Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [79]
She could prepare her womb, ovulate at will, even choose the sex of her child from the moment the sperm and egg united. The Bene Gesserit wanted a daughter from her, a Harkonnen daughter, and Mohiam would deliver, as instructed.
With only limited details of the numerous breeding programs, Mohiam did not understand why the Bene Gesserit needed this particular combination of genes, why she had been selected to bear the child and why no other Harkonnen could produce a viable offspring for Bene Gesserit plans. She was just doing her duty. To her the Baron was a tool, a sperm donor who had to play his part.
Mohiam lifted her dark skirt and lay back on the bed, propping her head up to look at him. “Come, Baron, let us waste no more time. After all, it’s such a small thing.” She let her gaze drop down to his crotch.
As he flushed with rage, she continued in a soft voice, “I have the ability to increase your pleasure, or to deaden it. Either way, the results will be the same to us.” She smiled with her thin lips. “Just think of the hidden melange stockpiles you’ll be able to keep without the Emperor’s knowledge.” Her voice grew harder. “On the other hand, just try to imagine what old Elrood will do to House Harkonnen if he finds out you’ve been cheating him all along.”
Scowling, the Baron fumbled with his robe and lurched toward the bed. Mohiam closed her eyes and muttered a Bene Gesserit benediction, a prayer to calm herself and to focus her bodily actions and her inner metabolism.
The Baron was more nauseated than aroused. He couldn’t bear to look at Mohiam’s naked form. Fortunately she kept most of her clothes on, as did he. She worked with her fingers until he stiffened, and he kept his eyes closed during the entire mechanical act. Behind his eyes, he had no choice but to fantasize about earlier conquests, the pain, the power . . . anything to take his mind from the revolting and messy act of male-female intercourse.
It wasn’t lovemaking by any means, just a tired ritual between two bodies in order to exchange genetic material. For both of them it was barely even sex.
But Mohiam got what she wanted.
At his one-way private observation window, Piter de Vries moved silently, surreptitiously. As a Mentat he had learned how to glide like a shadow, how to see without being seen. An ancient law of physics claimed that the mere act of observation changed parameters. But any good Mentat knew how to observe broader issues while remaining invisible, unknown to the subjects of his scrutiny.
De Vries had often watched the Baron’s sexual escapades through this peephole. Sometimes the acts disgusted him, occasionally they fascinated . . . and rarer still, they gave the Mentat ideas of his own.
Now, he silently kept his eyes to the tiny observation holes, drinking in details as the Baron was forced to copulate with the Bene Gesserit witch. He watched his master with great amusement, enjoying the man’s utter discomfiture. He had never seen the Baron so nonplussed. Oh, how he wished he had found time to set up the recording apparatus so he could enjoy this again and again.
The moment she’d made her demands, de Vries had known the unavoidable outcome. The Baron had been a perfect pawn, utterly ensnared, with no choice in the matter.
But why?
Even with his great Mentat prowess, de Vries could not understand what the Sisterhood wanted with House Harkonnen or its offspring. Surely, the genetics weren’t that spectacular.
For now, though, Piter de Vries just enjoyed the show.
Many inventions have selectively improved particular skills or abilities, emphasizing one aspect or another. But no achievement has ever scratched the complexity or adaptability of the human mind.
—Ikbhan’s Treatise on the Mind, Volume II
On one side of the faux-stone practice floor in the Ixian Grand Palais, Leto stood beside Guard Captain Zhaz, panting. The fight instructor was an angular man with bristly brown hair, thick eyebrows, and a square-cut beard. Like his students, Zhaz wore no shirt, only beige fighting shorts. The smell of sweat and