Hunters of Dune - Brian Herbert [55]
By the time grace was spoken after their meals, then the happy Hallel and the songs, she discovered that her cheeks were wet with tears. Jacob saw this with a hushed awe. The service was moving, and with her perspective it seemed more meaningful than ever. Her weeping, though, came from the knowledge that she would not see another Seder. . . .
Much later, after the benediction and the last reading, when the small party had finished eating and departed, Rebecca remained behind in the Rabbi’s quarters. She helped the old man put away the paraphernalia of the service; the awkward distance between them told her that he knew something was troubling her. The Rabbi held his silence, and Rebecca didn’t offer to speak. She could sense him looking at her with his flashing eyes.
“Another Passover service aboard this no-ship. Four so far!” he finally said, falsely conversational. “Is this any better than being hidden like rodents under the ground while Honored Matre searchers try to uncover us?” When the old man was uncomfortable, Rebecca knew he resorted to complaints.
“How quickly you have forgotten our months of terror cramped in that hidden chamber with our air systems failing, the waste-recycling tanks overfull, the food supplies dwindling,” she reminded him. “Jacob couldn’t fix it. We would all have died soon, or been forced to slip away.”
“Maybe we could have eluded the terrible women.” His words were automatic, and Rebecca could tell he didn’t believe them himself.
“I think not. Overhead in the ash pit, the Honored Matre hunters were using their scanning devices, probing the soil, digging for us. They were close. They suspected. You know it was only a matter of time before they discovered our hiding place. Our enemies always find our hiding places.”
“Not all of them.”
“We were lucky the Bene Gesserit chose to attack Gammu when they did. It was our chance, and we took it.”
“The Bene Gesserit! Daughter, you always defend them.”
“They saved us.”
“Because they were obligated to. And that obligation has now made us lose you. You are forever tainted, girl. All those memories you took within your mind corrupted you. If only you could forget them.” He hung his head in a melodramatic gesture of misery, rubbing his temples. “I shall forever feel guilt because of what I made you do.”
“I did it willingly, Rabbi. Do not go looking for guilt that you did not earn. Yes, all those memories wrought great changes in me. Even I did not guess the magnitude of that weight from the past.”
“They rescued us, but now we are lost again, wandering and wandering on this ship. What is to become of us? We have begun to have children, but what good does it do? Two babies so far. When will we find a new home?”
“This is like our people’s sojourn in the desert, Rabbi.” Rebecca actually remembered parts of it. “Perhaps God will lead us to the land of milk and honey.”
“And perhaps we will vanish forever.”
Rebecca had little patience for his constant moaning, his wringing of hands. It had been easier to tolerate the old man before, to give him the benefit of the doubt and let her faith counsel her. She had respected the Rabbi, believed everything he said, never thought to question. She longed for that innocence and confidence again, but it was gone. The Lampadas Horde had made sure of that. Rebecca’s thoughts were now clearer, her decision irrevocable.
“My Sisters have asked for volunteers. They have . . . a need.”
“A need?” The Rabbi raised his bushy eyebrows, pushed his spectacles back up.
“The volunteers will submit to a certain process. They will become axlotl tanks, receptacles to bear the children they have determined are necessary for our survival.”
The Rabbi looked angry and revolted. “It is clearly the work of evil.”
“Is it evil if it saves all of us?”
“Yes! No matter what excuses the witches give.”
“I do not