Mentats of Dune

Chapter 35 (Every memory has a trigger)

Vorian was invisible, just an average person on Lankiveil — and he liked being treated that way. When he worked with the Harkonnen patriarch, he kept his eyes open, understanding this man, knowing how much his past actions had harmed the family. Yes, Abulurd had earned his own disgrace eighty years ago, but not for all future generations.

Vor could help, if he found the right way. He didn’t want to be applauded, welcomed, or even forgiven. He just wanted to repair some of the damage he had left in his wake. For now, the Harkonnens accepted him, made him feel welcome, but they had no idea who he really was.…

Fur-whales were not as large as he had imagined, but they were dangerous, especially when being hunted. The majestic creatures could dive deep into the cold waters and escape, or they could turn on a pursuing boat and inflict serious damage.

The whales traveled in predictable migration patterns, clustering together as they cruised for food. In such groups, they could not escape the high-tech nets and stunners used by the Harkonnen hunters, but when the whales were corralled in the nets for the fur harvest, they could exhibit great power. Many hunters had lost lives or limbs from the beasts fighting to survive.

“Watch out for their pectoral fins.” Vergyl Harkonnen stood next to a motorized winch on the aft deck and shouted over the noise of machinery. “Razor sharp. They can cut off your arm like a scimitar.” He nodded while Vor and his fellow crewmen secured the net, taking care to avoid the thrashing fin that was sawing through strong metal mesh. “They’re prehistoric creatures, the top of the marine food chain.”

Vor wrestled with a rope. “They don’t have any predators?”

The bearded Harkonnen tossed his head, tugged his hood tighter against the chill. “Oh, a school of torpedo sharks might attack a sick or injured whale, but otherwise very little bothers them.”

“Except for us,” Vor said. “Humans are the most dangerous predators.”

For nearly two weeks now, he had worked on a Harkonnen whaleboat, pretending to be an observer, a researcher — which he was, though Vor’s intent was to research something else entirely. Cold spray washed over the deck, reminding him (fondly, he realized) of the years he had been stationed on Caladan for the Army of the Jihad. And beautiful Leronica Tergiet, one of his first loves. He’d met her so long ago, stayed with her for decades, raised two sons with her, but after she died Vorian Atreides eventually moved on, as he always did.…

The Lankiveil sun broke through the clouds. Vor felt warm from the exertion and loosened his jacket. After that, one of the crewmen took off his shirt, as if he had something to prove to the visitor.

In his time here on Lankiveil, feeling the camaraderie of the whalers, even the openness of Vergyl Harkonnen, Vor was fitting in well. Sometimes his fellow crewmen teased him for his inexperience, but at least he knew his way around a ship. He took the ribbing good-naturedly. After so many years, with so many identities, working so many jobs, Vor had learned to get along with rough-and-tumble types.

Earlier that morning, when the whaling boat set out from the village, the ruddy chief mate, Landon, spoke of dangerous old days before lightweight alloy nets became available, when hunters had to go out in small boats and face the aggressive animals with stunner harpoons.

“I lost a grandfather and a great uncle to fur-whales,” Landon said. “Now I take something back for them.”

Whale-fur was a high-priced export from Lankiveil, but an inefficient distribution system hindered House Harkonnen. Vergyl’s brother, Weller, along with Griffin Harkonnen, had attempted to change that and bring prosperity back to the family. Another disastrous failure …

Now they needed to solidify their operations, add equipment, and upgrade their processing facilities. If the Harkonnens could not earn enough to pay their debts, they would lose even their meager foothold on Lankiveil. Already the ambitious Bushnells were moving in, taking work, preparing to overwhelm the Harkonnens. Vor could perhaps do something about that.…

With the huge nets hoisted and swung over the aft deck, the day’s tally was eight captured whales; they were small ones, but with rare brown and silver fur. When one of the beasts crashed onto the long deck after being dumped from the nets, it writhed until the crew fired poison darts into its brain.

Vor and the other men set to butchering the creatures on the deck, hard and filthy work. Blood ran into gunwall channels and out onto the water, attracting a flurry of torpedo sharks. The whale innards reeked of everything foul Vor could imagine, but he endured the stench. His fellow crewmen teased him about the contorted faces he made, but he just laughed in response.

After stripping off the thick pelts, the crew cut and separated the pieces well into the afternoon, tossing undesirable scraps overboard for the waiting sharks. The blubber would be rendered, and the rest would be sold as whale meat, a staple of the Lankiveil diet.

Vor indicated the increasing wind and waves, and Vergyl agreed. “We’d better head back to port.”

The Harkonnen patriarch manned the helm and steered the boat across the choppy, cold waters, heading toward the stark fjords. Vor hosed down the deck, then helped roll the sheets of fur and secure the lockers of fresh meat.

After working with Vergyl and his crew, getting to know the man’s wife and their son Danvis, Vor almost felt like a member of the family. They had been kind to him, openly grateful for the hours of work he provided without asking for pay. They accepted Vor’s story that he was doing research. He dreaded to think how everything would change if they discovered his true identity.

Danvis occasionally joined them on the whaleboats, but his parents sheltered him, hesitant to expose their only remaining son to danger. He was very unlike Griffin. One day Danvis would become the noble leader of Lankiveil, but Vor wondered if the young man would be easy pickings for the rival family operations. Or maybe life would toughen him. Since Vorian himself did not age, he could return to Lankiveil years hence to check on Danvis, give him the support he needed.

He sighed: Yet another generation of lives for which he felt responsible, yet another set of obligations. But after spending time here incognito, he felt more convinced that this was something he needed to do, to right the foundering ship of the Harkonnen family. He could not make them forgive him, but he could give them the financial stability they needed.…

The engines made a loud droning noise as the whaleboat plied the waves. Vor wiped his forearm across his brow and thought back on times he’d worked fishing boats on Caladan, the sweet moments he’d spent with Leronica — several lives ago.

A drizzle became a downpour as Vergyl throttled down the engines, working his way into the sheltered fjord. Even through the mist, Vor could see the village on the shore. He heard the happy chatter of the crew as they looked forward to hitting the tavern for a round of local ale. The cold rain bothered none of them; in fact, the fresh downpour washed away some of the odor of butchered whales that hung about the ship.

That evening, while the other crewmembers were drinking, and Vergyl returned to spend the night with his family, Vor dispatched a coded courier message aboard a departing transfer ship. The instructions would go to one of his financial contacts on Kolhar, the nearest planet with a bank that held part of his distributed fortune. He had the means to make a difference here, and he saw it as a way to lighten the shadow on his conscience. He instructed his banker to pay off the Harkonnen family debts in full, anonymously.

The sudden transfer of wealth would allow the Harkonnens to repair their whaling fleet, rebuild the spaceport, and be more competitive in shipping the harvested fur to offworld markets. Then they could resist the Bushnell incursions … without ever learning the identity of their secret benefactor.

Vorian Atreides intended to be long gone before the funds arrived.

He could not possibly make everything right, but this was a start. In the morning, he would tell Vergyl and Sonia he needed to leave Lankiveil, his “research project” completed. And he would be on his way somewhere else.

He had been thinking a great deal about Caladan. Maybe he would make his way back there.…