Navigators of Dune

6

Kepler might have seemed to be a dull world, but Vor had cherished his quiet, sheltered home here for many years. It was exactly the kind of calm, uneventful life he had once sought. He’d been happy, a different man who had retired from his past. He had married a woman he loved and raised a large family — it was as much as anyone could want.

Now, he feared that all these people were threatened because his own past had ricocheted outward. The Harkonnens might be coming for them.

When he and young Willem Atreides arrived in the main Kepler village, Vor recalled those happy times, but he didn’t want to be remembered, or noticed. He had left this place behind, had sworn a promise that he would never return. Now, no one on Kepler could know who he was, but he would send discreet warnings about Tula Harkonnen, alerting them to keep watch for her. What if Tula came here, hoping to seduce and murder another young Atreides man, just as she had done to Orry? If they knew ahead of time, they could stop her.

Nineteen-year-old Willem, tall and black-haired like Vor, looked to be his son but was actually a distant descendant, many generations removed. For their purposes, Willem called himself Vor’s nephew. The two of them were disguised as bearded, down-on-their-luck laborers, looking for work … the better to keep their eyes open for threats to the extended Atreides family on Kepler. Neither of them would ever forget what Tula looked like.

Even though this was the first time he had ever left Caladan, Willem was dead serious about their mission to verify that Vor’s other family was safe from the Harkonnens, that Tula had not come here. For now, the two men would lie low and keep watch for any danger.

On the transport from the landing field to the village, they asked about finding work, playing their role. Vor recognized one of the local storekeepers, but the man didn’t give Vor a second glance. “Work?” The grizzled storekeeper shrugged and gestured vaguely out of town. “Check at any orchard. Pickers are always needed at this time of year to bring in the buriak crop.”

Buriak trees bore large, juicy fruit that was good to eat raw, and a smile came to Vor’s face as he remembered the taste. He and his beloved Mariella had managed a small orchard early in their marriage. “The Tulind family orchard is a few miles out of town. I hear they need a lot of laborers.”

A woman brought a jacket up to the counter for purchase, and she joined in the conversation. “The Tulinds need pickers because they run that orchard like a police state, and there was a mass defection of workers last week.”

“Doesn’t sound like a place we want to work,” Willem said.

“Let their damned fruit rot on the trees.” The woman laid the jacket on the counter, brought out her money, and counted it. “There are plenty of better operators. Good people. The Urions are fine, except for the fact that they’ll try to convert you to their obscure religion.”

“They’re Shohkers,” the shopkeeper said. “Refused to accept the Orange Catholic Bible that Emperor Jules imposed on the Imperium.”

“Or, you might try the Atreides orchard,” the woman suggested. “They’re solid, honest people, and they feed their pickers well. Worker housing is basic, but adequate. It’s walking distance, less than an hour north of town on the main road. The owners are Geoff and Nobinia Atreides.”

“I’ve heard of them,” Vor said guardedly. “Thanks, I think we’ll try there first.”

Vor had heard what he needed to know. Geoff was one of his great-grandsons, though they had barely met. If Vor and Willem could get hired there, it would be less risky than getting close to Vor’s actual sons, who might recognize him … which could put them in danger.

Before leaving, Vor displayed an image of Tula Harkonnen, blonde and beautiful, like an angel, taken on the day of her wedding. The image did not show the blood on her hands or the poison in her heart. “Have you seen this woman? A stranger coming through? She would have arrived recently.”

The shopkeeper raised his eyebrows and smiled. “No, I would have remembered her!”

“She’s a wanted murderer,” Willem said coldly. “Ruthless and dangerous. Watch out for her. We have reason to believe she might be coming to Kepler.”

Leaving the store, the two men set off on the main road. They had departed from Caladan after the horrific murder of Willem’s brother Orry. Even though Vor doubted the Harkonnens knew about this branch of his family, or that Tula would come here so soon to continue her deadly plans, he needed to make sure. Once he had satisfied himself that she wasn’t here, then he and Willem could go hunting for her.

They headed up the road in the sunny autumn day, and Vor remembered how comfortably warm it usually was at this time of year. Buriak orchards on either side of the road were heavy with fruit — red, yellow, and pink varieties. His heart ached with memories, and he longed to just stay here and disappear. But that was not possible.

Vor led the way down the long dirt driveway of the Atreides orchards, while Willem looked around at the strange sights. “This land used to be owned by my wife’s brother,” Vor said, reminding the young man of his other family. “Let’s see if we can fit in.”

