V: The Powerless
"Wallah! Still in bed, Lady?"
Vishti settled a tray of breakfast at the table. Softened grains topped with granulated sugar and milk rested in a bowl. Alongside were small berries of purple.
The same ornate golden tea pot with matching cup, too, for my use. Its aroma, the only scent I noticed now.
I climbed up from the blankets. A deep stretch coursed my spine out of my reach. My arms moved above my head before I lowered them back to the warm depths they emerged from.
I slept so well that I hadn't heard Feyd leave.
It had been so long since that was possible.
"The na-Baron requests his lady witch today."
Numbness overtook my body. It reinstituted control over my nerves and sensation. Even my mind blanked from the complexity surrounding Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the Baron's heir and my enslaver.
My body adjusted from its nights comfort to what coldness the days brought.
I ate my breakfast in silence. The motions of my body were second nature, mindless and repetitive.
Vishti walked around the room, tidying up, until they stopped to watch me eat. I felt their eyes narrow as I popped one berry into my mouth.
"Is it not the taste, my lady?"
"It is delicious, Vishti. Thank you."
Their lips thinned the longer I ate.
"If it does not please the lady-."
"It does."
"Wallah! That face. Do you feel the joy?" They shook their head at me; their hands flew in the air above their head. It only took a minute longer to convince them to walk away.
The calm bothered my servant. They seemed unnerved by the behavior. A strange being, alike in form, but devoid of all the sensitive bits that made it similar.
The first time I encountered a monster, it unnerved me too.
The wafting steam perfumed the air with lovely tea leaves, a singular taste of nature I did not otherwise get. I reached for the cup. The dry air stole moisture when I slept. My skin was dry as I moved. When I talked, I could feel the taut, cracking motions like a burn.
The warm water soothed my thirst. I drank an entire tea pot without fill.
Arrakis was described most as hot. Sandy, perhaps.
But dry.
That was what it was most. It lacked that feeling against your skin, the fluidity of moisture.
The thick clouds of smoke in the air of the Baron's planet were black and smelled, yet they'd held enough to fill the body with satisfaction. A deep enough breath relieved the need for air.
Here, even shaded in the large palace, lacked relief.
Vishti, returned, after they grabbed a crinkly crepe paper bundle from near the door. "You have not asked for surprise."
I swallowed my mouthful. "You'll give it to me when you want."
"You are Lady. You say 'give it to me', I give it."
"I said that I can take care of myself," I pointed out.
"That's not the same."
The breakfast tray was moved away. A bundle placed in front of me instead.
My eyes looked down at the pale paper wrapped gift - presumed gift as I did not know what the surprise truly was - and summoned ideas of what might lie inside. Vishti did not seem the type to support self-murder. There was little chance it would assist me in my task of death.
Still, the thrum of a wish rippled throughout me.
A blade. Please it be a sharp dagger.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Do you not know?" Their hands gestured around the bundle in a circle. "You must open the wrappings to find it."
Rolled inside was a panel of soft luxurious chiffon. It was a soft sage green. Muted, rather than vibrant, but still gorgeous, nonetheless.
Green. Actual color!
My fingers ran along the surface absorbing the feeling. "It is beautiful."
"For you, Lady. Outside."
Outside. "In the sun?"
Vishti excitedly pulled my arms until I stood. "This is a shayla. It will protect you. That plump flesh will wither if you do not wear."
The green fabric draped around my head, down my back and just around my shoulders in a single length of fabric. It outlined my face so exactly. I looked stunned in the mirror at the face that showed – mine.
The shayla topped an ivory gown that covered my arms in long sleeves but was cut out around my middle, with my ribcage and back exposed, then blossomed out at my hips. It was slinky around my top half before it gained thickness in the lower skirts.
They rustled as I walked. An annoying sound, better than the sound of metal heels, so I was glad for the change.
Vishti gave me a final look over: oil was slathered on every piece of flesh that was exposed.
They did not say I was going out explicitly, but my preparations felt laborious for walking around this palace. They made a point to say. "No sand. No open sand. Rocks. Stay on rocks."
I had to force the thoughts of large sand worms out of my head as I walked toward the hall I was told to wait for Feyd.
