“There is more,” Mohiam said, glancing around to make sure they were not overheard. “Fausto Verdun, Landsraad member and proud descendant of Imperial heroes for centuries, holds clear sympathies to this alleged plot against the Imperial throne. I heard the intonation in his words. Any ‘rebel’ prisoners he holds must be for show, perhaps even reserve troops of his own.”
The Emperor felt a deep chill. “He endorses the Noble Commonwealth? Do you think he supported Jaxson Aru’s attack? He was conspicuously absent from Otorio when the impacts occurred.”
The Reverend Mother bowed. “That is beyond what even my abilities can determine, Sire, but the implication is clear.”
Flushed and wanting to go, the Emperor extricated his arm so he could leave Aricatha behind. “I was expected to welcome the visitors, my dear. You go ahead and deliver the speech for me. Just say nice things and then host the banquet. Keep them calm and happy.”
She smiled and accepted her new task. Sensing his urgency, the Imperial guards swept the other nobles and dignitaries clear so Shaddam could depart without delay.
* * *
ALONE IN HIS private offices, Shaddam summoned his Sardaukar commanders in order to seize this opportunity. They marched in with a crisp, alert demeanor, and he felt energized. He finally had the excuse he had been waiting for. He would at last make a very clear statement.
Colonel Bashar Kolona stood in front of the ornate desk, holding his officer’s cap. Two officers of equal rank joined him.
Shaddam sat in his plush chair, faced them. “I have identified a member of the insurrection, Duke Fausto Verdun. My Truthsayer confirms this.”
He had expected some flicker of surprise or dispute on their faces, but the Sardaukar remained implacable, waiting.
“Prepare a strike force. Wait for Duke Verdun to return to his homeworld, then lead a punitive raid. Wipe out that treacherous man and his entire family. It will be a message the Noble Commonwealth cannot fail to comprehend.”
Two of the officers straightened and acknowledged the orders. Only Kolona showed some hesitation. “Sire, all of the family? Some of Verdun’s children and relatives are young. They could not have done anything against the Imperium. Is it necessary to punish the entire family?”
“No survivors! I want the Verdun bloodline terminated, every last one of them erased from Imperial records.” He rested his elbows on the desktop. “This will be a warning for all to know.”
Nodding, Kolona took a half step back. “Yes, my Emperor.”
Shaddam thought of the “rebels” that Verdun had mentioned, the captives supposedly held in the prisons. They were likely part of the overall plot as well. “And bomb every prison, too. Kill all of them.”
Kolona was the first with a brisk salute. Shaddam liked him, this good man. All three officers left.
The Emperor looked down at the paperwork on his desk, saw files of candidates proposed by Aina Tere, possibilities of nobles to be elevated.
After the strike on Fausto Verdun, there would be yet another vacant holding in the Landsraad.
Historically, great progress comes about through bold visions. Only weak leaders make decisions based upon the phrase “Thus it has always been done.”
—JAXSON ARU, Justifications for the Noble Commonwealth, widely distributed leaflet
Tucked inside her CHOAM craft aboard the Guild Heighliner, Malina Aru pondered and worked, confident no one had any inkling she was aboard the great ship. The Guild always supported her privacy.
Malina’s mind was her office, and she continued her work wherever she was. Now on her way back to Tupile, she was almost home, and she longed to be there. Her planet was not on any marked route, but the Guild representative had quietly acknowledged her presence when the private ship docked. All transport records would be disguised and filed away. Security and secrecy were paramount to her.
It was a weakness to be homesick, but she did miss the bubble of safety that Tupile offered, both physically and psychologically. She longed to sit on her veranda and gaze toward the smoky-purple horizon, where other worries droned into background noise.
She also missed her two adoring spinehounds. Har and Kar were the only soft spot she allowed herself.
In her private stateroom, Malina studied documents, looked at the subtle connections and threads of commerce, reviewed hints and fine shadings that resulted in millions of solaris, profit or loss. She was intrigued to see that, due to the increased cost of melange, many minor nobles had turned away from the consumption of spice to alternative, lesser drugs. In particular, something called ailar, or the Caladan drug, was on the upswing, even though she couldn’t see how it was moved through normal CHOAM channels. Interesting.
Once she committed the financial analysis to memory, she tapped a glyph on the upper-right-hand corner of the document, which activated the acid in the ink and destroyed the papers in front of her.
Even though the Noble Commonwealth had been shocked to its core by Jaxson’s violence, supporters of the rebellion continued to sow the seeds of doubt among ruling families. The brash attack on Otorio had rattled the staid, contented nobles who had spoken, theoretically, about independence for generations, but perhaps the people needed a shock to the system. Other potential supporters had actually been inspired by the enthusiasm (fanaticism?) that Jaxson’s act had demonstrated.
As a mother, she loved him, but she did not approve of such wanton bloodshed, which served no purpose other than to underscore his impatience. She could not justify what he had done, although now she began to see some of the effects. Positive effects. New recruits had appeared unexpectedly, and maybe the movement was growing again. Perhaps her son could be an unwitting catalyst. Disavowing him and declaring him an outlaw before the Landsraad had only been part of what she had in mind. Ur-Director Malina Aru never did anything for simplistic reasons.
Though Jaxson should not have gone off on his own, perhaps he was right, at least in some sense. A strong hand was necessary to force the eventual breakup of the Imperium, a cudgel instead of a scalpel. His resounding strike had caused titanic shock waves across the galaxy, revealing just what the Noble Commonwealth could accomplish if they were inflamed.
Now Shaddam’s reactionary spice surtax served Malina’s purpose further, by driving countless wedges and angering noble houses that would not have previously considered leaving the Imperium. On the other hand, with so many slots open in the Landsraad, Shaddam IV would install only loyalists and lapdogs, and that would make the Noble Commonwealth’s work more difficult.…
While the Heighliner was in transit on its roundabout route home, Malina received a transmission on her private comm from the Guild contact, and it surprised her. “Urdir, we have arrived over planet Borhees for a scheduled stopover. We will experience two days of loading and off-loading. In the interim, we request a private meeting with you. An escort will come and provide access to the Steersmen’s piloting deck.”
The voice cut off before she could respond. She suddenly wondered if the Spacing Guild had uncovered her agreement with Baron Harkonnen to provide off-books melange. Though that spice was still prohibitively expensive, it remained out of Shaddam’s clutches. Since her actions were technically against Guild policy as well, she had hoped to keep the matter secret, but she was not so naïve as to think that the Guild did not also have discreet side channels for spice.