Dune: House Atreides (55 page)

With ringing and clanging all around him, C'tair recalled a better, more ordered time, when he'd stood with D'murr and Kailea on the observation deck above. So long ago, it seemed. They had watched a Navigator guide the last new Heighliner out of the grotto. Perhaps it would be the last such ship ever built . . .

unless C'tair could help overthrow these destroyers.

The magnificent ship gradually fell to pieces, and the echoing sounds and chemical smells were horrific. Did suboids work this way all the time? If so, he could begin to imagine how they might have been dissatisfied enough to consider a rebellion. But C'tair could not believe the violence had been entirely at the workers' instigation.

Had this all been part of the Emperor's plan? To destroy House Vernius and quash progress? Where and how the Bene Tleilax came into play in the scheme of influences, C'tair wasn't certain. Of all races, these were the most hated people in the known galaxy. Surely, Elrood could have found any number of Great Houses to take over the operations on Ix without disrupting the economics of the Imperium. What else could the Padishah Emperor have in mind for these religious fanatics? Why would he dirty his hands with them?

In disgust, C'tair watched other changes in the grotto, facilities being modified, as he continued the work of dismantling the Heighliner. The new Tleilaxu overlords were busy little creatures, always hurrying about in a mysterious manner, setting up clandestine operations in the largest structures on Ix, locking formerly open facilities, shuttering windows, erecting stun-fences and minefields. Keeping their filthy little secrets.

C'tair took it as his mission to learn all those secrets, by whatever means necessary, however long it might take him. The Tleilaxu must fall . . . .

The ultimate question: Why does life exist? The answer: For life's sake.

-ANONYMOUS, thought to be of Zensunni origin

Two Reverend Mothers stood talking on a treeless knoll: one old, one young.

Behind clouds, the waning sun, Laoujin, threw the long shadows of their hooded black robes down the slope. Over the centuries an untold number of other Reverend Mothers had stood on the same spot, under the same sun, discussing grave matters relevant to their times.

If the two women wished, they could revisit those past crises through Other Memory. The Reverend Mother Anirul Sadow Tonkin made such thought-journeys more than most; each circumstance was just another minor step along the long, long road. Over the past year she had let her bronze-brown hair grow long, until its locks hung down to her narrow chin.

At the base of the knoll a whitecrete building was under construction. Like worker bees, female laborers, each one with an entire blueprint in her mind, operated heavy equipment, preparing to lift roof modules into place. To the rare outside observer, Wallach IX with its Bene Gesserit libraries and schools seemed always the same, but the Sisterhood was ever adapting for survival, ever changing, ever growing.

"They're working too slowly. I wanted them finished already," Anirul said, rubbing her forehead; she had been experiencing chronic headaches of late. As Mohiam came closer to term, Anirul's responsibilities as Kwisatz Mother were tremendous. "Do you realize how few days remain until the baby is due?"

"Blame no one but yourself, Anirul. You demanded that this be no ordinary birthing facility," Mother Superior Harishka said sternly. The Kwisatz Mother flushed and looked away. "Every Sister knows how important it is. Many of them suspect this is not just another child to be lost in the web of our breeding programs. A few have even been talking about the Kwisatz Haderach."

Anirul tucked a loose strand of bronze hair behind her ear. Unavoidable. All the Sisters know of our dream, but few suspect how close it is to reality." She shifted her skirts around her and sat down on the soft grass of the knoll. She gestured toward the construction where the sounds of carpentry rang clear in the air. "Mohiam is due to deliver in a week, Mother Superior. We don't even have the roof on yet.

"They will finish, Anirul. Calm yourself. Everyone is doing her best to follow your orders."

Anirul reacted as if slapped, then covered her reaction. Does Reverend Mother see me as an untempered and impetuous girl? Perhaps she had been too insistent with her instructions for the facility, and sometimes Mother Superior looked at her with a certain amount of resentment. Is she jealous that Other Memory chose me to lead such an ambitious program? Does she resent my knowledge?

"I'm not as young as you're treating me," Anirul said, against the better judgment of the voices. Very few of the Bene Gesserit had the weight of history inside them the way she did. Very few knew all of the machinations, every step of the Kwisatz Haderach program, every failure or success over the millennia, every deviation in the plan, for more than ninety generations. "I have the knowledge to succeed."

Mother Superior frowned at her. "Then put more faith in our Mohiam. She's delivered nine daughters for the Sisterhood already. I trust her to control the exact moment at which she chooses to give birth, even to delay her labor if necessary." A scrap of brittle hair blew out of its prim containment and feathered across the old woman's cheek. "Her role in this is more important than any birthing facility."

Anirul challenged the chastising tone. "True. And we must not have another failure, like the last."

Not even a Reverend Mother could master all facets of embryonic development.

Through her internal processes she could set her own metabolism, but not the metabolism of the child. Selecting her baby's sex was an adjustment of the mother's chemistry, choosing the precise egg and sperm to unite. But once the zygote started growing in the womb, the offspring was effectively on its own, beginning a process of growing away from the mother.

Anirul said, "I can feel that this daughter will be vital, a crux point."

A loud thump sounded below, and Anirul grimaced. One of the roof sections had tumbled into the interior of the building, and the Sister workers rushed about to correct the mistake.

Mother Superior uttered a profanity.

