Human beings strive for respect and dignity. This a common theme in their personal interactions at all levels, from street gangs to Parliament. Religious wars have been fought over this issue, which is simple in theory but complex in practice.
— SERENA BUTLER,
comments in her last interview
As Supreme Commander of the Army of the Jihad, Vorian Atreides could have afforded fine quarters for himself and Leronica, a mansion or an entire estate. The League would have been happy to accommodate him for his more-than-a-lifetime of service.
Years ago, he had offered Leronica an opulent home, but she preferred something small and simple, comfortable but not extravagant. He had found an apartment in Zimia’s interplanetary district, a section of the city filled with a variety of cultures, which she always found fascinating.
When he’d brought his family to Salusa, Vor promised her all the wonders she could imagine. He had made good on that promise, but he wanted to give her much more than she would accept from him. She always remained sweet-natured and loving toward Vor. Constant and steadfast, she waited for him to come home and showed great delight whenever they were together.
Smiling now as he walked home through the neighborhood with fresh supplies and trinkets from recently visited Caladan, Vor heard many languages spoken, tongues that he identified from his travels: the guttural accents of Kirana III, the musical syllables of refugees from Chusuk, even slave dialects originating on former machine-controlled planets.
Grinning with anticipation, he climbed the steps of a well-kept wood-frame building, made his way to the fifth floor, and entered. Their four-bedroom apartment was clean and simple, decorated only with a few antiques and holos that depicted Vor’s greatest military victories.
In the kitchen at the rear of the apartment, he saw Leronica holding a pair of shopping bags that appeared much too heavy for her to carry in her thin arms. Having recently celebrated her ninety-third birthday, she looked every year of it, since she had never been a woman to pander to vanity. But even at her age, the woman insisted on doing her own shopping and leading her own social life when Vor was gone on his long military missions.
To keep herself busy, Leronica took in special fabrication jobs from people in the neighborhood, but never charged for her work, since she did not need the money. The culture of Salusa appreciated crafts and personally made items, instead of mass-produced objects that reminded the long-suffering people of mechanical precision. Leronica’s fishing quilts, much in demand, depicted scenes from exotic Caladan.
Grinning, Vor hurried over to hug her, snatching away the shopping bags and setting them on a side table. He gazed into her dark pecan eyes, which still looked youthful in her wrinkled, heart-shaped face. He kissed her passionately, seeing not an old woman but the person he had fallen in love with decades ago.
She caressed his artificially gray hair as they embraced. “I found your secret, Vorian. It seems that you age from a jar.” She laughed. “Not many men use coloring to make themselves look older! Your real hair is as rich and dark as when I first met you, isn’t it?”
Chagrined, he did not deny her discovery. Though he could never make himself look close to his one hundred fifteen years, he tinted his hair to diminish the obvious gap between himself and Leronica. His stubble of beard did add a bit of age, but his face had no lines.
“While I appreciate the gesture, you don’t need to bother. I still love you, despite your youthful appearance.” With an impish smile, Leronica turned back to working the feast she had planned in order to welcome him home.
He sniffed the enticing aromas. “Ah, something better than military fare! As if I needed another reason to keep returning to you.”
“Estes and Kagin are coming. You know they’ve been here for the past two weeks?”
“Yes, and I just missed them on Caladan.” He made a smile, for her sake, then said, “I look forward to seeing them.”
The last time the family had gotten together, he and Estes had gotten into a quarrel over a minor sarcastic comment. Vor couldn’t recall the specifics, but episodes like that always saddened him. With any luck, this evening would be tolerable. He would try his best, but the gulf between them would remain.
When they were teens, Kagin had accidentally discovered that Vor was his real father, and he had told the shocking news to his brother. Leronica tried to soothe their distress, but the hurt did not easily go away. Both boys preferred their pleasant childhood memories with Kalem Vazz, the man who had raised them as his own sons until he was killed by elecrans out in the seas.
Now, while Leronica busied herself in the kitchen, he answered the door to welcome his sons. Estes and Kagin were in their mid-sixties but had slowed their aging process by taking regular melange, which gave their eyes a bluish tint. Both had dark hair and lean Atreides features, but Estes was slightly taller and more flamboyant, while Kagin took the role of a quiet, introspective follower. Youthful and smiling, Vor appeared young enough to be one of their grandsons.
They shook his hand— no hugs, no kisses, no words of affection, just deferential respect— before going into the kitchen. Only then did their tones change, and they offered all of their charm and love to their mother.
Long ago, head-over-heels in love, Vor had set up Leronica and the boys in a nice house on Salusa. Then he’d gone off to fight his Jihad missions, leaving them to fend for themselves, never realizing how much it seemed like he was abandoning them after dumping them in a strange world with no friends.
