Mentats of Dune

Chapter 52 (There is beauty in the eyes)

Though Caladan was quiet and bucolic, it boasted an impressive Air Patrol Agency. The scattered fishing fleets, the occasional sea storms, and the creatures out in the deep oceans — all required the locals to be ready to mount a rapid and efficient rescue when necessary.

Vor smiled when he studied the history of the Caladan Air Patrol and their years of service. No one knew that the rescue organization had been established and funded well over a century ago through an anonymous foundation set up by Vorian Atreides. Yes, he still had many ties here.

Though they were still young, his great-great-grandsons Willem and Orry had made themselves important pilots in the Patrol. Both young men had a love of fast and dangerous flying in their blood, but Vor decided this was a much better profession than piloting warships against robot vessels in the Jihad.

After that long, late-night confession and conversation with Shander Atreides, Vor felt relieved. He rarely got a chance to shed so many secrets. Even so, from Shander’s raised eyebrows and uncertain chuckle, he wasn’t sure the wealthy old fisherman — actually Vor’s great-grandson — completely believed him. Shander was aware only that one of his ancestors had been a great war hero, as attested to by the statue in the town square; but that was far back in the days of the Jihad, and the fact meant little to their daily lives. Nevertheless, Shander accepted Vorian’s friendship, seeing him as a curiosity and a spinner of tales. Good company overall, regardless of his past.

In a broader sense, Vor wanted to reconnect with the tapestry of his family, his roots, and to apologize for the aloof way he had treated Leronica and their two sons … generations ago. Although no one on Caladan even remembered the slight, Vor needed to do it for himself.

His openness and candor surprised some on Caladan who heard his story, while others simply assumed he had a wild imagination. Vor didn’t mind; he intended to stay on beautiful Caladan for a while — for quite a while, in fact. Willem and Orry were strangers to him, but he could hardly wait to meet them.

On the third day after Vor arrived on Caladan, Shander Atreides offered to meet him for lunch to introduce him to the two young men, who were due back from a long patrol. At the last minute, Shander had to respond to an insistent customer, some kind of urgent repair order for fishing nets, and so Vor went to the landing-field café himself. He had faced greater challenges before.

Walking in, he felt tense but eager to meet Willem and Orry. Vor found them sitting at a table by a window that overlooked the Air Patrol field, where seaplanes took off and landed. He was startled when he caught his first glimpse of the two laughing young men. Even in their flight suits, they looked very much like the twins Estes and Kagin. He caught his breath, felt a pang, and then smiled as he stepped forward.

The brothers rose in unison to greet him; each shook his hand with a firm grip. Willem was taller than his older brother, with blond hair, while Orry’s was black like Vor’s. “I’m glad to finally meet you both,” Vor said.

They were polite, formal, although neither seemed to quite understand who he was. Willem said, “Uncle Shander told us you’re a surprise visitor. Some long-lost family member that we need to meet?”

Vor sat back, surprised. “He didn’t tell you my story?”

“We’ve been out on patrol for a week,” Orry said, “filling in at another airfield.”

“My name is Vorian Atreides.” He saw that they recognized the name but couldn’t quite place it. “I’m your great-great-grandfather. I spent a lot of time here on Caladan, long ago during the Jihad. I met a local woman named Leronica Tergiet, and we had twin sons. One of them was your great-grandfather.”

Willem and Orry blinked, then chuckled, but their laughter fell into silence when Vor continued to regard them with a serious expression. He explained the life-extension treatment he had received from his father, the cymek General Agamemnon. He was sure they must have been taught the history of the Jihad.

Orry said, “This is impossible. This really sounds impossible!”

Willem sat back at the table, looking skeptical. “We’ve heard of you, of course, at least the name. But … that’s all ancient history, and whatever you did all those centuries ago doesn’t affect us here. Not anymore.”

Vor frowned. “It’s been a very long time, but that doesn’t mean the past can’t find you here. I’d just like to get to know you both.”

Orry grinned. “I’ll bet he has some amazing stories.”

With a nod, Willem said, “As long as he pays for the meal.”

The boys showed no animosity toward him, just friendly curiosity. It appeared that any disappointment Estes and Kagin might have felt toward Vor had not lasted over the generations … unlike the bitterness House Harkonnen felt toward him. He could start fresh with these young men, earn their friendship without any preconceptions.

Their meals arrived, a local specialty of dark bread baked with meats, cheeses, and fresh vegetables.

“If you’re a member of the family, then you have to come to my wedding,” Orry said.

Willem explained, “My brother’s been in such a rush since meeting this girl — and he’s gone a little dizzy over her — but we can add an ancient war hero to the guest list.”

“Sounds like I arrived at just the right time. I’d love to attend.” Vor remembered all the family promises he’d broken in the past and vowed not to do it again. “When is it? Tell me about her.”

Once encouraged, Orry seemed unable to stop talking about his fiancée, while Willem just rolled his eyes. Orry had met a beautiful, charming young woman from an inland village, and they’d immediately felt sparks between them. “She swept me off my feet.”

