Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [25]
Murbella tried to conceal her delight. “We need as many as you can produce. Instruct your factories to begin work on these weapons immediately.” She kept her voice hard, letting her impatience seep through. “But why did you need to see me in person, when you could easily have sent a message with this information?” Her lips quirked. “Do you require a pat on the back? Shall I give you my applause? There, you have it.”
The Ixian engineer remained bland. “Before we begin, Mother Commander, there is the matter of payment. Chief Fabricator Sen has instructed me to inform you that Ix must be compensated if we are to pull our profitable manufacturing centers off-line in order to create these Obliterators for your war.”
“My war? All humans must share the burden of the cost.”
“Unfortunately, we disagree. The only payment we will accept is spice. And the only source of spice is your New Sisterhood.”
“We have other ways to pay you.” Murbella tried to conceal her alarm. She wasn’t sure their fledgling spice operations could supply the necessary amount. And why would Ix care about spice, in particular? Sisterhood accounts in Guild banks could be drained; CHOAM could be convinced to supply important commodities; and soostones were more valuable than ever, especially since the recent turmoil on Buzzell.
When she offered these alternatives, though, the Ixian fabricator shook his head. “I have no flexibility in these negotiations, Mother Commander. It must be melange. No other coin will do.”
She ground her teeth, but had no patience for further delay. “Spice it is, then. Get started.”
DEPARTING FROM CHAPTERHOUSE, Khrone the Face Dancer felt content. The New Sisterhood had bowed to his demands, as he had known they would. Back on Ix, he had the ear of the Chief Fabricator, and Face Dancer replacements already controlled all key Ixian manufacturing centers.
Khrone found it ironic to demand payment in spice, since Ix had devoted so much technological effort into installing navigation machines in Guildships. Thanks to the mathematical compilers, melange was basically obsolete when it came to folding space, and the Navigators were fading swiftly.
But by insisting on such a huge payment in spice alone, and then hoarding the commodity, Khrone would remove a large amount of it from the market, making it even rarer. That, in turn, would force more and more ships to convert to the Ixian navigation compilers, because the Guild could not support the melange needs of their Navigators. Before long, with no way of supporting their own Navigators, the whole Spacing Guild would fall under Khrone’s control. He had worked it all out in exquisite detail.
In the meantime, he and his disguised workers would make it look as if they were providing everything the Sisterhood demanded. Let them fight useless battles while the real war was already won, right under their noses! Mother Commander Murbella would be quite satisfied—up until the moment a curtain of darkness fell on humankind. Permanently.
Every man makes errors. When a security chief makes them, though, there are consequences. People die.
—THUFIR HAWAT,
the original
The Bashar and his protégé marched down the corridors toward the no-ship’s life-support center. “I am deeply ashamed, Thufir. It has been almost a year, and I am incapable of finding a blatant saboteur and murderer.”
The young Hawat looked up at him, clearly idolizing the military genius. “We have a limited pool of suspects, and a discrete area in which he—or she—could hide. We’ve done everything possible, Bashar.”
“And yet the saboteur is here, somewhere.” Teg did not slow his pace. “Therefore, we have not done everything possible, because we still haven’t found the person responsible. The fact that there have been no further murders does not mean we can let down our guard. I am convinced our saboteur is still among us.”
The Ithaca was constantly being searched and monitored. Additional surveillance imagers had been installed, but the culprit