Each time Vor returned home, he had expected the twins to greet him like a hero, but the boys behaved distantly. Calling in favors among League politicians, Vor made sure his sons had good connections, proper schooling, the best opportunities possible. They accepted such privileges, but did not thank him. True, they had taken his name, at Leronica’s insistence. At least that was something.
“Grand crab and shore snails, specially imported,” she announced brightly from the kitchen. “One of your father’s favorite meals.” Vor inhaled the savory aromas of garlic and herbs, and his mouth watered in anticipation. He remembered the first time she had prepared this meal for him on Caladan.
Leronica brought a platter of four large crabs into the dining chamber and placed it on a suspensor-field turntable that floated above the center platform. The transparent tabletop covered an artificial tidepool, a miniature world of seawater, rocks, and sand. Small, cone-shaped snails clung to the rocks. Vor had transported the table here from Caladan, knowing Leronica would love it.
Before the group sat down, Vor opened a bottle of the inexpensive Salnoir wine that Leronica preferred. On other planets the dry, pink wine went by different names, but it was essentially the same grape everywhere, and went very well with seafood. Leronica especially liked its reasonable price; it was a continuing source of pride for her to keep household expenses down.
Vor had given up trying to get her to spend more and improve her standard of living. An economical lifestyle made her happy and gave her a feeling of worth, because it left more money for her to donate to worthy causes. Since so many people were in need of help, so many refugees of the Jihad, Leronica always felt guilty in luxurious surroundings. In some ways, she reminded him of Serena Butler herself.
Vor had an accountant pay household bills and gave Leronica whatever money was left over, so she could donate it as she pleased. Many of her favorite causes involved underprivileged children and even Buddislamic families that most everyone else in the League disliked for their refusal to fight thinking machines. She also gave substantial stipends to her sons, in a generous effort to make up for the lack of opportunities they had in the fishing villages of Caladan.
At the center of the table, four small metal ramps opened on the suspensor turntable. Enjoying herself across the table, Leronica operated the controls from her chair. A steaming roasted crab slid down each ramp onto the plates, and then the suspensor lifted to a compartment in the ceiling, out of the way. The aroma of salt and pungent seasonings saturated the air.
The two younger men removed packets of melange from their pockets and each sprinkled the spice onto Leronica’s carefully prepared food without even tasting it. Their mother did not approve of too much spice consumption, but she said nothing, apparently not wishing to spoil the special dinner.
“Will you be staying on Salusa long this time, Father?” Estes said. “Or do you have Jihad business again?”
“I’m here for a few weeks,” Vor said, not missing the slight sarcasm. “There’ll be the usual round of political and military meetings.” His gaze lingered on his son for a moment.
“The boys are staying for three months,” Leronica said with a pleased smile. “They’ve rented their own apartment.”
“Space travel takes so long, and a trip from Caladan is such a major undertaking,” Kagin said, then his voice began to trail off. “It… seemed the best thing.”
Almost certainly, Vor would be off again before his sons left. They all knew it.
After a brief but awkward lull in the conversation, Leronica slid open the lid of the glazplaz tabletop. The diners used long clamps to pluck live snails off the rocks; then with little forks they pried the snail meat from the shells. Vor dipped snail after snail into herbed butter and ate them, then dug into the main course of roast crab.
Across the table, Vor caught Leronica’s brown-eyed gaze, returned her smile, and it helped to calm him. She ate her crab with an impressive appetite for an old woman. After the meal, as usual, after coffee, conversation, and games with Estes and Kagin, she would snuggle with him. Later, they might even make love, if she felt up to it. Her age did not matter to Vor in the least. He still loved her, still wanted her.
Now she beamed at him and spontaneously kissed his cheek. Their sons watched them, looking uncomfortable at the display of affection, but they could do nothing about the way Vor and Leronica felt for each other….
* * *
THAT EVENING AS Vor lay awake next to her, glad to be home, he thought long into the night. His relationship with his sons had never blossomed, as much his own fault as theirs. Recalling his days as a trustee of the thinking machines, Vor wondered if Agamemnon had somehow managed to be the better father….
He thought of when he’d been a brave young Jihad officer with women fawning over him in every port. At the time, Xavier had been happily married to Octa, who suggested that Vor settle down and find a soul mate of his own. Vor had been unable to imagine such love, and instead occupied himself with numerous flings, a girl on every planet. In particular he remembered a beautiful woman on Hagal named Karida Julan; he knew she had given birth to a daughter, but since meeting Leronica more than half a century ago, he had almost forgotten about her….
It was not enough that he’d done his best to help Abulurd, in honor of Xavier’s memory. He had lost his own sons, long ago. He would continue to try working through the barrier with Estes and Kagin, but they were old now and set in their ways. He doubted his relationship with them would ever be close. But he did have Leronica’s love, and Abulurd was like a son to him. And perhaps…
Jihad business takes me to many far-flung places, he thought. I’ll track down some of my other children— or grandchildren. I should know them, somehow… and they should know me.