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No Plagiarism!73wheAGDAID8oKI1voRbposted on PENANA There was an odd correspondence between prediction and persons, or so Dr. Holstein believed. Yes, the boy fitted the ancient prophecy so exactly. He had the "questing eyes," and the air of reserved candor." But the prophecy left certain latitude as to whether the Mother Goddess would bring the Messiah with her or produce Him on the scene.
They met in midmorning outside the Mat E'trov landing field's administration building. A Romanov guard, his saber bared and the faint air-distortion of a shield around him, stood by a nearby humming ornimajigger.
Holstein sneered at the shield patterning, thinking: Dyuna has a surprise for them there!
The planetologist strode on ahead towards the entrance, a dark hole in plastic-coated rock. So exposed, that monolithic building, he thought. So much less suitable than a cave. Holstein raised a hand, signaling his Szgany guard to fall back.
He stopped, taking a moment to adjust his robe, his stillsuit's snap at the left shoulder. Movement inside the entrance caught his attention.
The rhythm of his jubba cloak, with a Romanov crest at the breast, was not free-swinging and striding. He wore it in a way that betrayed his unfamiliarity with the garment, the legs of his stillsuit clinging to one side. Heavily armed Romanov guards emerged swiftly, all of them brandishing slow-pellet stunners, sabers and shields. Behind them came a tall man, hawk-faced, dark of skin and hair. The entrance doors swung wide open.
A youngster with the same dark hair, but with a rounder face, walked beside the man. Holstein recognized the youth as being fifteen years old, but he did not look it. However, his body carried a sense of command, poise, and assurance, as if he knew things others did not. He wore a cloak that resembled his father's, yet with a casual ease that made one think he was born wearing such clothing.
It was prophesied that Naheeb Diddy would see things that others cannot!
Holstein shook his head and told himself to stop.
The two men, dressed in their desert garb, were accompanied by a man Holstein recognized -- Gustav Vasa! Holstein took a deep breath, resolving not to resent Vasa for telling him how to deal with the Duke and ducal heir.
"You may call the Duke 'milord' or 'Sire.' 'Nobleman' is also correct, but is usually reserved for formal occasions."
Expect me to guide them on an inspection of spice mining, do they? thought Holstein as he watched the group approach. Order me questioned half the night by that Technopath, will they? They'll learn soon enough who's master on Dyuna.
It was the Imperial bases they wanted. The import of Botkin's questions had not escaped Holstein. Obviously, they'd learned of the bases from Ukrainia.
I'll have Trek-Jush send Ukrainia's head to this Duke, Holstein told himself.
The ducal party was just a few parsecs away now, their feet in desert boots crunching the sand.
Holstein bowed. "Milord, Duke."
Remains of dark stains smudged his eye sockets. The eyes were that fathomless blue-within-blue under thick brows. The man's hood was thrown back, its veil hanging to one side, revealing long, sandy hair, a sparse beard. As he had approached the solitary figure standing near the ornimajigger, Nicholas had studied him: tall, thin, dressed for the desert in loose robe, stillsuit, and low boots.
"The ecologist, I presume," the Duke said.
"We prefer the old title here, milord," Holstein said. "Planetologist."
"As you wish," the Duke said. He glanced down at Alexei. "Son, this is the Judge of the Change, the arbiter of dispute, the man sent her to see that the forms are obeyed in our assumption of power over this fief." He glanced at Holstein. "And this is my son."
"Milord," Holstien said.
"Are you a Szgany?" Alexei said.
Holstein smiled. "I'm accepted in both s'yetche and village, young Master. But I am in His Highness's service, the Imperial Planetologist."
Alexei nodded, impressed by the man's air of strength. Vasa had pointed Holstein out to Alexei from an upper window of the administration building: "The man standing there with the Szgany escort---the one moving now towards the ornimajigger."
Alexei had inspected Holstein briefly with binoculars, nothing but the prim, straight mouth, the high forehead. Vasa had spoken in Alexei's ear: "Odd kind of fellow, him. Has a precise way of speaking---clipped off, no fuzzy edges---razor apt."
And the Duke, behind them, had said: "Scientist type."
Now only a few feet from the man, Alexei sensed the power in Holstein, the impact of personality, as if he were blood royal, born to command.
"I understand we have you to thank for our stillsuits and these cloaks," the Duke said.
"I hope they fit you well, milord," Holstein said. "They're of Szgany make and as near as possible the dimensions given me by your man Vasa here."
"We don't intend to be out long, and we'll have air cover---the escort you see overhead right now," the Duke said. "I was worried that you said you couldn't take us into the desert unless we wore these garments."
Holstein stared at him, seeing the water-fat flesh. He spoke coldly. "You never talk of likelihoods on Dyuna. You speak only of possibilities."
Vasa stiffened. "The Duke is to be addressed as milord or Sire!"
Nicholas gave Vasa their private handsignal to desist, said: "Our ways our new here, Gustav."
"Yes, Sire."
"We are indebted to you, Dr. Holstein," Nicholas said. "These suits and the consideration for our welfare will be remembered."
