Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [105]
Desperate, Yueh looked at him. “I tested the samples you gave me—the baby was de Vries!”
The old man backed away like a startled bird. He looked indignant at the very suggestion he might have provoked the unstable young man. “Yes, I gave you a sample I obtained from the axlotl lab. But I merely raised a question—and never suggested that you should commit murder! Murder! I am a man of God, and you are a doctor—a Suk doctor! Who would imagine . . . ?” He shook his head. His gray beard looked especially wild today. “That tank you killed might have been Rebecca! I could never suggest such a thing.”
Everyone in the room exchanged glances, silently agreeing that Yueh must be the saboteur after all.
“It wasn’t me,” he said. “Not the other times. Why would I confess to this but deny the others? My crime is the same.”
“Not the same at all,” Jessica said in a knotted voice. “This was my Duke . . . .” She turned and left, while Yueh stared beseechingly after her.
Each human, no matter how altruistic or peaceful he seems, carries the capacity to commit tremendous violence. I find this quality particularly fascinating, especially because it can lie dormant for extended periods and then flare up. For instance, consider their traditionally docile women. When these life-givers decide instead to take lives, it is a beautiful ferocity to behold.
—ERASMUS,
Laboratory Notes
On Chapterhouse, the meeting of Reverend Mothers degenerated quickly to murderous intent.
Eyes flashing, Kiria nudged the chairdog away from her as she stood. “Mother Commander, you have to accept certain facts. Chapterhouse is more than decimated. The Ixians still haven’t produced the Obliterators they promised. We simply can’t win this fight. As soon as we admit that, we can begin to make realistic plans.”
Eyes bleary, Murbella gave the former Honored Matre a level look. “Such as?” The Mother Commander dealt with so many ongoing crises, obligations, and unsolvable problems that she could barely concentrate on the reports coming to the mostly empty Keep. The plague had passed on Chapterhouse, so everyone who was going to die was already dead. With the exception of the isolated inhabitants of the deep desert Shakkad Station, the only survivors on the planet were Reverend Mothers.
All the while, the thinking machines continued to move through space, penetrating deeper into the Old Empire—though by sending scout probes and their plagues here to Chapterhouse, they had broken their previously predictable progression. Omnius must understand the significance of the New Sisterhood; a key victory here could stop the rest of humanity’s scattered fighting.
“Let’s take what we need,” Kiria said, “copy our Archives, and vanish into the great unknown to create seed colonies. The thinking machines are relentless, but we can be swift and unpredictable. For humanity’s survival and the preservation of the Sisterhood, we must disperse, reproduce, and remain alive.” The other Reverend Mothers watched guardedly.
Anger boiled within Murbella. “Those old attitudes have proved wrong time and again. We can’t survive simply by running or by breeding faster than Omnius can kill us.”
“Many Sisters believe as I do—the ones still living, that is. You’ve led us now for almost a quarter of a century, and your policies have failed. Most of Chapterhouse is dead. This crisis forces us to consider new alternatives.”
“Old alternatives, you mean. There is too much work ahead of us to rehash this tired debate. Is the identification test for Face Dancer genetics ready for distribution yet? That test is critical for all key planetary governments. Our scientists have studied the cadavers for weeks, and we must send—”
“Don’t change the subject, Mother Commander! If you won’t make the rational decision, if you can’t see we need to adapt to circumstances, then I challenge you for leadership.”
In astonishment, Laera backed away from the table, while Janess watched her mother, showing no emotion. After the plague had run its course, the female bashar had returned from