Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [90]
He didn’t think Dominic Vernius even noticed the differences between himself and his comrade Paulus. The hearty, bald Earl gave all of his attention and enthusiasm to his family and the workers in his immediate vicinity, paying attention to overall industrial operations and business politics to keep the Ixian fortunes pouring in. But Dominic viewed the suboids as resources. Yes, he cared for them well enough, just as he maintained his precious machinery. But Leto wondered if Rhombur and his family treated the suboids as people.
He’d already gone down many levels, and felt the uncomfortable tightness of stale air. The tunnels ahead became darker and emptier. The quiet corridors led deeper into open rooms, common areas from which he heard voices, a rustling of bodies. He was about to turn back, knowing he had a full day ahead of him: studies and lectures about mechanical operations and industrial processes. Rhombur probably hadn’t even eaten breakfast yet.
Curious, Leto stopped at the archway to see many suboids gathered in a common room. There were no seats or benches that he could see, and so all the people remained standing. He listened to the droning, curiously impassioned words of one suboid, a short, muscular man at the front of the room. In the man’s voice, and in the fire in his eyes, Leto detected emotions that he found peculiar, in view of what he had heard about the suboids, that they were placid and undemanding.
“We build the Heighliners,” he said, and his voice grew louder. “We manufacture the technological objects, yet we make none of the decisions. We do as we are commanded, even when we know those plans are wrong!”
The suboids began to mutter and mumble.
“Some of the new technologies go beyond what is forbidden by the Great Revolt. We are creating thinking machines. We don’t need to understand the blueprints and designs, because we know what they will do!”
Hesitating, Leto drew back into the shadows of the archway. He had walked enough among the common people that he usually wasn’t afraid of them. But something strange was going on here. He wanted to run, yet needed to listen. . . .
“Since we are suboids, we have no participation in profits from Ixian technology. We have simple lives and few ambitions—but we do have our religion. We read the Orange Catholic Bible and know in our hearts what is right.” The suboid speaker raised a massive, knuckled fist. “And we know that many of the things we’ve been building here on Ix are not right!”
The audience moved restlessly again, on the verge of being riled. Rhombur had insisted that this group had no ambitions, did not have the capacity for them. Here, though, Leto saw otherwise.
The suboid speaker narrowed his eyes and spoke ominously. “What are we going to do? Should we petition our masters and demand answers? Should we do more?”
He swept his gaze over the gathered listeners—then suddenly, like two sharp fléchettes, his eyes skewered Leto eavesdropping in the archway shadows. “Who are you?”
Leto stumbled backward, raising his hands. “I’m sorry. I got lost. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Normally, he would know how to make himself welcome, but now his confusion raised his senses to a fever pitch.
The worker audience spun about, and their eyes slowly lit with comprehension. They realized the implications of what the speaker had said and what Leto had overheard.
“I’m really sorry,” Leto said. “I meant no trespass.” His heart pounded. Sweat sparkled on his brow, and he sensed extreme danger.
Several suboids began to move toward him like automatons, picking up speed.
Leto offered them his most congenial smile. “If you’d like, I can speak with Earl Vernius for you, bring some of your grievances—”
The suboids closed in, and Leto bolted and ran. He rushed back through the low corridors, turning at random,