He was present already. Pacing.
"About time," he growled.
"I was not told I was late," I stated.
"You're not."
Feyd marched away with the obvious intention that I follow. I did so.
He led me outside the tall walls that shaded the ground. I felt the heat of late day as it rained down upon me. The shayla I was given deflected the brunt of it that my hands and sides had to take. It was a blessing I'd been given the head covering.
I thought to offer a thank you to Vishti when I saw them next.
Feyd would have let me burn and wither.
A group of Harkonnen men stood in wait. A darkness amongst the bright yellows and browns of the planet. Black armored suits with their bulbous helmets tucked beneath their arms. They varied in shape and size, but they were all soldiers of Feyd's. The Baron's castle had many of similar fittings.
Eyes landed upon me as I neared. I felt them before I saw them.
Hunger.
A particularly large man with a scarred eye caught my attention. Captain Rurik, the brutal awful notorious right hand of Feyd. He gave a subtle nod of his head in my direction. The one big eye wandered my attire down to my shoes before it greeted its commanding officer.
It took me off guard.
The others were not blatant with their attention, but it moved in shifts through them. Eyes scoured my length. Many lingered upon my exposed midsection. Some caught my gaze with the draw of their intense stare.
I became very aware of Feyd in that moment. His eyes scoured the faces of his men while he managed to provide instruction to his captain for their mission. It was mere surveillance.
A stroll, as he called it.
"I'll take the witch," he said. "The rest of you find place."
"But na-Baron-."
"Load up!"
The men dispersed around to the winged machines: thopters as I heard them called. Ornithopter as Feyd said. The narrow bodies rivaled the vast expansion of many wings stretched from the center.
Feyd was skilled enough to fly one - apparently. He tossed me into the second pilot seat. The seat was fitted with controls and buttons of every type around it. The blare of lights, flickering of switches and sounds of the machine was overwhelming to the quiet nothingness I was accustomed to.
Of course, I was still shocked that Feyd had just picked me up behind my knees and back and swung me into the open seat.
He mounted the other side. His arm reached over and secured me inside the harness.
"We are shaded," he said as he pushed buttons. A sudden thrumming sent the air to vibration. It thrummed the heart inside my chest to a new beat. "You can take that off."
Feyd forewent his harness. He pulled the controls up to his chest, the same motion of the machine around us.
The moans of the metal did not sound right. My hands gripped the harness that was attached to the machine.
I was aware of the temperature. It was so hot. My palms sweated against the nylon harness strap.
Not sand. Not sand. Only rock, I mentally repeated.
It made sense why Vishti said the words. Feyd intended to fly to the open desert in the thopter. The worm lands.
Of all the deaths I wanted, none of them laid out there in that wasteland.
Feyd stayed focused on the flight. His hands moved to click switches and press buttons. I kept my attention between the desert and the pilot. Neither were foes I recognized any more.
Rolling hills of sand covered the ground as far as I could see. Some rocks -not many - punctured the surface as cliffs to the desert.
There in a far, very far distance, sat a line of mountains, absent white tops. Their darkness was the only reprieve to the bright light of open desert.
A lack of greenery, plant, bush or tree, made it all the more desolate. It was an expanse of nothing but heat. It was like the sun raged against this planet in a legendary grudge of cosmic proportions.
The thopter pulled higher through the sky. The landscape grew small below our feet. I watched deep brown rocks disappear to little specks amongst the sand until the squinting gave me a headache.
"That. Right there. See it?"
I startled. Feyd's line of sight stretched out in the distance. I followed it until I caught sight of the only difference. Flecks of golden shimmer fluttered in the air of the dunes. It swirled in small breaths. Each its own sparkling column, before it swiped farther, harder, away from sight. Only to have more of it stirred the next moment.
"Spice," he said.
Spice caught the light perfect. It lit a golden fire throughout the desert.
How could the Imperium be controlled by that?
My eyes pulled from the dunes. "Why are we here, na-Baron?"
Feyd kept his hands on the controls ahead of him. He looked at meters and gauges. The only glance my way when he could afford it.
