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Scaled against the tiny projected human figures around it, the thing was about one hundred and twenty meters long and about forty meters wide. It was basically a long, buglike body moving on independent sets of wide tracks.
"This is a harvester factory," Hawat said. "We chose one in good repair for this projection. There's one dragline outfit that came in with the first team of Imperial ecologists, though, and it's still running ... although I don't know how ... or why."
"If that's the one they call 'Old Maria,' it belongs in a museum," an aide said. "I think the Harkonnens kept it as a punishment job, a threat hanging over their workers' heads. Be good or you'll be assigned to Old Maria."
Chuckles sounded around the table.
Paul held himself apart from the humor, his attention focused on the projection and the question that filled his mind. He pointed to the image on the table, said: "Thufir, are there sandworms big enough to swallow that whole?"
Quick silence settled on the table. The Duke cursed under his breath, then thought: No--they have tofacethe realities here.
"There're worms in the deep desert could take this entire factory in one gulp," Hawat said. "Up here closer to the Shield Wall where most of the spicing's done there are plenty of worms that could cripple this factory and devour it at their leisure."
"Why don't we shield them?" Paul asked.
"According to Idaho's report," Hawat said, "shields are dangerous in the desert. A body-size shield will call every worm for hundreds of meters around. It appears to drive them into a killing frenzy. We've the Fremen word on this and no reason to doubt it. Idaho saw no evidence of shield equipment at the sietch."
"None at all?" Paul asked.
"It'd be pretty hard to conceal that kind of thing among several thousand people," Hawat said. "Idaho had free access to every part of the sietch. He saw no shields or any indication of their use."
"It's a puzzle," the Duke said.
"The Harkonnens certainly used plenty of shields here," Hawat said. "They had repair depots in every garrison village, and their accounts show a heavy expenditure for shield replacements and parts."
"Could the Fremen have a way of nullifying shields?" Paul asked.
"It doesn't seem likely," Hawat said. "It's theoretically possible, of course--a shire-sized static counter charge is supposed to do the trick, but no one's ever been able to put it to the test."
"We'd have heard about it before now," Halleck said. "The smugglers have close contact with the Fremen and would've acquired such a device if it were available. And they'd have had no inhibitions against marketing it off planet."
"I don't like an unanswered question of this importance," Leto said. "Thufir, I want you to give top priority to solution of this problem."
"We're already working on it, my Lord." He cleared his throat. "Ah-h, Idaho did say one thing: he said you couldn't mistake the Fremen attitude toward shields. He said they were mostly amused by them."
The Duke frowned, then: "The subject under discussion is spicing equipment."
Hawat gestured to his aide at the projector.
The solido-image of the harvester-factory was replaced by a projection of a winged device that dwarfed the images of human figures around it. "This is a carryall," Hawat said. "It's essentially a large 'thopter, whose sole function is to deliver a factory to spice-rich sands, then to rescue the factory when a sandworm appears. They always appear. Harvesting the spice is a process of getting in and getting out with as much as possible."
"Admirably suited to Harkonnen morality," the Duke said.
Laughter was abrupt and too loud.
An ornithopter replaced the carryall in the projection focus.
"These 'thopters are fairly conventional," Hawat said. "Major modifications give them extended range. Extra care has been used in sealing essential areas against sand and dust. Only about one in thirty is shielded--possibly discarding the shield generator's weight for greater range."
"I don't like this de-emphasis on shields," the Duke muttered. And he thought: Is this the Harkonnen secret? Does it mean we won't even be able to escape on shielded frigates if all goes against us? He shook his head sharply to drive out such thoughts, said: "Let's get to the working estimate. What'll our profit figure be?"
