Hunters of Dune - Brian Herbert [150]
Trapped in her position, Doria continued to come out to the desert, but she had grown impatient over the years. Am I sentenced to babysit this planet forever? Is this my punishment for the single mistake of killing fat old Bellonda?
Ah, you admit it was a mistake now? prodded the annoying voice within.
Quiet, you bloated old fool.
She could never get away from Bellonda inside her head. The constant taunting reminded Doria of her own shortcomings and even offered unwanted advice in how to fix them. Like Sisyphus, Doria would roll that boulder up a hill for the rest of her life. And now she found her body growing fat as well.
Inside her head, Bellonda actually seemed to be humming. Presently, the internal voice said, In ancient times on Terra, people had something called a doorbell, which a visitor rang when coming to a door.
“So what?” Doria said aloud, then quickly turned her face away from the trainees, who looked at her oddly.
So, that is our combined name: Doria-Bellonda. DorBell. Ding-dong, ding-dong, can I come in?
No, damn you. Go away!
Fuming, Doria concentrated on the analytical instruments. Why couldn’t the Mother Commander find a dedicated planetologist somewhere out in all the surviving worlds of humanity? On her scanners, she saw merely numbers and electronic diagrams that were of no real interest to her.
Each day for six infuriating years, Doria had gritted her teeth and tried to ignore Bellonda’s inner nagging. It was the only way she could go about her tasks. Murbella had told her to subjugate herself to the needs of her Sisters, but like so many Bene Gesserit concepts, “subjugation” worked better in theory than in practical application.
The Mother Commander had been able to mold others into what she wanted, forging the united Sisterhood, even retraining and incorporating some of the captured rebel Honored Matres. Though Doria had insinuated herself into a position of power beside Murbella, she could not completely suppress the natural violence embedded in her nature, the quick and decisive responses that often resulted in bloodshed. It was not in her nature to compromise, but pure survival dictated that she become what the Mother Commander wanted her to be. Damn her! Has she actually succeeded in making me a Bene Gesserit, after all?
Bellonda-within chuckled again.
Ultimately, Doria wondered if she would have to face off against Murbella herself. Over the years, many others had challenged the Mother Commander, and all had died in the attempt. Doria did not fear for her life, but she did fear the possibility of making the wrong decision. Yes, Murbella was stern and maddeningly unpredictable, but after almost two decades, it was not so clear that her merger scheme had been wrong.
Suddenly Doria tore her mind from its preoccupation, and she noticed the distant mounds of sand in motion, ripples drawing closer and closer.
The voice of Bellonda harangued her. Are you blind as well as stupid? You have stirred up the worms with all your stomping around.
“They are stunted.”
That may be, but they are still dangerous. You are as arrogant as ever, thinking you can defeat anything that gets in your way. You refuse to acknowledge a real threat.
“You weren’t much of a threat,” Doria muttered.
One of the trainees cried out, pointing to the two moving mounds out on the sand. “Sandworms! Traveling together!”
“Over there, too!” another said.
Doria saw that worms were all around them and closing in as if drawn by a common signal. The women scrambled to take readings. “Gods! They’re twice the size of the average specimens we recorded two months ago.”
Inside Doria’s head, Bellonda harped, Stupid,