The attack was taking its designed shape - scout ships laying down a decoy barrage and heavy carriers moving into strike position. Teg became now what he thought of as "the instrument of my instruments." It was difficult to determine which commanded and which responded.
Now, the delicate part.
Unknowns were to be feared. A good commander kept that firmly in mind. There were always unknowns.
Decoys were nearing the defensive perimeter. He saw enemy no-ships and foldspace sensors - bright dots arrayed through his awareness. Teg superimposed this onto the positions of his force. Every order he gave must appear to originate from a battle-plot they all shared.
He felt thankful Murbella had not joined him. Any Reverend Mother might see through his deception. But no one had questioned Odrade's order that Murbella wait with her party at a safe distance.
"Potential Mother Superior. Guard this one well."
Explosive demolition of decoys began with a random display of brilliant flashes around the planet. He leaned forward, staring at projections.
"There's the pattern!"
There was no such pattern but his words created belief and pulses quickened. No one questioned that the Bashar had seen vulnerability in the defenses. His hands flashed over the comboard, sending his ships forward in a blazing display that littered space behind them with enemy fragments.
"All right! Let's go!"
He fed the flagship's course directly into Navigation, then turned full attention to Fire Control. Silent explosions dotted space around them as the flagship mopped up surviving elements of Gammu's perimeter guardians.
"More decoys!" he ordered.
Globes of white light blinked in the projection fields.
Attention in the command bay concentrated on the fields, not on their Bashar. The unexpected! Teg, justly famous for that, was confirming his reputation.
"I find this oddly romantic," Streggi said.
Romantic? No romance in this! The time for romance was past and yet to come. A certain aura might surround plans for violence. He accepted that. Historians created their own brand of drama-cum-romance. But now? This was adrenaline time! Romance distracted you from necessities. You had to be cold inside, a clear and unimpaired line between mind and body.
As his hands moved in the comboard's field, Teg realized what had driven Streggi to speak. Something primitive about the death and destruction being created here. This was a moment cut out of normal order. A disturbing return to ancient tribal patterns.
She sensed a tom-tom in her breast and voices chanting: "Kill! Kill! Kill!"
His vision of guardian no-ships showed survivors fleeing in panic.
Good! Panic has a way of spreading and weakening your enemies.
"There's Barony."
Idaho had converted him to the old Harkonnen name for the sprawling city with its giant black centerpiece of plasteel.
"We'll land on the Flat to the north."
He spoke the words but his hands gave the orders.
Quickly now!
For brief moments when they disgorged troops, no-ships were visible and vulnerable. He held elements of the entire force responsive to his comboard and responsibility was heavy.
"This is only a feint. We go in and out after inflicting serious damage. Junction is our real target."
Odrade's parting admonition lay there in memory. "Honored Matres must be taught a lesson such as never before. Attack us and you get hurt badly. Press us and the pain can be enormous. They've heard about Bene Gesserit punishments. We're notorious. No doubt Spider Queen sniggered a bit. You must shove that snigger down her throat!"
"Quit ship!"
This was the vulnerable moment. Space above them remained empty of threat but fire lances arced inward from the east. His gunners could handle those. He concentrated on the possibility that enemy no-ships might return for a suicide attack. Command bay projections showed his hammerships and troop carriers pouring from the holds. The shock force, an armored elite on suspensors, already had the perimeter secured.
There went the portable comeyes to spread his field of observation and relay the intimate details of violence. Communication, the key to responsive command, but it also displayed bloody destruction.
"All clear!"
The signal rang through the bay.
He lifted off the Flat and repositioned in full invisibility. Now, only the comlinks gave defenders a clue to his position and that was masked by decoy relays.
Projection displayed the monstrous rectangle of the ancient Harkonnen center. It had been built as a block of light-absorbing metal to confine slaves. The elite had lived in garden mansions on top. Honored Matres had returned it to its former oppression.
Three of his giant hammerships came into view.
"Clear the top of that thing!" he ordered. "Wipe it clean but do as little damage as possible to the structure."
He knew his words were superfluous but spoke for the release. Everyone in the attack force knew what he wanted.
"Relay reports!" he ordered.
Information began flowing from the horseshoe on his shoulders. He brought it up on secondary. Comeyes showed his troops clearing the perimeter. Battle overhead and on the ground was well in hand for at least fifty klicks out. Going far better than he had expected. So Honored Matres kept their heavy stuff off-planet, not anticipating bold attack. A familiar attitude and he had Idaho to thank for predicting it.
"They're power-blind. They think heavy armor is for space and only light stuff for the ground. Heavy weapons are brought down as needed. No sense keeping them on planet. Takes too much energy. Besides, awareness of all that heavy stuff up there has a quieting effect on captive populations."
Idaho's concepts of weaponry were devastating.
"We tend to fix our minds on what we believe we know. A projectile is a projectile even when miniaturized to contain poisons or biologicals."
Innovations in protective equipment improved mobility. Built into uniforms where possible. And Idaho had brought back the shield with its awesome destruction when struck by a lasgun beam. Shields on suspensors hidden in what appeared to be soldiers (but were actually inflated uniforms) spread out ahead of troops. Lasgun fire at them produced clean atomics to clear large areas.
Will Junction be this easy?
Teg doubted it. Necessity enforced quick adaptation to new methods.
They could have shields on Junction in two days.
And no inhibitions about how to employ them.
Shields had dominated the Old Empire, he knew, because of that oddly important set of words called "Great Convention." Honorable people did not misuse weapons of their feudal society. If you dishonored the Convention, your peers turned against you with united violence. More than that, there had been the intangible, "Face," that some called "Pride."
Face! My position in the pack.
More important to some than life itself.
"This is costing us very little," Streggi said.
She was becoming quite the battle analyst and much too banal for Teg's liking. Streggi meant they were losing few lives but perhaps she spoke truer than she knew.
"It's difficult to think of cheap devices doing the job," Idaho had said. "But that's a powerful weapon."
If your weapons cost only a small fraction of the energy your enemy spent, you had a potent lever that could prevail against seemingly overwhelming odds. Prolong the conflict and you wasted enemy substance. Your foe toppled because control of production and workers was lost.