Chapter 18: The Duke's Eyes
Duncan met me at a safe house two days later. Neutral territory—neither Harkonnen nor Atreides, just a merchant's storage room rented for the hour.
"The cache was exactly where you said." He set a small bag on the table between us. "Fifty-three rifles. Hundred and twelve liters of water. Harkonnen ammunition. All verified."
"Told you it would check out."
"You did." He sat across from me. "My commander wants to know more about you. About what you know. About what you can provide."
"Who's your commander?"
"Thufir Hawat. Master of Assassins for House Atreides. Former Mentat." Duncan's tone was carefully neutral. "He'd like to speak with you. Remotely."
Thufir Hawat. The human computer. The man who could calculate probable outcomes to terrifying accuracy. Who'd eventually be captured and turned by Harkonnens—but not yet. Now he was dangerous, competent, and absolutely loyal to Duke Leto.
"Remote how?"
Duncan produced a communication device. Encrypted, high-quality. "Audio only. He's still on the transport ship. Arrives with the Duke in six days."
Six days. Less time than I'd thought.
"I'm ready when he is."
Duncan activated the device. Static, then a voice—dry, precise, old but sharp.
"This is Hawat. State your name and occupation."
"Morvani. Smuggler. Spice and water routes primarily."
"Duncan reports you provided accurate intelligence on a Harkonnen cache. How did you acquire this information?"
"Smugglers know where things are. Part of the business. The Harkonnens are withdrawing—they're leaving caches behind, forgetting smaller installations."
"Who runs your smuggling operation?"
Dangerous question. But verifiable if Hawat decided to investigate.
"Turok Sirat. Sirat Syndicate. Mid-level operation. We handle routes the major players don't want."
"What do you know about Fremen?"
The question came sharp. Calculated. Testing.
"Not much," I lied smoothly. "They control the deep desert. Occasionally trade with smugglers but don't trust outsiders. Dangerous if provoked. Respect water discipline absolutely."
"Have you had direct contact?"
Yes. Two nights ago. But admitting that opened questions I couldn't answer.
"No. Just heard stories. Smugglers who go too deep into their territory don't come back."
Silence on the line. Hawat processing. Calculating probabilities. Measuring my words against known data.
"Why help us?" he asked finally.
"Because the Atreides are taking over. Because being useful now means survival later. Because I'd rather work with people who pay fairly than people who kill for sport."
"You speak poorly of the Harkonnens."
"You've met the Harkonnens. Can you blame me?"
A dry sound that might have been laughter. "No. I cannot."
More silence. Then: "Duncan trusts you. That counts for something. Here are our terms."
I listened.
"You provide intelligence on local operations. Smuggling routes. Power structures. Harkonnen holdouts. In exchange, House Atreides will not prosecute your syndicate activities. You'll receive warning of any moves against you. And you'll be paid fairly for valuable information."
"What constitutes valuable?"
"Duncan will determine that. He's my eyes in Arrakeen." Pause. "Be aware: if you betray us, the consequences will be severe. House Atreides may value honor, but we are not naive."
"Understood."
"Duncan will be your contact. Report to him weekly. More often if critical intelligence surfaces. Do we have an arrangement?"
I thought about it. Pretended to think about it, anyway. The decision was made days ago.
"We do."
"Excellent. Duncan, proceed with onboarding protocols."
The connection cut.
Duncan deactivated the device. Looked at me. "Thufir's thorough. He'll verify everything you said. If it doesn't match, he'll know."
"It'll match."
"I believe you." He stood. Extended his hand again. "Welcome to House Atreides intelligence network. Unofficially."
I shook his hand. "Glad to be here. Unofficially."
He smiled. Genuine warmth. "You're strange, Morvani. But I like you. Most locals try to play both sides. You're at least honest about it."
"Everyone plays both sides. I'm just efficient."
"Fair enough." He moved toward the door. Paused. "The Duke arrives in six days. Things change fast after that. Stay alert. Stay useful. Stay alive."
"That's the plan."
He left.
I sat in the empty room. Stared at the wall.
I'd done it. Positioned myself with the Atreides. Made myself valuable. When the Harkonnen attack came, I'd have warning, protection, maybe escape routes.
But I'd also shaken Duncan Idaho's hand twice now. Shared his trust. Heard genuine liking in his voice.
And I knew—absolutely knew—that in weeks he'd die buying Paul time to escape. Holding a door against impossible odds. Dying for honor and loyalty and all the things that made him Duncan Idaho.
I could warn him. Tell him about the Sardaukar. About the betrayal. Give him time to prepare, to counter, to maybe survive.
I wouldn't.
The timeline had to hold. Paul's development depended on Duncan's sacrifice. The Fremen integration depended on Paul fleeing. The entire future hung on these events happening correctly.
I couldn't save everyone. Could barely save myself.
So I'd take Duncan's friendship, use his trust, and let him walk into that door knowing what awaited him.
The HR stat at 95% made more sense now. One percent lost to ambition. One percent lost to calculated betrayal of someone who genuinely liked me.
How much more would I lose before this was over?
I left the safe house. Walked through evening crowds. The city was preparing for transition—Harkonnen symbols being removed, Atreides colors appearing in merchant windows.
Six days until Duke Leto arrived. Maybe ten until the massacre.
I had to be ready. Had to survive. Had to make sure when the fire came, I was standing in the right place to profit from the ashes.
The System whispered approval.
[ALLIANCE ESTABLISHED: HOUSE ATREIDES]
[STATUS: PROTECTED CONTACT]
[BENEFIT: SURVIVAL PROBABILITY INCREASED]
[WARNING: MULTIPLE ALLEGIANCES CREATE VULNERABILITY]
[RECOMMENDATION: PREPARE EXIT STRATEGIES]
Sound advice.
I'd survive this. Whatever the cost.
Even if that cost was a good man's life.
Even if that cost was my own humanity.
Survival. Always survival.
One grain at a time.
Reviews and Power Stones keep the heat on!
Want to see what happens before the "heroes" do?
Secure your spot in the inner circle on Patreon. Skip the weekly wait and read ahead:
💵 Hustler [$7]: 15 Chapters ahead.
⚖️ Enforcer [$11]: 20 Chapters ahead.
👑 Kingpin [$16]: 25 Chapters ahead.
Periodic drops. Check on Patreon for the full release list.
👉 Join the Syndicate: patreon.com/Anti_hero_fanfic