Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [81]
The grizzled leader raised his hands, and his voice sounded as dry as the air. “After the death of the Tyrant long ago, my people fled into the Scattering. When they reached Qelso, they thought they had found Eden. It was a paradise for fifteen hundred years afterward.”
The men glowered at Sheeana. Var explained how the refugees had established a thriving society, built cities, planted crops, mined for metals and minerals. They had no wish to overextend themselves or go searching for other lost brothers who had escaped during the Famine Times.
“Then a few decades ago everything changed. Visitors came, Bene Gesserits. At first we welcomed them, glad to have news from the outside. We offered them a new home. They became our guests. But the ingrates raped our entire planet, and now it is dying.”
Another man clenched his hands into fists as he picked up the story. “The sandtrout multiplied out of control. Huge forests and vast plains died within years—only a few years! Great fires started in the wastelands, and weather patterns changed, turning much of our world into a dust bowl.”
Teg spoke up, using his command voice. “If Liet and Stilgar told you about our no-ship and its mission, then you know we don’t carry sandtrout and we have no intention of harming your world. We stopped here only to replenish vital supplies.”
“In fact, we fled the heart of the Bene Gesserit order because we disagreed with the policies and leadership,” Sheeana added.
“You have seven large sandworms in your hold,” Var accused.
“Yes, and we will not release them here.”
Liet-Kynes spoke quietly, as if lecturing children. “As we already told you, once it has begun, the desertification process is a chain reaction. The sandtrout have no natural enemies, and their encysting of water is so swift that nothing can adapt quickly enough to fight against them.”
“Nevertheless, we will fight,” Var said. “You see how simply we live in this camp. We have given up everything to stay here.”
“But why?” Sheeana asked. “Even as the desert spreads, you have many years to prepare.”
“Prepare? Do you mean surrender? You may call it a hopeless fight, but it is still a fight. If we cannot stop the desert, we will at least slow it. We’ll battle the worms and the sands.” The men at the table muttered. “No matter what you say, we will try to hinder the desert’s progress in every way. We kill sandtrout, we hunt the new worms.” Var stood up, and the others followed suit. “We are commandos sworn to slow the death of our world.”
The desert still calls me. It sings in my blood like a love song.
—LIET-KYNES,
Planetology: New Treatises
Early the next morning, Var led his group of dusty, determined fighters to a landing zone of fire-baked pavement. “Today, my new friends, we’ll show you how to kill a worm. Maybe two.”
“Shai-Hulud,” Stilgar said with great uneasiness. “Fremen used to worship the great worms.”
“Fremen depended upon the worms and the spice,” Liet replied quietly. “These people do not.”
“With each demon we eliminate, we give our planet a little more time to survive.” Var stared out into the desert as if his hatred could drive back the sands. Stilgar followed the man’s gaze across the deeply shadowed dunes, trying to imagine the landscape in front of him as lush and green.
The sun was just rising over an escarpment, glinting off the silvery hull of an old low-altitude flyer parked on an area of pounded gravel and flash-fused cement. Var’s people did not bother with permanent landing strips or spaceport zones, which would only be swallowed up by the spreading dunes.
Despite the protests of the two young men, Sheeana and Teg were forced to remain behind in the camp as hostages, watched suspiciously. Liet and Stilgar had been accepted on the hunt because of their invaluable knowledge of the desert. Today, they would demonstrate their skills.
Var’s commandos clambered into the heavily used craft. It had obviously weathered countless storms, rough flights, and incomplete maintenance; its