Road to Dune by Frank Herbert, Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson Read Free Book Online

make him strong. Under pressure, Dorothy would yield to Jesse’s commands in this regard, or appear to do so; then, invariably, she would return to indulging the boy.
    “Oh, I hope we get there soon.” From across the aisle the kindly old family doctor fidgeted in his seat, while staring straight ahead and refusing to look out the window at the dizzying landscape sweeping past. Cullington Yueh had bristly gray hair and a salt-and-pepper mustache. “Oh, these bumps and vibrations are making me nauseated.”
    “Carthage dead ahead.” The pilot’s small voice squeaked over the speaker from the bridge. “Prepare for more turbulence as we approach the mountains.”
    “Wonderful.” Yueh turned even paler.
    Through the oval viewing window, Dorothy watched the city come into view, buildings and cleared areas interspersed among the dark crags. Such an ominous-looking place, expanded and fortified by the Hoskanners during their eighteen-year tenure. Narrow roads ran through gorges and valleys; blocky ledges held dwelling complexes and smaller habitation domes connected by paths and steep steps. Many of the largest buildings were linked by trams and tunnels to the rest of the fortress city. Though Carthage had no major spaceport, several airfields had been blasted into the rocks and then armorpaved, resulting in two main landing zones on opposite sides of the city—one larger than the other.
    The pilot circled a flat area near the headquarters mansion. The russet-and-black structures of Carthage peeked around bulwarks of rock. Winds began to buffet the craft in advance of the storm, like a squadron sent in to soften up the enemy before a larger onslaught. The craft lurched and swayed, eliciting another round of miserable groans from Dr. Yueh.
    With a resounding, rocking thump, the craft set down in a level region sealed by armorpave, surrounded by sharp cliffs. All around them, local ships and shuttles landed swiftly, eager to outrun the storm … they were like desert hawks rushing back to their nests in the high rocks. Particles of sand pelted the windows.
    “We’re home,” Jesse said. “Duneworld looks like a nice, friendly place.”

    DOROTHY HARDLY RECOGNIZED the two men who came forward as she and her party entered the central lobby of the receiving building. Dust swirled around their boots, bodysuits, and desert cloaks as they marched across the floor. But her sharp eyes identified the pair from the way they walked and interacted. Dorothy had learned the art of observing small details about people and reading their body languages: It was the only way to achieve success in a society that valued noble blood more than intelligence and wit.
    With a flourish, Gurney Halleck swung open his cape, spraying the air with loose dirt. The jongleur’s coarse face beamed impishly as soon as he saw Jesse. “About time you got here, laddie!” Beneath matted pale red hair, his forehead and stubby nose were grimy, but a patch around his mouth remained completely clean, where it had been protected by the mask.
    Esmar Tuek kept his own cape closed, and his dark eyes peered over the top edge of the facial seal. “Sorry we didn’t have time to clean up for you, My Lord, but we’ve been out in the desert. Those Hoskanner bastards left us with nothing but junk for spice-harvesting equipment! We need to get some decent machinery in here quickly. At a pretty price, I’m afraid. The Hoskanners have probably rigged the market.”
    “Our finances are stretched to the limit,” Dorothy warned. “Anticipating problems, we’ve already ordered more equipment, what little we can afford.”
    “Looks like we need to order even more,” Jesse said. “No matter how deep we have to dig into our coffers, we need the right tools for the job, or we can’t do it at all.” He smiled at her. “You’ll find a way.”
    “Somehow, I always do.” Countless times, Dorothy had set priorities for House Linkam, tightened the budget, even uncovered