Paul of Dune

hung loosely on his rail-thin body.

“You, I do not trust! I will surrender only to the honorable Gurney Halleck. I see him there among you! I demand terms. The forms must be obeyed!”

Gurney pushed his way forward. “I am Halleck, and I accept your surrender.” He turned to the Fremen. “The forms must be obeyed. Stop the bloodshed. This planet is ours, our victory already won. Go put out those fires!”

“Old Imperial rules mean nothing to us, Commander Halleck,” Enno grumbled.

“It is the will of Muad’Dib.” Let them chew on that! Gurney strode up to the gates, and Lord Colus’s guards lifted the bars to open the doorway. The Atreides veteran stepped through the looming arch, and the proud nobleman came down to greet him.

But Fremen soldiers rushed in around Gurney, and he couldn’t stop the tide. They flocked into the fortified villa, seized Galacian guards, and grabbed Lord Colus. The nobleman appeared saddened, but clung to his dignity as he was taken away.

***

BY THE FOLLOWING day, the fires had been quelled and the villagers subdued, and the Fremen soldiers had temporarily taken over whatever dwellings they desired. These determined desert warriors knew how to fight, but they did not know how to govern or rebuild.

Gurney had spent a sleepless night staring up at the rough ceiling of one of the outbuildings of the estate, considering what to do. It would be best for the people of Galacia if he led the Fremen to another battlefield as soon as possible, rather than allowing the conquerors to remain here and make things worse. This defeated world would cause no further trouble for Paul’s government. Gurney doubted they would have caused any in the first place….

Gurney emerged from his borrowed bedchamber in the dawn light only to stare in disbelief at the severed head of Lord Colus, which was planted on a post in front of the mansion. The expression on the dead nobleman’s face looked more like disappointment than fear. His eyes stared out on a world he no longer inhabited.

Appalled and revolted, yet strangely unsurprised, Gurney stepped forward with sad resignation. His muscles bunching, his fists clenching, the loyal Atreides retainer stared up at Lord Colus’s slack face. “I am sorry — this was never what I intended.” He intoned a verse from the Orange Catholic Bible, posing an age-old question: “‘Who is worse, the liar or the fool who believes him?’”

He had given his word to Lord Colus, who had trusted in the value of a promise made by Gurney Halleck. Now, Gurney’s revulsion turned toward himself. I am not a man to make excuses, certainly not for my own actions. I am in command of these soldiers. I serve Paul of House Atreides.

The Atreides considered an “honor debt” as binding as any Fremen viewed a water debt to be. His lieutenant Enno had brought dishonor to his regiment and its commander; he had made Gurney into a liar. This is my responsibility.

In previous engagements, he had seen the blind and stubborn fury of the Jihad troops. Spurning accepted codes of warfare, they charged ahead with only vague goals and a hunger for destruction. Like maddened Salusan bulls, they stampeded any perceived enemy. Paul’s most vehement supporters never stopped to think beyond rationalizing that their actions were in concert with Muad’Dib’s wishes. Trying to stop them would be like trying to stop moving dunes in a powerful sandstorm….

Gurney’s brows drew together, and his expression became terrible to behold. He refused to salve his conscience with a weak explanation that he was not, after all, expected to control fanatics.

He was the commander; they were his soldiers.

And soldiers must follow orders. Enno and the Fremen had heard his explicit orders. They could not feign confusion or pretend to have misunderstood his promise. Enno had committed mutiny. He had defied the clear instructions of his superior officer.

Not even turning to see who might be listening, Gurney roared a command in a voice that had once filled noisy halls with song. “Bring me Enno — immediately! And put him in chains!” Though he did not stop looking at the head of Lord Colus, he heard several Fremen scurry off into the growing daylight in response to his instructions.

As a leader of Fremen regiments, Gurney Halleck kept a crysknife sheathed at his waist, but he did not reach for it. Instead, he drew a different blade, a well-worn kindjal with an Atreides hawk worked into the hilt. Because this was a matter of honor, an Atreides knife would work best.

Eventually, four Fremen soldiers escorted Enno to him. As he walked along, the young man looked aloof and proud, his eyes shining with conviction. Though two soldiers held Enno’s arms, the prisoner was not shackled, as Gurney had ordered. The shades of Thufir Hawat and Duncan Idaho must be laughing at him now for letting his troops slip out of his control.

“Why is this man not in chains? Were my instructions not clear?” he shouted, and the Fremen soldiers flinched, taking offense at his tone. Two of them let their hands stray toward their own crysknives. Gurney stepped toward them, his inkvine scar darkening on his face. “I am your commanding officer! Muad’Dib gave you orders — orders on your lives, damn you! — to follow my instructions. I act in the name of Muad’Dib. Who are you to question me?”

Enno, though, was the main problem, and Gurney would deal with the other insubordination later. Pointing at the grisly trophy atop the gatepost, he demanded, “Did I not accept this man’s surrender? Did I not grant him terms?”

“You did, Commander Halleck. But —”

“There is no ‘but’ in a command! You are a subordinate officer, and you have defied my orders. Therefore you have defied the orders of Muad’Dib.”

While the Fremen onlookers muttered at this, Enno retorted with great confidence, as if he were being tested. “Muad’Dib knows he must appear to be merciful. Muad’Dib knows he must show the people that he can be lenient and loving.” His voice hardened. “But Muad’Dib’s fighters know what is truly in his heart — that those who are unbelievers must fall under the scythe of his punishment. By promising mercy to Lord Colus, Commander Halleck, you may have spoken on the Emperor’s behalf… but all soldiers of Muad’Dib understand what we must do to infidels. Colus resisted, and he ordered his people to resist. He was a dark force trying to eclipse the light of the Lisan-al-Gaib.” He looked up at the severed head on the spike and nodded with plain satisfaction. “I did what was necessary, as you well know.”

Gurney barely kept his fury in check. “What I know is that you defied me. The penalty for disobeying my orders is death. Kneel.”

Enno’s eyes flashed. He raised his chin in one more gesture of defiance. “I only did the will of Muad’Dib.”

“Kneel!” When Enno did not immediately obey, Gurney motioned to the four escort soldiers who, after the briefest hesitation, pushed down on Enno’s shoulders, forcing him to his knees. Gurney took the Atreides kindjal and assumed a fighting stance with it.

“I was doing the will of Muad’Dib,” Enno intoned, like a prayer.

“He was doing the will of Muad’Dib,” one of the soldiers said. But he and his companions stepped back, out of the way.

Before events could slip out of his control again, Gurney slashed sideways with the razor-edged knife. The blade bit deep, tearing across Enno’s throat, severing the jugular and the carotid, sawing through the windpipe.

Normally, a red spray would have sprouted from the larynx like the tail of a flamebird, but the thick blood and the rapid coagulation in the Fremen genes slowed the flow somewhat, so that crimson merely bubbled and poured out, spilling across Enno’s chest and the Galacian ground. Although the defiant man twitched and gurgled, his gaze never left Gurney’s until he collapsed.

As the Fremen soldiers stared at what he had done, Gurney felt a thousandfold increase in his own personal danger. So be it. He could not permit such a lack of discipline to go unpunished. He stood, looking for a moment at the blood on the kindjal and on his hand, then turned to the surprised and angry-looking men. One muttered, “He