Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [43]
Adjusting the oil lenses of his father’s field glasses, Leto peered away from the shifting pastels of the dawn horizon, up into the vestiges of night. A glinting speck moved against the stars. When he touched the zoompad, the speck grew until Leto recognized a Heighliner in low orbit surrounded by the shimmering blur of a shield defensive system.
“Do you see it?” Paulus asked, standing at his son’s shoulder.
“It’s there—with full shields activated. Are they worried about military action? Here?” With such severe political and economic consequences, Leto couldn’t imagine anyone attacking a Guild craft. Although the Spacing Guild had no military power of its own, it could—through withdrawal of transportation services—cripple any solar system. And with elaborate surveillance mechanisms, the Guild could trace and identify rogue attackers and send messages off to the Emperor, who in turn would dispatch Imperial Sardaukar according to mutual treaty.
“Never underestimate the tactics of desperation, lad,” Paulus said, but did not elaborate further. From time to time he had told his son stories of trumped-up charges against particular people, situations fabricated in the past in order to wipe out enemies of the Emperor or the Guild.
Leto thought that of all the things he was leaving behind, he would miss his father’s insights most, the Old Duke’s brief and perceptive lessons tossed off the cuff. “The Empire functions beyond mere laws,” Paulus continued. “An equally strong foundation is the network of alliances, favors, and religious propaganda. Beliefs are more powerful than facts.”
Leto stared through the thick sky at the magnificent, distant ship and frowned. It was often difficult to separate truth from fiction. . . .
He watched a speck of orange appear below the immense orbiting craft. The color became a streak of descending light that resolved into the shape of a shuttle, which soon hovered over the Cala landing field. Four white gulls whipped around, soaring in the stirred air currents from the shuttle’s descent, then flew shrieking out to the sea cliffs.
Around the shuttle, a shield shimmered and flickered off. All along the spaceport fences, pennants snapped in a salty morning breeze. The shuttle, a white bullet-shaped craft, floated across the field toward the embarkation platform on which Leto and his parents stood separate from the honor guard. A crowd of onlookers and well-wishers waved and shouted from the outskirts of the landing field. The craft and platform connected, and a door slid open in the fuselage.
His mother came forward to say her goodbyes, embracing him without words; she had threatened simply to watch from one of the towers in Castle Caladan, but Paulus had convinced her otherwise. The crowd cheered and shouted their farewells; Duke Paulus and Lady Helena stood hand in hand and waved back at them.
“Remember what I told you, son,” Paulus said, referring to intense counseling he had given the boy in recent days. “Learn from Ix, learn from everything.”
“But use your heart to know what is true,” his mother added.
“Always,” he said. “I’ll miss you both. I’ll make you proud of me.”
“We already are, lad.” The older man stepped back to the formal guard escort. He exchanged Atreides salutes with his son—an open right hand beside the temple—and all the soldiers did the same. Then Paulus bounded forward to give Leto a hearty hug. . . .
Moments later the robo-piloted shuttle rose away from the black cliffs, churning seas, and cloud-wreathed croplands of Caladan. Inside, Leto sat in a plush chair in the observation lounge, peering out a windowport. As the craft reached the indigo darkness of space, he saw the metallic island of the Guild Heighliner with sunlight glinting off its surface.
At their approach, a yawning black hole opened in the underside. Leto took a deep breath, and the immense ship swallowed the shuttle. He envisioned what he had once seen in a filmbook about Arrakis, a sandworm