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The nostrils flared in Skira's beaklike nose. "We have long suspected the Phibians also traded with smugglers, stealing our soostone harvests and providing for themselves."
"Not your soostones," the Phibian said with a long bubbling rumble.
Murbella felt she was on the verge of an interesting breakthrough. "You promise not to deal with smugglers if we treat you fairly? Is that what you mean?"
Skira sounded mortally offended. "Phibians are slaves! Subhuman creatures. They do what they are created to do--"
Murbella regarded her with a murderous glare. "Provoke me if you dare. I am perfectly willing to kill another arrogant whore to make my point."
Skira met her eyes like a mouse facing a rattlesnake. At last she bowed, and then took a small step back. "Yes, Great Honored Matre. I did not mean to offend."
The Phibian seemed amused. "No more smugglers."
Corysta explained, "The smugglers have always been smart enough to leave us most of the haul. They were an irritation to the Honored Matres, maybe, but not enough of a thorn to require massive retaliation."
Skira grumbled, "We would have crushed them sooner or later."
"What could the smugglers pay you?" Murbella asked the creature, ignoring Skira. "What do Phibians want?"
"Smugglers bring spice. We give soostones."
So that was it! Though the Guild was desperate for melange, and Murbella still refused to provide them with anything more than a trickle for their bare necessities, smuggling groups and black-market traders had begun to disseminate their own hoarded spice.
From her singlesuit pocket, she produced a small cinnamon-colored tablet and handed it to the Phibian. "We have more melange than smugglers could ever bring to you."
With a perplexed expression, the creature held it in his webbed hand, and then sniffed cautiously. The thick-lipped smile returned. "Spice. Good." With a very serious expression, he stared at the tablet of melange in his hand, but did not attempt to swallow it.
"You will get along just fine with the Sisterhood. We think the same way." Murbella pointed at the tablet of melange. "You keep."
"Trade?"
She shook her head. "No. A gift, for you."
"He doesn't understand the concept of a gift. It's not part of their culture," Skira said. "Slaves are not accustomed to having any possessions." Murbella wondered if all Honored Matres were so blind and simplistic and full of preconceptions.
The Phibian leader said, "Smugglers taught us."
Either not understanding, or refusing the gift, he handed the tablet back to her--reverently, rather than spitefully--and waded into the water next to his companions. Soon his head disappeared beneath the waves, and the other three deep divers followed.
Skira sniffed. "If your Sisterhood has so much melange, we can pay Phibians with it to stay away from smugglers, and give us all the soostones."
"As soon as I return to Chapterhouse, I'll issue new orders. We will provide melange to the Phibians if they need it." Murbella looked at Corysta, wondering how long it had been since the exiled Sister had received a dose herself. Surely during the Honored Matre domination, the exiled Sisters had been cut off. They would have gone through terrible withdrawal. But then, in her Shared memories with Corysta, she recalled instances where the scarred Phibian--Sea Child--had delivered some of the melange obtained from smugglers, secreting it among the rocks where Corysta could find it. "And we will give spice to any others here who may need it as well."
Superstitions and nonsense from the past should not prevent us from making progress. If we hold ourselves back, we admit that our fears are more powerful than our abilities.
--THE FABRICATORS OF IX
W
hen the Ixian Chief Fabricator sent his message to the Guild announcing success with the new navigation machines, a small delegation raced to Ix. The speed with which they arrived told Khrone everything he needed to know. The Guild Administrators were much more desperate than they let on.
He and his Face Dancers had drawn out the "invention phase" for eight years now, the shortest time he could justify for the reintroduction of such a drastically sophisticated new technology. He could not afford to raise too many questions from the Guild, or even the Ixians. The extraordinary new device could guide any ship safely and efficiently. No Navigator--and hence, no spice--was necessary.
Khrone would have them eating out of his hand.
Wearing a gray formal suit made of a plazsilk that had an oily sheen, Khrone stood quietly beside Chief Fabricator Shayama Sen. Though the Baron Harkonnen ghola and the one-year-old Paul Atreides needed constant tending in their isolation on Caladan, Khrone had decided to come to Ix to observe this interaction for himself.
Administrator Gorus entered the room accompanied by six other men. In addition to Guild functionaries, Khrone noted a representative of the independent Guild Bank and a master merchant from CHOAM. It seemed that the Guild Administrators had pointedly not brought a Navigator to these discussions. Instead, the delegation had left him in his spice-filled chamber high above and isolated in his orbiting ship. Oh, how they must be thirsting after the new technology!
This time they met in a small intimate chamber, not the large manufacturing bay with the clamor of industrial noises that had so dominated their first meeting. Sen called for refreshments, drawing out the moment. He seemed to enjoy the anticipation. "Gentlemen, commerce across the galaxy is about to change forever. What you desire is in your hands, thanks to Ixian innovation."
Gorus tried to conceal his eagerness with a skeptical expression. "Your claims are impressive and extravagant, Chief Fabricator."
"They are also true."
Khrone played his meek role, serving sweet confections and a robust drink that was (ironically, considering the nature of the meeting) heavily laced with melange. As Administrator Gorus politely consumed the proffered treats, he scanned the technical reports and testing results provided by Khrone's team. "These new Ixian navigation machines seem to be a thousand times more accurate than the previous ones we incorporated into some of our Guildships. Much better than anything used in the Scattering."
The Chief Fabricator took a long sip of his hot melange beverage. "Never underestimate Ixians, Guildsman. We notice you did not include a Navigator in these discussions."
Gorus put on a haughty air. "He was not necessary."
Khrone suppressed a smile. That statement was true on several levels.
"Humanity has been searching for an accurate navigational system for . . . for millennia! Think of how many ships were lost during the Famine Times," the Guild banker said, his face suddenly florid. "We expected you would take decades to achieve such a dramatic overhaul from first principles."
Sen beamed proudly at Khrone. Even the Chief Fabricator assumed that the recent breakthroughs were based on real Ixian knowledge and ingenuity, not brought in from the Outside Enemy.
The CHOAM master merchant scowled at the Guild banker. "This is nothing new. Obviously, Ixians must have been working on forbidden technology in secret all along."
"And much to our benefit, I might add," Gorus interrupted, cutting off any possible argument.
"We Ixians do not rest on our laurels." Shayama Sen then quoted one of the tenets of Ix, " 'Those who do not actively pursue progress and innovation soon find themselves at the tail end of history.' "
Khrone interceded before foolish questions could be raised. "We prefer to call these new devices 'mathematical compilers,' to avoid inadvertent confusion with thinking machines of any kind. These compilers simply automate the processes that a Navigator or even a Mentat can do. We do not wish to raise the ugly specter that led to the Butlerian Jihad."
He listened to his own euphemisms and rationalizations, knowing that these men would do exactly what they wanted to do anyway, regardless of laws and moral restrictions. They were just imaginative--and greedy--enough to provide any necessary justifications, should questions come up.
Shayama Sen added wit
h a stern edge to his voice, "If you gentlemen had any doubts, you would not be here. By pretending uneasiness and citing ancient prohibitions against thinking machines, are you trying to bully us into lowering our price? That will never work." He set his cup down, but continued smiling.
"In fact, it makes commercial sense for us to offer this technology more widely. We believe the New Sisterhood would be particularly eager to obtain navigation devices of their own to build an autonomous fleet. They deal with the Spacing Guild now because they have little choice. How much would they pay for their independence, I wonder?"
