Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [27]
Duncan had to survive. He had to be the best. If he died, he couldn’t go back to see his mother again. But if he lived and defeated these bastards, then perhaps his family would get their freedom . . . or as much freedom as Harkonnen civil service workers could ever have on Giedi Prime.
Duncan had seen other trainees who had defeated the pursuers before, and those children had disappeared afterward. If he could believe the announcements, the winners and their captive families had been set free from the hellhole of Barony. Duncan had no proof of this, though, and had plenty of reasons to question what the Harkonnens told him. But he wanted to believe them, could not give up hope.
He didn’t understand why his parents had been thrown into this prison. What had minor government office workers done to deserve such punishment? He remembered only that one day life had been normal and relatively happy . . . and the next, they were all here, enslaved. Now young Duncan was forced nearly every day to run and fight for his life, and for the future of his family. He was getting better at it.
He remembered that last normal afternoon out on a manicured lawn planted high up in one of the Harko City terraces, one of the rare balcony parks the Harkonnens allowed their subjects to have. The gardens and hedges were carefully fertilized and tended, because plants did not fare well in the residue-impregnated soil of a planet that had been too long abused.
Duncan’s parents and other family members had been playing frivolous lawn games, tossing self-motivated balls at targets on the grass, while internal high-entropy devices made the balls bounce and ricochet randomly. The boy had noticed how different, how dry and structured the games of adults were compared with the reckless romping he did with his friends.
A young woman stood near him, watching the games. She had chocolate-colored hair, dusky skin, and high cheekbones, but her pinched expression and hard gaze detracted from what might have been remarkable beauty. He didn’t know who she was and understood only that her name was Janess Milam, and she worked with his parents somehow.
As Duncan had watched the adult yard game, listening to the laughter, he smiled at the woman and observed, “They’re practicing to be old men.” It became apparent, though, that Janess had no real interest in him or his opinion, for she’d given him a sharp verbal brush-off.
Under the hazy sunlight Duncan had continued to watch the game, but with increasing curiosity about the stranger. He sensed tension in her. Janess, who didn’t participate, frequently glanced over her shoulder, as if watching for something.
Moments later Harkonnen troops had come, grabbing Duncan’s parents, himself, even his uncle and two cousins. He understood intuitively that Janess had been the cause of it all, for whatever reason. He’d never seen her again, and he and his family had been in prison for half a year now. . . .
Behind him, an overhead trapdoor opened with a hiss. Two blue-uniformed pursuers dropped through, pointed at him, and laughed in triumph. Weaving from side to side, Duncan dashed ahead. A lasgun blast ricocheted off the wall plates, leaving a lightning-bolt scorch mark down the corridor.
Duncan smelled the ozone from the singed metal. If even one of those bolts hit him, he’d be dead. He hated the way the hunters snickered, as if they were merely toying with him.
A pair of pursuers charged out of a side passage only a meter in front of him, but Duncan moved too fast. They didn’t recognize him or react quickly enough. He struck one stout man in the knee and knocked him sideways before dashing between the two at a full run.
The stout man stumbled, then shouted as a laser bolt singed his armor, “Stop firing, you idiot! You’ll hit one of us!”
Duncan ran as he’d never run before, knowing his child’s legs couldn’t outrace adults conditioned for fighting. But he refused to give up. It wasn’t in his blood.
Ahead,