bh.houseatreides-第1部分

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CHOAM）　from　the　Spacing　Guild：
　Our　specific　charge　in　this　unofficial　mission　has　been　to　search　the　uninhabited　worlds　to　find　another　source　of　the　precious　spice　melange；　upon　which　so　much　of　the　Imperium　depends。　We　have　documented　the　journeys　of　many　of　our　Navigators　and　Steersmen；　searching　hundreds　of　planets。　To　date；　however；　we　have　had　no　success。　The　only　source　of　melange　in　the　Known　Universe　remains　the　desert　world　of　Arrakis。　The　Guild；　CHOAM；　and　all　other　dependents　must　continue　in　thrall　of　the　Harkonnen　monopoly。
　However；　the　value　of　exploring　outlying　territories　for　new　planetary　systems　and　new　resources　bears　its　own　fruit。　The　detailed　surveys　and　orbital　maps　on　the　attached　sheets　of　ridulian　crystal　will　no　doubt　be　of　mercial　import　for　CHOAM。
　Having　pleted　our　contract　to　the　specifications　upon　which　we　previously　agreed；　we　hereby　request　that　CHOAM　deposit　the　required　payment　in　our　official　Guild　Bank　headquarters　on　Junction。
　To　His　Royal　Highness；　the　Padishah　Emperor　Elrood　IX；　Ruler　of　the　Known　Universe：
　From　His　Faithful　Subject　the　Siridar　Baron　Vladimir　Harkonnen；　Planetary　Governor　of　Arrakis；　titular　head　of　House　Harkonnen　and　Overlord　of　Giedi　Prime；　Lankiveil；　and　allied　planets。
　Sire；　let　me　once　again　affirm　my　mitment　to　serving　you　faithfully　on　the　desert　planet　Arrakis。　For　seven　years　after　my　father's　death；　I　am　ashamed　to　say　that　my　inpetent　half　brother　Abulurd　has　allowed　spice　production　to　falter。　Equipment　losses　have　been　high；　while　exports　fell　to　abysmal　levels。　Given　the　dependence　of　the　Imperium　on　the　spice　melange；　this　bottleneck　could　have　had　dire　consequences。　Be　assured　that　my　family　has　taken　action　to　rectify　the　unfortunate　situation：　Abulurd　has　been　removed　from　his　duties　and　relegated　to　the　planet　of　Lankiveil。　His　noble　title　has　been　removed；　though　he　may　reclaim　a　district　governorship　one　day。
　Now　that　I　am　the　direct　overseer　of　Arrakis；　allow　me　to　give　you　my　personal　guarantee　that　I　will　use　whatever　means　necessary　　money；　dedication；　and　an　iron　hand　　to　ensure　that　melange　production　meets　or　exceeds　previous　record　levels。
　As　you　so　wisely　have　manded；　the　spice　must　flow！
　Melange　is　the　financial　crux　of　CHOAM　activities。　Without　this　spice；　Bene　Gesserit　Reverend　Mothers　could　not　perform　feats　of　observation　and　human　control；　Guild　Navigators　could　not　see　safe　pathways　across　space；　and　billions　of　Imperial　citizens　would　die　of　addictive　withdrawal。　Any　simpleton　knows　that　such　dependence　upon　a　single　modity　leads　to　abuse。　We　are　all　at　risk。
　…CHOAM　Economic　Analysis　of　Materiel　Flow　Patterns
　Lean　and　muscular；　Baron　Vladimir　Harkonnen　hunched　forward　next　to　the　ornithopter　pilot。　He　peered　with　spider…black　eyes　through　the　pitted　windowplaz；　smelling　the　ever…present　grit　and　sand。
　As　the　armored　'thopter　flew　high　overhead；　the　white　sun　of　Arrakis　dazzled　against　unrelenting　sands。　The　sweeping　vista　of　dunes　sizzling　in　the　day's　heat　made　his　retinas　burn。　The　landscape　and　sky　were　bleached　of　color。　Nothing　soothed　the　human　eye。
　Hellish　place。
　The　Baron　wished　he　could　be　back　in　the　industrialized　warmth　and　civilized　plexity　of　Giedi　Prime；　the　central　world　of　House　Harkonnen。　Even　stuck　here；　he　had　better　things　to　do　back　at　the　local　family　headquarters　in　the　city　of　Carthag；　other　diversions　to　suit　his　demanding　tastes。
　But　the　spice　harvesting　must　take　precedence。　Always。　Especially　a　huge　strike　such　as　the　one　his　spotters　had　reported。
　In　the　cramped　cockpit；　the　Baron　lounged　with　well…postured　confidence；　ignoring　the　buffet　and　sway　of　air　currents。　The　'thopter's　mechanical　wings　beat　rhythmically　like　a　wasp's。　The　dark　leather　of　his　chestpiece　fit　tightly　over　well…toned　pectorals。　In　his　mid…forties；　he　had　rakish　good　looks；　his　reddish　gold　hair　had　been　cut　and　styled　to　exacting　specifications；　enhancing　his　distinctive　widow's　peak。　The　Baron's　skin　was　smooth；　his　cheekbones　high　and　well　sculpted。　Sinewy　muscles　stood　out　along　his　neck　and　jaw；　ready　to　contort　his　face　into　a　scowl　or　a　hard　smile；　depending　on　circumstances。
