Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [185]
But the Enemy did nothing. “This is deeply unnerving,” she whispered.
“All backup systems ready, as you ordered, Mother Commander,” one of the pale young Sisters announced. “It may be our only chance to cause some damage.”
“We should open fire!” Administrator Gorus cried. “Destroy them while they are helpless.”
“No,” said another Sister. “The machines are trying to lure us from our defensive positions. It’s a trick.”
Everyone on the navigation bridge stared at their dark and quiet foe, afraid to breathe. The robot vessels just drifted out there in the cold void.
“They have no need to trick or trap us,” Murbella finally said. “Look at them! They could destroy us any time they like. It was foolish, impulsive Honored Matre violence that triggered this very war in the first place.” The Mother Commander narrowed her gaze, studying the overwhelming force of warships. Utter stillness. “This time, I will take a moment to understand before we just open fire.”
Murbella’s eyes blazed as she struggled to comprehend. She remembered when her eyes had been a hypnotic green—an alluring feature that had helped her ensnare Duncan. Strange, the thoughts that haunt you when death waits at your door . . .
At the time of Duncan’s escape from Chapterhouse, no one had known the identity of the outside Enemy. Now, the Oracle had said Duncan was on Synchrony at the heart of the thinking-machine empire. Had he managed to get away? If Duncan was still alive, she could forgive him anything. How she longed to see him again, and hold him!
The painful silence stretched out. Another excruciating minute, followed by another. Murbella had seen the thinking-machine forces on the move from planet to planet, and the aftermath of their strikes. She had seen the plagues they disseminated and had buried her own daughter Gianne with so many others in an unmarked grave out in the Chapterhouse desert. “No matter what the reason,” she said, “the machines have never been so vulnerable.”
From her nearby ship, Janess gruffly acknowledged. “If we are going to die in battle, why not take out as many of the Enemy as we can?”
Murbella had already prepared for this moment. She issued her orders, each word carrying a sharp edge. “All right, I don’t know why, but we’ve got an unexpected reprieve. We may be few, but we’ll be like D-wolves with sharp fangs. We’ll rely on our own eyes and skills.”
One of the Guildsmen who had rushed aboard the ship at the last minute reacted with alarm. He was a bald and pasty-faced man with tattoos on his scalp. “Aiming our weapons will require precision maneuvering, Mother Commander! We can’t do it without assistance.”
Murbella shot him a wilting glare. “I’d rather rely on my eyes than on Ixian systems. I’ve already been deceived once today. Target the largest ships. Destroy their weapons, disable their engines, and move on to others.”
Janess transmitted to the clustered defenders, “The wreckage of all those Enemy ships can provide cover if the machines fire back at us.”
The bald Guildsman objected again. “Every piece of debris is a navigational hazard. No human can react fast enough. We need the Ixian devices back online, at least in a limited fashion.”
Even Gorus looked at him strangely. Suddenly, the bald Guildsman shouted, turned from his technical station, and collapsed. Near him, without a sound, another of the new crewmen dropped dead in his tracks. A third slumped over on the upper navigation deck.
Suspecting that their ships were under some kind of invisible attack from a silent, deadly weapon, the Sisters reacted quickly, trying to determine what was happening. Murbella hurried to the tattooed Guildsman, rolled him over, and watched his puttylike face shift to the blank visage of a Face Dancer.
Gorus looked around as if he finally realized how he had been betrayed. The other two fallen bodies also shifted. All Face Dancers! Murbella glared at the Administrator. “You guaranteed me that everyone had been tested!”
“I spoke the truth!