"I am overtaking my brother's fief."
"Brother?"
My time in the castle did not tell of a brother. There was not another whom stood by him in ceremonies or had another place at court. Feyd-Rautha was the Baron's heir.
His sole heir.
The thopter brought them closer to the spice.
"Glossu Rabban," he answered.
"But…na-Baron is Harkonnen."
Feyd watched the skies. He moved the machine in smooth motion with the blowing wind. "My uncle changed my name. He never produced spawn. He had to take his brothers to continue his line. First my brother then I."
The Baron was a monster I liked to pretend did not exist.
Being raised by him. I shuddered at the thought of what product he'd produce.
Only, I knew what he did. It was Feyd: death incarnate.
I swallowed. "How old were you?"
"Old enough," was the only answer he allowed.
And I dared not ask more.
The desert was calm. Endless seas of sand split only by rock outcroppings of red and brown rock. They were tall cliffs in a roaming land.
Patterns of the sand changed with the breath of the wind.
Feyd-Rautha flew in silence. He kept his eyes peeled for whatever he sought. I thought he forgot my existence, after so long in complete silence, until he lifted from his seat and pulled the shayla down to my shoulders.
I cinched the chiffon shayla against myself. It was a gift. I did not receive those often. Ever.
He made a coy smirk before he returned to flying.
In a distance, an explosion of sand shot through the sky.
The radio suddenly called throughout the cab. "Worm sign."
I did not have to be a local of Arrakis to know what that meant. There were sandworms around.
A black headset hung from the wall. Feyd yanked it to his head and yelled into the mouthpiece, "Where is the nearest harvester?"
"Not for miles," answered back.
He threw the headset down. "Smugglers."
I blinked. "Smugglers?" Out in the desert? With sandworms? Why would anyone dare to go out here? "For spice?"
"Flick that switch over there. Next to the red button."
I did as I was told.
"Yes, for spice. They're here to steal our money."
Money and honor were two things the Harkonnen's cherished above all.
My stomach soured at the realization I'd be party to their pursuit of smugglers. And party of their efforts to stop the smuggling operation.
"If we do not hold control of spice, we hold no influence in the Imperium," he explained. "Without influence, we have no power. The powerful overtake the powerless. I will not be powerless."
Feyd jerked the thopter into the other direction. My body jolted against the taut harness. The column of sand continued to shoot through the sky. Over the sound of the beating wings of the thopter, a loud grumble shook the air.
My pulse throbbed in my ears. I felt overcome.
It was massive. An animal!
"Na-Baron." My hands grasped from something to fist that wasn't my own harness.
The front pilot seats had controls ahead of them; ones I knew I couldn't grip without ensuring our deaths in a fiery crash. I tried on the sides. A grip, a hand rest, anything.
The rest of the Harkonnen's flew around Feyd in a V formation. They rattled on about readings and spice level.
Then, after a short ridge, flow of the desert was split by a large machine - not as impressive as the ones I'd seen in meetings - hitting the sand below it. It moved on large tracks across the ground. The tracks of its path were strong behind it and dwindled into the dunes.
An aircraft levitated above the machine. Long hose-like extensions ran down to the outer edges of the harvester and latched in place.
Large thrusts of air went from the backend. Some of it was tainted with the spice color.
The thopters were noticed. Blasts against the front window thudded in violet colors.
It was so unexpected that I cried out. My arm reached out and grasped Feyd. My power was nothing to his. He navigated around other blasts before they hit the shields. His lips barked orders through the radio headset. Calm and collected in the face of death, he commanded his troops to attack the carry-all.
"Worm sign approaching." The radio droned.
My fingers clenched tighter against Feyd's bicep.
A worm. Could they jump? A thopter was a small piece of prey compared to a spice harvester.
Not sand. Not sand.
Fuck, the rocks were so far to run to.
More blinding shafts of color cut through the air at us. Feyd quickly maneuvered.
The carry-all was disabled. The aircraft burned in sudden orange flames with dense thick smoke.
No people emerged to fight flame or foe. Or desert. No one ran for their lives.
"Fall back," Feyd said. "Leave them for the worm."
The thopters all circled. Their guns ceased.
