Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [74]
Again the Fremen lunged against their attackers. Again, they screamed, “Taqwa!”
One of the two surviving Harkonnen soldiers thrust his sword at Kynes, but the Planetologist moved rapidly now, still angry and flushed with the blooding of his first two victims. He reached upward, rippling through the shield, and neatly slit the attacker’s throat. An entrisseur. The guard dropped his sword and grasped his neck in a futile attempt to hold his lifeblood inside.
The fifth Harkonnen crumpled to the ground.
As the two Fremen fighters turned their revenge upon the lone remaining enemy, Kynes bent over the seriously wounded desert youth and spoke to him. “Stay calm. I will help you.”
The young man had already sprayed copious amounts of blood into the gravelly dust, but Kynes had an emergency medpak on his belt. He slapped a wound sealant on the ragged neck cut, then used hypovials with ready plasma and high-powered stimulants to keep the victim alive. He felt the young man’s pulse at the wrist. A steady heartbeat.
Kynes saw the depth of the damage now and was astonished that the youth hadn’t bled more. Without medical attention, he would have died within minutes. But still, Kynes was amazed the boy had survived this long. This Fremen’s blood coagulates with extreme efficiency. Another fact to file away in his memory—a survival adaptation to reduce moisture loss in the driest desert?
“Eeeeah!”
“No!”
Kynes looked up at the cries of pain and terror. Off to one side, the Fremen had dug the surviving Harkonnen’s eyes out of their sockets, using their blade tips. Then they made slow work of flaying their victim alive, stripping away ribbons of pink skin, which they stored in sealed pouches at their hips.
Covered with blood, Kynes stood up, panting. Seeing their viciousness now that the tables had been turned, he began to wonder if he’d done the right thing. These Fremen were like wild animals and had worked themselves into a frenzy. Would they attempt to kill him now, despite what he had done for them? He was a complete stranger to these desperate young men.
He watched and waited, and when the youths had finished with their grisly torture, he met their eyes and cleared his throat before speaking in Imperial Galach. “My name is Pardot Kynes, the Imperial Planetologist assigned to Arrakis.”
He looked down at his blood-smeared skin and decided not to extend a hand in greeting. In their culture, they might misinterpret the gesture. “I’m very pleased to introduce myself. I’ve always wanted to meet the Fremen.”
It’s easier to be terrified by an enemy you admire.
—THUFIR HAWAT, Mentat and
Security Commander to House Atreides
Hidden by the thick pines, Duncan Idaho knelt in the soft needles on the ground, feeling little warmth. The chill night air deadened the resinous evergreen scent, but at least here he was sheltered from the razor breezes. He had gone far enough from the cave that he could pause and catch his breath. For just a moment.
He knew the Harkonnen hunters wouldn’t rest, though. They would be particularly incensed now that he’d killed one of their party. Maybe, he thought, they might even enjoy the chase more. Especially Rabban.
Duncan opened the medpak he’d stolen from the ambushed tracker and brought out a small package of newskin ointment, which he slathered over the incision on his shoulder, where it hardened to an organic bond. Then he wolfed down the nutrition bar and stuffed the wrappings into his pockets.
Using the glow of his handlight, he turned to study the lasgun. He’d never fired such a weapon before, but he had watched the guards and the hunters operate their rifles. He cradled the weapon and fiddled with its mechanisms and controls. Pointing