Chapter 289: The Rise and Fall of a Family Hinges on a Single Thought! The Emperor's Delegation Arrives!
Hawat continued, "As for the hidden dangers of AI, since the Universal Mega-Corporation has already widely adopted AI systems, they've naturally developed countermeasures as well."
"So there's no need for us to be overly concerned about the impact of AI. If the sky falls, the Mega-Corp will hold it up—we don't need to worry about that."
Hawat had long been frustrated by the Galactic Empire's overly cautious, self-sabotaging behavior.
Though the use of AI might spell the end of many Mentat careers, these professionals were, after all, the byproduct of a twisted technological development path.
Given the sheer scale of the Universal Mega-Corp, absorbing this pool of brilliant Mentats and resolving their employment issues was hardly a challenge.
As for AI potentially dismantling the foundations of the great noble houses—well, that was simply a necessary sacrifice.
If the Universal Mega-Corp was to become the new ruler of the Galactic Empire, it had to destroy the existing political system and its roots in order to rebuild a new order and a new source of authority.
The power base of the Mega-Corp was not built on bloodlines or tradition, but on vast dreadnoughts and artillery, and the absolute might spanning countless parallel universes. Rule belongs to the strongest.
But the Mega-Corp wasn't planning to hoard all the power for itself. The authority of the Galactic Empire would be split 70-30, and all territorial holdings and resources of the noble families would be returned in full.
The Mega-Corp was willingly sharing the fruits of power and redistributing authority and resources. Excluding the royal family and the opposition, everyone else would get a fair seat at the table. Hawat didn't believe the powerful aristocrats wouldn't be tempted by such an offer.
All the noble houses had to do was betray their ancestors—deny the meaning of the Jihad—and they'd receive even more territory and power than before.
Under such circumstances, any competent politician would be willing to metaphorically dance on their ancestors' graves, mocking their ignorance, and give their full support to the arrival of the great Universal Mega-Corp.
At this moment, Hawat's tone was almost pleading, urging Leto to make a swift decision and ally with the Mega-Corp.
"My Lord Duke, I earnestly recommend that you form an alliance with the Universal Mega-Corp. Lead the great Atreides family to the pinnacle of the Empire and achieve eternal glory!"
Hawat was clearly all-in on this plan—his entire family was ready to rebel, their pants already halfway down, so to speak—might as well go all the way without hesitation.
Tear it all off in one go—it'd be cleaner.
If the old power structure wasn't shattered, there would be no way to redistribute new resources. If the Atreides wanted a bigger slice, they'd have to use force to their advantage.
Sometimes, Hawat truly envied Duke Leto—he came from an established lineage, and had the capital to engage in high-stakes political games. One well-timed gamble could double the rewards.
And thanks to gaps in information or his value as a political ally, these elite families had an exceptionally high success rate with their bets. A simple nod could grant them access to resources the lower classes could never dream of.
Like now—the Mega-Corp had laid all their cards on the table for Duke Leto. All he had to do was go all-in, and he'd win the title of the Empire's First Family, along with a flood of resources!
At this point, every senior member of the Atreides family in the meeting room held their breath in anticipation—including Lady Jessica. All eyes were on Leto, waiting for his decision.
That decision would shape the future of the Galactic Empire, and determine the fate of House Atreides—whether they would rise to glory or fall into ruin. Everything hinged on this single moment.
Faced with everyone's eager gazes, Duke Leto didn't give a direct answer. Instead, he spoke thoughtfully:
"The royal delegation will arrive at any moment. Let the Mega-Corp's vanguard fleet land on Caladan first—but make sure the royal emissaries don't see any trace of their forces."
Upon hearing this, the Atreides family members in the room collectively exhaled in relief.
Leto's words had made his stance clear—he had agreed to cooperate with the Universal Mega-Corp.
Otherwise, there's no way he would have permitted their fleet to land directly on Caladan.
"Excellent! I'll contact the Mega-Corp's director immediately."
