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Book Three: The Prophet
“Lookslikearichpatch,sir,”thefactorycommandersaid.“ShallItake’erin?”
“Comedownattheedgeofthatridge,”Gurneyordered.“Letmedisembarkwithmymen.Youcantractorouttothespicefromthere.We’llhavealookatthatrock.”
“Aye.”
“Incaseoftrouble,”Gurneysaid,“savethefactory.We’llliftinthe’thopters.”
Thefactorycommandersaluted.“Aye,sir.”Hepoppedbackdownthroughthehatch.
AgainGurneyscannedthehorizon.HehadtorespectthepossibilitythattherewereFremenhereandhewastrespassing.Fremenworriedhim,theirtoughnessandunpredictability.Manythingsaboutthisbusinessworriedhim,buttherewardsweregreat.Thefactthathecouldn’tsendspottershighoverheadworriedhim,too.Thenecessityofradiosilenceaddedtohisuneasiness.
Thefactorycrawlerturned,begantodescend.Gentlyitglideddowntothedrybeachatthefootoftheridge.Treadstouchedsand.
Gurneyopenedthebubbledome,releasedhissafetystraps.Theinstantthefactorystopped,hewasout,slammingthebubbleclosedbehindhim,scramblingoutoverthetreadguardstoswingdowntothesandbeyondtheemergencynetting.Thefivemenofhispersonalguardwereoutwithhim,emergingfromthenosehatch.Othersreleasedthefactory’scarrierwing.Itdetached,liftedawaytoflyinaparkingcirclelowoverhead.
Immediatelythebigfactorycrawlerlurchedoff,swingingawayfromtheridgetowardthedarkpatchofspiceoutonthesand.
A’thopterswoopeddownnearby,skiddedtoastop.Anotherfollowedandanother.
