Paul Of Dune Part 25

Marie stared at the contraption. "I would like to try that."

Lady Margot felt immediately protective. "Not now, dear child. It isn't safe."

"We would never subject our Kwisatz Haderach to anything unsafe." Dr. Ereboam's pinkish eyes followed the spinning, swooping pod. "It is primarily a centrifuge procedure, combined with precise bursts of finely calibrated energy that penetrate certain areas in the endorphin-infused brain. Think of it as a sorting and filing process. This technique isolates specific portions of the mind, closing off unproductive neural pathways and synapses, while opening others. We have empirical data to prove that such exposure improves both mental and physical performance. Our techniques have proved effective for centuries."

Fenring, though, had his doubts. Thallo might have followed a carefully prescribed genetic blueprint, but he was not as impressive as Lady Margot's own perfect little daughter. Smiling, the Count tousled the golden hair of the girl whose intelligent eyes continued to study everything around her.

When Ereboam turned off the machine, the lithe and muscular Thallo emerged, his body still covered by a beige filmsuit. He didn't look the slightest bit disoriented from the stressful experiment. When he fixed his gaze on Marie's, she met it with her pale blue eyes, unwaveringly. A strange spark seemed to pa.s.s between them.

As Thallo approached, the two continued to stare at each other. Much taller, the Tleilaxu candidate carried himself with a casual, almost derisive demeanor.

"We could be taught together," she suggested. Considering the intense training he and his wife were already giving the girl, Fenring was not averse to adding another advantage to Marie's personal a.r.s.enal. In order to succeed - with or without the Tleilaxu Kwisatz Haderach candidate - she would have to be the most precisely trained individual in the Imperium.

Ereboam found the idea intriguing. "In the years you have lived among us, Count, your Marie is one of the most interesting subjects I have ever seen. She could be an effective catalyst for Thallo's training."

"And vice versa," Fenring suggested.

"THEY WATCH EVERYTHING we do." Thallo covered his own mouth and was careful not to gesture toward the poorly disguised observation plate mounted high on the wall of their enclosed exercise chamber. "They conceal themselves up there, several men at a time. Thus, the observers themselves affect their experiment. Appallingly poor science."

Marie looked, not caring if she was noticed by the ubiquitous Tleilaxu. During the six years of her life, she'd grown accustomed to having someone monitor her constantly, whether it was her parents, Tonia Obregah-Xo, or unseen spies. Usually, she didn't even think about it. The blank observation plate made no response.

Keeping his hand partially in place, Thallo smiled at her. "They don't see everything they believe they see. I have disrupted their viewing images, added special induction subsonics."

Marie was intrigued. "You can manipulate their technology?"

"They think they have taught me everything, though I have learned much more on my own." He looked at the observation window with a hint of scorn. "By manipulating their technology, I can manipulate them." them." He seemed troubled. "They consider me to be perfect, yet they always underestimate what I can do. They don't even see the contradiction in their own actions." He seemed troubled. "They consider me to be perfect, yet they always underestimate what I can do. They don't even see the contradiction in their own actions."

"And are you perfect?"

He lowered his voice, revealing a secret. "Nothing can be perfect. It is an insult to the universe." He turned his back to the observation window, then slowly rolled up the stretching, flexible beige fabric of his sleeves to reveal vivid red cuts that marred the pale skin of his arms, interlaced with the scars of older injuries that had healed over.

She leaned closer, her eyes wide. "Was it an accident?"

"I've got more underneath." He stroked his leotard-covered chest and legs. "Flaws disguise the myth of perfection." He chuckled. "Dr. Ereboam knows, but he has kept it secret from his fellow Masters. He tries to hide sharp objects from me, but I always find alternatives. Your fingernails, for example. They've trimmed mine, but I could use yours."

"You want me to help cut you?" She was curious, intrigued.

"Not now." Moving with an eerie speed and grace, he led her toward a set of metal stairs up to the walkway circling the chamber. He stopped directly in front of the opaque observation film and stared at it, as if he could see inside.