Chaos stopped so sudden. It was an unhealthy silence that fell. As the calm before a heavy downpour.
My heart still pounded within my ribs.
We hovered out of range of the harvester guns. There was no point in fighting. A circle grew in the sand.
Motions through the sand became like water, rippling, as the circle grew more defined until the sand was split with an open cavernous mouth. Long spines filled the hole. They cut through the metal as if it were paper.
"What the fuck!" I exclaimed.
A machine the size of a house was engulfed in fire as it slid down the worm's throat.
"That thing can't reach us, can it?"
"No," Feyd said.
I eased into my seat. My hand relaxed against his arm. I let my hand linger against the muscle, dragging it slowly as I still stared down at the ugly beast unsure if I believed it couldn't kill us too before I dropped it away.
When our flesh met, it was violent collision. A need for sex and pleasure.
Grabbing him in fear and safety, touching him at all, did not happen.
It was not said aloud, but Feyd did not like being touched.
I'd studied him a lot in my time for tell signs that I wanted to avoid, then encourage at the perfect moment. What I found was that altercations turned deadly when he was touched. The fight in the arena was staged and planned, yes, but true aggression emerged when the gladiator touched Feyd.
My mind told me to apologize, but another part warned against it; he'd see it as weakness. His weakness.
He lived for his image as a strong man. He was a strong man/monster.
Many slain bodies stood for that truth.
We let the moment go. The need to mention it did not surface.
The crew did not suffer any casualties. They flew the route they originally planned and landed back at the palace as the darkness began to take the world.
It was strange to inhabit a world during its night hours. My body still struggled to not be tired in the heavy weight of black skies.
Still, I did my best.
My chambers were not empty when I returned. Vishti was there to fetch me for 'lessons'. I asked what kind, but was given no answer other than "hurry, hurry". I was ripped from my ivory-colored gown and thrown into another outfit, less ornate and showy.
An open hall in the back of the palace was largely empty. A few tapestries hung from the walls. A mezzanine rounded the back half of the room.
At the front, as always, sat a large throne chair. It had a collection of other boasted seats near, but none as tall as that one.
A doe-eyed brown woman stepped onto the large flat floor. Her dense hair was tied back with a scarf. She wore a two-piece dress. The top covered her bust and upper rib cage while the bottom sank low on her belly with fluffy skirts.
I looked at Vishti. "She's not here to give me a makeover, is she?"
"The Lady must know this dance. It is tradition. If it is not done, bad luck over everything. We did do when Rabban came and." They flourished their hand. "You know."
My tongue fell flat. "For the last time, I am not lady to na-Baron. It is only a title used to punish me. He did not intend any traditions to be upheld. I can assure you that."
"A big ceremony will take place in a couple days," the woman said. I looked at her with pure loathing. I already sensed what I'd be asked to do, and I loathed her for posing it.
Vishti put her hand on the woman's shoulder. "Aishti will teach you well, my lady."
"Please. No. I cannot perform. Not in front of them."
Aishti bowed her head. "It is to honor the people of the city. They see your coming as a gift."
"My coming?"
Vishti shook their hands. "Na-Baron. He is good. Better than Rabban."
His brother.
I thought a moment. I did not want to disrespect the people of the city that Feyd was now in charge of. It would not reflect well on things he wished to achieve. But if I did, perhaps I wouldn't be forced to endure this title - or life - much longer.
"No. I don't think I will."
"Please, my lady," Aishti pleaded.
"Na-Baron will like this, yes? It will gives you the child."
I glared openly. "I do not want a child. I'm not that type of lady. You have to be a noble for that." My arms crossed. "Na-Baron has me as punishment. Not favor. And I will not perform a seductive dance just to appeal to him. If there is a dance that detracts his attentions, that I will consider."
I washed myself of the nonsense they asked me to do and used the free time to walk the halls of the palace to regain my thoughts.
My feet were lonely echoes. Somehow the massive place was a lonely place to be. There was few things to do, except wait for Feyd to need me to satisfy him.
That was my sole existence. A mere tool to be used as needed.
I'd thought of myself as another monster, no.
I am machine.