The Baron reached beneath a drapery beside his suspensor bed, pressed a button to summon his older nephew, Rabban. He sat back, smiling.
The stupid guard captain had been right, of course. Certainly, nothing survived in the path of a sandblast storm on Arrakis. Not an ornithopter... or its occupants. The woman and the boy were dead. The bribes in the right places, the
The Baron could see the path ahead of him. One day, a Harkonnen would be Emperor. Not himself, and no spawn of his loins. But a Harkonnen. Not this Rabban he'd summoned, of course. But Rabban's younger brother, young Feyd-Rautha. There was a sharpness to the boy that the Baron enjoyed... a ferocity.
"M'Lord Baron."
The man who stood outside the doorfield of the Baron's bedchamber was low built, gross of face and body, with the Harkonnen paternal line's narrow-set eyes and bulge of shoulders. There was yet some rigidity in his fat, but it was obvious to the eye that he'd come one day to the portable suspensors for carrying his excess weight.
"My dear Rabban," the Baron said. He released the doorfield, but pointedly kept his body shield at full strength, knowing that the shimmer of it would be visible above the bedside glowglobe.
"You summoned me," Rabban said. He stepped into the room, flicked a glance past the air disturbance of the body shield, searched for a suspensor chair, found none.
"Stand closer where I can see you easily," the Baron said.
Rabban advanced another step, thinking that the damnable old man had deliberately removed all chairs, forcing a visitor to stand.
"The Atreides are dead," the Baron said. "The last of them. That's why I summoned you here to Arrakis. This planet is again yours."
Rabban blinked. "But I thought you were going to advance Piter de Vries to the—"
"Piter, too, is dead."
"Piter?"
"Piter."
The Baron reactivated the doorfield, blanked it against all energy penetration.
"You finally tired of him, eh?" Rabban asked.
His voice fell flat and lifeless in the energy-blanketed room.
"I will say a thing to you just this once," the Baron rumbled. "You insinuate that I obliterated Piter as one obliterates a trifle." He snapped fat fingers. "Just like that, eh? I am not so stupid, Nephew. I will take it unkindly if ever again you suggest by word or action that I am so stupid."
Fear showed in the squinting of Rabban's eyes. He knew within certain limits how far the old Baron would go against family. Seldom to the point of death unless there were outrageous profit or provocation in it. But family punishments could be painful.
"Forgive me, m'Lord Baron," Rabban said. He lowered his eyes as much to hide his own anger as to show subservience.
"You do not fool me, Rabban," the Baron said.
Rabban kept his eyes lowered, swallowed.
"I make a point," the Baron said. "Never obliterate a man unthinkingly, the way an entire fief might do it through some