The Confession

A story set in the world of Frank Herbert's Dune. This is the moment before Dr. Yueh is set to meet the Baron Harkonnen and get his wife back.

            The traitor sat down at an out of the way desk, in a small antechamber, three levels down in the earth in the cool of this early morning darkness. He began to write what little he was going to do to try and explain his actions. Although he failed to believe that they would listen or understand but he would try anyhow.

            He sat at the desk musing over what to say and how he would say what he would. There were times like these that he didn’t want to use the trappings of technology, Bulterian Jihad not withstanding. But to do things the old fashioned way, with an antique pen and paper. It felt better that way somehow. More real. As if he was truly and fully in control of the events that swirled about him. To be actually writing his reason for what he had done and for what he was about to do. He picked up a plain piece of paper, a rarity in these days of filament and film books. No matter. You are getting sentimental in your old age, he told himself. That thought almost brought a smile to his tight purple, Sapho-stained lips. Almost. There was not room for happiness in his life until his heart was returned to him. And with this final gesture that would be assured. He was so promised. In a very short time he would be complete again. Oh, the days of separation would be over very soon.

            He would give the Shatain his due and then this sarfa, this turning away, as the locals called it would be over. His life would return. Oh, my love, he called silently to the hidden sky so many feet above him, soon our hands will be entwined. All will be as it was before this madness. I will look into those deep green eyes and you will smile for me. And this, all this pain will be gone. Swept away on the evening breeze. I will never leave you again.

            Surely no one would condemn him for what he had done, for it was all done in the name of love after all.. And what a nobler cause then that one, none that he could think of at the moment. The future would understand that, if nothing or no one understood anything else.

            So he sat in the chair by the dim yellow light of a low hanging, suspensor lamp and stared at the paper lying on the table before him. Asking, no demanding him to make his actions understood.

            What to say, he thought. In a little time he had to prepare for what was coming. He set his jaw and scribbled the first line. How do I coalesce what I feel? What has happened to me and thru me over the past several years? How do you explain the mechanics of betrayal of this magnitude? How can someone move from a man devoted to healing to one who is prepared to take human life, any human life to bring about a certain end?  And the biggest query of it all: Will I be able to live with myself after all of this is over and done. How to start? Just start and let the words like spice flow.

            Do no try to forgive me, he began. Stopping, he lifted up the pen.  Do I want their pity? No. how can I ask any of these things? He was not sure. This was a start. He looked at the first line drying in the dim light of the suspensor lamp. No. No forgiveness for him.  I do not want your forgiveness. I have enough burdens already.  There, that was good. No reasoning, just plain facts. They would understand that. But they would ask why. That question atleast he would attempt to explain. What I have done was done without malice or the hope of another’s understanding. That was a lie. Deep down in his soul or what was left of it, he hoped that they would know why. Surely the witch would understand. She has done many a thing, a sacrifice for love. The deep abiding for one’s soul mate. She above all people would feel the same way. What would she not do for her love? The same. Here was a situation that he found no way out of. The path ahead was split in two. Heaven or Hell. No, that was not the question. To have love or to be without. That was. And he made the only choice he could have made. To be with her again. My wife, my love, my Wanna. So now at the cross roads he sat. it is my own tahaddi al-burham, my  ultimate test. I I will pass it. I will for us both.

            He turned his head and looked at the two parcels at his feet. What useless trappings they were. The young master and his mother didn’t stand a chance against the enemy. Who was he trying to kid by leaving these things for them. Was it some foolish attempt to placate his conscience? Maybe they had a chance. No, they did not. All the training in the universe could not prepare them for what was coming to them. What horrors he was about to unleash. And the ring? The final insult. Taken from his Duke. The man who had taken him into his confidence and his home so many years ago. The man who loved him and whom he loved. All these props meant nothing but he would give them anyway. I give you the Atreides Ducal Signet as a token that I write truly. Now for the last past �" what was that? A noise! They were coming. Finish and be quick about it.  By the time you read this Duke Leto will be dead. Take some consolation from my assurance that he will not die alone, that one we hate above all others died with him.

            That much he knew for sure. The enemy would be dead also and he would receive his reward. The safe return of his love, as promised. He tucked the note and the ring together in the front pouch of one of the packs and stood up. Hushing the globe as he did. The room plunged into darkness except for the dim light from the hall. That is all I can do. Maybe with some luck. God, with some luck, they can get out of this thing alive Both of them were very resourceful that was for sure. He should know, he helped train the young master. One of the brightest he had ever taught. And there had been many. At the Suk school and at court.  But none so close to his heart. That was the issue that made this betrayal so agonizing.

            They are here. Time is so short. One last task to achieve. And quickly.

            He rose, retrieved the packs and made his way as fast as he could to the hanger, being careful to limit his movements near open halls and staying close to the shadows. The enemy was in complete control now, so the hanger would be fairly unguarded. Watching his back, he quietly slipped aboard the waiting ‘thopter which had been set aside to take the young master and the mother to their deaths in the desert. He hid the packs on the floor near the rear compartments. He then scratches his sign in several places, knowing that the two of them would spot them as a result of their training

It is done, he thought, nothing to do but play the final hand.

These little tools of survival hopefully would fall into Paul’s hands. Then all would be in the new Duke’s hands to survive and fulfill his new place as leader. Leader of a decimated family. But there was an odd ring to that thought. Duke Paul Atreides. Yueh prayed that his plans would move along the path on which he had set them. The future is a river of possibilities, one of his teacher had said at the Suk school. We are but flotsam swept along in its unforgiving current. Unable to alter its flow. Yes, Dr. Orsiron, but we can choose how we face that future. I choose to be facing forward staring the future in the face, howling my contempt.

He quickly returned to the room where he was instructed to await the arrival of the enemy and the playing of the final hand. He spoke to the suspensor land as he walked in, and its warm glow spread across the room once again. As he settled down, folding his hands across his chest and closing his eyes, he began to meditate slowly. Perhaps the meditation techniques that he has shown the young master would help now. Slowly, ever so slowly, waves of calm began to wash over him. His mind drifted towards on of the fleeting happy times with his beloved. As soon as the memory came, came with it that this task was almost done. Nearly.

He heard a rustle at the door, opened his eyes and looked up. A Sardaukar captain stood in the door way. A stunner in one hand and his left hand against the hilt of his sword.

“This way, Traitor.” He growled.

So that is the way it is to be, Yueh thought. No matter what I am I shall always be known as such. So be it. A small price to pay for Wanna.   She is more valuable than any name he could be labeled with.

Doctor Wellington Yueh followed the soldier out into the dim stone hall of the former Atreides palace, still echoing with distant sounds of struggle. He walked with his heart heavy but hopeful towards his awaiting fate.