Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [103]
Elrood raised a ring-adorned hand that trembled with faint, uncontrollable spasms. “Very well, we will hear briefly what this Tleilaxu has to say. Briefly, under pain of severe punishment if we determine he has wasted our precious time. Watch, and learn.” The Emperor slid a sidelong glance at Shaddam, then took a sip of the spice beer at his side. “This shouldn’t take much time.”
How true, Father. You don’t have much time left, Shaddam thought, still smiling attentively and innocently.
“My words require privacy, my Lord Emperor,” Ajidica said, “and the utmost discretion.”
“I will determine that,” Elrood snapped. “Speak of your plan.”
The Tleilaxu Master folded his hands in the voluminous sleeves of his maroon robes. “Rumors are like a disease epidemic, Sire. Once they escape, they spread from person to person, often with deadly effect. Better to take simple initial precautions than be forced into eradication measures at a later date.” Ajidica fell silent, standing rigid, and refused to speak further until the audience chamber had been emptied.
Impatiently, the Emperor gestured to dismiss all the functionaries, pages, ambassadors, jesters, and guards. Sardaukar security men stationed themselves at the doorways, where they could protect the throne, but everyone else departed, muttering and shuffling. Humming privacy screens were erected to prevent any potential eavesdroppers from listening in.
Fenring and Shaddam sat at the foot of the throne, pretending to be intent students, though they were both in their thirties. Looking frail and battling illness, the old Emperor indicated for them to remain as observers, and the Tleilaxu man did not object.
In all this time, Ajidica’s hard gaze never strayed from Elrood. The Emperor looked back at the little man, feigning boredom. Finally satisfied with the privacy precautions, and ignoring the Emperor’s distaste for him and his race, Hidar Fen Ajidica spoke.
“We Bene Tleilax have continued experiments in all areas of genetics, organic chemistry, and mutations. In our factories we have recently developed highly unorthodox techniques to synthesize, shall we say, unusual substances.” His words were clipped and efficient, providing no more detail than necessary. “Our initial results indicate that a synthetic could be fashioned that, in all important chemical properties, is identical to melange.”
“Spice?” Elrood now gave the Tleilaxu his full attention. Shaddam noticed a twitching tic in his father’s right cheek below his eye. “Created in a laboratory? Impossible!”
“Not impossible, my Lord. Given the proper time and conditions for development, this artificially created spice could become an inexhaustible supply, mass-produced and inexpensive—and it could be earmarked exclusively for House Corrino, if you wish.”
Elrood leaned forward like a mummified carrion bird. “Such a thing has never been possible before.”
“Our analysis shows that the spice is an organically based substance. Through careful experimentation and development, we believe our axlotl tanks can be modified to produce melange.”
“The same way you grow gholas from dead human cells?” the Emperor said, scowling with revulsion. “And clones?”
Intrigued and surprised, Shaddam glanced over at Fenring. Axlotl tanks?
Ajidica continued to focus on Elrood. “In . . . effect, my Lord.”
“Why come to me?” Elrood asked. “I should think the diabolical Tleilaxu would create a spice substitute for themselves and leave the Imperium at their mercy.”
“The Bene Tleilax are not a mighty race, Sire. If we discovered how to produce our own melange, and kept the secret for ourselves, we know it would bring down the wrath of the Imperium. You yourself would send in Sardaukar, tear the secret from our grasp, and destroy us. The Spacing Guild and CHOAM would be happy to assist you—and the Harkonnens, too, would defend their spice monopoly at all costs.” Ajidica gave a thin, humorless smile.
“It’s good to see that you understand your subordinate position,” Elrood said, resting his bony elbow on the arm of the