him kept him poised, ready to expand any opportunity.
Paul allowed himself another slit-eyed inspection of his mother’s face. She appeared unharmed. Gagged, though.
He wondered who could’ve captured her. His own captivity was plain enough—to bed with a capsule prescribed by Yueh, awaking to find himself bound to this litter. Perhaps a similar thing had befallen her. Logic said the traitor was Yueh, but he held final decision in abeyance. There was no understanding it—a Suk doctor a traitor.
The litter tipped slightly as the Harkonnen troopers maneuvered it through a doorway into starlit night. A suspensor-buoy rasped against the doorway. Then they were on sand, feet grating in it. A ’thopter wing loomed overhead, blotting the stars. The litter settled to the ground.
Paul’s eyes adjusted to the faint light. He recognized the deaf trooper as the man who opened the ’thopter door, peered inside at the green gloom illuminated by the instrument panel.
“This the ’thopter we’re supposed to use?” he asked, and turned to watch his companion’s lips.
“It’s the one the traitor said was fixed for desert work,” the other said.
Scarface nodded. “But—it’s one of them little liaison jobs. Ain’t room in there for more’n them an’ two of us.”
“Two’s enough,” said the litter-bearer, moving up close and presenting his lips for reading. “We can take care of it from here on, Kinet.”
“The Baron he told me to make sure what happened to them two,” Scarface said.
“What you so worried about?” asked another trooper from behind the litter-bearer.
“She is a Bene Gesserit witch,” the deaf one said. “They have powers.”
“Ah-h-h….” The litter-bearer made the sign of the fist at his ear. “One of them, eh? Know whatcha mean.”
The trooper behind him grunted. “She’ll be worm meat soon enough. Don’t suppose even a Bene Gesserit witch has powers over one of them big worms. Eh, Czigo?” He nudged the litter-bearer.
“Yee-up,” the litter-bearer said. He returned to the litter, took Jessica’s shoulders. “C’mon, Kinet. You can go along if you wants to make sure what happens.”
“It is nice of you to invite me, Czigo,” Scarface said.
Jessica felt herself lifted, the wing shadow spinning—stars. She was pushed into the rear of the ’thopter, her krimskell fiber bindings examined, and she was strapped down. Paul was jammed in beside her, strapped securely, and she noted his bonds were simple rope.
Scarface, the deaf one they called Kinet, took his place in front. The litter-bearer, the one they called Czigo, came around and took the other front seat.
Kinet closed his door, bent to the controls. The ’thopter took off in a wing-tucked surge, headed south over the Shield Wall. Czigo tapped his companion’s shoulder, said: “Whyn’t you turn around and keep an eye on them two?”
“Sure you know the way to go?” Kinet watched Czigo’s lips.
“I listened to the traitor same’s you.”
Kinet swiveled his seat. Jessica saw the glint of starlight on a lasgun in his hand. The ’thopter’s light-walled interior seemed to collect illumination as her eyes adjusted, but the guard’s scarred face remained dim. Jessica tested her seat belt, found it loose. She felt roughness in the strap against her left arm, realized the strap had been almost severed, would snap at a sudden jerk.
Has someone been at this ’thopter, preparing it for us? she wondered. Who? Slowly, she twisted her bound feet clear of Paul’s.
“Sure do seem a shame to waste a good-looking woman like this,” Scarface said. “You ever have any highborn types?” He turned to look at the pilot.
“Bene Gesserit ain’t all highborn,” the pilot said.
“But they all looks heighty.”
He can see me plain enough, Jessica thought. She brought her bound legs up onto the seat, curled into a sinuous ball, staring at Scarface.
“Real pretty, she is,” Kinet said. He wet his lips with his tongue. “Sure do seem a shame.” He looked at Czigo.
“You thinking what I think you’re thinking?” the pilot asked.
“Who’d be to know?” the guard asked. “Afterwards….” He shrugged. “I just never had me no highborns. Might never get a chance like this one again.”
“You lay a hand on my mother….” Paul grated. He glared at Scarface.
“Hey!” the pilot laughed. “Cub’s got a bark. Ain’t got no bite, though.”
And Jessica thought: Paul’s pitching his voice too high. It may work, though.
They flew on in silence.
These poor fools, Jessica thought, studying her guards and reviewing the Baron’s words. They’ll be killed as soon as they report success on their mission. The Baron wants no witnesses.
The ’thopter banked over the southern rim of the Shield Wall, and Jessica saw a