On impulse, Alexei called to mind a quotation from the A.O. Bible, said: " 'The gift is the blessing of the river.'"
The words rang out overloud in the still air. The Szgany escort Holstein had left in the shade of the administration building leaped up from their squatting repose, muttering in open agitation. One cried out: "Lekom or-Goeb!"
Holstein whistled, gave a curt, chopping signal with a hand, waved the guard away. They fell back, grumbling among themselves, trailed away around the building.
"Very interesting," Nicholas said.
Holstein passed a hard glare over the Duke and Alexei, said: "Most of the desert natives here are a superstitious lot. Pay them no attention. They're harmless." But he thought of the words of the legend: "They will greet you with Sacred Words and your gifts shall be a blessing."
By his manner, Holstein was a proud man, accustomed to freedom, his tongue and his manner guarded solely by his own suspicions. Nicholas's assessment of Holstein, based partly on Botkin's brief oral report (guarded and full of suspicions) ---suddenly crystallized: the man was Szgany. Holstein had come with a Szgany escort, which could mean just that the Szganys were testing their new freedom to enter urban areas---but it had seemed an honor guard.
Holstein had gone native!
"Shouldn't we be going, Sire?" Vasa asked.
The Duke nodded. "I'll fly my own 'majigger. Holstein can sit up front with me to guide me. You and Alexei take the rear seats.
"One moment, please," Holstein said. "With your permission, Sire, I must check the security of your suits."
The Duke began to speak, but Holstein pressed the issue: "I have concern for my own flesh as well as yours, milord. I'm well aware of whose head would roll should harm befall you two while you're in my care."
The Duke frowned, thinking: How delicate this moment is! If I refuse, it may offend him. And this could be a man whose value to me is beyond measure. Yet, to let him inside my barrier, touching my person when I know so little about him?
The thoughts flicked through his mind with decision hard on their heels. "We're in your hands," the Duke said. He stepped forth, opening his robe, saw Vasa come up on the balls of his feet, poised and alert, but staying where he was. "If you'd be so kind," the Duke said, "I'd appreciate an explanation of the suit from one who lives so intimately with it."
"Of course," Holstein said. He felt up under the robe for the shoulder snaps, speaking as he examined the suit. "Essentially, it's a micro-sandwich, a high-efficiency filter and heat-exchange system." He adjusted the shoulder seals. "The skin-contact layer is porous. Perspiration passes through it after having cooled down the boy---near normal evaporation process. The next two layers...." Holstein tightened the chest fit. "....included heat-exchange filaments and salt precipitators. The body's salt is thus reclaimed."
The Duke lifted his arms at a gesture and said, "Fascinating."
"Breathe deeply," Holstein said.
The Duke complied.
Holstein studied the unarm seals, adjusted one. "Motions of the body, especially breathing," he said, "and some osmotic action provide the pumping force." He loosened the chest fit slightly. "Reclaimed water circulates to catchpockets from which you draw it through this tube in the clip at your neck."
The Duke twisted his chin in and down to look at the tube's end. "Efficient and convenient," he said. "A true engineering marvel."
Holstein knelt, examined the leg snaps."In open desert, you wear this filter across your face, this tube in the nostrils with these plugs to assure a tight fit. Breathe in through the mouth filter, out through the nose tube. "Urine and feces are processed in the thigh pads," he said, and stood up, felt the neck fitting, lifted a sectioned flap there.
"A thimbleful per day," the Duke said.
Holstein pressed a finger against the suit's forehead pad and said: "This may rub a little. If it irritates you, do let me know. I could slit-patch it a bit tighter."
"Many thanks," the Duke said. He moved his shoulders in the suit as Holstein stepped back, realizing that it did feel better now---tighter and less annoying.
Holstein turned to Alexei. "Now, let's have a look at you, lad."
A good man but he'll have to learn to address us properly, thought the Duke.
Alexei stood passively as Holstein inspected the suit. It'd been an odd sensation putting on the crinkling, slick-surfaced garment. In his foreconsciousness had been the total knowledge that he'd never before worn a stillsuit. Yet, each motion of adjusting the adhesion tabs under Gustav's inexpert guidance had seemed natural and instinctive. When he had tightened the chest to gain maximum pumping action from the motion of breathing, he'd known what he did and why. When he had fitted the neck and forehead tabs tightly, he had known it was to prevent friction blisters.
Holstein straightened, stepped back with a puzzled expression. "Have you worn a stillsuit before?" he asked.
"No, this is the first time."
"Did someone adjust it for you?"
"No."
"Your desert boots are fitted slip-fashion at the ankles. Who taught you that?"
"It seemed like the right way."
"It most assuredly is the right way!"
Holstein rubbed his cheek, thinking of the legend. "And he shall know your ways as if born to them."
"We're wasting time," the Duke said. He gestured to the waiting 'majigger, led the way, accepting the guard's salute with a nod. He climbed in, fastened his safety harness, checked controls and instruments. The craft creaked as the others clambered aboard.