Hawat could barely contain his excitement. He knew that the era of House Atreides was about to begin!
…
For House Atreides, this was a significant day. In just thirty minutes, the imperial delegation from House Corrino would land on Caladan.
Emperor Shaddam's edict would be formally delivered to Duke Leto—and it was this deadly decree that would decide the rise or fall of the Atreides.
At this moment, in the inner courtyard of the Atreides estate, two elegant handmaidens stood at the edge of the grand hall, holding an exquisitely crafted formal outfit.
At the dining table, Lady Jessica watched her son Paul intently before speaking:
"The Emperor's delegation will arrive shortly. Once you finish eating, change into formal attire and come with us to receive them."
Paul glanced at the formalwear in the maids' hands and asked, puzzled, "If we've already made our decision, why go through the motions?"
He had already learned of the family's impending rebellion. If they were going to turn against the Empire, why put on a show of respect for the delegation? Wouldn't it be better to wear military garb and project strength?
Of course, Paul was not yet the future Emperor of the galaxy. He lacked the political acumen and savvy, and truthfully, he found all of this politics exhausting and tedious.
"It's proper etiquette—not pointless."
Jessica emphasized the importance of maintaining order. Even if the current order was on the verge of collapse, they had to perform their duties while it still stood.
This was the ritual expected of nobles.
Paul didn't argue further. He simply nodded in silence, agreeing to her request.
Just then, Jessica poured a glass of water. Paul, feeling thirsty, thanked her and asked her to hand it to him.
But Jessica remained still and said, "If you want the water, use Voice to command me."
"Voice," one of the Bene Gesserit techniques, allowed the user to control others through vocal tone alone.
And that was just one facet of a Bene Gesserit's skill set. They were also capable of lie detection, reading minds, predicting the future, enhancing cognitive functions, and maintaining mental stability.
All these powers required spice to cultivate.
Jessica looked at Paul's still-youthful face. At just fifteen, he stood on the precipice of a crumbling galactic empire. He needed a skill he could rely on.
If he mastered Voice, no matter what happened, he'd always have a way to protect himself—he wouldn't be defenseless prey.
That was the only legacy she could give her son.
"I just woke up… I'm tired."
Paul didn't understand what his mother was trying to do and replied groggily, clearly not in the mood to use Voice just to get a drink.
But when he saw Jessica's stern expression, he realized this was a test—a way for her to gauge his training progress.
Resigned, Paul took a deep breath and looked directly at her.
"Give me the water."
In that instant, Jessica saw his lips move ever so slightly—and for a brief moment, her mind plunged into chaos.
But only for a moment.
When she regained clarity, she noticed the water glass had shifted significantly across the table. Clearly, Paul had just used Voice on her, though the effect hadn't lasted long.
Still, for a fifteen-year-old, it was an impressive feat.
After all, Jessica herself was a powerful Voice user. Controlling her—even briefly—was no small task.
"Well done. You're close, but not quite there."
Jessica finally smiled. Paul's current mastery was already enough to control most ordinary people. For self-defense, it was more or less sufficient.
"Close, huh…"
Paul raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. He'd been training Voice extensively in private and had believed he'd reached a master level. But in front of his mother, he was still just average.
Sensing Paul's disappointment, Jessica smiled and offered comfort. "Voice isn't something you master overnight. It takes long-term training and persistence."
She paused, then looked at her son's tired face. "Did you not sleep well last night?"
"No… maybe it's the training."
Paul shook his head and gave a half-truth. He didn't want her to worry about him.
In reality, he'd been dreaming non-stop for some time now. These dreams were likely influenced by the spice—visions of the future.
They drained him mentally, leaving him exhausted during the day.
"Take care of your body. Don't push yourself too hard."
Jessica spoke with concern.
After breakfast, with some time still left before the Emperor's delegation arrived, Paul went to the study to read about Arrakis and the Fremen.
The Fremen were the original inhabitants of Arrakis. Their ancestors came from Earth but were oppressed by the nobility and fled here by spaceship, eventually settling and multiplying.
