Tales of Dune by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Brian Herbert & Kevin J. Anderson, dune, Wedding Silk, Sea Child, Treasure in the Sand, Dune: Blood and Water, Dune: Fremen Justice
Publisher: WordFire Press
Published: 2012-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

The End

DUNE: FREMEN JUSTICE

(also published as “Nighttime Shadows on Open Sand”)

“Nature commits no errors; right and wrong are human categories.”

—Pardot Kynes, Arrakis Lectures

Monotonous days. The three-man Harkonnen patrol cruised over the golden swells of dunes along a thousand-kilometer flight path. In the unrelenting desert landscape, even a puff of dust caused excitement.

The troopers flew their armored ornithopter in a long circle, skirting mountains, then curving south over great pans and flatlands. Glossu Rabban, the Baron’s nephew and temporary governor of Arrakis, had ordered them to fly regularly, to be seen—to show the squalid settlements that Harkonnens were watching. Always.

Kiel, the sidegunner, considered the assignment a license to hunt any Fremen found wandering near legitimate spice-harvesting operations. What made those dirty wanderers think they could trespass on Harkonnen lands without permission from the district office in Carthag? But few Fremen were ever caught abroad in daylight, and the task had grown dull.

Garan flew the ’thopter, rising up and dipping down to catch thermals, as if operating an amusement ride. He maintained a stoic expression, though occasionally a grin stole across his lips as the craft bucked and jostled in rough air. As they completed their fifth day on patrol, he continued to mark discrepancies on topographical maps, muttering in disgust each time he found another mistake. These were the worst charts he had ever used.

In the back passenger compartment sat Josten, recently transferred from Giedi Prime. Accustomed to industrial facilities, gray skies, and dirty buildings, Josten gazed out over the sandy wastelands, studying hypnotic dune patterns. He spotted the knot of dust off to the south, deep in the open Funeral Plain. “What’s that? Spice-harvesting operation?”

“Not a chance,” the sidegunner Kiel said. “Harvesters shoot a plume like a cone into the air, straight and thin.”

“Too low for a dust devil. Too small.” With a shrug, Garan jerked the ’thopter controls and soared toward the low, reddish-brown cloud. “Let’s take a look.” After so many tedious days, they would have gone out of their way to investigate a large rock sticking out of the sand.…

When they reached the site, they found no tracks, no machinery, no sign of human presence—and yet acres of desert looked devastated. A mottled rust color stained the sands a darker ochre, as if blood from a wound had dried in the hot sun.

“Looks like somebody dropped a bomb here,” Kiel said.

“Could be the aftermath of a spice blow,” Garan suggested. “I’ll set down for a closer look.”

As the ’thopter settled on the churned sands, Kiel popped open the hatch. The temperature-controlled atmosphere hissed out, replaced by a wave of heat. He coughed dust.

Garan leaned over from the cockpit and sniffed hard. “Smell it.” The odor of burnt cinnamon struck his nostrils. “Spice blow for sure.”

Josten squeezed past Kiel and dropped onto the soft ground. Amazed, he bent down, picked up a handful of ochre sand and touched it to his lips. “Can we scoop up some fresh spice and take it back? Must be worth a fortune.”

Kiel had been thinking the same thing, but now he turned to the newcomer with scorn.

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