addled air, Paul couldn’t be sure.

“Are there any plants down there?” Paul asked.