Hunters of Dune - Brian Herbert [154]
“I disagree, sir. In order for your reputation to become such a potent tool, you first had to earn it.”
Teg smiled and kept his voice low, almost wistful as he admitted the truth in his own mythology. “Ah, and earn it I did.” He explained to the fascinated young man how he had also averted a massacre on Andioyu, a confrontation against the desperate dregs of a losing army that would surely have resulted in their deaths as well as the slaughter of tens of thousands of civilians. Much had hung in the balance on that day . . . .
“And then you died on Rakis fighting the Honored Matres.”
“As a point of fact, I died on Rakis to provoke the Honored Matres, as part of the overall Bene Gesserit plan. I played my role so that Duncan Idaho and Sheeana could escape. But after I was killed, the Sisterhood brought me back because they considered my Mentat skills and experiences to be invaluable—like your own. That is why they brought us all back.”
Thufir was completely engrossed. “I’ve read the history of my own life, and I’m convinced that I can learn much from you, Bashar.”
With a smile, Teg squeezed the boy’s shoulder. Thufir was abashed. “Have I said something amusing, sir?”
“When I look at you, how can I not remember that I myself learned a great deal from studying the famous warrior-Mentat of House Atreides? You and I could be very useful to each other.” The boy blushed.
When the debate began, Teg and Thufir turned their attention to the center of the convocation chamber. Sheeana remained seated in the imposing Advocate’s Chair, a carryover from when this vessel had been designed for other groups.
Garimi, as usual, was anxious to provoke a change in the status quo. She strutted forward to the podium and spoke without preamble, loud enough for everyone to hear. “We did not depart on a race or a journey. Our goal was to get away from Chapterhouse before the Honored Matres destroyed everything. Our intent was to preserve the core of the Sisterhood, and we have done so. But where are we going? That question has plagued us for nineteen years.”
Duncan stood. “We escaped from the true Enemy who was closing in. They still want us—that hasn’t changed.”
“Do they want us?” Garimi challenged. “Or do they want you?”
He shrugged. “Who can say? I am not willing to be captured or destroyed just to have your questions answered. Many of us have special talents on this ship—especially the ghola children—and we need all of our resources.”
The Rabbi spoke up. Though he was still fit and healthy, his beard and hair were grayer and longer now; behind spectacles, his bird-bright eyes were surrounded by a mesh of wrinkles. “My people and I did not choose any of this. We asked for rescue from Gammu, and we’ve been trapped in your folly ever since. When will it end? After forty years in the wilderness? When will you let us go?”
“And where would you like to go, Rabbi?” Sheeana’s voice was calm, but Teg thought it sounded somewhat patronizing.
“I would like us to consider—seriously consider—the planet we have just found. I am reluctant to call it Zion, but perhaps it is enough to call it home.” The old man looked back at his handful of followers, all of whom wore dark clothes and adhered to their old ways. Though aboard the Ithaca they no longer needed to hide their religion, the Jews mostly kept to themselves, unwilling to be assimilated by the other passengers. They had their own children, ten so far, and raised them as they saw fit.
Finally, Teg spoke. “According to our scans, this planet appears to be an excellent place to settle. The population is minimal. Our group of refugees would cause almost no disturbance at all to the local inhabitants. We could even choose an isolated spot and settle far from the natives.”
“How advanced is their civilization? Do they have technology?” Sheeana asked.
“At least at pre-Scattering levels,” Teg said. “Indications show minor local industries, a few electromagnetic transmissions. No apparent spaceflight capability, no visible spaceports. If they settled