Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [91]
“Stuka isn’t,” Sheeana said with an edge of bitterness.
“You shouldn’t have left the no-ship,” Teg said. “You’re vulnerable now, visible to the searchers and their wide net.”
“Let them find me.” Duncan appeared stony, as if he had reached an inescapable conclusion. “This endless chase and hiding accomplishes nothing. I can’t defeat the Enemy unless I confront them.”
Sheeana glanced nervously at the sky, as if expecting the old man and woman to appear suddenly. “Garimi could have led the attack, or even Thufir. Instead, you let yourself be swayed by your emotions.”
“I factored them in when I made my correct decision.” Duncan’s face flushed, as if he were hiding the real answer, and he rushed ahead with an explanation. “By comline, I spoke with Stilgar and Liet-Kynes aboard the flyer. We intercepted them out in the desert, so I have some inkling of what’s going on here. I know how they killed Stuka—and why.”
“And you’re surprised to see me alive?” Sheeana asked. “Grateful, too, I hope.”
Teg interrupted. “The death of Stuka was a tragic overreaction. These people made assumptions about us.”
Nodding, Duncan said, “Yes, Miles. And if I had made an overzealous response with superior firepower, that would have caused many more deaths and a much greater tragedy. In one of my earlier lives I might have done exactly that, but I only needed to think about what you would have done.”
Stilgar and Liet emerged with the commandos from the tanker. The two young gholas displayed a hardness to them now, and new life behind their eyes. The Fremen naib and the planetologist had found something on Qelso that reenergized them and transported them to other times.
Teg understood what all the gholas had gone through since recovering their memories. They had been sheltered and comfortable aboard the Ithaca, forced to content themselves with reading about their pasts and watching the sandworms in the cargo hold, as if they were specimens in a zoo. But these gholas could remember the real Arrakis. The lives of Stilgar and Kynes had not been safer or more comfortable in the tumultuous old days, but there had been a certain sharp definition to who they were.
Others continued to emerge from the landed vessels: Thufir, Garimi and more than a dozen Sisters, muscular male Bene Gesserit workers, second-generation children born aboard the no-ship setting foot on a real planet for the very first time in their lives. Five of the Rabbi’s followers stood in bright sunlight, looking around in wonder at the landscape, at the open spaces. Presently the old man himself emerged, blinking his bespectacled, owlish eyes.
Var looked admiringly at the mining shuttles and lighters, at his new companions Stilgar and Liet. He raised his chin. Apparently, Duncan had also spoken with the village leader at length during their flight back from the desert. “Duncan Idaho, you know what trials we face here, what we’ve been driven to do. We are the only ones who’ll stand against the death of this planet. We did not bring the desert here. You have no right to condemn us.”
“I didn’t condemn you for your struggle, but I can’t condone what you did to our companion. Years ago, Bene Gesserit visitors to your world acted without considering the consequences of what they were doing to you. And now it appears you have done the same thing.”
The old leader shook his head. His eyes burned with anger and righteousness. “We killed the witches responsible for depositing sandtrout here. Finding another witch, we killed her too.”
Duncan abruptly cut off what was sure to be a pointless argument. “We will take our friends and leave you. I’ll let you have your fruitless fight against a desert you can’t defeat.”
Teg and Sheeana stepped forward, anxious to leave this place. Liet and Stilgar, though, held back and looked at each other. The latter squared his shoulders and said, “Duncan, Bashar . . . Liet and I are having second thoughts. This is the