do if I stopped fighting. My place is here, tormenting the invaders any way I can, letting my surviving countrymen know I haven’t given up, and never will.”
“Prince Rhombur thought you might say that,” Thufir said. “We have brought many supplies for you in our combat pod: explosive wafers, weapons, even food stores. It is a start.”
C’tair felt dizzy with the possibilities. “I knew my Prince hadn’t given up on us. I have awaited his return for so long, hoping to fight side by side with him.”
“We will take our report to Duke Leto Atreides and to your Prince. Be patient.” Thufir wanted to say more, to promise something tangible. But he did not have the authority to do so.
C’tair nodded, anxious to begin anew. At last, after so many years, powerful forces might aid him in his fight.
Compassion and revenge are two sides of the same coin. Necessity dictates which way that coin falls.
— DUKE PAULUS ATREIDES
Steam rose from the lush foliage of Beakkal as the yellow-orange primary sun lifted above the horizon. The bright, white secondary star already rode high in the sky. Dayflowers opened with a gush of perfume, calling to birds and insects. Bristly primates ran through the dense canopy, and predatory vines curled out to snag unsuspecting rodents.
Atop the overgrown Senasar plateau, gigantic marble ziggurats stood tall, their corners faceted with scooped mirrors that directed sun flares like spotlights in all directions.
On this plateau, besieged Atreides and Vernius men had once fought multitudes of raiders, slaying at least ten for every defender lost, before being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. They had sacrificed themselves to the last man, only an hour before the long-awaited reinforcement troops arrived and crushed the remaining pirates.
For centuries, the Beakkali people had revered those fallen heroes, but after House Vernius had gone renegade in shame, the Prime Magistrate had ceased tending the monuments, allowing the jungle foliage to smother them. The magnificent statues became nesting places for small animals and birds. The great stone blocks began to crack and weather. And no one on Beakkal cared.
In recent days, self-erecting tents had sprouted like geometric fungi around the fringes of the memorial. Teams of workers had cut down thick underbrush, removing decades of jungle debris, scraping down to the stones and unearthing the sealed tombs. Thousands of dead soldiers lay buried in mass graves on the mesa; others were sealed in armored crypts inside the ziggurats.
Beakkali supervisors had provided excavation equipment to disassemble the jagged ziggurats block by block. Small-statured Tleilaxu scientists set up modular laboratories, eager to test the cell scrapings from any exhumed bodies, dredging through the remnants of human tissue to find viable genetic material.
The jungle smelled of mist and flowers, pungent oils from dark green plants, herbs that grew as tall as trees. Smoke from the encampments and the thick exhaust of heavy machinery curled into the air. One of the gnomish excavators wiped sweat from his brow and flailed his hand to drive away clouds of blood-sucking gnats. He looked up to watch the flame-orange primary sun rise over the canopy like an angry eye.
Suddenly the sky lit up with purple lasgun beams.
Led by Duncan Idaho, Atreides ships descended from orbit, targeting the isolated war memorial. He transmitted Duke Leto’s message even as he opened fire. The recorded speech would be heard by the Prime Magistrate in the Beakkali capital city; a separate copy had been sent by Courier to the Landsraad Council on Kaitain, all according to the strictures of warfare laid down by the Great Convention.
Leto’s iron-hard voice announced, “The Senasar War Memorial was established in honor of the service my ancestors performed for Beakkal. Now, the Bene Tleilax and the Beakkali have desecrated this place. House Atreides has no recourse but to respond appropriately. We shall not allow our fallen heroes to be defiled by cowards. Therefore, we choose to erase this monument.”
At the lead of a phalanx of warships, Duncan Idaho gave his troops permission to open fire. Lasgun beams sliced through the partially dismantled ziggurats, exposing long-sealed chambers. Tleilaxu scientists ran screaming from tents and laboratory shelters.
“In doing so, we have followed the forms precisely,” Leto’s recorded voice continued. “It is unfortunate that some casualties may be suffered, but we take solace in the knowledge that only those engaged in criminal activity will be harmed. There are no innocents in this matter.”
The Atreides fleet circled and dropped thermal bombs, then shot purple blasts of light into the conflagration. In twenty standard minutes—