Pressing her face against the barrier, Marie tried to discern even a shadow of the watchers on the other side, but could see only murky darkness. Thallo pressed his palm against the window, bulging his muscles until the barrier flexed inward, but he did not break it. The girl wondered what the observers thought they were seeing.

Quickly bored with that amus.e.m.e.nt, the two playmates crawled across pipe conduits in the ceiling and dangled high above the floor. Though a fall from such a height would surely be harmful, if not fatal, no panicked guards or researchers rushed in to stop them.

"Don't be afraid," Thallo said. "The Masters will not allow me to come to harm."

To Marie's alarm, he leaped away from the ceiling pipe and into the open air, dropping heedlessly toward the floor ten meters below. But before he could crash onto the hard surface, an emergency suspensor field cus.h.i.+oned him and lowered him gently to the floor. She wondered when and how he had discovered the unexpected safety net, and whether he had fallen by accident just now... or if he had tried to kill himself.

Without a moment's hesitation, Marie jumped as well, throwing herself into what would have been a suicidal fall, had it not been thwarted by the safety system. As she got to her feet, delighted, she saw Thallo sitting on the floor, looking as if all the elation had drained out of him. "I am only a candidate. They hope to perfect me, but if I fail, they will try again. And again."

"Fail at what?" She sat beside him. "What do they plan to do with you?"

"I am supposed to be their Kwisatz Haderach." His brown eyes glittered. "When they give me large doses of melange, I sometimes see multiple futures for mankind. One of them always clears up, like sunlight cutting through fog, and I see myself as the Emperor of the Known Universe. That is what they want - for me to be their puppet, after I overthrow Muad'Dib."

"Very ambitious." She did not doubt him for a moment. Her parents had said they wanted her her to eventually sit on Muad'Dib's throne, so why were they cooperating with the Tleilaxu now? Did they expect Marie to be Thallo's consort someday? to eventually sit on Muad'Dib's throne, so why were they cooperating with the Tleilaxu now? Did they expect Marie to be Thallo's consort someday?

"But because I can see the future, I know know that I will not succeed. Therefore, I am not perfect." Thallo's voice trailed off and his shoulders sagged, as if the immensity pressed down upon him. that I will not succeed. Therefore, I am not perfect." Thallo's voice trailed off and his shoulders sagged, as if the immensity pressed down upon him.

On impulse, Marie reached out and slashed a fingernail across his cheek, a wound that his filmsuit could not cover. Thallo recoiled. Then, seeing the blood flow, he grinned at her. "Friends," he said.

Moments later, Dr. Ereboam hurried into the chamber alongside Marie's parents. "Why did you do that to him?" the albino researcher demanded, grabbing Thallo's head and studying the deep scratch on his cheek. He wiped away the small amount of blood and sprayed a substance on the wound.

"We were just playing," Marie said sweetly. "It was an accident." She exchanged glances with her mother, who frowned disapprovingly.

Lady Margot had taught her daughter in the use of fingernails as a Bene Gesserit fighting skill.

Thallo agreed. "Just an accident."

"Have the girl's nails trimmed," Dr. Ereboam demanded.

"I will not," her mother said.

"She cannot really harm Thallo, hmmm?" Fenring said. "If he is to be your Kwisatz Haderach, he shouldn't be afraid of a little girl."

Marie put on the most innocent, cherubic expression she could manage.

IN ENSUING DAYS, Marie and Thallo were permitted to spend time with each other regularly. The Tleilaxu researchers established what they called "interactive scenarios" that sometimes put them together in formal laboratory chambers, while at other times their interactions were more casual and unch.o.r.eographed.

They played games, running through common rooms and corridors. The pair even ate meals together, during which Marie once started throwing food just to shock the observers, pretending to be a child having a tantrum. Noodles, stew, fruit, drinks, and plastic table settings flew back and forth. Finally, laughing, she and Thallo sat together in a mess on the floor... and she surrept.i.tiously pressed a small item into his hand.