He saw half a dozen pickers working the trees, with portable lifts that elevated flat boxes for the fruit. An old farmhouse and several outbuildings sat at the end of the long driveway. Vor bent to pick up a bright pink buriak that had fallen to the ground. He took a knife from his belt, cut off the bruised part, and pared off a slice, which he passed to Willem before cutting another for himself. Vor savored the half-forgotten sweetness. “This is how life should be, simple, pleasurable, without hatred and warfare. It’s not an easy thing to attain.”

Willem’s voice cracked as he spoke. “Orry and I had that on Caladan. The fishing, the rescue jobs. Life was normal there — until she came.” He plucked another fruit for himself and took out his own knife, but in his tense anger he seemed to be attacking the fruit more than peeling it.

“And now Tula might be coming here, to hunt down more of my family.” Vor sectioned the rest of the fruit and ate it, then tossed the core away before cleaning his knife with a handkerchief. “You and I won’t see much of that sort of life for some time. Enjoy it while we can — but always stay alert.” He led his “nephew” toward the farmhouse.…

The two visitors were hired with very few questions asked, and the foreman accepted their false names without any hesitation. He and Willem said they were from Alarkand, a far-off minor planet that none of these people had ever heard of. Vor had once fought a space battle near Alarkand during the Jihad, crushing a machine fleet that had concealed themselves in the asteroid field.

Geoff and Nobinia Atreides lived in a large estate house with their children, some of whom were in their late teens. Vor could see from Geoff’s rough hands and ruddy, sun-weathered complexion that he worked in the orchards himself. Vor remained alert for news about his other descendants, who were scattered farther from the main town. Everyone seemed safe, normal, and content.

As part of the picking crew, Vor and Willem each received a bed in the bunkhouse, and they began working on the next afternoon shift. All of the orchard workers were invited to dinner that evening in the estate house, where a long table was set up for everyone, including ten young children who were too small to work.

“We send our boys and girls into the orchards when they turn eight.” Geoff Atreides chuckled. He had rough creases on his face. “And the more children we have, the better, since it’s hard to get enough pickers during the harvest season.” He glanced across the table at his daughter Kauree, who was several months pregnant. “Her husband Jacque is the orchard supervisor, and he’s busy outside now. He’ll eat later.”

“I like large families,” Vor said. “Wish I had one myself.”

While Willem looked sidelong at him, Vor ate in silence, suddenly nostalgic to think of the large family that he really had, here on this very world — and another one on Caladan so long ago. But he couldn’t allow himself to be part of either of them. Too many people would be in danger.

Not long ago, his wife, Mariella, had been murdered by a pair of assassins who were searching for Vor. Those two had eventually tracked Vor down on Arrakis and killed his friend Griffin Harkonnen — after which the Harkonnens blamed Vor for the death, inflaming the blood feud that had already gone on for generations. Those assassins were gone, but other hunters had taken their place. It saddened him that there would always be hunters tracking him down.

Soon he would turn the tables, and he and Willem would track Tula down to make her face justice.…

As days passed quietly on Kepler, Vor and Willem worked in the orchards. While Vor remained at the farm most evenings, wanting to watch over his family, Willem would walk the short distance into town to visit various businesses, including an entertainment hall. He reported back to Vor that no one had seen any young woman answering to Tula’s description, but he had spread her image around so that all the people here would be on guard. Tula would not be able to slip in unnoticed.

Vor was also interested in keeping up with his family here. In his cautious research, he learned that his son Clar owned a successful restaurant and roadhouse outside of town; his other son, Oren, managed a skytruck company with offices in several cities on Kepler. Some of the children of Clar or Oren came to the orchard on occasion, including Clar’s teenage daughter, Raiga.

She had a pretty brunette friend named Opalla, and Willem flirted with her, took her out to dinner and dancing several times. Vor remembered when he had been young and aloof, with a girl in every port as he flew from planet to planet for the Army of the Jihad. Willem wasn’t serious about Opalla, and Vor knew the young man would forget her soon enough as they moved on in their hunt for Tula Harkonnen.

They decided to stay for two more weeks, until the next spacefolder arrived. Now that VenHold had suddenly withdrawn ships from commercial trade routes in a dispute with the new Emperor, there were far fewer transport options available, which greatly affected backwater planets such as Kepler. The secondary carriers were said to be less safe, but a non-VenHold ship was the only option they had. Vor wanted to see who disembarked, in case Tula Harkonnen happened to be one of the passengers, but if she wasn’t among the new arrivals, then they could go.

Staying on Kepler was a pleasant thought, but if Tula truly didn’t know about the Atreides here, then his family was safe. And that meant Vor and Willem had to search elsewhere for the treacherous, violent Harkonnen.