　〃How　much　farther？〃　He　looked　sideways　at　the　pilot；　who　had　been　showing　signs　of　nervousness。
　〃The　site　is　in　the　deep　desert；　m'Lord　Baron。　All　indications　are　that　this　is　one　of　the　richest　concentrations　of　spice　ever　excavated。〃
　The　flying　craft　shuddered　on　thermals　as　they　passed　over　an　outcropping　of　black　lava　rock。　The　pilot　swallowed　hard；　focusing　on　the　ornithopter's　controls。
　The　Baron　relaxed　into　his　seat　and　quelled　his　impatience。　He　was　glad　the　new　hoard　was　far　from　prying　eyes；　away　from　Imperial　or　CHOAM　corporate　officials　who　might　keep　troublesome　records。　Doddering　old　Emperor　Elrood　IX　didn't　need　to　know　every　damned　thing　about　Harkonnen　spice　production　on　Arrakis。　Through　carefully　edited　reports　and　doctored　accounting　journals；　not　to　mention　bribes；　the　Baron　told　the　off…planet　overseers　only　what　he　wanted　them　to　know。
　He　swiped　a　strong　hand　across　the　sheen　of　sweat　on　his　upper　lip；　then　adjusted　the　'thopter's　environment　controls　to　make　the　cockpit　cooler；　the　air　more　moist。
　The　pilot；　unfortable　at　having　such　an　important　and　volatile　passenger　in　his　care；　nudged　the　engines　to　increase　speed。　He　checked　the　console's　map　projection　again；　studied　outlines　of　the　desert　terrain　that　spread　as　far　as　they　could　see。
　Having　examined　the　cartographic　projections　himself；　the　Baron　had　been　displeased　by　their　lack　of　detail。　How　could　anyone　expect　to　find　his　way　across　this　desert　scab　of　a　world？　How　could　a　planet　so　vital　to　the　economic　stability　of　the　Imperium　remain　basically　uncharted？　Yet　another　failing　of　his　weak　younger　demibrother；　Abulurd。
　But　Abulurd　was　gone；　and　the　Baron　was　in　charge。　Now　that　Arrakis　is　mine；　I'll　put　everything　in　order。　Upon　returning　to　Carthag；　he　would　set　people　to　work　drawing　up　new　surveys　and　maps；　if　the　damned　Fremen　didn't　kill　the　explorers　again　or　ruin　the　cartography　points。
　For　forty　years；　this　desert　world　had　been　the　quasi…fief　of　House　Harkonnen；　a　political　appointment　granted　by　the　Emperor；　with　the　blessing　of　the　mercial　powerhouse　CHOAM　　the　bine　Honnete　Ober　Advancer　Mercantiles。　Though　grim　and　unpleasant；　Arrakis　was　one　of　the　most　important　jewels　in　the　Imperial　crown　because　of　the　precious　substance　it　provided。
　However；　upon　the　death　of　the　Baron's　father；　Dmitri　Harkonnen；　the　old　Emperor　had；　through　some　mental　deficiency；　granted　the　seat　of　power　to　the　softhearted　Abulurd；　who　had　managed　to　decimate　spice　production　in　a　mere　seven　years。　Profits　plunged；　and　he　lost　control　to　smugglers　and　sabotage。　In　disgrace；　the　fool　had　been　yanked　from　his　position　and　sent　off　without　official　title　to　Lankiveil；　where　even　he　could　do　little　damage　to　the　self…sustaining　whale…fur　activities　there。
　Immediately　upon　being　granted　the　governorship；　Baron　Vladimir　Harkonnen　had　set　out　to　turn　Arrakis　around。　He　would　make　his　own　mark；　erase　the　legacy　of　mistakes　and　bad　judgment。
　In　all　the　Imperium；　Arrakis　　a　hellhole　that　some　might　consider　a　punishment　rather　than　a　reward　　was　the　only　known　source　of　the　spice　melange；　a　substance　worth　far　more　than　any　precious　metal。　Here　on　this　parched　world；　it　was　worth　even　more　than　its　weight　in　water。
　Without　spice；　efficient　space　travel　would　be　impossible。。。and　without　space　travel；　the　Imperium　itself　would　fall。　Spice　prolonged　life；　protected　health；　and　added　a　vigor　to　existence。　The　Baron；　a　moderate　user　himself；　greatly　appreciated　the　way　it　made　him　feel。　Of　course；　the　spice　melange　was　also　ferociously　addictive；　which　kept　the　price　high　。。。。
　The　armored　'thopter　flew　over　a　seared　mountain　range　that　looked　like　a　broken　jawbone　filled　with　rotted　teeth。　Up　ahead　the　Baron　could　see　a　dust　cloud　extending　like　an　anvil　into　the　sky。
　〃Those　are　the　harvesting　operations；　m'Lord　Baron。〃
　Hawklike　attack　'thopters　grew　from　black　dots　in　the　monochrome　sky　and　swooped　toward　them。　The　municator　pinged；　and　the　pilot　sent　back　an　identification　signal。　The　paid　defenders　　merc