Holstein fastened his harness, focused on the padded comfort of the aircraft---soft luxury of gray-green upholstery, gleaming instruments, the sensation of filtered and washed air in his lungs as doors slammed and vent fans whirred to life.
So soft! he thought.
"All secure, Sire," Vasa said.
Nicholas powered up the wings, felt the cup and dip---once, twice. They were airborne in ten meters, wings feathered tightly and afterjets thrusting them upward in a steep, hissing climb.
"Southeast over the Barrier Wall," Holstein said. "That's where I told your sandmaster to focus his equipment."
"Acknowledged."
The Duke banked into his air cover, the other craft taking up their guard positions as they headed south by southeast.
"The design and manufacture of these stillsuits bespeaks a high degree of sophistication," the Duke said.
"Someday, I may show you a s'yetche factory," Holstein said.
"I believe I would find that interesting," said the Duke. "I note that suits are manufactured also in some of the garrison cities."
"Bah! They're inferior copies," Holstein said. "Any Dyuni man who values his life wears a Szgany suit."
"And it'll really hold your water loss to a thimbleful a day?"
"Properly suited, your forehead cap tight, all seals in order, your major water loss is through the palm of your hands," Holstein said. "You can wear suit gloves if you're not using your hands for critical work, but most Szganys in the open desert rub their hands with juice from the leaves of the kreozot bush. It inhibits perspiration."
The Duke glanced down to the left at the broken landscape of the Barrier Wall---chasms of tortured rock, patches of yellow-brown crossed by black lines of fault shattering. It was as if someone had dropped this ground from space and left it where it smashed.
They crossed a shallow basin with the clear outline of gray sand spreading across it from a canyon opening to the south. The sand fingers ran out into the basin---a dry delta outlined against darker rock.
Holstein sat back, thinking about the water-fat flesh he'd felt beneath the stillsuits. They wore shield-belts over their robes, slow pellet stunners at the waist, coin-sized emergency transmitters on cords around their necks. Both the Duke and his son carried knives in wrist sheathes and the sheathes appeared to be well worn. The people struck Holstein as a strange combination of softness and armed might. There was a poise to them totally unlike the Seppanens.
"When you report to the Sultan on the change of government here, will you say we observed the rules?" Nicholas asked. He glanced at Holstein, back to their course.
"The Seppanens left, you came," Holstien said.
"And all is as it should be?" Nicholas asked.
Momentary tension showed in the tightening of a muscle along Holstein's jaw. "As Planetologist and Judge of the Change, I am a direct subject of the Imperium, milord."
The Duke smiled grimly. "But we both know the realities, don't we?"
"I remind you that His Highness supports my work."
"Does now, now? What, pray tell, is your work?"
In the brief quiet, Alexei thought: He's pushing this Holstein too hard. Alexei glanced at Vasa, but the minstrel-warrior was staring out at the barren landscape.
Holstein spoke stiffly: "You, of course, refer to my duties as a planetologist."
"Of course."
"It is mostly dry land biology and botany---some geological work---core drilling and testing. You never really exhaust the possibilities of a whole planet."
"Do you also investigate the spice?"
Holstein turned, and Alexei noted the hard line of the man's cheek. "That is a curious question, milord."
"Keep in mind, Holstein, that this is now my fief. My methods differ from those of the Seppanens. I don't care if you study the spice as long as you share what you discover." He glanced at the planetologist. "The Seppanens discouraged investigation of the spice, did they not?"
Holstein stared back without answering.
"You may speak plainly," the Duke said, "without fear for your skin."
"The Imperial Court is, indeed, a long way off," Holstein muttered. And he thought; What does this water-soft invader expect? Does he think me fool enough to enlist with him?
The Duke chuckled, keeping his attention on their course. "I detect a sour note in your voice, sir. We've waded in here with our mob of tame killers, heh? Thus, we expect you to realize immediately that we're different from the Seppanens?"
"I've seen the propaganda you've flooded into s'yetche and village," Holstein said. " 'Love the good Duke! Your corps of...."
"Here now!" Vasa barked. He snapped his attention away from the window, leaned forward.
Alexei put a hand on Vasa's arm.
"Gustav!" the Duke said. He glanced back. "This man's been long under the Seppanens."
Vasa sat back. "Otets!"
"Your man Botkin's a subtle fellow," Holstein said, "but his object's plain enough."
"Will you open those bases to us, then?" the Duke asked.
Holstein spoke curtly: "Emphatically no! They belong to His Highness."
"He's not using them."
"He could use them."
"And His Highness agrees?"
Holstein darted a hard stare at the Duke. "Dyuna could be a rainforest planet if only its rulers would look up from grubbing for spice!"
He didn't answer my question, the Duke thought. He said: "How does one make a rainforest planet out of something like Dyuna if there are no funds to support such an effort?"
"Of what use are funds," Holstein asked, "if they won't buy the services you need?"
Ah-hah! the Duke thought. And he said: "We'll speak of this another time. Right now, I believe we're coming to the edge of the Barrier Wall. Do I hold the same course?"
"The same course, yes," Holstein muttered.
