While Lethea recorded and the other Sister watched helplessly, the young woman hammered her forehead several more times into the sharp, protruding stone, until finally she tumbled to the floor. The front of her skull split open, and blood poured down her face.
Exhausted, Lethea slumped back onto her bed again, staring at the brightness of the ceiling, gazing into a white light. She loosened her grip on the imager, but it recorded her words as she drifted off into sleep.
“Jessica … Jessica of Caladan! You must take her away from him! Jessica.”
Is the life of a king worth more than that of a peasant or thief? Is your own life worth more than that of a person of lower station? Such valuations can be used to determine whether actions are heroic, or cowardly.
—EMPEROR FONDIL III, THE HUNTER, “Considerations for Imperial Bias”
Those in the immediate circle around Shaddam recoiled at the colonel bashar’s sharp warning. Some cried out in panic. In the dim reception room, Leto thought of all the ships on the nearby diplomatic landing field, wondered how many could evacuate the tower and how much time they had.
As if in a mocking gesture, all the power switched back on, and the full lights blinded the people. Leto ducked away, shielding his eyes. There was not a second to waste. Through the Monolith windows, lights flared on around the museum complex, flashing rainbows, swirling stars, reflective multicolored beams that celebrated Corrino greatness. He realized this was another distraction.
The Sardaukar grabbed the Emperor and forced him toward a discreet door in the back of the reception room. “Sire, you must leave. Now.” He barked a string of orders to the other Sardaukar in the room. “You as well, Count Fenring, and the Empress. Come with us.”
Indignant, Shaddam tried to pull free, but couldn’t. “This has already been enough of an insult, Colonel Bashar. I will not run away. My people cannot see me being a coward.”
The Sardaukar’s face looked deadly, as if the Emperor were no more than an unruly child. He spoke in a low, urgent voice. “These people aren’t going to survive to tell anyone, Sire. We are in the impact zone. There is an escape lighter on the roof, a small, fast ship that can take you to safety!”
Without arguing, Fenring swiftly made his way toward a sealed door at the back of the room. “We had better listen, hmmm?” Other Sardaukar cleared the way, knocking noble guests aside as if it were a part of a sports competition.
Leto’s tone was terse as he pushed forward. “There are thousands of people in this city, here by your command, Sire. We all have to evacuate.”
Empress Aricatha responded, “My husband is the most important person, but if others can escape, too…”
Leto bolted to the site-wide public address system, which was ready to broadcast Shaddam’s proud speech, now that power had been restored. He slapped the comm switch. “Attention all citizens! Evacuate the city by any means possible. Get as far away as you can.” He doubted they would be able to make it, but he had to give them at least some warning. “Impact imminent!”
Another Sardaukar activated an alarm, and warbling sirens resonated throughout the extensive complex, magenta lights flashing along the web of interconnected streets. The massive dump boxes were already hurtling down through the atmosphere. Leto had no idea how accurate the targeting was or how long it would take, but the mass of the crashing objects and the vaporization of impact would be equivalent to a small atomic.
He saw Archduke Ecaz standing with other nobles. “Armand, get as many as possible into the lifts! Go to the landing field and take any ships you can.” The most important delegates would have their fancy ships ready for liftoff. Responding to Leto’s command without hesitation, the Archduke herded people toward the lift doors.
Leto shouted into the site-wide address system again. “Evacuate! Evacuate!” His words boomed throughout the huge city and museum complex. He suddenly doubted if he could save himself, and thought of Jessica, of Paul.…
The panicked crowd pressed toward the elevators. Armand Ecaz crammed himself into one car already overloaded with nobles. He and Count Dinovo blocked others who tried to force their way in. The etched metal doors slid shut, and the elevators dropped away. Leto hoped his friend would make it in time.
The guests remained disoriented, few understanding the magnitude of the threat. Pushing toward the exit door with the Emperor, the assistant chamberlain bellowed in a loud, deep voice, “Be calm. Everything is under control!”
“And my Truthsayer?” Shaddam insisted as he, Count Fenring, and the Empress were rushed along by Sardaukar. “Make sure she is taken to the roof.”
Leto’s stomach felt like ice, and he thought of his Caladan pilot, Arko, and the bright-eyed entourage who had come with him here to Otorio, hoping to see amazing sights. The Atreides yacht would be down there … and he knew they were doomed.
As uniformed Sardaukar herded the Emperor and his companions through the exit door, others whisked old Reverend Mother Mohiam out a different door. Suddenly, an officer grabbed Leto by the arm. “This way, Atreides.” It was the same colonel bashar who had looked at Leto with odd recognition, the one who took his warning seriously. “There is room for you in the Emperor’s escape lighter.”
With an implacable grip, the Sardaukar rushed him toward the exit door and a narrow set of stairs that led from the reception gallery up to the Monolith roof. Shaddam was ahead of them, climbing swiftly, followed by the Empress and urged along by Fenring. Other attendees swirled after them to the exit door, but the Sardaukar officer knocked them out of the way, pushing Leto at a run.
Leto said, “Why are you saving me? We have to rescue all these people.”
“All will not be rescued,” said the Sardaukar. “You reported the danger and gave us fair warning. Is that not reason enough to save you?”
“No!” he replied, as if the answer were obvious. “All these nobles, everyone here—there must be some way to help them!”
“Emperor Shaddam gave orders to evacuate you if at all possible. I am following orders. The rest of these are already dead.”
Leto was whisked up the narrow, steep stairway to the rooftop platform. He had tried to help the others escape by other means, though he was sure it would be a futile gesture. There wasn’t enough time. At least Armand Ecaz had already rushed a group out of the Monolith to street level, and maybe some of the landed ships would fly away.
The Sardaukar officer pushed him. “Faster! We are running out of time.”
The Emperor’s party burst onto the open rooftop, where several small spacecraft sat ready. Shaddam and Aricatha were just ahead of him. The nearest ship had glowing interior lights, the engines already activated, a pilot preparing for liftoff. The Emperor, the Empress, and Count Fenring ran toward the lighter, scrambling into the cramped passenger compartment. Shaddam stooped and struggled to get inside, while the more nimble Fenring urged the Empress in alongside him.
Nearby, another group of evacuees rushed into a second lighter, which was also prepared to leave. Reverend Mother Mohiam looked like a startled crow in her black robes. The colonel bashar pushed Leto into the Emperor’s craft, crushing him against other passengers, then he climbed inside and sealed the hatch.