"Here. My mother gave it to me for self-protection," Marie whispered, keeping a hand over her mouth to cover her moving lips. "Use it to do little things to yourself. Keep the Masters from controlling you."

It was a mult.i.tool containing a tiny knife, an igniter to inflict minor burns, and a long thread that could be discharged and extended as an electronic whip. In the supposed privacy of his room, he could cut, burn, and flagellate himself to his heart's content - until someone forcibly stopped him. Nodding thankfully, he slipped it into a pocket.

Thallo whispered to her, "Someday I'm going to make an extravagant gesture that will really upset the Masters. I want them to be sorry they ever created me. As my friend - my best best friend - you should help me." friend - you should help me."

With his wealth and power on Kaitain, my father could dispatch great armies to make entire worlds tremble, and he could command the execution of any amba.s.sador who offended him. He preferred to be feared rather than loved, even by his own family. Sequestered with my sisters in the Imperial Palace, I saw Shaddam IV as a distant figure who would have much preferred to have sons.

-from In My Father's House In My Father's House by the PRINCESS IRULAN by the PRINCESS IRULAN

The lack of fanfare that greeted the embarra.s.singly small s.h.i.+p from Salusa Secundus was a snub to House Corrino. Even so, Irulan went on her own initiative to greet the vessel and whichever representative Shaddam IV had sent for the Great Surrender ceremony. She was convinced that her father would not have come himself.

When she left the citadel for the s.p.a.ceport, Irulan considered doing so without any extravagant ceremony, dressing in common clothing. After all, Paul apparently liked to walk among the people, letting himself be swallowed up in the populace and pretending to be one of them, as when he went off on his foolish stunt, posing as a soldier on the battlefield of Ehknot. He thought it brought him close to his subjects.

But Irulan did not want to navigate her way through the press of people unguarded, where the dust and the stench of unwashed bodies would fill her every breath. She was the daughter of one Emperor and the wife of another, and insisted on maintaining appearances for her family, even if no one else did. Sometimes she felt that appearances were all she had left.

The Princess chose to dress in a dark blue gown rather than Atreides green or white, then swept her hair up in a simple twist. As she left her private wing of the palace, Irulan summoned a full escort of soldiers and asked several members of the household staff to carry the colorful and impressive banners from the doorway and precede her through the streets, as was her due. Though these were Muad'Dib's soldiers and his banners, they could serve her as well.

It was not the grand spectacle that the Corrinos truly deserved, but it would have to suffice, since too much ostentation could well be interpreted as an insult. She did not feel comfortable unduly flaunting the grandeur and wealth of Muad'Dib while the rest of her family was exiled to a devastated planet. Irulan already knew that her family considered her a traitor simply because she had accepted her situation; she did not wish to antagonize them further.

At the bustling s.p.a.ceport out on the plains of Arrakeen, the latest Guild Heighliner had disgorged numerous diplomatic frigates that had come in response to Muad'Dib's summons. The clamor, movement, and confusion were incredible. Her father, who had spent much of his reign dabbling with regimented Sardaukar maneuvers, would have been offended by the inefficient chaos.

Frigate after frigate awaited their turns in the disembarkation zones while security troops scanned the exteriors, then boarded and inspected the pa.s.sengers and their belongings. Each flight crew endured a lengthy interrogation before being released to go about its business.

The Mother Superior on Wallach IX had offered to send dozens of Truthsayers to a.s.sist with the interrogations, supposedly as a token of Bene Gesserit loyalty. Such Sisters could detect falsehood among anyone who would try to hide their motives from the Qizarate guards. But Paul had spurned the offer, claiming he did not trust witches any more than he trusted would-be a.s.sa.s.sins.

The diplomatic frigates were lined up in no particular order on the paved expanse. In the first year of his reign, Paul had increased the s.p.a.ceport's landing area tenfold, and again as he acquired more s.h.i.+ps for his Jihad. Now, each of these vessels carried at least one representative from a surrendered Landsraad family.

