Navigators of Dune

89

After much soul-searching, Willem Atreides knew that his clearest path lay here on Salusa Secundus, building himself up in the Imperium. He had done as Vorian asked, although with a heavy heart. Vor had made his wishes quite explicit.

A generous Korla had delivered the young man to Salusa as promised, in a trading ship filled with treasures salvaged from Corrin. Willem had not known what to expect when he arrived in Zimia and presented his credentials, invoking the Atreides name. But, just as Vor had said, the Palace did have a place for him after all, along with a substantial fund for all of his expenses. He had everything he needed to build a noble family and make his mark on the Landsraad.

He had a chance, a future, whatever he could achieve for himself.

Willem had been a nobody on Caladan, a member of the air-rescue service along with his brother, and now he was a minor nobleman. He had even received a message from Princess Harmona of Chusuk, that she looked forward to finding important Landsraad business that would take her to Salusa Secundus so she could see him again. His heart warmed at the thought, and he could not wait to be with her.

The Landsraad League was still crystallizing, and not every planet had a ruler who was part of the Imperial Parliament. Caladan was considered a distant and insignificant world, but if the young man built his reputation and earned respect, and if the Emperor himself took notice of him, then perhaps Willem could become Caladan’s provisional Landsraad representative. Vorian had instilled a steely resolve in him. He was an Atreides, and knew he could do it.

At court, Willem would attempt to advance himself through his dedication and good work, as Vor would have wanted. Objectively, his future looked bright indeed.

But he was his own man, with his own conscience and responsibilities … and it was his older brother who had been killed so brutally. He expected to learn things here in the court by developing important contacts. And perhaps, through any political influence he gained, he could do something good in Orry’s name.

Now, with the violent death of his mentor, the need for Atreides revenge had only increased. Although Vor had insisted that he wanted the blood feud to end, he could not have anticipated his own assassination the way it happened, through Harkonnen treachery. Surely, he would not have wanted Willem to ignore that!

Tula had gotten away with murder, and the fact that she carried Orry’s child did not absolve her in the least. He could not forget the pleased expression on Valya Harkonnen’s face as she watched Vor’s ship explode in the air, and then she and her sister had returned to Wallach IX, where Willem would never be able to reach them.

The Harkonnens had their vengeance, but he didn’t have his, nor was he sure he ever would. Yet for honor, Willem could not ignore his own blood responsibility.…

Back on Caladan, he had heard stories that the Imperial Court was populated by useless dandies, and in the two weeks he had been here, Willem saw that the assessment was essentially accurate. He took heart, though, to hear that Emperor Roderick had vowed to change the situation, promising to make the courtiers perform useful services to the Imperium. Willem would see if such a thing truly came to pass.

This morning, as he gathered with others on the Palace’s upper rooftop landing zone, he knew the new arrivals at court were about to see their circumstances change. Willem was surprised but not shocked by what the Emperor intended to do. He had never been afraid of hard work himself, but many of these others seemed completely unprepared.

Unlike the pampered people around him, Willem wore serviceable clothes without lace or frippery. New and fresh-faced, he’d met only a handful of his comrades here, and had kept a low profile. This day’s adventure would be no lighthearted gala or private party at some nobleman’s estate, as most of these attendees would prefer. He smiled to himself, thinking of how much good it would do them to help others.

In the river delta remote from the lavish towers of the capital, outlying villages were filled with people who lived without the opulence or conveniences of Zimia — not because they adhered to strict Butlerian beliefs, but because they had nothing else. Since these people caused no trouble and made no demands, Salvador had paid little attention to their isolated settlements, but the recent flood disaster had changed everything. Haditha had already done great work to rescue and aid as many of the victims as possible, but much more needed to be done.

In celebration of his new Imperium, Roderick made no secret that he intended to create a golden age of human civilization. “And that includes everyone. We will start here at home, with these people who need it the most.”

The Emperor had announced he would bring several groups from court out to the disaster site. The sycophants and glory hounds, the opportunists and fops who simply wanted to bask in the halo of the Imperial presence, would now get their hands dirty. Willem was perfectly happy with that — in fact, he was eager to do something worthwhile. Vorian had established him at court, providing whatever the young man needed, but Willem wanted to earn whatever he received. As he had promised Vor, he would do the best he could for himself and for House Atreides.

At the landing zone in the rear of the sprawling Palace, Emperor Roderick had ordered the preparation of transport ships that would be filled with aristocrats, seasoned hangers-on, and young nobles who had come to serve after their families made special arrangements for them.