Alexei looked out his window. Beneath them, the broken ground began to droop away in tumbled creases towards a barren rock plain and a knife-edged shelf. Beyond the shelf, fingernail crescents of dunes marched towards the horizon with here and there in the distance a dull smudge, a darker blotch to tell of something not sand. Rock outcropping, maybe. In the heat-addled air, Alexei just couldn't be sure."
"Is there any plant life down there?" Alexei asked.
"Some," Holstein said. "This latitude's biozone has mostly what we call minor water bandits---adapted to raiding for moisture, gobbling up the trace-dew. Some parts of the desert teem with life. But all of it has learned to survive under these rigors. If you get caught down there, you either imitate that life or die."
"You mean steal water from each other?" Alexei asked. The idea outraged him, and his voice betrayed his emotion.
"It's done," Holstein said, "but that wasn't quite my meaning. You see, my climate demands a special attitude towards water. You are aware of water at all times. You waste nothing that contains moisture."
And the Duke thought: "....my climate?!"
"Come around two degrees more southerly, milord," Holstein said. "There's a blow coming up from the west."
The Duke nodded, for he had seen the billowing of tan dust there. He banked the 'majigger around, noting the way the escort's wings reflected milky orange from the dust-refracted light as they turned to keep up with him.
"This should clear the storm's edge," Holstein said.
"That sand must be dangerous if you fly into it," Alexei said. "Will it really cut even the strongest metals."
"At this altitude it's not sand, just mere dust," Holstein said. "The danger is lack of visibility, turbulence, clogged intakes."
"Will we see actual spice mining today?" Alexei asked.
"Most likely," Holstein said.
Alexei sat back. He'd used the questions and hyperawareness to do what his mother called "registering" the person. He had Holstein now---tune of voice, each detail of face and gesture. An unnatural folding off the left sleeve on the man's robe told of a knife in an arm sheath. The waist bulged strangely. It was said that the desert men wore a belted sash into which they tucked little necessities. Maybe the buglers came from such a sash---certainly not from a hidden barrier belt. A copper pin engraved with the likeness of a hare clasped the neck of Holstein's robe. Another smaller pin with similar likeness hung at the corner of the hood which was thrown back over his shoulders.
Vasa twisted in the seat beside Alexei, reached back into the rear compartment and brought out his ostriolkusk. Holstein looked around as Vasa tuned up the instrument, then returned his attention to their course.
"What would you like to hear, young Master?"
"You choose, Gustav," Alexei said.
Vasa bent his ear close to the sounding board, strummed a chord and sang softly:
"Our fathers ate manna in the desert,139Please respect copyright.PENANAkuR7TAOGLH
In the burning places where whirlwinds came,139Please respect copyright.PENANAMGTJE2QDBj
Lord, save us from that terrible land!139Please respect copyright.PENANAkvNbEdPm7m
Save us....oh-h-h-h-h, save us139Please respect copyright.PENANACgAMPvFNJJ
From this dry and thirsty land."
Holstein glanced at the Duke, said: "You do travel with a light compliment of guards, milord. Are all of them such men of many talents?"
"Gustav?" The Duke chuckled. "Gustav's one of a kind. I like him with me for his eyes. His eyes miss practically nothing."
The planetologist frowned.
Without missing a beat in his tune, Vasa interposed.
"For I am like an owl of the desert, lo!139Please respect copyright.PENANA9RN6q4lWoH
Aiyah! Like an owl of the desert, lo!"
The Duke reached down, brought up a microphone from the instrument panel, thumbed it into life, said: "Leader to Escort Gemma. Flying object at nine o'clock, Sector B. Do you identify it?"
"It's only a bird," Holstein said, and added, "You have sharp eyes."
The panel speaker crackled, then: "Escort Gemma. Object examined under full amplification. It's a large bird."
Alexei looked in the indicated direction, saw the distant speck: a dot of intermittent motion, and realized how keyed up his father must be. Every sense was at full alert.
"I'd not realized there were birds that large this far into the desert," the Duke said.
"That's likely a hawk," Holstein said. "Many terranic creatures have adapted to this planet."
The ornimajigger swept over a bare rock plain. Alexei looked down from their two thousand meters' high altitude, saw the wrinkled shadow of their craft and escort. The land beneath seemed flat, but shadow wrinkles said otherwise.
"Has anyone ever walked out of the desert?" the Duke said.
Vasa's music came to a halt. He leaned forth to catch the answer.
"Not from the deep desert," Holstein said. "Men have walked out of the second zone several times. They've survived by crossing the rock areas where wurms seldom go."
The timbre of Holstein's voice held Alexei's attention. He felt his senses come alert the way they were trained to do.
"Ah-hah! The wurms," said the Duke. "I must see one sometime."
"You may see one today," Holstein said. "Wherever there is spice, there are wurms."
"Always?" Vasa asked.
"Always."
"Is there a connection between wurm and spice?" the Duke asked.
Holstein turned and Alexei saw the pursed lips as the man spoke. "They defend spice sands. Each wurm has a territory. As to the spice, well, who can say? Wurm specimens we've examined lead us to suspect complicated chemical interchanges within them. We find traces of hydrochloric acid in the ducts, more complex acid forms elsewhere. I'll give you my multigraph on the subject."
