bh.houseatreides-第69章
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cked； soon to bee the headquarters for the new masters of Ix。
Had Kailea Vernius departed with her family； fleeing the destruction？ C'tair hoped so； for her sake。 Otherwise； she would have been a target for the angry revolutionaries。 She was a beautiful young woman bred for Court functions and finery and palace intrigues； never for tooth…and…nail survival。
It made him sick to think of his beloved city； pillaged and trampled。 He remembered the crystal walkways； the stalactite buildings； the magnificent achievements of the Heighliner construction； a craft that could be whisked away like magic by the powers of a Guild Navigator。 How often had he and D'murr explored long tunnels； looked out at the massive grottoes； watched prosperity spread to all Ix's inhabitants？ Now the suboids had ruined everything。 And for what？ He doubted even they understood。
Possibly C'tair could find a passage to the surface； contact a transport ship； use stolen credits to buy a passage off of Ix and make his way to Kaitain； where he would contact his father。 Was Cammar Pilru even still the Ambassador？ Of a government in exile？ Probably not。
No； C'tair could not leave here and abandon his world to its fate。 This was Ix； his home； and he refused to run。 He did vow to survive； though。。。somehow。 He would do whatever it took。 Once the dust settled； he could wear old clothes and meekly pretend to be one of the disaffected Ixians coping with new planetary masters。 He doubted he would ever be safe； however。
Not if he intended to continue the fight。。。
In ensuing weeks； C'tair was able to sneak out of his hideout late in the programmed subterranean nights； utilizing an Ixian life…tracer to avoid Tleilaxu guards and other enemy personnel。 With disgust he watched magnificent Vernii crumble in front of his eyes。
The Grand Palais was now occupied by the ugly gnome…men； treacherous gray…skinned usurpers who had stolen an entire world under the indifferent eyes of the Imperium。 They had flooded the underground city with their furtive； robed representatives。 Ferretlike invader teams scoured the stalactite buildings in search of any nobles in hiding。 Face Dancer troops proved much more efficient than the reckless lower classes。
Far below； suboids reveled in the streets。。。but they didn't know what else to do。 Soon； they grew bored and went sullenly back to their old jobs。 Without Face Dancer instigators to tell them what to want or demand； the suboids had no organized meetings； no way to make their own decisions。 Their lives became the same again； under different masters； with tighter production quotas。 C'tair realized that the new Tleilaxu overseers would have to begin making enormous profits in order to pay the material costs of this takeover。
On the streets of the underground city； C'tair shuffled unnoticed among the defeated populace shift supervisors and families of mid…ranked workers who had survived the purges and had nowhere to go。 Dressed in drab clothes； he crossed damaged walkways into the ruined upper city and took lift tubes down to the rubble of the manufacturing centers。 He couldn't hide forever； but he couldn't be seen yet either。
C'tair refused to accept that the battle was already lost。 The Bene Tleilax had few friends among the Landsraad； and they certainly couldn't withstand a coordinated resistance。 Yet； Ix seemed to offer none。
Standing in a small； cowed group of pedestrians on a sidewalk made of interlocked tiles； he watched blond； chiseled…featured soldiers march by。 They wore gray…and…black uniforms definitely not Ixians or suboids； and certainly not Tleilaxu。 Tall and erect； the haughty soldiers carried stunners； wore black riot…control helmets； and enforced order。 A new order。 With horror； he recognized them。
The Emperor's Sardaukar！
The sight of Imperial troops assisting in the takeover made C'tair furious as he prehended greater depths to this conspiracy。。。but he masked his emotions in the crowd。 He couldn't allow anyone to notice him。 Around him； he heard the grumbling of Ixian natives despite Sardaukar enforcement； even the middle classes were none too content with their changed situation。 Earl Vernius had been a good…natured if somewhat preoccupied ruler； the Bene Tleilax； on the other hand； were religious fanatics with brutal rules。 Many of the freedoms Ixians took for granted would soon vanish under Tleilaxu government。
C'tair wished he could do something to get even with these treacherous invaders。 He vowed to make that his focus for as long as it might take。
As he crept along the gloomy； damaged streets on the grotto floor； it saddened him to see buildings blackened and crumbling from the ceiling。 The upper city had been gutted。 Two of the diamond pillars supporting the immense rock roof had been blown； and the resulting avalanches had buried entire blocks of suboid dwelling plexes。
With a muffled groan； C'tair realized that virtually all of the grand Ixian public artworks had been destroyed； including the stylized Guild Heighliner model that had graced Plaza Dome。 Even the beautiful fiber…optic sky on the rock ceiling was damaged and the projections were splotchy now。 The dour and fanatical Tleilaxu had never been known to appreciate art。 To them； it simply got in the way。
He remembered that Kailea Vernius had dabbled in painting and motile sculptures。 She had talked with C'tair about certain styles that were all the rage on Kaitain and had greedily absorbed any tourist images his father brought back from ambassadorial duties。 But now the art was gone； and so was Kailea。
Once again； C'tair felt paralyzed by his aloneness。
Slipping unnoticed into the ruins of a collapsed outbuilding in what had once been a botanical park； C'tair stopped suddenly； transfixed。 Something caught his eye； and he squinted to clear his vision。
Out of the smoldering rubble emerged the hazy image of a familiar old man； barely visible。 C'tair blinked could this be his imagination； a stuttering hologram from a diary…disk。。。or something else？ He hadn't eaten all day； and he was tense and weary to the point of collapse。 But still the image was there。 Wasn't it？
Through smoke and acrid fumes； he recognized the form of the old inventor Davee Rogo； the crippled genius who had befriended the twins and taught them his innovations。 As C'tair gasped； the apparition began to whisper in a frail； creaking voice。 Was it a ghost。。。a vision； a mad hallucination？ Eccentric Rogo seemed to be telling C'tair what to do； what technological ponents he needed； and how to put them all together。
〃Are you real？〃 C'tair whispered； stepping closer。 〃What are you telling me？〃
For some reason the blurry image of old Rogo did not respond to questions。 C'tair didn't understand； but he listened。 Wires and metal parts lay strewn at his feet where a machine had been wrecked by indiscriminate explosives。 These are ponents I need。
Bending over and scanning warily for unwanted observers； he gathered the pieces that stood out in his mind； along with other technological remnants： small bits of metal； plaz crystals； and electronic cells。 The old man had given him some kind of inspiration。
C'tair stuffed the items into his pockets and beneath his clothing。 Ix would change mightily under the new Tleilaxu rule； and any scrap of his civilization's precious past might prove valuable。 The Tleilaxu would confiscate everything if they found him。。。。
In the following days of haunted exploration； C'tair never saw the image of the old man again； never truly prehended what he had encountered； but he worked hard to add to his technological collection； his resources。 He would continue this battle。。。alone； if necessary。
Each night he passed under the noses of the enemy as they settled in for permanent occupation。 He ransacked empty portions of the upper and lower city； before rebuilding teams could clean up and remove unwanted memories。
Remembering what the vision of Rogo had whispered into his imagination； he began to construct。。。something。
WHEN THE ATREIDES rescue ships returned to Caladan and approached the spaceport fields of Cala City； the Old Duke made only minimal attempts at a grand wele。 The times and circumstances were too sombe
