into a rictus of ferocious effort, his lips skinned back from his teeth. The tendons in his neck stood out like cords ready to snap. He held on with one hand, as if sheer defiance could counteract the relentless pull of gravity.
Seeing the leader of the Sardaukar and knowing Garon was the son of Shaddam’s Supreme Bashar, Rhombur bounded over to the brink on his cyborg legs. He bent down, grasping the broken wall for support and reached down with his prosthetic mechanical arm. Garon merely snarled up at the proffered assistance.
“Take it!” Rhombur said. “I can pull you to safety— and then you must surrender your troops. Ix is mine.”
The Sardaukar Commander made no move to grab his hand. “I would rather die than be rescued by you. My shame would be a far worse death, and facing my father in disgrace would be greater pain than you could imagine.”
The cyborg Prince anchored himself with his legs and reached down to grab Cando Garon by the wrist, squeezing a viselike hold. He remembered losing his entire family, and his own body in flames during the skyclipper explosion. “There is no pain I cannot imagine, Commander.” He began to haul the struggling man up, despite his protestations.
But the Sardaukar used his free hand to grab at his own waist, and drew a razor-knife. “Why don’t you let yourself fall with me, and we’ll die together?” Garon smiled wickedly, then slashed with the thrumming blade. It struck sparks off of Rhombur’s mechanical wrist tendons, hitting the metallic, synthetic bone cylinders, but could not cut deeply enough.
Undaunted, Rhombur lifted the young officer close to the edge where he could be saved. Duncan rushed forward to help.
His face insane with determination, Cando Garon slashed again with the powerful cutting tool— this time cutting cleanly through Rhombur’s pulleys and support joints, severing the cyborg hand. As Rhombur reeled backward, looking at the sparking and smoking stump of his artificial arm, the Sardaukar Commander tumbled away without a scream, without so much as a whisper.
Rapidly, the remaining Atreides forces and the enthusiastic rebels secured the Grand Palais. Duncan breathed a sigh of relief, but remained wary.
After witnessing Cando Garon’s suicidal plunge, the suboids and rebels delighted in throwing captured Tleilaxu over the brink, a grim reflection of the days when the hated overlords had so ruthlessly executed alleged resistors.
Catching his breath, Duncan shook with exhaustion. The battles continued below, but he took a moment to greet his companion. “Well met, Gurney.”
The lumpy-faced man shook his head. “A rather messy meeting, if you ask me.” He swiped sweat from his brow.
Too weary and ragged to celebrate the long-awaited victory, C’tair Pilru sat on a lump of broken plastone and touched the checkerboard floor, as if trying to recapture childhood memories. “I wish my brother could be here.” Recalling the last time he had stood inside the Grand Palais, the son of a respected ambassador, he wished for the stolen years back. It had been a time of elegance and finery, of grand receptions, and of flirtations and intrigues for the hand of Kailea Vernius.
“Your father still lives,” Rhombur said. “I would be most pleased to have him restored to service as a respected Ambassador for House Vernius.” Gently, with precise control of his intact cyborg hand, he squeezed C’tair’s sagging shoulders. The Prince looked at his still-glowing stump, as if dismayed that he would have to be repaired and face rehabilitation again. But Tessia would help him. He couldn’t wait to see her once more.
Haggard but grinning, C’tair looked up. “First we must find the sky controls so that you can make an announcement and put your final mark on this day.” Breaking into the Tleilaxu-controlled palace, he had done the same thing many years before, transmitting sky-images of Rhombur’s defiant words. Now he led the way with the Prince, Duncan, and a dozen men accompanying them. Outside the control room, they discovered two Tleilaxu dead on the floor, their throats cut….
Rhombur did not know how to operate the equipment, so C’tair helped him scan his face into the system. Moments later, they projected the Prince’s giant image from the grotto ceiling. His amplified voice boomed out, “I am Prince Rhombur Vernius! I now hold the Grand Palais, my ancestral home, my rightful home. Here I intend to stay. Ixians, throw off your shackles, subdue your oppressors, take back your freedom!”
When he finished, Rhombur heard a roar of renewed cheers from below, while the battle continued