Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [188]
C’tair established careful ties to black market groups that furnished him with what he required. The contraband silicate crystals surreptitiously bore laser-scribed approvals by the Religious Review Board. Ever resourceful, the black marketers had their own means of counterfeiting the approval marks, and had scribed them everywhere, thus frustrating the controlling efforts of the occupation forces.
Still, he dealt with the furtive salesmen as little as possible to reduce his own risk of being caught . . . but that also limited the number of times he could talk with his brother.
C’tair stood behind a barricade with other restless, sweaty people who studiously refused to recognize each other. He looked out across the sprawling grotto floor to the construction yards where the skeleton of the partially built Heighliner sat. Overhead, portions of the projected sky remained dark and damaged, and the Tleilaxu showed no inclination to repair it.
Suspensor-borne searchlights and speakers hovered over the crowd as the gathered people waited for an announcement and further instructions. No one wanted to ask, and no one wanted to hear.
“This Heighliner is of an unapproved Vernius design,” the floating speakers boomed in a sexless voice that resonated against the rock walls, “and does not meet the standards of the Religious Review Board. Your Tleilaxu masters are returning to the previous design, so this craft is to be dismantled immediately.”
A soft susurration of dismay crept across the crowd.
“Raw materials are to be salvaged and new work crews established. Construction begins again in five days.”
C’tair’s mind whirled as maroon-robed organizers marched through the crowds, assigning teams. As the son of an ambassador he’d had access to information that had not been available to others of his age. He knew the old-style Heighliners had a significantly smaller cargo capacity and operated less efficiently. But what possible religious objection could the invaders have to increased profits? What did the Tleilaxu have to gain from less efficient space transport?
Then he remembered a story that his ambassador father had told back in a time of smug assurance, that old Emperor Elrood had been displeased with the innovation, since it curtailed his tariff revenue. Pieces began to fit into place. House Corrino had provided disguised Sardaukar troops to maintain an iron grip on the Ixian population, and C’tair realized that reverting to the old Heighliner design might be how the Tleilaxu intended to repay the Emperor for his military support.
Wheels within wheels within wheels . . .
He felt sick inside. If true, it was such a petty reason for so many lives to have been lost, for the glorious traditions of Ix to have been destroyed, for the overthrow of an entire noble family and a planetary way of life. He was angry with everyone involved—even with Earl Vernius, who should have foreseen this and taken steps not to create such powerful enemies.
The call to work came across the PA system, and C’tair was assigned to join suboid crews as they dismantled the partially finished ship and salvaged its parts in the grotto yard. Struggling to maintain a bland expression on his face as he wielded a construction laser to sever components, he wiped sweat from his dark hair. He wished instead that he could use the laser to attack the Tleilaxu. Other teams hauled the girders and plates away, stacking them for the next assembly project.
With ringing and clanging all around him, C’tair recalled a better, more ordered time, when he’d stood with D’murr and Kailea on the observation deck above. So long ago, it seemed. They had watched a Navigator guide the last new Heighliner out of the grotto. Perhaps it would be the last such ship ever built . . . unless C’tair could help overthrow these destroyers.
The magnificent ship gradually fell to pieces, and the echoing sounds and chemical smells were horrific. Did suboids