Paul had formally demanded a tribute of water from every s.h.i.+p. Qizarate priests were everywhere, guiding groundcar tankers that pumped the water from the holds to fill large decorated cisterns, whose spigots would be opened up for the people during the festival.

At last Irulan tracked down the Corrino frigate by identifying the faded, barely discernible lion symbol of her family painted on the hull, a design that had graced incredible structures and inspirational flags for thousands of years. Now the emblem was but a pitiable, stained reminder of the past, and the s.h.i.+p attracted no particular notice. Paul had decreed that the Corrino representative was to be viewed not as a member of the Imperial family, but as a spokesman for a minor House based on Salusa Secundus.

Security guards had already boarded the frigate, and Irulan could see that they had nearly completed their inspection scans of the interior. The s.h.i.+p's cargo holds were being emptied of water. Though Salusa was a harsh planet, devastated by the old holocaust, water was not particularly scarce there. Certainly not like Arrakis.

Irulan called for a fanfare, asked her welcoming party to raise the banners and clear a path for her while her guards stood at arms. Then she stepped forward as the pa.s.senger hatch opened and the ramp extended. Onlookers were all around Irulan, watching the constantly changing show of strangers coming from distant planets. By now, they had seen so many hundreds of arrivals that they all looked bored, although the escort party's flags of Muad'Dib gave them something else to consider.

Accompanied by ten disarmed Sardaukar guards, the Salusan representative finally appeared. She looked like a waif, her skin pale, her eyes large and round, her hair a mousy brown rather than Irulan's rich gold or the lush auburn of her sister Wensicia. The girl looked completely overwhelmed.

"Rugi!" Irulan startled the escort guards. Amidst all the background noise, the Arrakeen security troops gave Irulan only a cursory glance, then allowed her forward.

When her sister took dainty steps down the ramp, Rugi was breathing heavily, fighting to control a disturbed expression on her face. She had chosen to wear one of her finest court gowns, which she had taken into exile with her from Kaitain. A stiff, gem-encrusted collar rose higher than the top of her head. Her billowing skirts dripped prismatic lace; a choker of Hagal emeralds encircled her tiny neck, while Mallabor pearls looked like a lather of sea foam across her bodice. Rugi looked as if she wanted to dart back into the safety of her frigate.

Irulan kissed her little sister on the cheek. Though the young woman was about the same age as Paul Atreides, she appeared vastly younger and more innocent. Because of her low ranking even among the daughters of Shaddam, Rugi had received only cursory training from the Sisterhood. She had lived a sheltered life, first on Kaitain and afterward on Salusa Secundus. Irulan understood immediately the message the fallen Emperor was sending: I could could not not be bothered to send anyone more important. Thus, I sneer at your summons, Muad'Dib. be bothered to send anyone more important. Thus, I sneer at your summons, Muad'Dib.

A dangerous game to play, Irulan thought, worried for her father's safety and concerned that he might be planning something even more foolish. Irulan thought, worried for her father's safety and concerned that he might be planning something even more foolish.

She took her sister's dainty hand - too dainty. Obviously out of her depth, this was a girl who had been bred for court life in the old Imperium, nothing more. "I'll take care of you, little sister. Muad'Dib has guaranteed you his protection." Irulan half expected her sister to pull away and reject her as a "traitor to House Corrino." Instead, Rugi clasped Irulan's hand tightly. With a smile, Irulan said, "We have an apartment for you in the new citadel, in my private wing."

"And rooms for my Sardaukar?" Rugi asked, her voice quavering. "Father told me not to stray from them."

"Yes, we have quarters for them as well." The magnificent Citadel of Muad'Dib could house the entire population of Salusa and still have rooms left over, she thought.

"Father is not happy with you, Irulan."

"I know. We'll have time to talk about that."

