Therefore, we are shamed and embarrassed when something we consider to be 'primitive' has senses far superior to our own.
While the mission to the planet was being assembled, the Ithaca rode unseen in orbit. Though the no-field limited the ship's sensors, it was a necessary safety factor until they learned more about the inhabitants.
As the de facto captain, Duncan would remain aboard the no-ship, ready in the event of an emergency, since only he could see the mysterious web. Sheeana wanted Miles Teg with her, and the Bashar insisted on bringing the ghola of Thufir Hawat. 'Physically he is only twelve years old, but we know Thufir has the potential to become a great warrior-Mentat. We must encourage those skills to blossom if he is to be useful to us.' No one argued with his choice.
Concurrent with the fact-finding mission, Duncan made arrangements for a small contingent of workers to go to an uninhabited part of the planet with equipment to gather water, air, and any available food, in order to bolster the no-ship's supplies. Just in case they decided to move on.
As Sheeana was finalizing the details for departure, the Rabbi entered the navigation bridge and stood as if expecting a challenge.
His eyes flashed, and his stance stiffened, though no one had yet argued with him, or even spoken to him. His demand surprised them. 'I will go down to the planet with this expedition. My people insist on it. If this is to be a home for us, I will make that decision. You will not stop me from going along. It is my right.'
'It is a small group,' Sheeana cautioned. 'We don't know what we'll encounter down there.'
The Rabbi jabbed a finger at Teg. 'He plans to bring one of the ghola children. If it is safe enough for a twelve-year-old boy, then it is safe enough for me.'
Duncan had known the original Thufir Hawat. Even without his memories restored, he would not consider the ghola a mere child. Nevertheless, he said, 'I don't object to you joining the party, if Sheeana will have you.'
'Sheeana does not decide my fate!'
She seemed amused by his posturing. 'Don't I? It seems to me that all the decisions I make aboard this no- ship have a direct impact on your situation.'
Impatient, Teg cut off their bickering. 'We have had nineteen years aboard this vessel to argue amongst ourselves. A planet waits for us. Shouldn't we see what we are quarreling about first?'
BEFORE SHE COULD depart for the planet, Sheeana was called to the brig levels by a nervous worker. The Futars let out a great caterwauling, far more restless than usual inside their locked, metal-walled arboretum. They paced, searching for a way out. Whenever they came close to each other, they snapped and snarled, halfheartedly slashing at each other. Then, before more than a few droplets of blood could fly into the air, the beast-men lost interest and continued prowling. One of them emitted a bloodcurdling shriek, a noise perfectly programmed to evoke primal human fear. In all the years aboard the no-ship, the Futars had never exhibited such frantic behavior before.
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.'
7
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
Now 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