"Is a barrier no defense?" asked the Duke.
"Barriers!" Holstein sneered. "If you activate a barrier within the wurmzone, you'll meet your fate. Wurms ignore territory lines, come from far around to attack a barrier. No man wearing a barrier has ever survived such an attack."
"How are wurms taken, then?"
"High voltage electric shock applied to the blubber, beneath the top layer of skin, is the only way to kill and preserve an entire wurm," Holstein said. "They can be stunned and shattered by explosives, but the blubber has a life of its own. Barring nuclears, I know of no explosive powerful enough to destroy a large wurm entirely. They're unbelievably tough."
"Why hasn't an effort been made to exterminate them?" Alexei asked.
"It's prohibitively expensive," Holstein said. "There's just too much area to cover."
Alexei leaned back in his corner. His truthsense, awareness of true shadings, told him that Holstein was lying and telling half-truths. And he thought: If there's a relationship between spice and the wurms, killing the wurms would destroy the spice.
"No one will have to walk out of the desert soon," the Duke said. "Trip these little transmitters at our neck and rescue is on its way. All our workers will be wearing them before long. We're setting up a special rescue service."
"Very commendable," Holstein said.
"Your tone says you disagree," the Duke said.
"Oh, I agree. But it's not going to be much use, I fear. Static electricity from sandstorms masks out many signals. Transmitters short out. They've been tried here before, you know. Dyuna is tough on equipment. And if a wurm's hunting you there's not much time; fifteen or twenty minutes at most."
"What would you advise?" the Duke asked.
"You ask my advice?"
"As a planetologist, yes?"
"Would you take my advice?"
"If I consider it sensible?"
"All right, milord. Never travel alone."
The Duke turned his attention from the controls. "That's all?"
"That's all. Never travel alone."
"What if you're separated by a storm and forced down?" Vasa asked. "Isn't there anything you can do?"
"Anything covers much territory," Holstein said.
"What would you do?" asked Alexei.
Holstein turned a hard stare at the boy, brought his attention back to the Duke. "I'd remember to defend the integrity of my stillsuit. If I were outside the wurm zone or in rock, I'd stay with the ship. If I were down in open sand, I'd get away from the ship as fast as I could. About a thousand meters would be far enough. Then I'd hide beneath my robe. A wurm would get the ship, but it might miss me.'
"Then what?" Vasa asked.
Holstein shrugged. "Wait for the wurm to leave."
"That's all?" Alexei asked.
"When the wurm has gone, one may try to walk out," Holstein said. "You must walk softly, avoid drum sands, tidal dust basins---head for the nearest rock zone. There are many such zones. You might make it."
"Drum sand?" Vasa asked.
"A condition of sand compaction," Holstein said. "The slightest step sets it drumming. Wurms always come to that."
"And a tidal dust basin?" the Duke asked.
"Certain depressions in the desert have filled with dust over the centuries. Some are so vast they have currents and tides. All will swallow the unwary who step into them."
Vasa sat back, resumed strumming the ostriolkusk. Presently he sang:
"Wild beasts of the desert do hunt thre,139Please respect copyright.PENANAhSp5UgRKNe
Waiting for the innocents to pass.139Please respect copyright.PENANAVioQTLXRai
"Oh-h-h, tempt not the desert gods,139Please respect copyright.PENANAHmqeIlhVYb
Lest you seek a lonely epitaph.139Please respect copyright.PENANAS71N6ND2Co
The perils of the..."
He broke off, leaned forward. "Dust cloud ahead, Sire."
"I see it, Gustav."
"That's what we seek," Holstein said.
Alexei stretched up in the seat to peer ahead, saw a rolling yellow cloud low on the desert floor some 30 kilometers ahead.
"One of your factory crawlers," Holstein said. "It's on the surface and that means it's on spice. The cloud is vented sand being discharged after the spice has been centrifugally removed. There's no other cloud quite like it."
"Aircraft over it," the Duke said.
"I see four spotters," Holstein said. "They're watching for wurmsign."
"Wurmsign?" the Duke asked.
"A sandwave moving towards the crawler. They'll have seismic probes on the surface, too. Wurms sometimes travel too deep for the wave to show." Holstein swung his gaze around the sky. "There should be a carryall wing around, but I don't see it."
"The wurm always comes?" Vasa asked.
"Always."
Alexei leaned forward, touched Holstein's shoulder. "How big an area does a whale stake out?"
Holstein frowned. "Well, that all depends on the size of the wurm."
"What's the variation?" the Duke asked.
"Big ones may control 3 or 4 hundred square kilometers. Small ones..." He broke off as the Duke activated the jet brakes. The ship bucked as its tail pods whispered to silence. Stub wings elongated, cupped the air. The craft became a full 'majigger as the Duke banked it, holding the wings to a gentle beat, pointing with his left hand off to the east beyond the factory crawler.
"Is that wurmsign?"
Holstein leaned across the Duke to peer into the distance.
