Chapter Text
Finally. Feyd felt he could, breathe. Which he did. Breathe in. Breathe out. Feeling the salty air fill his lungs. It was clear, and pure. Nothing like what he ever had on Harkko or Barony. The enveloping warmth was another thing that he couldn’t get used to. Though, his other half did. He looked to his side, seeing Paul there. Wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. His discarded still suit in a pile nearby. The two laid out on the dunes. Propping themselves up with their arms. He couldn’t get enough of the blue that had covered Paul’s eyes. The gentle smile on his lovers face. The way his hair wafted and fluttered in the wind. He still had to get used to the sand. Feeling it get everywhere. Feeling it heat him in places, burn him in others. Then there was the spice. He still felt lightheaded from spice exposure. Though he was managing. Glad that he wasn’t addicted to it like Paul was. He thought Prescience would be nice, but he’d let his lover have that one.
Feyd thought it sounded strange. The crashing of the waves. He’d never heard or seen anything like it before. Hearing how the water collided with the sand. Eroding it, but also hearing the small spray of foam and the white mist it gave off. Why had he never been to one of these before? He feels he was robbed of an opportunity. Though, he could make up the time with Paul by his side now.
“I did it.” Paul says as he looks out on the ocean before them. Shimmering foamy waves crashing against the shore. That’s when he noticed it. Pauls scent. It smelled different compared to the last time. Though he figured that’s because he was smelling him through a still suit. Which was nothing compared to the pure unfiltered scent he was now giving off. There was a darkness to it. But not overwhelming. However ti did smell like spice. That's how deep it was in him now. If Feyd were being honest, he found it hypnotizing.
“Yes you did.” Feyd agrees. He didn’t think it was possible. For a moment he didn’t want to know if it was possible. But to see it in person. Now that he was on the other side. It was breathtaking. He leans himself against Pauls shoulder. Both our boys looking out onto the ocean.
In a flash Paul is sinking the blade into his neck. Blood beginning to spew out among the concrete floor of an Arrakeen throne room. He can feel the hot Arrakis air begin to smother him. He can practically taste the Spice. Feeling his lover sink his blade down to the hilt. The murderous cold look in Paul’s eyes. He can feel his heart breaking. But he can feel his cock hardening.
Feyd jolts from his slumber. Feeling the side of his neck where the blade is. Or where he thought it would be. He exhaled as he realized there was nothing there. Though, part of him did. The part that yearned for pain. To feel the ultimate in that way, from him of all people. A dream and a nightmare all in one. The pain he yearned for, but from the love he finally found. The love he lost. He turned to see that it was still pitch-black outside his dwelling. The only sound filling the room were the breaths of his harpies.
He can still hear the waves of that non-existent ocean haunting him. What could have been. What should have been. He can almost feel the salty spray on his pale skin. Feeling the heat permeate into his bones as he feels the sand between his toes. Paul by his side. The weight of his lover leaning against his shoulder. Feeling those soft brown locks of his against his baldness. The smell of him. His presence. That calm feeling on the inside that normally scared Feyd. But not now, it’s as if he found peace with it. Embraced it even. As long as Paul was by his side. He’d always serve him.
He could almost smile at the remnants of what felt like a fever dream. That pangs of what could have been. But that was soon broke by hearing one of his harpies stirring in her sleep. A small point that brought him back to reality. Crashing onto it’s shores as he scrambled for his bearings.
His bed was crowded. Feeling too crowded sometimes. All three were in attendance tonight. Warming and swirling in his otherwise col black sheets. It still wasn’t the same. It never would be. They weren’t Paul. Though they served as a decent substitute when he was in the mood. But they could never compare to the real thing.
Feyd could tell by the amount of traffic noise outside that sunrise would be soon. He groans as he gets out of bed. Bare feet colliding with the cold floors. Figuring he’d start his day early. He already had a rather long day ahead of him. The Harkkonnen heir figured he might as well get a jump on it.
While the Harkkonnen heir was starting his day on Geidi Prime, another heir had already started his day. He sits on his oversized couch. Surrounded by luxury and opulence. His living room easily the size of three small dwellings. A concentrated look on his face as he rolls up his sleeves. Dressed in a flowy black mesh shirt. Some would describe it as see-through. He wears a pair of baggy scaly black pants. He takes off his gold rings, setting them on the table. He cracks his knuckles, determination slipping on his face as he eyes the piece of coal in front of him.
He places his hands over the coal. He seems to be struggling some with whatever he’s attempting to do. He can feel it shifting underneath his palms, he takes his hands off the coal. Seeing that it’s a fully formed diamond, but only for a few seconds. It begins to revert back to its original form. His shoulders slump. He tries again. Nothing. He tries it again. Nothing. He tries it again. Nothing. He tries it one more time, working up a sweat as he does so. This time it almost seems to stick. But nothing. His attention is taken by a pair of footsteps coming closer towards him. He seems startled until he hears-
“You need to concentrate harder. Diamonds are never easy.” Redera says as he walks in the room. Advising his best and brightest. He chuckles as Jon eases. He finds it amusing his agent was on high alert in his own home. He sits down next to Jon, crossing a leg as he does so. Adjusting the long hair that framed the looks he was blessed with. Clearly more comfortable in this house than he should have been.
