Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [32]
When Murbella announced her intent, Laera cried, “Mother Commander, that’s not possible. We need you here—there’s so much to do!”
“I represent more than the New Sisterhood. Since no one else will step up to the plate, I am responsible for the whole human race.” She sighed. “Somebody has to be.”
Our no-ship holds many secrets, yes, but not nearly the number we hold inside ourselves.
—LETO II,
the ghola
Leto II and Thufir Hawat had never known each other in their original lifetimes. To them, that was not a disadvantage. It left them free to form a friendship without any expectations or preconceptions.
Nine-year-old Leto hurried ahead, down the corridor. “Come with me, Thufir. Now that nobody’s watching, I can show you a special place.”
“Another one? Do you spend all your days exploring instead of studying?”
“If you’re going to be deputy chief of security, you need to know everything about the Ithaca. Maybe we’ll find your saboteur down here.” Leto turned sharply right, dropped into a small emergency lift, then paused at a dim, lower deck, where everything seemed larger and darker. He led Thufir to a sealed hatch that was posted with warnings and restrictions in half a dozen languages. Despite the locks, he opened it with barely a pause.
Thufir looked puzzled, even a little offended. “How did you bypass security so easily?”
“This ship is old, and systems break down all the time. Nobody even knows this one failed.” He ducked into the low passageway.
The tunnel on the other side was a whistling, cool air channel. Up ahead the roaring grew louder, and the wind became powerful. Thufir sniffed. “Where does it go?”
“To an air-exchange filtration system.” The passages were smooth and curving—like worm tunnels. A shiver brushed across Leto’s skin, perhaps from a memory of when he had been joined with numerous sandtrout, from when he was the God Emperor of Dune, the Tyrant. . . .
The two reached the central recyclers where large fans drove the air through thick curtains of filter mats, scrubbing out particulates and purifying the atmosphere. Breezes tugged at the boys’ hair. Ahead, sheets of filtration material blocked further passage. The lungs of the ship, replenishing and redistributing oxygen.
Recently, Thufir had begun to mark his lips with a cranberry-red stain. As the pair stood in the bowels of the ship, listening to the roaring wind, Leto finally asked, “Why do you do that to your mouth?”
Self-consciously, the fourteen-year-old rubbed his lips. “My original used the sapho drug, which made stains like these. The Bashar wants me to live the part. He says he’s preparing to awaken my memories.” Thufir didn’t sound entirely pleased with the situation. “Sheeana has been talking about forcing me to remember. She has some special technique to trigger a ghola’s awakening.”
“Aren’t you excited at the prospect? Thufir Hawat was a great man.”
The other boy remained preoccupied and troubled. “It’s not that, Leto. I really don’t want my memories back, but Sheeana and the Bashar have their minds made up.”
“That’s why you were created.” Leto was baffled. “Why wouldn’t you want your past life? The Master of Assassins would not be afraid of the ordeal.”
“I’m not afraid. I’d just rather be the person I choose to become, and not emerge fully formed. I don’t feel I’ve earned it.”
“Trust me, they’ll make you earn it, once you become the real Thufir again.”
“I am the real Thufir! Or do you doubt that, too?”
Thinking of the restless worm that crouched inside him, aware of all the atrocious things he would soon remember, Leto understood completely.
By following the same beliefs and making the same decisions, one wears Life’s path into a circular rut, going nowhere, accomplishing nothing, making no progress. With God’s help, though, we can turn a sharp corner in the circle and achieve enlightenment.
—The Cant of the Shariat
At last Waff was ready to release his new worms, and Buzzell was a convenient ocean planet on Edrik’s standard trade route. A perfect test bed.
The giant vessel carried