Command Post

No flags on the table. No names on the file. Red wax. Black ink. Dirty work with a smile. Command post breathing. Dead lights on the wall. Baron’s fat grin watching cities fall. Emperor’s seal under dirty glass. Clean hands up top. We do the trash. Maps on the steel. Knives in the plan. House Atreides marked for the sand. No prayer. No warning. No noble fight. Just pull the switch and kill the night. Cut the lights! Seal the gate! Jam the comms! Make them wait! Command post! Black orders in the wire! Command post! Feed the palace to the fire! Command post! No honor. No face. No sound. Let the hawk come down! Sign it! Seal it! Burn it! Done! Sardaukar waiting with no crest on the chest. Borrowed knives. Imperial mess. Everybody knows. Nobody speaks. Paper-thin lies for the civilized freaks. Doctor bought. Shield codes sold. One soft door and the house turns cold. Atreides sleep under borrowed sky. We count the seconds till their banners die. Cut the lights! Seal the gate! Jam the comms! Open hate! Command post! Black orders in the wire! Command post! Feed the palace to the fire! Command post! No honor. No face. No sound. Let the hawk come down! The Duke walks in clean. The room already stinks. One hand shakes. One poison sinks. The Baron laughs low. The Emperor looks away. That’s how kings murder in the middle of the day. No witness. No mercy. No mistake. Black out Arrakeen! Cut their signal! Lock the hangars! Bring the knives! The Duke dies tonight! Command post! Black orders in the wire! Command post! Feed the palace to the fire! Command post! No honor. No face. No sound. Let the hawk come down! Command post! The Emperor hides the blade! Command post! The Baron gets paid! Command post! House Atreides hits the ground! Let the hawk come down! Transmission closed. Orders burned. No one saw a thing.