It is a short story. I had it on the Dune Secondary Souces list until I took down all the new shit. Wormhole published another shortstory under its own cover too. Fremen Justice, or something like that?
No bright light, no sign of intelligence. Crawling into the smellhole, Stilgar stretched a leg down and located a fat arse, where he rested his boot. With his other foot he found a second idiot, and below that another. Standards going down. Ahead, he discerned low yellow light where the tunnel sloped to the right. He backed up and raised a hand, summoning the vengeful crowdto follow.
On the floor at the base of the rough steps he found an old bookshelf. Even with his nose plugs, he smelled raw crap. Bait for small preeqs? A fool's trap? He froze, looking for an outline. Had he already tripped a silent alarm? He heard footsteps ahead, and a drunken voice. "Got another one. Blow it to kulon-hell of Dune."
Stilgar and two Fremen darted into a side tunnel and drew their milky crysknives. Maula pistols would be far too gentle in the task ahead. When a pair of aspiring bestseller authors blundered past them, reeking of spice beer, Stilgar and his comrade Turok darted out and grabbed them from behind, yeah from where else if they were past them.
Before the hapless men could cry out, the Fremen shoved their shit stories back where they came from.
"The sky calls to us. If we do not destroy ourselves, we will one day venture to the stars."
- Carl Sagan
I'm still very proud of The Quarry but … let's face it; in the end the real best way to sign off would have been with a great big rollicking Culture novel.
- Iain Banks