ship back there!” He jabbed a finger at an escort ’thopter directly behind him. The guards were just wrestling the shield generator out of it. “And four into that ship over there!” He pointed to the other escort that had shed its shield generator. “Three each into the others! Run, you sand dogs!”
The tall man finished counting off his crew, came slogging across the sand followed by three of his companions.
“I hear the worm, but I can’t see it,” Kynes said.
The others heard it then—an abrasive slithering, distant and growing louder.
“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 emergence 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 ’thopter, started climbing in behind the Duke. Halleck helped, dragging them into the rear.
“In you go, boys!” he snapped. “On the double!”
Paul, 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 action. His father would have to order tighter stillsuit discipline. Men tended to become sloppy if you didn’t watch such things.
The last man came gasping into the rear, said, “The worm! 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. Is that right, Kynes?” He shut his door, checked it.
“Almost exactly, my Lord,” Kynes said, and he thought: A cool one, this duke.
“All secure here, Sire,” Halleck said.
The Duke nodded, watched the last of his escort take off. He adjusted the igniter, glanced once more at wings and instruments, punched the jet sequence.
The take-off pressed the Duke and Kynes deep into their seats, compressed the people in the rear. Kynes watched the way the Duke handled the controls—gently, surely. The ’thopter was fully airborne now, and the Duke studied his instruments, glanced left and right at his wings.
“She’s very heavy, Sire,” Halleck said.
“Well within the tolerances of this ship,” the Duke said. “You didn’t really think I’d risk this cargo, did you, Gurney?”
Halleck grinned, said: “Not a bit of it, Sire.”
The Duke banked his craft in a long easy curve—climbing over the crawler.
Paul, crushed into a corner beside a window, stared down at the silent machine on the sand. The wormsign had broken off about four hundred meters from the crawler. And now, there appeared to be turbulence in the sand around the factory.
“The worm is now beneath the crawler,” Kynes said. “You are about to witness a thing few have seen.”
Flecks of dust shadowed the sand around the crawler now. The big machine began to tip down to the right. A gigantic sand whirlpool began forming there to the right of the crawler. It moved faster and faster. Sand and dust filled the air now for hundreds of meters around.
Then they saw it!
A wide hole emerged from the sand. Sunlight flashed from glistening white spokes within it. The hole’s diameter was at least twice the length of the crawler, Paul estimated. He watched as the machine slid into that opening in a billow of dust and sand. The hole pulled back.
“Gods, what a monster!” muttered a man beside Paul.
“Got all our floggin’ spice!” growled another.
“Someone is going to pay for this,” the Duke said. “I promise you that.”
By the very flatness of his father’s voice, Paul sensed the deep anger. He found that he shared it. This was criminal waste!
In the silence that followed, they heard Kynes.
“Bless the Maker and His water,” Kynes murmured. “Bless the coming and going of Him. May His passage cleanse the world. May He keep the world for His people.”
“What’s that you’re saying?” the Duke asked.
But Kynes remained silent.
Paul glanced at the men crowded around him. They were staring fearfully at the back of Kynes’ head. One of them whispered: “Liet.”
Kynes turned, scowling. The man sank back, abashed.
Another of the rescued men began coughing—dry and rasping. Presently, he gasped: “Curse this hell hole!”
The tall Dune man who had come last out of the crawler said: “Be you still, Coss. You but worsen your cough.” He stirred among the men until he could look through them at the back of the Duke’s head. “You be the Duke Leto, I warrant,” he said. “It’s to you we give thanks for our