Hunters of Dune - Brian Herbert [189]
Pieces clicked into place like chits on a counting machine. If these Handlers were new-generation Face Dancers, then they were not allies after all, but enemies. Just because both the Handlers and the Bene Gesserit hated Honored Matres did not necessarily mean that the two shared a common cause.
Roaring, the black-striped Futar leapt into the fight and attacked the traitorous Hrrm. The two growling Futars fought, thrashing and flailing in a tumble of claws and teeth. Sheeana could do nothing to help him, turning to see another threat.
Several of the bandit-masked men also reverted to their Face Dancer shapes, no longer bothering to maintain the disguises. All of the Handlers seemed to be Face Dancers.
Orak Tho had wanted to come aboard the no-ship, and now the reasons were obvious: The Handlers intended to capture the Ithaca. For the Enemy! The Enemy had always been after the no-ship. That was why the Chief Handler was so willing to kill the two of them now: Face Dancers could easily take the place of Sheeana and Teg, taking not only their appearance but also memory and personality imprints. Face Dancers could work from within to accomplish what the hunters had not been able to do from afar. She had to warn Duncan!
Sheeana struck at another Handler, driving him back into his comrades. As Teg fought beside her, his Mentat awareness processed the same data, and Sheeana was sure he came to the same conclusions. “They are all connected: the old man and woman, the net, the Handlers, the Face Dancers. Let’s go—at least one of us has to live!”
Sheeana knew another sickening truth. “Thufir and the Rabbi are probably dead. That’s why the Handlers separated us. Divide and kill.”
From the edge of the tall aspens, two more hunting Futars bounded into the fray, instinctively drawn to fight against Hrrm, who had turned on them. It was inconceivable that a Futar had attacked a Handler!
Sheeana didn’t see how she and the Bashar could possibly defeat all the opponents arrayed against them. Hrrm continued to fight, though he could not last much longer. He surged up, grasped Black Stripe’s neck, and sank his claws into the throat, tearing out the larynx in a stringy, bloody lump. Even as his life’s blood gushed out, the striped Futar continued to snap with sharp teeth. Then Hrrm went down under the additional Futars in a snarling mass of claws and torn hairy skin.
In a matter of moments, the Futars would turn on her and Teg. “Miles!” Sheeana struck a Handler full in the face, and he went down.
Beside her, Teg suddenly blurred, moving with such speed that she could no longer keep track of him. It was as if a wind rushed through the aspens. All of the Handlers closing in on them dropped to the ground like felled trees. Sheeana barely had time to blink.
Teg reappeared beside her, gasping for breath and looking drained. “Come with me. Back to the lighter. Now!”
Her questions about him could wait. She ran with him. Hrrm had bought enough time for Sheeana to escape, and she wouldn’t let his sacrifice be wasted.
Behind them came the noises of more Futars, their hands and feet crackling in the dry leaves and twigs that covered the forest floor. Would the other three from the no-ship help her, as Hrrm had? She could not count on it. She had seen them take down combat-hardened Honored Matres, and she didn’t think much of her own chances against so many of them.
No doubt, more Handlers would be waiting at the wooden city-towers. Some had probably surrounded the lighter already. How coordinated was Orak Tho’s plan? Were all Handlers really Face Dancers, or had they simply been infiltrated?
Sheeana and Teg dashed past the Handlers’ main settlement. More raccoon-faced people were emerging from the cylindrical wooden structures, slow to react to the changed situation, all of them closing in.
Ahead in the clearing, the small ship sat waiting for them. As she had feared, two tall Handlers stood in front of the hatch, carrying powerful stun-goads. Sheeana prepared for a life-or-death