“Especially when solidifying the diamonds. You need to keep the pressure on them, even once you think they’ve cooled.” He takes the piece of carbon and compresses it in his own hand. In a matter of seconds, he presents a flawless diamond. Jagged in its cut, but flawless.
Jon takes the diamond out of his hand. Baffled by his masters abilities. Even after these last few years. He holds it with his fingers.
“Would this help with the opal shortage?” Jon thinks. Wondering if this skill could help him generate the mineral. He knows if he figured out a way for that, that would solve a lot of problems for him.
“I’ll tell you that, once you complete your mission.” Redera slides the large filmbook over to his student. Jon nearly rolls his eyes.
“You know I don’t want to do this.” Jon looked at Redera. A reluctant expression on his face.
“And why not? The Underworld has been rather kind to you.” He gestures towards the lavish penthouse Jon kept himself in on stormy days like this. The 10-foot ceilings. The living room so large it was the size of three small dwellings. The imported marble and onyx floors. Four stories all to himself.
He knows Jon wasn’t funding his rather lavish lifestyle off the solaris of the throne. No. His student had made sure to be truly self-sufficient. And he did a rather good job of it too. No prince would live in a dwelling this large and expansive. Not if they were this new to the throne. However, he also knew that Jon had to have been getting his solaris from somewhere else either. He paid him handsomely, but, not this handsomely.
“I already told you why-“ Jon’s irritation grows.
“But the Hierarchy needs you.” He’s getting serious with his pupil. “Once my reign is over, they’ll need someone to take over. To lead them into the future. You’ve already passed the Gauntlet. You have the power. You’re the only Lyric Coloratura we have. And your father needs this asset. He doesn’t want CHOAM to get their hands on it so they can have more leverage against your house than they’re already gathering. Who knows what they’re planning.”
“And I don’t want to lead the Hierarchy. I already have the Imperium waiting for me once my father passes over the throne.” Jon replies. He knows Redera makes a point. CHOAM has made it very clear they aren’t big fans of the new Emperor. Jon knows that any asset the Gates House can acquire will be another step towards solidifying themselves.
“Think of how powerful you’ll be.” He gets close to his brightest pupil. Trying to make his student see the true potential of his position. “The Imperium in one hand, and the Underworld in the other. You’d be unstoppable.”
“And I’d be burdened beyond belief.” Jon replies. Nearly matching his masters intensity. Standing firm in what he believes. “I’d have such a large target on my back. I’d never see a moment of peace. I see how stressed father’s been since we ascended. Between the Houses Minor, CHOAM, trying to rebuild what wasn’t destroyed in the Holy War. I see how stressed you always are. And you think I want all of that? To decide if we go to war while also being responsible for sending young mages to their deaths?” Jon feels he’s made his point.
Redera thinks for a moment. Realizing that pressing Jon on the matter won’t win him over. In fact he can tell it’s already driving him further away. He watches as Jon sifts through the briefing materials. Looking at information presented to him. it was an important mission. Not the most important he’s assigned the crowned prince. But, still important nonetheless.
“Fine.” He shrugs “I’ll let you think on it. In the meantime, enjoy your mission.”
Jon doesn’t say anything as Redera makes his exit. Instead, he waits until he’s gone. Watching as his master disappears into a grey swirling cloud. So that’s how he got in unnoticed. Jon would have to learn that one day, soon. He waits until after the cloud is gone to start the Filmbook. Remaining quiet as he takes in all the information. Nothing about this mission makes sense. Nothing said what item 4332 was. Or why it was so valuable. But it must’ve been extremely valuable if Redera was offering him this much to do it. he wonders who put in the order for this. he doesn’t recall his father speaking of it in the past.
“Geidi Prime? In two days?” Jon thinks out loud. He knew that he couldn’t reply on a heighliner to get him there. No. That would raise too many questions. Prince of the Impreium going to Geidi Prime by himself. A disguise onto the ship wouldn’t work either. CHOAMS checks were too thorough after the war. He figured it was time for the Rogue Shadow. But that was risky as well. If he were caught with that, he’d surely be jailed. Or the ship stripped for parts, and then he’d be jailed. Either way it wouldn’t look good for him. But he saw no other way. Getting there and back within two days? For a moment he wondered why he hadn’t left the Hierarchy altogether. He had enough solaris to ride off into the sunset. He had music, the throne. Plenty of other things to fill his time – and bank account - with.
He would need to see if the ship even had enough of the fuel it required. Or if the converter wasn’t busted from the last time he’d used it. He knows he hasn’t had much time to make the fuel for his special ship either. So, his reserves were probably low. He was still more worried about CHOAM somehow getting wind of the ship. A ship that didn’t rely on spice for fuel? Jon feels this could get him killed if anyone found out. He knows the ramifications of this could shatter the Imperium to its core. Spice was the lifeblood of the Imperium. Something in his gut told him that he’d need to be extra careful on this assignment.
He hadn’t seen much of the Harkkonnen’s since they’d ascended the throne. He’d seen the Baron once or twice, but that was about it. He found it odd. How everyone including the Houses Minor had witnessed their family ascending the throne, yet the Baron had made himself scarce. From what Jon heard, that wasn’t like him. No matter, it wasn’t going to stop him.