Rugi summoned what bravery she possessed. She released Irulan's hand, taking her arm instead, and the two of them strolled together away from the s.p.a.ceport, followed by the Sardaukar retinue. "I thought Salusa Secundus was bad." Rugi stared at the dusty streets, and winced at the noise and stench. "But this place is much, much worse."

You can have all your paradise worlds; I see Eden in the desert, and that is enough for me.

-The Stilgar Commentaries

Jericha had impressive mountains - gray, craggy peaks thatched with glistening snow that provided too many hiding places for Thorvald's rebels. In the five years since the start of the Jihad, Stilgar had seen many things that went beyond the wildest things he'd ever thought of as a Fremen naib. In Sietch Tabr he had considered himself a wise and powerful man, yet he had never seen beyond the horizon of his own planet. Dune had been enough for him then.

But when Muad'Dib asked him to do more, he could not refuse. In preliminary reports, Stilgar had heard about the harsh conditions that awaited his troops once they got high above the tree line to the windswept fastnesses where Memnon Thorvald's guerrilla troops had concealed a weapons stockpile. He had laughed at the warnings about weather. Cold, snow, blizzards - such weather could not possibly be more dangerous than the sandstorms he had endured for most of his life.

As the date of the Great Surrender ceremony approached, more than a thousand representatives had already traveled to Arrakeen to pledge themselves and show their humility. Stilgar longed to be back in Arrakeen where he could stand at Muad'Dib's side and be the first to embrace him. But the press of the Jihad did not slow for festivals or celebrations. The fighting would not stop, no matter what Muad'Dib decreed. For now Stilgar had another job to do.

The nine surviving rebel n.o.bles in Thorvald's persistent insurrection had sent a defiant announcement to a number of fringe worlds. Thorvald had proclaimed his own gathering of opposition leaders and provided cryptic instructions on where to meet.

Paul had looked genuinely sad as he dispatched Stilgar and a special group of crack soldiers to Jericha. "Everyone else in my Empire needs to prove their loyalty to me, Stil, but not you, and not Gurney Halleck."

For the important a.s.signment Stilgar had selected a few of his best Fremen warriors, including Elias, one of the bravest of Muad'Dib's death commandos. Most of this army, though, was composed of Caladan troops, trained and dispatched by Halleck as he did his part to continue the fight. Jericha was a water-rich world, and after his unsettling debacle in the marshes on Bela Tegeuse, Stilgar had requested soldiers with more proficiency in the type of environment they were likely to encounter.

Their path to the rebel stockpile in the Jerichan mountains was slow and tedious. In a brilliant tactical move, Thorvald's followers had obtained and deployed powerful suspensor-field jammers, dangerous and expensive Ixian technology available only on the black market. The jammers were capable of shutting down the engines of scout fliers and airborne a.s.sault s.h.i.+ps. Stilgar had discovered this to his dismay when he'd sent his first a.s.sault team to investigate and destroy the enclave. Every s.h.i.+p in the first wave crashed, plummeting into the rugged mountains before they could manage to get off a single shot.

So, Stilgar had been forced to plan another approach. Since standard flying vehicles and even 'thopters were not reliable against the jammers, he decided to use a more conventional means of locomotion. From small tundra villages - whose men and women enthusiastically swore their loyalty to Muad'Dib as soon as they saw the overwhelming military force - they obtained ruh-yaks: st.u.r.dy, s.h.a.ggy, and smelly beasts of burden. The creatures could carry men and equipment, and their plodding footsteps did not slow (or hasten) regardless of the load they carried. Invoking the name of Muad'Dib, Stilgar had commandeered the entire herd and all the necessary saddles, harnesses, straps, and goads.

With the ruh-yaks, his team could pa.s.s through a green stream valley and up into the barren rock to a high pa.s.s, following trails that the rebels in Thorvald's stronghold were not likely to suspect. Based on intelligence reports, Stilgar had no doubt that his fighters would overwhelm and crush the enemy. The only question in his mind was how many lives it would cost him.

