play.
Guess I'm just not in the mood today.
Not in the mood?
Mood is a thing for cattle and women,
young pup.
Mood is not for fighting.
Even with the Weirding ways
your mother teaches you.
It's that old Bene Gesserit witch.
Something she said...
...or did.
The navigator is arriving.
Spacing Guild shuttle N-117
arriving central transportpart.
This zone is now restricted.
We'll be on our way to Arrakis soon.
It is said that they depend on the spice...
...and that without it, they can't navigate.
It is said.
They used to be human, didn't they?
Until the spice changed them.
I don't think anyone knows for sure.
I've never seen one.
No one has.
It's forbidden, Paul.
So don't endanger
our shipping privileges trying.
All non-Guild personnel,
please secure quarters.
Will Arrakis be as bad as they say, Thufir?
The storms, perhaps.
They can eat the flesh off your bones
as you stand.
The only thing that doesn't fear
an Arrakis storm is the giant worm.
It's not worms I worry about.
Your father is a formidable man, Paul.
Even the Emperor fears him.
I'd sooner cast my fate with him
than trust anything...
...some Bene Gesserit hag said.
Why do you hate them?
The Bene Gesserits?
I don't hate them.
I don't trust them.
I am a Mentat.
I trust logic and statistics,
not mysticism and prophecy.
Attention. All Atreides personnel,
restriction to quarters now in effect.
Please prepare for departure.
Spacing Guild navigator docking central
transport part. This zone is restricted.
Repeat.
Spacing Guild navigator docking central
transport part. This zone is restricted.
And so it begins.
The trap is set, the prey approaches.
A glorious winter is about to descend
on House Atreides and all it's heirs.
The centuries of humiliation,
visited upon my family...
...will finally be avenged.
But Arrakis was mine!
Shut up, Rabban.
I did what you said, Uncle.
I made the people cower.
I crushed that vile planet.
He said "squeeze," brother, not "crush."
Rabban aspires to rule House Harkonnen
one day, Feyd.
And yet he can't even rule himself.
Explain our plan, Mentat.
The plan is elegant and vicious, dear Baron.
Of course it is.
I designed it.
In order for the Empire to survive,
the spice must flow.
But the production
has become inconsistent.
In his wisdom, the Emperor decided
only one man is honest enough...
...and loyal enough to be trusted with
restoring the spice production adequately.
Duke Leto Atreides.
Temporarily interrupting
80 years of Harkonnen rule...
...and all the profits that go with it.
I said "temporarily," you moron.
It doesn't take long for Duke Leto
to believe he has Arrakis...
...firmly under control.
And then,
at the moment of his greatest confidence--
The traitor strikes.
A traitor? Who?
That remains my little secret for now.
What about the other great houses?
They're sure to protest.
Perverting common wisdom, Nephew,
is a mark of all great conspiracies.
You see, Nephews,
a popular man arouses jealousy...
...and Duke Leto is a very popular man.
The other great houses
will be glad to get rid of him...
...even though they would never admit it.
The spice...
...will flow.
The Emperor will be pleased
and House Harkonnen...
...will be more powerful than ever.
Alone and vulnerable,
at the edge of the universe...
...valiant Duke Leto
will finally come face to face with fear.
When I'm through,
he won't know who to trust...
...not even that Bene Gesserit witch
he sleeps with.
They'll all be turning on one another
like rats in the flood.
By the time the traitor is fully revealed...
...the fate of Atreides
will already be sealed.
My son always says
you have a feline grace, Duncan.
I didn't want to startle you, Milord.
The latest emigration reports.
They fear our regime
will be as bad as the Harkonnens'.
We're losing too many.
Spice hunters, drivers, weather scanners,
dune men, we'll need.
Should I persuade some to stay?
No.
I