“Let’s go to work then.” Jon gets up from the couch. Closing the filmbook. Taking it with him as he walked the grand staircase to what he deemed his library.
AT THE HARKKONNEN MILITARY SATELLITE
It sounded like a war zone. The cries and screams of men, armored bodies hitting the ground, the sounds of blades and bullets crossing in the confusion of it all. The Harkkonnen soldiers had their work cut out for them. Well, what was left of them. Their oversized bodies were dropping left right and center. The hallway lights flashing red as the entire instillation was going into lock down. All of the windows were being closed by metal barriers. All of the hangars were being closed. They tried to open fire on their target. A black mechanical looking suit that had somehow avoided all their fire. But not without taking some damage. However, it was still fully operational.
“He took item 4332.” One solider says into his wrist-com. “The assailant may be headed your w-“ before he could finish the man was taken out. The sound of a wet splash rang through the device. Followed by a scream. And then a sizzling sound as his body hit the floor. What could be heard next – before his button fell off the device – were a set of hard metallic footsteps. Creating a light rapid clang clang clang clang against the metal floors of this instillation. Fading into nothingness.
The bald-headed man on the other line could only growl. A look of anger coming across his face. But another look of excitement lit up his eyes. He wanted to see this enemy. Get his hands on whoever is behind this. He wanted to rip the balls off this bastard and feed them to his harpies. Watch as the life drained from this insects’ eyes. Feyd breathed in as he reached for his knife. He stood by the hangar entrance. This was the last entrance that hadn’t been shut down. Feyd had all of his men ready. He just knew they’d be coming this way. He looked down the hallway that was now filled with what looked like red smoke. Steadying himself in anticipation. Ready himself for the sweet moment of violence. For the warm chaotic feeling he could only get in times of battle. Times of violence. Times of sex. The last two usually were the same thing to him. But that made it all the more, valuable. Sweeter. Thirst quenching.
It took longer than expected. But he heard the metal footsteps coming his way. clang clang clang clang clang clang clang clang. The pace of it let him know just how quick this new enemy was moving. It was far faster than anyone on Harkko would have been able to move in such a heavy suit. The footsteps also sounded lighter than most suits like this. They didn’t sound as dense. Which meant that whoever this was wasn’t a heavy person. No. Feyd guessed their body would be lithe and agile. Nimble. He could feel his cock jump as he finished the thought of sinking a blade through their armor. The updated visualization of this enemy making him almost salivate.
He yelled something in their native tongue. A short hiss of a word. But all the soldiers following him understood it loud and clear. They got into a formation rather quickly. The enemy getting closer and closer. Their visage still obscured by the wall of haze that stood in front of them. But he could see it, mainly at first. Two blueish white lights coming from the black helmet. They were dim at first, but then they got brighter and brighter, clearer and clearer. What came next he didn’t expect.
Two concentrated blue lines coming towards them. Warping the mist as they did. Missing him by mere inches thanks to his near catlike reflexes. The hot bursts of energy hitting one of the men behind him. Not just hitting, bursting upon impact as they began to dissolve through his armor, then his chest, then his muscles, then anything else he had. The hot stench of skin mixing with armor began to fill the corridor. Two more came. Feyd growled as he readied his stance. Then he heard a high-pitched clink and saw a small cylindrical device go flying through the air.
Feyd jumped for cover before it was too late. Barreling into the hangar as the device detonated. Wiping out all the soldiers in one clean explosion. His gaze intensified on the approaching suit as parts of his men blew past him. An arm here. A hand there. A foot there. A head all the way over there. It was all so bloody. Pieces of their armor wet with their blood scattered everywhere. He picked up a gun he found. Or rather, pried it from the hands of a headless corpse. He then took aim at the mech suit. Squeezing the trigger at the mech-suit. The sound of projectile gun-fire filling everyone ears as Feyd let loose behind the trigger. The muzzle flash providing another source of light.
He could only watch as he dodged the first wave of rounds from the semi-automatic weapon. Using the body of one of his men as a shield at first, but dropping it once he deemed it too heavy. The warbling sound of the protection barrier filling the air as the quick rounds weren’t permitted access through the shield. The shield on that suit was better than he expected. Which meant it was of superior build quality. Soon Feyd ran out of bullets. He tossed the weapon aside.
He couldn’t identify anything on the armor. Well, the parts that weren’t covered in sut, blood, bullet scratches and ash. But nothing about it looked special. Nothing that could identify it back to an owner if any kind. It actually looked rather, normal. Standard issue armor. Except Feyd knew this suit was no standard issue suit. Not if they had made it this far.
With a single lunge, the two forces collided. Two worlds collided. Both of them hitting the ground from their airborne collision. Hitting the ground hard. The metal from both armors scraping against the floor as they began their struggle.
Feyd letting out an animalistic “RRRRRRAAAAAAA” as they locked arms. As he finally got his hands on this suit, it was, shorter than he expected. He expected something his height. But no. This mech suit couldn’t have been but five feet eight inches tall. Feyd felt he had an advantage. With both hands, he grabbed onto the suit, lifted the man up and slammed him in the ground. He came down hard as he hit the helmet with the butt of the gun. Attempting to crack the vizor. But it was of no use. It remained intact. Feyd put both hands on the helmet, attempting to rip it off so he couldn’t this cowards face. Why wouldn’t he show his face hm?
