Hunters of Dune - Brian Herbert [42]
Duncan never needed to see them again, never needed to think about Murbella. He had lost her, and could never forget.
Murbella might be gone forever, but Scytale’s nullentropy tube could bring back Duncan’s old friends. Paul, Gurney, Thufir, and even Duke Leto.
Now, as he toweled himself off, he felt a surge of hope.
FOUR YEARS AFTER
ESCAPE FROM CHAPTERHOUSE
It is not cowardly or paranoid to jump at shadows if a real threat exists.
—MOTHER COMMANDER MURBELLA,
private journals
T
he large unidentified battleship appeared in dead space far outside of the Chapterhouse system. It hung there, scanning cautiously before moving closer. Using long-range sensors, an incoming Guildship detected the vessel beyond any planetary orbit, a strange ship lurking where it shouldn’t have been.
Always concerned about the Enemy, never knowing when or how the first attacks might occur, the Mother Commander dispatched two Sisters in a swift scout ship to investigate. The women approached tentatively, making their intention apparent in a nonthreatening way.
The strange battleship opened fire and destroyed the scout as soon as it came within range. The pilot’s last transmission said, “It’s a warship of some kind. Looks like it’s been through seven hells, severely damaged—” And then the message cut off in a flash of static. . . .
In a grim mood, Murbella assembled her military commanders to formulate a swift and massive response. No one knew the identity or armaments of the intruder, whether it was the long-expected Outside Enemy or some other power. But it was a definite threat.
Many of the former Honored Matres, including Doria, had been spoiling for a fight in the four years since the Battle of Junction. Simmering with violence, the Honored Matres felt that their military abilities were growing stagnant. Now, Murbella would give them a chance to make up for it.
In a matter of hours, twenty attack ships—which had been part of the Chapterhouse space navy since the days of Bashar Miles Teg—accelerated out of the system. Murbella led them, despite the warnings and complaints of some of her more timid Bene Gesserit advisors, who wanted her to stay out of danger. She was the Mother Commander, and she would take charge of the mission. It was her way.
As the New Sisterhood’s ships swooped closer, Murbella studied the images resolving on her screens, noting the dark scoring along the intruder’s hull, the bright emissions of power leakage from damaged engines, the large holes blasted where contained atmosphere had vented into space.
“It’s a wreck,” transmitted Bashar Wikki Aztin from her own attack ship.
“But a deadly one,” noted an adjutant. “It can still shoot.”
Like a wounded predator, Murbella thought. It was a large craft, much bigger than her attack ships. Studying scanner screens, she recognized part of the design as well as a battle sigil on the heat-damaged hull. “It’s an Honored Matre ship, but not from any of the assimilated groups.”
“Does it belong to one of the rebel enclaves?”
“No . . . this is from beyond the edge of the Scattering,” she transmitted. “From far beyond.”
Over the decades, a great many Honored Matres had swept into the Old Empire like locusts, but their numbers were far greater out among the distant worlds. Honored Matres existed in independent cells, isolated from other groups not only for their own protection, but from a natural xenophobia.
Apparently the strange vessel had blundered into this section of space. Judging by its appearance, the battleship had been too severely damaged to make it all the way to its intended destination. Chapterhouse, specifically? Or just any habitable planet?
“Remain outside of firing range,” she warned her commanders, then adjusted her commsystem. “Honored Matres! I am Murbella, the legitimate Great Honored Matre, having assassinated my predecessor. We are not your enemy, but we do not recognize your ship or its markings. You destroyed