Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [68]
—SHEEANA,
confidential no-ship journals
Flying ever onward, the Ithaca reeled from the recent spate of damage. And the saboteur continued to elude them. What more can we do to track him down? Even Duncan’s most thorough Mentat projections offered no new suggestions.
Miles Teg and Thufir Hawat once again dispatched teams to inspect, and even ransack, the quarters of all passengers, hoping to find incriminating evidence. The Rabbi and his people complained about purported violations of their privacy, but Sheeana demanded their full cooperation. To the extent possible, Teg had been closing down sections of the immense vessel with electronic barricades, but the clever saboteur was able to get through anyway.
Assuming no further incidents, with the life-support, airrecirculation, and food-growth systems crippled, the passengers could not last more than a few months without stopping somewhere to replenish the stores. But it had been years since they had found another suitable world.
Duncan wondered: Is someone trying to destroy us . . . or drive us to a particular place?
With no starmaps or reliable guidance, he tried to use his uncanny prescience one more time. Another big gamble. Activating the Holtzman engines and closing his eyes, Duncan folded space again, spinning the cosmic roulette wheel—
And the no-ship emerged, intact but still lost, at the perimeter of a star system. A yellow sun with a necklace of worlds, including a terrestrial planet that orbited at the appropriate distance to support life. Possibly habitable, certainly with oxygen and water that the Ithaca could take aboard. A chance . . .
Others had gathered on the navigation bridge by the time the no-ship approached the uncharted world. Sheeana got down to business. “What do we have here? Breathable air? Food? A place to live?”
Gazing through the observation window, Duncan was pleased at what he saw. “The instruments say yes. I suggest we send a team immediately.”
“Resupply is not good enough,” Garimi said, her tone gruff. “It never was. We should consider remaining here, if this is the kind of world we’ve been looking for.”
“We considered that at the planet of the Handlers, too,” Sheeana said.
“If the saboteur drove us here, we need to be very cautious,” Duncan said. “I know it was a random foldspace jump, but I’m still troubled. Our pursuers cast a wide net. I would not be quick to dismiss the possibility that this place is a trap.”
“Or our salvation,” Garimi suggested.
“We’ll have to see for ourselves,” Teg said. Working with the bridge controls, he displayed high-resolution images on the wide screens. “Plentiful oxygen and vegetation, especially at the higher latitudes away from the equator. Clear signs of habitation, small villages, midsized cities, mostly far to the north. Large-scale meteorological scans show that the climate is in upheaval.” He pointed to storm patterns, swaths of dying forests and plains, large lakes and inland seas shriveling into dust bowls. “Very few clouds in the equatorial latitudes. Minimal atmospheric moisture.”
Stilgar and Liet-Kynes, always fascinated with new worlds, joined the group on the high deck. Kynes drew a quick breath. “It’s turning into a wasteland down there. An artificial desert!”
“I’ve seen this before.” Sheeana studied a clear brown band like a knife slash across what had apparently been a lushly forested continent. “It’s like Chapterhouse.”
“Could this be one of Odrade’s seed planets?” Stuka asked, from her usual position at Garimi’s side. “Did they bring sandtrout here and disperse them? Will we find our Sisters down on that planet?”
“Untainted Sisters,” Garimi said with a gleam in her eyes.
“Quite possibly,” Sheeana said. “We’ll have to go down there. This looks like more than a place to replenish our resources.”
“A new colony.” Stuka’s excitement was infectious. “This could be the world we’ve been looking for, a site to reestablish Chapterhouse. A new Dune!