They were only a few hundred meters above the writhing electrical mass now, and arcs of lightning whipped upward, even as Duncan continued to fire the lasbeam. The aircraft’s hull and wings sparked with electricity, and the cockpit’s interior seemed alive with static.
Paul recalled his father’s tale of being on a boat during an elecran storm. His men had fired lasguns at the waves beneath an elecran, flashing the water to steam and severing the elemental creature’s contact with the sea, which turned it into a harmless mist. Now Duncan was firing at the base, but the attempt had very little effect on such a large, combined creature, not generating enough steam to cut contact with the ocean.
Using a tailwind, Paul flew directly toward the top of the elecran.
“Paul, what are you doing? You’ll kill us!”
Paul didn’t reply, fixing his attention on flying. Duncan did not try to seize the controls but chose to keep firing instead. “I’m targeting the elecran’s head, the apex of energy there. It’s … the nexus of the combined elecrans. Maybe we can break them apart.”
“I have another idea,” Paul said.
Electricity lashed out in jagged bolts, and one strike rocked the flyer, sending a blast of sparks from the cockpit panel. At the last possible moment, Paul banked hard right and accelerated in a steep climb.
In its haste to reach the pesky interlopers the combined elecrans lunged toward the aircraft and pulled itself higher with such power that it detached from the water in its attempt to reach them. With the connection snapped, the elemental creature dissipated into an expanding cloud of sparkles that flashed and faded.
Heart pounding, Paul flew a circle around where the elecrans had been, and now even the ocean storm seemed a far more surmountable challenge. The elemental creatures were no more than sparking mist that spread back down to the water, where they would eventually re-coalesce.
Paul grinned. “I’ll fly us back now. We’ve had enough fun for one day.”
Duncan wiped perspiration from his forehead. “I never doubted you for a moment. I’ll never call you ‘boy’ again.”
Loyalty is at the core of my being, and honor is synonymous with the Atreides name. The only matter for debate is to whom do I pledge my loyalty?
—DUKE LETO ATREIDES, letters to his son, Paul
“Speak to me of Caladan, Duke Leto,” said Empress Aricatha. “After Shaddam and I married, he promised that I could visit many worlds in the Imperium. Should I make Caladan one of them?”
She was nimble, friendly, and when she spoke with guests, she mentioned specific details to demonstrate that she genuinely remembered each person at the reception. Leto was impressed with her.
Her question incited a brush of homesickness, and he smiled wistfully. “Everyone finds beauty in the homeworld of their heart. For me, Caladan will always be a masterpiece of waves and shore. My family’s castle is imposing, yet the most comfortable place I can imagine. It has been in the Atreides family for twenty-six generations.” He let out a soft sigh. “I like to stand out on a high balcony and watch the seacoast as the tide comes in. On a moonless night, the ocean is phosphorescent and the entire horizon glows faint green. Often my Lady Jessica joins me.” He missed her and thought of the private holo-message she had sent along with him.
Aricatha’s generous lips formed a smile. “Why, Duke Leto Atreides, you are a romantic.”
He had never thought of himself as such. “I am the Duke of Caladan,” he said, as if that were an answer.
As twilight deepened outside, lights illuminated the museum complex like awakening fireflies. In the center of his reception, Shaddam—who appeared weary of greeting so many people—made his way toward a set of wall controls that worked the citywide public address system.
The Empress saw him and turned away from Leto. “We must talk at greater length later. My husband is about to deliver a speech to be projected throughout the city. It is meant to be a grand address worthy of the history scrolls.” She moved off to be at Shaddam’s side.
Most of the crowd fell into an expectant hush, while some applauded to show their enthusiasm. Leto turned to listen.
Before the Emperor could speak, though, the entire tower plunged into blackness.
The power went out as if it had been cut by a headsman’s ax. The darkness filled with the gasp of hundreds of attendees who were startled and confused, but not yet afraid, assuming it was some kind of technical failure. A hubbub of indignant questions and complaints swished like waves against a shore.
The broad plaz windows looked out upon a black city shrouded in night, and Leto’s eyes adjusted to the darkness outside. To his surprise, not a single light shone across the entire museum complex. Shaddam’s new city looked more like an abandoned tomb than a grand memorial.
Leto was instantly alert. Though he assumed Shaddam would be the primary focus of any assassin, his mind assessed the sheer number of targets in this room, himself among them. He instinctively took a step closer to the Empress and Shaddam in the darkened reception hall. Uniformed Sardaukar also swept into position, closing in around the Emperor.
Not far away, Aricatha said in a low, firm voice, “Everything for this event was planned down to the minutest detail! I expect that my husband will find the culprits, and heads will roll.”
Shaddam bellowed, “Where are the lights?”
Fenring was there with him, grabbing his arm. “We must assume there’s danger, Sire.”
Leto remembered the suspicious man he had seen in the alley behind the Serena Butler statue. Had security been able to investigate yet?
The Emperor called, “Protectors! To me!” A temporary handlight came on, held by the colonel bashar of the Sardaukar.
Just then, a wave of shimmering, glowing figures manifested like ghosts around the room. The pale, luminescent figure of a man congealed in the air near the vitrine case that held Faykan Butler’s dagger. Four identical projections appeared at strategic points around the crowded hall. The life-sized figures manifested like white smoke. He was a young, powerful man with heavy brows and tight, dark hair like a thundercloud around his head. His expression was filled with power and energy, exactly the same on each image, repeated multiple times.
Leto recognized the watery, lambent translucency. “Holograms.” He looked around but could see little by the faint light of the images. “There must be splitters, projectors hidden around the room.”
“Who is that man?” one of the attendees grumbled. “Does anyone recognize him?”
The holographic images glowered at all of them, holding everyone’s attention without speaking. While the current of surprised conversation grew louder in the reception hall, Shaddam shouted over them all, and the Sardaukar barked orders, organizing and protecting the attendees.
Pressed against the tall windows, other guests pointed through the plaz panes to the city below. Leto now saw countless flickering white lights across the complex like an army of identical holos, appearing among the exhibits, fountains, statues, and auditoriums. Viewed from the height of the Imperial Monolith, they looked like thousands of tiny, pale candle flames, all over the city.
Then the holo-figures spoke in eerie resonant unison, drowning out the background noise. “The city grid has been neutralized. Quiet darkness has returned to Otorio, as it should be. This planet will have one more moment of peace before it is forever emblazoned in history.”