Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [145]
“And what about our engines?”
“They can be made to function, if we operate them without the mathematical compilers.”
“I don’t give a damn about the compilers! Find a way to salvage some of the Obliterators. Are they all inactive? Every single one?”
“The only way to know, Mother Commander, is to open and inspect each of them.”
“We could just launch them all and hope a few still function.” Murbella nodded slowly. It was indeed an option. At this point, it cost them nothing. She had to find some way to fight, and she hoped her other battle groups were faring better than this . . . but she doubted it. Without functional Obliterators, every one of the planets on the front line was essentially unprotected in the face of certain destruction.
And it was all her responsibility.
Some say that survival itself can be the best revenge. For myself, I prefer something a bit more extravagant.
—BARON VLADIMIR HARKONNEN,
the ghola
On a whim, the Baron told the ten Face Dancers accompanying him to pose as Sardaukar from the old Imperium. He didn’t know if anyone would even recognize the joke—fashions changed and history forgot such details—but it helped him present an air of command. During his original lifetime he had achieved a great victory over House Atreides with illicit Sardaukar at his side.
Leaving the restless Paolo with Erasmus, supposedly “for his own protection,” the Baron dressed himself in a nobleman’s uniform frosted with gold braids and ornate chains of office. A ceremonial poison-tipped dagger hung at his side, and a wide-beam stunner was concealed in his sleeve for easy access. Though the imitation Sardaukar were his guards and escort, he didn’t particularly trust them, either. One could never be too careful.
When the Baron’s entourage marched to the imprisoned no-ship, however, they could not find a door on the kilometer-long hull—a frustrating and embarrassing moment, but Omnius was not to be hindered. Guided by the evermind, parts of nearby buildings transformed into gigantic tools that tore open the hull, peeling away plates and structural girders to leave a wide gash. Brute force was easier and more direct than locating an appropriate hatch and deciphering unfamiliar controls.
With the no-ship suitably opened, the Baron and his escort ducked under low-hanging debris and sparking circuitry. Prepared for an ambush, but moving with an outward show of confidence, they made their way through the winding corridors. Several of Omnius’s floating watcheyes zoomed ahead of them down the passageways to scout out and map the interior of the vessel.
The captives would surely see that surrender was their only option. What other conclusion could they draw? Unfortunately, in his original lifetime the Baron had had considerable experience with fanatics, such as the mad Fremen bands on Arrakis. It was possible that these poor wretches intended to mount a desperate, hopeless resistance until they were all slaughtered, including the purported Kwisatz Haderach among them.
Paolo would then be the only contender, and that would be that.
Inside the no-ship, they first encountered Duncan Idaho and a defiant-looking Bene Gesserit woman who identified herself as Sheeana. The two waited for the boarding party in the middle of a wide corridor. The Baron only vaguely remembered the man from the records of House Atreides: a Swordmaster of Ginaz, one of Duke Leto’s most trusted fighters, killed on Arrakis while protecting Paul and Jessica in their escape. From the sneer on Idaho’s face, he could tell that this ghola had his memories back, too.
“Oh ho, I see that you know me.