Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [112]
“I’ll issue the orders.” She paced within the decontamination bubble like a Laza tiger. The smells of disinfectant chemicals seeping through the air filters made her want to gag. She didn’t think the chamber’s replenishers were working properly. “How do we know your weapons will perform as you promise?”
“You provided the originals, and we duplicated them precisely. If the originals functioned, then these will, too.”
“The originals functioned. You’ve seen what’s left of Rakis and Richese!”
“Then you have nothing to fear.”
“From now on, I insist that we place Bene Gesserit inspectors and line supervisors in your manufactories. They will keep you accountable and guard against sabotage.”
Shayama Sen struggled with the demand, but could find no legitimate argument against it. “Provided your women do not interfere, we shall allow them access. Is that all?”
“We also need to witness a successful test before going into battle.”
Sen smiled again. “You would have us annihilate a world merely to prove a point? Hmm, I see Honored Matre methods persist in your New Sisterhood.” He chuckled. “I’ll give you full records of our previous tests and even arrange for a new demonstration, if you like.”
“We will review your data, Chief Fabricator. Transmit it to Chapterhouse, and arrange for a demonstration that I can see with my own eyes.”
He tapped his silicon fingernails again, an annoying nervous habit. “Very well. I’ll find a nice planetoid to blow up for your entertainment.”
Murbella pressed against the curved, transparent wall of her sphere. “And there’s one other thing I insist upon. Face Dancers have been found on many worlds, manipulating governments, weakening our defenses. Some even managed to infiltrate Chapterhouse. I need to have assurance that you are not a Face Dancer.”
Sen reeled backward in surprise. “You accuse me of being an Enemy, a shape-shifter operative?”
Murbella leaned against the solid wall, regarding him coolly. His indignation did nothing to convince her. She worked the internal controls, and a small, sealed container opened near the base of the Bene Gesserit chamber. It was a sterilization bin, an autoclave and chemical bath. Steam still curled from the package as it emerged for the Chief Fabricator to take.
“This is a testing device we have developed. After analyzing Face Dancer specimens found among our dead, we ran genetic tests and developed this infallible indicator. Right now, Chief Fabricator—as I watch—you will complete this test on yourself.”
“I will not.” He sniffed.
“You will, or you’ll receive none of our melange.”
Sen roamed again, frowning. “What is this test? What does it do?”
“It is mostly automated.” Murbella explained the principle to him and the easy steps. “As a bonus for you, we can allow Ix to produce these in great quantities. There are plenty of suspicious people who see Face Dancers everywhere. You could make a tidy profit selling these kits.”
Sen considered. “You may be right.”
While Murbella observed, he went through the motions, standing close enough to her bubble that she could watch his every movement. As far as the Reverend Mothers knew, the test could not easily be foiled, and the Chief Fabricator had had no time to prepare a deception. She waited with intense interest, and was relieved when the indicators declared him fully human. Shayama Sen was not a Face Dancer.
With an irritated expression on his face, he held the chemical tab up for her to see. “Are you satisfied now?”
“I am. And I advise you to perform this test on all of your chief engineers and team leaders. Ix is a likely target for the Enemy to infiltrate. Another reason for my Sisters to supervise your vital work for us.”
Sen looked genuinely disturbed, as if that possibility had not occurred to him. “I concede your point, Mother Commander. I would like to see those results myself.”
“Then include them when you send your data