Alexei and Vasa were crowded together, looking in the same direction, and Alexei noted that their escort, caught by the sudden maneuver, had surged ahead, but now it was curving back. The factory crawler lay ahead of them, still some three kilometers away.
Where the Duke pointed, crescent dune tracks spread shallow ripples towards the horizon and, running through them as a level line stretching into the distance, came an elongated mount-in-motion---a cresting of sand. It reminded Alexei of the way a big fish disturbed the water when swimming just below the surface.
"Wurm," Holstein said. "A big one." He leaned back, grabbed the microphone from the panel, punched out a new frequency selection. Glancing at the grid chart on rollers over the heads, he spoke into the microphone. "Wurmsign warning! Wurmsign warning! Crawler at Delta Ajax niner, please acknowledge!" He waited.
The panel speaker emitted static crackles, then a voice: "Who calls Delta Ajax niner? Over."
"They seem pretty calm about it," Vasa said.
Holstein spoke into the microphone. "Unlisted flight---north and east of you about 3 kilometers. Wurmsign is on intercept course, your position, estimated contact 25 minutes."
Another voice rumbled from the speaker. "This is Spotter Control. Sighting confirmed. Stand by for contact fix." There was a pause, then: "Contact in 26 minutes minus. That was a sharp estimate. Who's on that unlisted flight? Over."
Vasa had his harness off and surged forward between Holstein and the Duke. "Is this the regular working frequency, Holstein?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Who'd be listening?"
"Just the work crews in this area. Cuts down interference."
Again, the speakers crackled, then: "This is Delta Ajax niner. Who gets bonus credit for that spot? Over."
Vasa glanced at the Duke.
Holstein said: "There's a bonus based on spice load for whoever gives first wurmsign warning. They want to know..."
"Tell them who had first sight of that wurm," Vasa said.
The Duke nodded.
Holstein hesitated, then lifted the microphone: "Spotter credit to the Duke Nicholas Romanov. The Duke Nicholas Romanov. Over."
The voice from the speaker was flat and partly distorted by a burst of static. "We read and thank you."
"Now, tell them to divide the bonus among themselves," Vasa ordered. "Tell them it's the Duke's wish."
Holstein took a deep breath, then: "It's the Duke's wish that you divide the bonus amongst your crew. Do you read? Over."
"Acknowledged and thank you," the speaker said.
The Duke said: "Oh, I forgot to tell you: Gustav is also very talented in public relations."
Holstein turned a puzzled frown on Vasa.
"This lets the men know their Duke is worried for their safety," Vasa said. "Word will spread. It was on an area working frequency---not likely Seppanen agents heard." He glanced out at their air cover. "And we're a strong force. It was a good risk."
The Duke banked their craft towards the sandcloud opening from the factory crawler. "What happens now?"
"There's a carryall wing somewhere close," Holstein said. "It'll come in and lift off the crawler."
"What if the carryall's wrecked? Vasa asked.
"We do lose equipment," Holstein said. "Get in close over the crawler, milord; you'll find this interesting."
The Duke scowled, busied himself with the controls as they came into turbulent air over the crawler.
Alexei looked down, saw sand still spewing out of the metal and plastic monster beneath them. It looked like a great tan and blue beetle with many wide tracks extending on arms around it. He saw a giant inverted funnel snout poked into dark sand in front of it.
"Rich spice bed by the color," Holstein said. "They'll continue working until the last minute.
The Duke fed more power to the wings, stiffened them for a steeper descent as he settled lowered in a circling glide above the crawler. A glance left and right showed his cover holding altitude and circling overhead.
Alexei studied the yellow cloud belching from the crawler's pipe vents, looked out over the desert at the approaching wurm track.
"Shouldn't we be hearing them call in the carryall?" Vasa asked.
"They usually have the wing on a different frequency," Holstein said.
"Shouldn't they have two carryalls standing by for each crawler?" the Duke asked. "There should be twenty-six men on the machine down there, not to mention the cost of their equipment."
Holstein said: "You don't have enough ex..."
He broke off as the speaker erupted with an angry voice. "Any of you see the wing? He's not answering."
A garble of noise crackled from the speaker, drowned in an abrupt override signal, then silence and the first voice: "Report by the numbers!"
"Spotter Control, here. Last I saw, the wing was pretty high and circling off northwest. I don't see him now."
"Spotter 1: negative."
"Spotter 2: negative."
"Spotter 3: negative."
Silence.
The Duke looked down. His own craft's shadow was just passing over the crawler. "Only four spotters. Correct?"
"It is so," Holstein said.
"There are five in our party," the Duke said. "Our ships are larger. We can crowd in three extra each. Their spotters ought to be able to lift off two each."
Alexei did the mental math, said: "That's three short!"
"Why don't they have two carryalls to each crawler?" barked the Duke.139Please respect copyright.PENANASXGxdmlkRO
"You don't have enough extra equipment," Holstein said.
"All the more reason we should protect what we do have!"
"Where could that carryall go?" Vasa asked.
"It could've been forced down somewhere out of sight," Holstein said.
