even using teeth to rip skin. Already, more than a dozen young women lay sprawled like bloody rags on the dry grass. Shrieks of anger, pain, and defiance welled up from undisciplined throats. This was no game, nor was it practice play.
Appalled at the behavior, Murbella shouted, 'Stop this! All of you!'
But the acolytes, their adrenaline surging, continued to tear and scream at each other. One girl, a former Honored Matre, staggered forward, her hands hooked into claws that lashed out at any noise; her eye sockets were unseeing, bloody pits.
Murbella saw two young Bene Gesserits knock down a thrashing Honored Matre and tear the orange band from her arm. With hard punches strong enough to shatter their victim's sternum, the Bene Gesserit acolytes killed her. Caree flew feet first at the aggressive pair. She slammed into them simultaneously and sent them rolling away. A kick crushed the larynx of one, but the other ducked a follow-through blow. While her companion collapsed, gurgling and choking, the other rolled and sprang to her feet, clutching a broken chunk of rock that had been part of the landscaping.
Guards, proctors, and Reverend Mothers came running from the Keep. Bashar Aztin led her own troops, and Murbella noticed that they all carried heavy stunner weapons. The Mother Commander shouted into the mayhem, using Voice to make her words strike the listeners like projectiles. But the din was so great that none of the acolytes seemed to hear her.
Side by side, Janess and Murbella waded into the acolytes who were still fighting and rained blows on them, paying no attention to whether their targets wore orange bands or not. Murbella noticed her daughter increasing her intensity, pouring her entire body into fighting moves.
Murbella tucked her own head and slammed into a gleefully victorious Caree Debrak, driving her hard to the ground. The Mother Commander could easily have landed a fatal blow, but restrained herself enough to merely knock the wind out of the girl.
Gasping and retching, Caree rolled over and glared at Murbella and Janess. She climbed to her feet, wavering. 'Didn't you get enough from me earlier, Janess?
You want more of the same?' She swung a fist.
With obvious effort, Janess controlled herself, easily dodging but not retaliating. ' 'There is more skill in avoiding confrontations than in engaging in them.' That's a Bene Gesserit axiom.'
Caree spat. 'What do I care for witches' axioms? Do you have any thoughts of your own? Or only your mother's, and quotes from an old book?'
Caree barely had the words out before she lashed out with a powerful kick.
Anticipating it, Janess darted to the left and came around on her opponent's side, striking her temples with a sharp fist. The young Honored Matre went down, and Janess gave her a stunning kick in the forehead that slammed her backward.
Finally, the skirmish petered out as more women arrived to pull the fighters apart. The whole commons was littered with the remnants of the bloody brawl. A volley of stun fire dropped several of the still-fighting acolytes together into a heap on the ground, unconscious but alive.
Heaving great breaths, Murbella surveyed the bloody field in disgust and fury.
She shouted at the young Honored Matres, 'Your orange bands caused this! Why flaunt your differences instead of joining us?'
Glancing to her side, Murbella saw Janess had taken up a stance to protect the Mother Commander. The girl might not be ready for the Spice Agony yet, but she was ready for this.
The surviving acolytes began slinking toward their respective bungalows.
Voicing her mother's thoughts, Janess shouted at them, over the dead bodies strewn on the brown grass, 'Look at all the wasted resources! If we keep this up, the Enemy won't need to kill any of us.'
15
Once a plan is conceived, it takes on a life of its own. Merely considering and constructing a scheme puts a certain stamp of inevitability upon it.
When she was confrontational, Garimi could be as stubborn as the most hardened old Bene Gesserit. Sheeana let the sober-faced Sister stand in the assembly chamber and vent against the proposed historical ghola project, hoping that she would lose steam before she reached her conclusion. Unfortunately, many of the Sisters in the seats behind Garimi muttered and nodded, agreeing with the points she raised.
And so we give birth to even more factions, Sheeana thought with an inner sigh.
In the no-ship's largest meeting chamber, more than a hundred of the refugee Sisters continued their seemingly endless debate over the wisdom of creating gholas from Scytale's mysterious cells. There seemed no room for compromise.
Because they had departed from Chapterhouse to retain Bene Gesserit purity, Sheeana insisted on preserving open discourse, but the argument had already gone on for more than a month. With so much dissent, she did not want to force a vote. Not yet. At one time, we were all bound together by a common cause… From the front row, Garimi said, 'You suggest this ill-conceived scheme as if we have no other option. Even the most unschooled acolyte knows there are as many options as we choose to make.'
Duncan Idaho's words glided cleanly into the brief silence, though no one had called upon him. 'I did not say we had no choice. I merely suggested that this may be our best choice.' He and Teg sat beside Sheeana. Who knew better the dangers, difficulties, and advantages of gholas than these two? Who understood these historical figures better than Duncan himself?
Continuing, Duncan said, 'The Tleilaxu Master offers us the means to strengthen ourselves with key figures from an arsenal of past experts and leaders. We know little about the Enemy we might face, and it would be foolish to turn our backs on any possible advantage.'
'Advantage? These historical figures are a veritable pantheon of shame for the Bene Gesserit,' Garimi said. 'Lady Jessica, Paul Muad'Dib—and, worst of all, Leto II, the Tyrant.'
As Garimi's voice grew shrill, one of her companions, Stuka, added firmly, 'Have you forgotten your Bene Gesserit training, Duncan Idaho? Your reasoning is not logical. All of the gholas we're talking about are relics of the past, straight out of legend. What relevance can they possibly have to our crisis now?'
'What they lack in current relevance, they gain in perspective,' Teg pointed out. 'The sheer living history in those cells is enough to make religious scholars and academics dizzy. Surely, among all of those heroes and geniuses we will find useful knowledge for any situation we might encounter. The fact that the Tleilaxu worked so hard to obtain and preserve such cells for all these centuries argues for how special they must be.'
Reverend Mother Calissa expressed a valid concern; she had not given any hint as to the way she intended to vote. 'I am worried that the Tleilaxu modified the genetics in some way—just as they tampered with Duncan. Scytale is counting on our awe. What if there is another plan at work here? Why does he really want the gholas brought back?'
Duncan drew his gaze across the seated women. 'The Tleilaxu Master is in a vulnerable position, so he must ensure that any gholas we test are perfect.
Otherwise he loses what he most wants from us. I don't trust him, but I do trust his desperation. Scytale will do anything to get what he needs. He is dying and is frantic for a ghola of himself, so we should use that to our advantage. In our perilous situation, we dare not let our fears guide our policy.'
'What policy?' Garimi snorted, looking around at all the Sisters. 'We wander through space, going nowhere, running from an invisible threat that only Duncan Idaho can see. For most of us, the real threat was the whores from the Scattering. They took over our Sisterhood, and we exiled ourselves to save the Bene Gesserit. We need to find a place where we can establish a new Chapterhouse, a new order where we can grow strong. That is why we have begun having children, cautiously expanding our numbers.'
'And thereby straining the Ithaca's limited resources,' Sheeana said.