Before the large groups boarded, the Emperor addressed them all in a somber voice. “As most of you know, a tragic flood struck the river delta last month, ruining villages and displacing thousands of people. Our home guard swept in for the rescue effort and delivered shipments of additional supplies. Empress Haditha has led our efforts to help the needy there, but a tremendous amount remains to be done.” He hardened his voice so that the new members of court could understand his meaning. “You are all going to help — it is your duty as nobles in the Imperium.”

Roderick frowned at the colorful and inappropriately dressed crowd as they boarded. Some of the courtiers made uneasy sounds, but he continued, “When you all arrived at the Palace, you thought you came for gala banquets, costume balls, and court gossip, but as your Emperor I require more from you. This is how you can best serve the Imperium, how you can best serve me.”

Nearly two hundred privileged men and women boarded the three vessels. Some were excited, as if they were about to embark on an outing to see cultural displays in quaint villages. From his experiences in the air-rescue service on Caladan, however, Willem had seen natural disasters up close. He knew that the aftermath of the flood would not be pretty, but he was ready to pitch in and do his best to reduce human suffering and makes lives better. Hopefully he could gain the Emperor’s notice on his own merits, rather than relying on Vorian’s recommendation.

The line moved forward, and Willem glanced around as the other courtiers filed aboard the aircraft. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted an oddly familiar dark-haired young man who stepped up the ramp onto the second carrier, but the line moved forward before he could get a better glimpse. Willem put it out of his mind, and a few minutes later he boarded the crowded third transport.

After an hour’s flight across the continent, the trio of transports arrived in the wide, sloppy mudflat where the delta villages had been. The river waters had receded, but the towns were not yet rebuilt. What had once been a trading outpost town on the river had been erased from its foundations, and although temporary buildings were now erected, the place was still no more than a squalid encampment.

When the transports landed on a flat polymerized area that served as a temporary landing field, many of the courtiers with Willem looked queasy, as if this was not at all what they had expected to see. “Shouldn’t this all be cleaned up and reconstructed by now?” asked one young lordling, the third son of House Yardin. “What is taking the home guard so long?”

“I thought Empress Haditha had already managed the disaster,” said another with a distasteful frown. “It does not look anywhere near finished.”

Willem said to him, “That’s why we’re here — to do what needs to be done.” He was among the first down the ramp, while many of his companions hesitated, obviously not wishing to get mud on their fancy shoes and garments.

Dozens of refugees hurried forward from the temporary camp, looking dirty and hungry. Emperor Roderick had gone ahead in his own faster transport, and now he stood next to a tired-looking Haditha, who wore gloves and sturdy work clothes. As they stood on a rickety reception platform that was only a couple of meters above the mud, the Imperial couple watched the court members step uncomfortably onto walkways that had been laid across the mudflats.

Low-ranking engineers crisply divided the many “volunteers” into teams, so they could receive their work assignments. A number of nobles grumbled and took offense, citing their social status, haughtily mentioning the names of their families or political patrons. Willem went to his assigned team without complaint.

Near him, Empress Haditha addressed the heartbroken villagers rather than the courtiers. “You are all citizens of the Imperium, and we will care for every one of you. See, I have brought more help.”

Roderick added, “I present these noble members of my Imperial Court, who also feel for your plight. They will contribute their sweat and hard labor to help you at a time when you most need it. They will work beside you until your town is rebuilt and you have homes again.”

Willem realized that the Emperor was testing the dismayed nobles, so he spoke up to set an example. “I will lead a team, Sire — I’m not afraid to work.”

Heads turned toward him, eyes glaring, but Willem nodded respectfully to the Emperor and the Empress.

Haditha beamed at him, and Roderick gave him a warm smile. “Very good. Yes, Vorian said I should pay close attention to you.”

“I’m willing to pitch in too,” said another voice. The familiar-looking young man with dark hair stepped forward. He seemed pale and uncertain, but determined. Willem suddenly felt claws of ice run down his spine.

Obviously pleased, the Emperor raised his voice for all to hear. “Danvis Harkonnen and Willem Atreides, you both provide good examples for these others to follow.” He turned his stern gaze toward the uneasy courtiers. “Let these two show you how to do what’s best for the Imperium.”

Willem trembled, barely able to contain his fury at this unwelcome surprise. As additional nobles stepped forward, accepting their fate, he only heard a roaring noise in his ears.

Danvis looked at him, clearly struggling with his own deep-seated anger. He stood straight and arrogant, gazing sidelong with a ferocious glare.

Willem fashioned a brittle smile in response, but the wheels were turning in his mind as he tried to determine how soon he would be able to kill this Harkonnen for his family’s heinous crimes.

He would do it for the honor of the Atreides.