“Let’s get a good look at you.” Feyd growled as he struggled against this things arms. Nearly drooling as the metallic hands began fighting him with a strength he didn’t expect. This person may be short but they were stronger than they looked. He laughed as the hands made it to his neck. Feeling the grip tighten ever so slowly as he straddled the mechanical man. His manhood beginning to throb as the suit scratched and struggled for his neck. Some of his saliva dripping onto the visor. He was enjoying this more than he should have.
Right as he was about to secure his grip on the helmet, the hit came. The man head butted him with the metal helmet. Sending Feyd reeling for a moment. Blood coming from his nose, which was surely broken. His world spinning as new pain centered in the middle of his face. New pleasure centered in the middle of his face. That ever so familiar smell hitting his senses, creating a frenzied numb high. The blood beginning to run down his upper lip. He stumbled backward.
But that’s all the mech-suit needed. As Feyd was sent reeling, he took this time to get off the floor. Erecting himself. Using this new opening to even the score. Within seconds small, tiny spikes appeared on the end of his knuckles as he balled up his left first. He proceeded to punch Feyd right in the stomach. His metal hands colliding with the Harkkonnen’s armor. To him, it felt more like plastic. Which is something he didn’t expect. He thought the Harkkonnen’s would have far better armor than this. After three punches it had already broken. Leaving this bald-headed man vulnerable. Which is exactly what he needed. He took this chance to disable his enemy.
The bald-headed man groaned as he landed punch after punch. Landing the hits with one hand, and securing him with the other. The first real hit knocked the wind out of him. The second hit, there was blood for sure. The third hit – or the sixth depending on who you’re asking – surely broke a rib or two. He could feel this bald-headed man reaching for something on his back, so he pushed him to the ground before he had the chance to do whatever he was doing back there.
The suit would have kept doing more damage, however more Harkkonnen men had come from the corridor. Nearly opening fire as they saw the suit had brought Feyd to his knees. Face bloodied. Arms black and blue. Armor shattered. Blood leaking through. Yet still, Feyd didn’t look phased. In fact, he looked invigorated. Excited despite his weakened state. The suit threw him to the side. His body falling over like a rag doll as he tried to hang onto his assailant.
He watched as the suit opened fire on all the men that were there. His blue lasers doing their absolute worst. Cutting through the men with no issue. The carnage was unlike anything he’d seen before. Whoever was in this suit was a truly worthy advisary. Tossing out another cylindrical device as it exploded. Wiping out another set of his men. Then he watched as he took out another cylindrical device. This time pressing a big red button on the top. The instillation shook, sparked, and rattled violently as a series of explosions were set elsewhere. Sending everyone who was standing to their knees. Then the real alarms were set into motion.
A look of pure rage crept up on Feyd’s face. Realizing he had been bested in more ways than he expected. Grabbing a gun and following the man as he ran out onto a long platform. This puzzled him. There was nowhere to go. No ship waiting for him at the end of that platform. Just the desolate moon that was below.
The suit continued it’s run towards the end of the platform. But the sound of others followed. The thin metal platform bounced due to the number of men that were in pursuit. Something the person inside didn’t expect. He could hear a whiiirrrr fly past the helmet. Or rather, feel the bullet graze his helmet. He could hear the vibration of their footsteps as they followed him onto this metal thing they called a platform. Feyd watched as they followed, his balance still unsteady, otherwise he would have chased after him.
What he didn’t expect was to see the mech suit jump off the platform into the air. Now that was something that intrigued him. He was wondering if it would. If it could. That would spell certain death. It was at least a 10 mile drop into harsh ground. Once on the surface of the moon there was nothing there. Nothing hospitable to life at least. But to see it do the unthinkable. That’s what drew Feyd out as far as he could go. A soldier keeping a hand on his leader as they both watched. Eating up every second of whoever this new opponent was. Each move was more unhinged than the last and Feyd was eating up every second of it. He felt a mix of inspiration and rage. Inspired by this new enemy. Their thought process. Their devotion to their assignment. How they were able to think outside the box. But he was enraged. How dare he! He hated when a kill got away.
“You fought well.” Feyd said under his breath as he balanced himself.
The mech suit felt weightless for the first few seconds. As if they were floating. The person inside just breathing. But, was quickly reminded about reality as bullets grazed the suit. Then their downward descent started. The weightlessness quickly being replaced by the rapid onset of wind. What caught the agent off guard was hearing that Harkkonnen men had followed their lead. They too had jumped off the ledge. This somewhat, startled them. Seeing they were that devoted to what it was they stole. The item in question must be important then. If they were jumped to their deaths to try and secure it. The mech suit uttered something. And suddenly a portal opened up. Nothing too large. Just large enough for them to go through. But, they had to make it through. They had to stick the landing. Missing their gateway would be certain death.
So they maneuvered. Quickly. Leaning to the left so they could align. Then putting their hands and legs together to get more acceleration as they came closer and closer. Which it did. They went into the portal headfirst. Upon their entrance it closed. Quickly. Closing right before a single solider could get through. Before a single solider could be tracked.
