Road to Dune Read Free Page A

desert with his son, Barri (an eight-year-old version of Paul Atreides, without his powers). This scene echoes the escape in Dune of Lady Jessica into the desert with her son Paul. Spice Planet, like Dune, is filled with political intrigues and a ruling class of self-indulgent noblemen, so there are plenty of parallels. Above all, this earlier concept gives us an insight into the complex mind of Frank Herbert.
    Somewhere along the way, the author shelved his detailed outline for Spice Planet . Starting from scratch, with input from legendary editor John W. Campbell, Jr., he developed the concept into a much more vast and more important novel, yet one that he found nearly impossible to sell. It was rejected by more than twenty publishers before being picked up, finally, by Chilton Book Co., best known for publishing auto repair manuals.
    Ironically, if Frank had written Spice Planet according to his original plan—a science-fiction adventure novel about the same length as most paperback books published at the time—he might have had a much easier task finding an editor and a publishing house.
    Using Frank’s outline, we have written the novel Spice Planet according to the original design, providing a window into the Dune that might have been.

PART ONE

    1

Duneworld is like the Empire and life itself: Regardless of what one sees on the surface, a clever investigator can uncover deeper and deeper layers of complexity.
—DR. BRYCE HAYNES,
planetary ecologist assigned to study Duneworld

    W hen the Imperial ship arrived at Catalan’s main spaceport, the high rank and notoriety of the passenger told Jesse Linkam that the news must be important. The Emperor’s representative directed his transmission to the House Linkam “protocol office,” demanding to be met with full honors, and without delay.
    Jesse politely acknowledged, not revealing who he was or that his household had no need for a formal protocol office. He preferred not to make an issue of his rank and enjoyed spending his free time among the working class. In fact, he had spent that very afternoon fishing on Catalan’s vast and fertile sea, making a sweep for glimmerfish before an expected storm hammered the coast. When the message arrived, he’d been hauling in the sonic nets full of fish, laughing with the rough crewmen who struggled to get over their awe of the nobleman and accept him as one of their own.
    Though he was the foremost aristocrat on Catalan, Jesse Linkam didn’t mind getting his hands dirty. Tall and middleaged, he was a quiet man with hidden strengths. The gray eyes measured, weighed, and counted everything. His classic features bore a rugged cast, thanks to a once-broken nose that gave his face the look of an offbeat metronome.
    He was not soft and preoccupied with silly diversions like most of his noble peers on other worlds, who treated leadership like little more than a game of dress-up. Here on the “uncivilized” fringes of the Empire, too much real work needed to be done to bother with fashions and courtly intrigues. Jesse loved the fresh, salty air and considered sweaty clothes a better badge of honor than the finest whisper-lace from the Imperial capital world of Renaissance. How could anyone expect to rule a people well without knowing their daily toil, their joys and concerns?
    However, because of his high station, Jesse was required by law to be at the beck and call of the Grand Emperor’s envoy. Returning to his mansion, the Catalan nobleman changed his clothes and scrubbed the fish smell from his hands, while a doting servant spread a perfumed ointment on his chapped knuckles. As a last touch, Jesse pinned badges of office onto his own surcoat. He had no time for further grooming: Counselor Bauers would have to accept him as he was.
    Out in front, he joined a hastily organized groundcar entourage already waiting to depart for the spaceport. “I hope this is important,” Jesse muttered to his security chief.
    “Important to