The Duke grabbed the microphone, hesitated with a thumb poised over its switch. "How could they just lose sight of a carryall?"139Please respect copyright.PENANAdAJFfkjhTY
"They kept their attention on the ground looking for wurmsign," Holstein replied.
He reached down, punched out his own command frequency, repeated the order for this own air cover, handed the microphone back to Holstein. The Duke thumbed the switch and spoke into the microphone. "This is your Duke. We are coming down to take off Delta Ajax niner's crew. All spotters are ordered to comply. Spotters shall land on the east side. We will take the west."
Holstein returned to the working frequency and a voice blasted from the speaker: "....almost a full load of spice! We can't leave that for a damned wurm! We have almost a full load!"
"You're going, and that's an order!" the Duke barked. He slammed the microphone back into Holstein's hands, muttered: "Sorry," as Holstein shook an injured finger. He grabbed back the microphone and said: "We can always get more spice. Draw straws or decide any way you like who's to go. There are seats in our ships for all except three of you."
"How much time?" Alexei said.
"9 minutes," said Holstein.
The Duke said: "This ship has more power than the others. If we took off under jet with three-quarters wings, we could crowd in one more man."
"That sand's soft," Holstein said.
"With 4 extra men aboard on a jet takeoff, we could snap the wings, Sire," Vasa supplied.
He hauled back on the controls as the 'majigger glided in beside the crawler. The wings tipped up, braked the 'majigger to a skidding stop within twenty meters of the factory. "Not on this ship," the Duke said.
The crawler was quiet now, no sound spouting from its vents. Only a faint mechanical rumble issued from it, getting louder as the Duke opened the door.
Immediately, their nostrils were assaulted by a heavy and pungent cinnamon odor.
With a loud flapping, the spotter aircraft glided down to the sand on the other side of the crawler. The Duke's own escort swooped in to land in line with him.
"They're hoping the carryall will show up," Holstein said. "They still have a few minutes." He glanced off to the east.
All turned to look the same direction, seeing no sign of the worm, but there was a heavy, charged feeling of anxiety in the air.
The Duke took the microphone, punched for his command frequency, said: " Two of you toss out your shield generators. This is a command from your Duke! We're not leaving any men for that monster." He keyed back to the working frequency, barked: "All right, you in Delta Ajax niner! You can carry one more man that way. By the numbers. Now! Out!
A hatch popped open near the front of the factory, another at the rear, another at the top. Men came tumbling out, sliding and scrambling down to the sand. A tall man in a patched working robe was the last to emerge. He jumped down to a track and then to the sand.8964 copyright protection135PENANA0yXpzThB40 維尼
The tall man finished counting off his crew, came slogging across the sand followed by three of his companions.8964 copyright protection135PENANAtncnWJvJYT 維尼
"I hear the wurm, but I can't see it," Holstein said.
The others heard it then---an abrasive slithering, distant and growing louder.
"That's a damn sloppy way to operate," the Duke muttered.
Aircraft began flapping off the sand around them. It reminded the Duke of a time in his home planet's jungles, a sudden emergency into a clearing, and carrion birds lifting away from the carcass of a wild ox.
The spice workers slogged up to the side of the 'majigger, started climbing in behind the Duke. Vasa helped, dragging them into the rear.
"In you go, boys," he snapped. "On the double!"
Alexei, crowded into a corner by sweating men, smelled the perspiration of fear, saw that two of the men had poor neck adjustments on their stillsuits. He filed the information in his memory for future reference. His father would have to order tighter stillsuit discipline. Men tended to become sloppy if you didn't keep an eye on them.
That last man came gasping into the rear, said: "The wurm! It's almost on us! Blast off!"
The Duke slid into his seat, frowning, said: "We still have almost three minutes on the original contact estimate. Right, Holstein?" He shut his door, checked it.
"Exactly, milord," Holstein said, thinking: This duke is a cool one.
"All secure here, Sire," Vasa said.
The Duke nodded, watched the last of his escort blast off. He adjusted the igniter, glanced once more at wings and instruments, punched the jet sequence.
The blastoff pressed the Duke and Holstein deeper into their seats, compressed the people in the rear. Holstein watched the way the Duke handled the control---gently, surely. The 'majigger was fully airborne now, and the Duke studied his instruments, glanced left and right at his wings.
"She's a heavy one, Sire," Vasa said.
"This ship can tolerate it," the Duke said. "You really didn't think I'd risk this cargo, did you, Gustav?"
Vasa grinned, said: "Not one bit of it, Sire."
The Duke banked his craft in a long, easy curve, climbing over the crawler.
Alexei, crushed into a corner beside a window, stared down at the quiet machine on the sand. The wurmsign had broken off about 400 meters from the crawler. Now, there seemed to be turbulence in the sand beneath the factory.
"The wurm is now beneath the crawler," Holstein said. "Gentlemen, what you are about to see has never before been beheld by the eyes of Man."
Flecks of dust shadowed the sand surrounding the crawler now. The big machine started to tip down to the right. A gigantic sand whirlpool began forming there to the right of the crawler. It moved faster, faster! Dust and sand filled the air now for hundreds of meters around.