Feyd let out a groan as he watched the portal consume the enemy. Each second of this battle left him clueless and blindsided. But he was sure to be taking notes. After all, he knew he’d have to report this to his uncle. Feyd left the platform. Limping away with a growl. He didn’t like to be beaten in battle. Not one bit.
What only added to his frustration was seeing all the men that were lost to what just happened. They couldn’t afford to lose more soldiers, not after the Holy War. On one hand he could only congratulate this unknown enemy in a job well done. It truly was. They not only bested all his men, but they basted him in hand-to-hand combat. Then rendered this entire facility useless. The instillation shook again as more sirens blared through the hallways. They’d need to get off before the entire place went down, which it was sure to do. Indeed, Feyd Rautha would have much to report to his uncle, if they made it out of the instillation in time.
He knew his uncle would be less than pleased at this. Especially given how bleak their new financial reports have been looking. Now to hear that one of their most expensive military assets had been stolen. Before they even had the chance to use it? This was a highly classified asset, and now it’s gone. Which means that somewhere among their ranks, there was a rat. Feyd felt pressure to find out who it was before even reporting to the Baron. He knows his uncle won’t settle for uncertainty when discussing matters like this. He only wanted hard answers. Right now, Feyd didn’t have any of those.
5 Stressful Minutes Later
Things were quiet on the ship. Almost too quiet since the owner had left. The hangar had been left empty. Spotless. The Assoluto inside was in pristine condition. The vehicle had been freshly cleaned. The interior cleaned. A limited-edition piece. In a custom ruby color along with a slew of other add-ons that raised the value of the car unnecessarily.
“Aaaaaahhhh SHiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!!” He screams as he falls through the other side of the portal.
Trying to soften his landing as he does a tuck and roll from the portal. The suit creating a series of scratches and a trail of black paint skids as he collided with the ground. He collided with a rolling desk of tools. Knocking that over with a series of hard clanks and clinks as everything goes everywhere. Jon tries to extend a hand as he reaches out for anything to grab onto, but nothing. He still goes sliding at top speed. Hs was sure he’d go through a wall. He knocks over something else as he continues rumbling. The hangar was much larger than he remembered it to be. Whatever he knocks over shatters to the ground. Sounding like three panes of glass being broken. A few other things hung up on the wall fall due to the sheer vibration of it all. They too shatter and break upon impact. Suddenly he hits the wall with a hard dense thud.
“Damn!” He says as he catches his breath. Groaning as he sits upright. He looks to his side as he narrowly misses the vehicle. Colliding with that would have certainly ruined it. He sounded like a car cashing happening upon his rather abrupt landing. He notices his left arm stuck in something.
“Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me.” He says through gritted teeth as he takes his left hand from the smashed headlight of the Assoluto. He shakes the glass off as he inspects the damage to his vehicle. Displeased to say the least. That was a $5,000 solari custom headlight. Ruined. He looks at the mid-engine vehicle, noticing no other damage, thankfully.
He catches his breath as he takes the helmet off. Huffing and puffing as he closes his eyes. letting his head rest against the wall.
“Shit”. He says as takes off the helmet. Noticing the damage that the grazed bullet has done to it. He catches his breath as he sits up against the wall. He looks at the rest of his damaged mech suit. Bullets grazings here. Blood here. Ash here. Scratches and dents everywhere else. These were deep too. Whatever the hell this substance was over there. He’d need to turn it into forensics so they could collect everything from the Harkkonnen military satellite. They were, after all, a highly secretive house. So, all the ‘data’ his suit had collected was highly valuable information. But that information had nearly destroyed his suit and almost him in the process. He wondered how it even held up.
Whoever that bald man was, was vicious! Unrelenting. Even after being gut punched like that, he didn’t give up. He hadn’t seen a fighter like that in ages. To make matters worse, they were all like that. Half those soldiers had to be genetically engineered. It would be the only explanation of their oversized pale bodies. What startled him was how the man seemed to, enjoy it. Why the hell was he laughing? Drooling? The way he spoke? It was, unsettling to say the least. He’s never seen anyone enjoy a battle like that. As if he were getting a kick out of what he was doing. He was just trying to make it out alive, and this guy is over here about to climax off this shit. He’s have to make a note too
But he also felt irritation. How come now one told him this guy was on the loose. Not just on the loose, but their commander. Whoever he was, he was high ranking. Highly skilled too. He wonders why he didn’t use his powers on him. He used it on the men on level 12. Why not him? He guesses that would’ve caused an even bigger mess than he already made. Something he will hear about once Master Red sees the HoloTape from his suit. This was going to be a long day. He just knew it.
“That was cutting it close.” He says to himself as he looks around, assessing what other damage he’d done to his ship's hangar. He then opens up a small hatch on his leg, checking to see that a large black card was still there. It was seven inches long and six inches wide. He takes it out, checking to make sure that it wasn’t damaged. He nods seeing that his payload was still intact. He puts it back in the leg of his suit as he picks himself up. He gets up with a groan. He’s gonna feel more of that in the morning. He was shaky on his feet. The adrenalin still pumping through his system. He clears his throat. Seeing a crusted-up substance on the helmet. That’s when he remembers the guy drooling on him. Out of all the missions he’d had, he’d never been drooled on before. He guessed there was a first for everything.
