Hunters of Dune - Brian Herbert [57]
Initially, Uxtal was able to isolate the general bloodline, then narrow it down to specifics, a planet of origin, an extended family . . . and then a definite family. Finally he backtracked the lineage to a specific historical person. The result startled him, and he nearly deleted the answer before anyone could see. But he was sure someone must be observing him, and if he was caught trying to hide information, the Honored Matres would treat him very harshly.
Instead, he faced his own dizzying questions. Why had the old Tleilaxu Masters preserved those particular cells? What possible purpose could they have imagined? And what other remarkable cells had been inside the destroyed nullentropy capsule? Too bad the Honored Matres had destroyed all the bodies, burning them or feeding them to sligs.
Khrone would return soon enough. Then maybe the Face Dancers would take their ghola baby away, and Uxtal could be free. Or maybe they would just kill him and be done with it. . . .
After its carefully monitored gestation period, the decanting of the infant was imminent. Quite imminent. Uxtal spent most of his days now in the axlotl room, both fearful and fascinated. He bent over the bloated female tank, testing the unborn baby’s heartbeat, his movements. The child frequently let loose vicious kicks, as if he hated the fleshy cell that contained him. Not surprising, but alarming nevertheless.
When the day arrived, Uxtal summoned his assistants. “If the baby is not born healthy, I will send you to the torture wing—” He suddenly gasped, remembering other duties, and left the befuddled assistants standing by the pregnant tank as he rushed into the new adjacent laboratory wing.
There, among the screams, moans, and a tiny trickle of precursor chemicals for spice alternative, Hellica was waiting impatiently for him. For some time she had amused herself by watching the spice “harvesting” process, but now, seeing Uxtal, she snaked toward him.
He averted his eyes, stammered. “I am s-sorry, Matre Superior. The ghola is about to be born, and I was distracted. I should have ignored all other responsibilities as soon as you arrived.” He muttered a silent, frantic prayer that she wouldn’t murder him then and there. The Face Dancers would be quite upset if she killed him before he could decant the child, wouldn’t they?
When Hellica’s eyes flashed dangerously, he wanted to run. “I do not believe you are sufficiently convinced of your place in this new order, little man. It is time you are bonded—before that ghola is born. I need to rely on you. You will never again lose track of your priorities.”
Uxtal became more aware of the swell of her breasts and the way she moved in the tight leotard. She seemed to project a hypnotic sexuality. Their gazes locked, but he experienced no arousal.
“Once I make you dependent on my pleasures,” she continued, massaging his face gently with her fingers, “I will have your full dedication to my project. With the ghola baby out of the way, you will have no other excuses.”
Uxtal felt his pulse accelerate. What would she do once she found out what Khrone had done to him?
A shout came from the main laboratory, followed by the brief indignant squall of a baby. Uxtal’s heart leapt into his throat. “The child has been born! How could they do it without me?” Uxtal tried to pull away from Hellica. Terrified that his assistants had proved they could do their work independently, he didn’t dare let anyone believe he might be unnecessary. “Please, Matre Superior, let me make certain my foolish assistants did nothing wrong.”
Fortunately, Hellica seemed as interested as he was. The Tleilaxu man scuttled out of the new wing and rushed to the now deflated axlotl tank. With a shy but confused smile, one of the assistants held up the dripping, apparently healthy infant by one foot. The Matre Superior strode over,