He shook his head. "It wasn't suicide." Or was it? He had meant to die, but it wasn't for himself or his own needs. It was for the one thing he would always die: House Atreides. The preservation of the family that had given him a new life. Twice. And now twice he had sacrificed himself to save the family, mostly from itself. That was where the facts led him. The Regent, his wife, had led the family down a path from which it might never recover. Either way, he wouldn't there to see if his plan worked. He was sure it would, but there was always the chance that his plan would fail.
Duncan tensed a bit and drew in a sharp breath when the doctor poked his arm. Of course, that breath brought another stab of pain. But then whatever was being forced into his vein began to kick in and Duncan felt himself relaxing against his better judgement. Drugged. HE was being drugged. But then he could feel the man's hands on him and he knew those pokes and prods should be hurting him. They didn't feel good, but they didn't hurt so that was something. Whatever the doctor had given him was making it hard for him to concentrate. While the man worked Duncan's mind swirled with thoughts of all kinds.
In a hotel.
But there had been no indication of where that hotel was located. What planet was he on? What system was this? How had he gotten from Sietch Tabr to this hotel without bleeding out during the trip? Who had decided he should make this trip? Why wasn't he dead yet? How had Stilgar missed every vital organ? He was sure the blade was aimed accurately and he had expected to feel it pierce his diaphragm. He realised that it hadn't been quite as deep as it should have been.
"How did I get here? Where is the ship to take me home again?" Should he even try to get home again? What did he have to go back to anymore? He'd made it impossible for the Fremen to take him in again, and if they couldn't force Alia out of power then it wouldn't matter. He could feel his body wanting to sleep but he fought that instinct. He needed to have answers.