He limps to the cockpit. You don’t get thrown to the ground, drooled on, shot at, jumping off a ledge - he guessed someone tried to stab him too - without acquiring a limp. Catching his breath. Pressing a few things on the holographic screen in front of him. Charting his course to the rendezvous point.
“Nine minutes, 27 seconds.” He says as he looks one of the many dials on the dashboard. Seeing that he was somewhat ahead of schedule, which he was glad about. He presses a few more buttons.
The blue sub-light engines quietly hum to life. Creating a blue arc on the back of the black ship. The landing gear dis-engages as the ship quietly moves out from the aestroid belt. Feeling weightless for a few seconds as the ship orients itself. He knew he had to be quick if this were going to work. They might pick up on a signal, even if it was this far out from their system. He checked his fuel levels. He didn’t have the time or fuel for a hyperspace trip back. That was 48 hours he just didn’t have. He inputs coordinates from one location to another. He'll need to take a risk.
He flipped a few buttons as he made it out into open space. He looked at a holographic prompt on his ship's dashboard. Requesting his DNA signature to activate a particular feature on the ship. It was highly risky what he was about to do. But he had to do it, that’s if he didn’t want to get caught and put into a Harkkonnen gulag. Or worse. Who knows what then do to prisoners in that wasteland they call a planet. He’s been taking risks this whole mission, why stop now? He puts 4 fingers into 4 slots. Their orange color pulsing into a faint green one upon approval.
“Here we go.” He says as he pulls a lever all the way down then presses a big red button. The ships engines going from blue to black. The lights on the ship pulse and stutter as the fuel source shifts over from one form to another. One of the converters kicking into high gear. A faint pink beam of light coming from underneath the ship. The ship shaking as it shoots out in front of it, steadying itself. At first nothing happens, but then a swirling black ball of energy begins to form. Rapidly increasing in size. Ballooning to twice the size of the ship. He presses a few more buttons as he carefully pilots the ship into this black mass of energy. He felt a tension in the air as he entered slip space. The last thing he wanted was for a Harkkonnen ship to pop up out of nowhere and follow him through. That would spell disaster. For all parties involved.
The black mass of energy begins to collapse in on itself as the Rogue Shadow makes it way through. Disappearing into nothingness. As if it were – or the pilot were never there. That’s just the way he wanted it to be. He hoped it wouldn’t show up on their radar. But if it did, it’s not like they could track him through slip-space, right?
A couple of weeks had gone by. Jon made himself rather apparent around the palace grounds during this time. He always did after missions. He figured it would be better to be here than anywhere else. Surrounded by Sardakkur. Vanguard Zealots. The Emperor. People who could vouch for his whereabouts. Or protect him should things ever get that dicey. He argued there was no better alibi than the shroud of royalty.
He took his black shimmery jacket off as he lit his gold smoking object. Eyes rolling back into his head as he feels the effects on his voice. The wya his voice tingled from the herbs. The healing sensation sinking in. That sense of relief in his throat. The clogged atmosphere of Geidi Prime had done a number on his voice in such a short time. He didn't know an atmosphere could be so acidic to the voice. He figured it would heal with time. If it didn't, he would simply pester Redera about healing him.
He’d been spending his time in the south gardens. One of his new favorite places in the Imperium. There was something comforting about it. All types of vibrant plants that they had imported in. Or, ones that were genetically engineered since they were wiped off the face of the galaxy. The Holy War cleaned out a lot more than just human life. But, here it was all restored. A sprawling display of greenery. Neatly arranged. Evergreen hedges that resembled mythical creatures. In the center of the gardens was a large fountain. In the center of the fountain was a gleaming bronzed statue of the Gates family crest. The smell alone was soothing to Jon. The way all the scents from the flowers mixed and mingled on his senses. But there were also the wildlife they stocked the garden with. Tiny vibrant looking birdlike creatures that zipped and zoomed from plant to plant. Feeding on the sweet nectar. Or the winged insects that fluttered here and there. It was all a luxury rare. Some species being a casualty of the Holy War.
He figured he'd record his new HoloRecord here. Part of his father pushing him to rebuild what culture was lost in the Holy War. They needed new songs to sing, and he figured his son would be a great way to sway the Imperium in their favor from a cultural standpoint. He saw how the Imperium reacted to his sons song Get Me Right. It wasn’t the music a prince would sing. But he saw how they embraced it’s feel-good nature after a devastating war. So, Jon found himself recording again. His make-shift recording set-up ready to go. He figured making a new HoloRecord would take his mind off things anyway. He sat on a stool. With a few of the rectangular boxes in a rack-mount in front of him. Each one plugged into a vertical console next to that. Blinking with faders and buttons with a pool of cords and cables on the ground. His liquid cooled microphone attached to one of them. The small tank on the back of the device bubbling as Jon readies himself.