“She knocked him off his feet.” Willem wore a long-suffering expression. “I’ve never seen him so love-struck. It happened so fast that no one’s had much of a chance to get to know her — except Orry, of course.” His tone was teasing.

“From the moment we met, we were two pieces that fit perfectly together,” Orry said, then turned to his brother. “Someday you’ll find a woman as perfect as … Well, almost as perfect, because there isn’t anyone to match her.”

Willem sighed. “I don’t believe in love at first sight.”

“I knew if I didn’t make my move quickly, you would have been after her,” Orry said, smiling. “And you know it, too.”

Willem gave an embarrassed chuckle. “You might be right.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting her,” Vor said. “And to spending more time with you two. Does the Air Patrol have room for another volunteer? I was a crack pilot once, and I’ve got experience — centuries’ worth, in fact.”

Willem seemed thrilled with the suggestion. “Want to go out with us after lunch? Our multiwing tiltplane can hold a third passenger — there’s even room for famous people.”

“I’d rather not be famous,” Vor said. “I prefer to be treated as an ordinary man for a change.”

Orry laughed. “We can do that. Most people won’t believe your war stories anyway. But they beat the wild tales our fishermen tell.”

They finished their meal, eager to head back to the airfield. As they left the café and walked out to the landing area, Willem said, “We can’t offer any combat missions against robot battleships, though. You might find it boring.”

“I’m perfectly happy with a boring mission. I risked my life enough times.” Vor had nothing to prove to anyone. He felt glad he had decided to make his way back to Caladan.

An alarm klaxon sounded from the airfield, and Willem and Orry looked at each other before bolting toward a patrol craft. “We’re on call,” Willem shouted as Vor hurried to keep up with them. “It’s an emergency.”

Orry jabbed his finger toward a long, thin aircraft that had a red light pulsing on top. “That’s our plane.” The craft had rotors and a complex arrangement of wings to operate as a helicopter, airplane, or watercraft. Vor had never flown that exact model before, but it looked similar to many he had used.

An attendant was refueling the tiltplane for immediate takeoff. He looked up at the trio running toward the craft, said, “A man’s been caught in an undertow taking him out to sea. Report came in from a woman harvesting anemones by Gable Cliff.” He closed the cap, rapped the side of the craft. “You’re ready to go. I ran through the checklist.”

The tiltplane’s cockpit was barely large enough to accommodate the three men; Vor crammed into a jump seat behind the two younger Atreides. From his days on Caladan, he recalled instances of dangerous riptides and unexpected currents near the shore. Any victim swept out to sea would not last long.

Willem took the controls, and as they taxied for takeoff, Orry went through his own quick checklist and adjusted his headset. “Report came in ten minutes ago, but the victim isn’t far. We might make it in time, if he’s a strong swimmer.”

“First we have to find him out in the big water,” Willem said, then glanced back at Vor. “Your extra set of eyes could come in handy.”

They soared over the high promontory of Gable Cliff and turned out to sea, dipping down to fly low over the waves. Another patrol plane joined them, and they spread out their search patterns. Whitecaps licked the rough sea, and a brisk breeze buffeted them. Vor leaned against the side windowport and pointed. “I see something at two o’clock.”

They circled back for a closer look, and a human figure came into view, a gray-haired man floating in the water. Operating the controls to shift the tiltplane’s wings, Willem hovered over the area while Orry worked his way to the back and pulled himself into a sling. Clipping his supports into place, he slid open the access door to a roar of wind and aircraft engines, then pushed himself out, pulling the rope taut as the sling lowered. Vor clipped himself into place with a safety harness and helped guide the rope down.

Even with the sharp breezes, Willem held the craft in perfect position. Orry rode down on the sling, and maneuvered into position until he could grab the floating man. Orry’s motions were urgent as he wrestled with the victim and strapped him into the sling. He kept shouting into the comm, but Vor could only hear the wind, engines, and static.

Willem’s face was pale and grim as he raised the winch, hauling both Orry and the victim back up to the open hold. Vor leaned out in his harness and reached down to guide them aboard.

Orry seemed to be crying as he clung to the dripping old man. Vor hauled them both inside and secured the sling. The victim slumped forward, facedown and motionless on the deck. Orry tore himself free of the harness, crawled over to the body, and rolled him over.

Vor grabbed the first-aid kit, but he could tell the man was dead — he had seen enough death in all his years. The old man’s eyes were open, his head smashed, his face badly swollen and bruised, almost unrecognizable. Almost. His heart sank.

It was Shander Atreides.

The hatch closed and the tiltplane flew over the water as Willem raced back toward shore.

Orry was sobbing as he tried to resuscitate his uncle, and Vor helped, even though he knew it was useless. Still, he had to let the young man do what he needed to do. Shander had raised the boys.

“It looks like somebody beat him,” Willem said, his voice breaking.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Vor said. Shander’s death was clearly not an accident.