Although Arrakis was rich in spice, the Fremen received no share of that wealth.
In fact, the spice trade had only brought them suffering—they were frequently hunted by the noble houses.
Originally, when the Empire discovered the desert planet, the plan had been to terraform it into a habitable world.
But once spice was discovered—and with it the revelation that spice could only be produced in the desert—the imperial family ordered that Arrakis be kept a desert world forever.
The Fremen suffered for it. They had once lived in small habitable areas, but now were forced to hide in caves and underground tunnels.
Yet through this, the Fremen forged incredible combat and survival skills.
They were even more formidable than the Emperor's Sardaukar troops.
If the story followed its original path, the Fremen would become Paul's greatest allies in his rise to Emperor.
Just months ago, Paul had dreamed of Fremen chanting his name as they launched a massive uprising, with him at the helm.
But lately, those dreams had changed—he now saw a stranger ascending the Golden Lion Throne to rule the galaxy.
In these dreams, the protagonist was no longer him.
"Paul, go get changed."
As Paul was lost in thought, Lady Jessica's voice suddenly rang out.
"The Emperor's emissaries are almost here. Your father is waiting."
…
Meanwhile, the Guild Highliner had already passed through the space-time rift and emerged in low orbit around Caladan.
It was a cylindrical vessel stretching twenty-five kilometers in length. The center of the cylinder was hollow—like a sheet of paper curled into a tube, exposing the circular ends on either side.
This bizarre design meant only the thin shell of the cylinder could be used to house crew and cargo; the vast empty space in the center served no practical function, existing purely for show.
Compared to the warships and transport craft of the major interstellar Megacorp , this ship's spatial efficiency was shockingly low—little more than an ostentatious flight ornament.
Yet within the Galactic Empire, this was the most advanced spacecraft in existence, a shining achievement of human civilization in the Dune universe.
After settling into stable low orbit, a smaller egg-shaped ship, one hundred meters in diameter, detached from the Highliner's bay and descended toward the Atreides family estate.
As the frontline unit relayed its report, Hawat turned his head and quietly informed, "My Duke, they've arrived."
Leto nodded impassively. Already having formulated his entire response, he simply gazed calmly at the descending vessel on the horizon, a subtle, enigmatic smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Shall we send someone to seize them all?"
Hawat asked in a low voice.
"No rush. Let's toy with them for a bit."
As his words fell, the ship landed squarely in an open plaza on the estate, under the watchful eyes of countless Atreides retainers.
A boarding ramp extended from the underside of the vessel, and the delegation from House Corrino slowly made their way down.
Leto stood motionless, watching the procession ahead. Noticing the general beside him growing visibly agitated, he spoke in a measured tone: "Relax, Gurney. Haven't you seen this sort of pomp before?"
The "Gurney" he referred to was Gurney Halleck, a high-ranking general of House Atreides and its loyal master-of-arms.
As the commander of the Atreides guard, the very sight of these imperial lapdogs—who had conspired to betray his Duke—made his blood boil. He wanted nothing more than to rush forward and cut them all down.
"My apologies, my Lord Duke."
Gurney did his best to suppress the fury roiling within him, forcing his expression back to normal.
After disembarking, the imperial delegation launched into a full ceremonial presentation of imperial honors, with all the pomp and circumstance expected of the court.
Leto watched the absurdly theatrical display unfold, unable to hold back his curiosity as he turned to Hawat:
"They came all this way just to put on this farce—how much does this nonsense cost?"
Hawat observed the delegation for a moment, then replied, "Roughly one and a half million Solari."
Solari—the currency of the Galactic Empire in the Dune universe. That amount could easily support three families for an entire lifetime.
Hearing this, Leto gave a cold chuckle. To ensure House Atreides departed for Arrakis in high spirits, the Emperor had gone to extravagant lengths indeed.
If he hadn't already uncovered the treacherous scheme between the Emperor and House Harkonnen, he might have actually fallen for this illusion of grandeur and good will.
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