Jon kept his Scalre headphones ($250 Solaris) to one ear as he closed his eyes. Finally making it to the end of the song. Gracing the gardens with a clear crystalline-like falsetto. Long legato lines. Ethereal as he blooms on a. G5. Jon ascends up to a C#6 in his head voice. Thinning out his voice as he does so. Sustaining the note as a faint vibrato began to make itself apparent. Sounding more like a siren luring in anyone who could listen. Which it did. The palace staff always tried to sneak around while he was recording to get a glimpse of the princes voice. Today was no exception. A gaggle of them huddling around a corner as they listened in amazement at his upper range. Proving that even in it's reduced state, his voice was other-worldly. He goes for another note, but stops as he notices something in the sky.
“Oh fuck.” Jon says as he looks at the ships in atmosphere.
____________
Jon and Redera walked outside the northern entrance of the palace as the saw more Harkkonnen ships come into the atmosphere. A gaggle of them descending on the palace. Tearing through the overcast skies of the day as they made their presence apparent. Both of them felt their stomachs dropping.
“Wha-what the hell is that? Were those always there?” Jon asked in disbelief as he looked up to the organically shaped ships. The wind picking up speed.
“Geidi Prime ships.” Redera says. His mind spinning on why they were here. They weren’t expected, at least not to his knowledge. “I thought you said you weren’t tracked.”
“I wasn’t.” Jon spits back.
“Well then why the hell are they here?” Redera asks. Both our mages getting antsy at this unexpected arrival.
“I don’t see warships.” Jon thinks fast. If there weren’t warships, then they weren’t out for blood. Which means his cover wasn’t blown. Which only left him with more questions. “So there must be another reason they’re here.”
“Did you wear the-“
“Yes I wore ring.” Jon cuts him off, already knowing where this was going. Beginning his brisk walk back inside. He felt uneasy being exposed in the open like that under Harkkonnen ships. Even if he was in the south gardens.
“Did you encounter any Bene Gesserit?” Redera asks his student. They walk down the corridor towards the throne room. Keeping their voices low as a troop of Vanguard Zealots march past them. All saluting their prince as they do so. Jon salutes back before continuing his walk.
“No.” Jon nearly hisses back. Sounding more like the Queen than he’d like to admit. “Why must you always ask that? I have never once encountered any Bene Gesserit in all my time as a mage. I doubt if their existence is even real.” Jon scoffed. Already knowing where this conversation as going, and he wasn’t going to like it.
“They’re very real.” Lumiere says through gritted teeth as he stops on a dime. A finger pointed towards Jon’s chest as he snaps on his student. “And I pray that you’re prepared enough should you ever have the misfortune of finding out for yourself.” He wonders if his student ascended through the Hierarchy too quickly if he were talking like this.
As they’re walking, they see the Emperor himself not too far off. Crowded by his advisory council. Jon speeds up his walk. Leaving Redera behind as he approaches the Emperor.
“Father-” He catches everyone off guard. His tone is collected. “why are Harkkonnen ships in atmosphere?” He keeps his calm. He nods to his mother, the best he could do for now. Or rather, all he felt like doing.
“Jon, there you are.” His father says “We’ve been looking all over for you. But I’m glad you asked, because this is a meeting I want you present for.” Jon could tell by the tension in the air that this was a meeting of high importance. Or was it?
Jons’ eyebrows crinkle. What the hell was the Emperor up to? More importantly, why didn’t he know about it.
15 Stressful Minutes later
The Gates Dynasty sat seated on the throne. Save for Jonathan. As the prince, he had to stand to the left of his father. He was ok with that. He felt the throne would be his soon enough. So he wasn’t going to make a big deal about that.
Jon watched as the Baron made himself present. All 600 pounds of him. Or at least that’s what Jon thought. Jon always thought he got into this condition through some type of sexual encounter. He didn’t want to know what type of space STD the Baron got to be like that. Jon was just speculating about that part. Or that’s what the stories around the Baron were. He was dressed in a shimmery grey robe which looked to be made of snakeskin. The floating clicking orb suspended behind him. Jon noticed those that followed him. The three bald headed women wrapped in fully black dresses. Maybe five more bald headed men in their military suits. Jon guessed the man in a dark blue cloak was their Mentat. Jon thought he looked depraved, so that must be him. There were some more members of what he guessed was his advisory council. Some were holding boxes, some were holding scrolls of some type. Jon’s nerves were calming though he still wondered why the hell was the Baron here?
That is until he saw the very last of them stalk into the throne room. He watched as this man pushed through those gargantuan gilded doors. Someone he felt was too familiar looking for his comfort. Jon followed as the man walked to the left of the Baron. Mirroring Jon’s position. It was none other than the bald-headed man he’d encountered on the instillation. You can't be fucking serious Jon thinks to himself. This was impossible. Was was he doing here? Jon quickly inspected the man as he walked. He feared this would be some assassination attempt. Maybe they caught his ship making a slipspace jump. But he saw the man had no weapon on him. He didn't even look the dressed for a battle of any kind. So why the hell was he here? None of this was making sense to Jon. He hid his disbelief as best he could. His face becoming an icy façade that almost mirrored his mothers. What else was he to do? Jon was reeling from the realization that this was the stole from. He figured the man was just another military advisor. He’d never seen him at any Landsraad events before. Maybe that’s who he was.
Feyd followed in behind the Baron and his retinue. Not dressed in his standard military uniform, but something the Baron deemed ‘acceptable’. Black shiny wrappings that covered his entire body. With a large stiff shirt over it, that had the Harkkonnen crest stitched in black on the front. Silver flat rings on a few of his fingers. He did pair the outfit with a pair of black standard issue military boots.
