“No, you’re not,” the voice agreed, and that made her feel good.
Remembering the precise safe path to take, avoiding her previous missteps and false starts, Anna darted through the sangroves, working her way back to muddy but more solid ground, where Mentat searchers could find her.
When they spotted her, they pushed forward with a surge of energy. One trainee slipped on a sangrove root, but nearby Mentats pulled him back up as the razorjaws swirled, snapping at their missed meal.
“I am here,” Anna called as she made her way to the searchers, moving with more grace than they did. “I am safe.”
Inside her ear, the friendly voice said, “And I intend to keep you safe for a long time.”
Chapter 39 (Every grain of sand in the desert is different)
Every grain of sand in the desert is different, just as every planet in the Imperium is unique. But the more I see of offworld settlements, the more they look the same to me, like grains of sand.
— TAREF, “A Lament for Shurko”
On his first arrival at the EsconTran spacedocks, fully trained for his new mission, in disguise and with a false ID, Taref quickly found employment as an interim worker on a planet called Junction Alpha. He had never heard of it before. Junction Alpha was not one of the worlds that evoked exotic images, such as Salusa Secundus did, or the glittering former machine stronghold of Corrin … or Poritrin, from which the Zensunni had escaped their slavery. There was no grandeur on Junction Alpha, just noise, smells, hard work, and no more satisfaction than he’d felt on Arrakis. Compared to his dreams, the young man found the rest of the Imperium rather disappointing. Junction Alpha was just a different kind of desert.
With his new background from Venport Holdings, Taref understood just how much wealth the spice operations generated — and by rights that wealth should belong to the free people of the desert, rather than to some offworld company. Instead, the Freemen chose to live like beetles under rocks, casting their gazes backward and not even trying to see the path ahead.
Taref and his friends had grown up cocky and aloof. They summoned sandworms to ride across the desert and returned to the sietch whenever they felt like it, surviving on their own, sabotaging the intrusive spice harvesters whenever possible. They had thought themselves wise in the ways of life — until the VenHold Mentat made his intriguing offer.…
At least now, each new planet Taref visited — even the dirty, noisy, industrial worlds — showed him how ignorant and naïve he had been all his life. In the desert, he had believed he knew everything important, but upon leaving Arrakis he had been overwhelmed by the breadth of subjects about which he knew nothing. He could never learn them all, even if he spent a lifetime trying. The horizon of wisdom was far, far beyond his reach.
At Junction Alpha, he had worked in the shipyards, keeping his eyes open for the right opportunity, as Draigo had instructed him. His first contract sabotage job had been the most difficult — not mechanically or technically, but because he was nervous, convinced that someone would realize his job skills were minimal. The entire Escon company was in turmoil, however. People whispered whenever ships disappeared … and EsconTran ships disappeared far too often.
Junction Alpha was a stopping-over planet, and many of the through-passengers were Butlerians. Taref had learned that their legless leader drove them into wild rampages. According to Josef Venport’s vehement speech, Manford Torondo was the greatest enemy of civilization, the most dangerous man alive. Any VenHold operative had unofficial instructions to kill him on sight, should the opportunity arise.
On Junction Alpha, Taref had altered the fuel flow in a large cargo ship and adjusted the feedback loop on a passenger craft filled with Butlerian pilgrims. The first vessel flew off and vanished somewhere in deep space. The pilgrim transport exploded in-system moments before the engines folded space. EsconTran couldn’t hide that loss, and it was a dramatic embarrassment for the company. Since little wreckage remained, no investigator could determine that sabotage was the cause.
Taref had seen some of those fanatics board the ships, and he knew their bodies were now scattered across space. His sabotage was no longer theoretical, and a ship full of passengers had died because of his activities. He decided it wasn’t his place to question.
Working alone gave him time to miss Lillis, Shurko, Bentur, Waddoch, and Chumel. After finishing their training, his friends had been separated and dispatched far away to work on spacedocks or at commercial spaceports where they could intercept EsconTran ships and complete their acts of sabotage.
After his third sabotage, Taref decided he needed to report to Kolhar. So, when the next VenHold ship arrived at Junction Alpha, he resigned from his work at the spacedocks, a common occurrence. Workers came and went quickly; for most, this was never expected to be a long-term job. Taref used one of his numerous disguises, with a corresponding ID card, and transferred to the VenHold ship.
On Kolhar, he reported to the admin-tower to make his report to the Directeur. The young desert man had never met Josef Venport face-to-face, and the industrialist was an intimidating presence. Taref averted his eyes out of respect as he described his missions.
Draigo was present, remaining cool. Venport seemed happy with Taref’s work, particularly the pilgrim ship that had exploded in full view of everyone. But beyond the Directeur’s satisfaction and delight Taref saw a steely anger toward his competitor simmering just beneath the surface.
“Not only did your efforts remove an enemy ship, they also demonstrated how lax Escon safety is.” A smile crept up beneath his thick mustache. “As an added benefit, we got rid of several hundred fanatics. You don’t feel guilty about having blood on your hands, do you, young man?”
“In the desert we are no strangers to death.”
“My Mentat assured me that you and your companions are not cowards. So far, your success rate has been commendable, with sixteen clean sabotages and only one loss of an operative.”
Taref’s head snapped up, suddenly worried. “Someone has been lost, sir?”
“Yes. One of your confederates was manipulating a navigation system, rigging a ship to become lost in the void, but somehow he got assigned aboard the ship as a replacement crewmember at the last minute. He couldn’t transfer away without exposing the entire scheme, so he disappeared along with the vessel. Good man. Did his duty.”
Taref’s throat went dry. “Who was it?”
Venport frowned down at his desk as if searching for papers. The Mentat, standing at attention, said, “Shurko. One of the young men who came with you from Arrakis.”
A chill invaded Taref’s heart. Shurko, the one who hadn’t wanted to come in the first place. Taref had wanted to show him the seas of Caladan, but now that imagined reward felt empty. He struggled to keep his voice firm. “So Shurko is dead? The loss of the ship is confirmed?”
“Yes, a major blow to EsconTran,” Venport said, as if that made up for Shurko’s death.
“Shurko,” Taref whispered. He longed to see the rest of his companions, especially Lillis; they had so much to talk about, so many stories to share. And now Shurko … Maybe he should not have convinced his friends to come here with him. Maybe he should not have come himself.
Draigo said in an irritating monotone, “We have a new mission for you, Taref. Not in another Escon shipyard, but on Arrakis.”
Distracted by his own thoughts, Taref wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. “Arrakis? Why would you want me to go back there?”