Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [41]
After the proctors took the distraught young man away, Sheeana looked at Garimi and two other senior Sisters—Calissa and Elyen—who had observed the discussion. “I will use the sexual method on him, the same one that worked on the ghola of the Bashar. It is the best technique we know.”
Elyen said, “Your sexual imprinting unlocked the Bashar’s memories only because it precipitated a crisis in him. Teg’s mother had armed him against sexual imprinting. It wasn’t your technique that stirred up his past, but his sheer resistance to it.”
“Indeed. So for each of our gholas we’ll tailor an individualized agony that leverages their own fears and weaknesses.”
“How can sex break Yueh the way it broke the Bashar?” Garimi asked.
“Not the sex itself, but Yueh’s resistance to it. He’s terrified of remembering his past. If he believes we know how to unlock his memories, he’ll fight us with everything he has. As he fights, I will apply my most potent procedures, and he’ll spiral over the brink into complete madness.”
Garimi shrugged. “If it doesn’t work, we have other ways.”
THE ROOM WAS dim and the shadows cloying, which made Yueh’s terror more palpable. The chamber was devoid of furniture except for a padded mat on the floor, like those that the ghola children used during physical training sessions.
The witches had not explained what to expect. The young man knew from his studies that the process of regaining one’s past was painful. He was not a strong man, nor was he particularly brave. Even so, the prospect of pain did not petrify him nearly so much as the dread of remembering.
The door slid open with a gentle hiss of lubricated metal gliding in its tracks. From the corridor, blinding light flowed in, much brighter than the glowpanels in his cell. It silhouetted a woman’s figure—Sheeana? He turned to face her and could see only her outline, the sensual curves of her body no longer masked by flowing robes. When the door sealed behind her, his eyes adjusted to the more comfortable illumination.
When he saw that Sheeana was completely unclothed, his fear increased. “What is this?” His voice, torn by nervousness, came out as a squeak.
She stepped closer. “You will disrobe now.”
Barely a teenager, Yueh swallowed. “Not until you explain what is going to happen to me.”
She used the hurricane force of Bene Gesserit Voice. “You will disrobe now!”
In a spasmodic reaction, his arms and legs jerking, he tore off his clothes. Sheeana inspected him, running her eyes up and down his thin, naked body like a hawk assessing its prey. Yueh got the impression that she found him inadequate.
“Don’t hurt me,” he pleaded, and hated himself for saying it.
“Of course it will hurt, but the pain won’t be anything I inflict upon you.” She touched his shoulder. He felt an almost electric shock, but he was transfixed, unable to move. “Your own memories will do that.”
“I don’t want them back. I’ll fight you.”
“Fight all you wish. It will do you no good. We know how to awaken you.”
Yueh closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He tried to turn away, but she grasped his arms to hold him still, then released her grip and began touching him. The delicate strokings felt like the line of heat left by a lighted match down his arm and across his chest. “Your memories are stored within your cells. In order to awaken them, I must awaken your body.” She stroked him, and he shuddered, unable to draw away. “I shall teach your nerve endings to do things they’ve forgotten how to do.” Another jolt, and he gasped.
She touched him again, and his knees buckled, exactly as she wanted. Sheeana pushed him toward the mat on the floor. “I need to wrench you into the full awareness of every chromosome in every cell.”
“No.” The word sounded incredibly weak to him.
As she pressed herself against him, letting warm skin ignite his perspiration, Yueh tunneled backward into himself, trying to flee. From all he had learned of his past, he found one thing with which to anchor