He was very unimpressed with what he’d seen so far. Nothing could ever impress him like the Citadel could. He feels this is such an unnecessary trip. However, the Baron made it clear: there was a new dynasty in the galaxy, and he wanted to get to them before the other houses did. He wasn’t even able to bring his harpies with him on the trip. That’s how quickly they had to leave for the Emperor. The Baron wanted to get the element of surprise over the other houses. Which he took full advantage of.
Feyd observed the Emperor, the Empress, and the prince. His eyes stopped on the prince. His mind wondering Now who is this? He thought Jon’s choice of clothing was interesting. Especially for a prince. Grey wrappings with gold text on them. He noticed how the stiff white shimmery shirt hung off his lithe looking frame. There seemed to be another series of white wrappings underneath that. The black spiked sneakers. What really caught Feyd’s eye were the diamond chains around Jon’s neck. Four of them, each one varying in size. A gold nail shaped bracelet on his left wrist. A mysterious red ring on his left middle finger paired with other small diamond rings. With a thin diamond bracelet on his right wrist. Feyd guessed the outfit was somewhere around one hundred thousand Solaris.
Both heirs kept stealing glances at each other throughout the meeting. Both being somewhat tuned out during the exchange between the two rulers. The glances of those trying to figure each other out without ever having an actual conversation.
Feyd taking in Jon’s visage some more. He’d seen the new Emperor. Everyone had seen the Emperor since they’d ascended. He’d heard he had a son though he’d never seen him. Though Feyd rarely attended any Landsraad events since the Jihad. For various reasons. But to see the new prince in person. In the flesh. He thought Jon was rather unassuming at first. A true example of someone that didn’t look threatening or imposing. However, Feyd knew those could be the most lethal. He looked younger than what he was. Though he was, pretty, the more Feyd looked at him. He could see him making for a fine pleasure slave on Barony. He looked to be short, short enough to be manhandled. Violently at that. They’d pay extra for that. He was far too skinny for the harpies. However, Feyd wondered what he sounded like when he screamed. When he was like in true moments of agony bordering on ecstasy. Choke him with one of those diamond chains.
Jonathan was, gorgeous. A beautiful young man. Strong but gracious looking yet obviously masculine. A good strong jawline to start him off. The Baron noted his big dark brown expressive eyes. The irises were so dark in fact they looked black at certain moments. Giving him a Harkkonnen style eye for a few seconds. A million solaris smile. Feyd it was fake for a moment the teeth looked so straight and white. Two full lips that only added to the composition of his face. They looked soft and somewhat glittery underneath the stage lights. Highly kissable. The type of lips they would pay money for, or to use for a various number of depraved acts. Or just steal them off of his face. It was a pretty mouth after all.
His skin looked radiant as well. Clear, gleaming. Soft too. Yet it was dark. Near mocha in its coloration. Lighter than his fathers but darker than his mothers. It was almost fascinating to see someone of his complexion on the royal stage. Jon’s nose was a little larger than the noses that were on Harkko. But, it was normal sized for someone with his lineage and phenotype. But even then it only added to his facial harmony. Completing the work of art that was his face. They were even longer than Feyd’s. They only accentuated his almond shaped eyes.
Jon steadied himself. He couldn’t help but feel Feyd boring holes into his face. He probably had a kink for that. He looked the type for it. Jon tried not to steal his own glances however. There was something striking about him. When he wasn’t blood thirsty, he was rather handsome. Those full pink lips. The way he gazed at your as if he wanted to fuck, fight, and eat you. His skin was rather clear for someone living on a wasteland. Jon was normally one for people with hair, though on Feyd the baldness worked. He still wondered if he had those teeth. Those blackened things he proudly displayed on the instillation. Jon wondered why the Baron didn’t have them.
The two kept forming their own assumptions about each other for the time being. However, that all stopped when the mention of their names came into play.
“An arrangement between our two houses could be extremely beneficial. Especially between Prince Jonathan and Feyd being next of our bloodlines. We need an ally in this new landscape, and you need a link to an established house. We’ve survived the Holy War, that should prove enough of our staying power. Which is what you need at this time.” The Baron explains.
The Emperor doesn’t respond. Though the Baron takes this as a sign to explain himself further.
“You need someone to watch your back. I have mouths at CHOAM that give clear evidence they are plotting against your house. They aren’t fond of your motions to rebuild what has been destroyed in the Holy War. We have one of the largest military forces that’s been left over from the war. Combined with the remaining Sardaukar, and the Vanguard Zealots we’d make for a dangerous combination.”
“So then what brings you here?” The Emperor asks.
“Our house would benefit from an arrangement with the Emperor. We would be staunch allies of the Gates Dynasty, provided we get something in return. We have certain painpoints that only the Emperor can resolve.” The Baron replies.
Jon and Feyd lock eyes. Feyds ice blue meeting with Jon’s bronze brown. Both unsettling, unflinching. He thought Jon would be the type to back down, to look away first, but no. His fascination with this new prince grows as he realizes Jon isn’t the scared little kitten, he thought he’d be. An unstoppable force peering into an immovable object.