Hawat turned two pages in his notebook. "After assessing the repairs and operable equipment, we've worked out a first estimate on operating costs. It's based naturally on a depreciated figure for a clear safety margin." He closed his eyes in Mentat semitrance, said: "Under the Harkonnens, maintenance and salaries were held to fourteen per cent. We'll be lucky to make it at thirty per cent at first. With reinvestment and growth factors accounted for, including the CHOAM percentage and military costs, our profit margin will be reduced to a very narrow six or seven per cent until we can replace worn-out equipment. We then should be able to boost it up to twelve or fifteen per cent where it belongs." He opened his eyes. "Unless my Lord wishes to adopt Harkonnen methods."
"We're working for a solid and permanent planetary base," the Duke said. "We have to keep a large percentage of the people happy--especially the Fremen."
"Most especially the Fremen," Hawat agreed.
"Our supremacy on Caladan," the Duke said, "depended on sea and air power. Here, we must develop something I choose to call desert power. This may include air power, but it's possible it may not. I call your attention to the lack of 'thopter shields." He shook his head. "The Harkonnens relied on turnover from off planet for some of their key personnel. We don't dare. Each new lot would have its quota of provocateurs."
"Then we'll have to be content with far less profit and a reduced harvest," Hawat said. "Our output the first two seasons should be down a third from the Harkonnen average."
"There it is," the Duke said, "exactly as we expected. "We'll have to move fast with the Fremen. I'd like five full battalions of Fremen troops before the first CHOAM audit."
"That's not much time, Sire," Hawat said.
"We don't have much time, as you well know. They'll be here with Sardaukar disguised as Harkonnens at the first opportunity. How many do you think they'll ship in, Thufir?"
"Four or five battalions all told, Sire. No more, Guild troop-transport costs being what they are."
"Then five battalions of Fremen plus our own forces ought to do it. Let us have a few captive Sardaukar to parade in front of the Landsraad Council and matters will be much different--profits or no profits."
"We'll do our best, Sire."
Paul looked at his father, back to Hawat, suddenly conscious of the Mentat's great age, aware that the old man had served three generations of Atreides. Aged. It showed in the rheumy shine of the brow
n eyes, in the cheeks cracked and burned by exotic weathers, in the rounded curve of the shoulders and the thin set of his lips with the cranberry-colored stain of sapho juice.
So much depends on one aged man, Paul thought.
"We're presently in a war of assassins," the Duke said, "but it has not achieved full scale. Thufir, what's the condition of the Harkonnen machine here?"
"We've eliminated two hundred and fifty-nine of their key people, my Lord. No more than three Harkonnen cells remain--perhaps a hundred people in all."
"These Harkonnen creatures you eliminated," the Duke said, "were they propertied?"
"Most were well situated, my Lord--in the entrepreneur class."
"I want you to forge certificates of allegiance over the signatures of each of them," the Duke said. "File copies with the Judge of the Change. We'll take the legal position that they stayed under false allegiance. Confiscate their property, take everything, turn out their families, strip them. And make sure the Crown gets its ten per cent. It must be entirely legal."
Thufir smiled, revealing red-stained teeth beneath the carmine lips. "A move worthy of your grandsire, my Lord. It shames me I didn't think of it first."
Halleck frowned across the table, noticing a deep scowl on Paul's face. The others were smiling and nodding.
It's wrong, Paul thought. This'll only make the others fight all the harder. They've nothing to gain by surrendering.
He knew the actual no-holds-barred convention that ruled in kanly, but this was the sort of move that could destroy them even as it gave them victory.
" 'I have been a stranger in a strange land,' " Halleck quoted.
Paul stared at him, recognizing the quotation from the O.C. Bible, wondering: Does Gurney, too, wish an end to devious plots?
The Duke glanced at the darkness out the windows, looked back at Halleck. "Gurney, how many of those sandworkers did you persuade to stay with us?"
"Two hundred eighty-six in all, Sire. I think we should take them and consider ourselves lucky. They're all in useful categories."
"No more?" The Duke pursed his lips, then: "Well, pass the word along to--"
A disturbance at the door interrupted him. Duncan Idaho came through the guard there, hurried down the length of the table and bent over the Duke's ear.
