Brian Herbert - Navigators of Dune

Sitting at the table by himself, Vor froze, and his vision focused into a pinprick of searing light. Across the dance floor, Tula Harkonnen—it was unmistakably her!—slipped into a seat at a table with a young man. Vor knew the curly blonde hair, the classically beautiful face and generous lips … the hands that had killed Orry.

He’d been hunting, and now it was time to move in for the kill. He ignored the music, the lovers splashing in the pool, the dancers, the tables—all were just obstacles. He saw only his quarry. He would strike her before she could even take notice of him. Vor had fought her once before, in his lodgings on the night of Orry’s murder, so he knew what a deadly fighter she could be.

As he moved, he signaled for Willem, who was deep in conversation with Harmona. When the young man finally noticed him, he became instantly alert, and surprise flared in his eyes when he also spotted Tula. He caught up with Vor, and moving together like predators, they slid through the crowded hall toward their target.

Tula’s male friend looked up as they closed in. He gave Vor a casual glance, but did not otherwise react. With each step, Vor grew more certain that this really was the young woman who had married Orry and slit his throat as he slept.

Vor lunged forward for an initial attack—only to stagger when something struck him hard on the back of his head. He fell, trying to protect himself as he went down.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Willem rush forward to defend him, but an agile woman swept in from the crowd and struck him down, too. One of the statuesque women he had casually noticed now stood crouched in a well-practiced fighting stance, joined by her companion. The two women had moved so swiftly that they neutralized Vor and Willem, while drawing little attention from the crowd of bystanders.

The two men landed in defensive postures. At her table, Tula scrambled up, gaping in amazement at the surprise attack and her apparently unexpected protectors. Within Vor’s hearing, one of the women snapped, “We detected the threat. He’s the one you hate, isn’t he? The older one? The Atreides.” Two additional nondescript but powerful women also swept in from the crowd.

Though clearly surprised to see her guardians, Tula’s eyes went wide when she recognized Vor and Willem. The color drained from her face. “They are both Atreides,” Tula said.

As the women formed a barrier between the young Harkonnen and her two attackers, onlookers began to gather. Tula’s male friend spluttered questions that went ignored.

With no further thought or restraint, but inflamed by memories of blood-spattered Orry, Vor launched himself toward Tula. Her female guardians might be skilled fighters, but so was he. He shoved one of them aside and threw himself upon his intended victim, connecting with a blow that should have sent her sprawling, but Tula countered with a hard, pinpoint blow to his temple.

Willem yelled, “Murderer!” but the young man had far less fighting skill than Vor or any of these women. A pair of female fighters pummeled him, broke his bones, and sent him crashing to the floor. They continued to beat him.

Trying to intervene, Vor struggled to reach Tula, throwing off one of the ruthless women who held him back, but a sharp blow struck him from one side. He felt and heard his ribs cracking, just before a hard kick to his midsection brought him down.

Trying to ignore the pain, Vor got back to his feet, caring nothing for the damage done to his body. He drove two of the women away with a volley of kicks and thrusts. His victim was just out of reach.…

Tula’s expression showed more misery than fury. She seemed transfixed, was staring. Four more women melted out of the dance hall crowd. They grabbed Tula and whisked her away toward one of the exit doors.

Even though he was severely injured and on the floor bleeding, Willem managed to shove one of the guardian women back with sheer strength. He tried to get to his feet, but two more closed in on him from one side, and three from the other side. They hammered Vor with hard blows that sent him reeling. How many hidden allies did Tula have? It was a small army.

In dismay, Vor watched Willem fall again, but could do nothing to protect his young ward.

Burly guards now pushed through the crowd and crashed into the fray. A young woman shouted, “They’re killing him!” Vor saw that Harmona was the one urging her noble guards forward. Soon they were all in a full-fledged brawl, and Tula’s protectors were outnumbered.

Vor fought alongside his new allies, despite the bone-grinding and skull-cracking pain. Tula struggled as several women pulled her out the door, while her baffled male friend at the table watched in helpless confusion. One of the guardian women snapped to Tula, “We have orders to return you to Wallach IX. You will be safe there.”

“No!” she cried, but they dragged her away.

The Sisterhood … Wallach IX. Vor realized that he and Willem would never be able to get to Tula there, if she was under the protection of her powerful order.

Then one of the remaining women struck Vor a blow to the head that drove him into unconsciousness.…

After Norma tore the VenHold fleet away from certain victory, Josef stood on the Navigator deck raging against her, demanding that she return to Salusa so his warships could get back to the space battle. “We were winning! We could have broken the Emperor’s will and smashed the barbarians.” He could barely keep his voice from becoming a roar. “The victory would have stood for all time.”

But she simply contemplated in the murky spice gas of her tank, refusing to respond as she made the mental calculations and folded space to Arrakis. “Our spice bank is under attack.”

“What do you mean?” Josef was startled by this remark, because he had left substantial forces in place at the desert planet, and he couldn’t imagine any military force that could pose a meaningful threat to his spice stockpile.

Norma was powerful, capricious, incomprehensible, but Josef wanted her to be angry at the same enemies he was. How would he ever recover from this debacle now, after fleeing the battlefield? Emperor Roderick—and worse, the half-Manford—probably assumed the retreat indicated weakness or cowardice. The savages would crow that they had chased away his entire fleet just by puffing up their chests.

“My priority is Arrakis,” Norma finally answered, her voice coming to him across the speakerpatch on the tank. She sounded distant, as if she were ahead of him in space and he had not yet caught up. “We must get there in time.” As she spoke, they arrived, and the shimmers of folded space pulled away to reveal the normal universe again: a yellow sun and a cracked, waterless planet like a copper coin in space.

Josef stared down at Arrakis, and Norma peered out of her tank. “I fear our stockpile is already lost.” Her voice was bleak.

As a captain of industry, Josef was able to hold the big picture in his mind, but he could also compartmentalize his thoughts and focus on one matter at a time. His guarded spice bank held years’ worth of profits—so much melange that it could fund VenHold operations for a very long time. “That’s not possible! We neutralized the Imperials on Arrakis, and we had the best security. Who is attacking us?”

Norma fell silent.

As the ships went into orbit, Josef called to his communications chief, “Give me a full planetary scan. I want to know if there are enemy battleships and troop carriers here. Any sign of an attack?” Norma had often admitted that her prescience was unreliable. He clenched his fists. If she had pulled his entire fleet from Salusa Secundus because of a hallucination …