Leaving the tundra village nearly empty after the people helped Muad'Dib's fighters, Stilgar's men set off to find the weapons stockpile. The ruh-yaks were offensive beasts, stupid, flatulent animals whose thick, matted fur was a haven for biting insects that seemed to prefer the taste of human blood over that of the animals. Some were ornery and stubborn and often made such loud noises of complaint that Stilgar despaired of approaching his target quietly.

Proceeding up steep slopes, plodding relentlessly for more than a day, they finally reached a second river valley that led even higher into the crags. Drawing tributaries from several adjacent drainages, the mountain stream itself was wide and deep, greatly swollen by spring runoff.

"I am not certain we can ford this," said Burbage, the highest-ranking man of Stilgar's Caladan troops, a noncom. "Normally, I wouldn't recommend a crossing for another month or two, until the waters go down. It's the wrong season."

"Muad'Dib cannot keep track of every season on every planet in his Empire," Stilgar said. "He sent us here to wipe out a nest of vipers. Would you like to go tell him he will have to wait?"

Burbage seemed more dismayed than intimidated. He touched a long, thin mark on his cheek. "I got this scar fighting in Duke Leto's War of a.s.sa.s.sins, facing the charging stallions of Viscount Moritani. I have been following Atreides orders since long before Master Paul became the man you call Muad'Dib. I'll find a way."

The Caladan man urged his beast to the edge of the river. The current looked deceptively motionless, showing only a few feathery ripples across the surface. Nevertheless, Stilgar could hear the hollow chuckling of water that stirred past rocks on the bank.

"Deep and cold." Burbage raised his voice to the Caladan troops. "But I can swim, and cold doesn't bother me. Shall we go?" His men cheered, and Stilgar was caught up in their confidence.

Burbage's ruh-yak lurched into the water with a great splash, and the other Caladan riders charged forward, cheering as if it were a game. Within moments dozens of the beasts had plunged into the deep, wide stream, striking out into the current and pus.h.i.+ng downstream. Quickly the water became too deep for the beasts to find footing, and they began to swim.

Stilgar, Elias, and his Fremen were caught up in the charge, driven into the river, which carried them farther down the valley. When they were in the middle of the channel, algae-slick rocks just beneath the surface began to churn the current into rougher water.

Some of the Caladan troops had already made it across, while several men had fallen off of their mounts and were soaked. They splashed to the bank, laughing, pulling some of their friends back into the water to engage in horseplay. These soldiers had been born and raised around water; they had learned to swim as easily as they walked.

But Stilgar was awed by the swift and powerful current. Elias slipped off of his ruh-yak and flailed in the river, rus.h.i.+ng downstream to where he was caught up against jutting boulders. He clung to them, bellowing for help and not willing to let go to swim for the far bank.

Burbage shouted for ropes and swimmers to retrieve the Fremen. Stilgar tried to get close enough to help Elias, but his own thras.h.i.+ng ruh-yak slipped beneath the water. Stilgar went under and instead of letting out a yell, he swallowed and inhaled a mouthful of the river. He began to cough and gasp uncontrollably. The weight of his heavy pack pulled him down.

The struggling ruh-yak tried to throw off its rider and the packs. The equipment fell off first, whisked along in the current. Stilgar couldn't catch any of it, couldn't even keep his hold on the saddle and reins. He found himself drifting free, in clothing that was soaked and heavy. The coldness of the water settled into his chest, squeezing his lungs like an icy fist. He kept going under, choking and coughing; he hadn't been able to draw a decent breath since his accidental gulp of water. The stream seemed so deep, so cold.

He saw a light above and struck out for it, but something grabbed his shoulder, sharp and powerful, like a monster's claw under the water. A tree branch. Tangled in it, he couldn't stroke upward. As his need for air became more and more desperate, he forgot everything Gurney Halleck had taught him about swimming. He felt something tear at his skin. The strap of his pack was snagged on the waterlogged branch.