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Sheeana stood at the arboretum doorway, looming like a goddess; against her better judgment, she deactivated the lock field and stepped inside. Only she could soothe the four creatures and communicate with them in a primitive way.
As the largest of the Futars, Hrrm had taken the position of dominance, partly because of his strength and partly because of his connection with Sheeana. He bounded toward her, and she did not move, did not flinch. He bristled, showing his canine teeth, raising his claws.
"You not Handler," he said.
"I am Sheeana. You know me."
"Take us to Handlers."
"I have already promised you. As soon as we find the Handlers, we will deliver you to them."
"Handlers here!" Hrrm's next words were unintelligible growls and snarls, then he said, "Home. Home down there." He hurled himself against the wall. The other Futars yowled.
"Home? Handlers?" Sheeana sucked in a quick breath. "This is the home of the Handlers?"
"Our home!" Hrrm came back to her. "Take us home."
She reached out to scratch the sensitive spot on his back. Her decision was obvious. "All right, Hrrm. I will take you home."
The predator rubbed against her. "Not Handler. You Sheeana."
"I am Sheeana. I am your friend. I will take you to the Handlers." She saw that the other three half-human creatures had been standing still, their muscles coiled to pounce if she had given the wrong answer. Their eyes glowed yellow with an inner hunger and a desperate need.
The planet of the Handlers!
If the Bene Gesserits hoped to make a good impression on the inhabitants below, returning four lost Futars might gain them leverage. And it would be good for her to bring them back where they belonged.
"Sheeana promised," Hrrm said. "Sheeana friend. Sheeana not bad lady Honored Matre."
Smiling, she stroked the creature again. "You four will accompany me."
Even a great tower has its weak point. The accomplished warrior finds and exploits the smallest flaws to bring about complete ruin.
--MATRE SUPERIOR HELLICA,
Internal Directive 67B-1138
N
ow that Matre Superior Hellica had provided the services of her pet Lost Tleilaxu researcher, Edrik was confident that Uxtal could re-create one of the old Masters who knew how to manufacture spice. Had not the Oracle herself told him there was a solution?
But now the Matre Superior demanded something in return. If he meant to have his manufactured spice, Edrik could not refuse.
Reluctantly, the Navigator accepted the task, knowing full well the consequences he risked. The witch Murbella would be furious, which was only part of the reason he took pleasure in what they were about to do.
Five years ago, brash Honored Matres from Gammu had tried to launch their last few Obliterators against Chapterhouse itself, but that had been a flawed plan from the start. Even the Navigator aboard that Heighliner had been unaware of the scope of the threat. By attacking Chapterhouse, the Honored Matres had meant to wipe out the only remaining source of melange. Idiocy! The foolish whores had failed, and Mother Commander Murbella had seized their Obliterators. Shortly afterward, she had crushed the Honored Matres on Gammu and destroyed their entire enclave.
This time, though, the objective was different, and Edrik had no qualms about helping Hellica punish Murbella and her greedy witches. The Bene Gesserit would feel the sting, and a billion people would die on Richese in a matter of moments. Edrik did not feel guilty, however. The Spacing Guild had not provoked this crisis. Therefore, the blood would be on Murbella's hands.
The New Sisterhood's draconian spice policies had done little to ensure loyalty or cooperation from the Navigators. The Guild paid exorbitant prices for black-market melange squeezed out of ancient stockpiles, while the Administrator faction happily sought alternative guidance systems that would also make the Navigators obsolete.
Edrik had been forced to seek his own source of spice, relying on the memories locked inside the gholas of Tleilaxu Master Waff. Once those memories were awakened, the Navigators would have their own cheap and secure source of melange.
His Heighliner winked into existence above the industrialized planet. For millennia, Richese had been a sophisticated technological hub. The New Sisterhood had poured fortunes into Richese, and over the past several years the shipyards had grown larger than any of the famed Guild facilities on Junction or elsewhere--the most extensive the human race had ever put together. The Sisterhood claimed their newly manufactured weapons were to be used against the Outside Enemy. Without question, however, Murbella would first turn that might against the Honored Matres on Tleilax.
"Destroy it," said Matre Superior Hellica from her observation lounge below the Navigator's deck. "Destroy it all."
From spaceport complexes below and satellite stations, monitors pinged them with inquiries and communication bursts. Though Richese was a huge manufacturer of armaments, engaged in full-scale preparations for the coming battles, they'd never had any reason to suspect a threat from the Spacing Guild.
"Guild Heighliner, we were not aware of a scheduled arrival." "Please transmit your manifests. Which docking centers will you utilize?"
"Heighliners, we will prepare our outgoing shipments. Is a CHOAM representative aboard?"
Edrik did not answer. The Matre Superior issued no ultimatum, delivered no warning. She did not even open the channel so that she could gloat.
Guildsmen followed the detailed preparations for deploying the last few Obliterators the rebel Honored Matres had kept on Tleilax. Floating in his sealed tank, Edrik smiled. This would set back the New Sisterhood's military plans by years, if not decades. All those weapons gone, as well as the industrial capability to manufacture more. In a single strike Matre Superior Hellica would remove a keystone from the arch of human civilization.
I do it for spice, Edrik thought. The Oracle promised us a new source of melange.
Hatches opened in the Heighliner's belly, disgorging Obliterators that dropped toward the planet like molten cannonballs. Reaching the appropriate atmospheric depths, the weapons fissioned and spread ripples of hot annihilation. The people of Richese could not conceive of what was happening as their whole planet began to catch fire.
Cracks raced across the continents, and flamefronts roared through the atmosphere. The electromagnetic bands were full of desperate cries, screams of terror and pain, and then piercing EMP feedback as the Obliterators completed their work. Across the planet, weapons shops, construction yards, cities, mountain ranges, and whole oceans vanished into ionized vapor. The ground itself turned to a blistering, baking ceramic.
Even Edrik was awed by what he saw. He hoped that Hellica understood what she was doing. This was an aggression Mother Commander Murbella could never ignore, and she would know whom to blame. Tleilax was the only rebel Honored Matre enclave left.
In silence, the Heighliner departed, leaving the now-dead Richese behind.
Rot at the core always spreads outward.
--Sufi proverb
T
here is a time for violence, and for talking. This is not the time for talking." Murbella had called both Janess and the former Honored Matre Kiria to stand beside her in the highest tower of the Keep. After the annihilation of Richese, her anger grew hot enough to sear even the voices in Other Memory. "We need to cut the head off the monster."
So many vital weapons had been destroyed there, a gigantic and fully armed fleet nearly completed, so much potential for the defense of humanity--all ruined by the bitch queen Hellica! Aside from the armament shipments they had already received, Murbella had nothing but cooling slag to show for her years of payments to Richese.
It was an overcast morning on Chapterhouse, with clouds that owed more to dust storms than to rain. A cold front had swept in. Such were the vagaries of climate in the ecosystem's death throes. On the practice field far below, the Valkyries wore heavy-hooded black robes and gloves against the biting wind, though Reve
rend Mothers could manipulate their metabolism to endure temperature extremes. Their furious mock combat engagements were breathtaking as they abandoned themselves to violence. They had all heard the news of the destruction of Richese.
"Tleilax is our last and only target," Kiria said. "We should move without delay. Strike now, and without mercy."
Janess was more cautious. "We cannot afford anything but total victory. That is their most powerful remaining stronghold, the one where the whores are most entrenched."