Then they saw it!
A wide hole emerged from the sand. Sunlight flashed glistening white spokes within it. The hole's diameter was at least twice the crawler's length, Alexei estimated. He watched as the machine slid into that opening in a billow of dust and sand. The hold pulled back.
"Ye Gods, what a monster!" muttered a man beside Alexei.
"Got all our floggin' spice!" growled another.
"Someone's going to pay for this," the Duke said. "I assure you."
By the very flatness of his father's voice, Alexei sensed the deep anger. He found that he shared it.
In the silence that followed, they heard Holstein.
"Bless the Maker and His water," Holstein murmured. "Bless the coming and going of Him. May His passage cleanse the planet. May He keep the world for His people."
"What's that you're saying?" the Duke asked.
But Holstein stayed silent.
Alexei glanced at the man crowded around him. They were staring fearfully at the back of Holstein's head. One of them whispered: "Leet."
Holstein turned, scowling. The man sank back, abashed.
Another of the rescued men began coughing---dry and rasping. Presently he gasped: "Curse this hellhole!"
The tall Dyuni who had come last out of the crawler said: "Be ye still, Ab. Ye do naught but worsen your cough." He stirred among the men until he could look through them at the back of the Duke's head. "Methinks ye be the Duke Nicholas," he said. "To thee we do give thanks for our lives. We stood ready to end it there 'till ye came along."
"Quiet man, and let the Duke fly his ship," Vasa muttered.
Alexei glanced at Vasa. He, too, had seen the tension wrinkles at the corners of his father's jaw. One walked softly when the Duke was enraged.
Nicholas began easing his 'majigger out of its great banking circle, stopped to see a new sign of movement on the sand. The wurm had withdrawn into the depths and now, near where the crawler had been, two figures could be seen moving north away from the sand depression. They seemed to glide over the surface with barely a lifting of dust to mark their presence.
"Who's that down there?" the Duke barked.
"Two Ivans who came along for the ride, Soor," said the tall Dyuni.
"Why was nothing said about them?"
"It was the chance they took, Soor," the Dyuni said.
"Milord," said Holstein, "these men understand that it serves no purpose to do anything about men trapped on the desert in wurm country."
"We'll send a ship from base for them!" snapped the Duke.
"As milord wishes," said Holstein. "But likely when the ship gets here there'll be nobody to rescue."
"We'll send a ship anyway," said the Duke.
"They were right beside when the wurm came up," Alexei said. "How'd they escape?'"
"The sides of the hole cave in and make the distances deceptive," Holstein said.
"You waste your fuel here, Sire," Vasa ventured.
"Acknowledged, Gustav."
The Duke brought his craft around towards the Barrier Wall. His escort came down from circling stations and took up positions above and on both sides.
Alexei thought about what the Dyuna man and Holstein had said. He sensed half-truths and lies. The men on the sand had glided across the surface so surely, moving in a way obviously designed to keep from luring the wurm back out of its depths.
Szganys! Alexei thought. Who else would be so sure on the sand? What else might be deleted from your worries as a matter of course---because they are in no danger? They know how to live here! They know how to outfox the wurms!
"What are Szganys doing on that crawler?" Alexei asked.
Holstein whirled.
The tall Dyuni turned his wide eyes on Alexei---blue within blue. "Who be this lad?" he asked.
Vasa moved to place himself between the man and Alexei, said: "This is Alexei Romanov, the ducal heir."
"Why says he there were Szganys on our rumbler?" the man asked.
"They fit the description," Alexei said.
Holstein snorted. "You can't tell a Szgany just by looking at them!" He looked at the Dyuni. "You! Who were those men?"139Please respect copyright.PENANAMgepr4zquU
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"Friends of one of the others," the Dyuna man said. "Just friends from a village who wanted to see the spice sands."
Holstein turned away. "Szganys!"
But he was remembering the words of the legend: "The Lekom or-Goeb shall see through all subterfuge."
"They be dead now, most likely, young Soor," the Dyuni said. "We should not speak unkindly on them."
But Alexei heard the falsehood in their voices, felt the menace that had brought Vasa instinctively into guarding position.
Alexei spoke dryly: "That's a horrible place for them to die."8964 copyright protection135PENANACA00QYFFTB 維尼
Without turning, Holstein said: "When God hath ordained a creature to die in a particular place, He causeth that creature's wants to direct him to that place."8964 copyright protection135PENANA4bxdNKhtn0 維尼
Nicholas turned a hard stare at Holstein. And Holstein, returning the stare, found himself troubled by a fact he had observed here: This Duke cared more about the men than he did the spice. He risked his own life and that of his son to save them. He passed off the loss of a spice crawler with a gesture. The threat to men's lives had him in a rage. A leader such as he would command fanatic loyalty, a hard man to defeat. 8964 copyright protection135PENANApR8XfmJLf9 維尼
Against his own will and all previous judgements, Holstein admitted to himself that he liked the Duke.8964 copyright protection135PENANAyycnbffvSc 維尼
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