THROUGH HERCULEAN EFFORTS the birthing facility was completed, on time, while Kwisatz Mother Anirul marched back and forth. Only hours before the scheduled birth, construction workers and robos put on the finishing touches. Medical equipment was brought in and connected. Glowglobes, beds, blankets . . . even a warm blaze in the archaic wood-burning fireplace Mohiam had requested.

As Anirul and Harishka inspected the job, still smelling of dust and construction materials, they paused to watch the noisy entrance of a motorized gurney bearing an enormously pregnant Gaius Helen Mohiam. She was alert and sitting up, already experiencing increased contractions. Reverend Mothers and white-smocked medical attendants escorted her in, clucking excitedly like hens.

"This was too close, Mother Superior," Anirul said. "I don't appreciate additional stress points in an already-complex task."

"Agreed," said Harishka. "The Sisters will be reprimanded for their lethargy.

Though, if your designs had been less ambitious . . ." She let the thought hang in the air.

Ignoring Mother Superior, Anirul noted the trim and decoration of the room, with its intricate ivory and pearl inlays and ornate wood carvings. Perhaps she should have had them concentrate more on functionality than on extravagance . .

. .

Harishka crossed her thin arms over her chest. "The design of this new facility is similar to what we had before. Was it really necessary?"

"This is not similar at all," Anirul said. Her face flushed, and she washed the defensive tone out of her words. "The old birthing room simply wasn't functional anymore."

Mother Superior gave a condescending smile; she understood the need for an untainted building, with no old memories, no ghosts. "Anirul, through our Missionaria Protectiva we manipulate the superstitions of backward peoples . . .

but we Sisters aren't supposed to be superstitious ourselves."

Anirul took the comment with good humor. "I assure you, Mother Superior, such conjecture is preposterous."

The older woman's almond eyes glittered. "Other Sisters are saying you thought the old birthing room had a curse on it, which caused the first child's deformities . . . and its mysterious death."

Anirul drew herself up straight. "This is hardly the proper time to discuss such a thing, Mother Superior." She scanned the frantic preparations: Mohiam placed on the birthing bed, Sisters gathering warm karthan-weave towels, liquids, pads. An incubator chamber blinked with monitors on the wall. First-ranked midwives bustled around, preparing for unforeseen complications.

On her gurney, Mohiam looked entirely composed now, her thoughts turned inward, meditating. But Anirul noticed how old she appeared, as if the last shreds of youth had been drained from her.

Harishka placed a sinewy hand on Anirul's forearm in a sudden and surprising display of closeness. "We all have our primal superstitions, but we must master them. For now, worry about nothing except this child. The Sisterhood needs a healthy daughter, with a powerful future."

Medical personnel checked equipment and took up their positions around Mohiam, who reclined on a bed, inhaling deeply; her cheeks flushed red with exertion.

Two of the midwives propped her up in the ages-old delivery position. The pregnant woman began to hum to herself, allowing only a flicker of discomfort to cross her face as she experienced increasingly severe contractions.

Standing aloof, yet sharply observant, Anirul considered what Mother Superior had just told her. Secretly, Anirul had consulted a Feng Shui master about the old birthing facility. A withered old man with Terrasian features, he was a practitioner of an ancient Zensunni philosophy which held that architecture, furniture placement, and maximum utilization of color and light all worked to promote the well-being of a facility's inhabitants. With a sage nod, he declared that the old facility had been set up incorrectly, and showed Anirul what needed to be done. They'd had only a month before the expected delivery date, and the Kwisatz Mother had had not a moment to lose.

Now as she observed the abundance of light flowing down upon Mohiam's bed from actual windows and skylights, rather than from clusters of artificial glowglobes, Anirul assured herself she hadn't been "superstitious." Feng Shui was about aligning oneself properly with Nature and being intensely aware of one's surroundings -- a philosophy that was, ultimately, very much in the Bene Gesserit way of thinking.

Too much rode on this single birth. If there was a chance, even a small one, Anirul wanted no part in denying it. Using the power of her position, she had demanded a new birthing facility, built according to the Feng Shui master's recommendations. Then she'd sent the old man away, letting the other Sisters believe he had merely been a visiting gardener.

Now she glided closer to Mohiam's bed, looking down at her patient as the time neared. Anirul hoped the old man was right. This daughter was their last, best chance.

IT HAPPENED QUICKLY, the moment Mohiam set her mind to it. A baby's insistent crying filled the chamber, and Anirul lifted a perfect girl-child in the air for Mother Superior to see. Even the voices in Other Memory cheered at the victory.

Everyone beamed triumphantly, delighted with the long-anticipated birth.

Agitated, the child kicked and flailed.

Sisters toweled off infant and mother, giving Mohiam a long drink of juice to restore her body fluids. Anirul handed the baby to her. Still breathing hard from the exertion of the delivery, Mohiam took the girl and looked at her, allowing an uncharacteristically proud smile to cross her face.

"This child shall be named Jessica, meaning 'wealth,' " Mohiam announced proudly, still panting. When other Sisters moved away, Mohiam stared at Anirul and Harishka, who stood close to her. In a directed whisper that only they could hear, she said, "I know this child is part of the Kwisatz Haderach program. The voices in Other Memory have told me. I have seen a vision, and I know the terrible future if we fail with her."

Anirul and Mother Superior exchanged uneasy glances. In a whisper Harishka responded, looking sidelong as if hoping the spontaneous revelation might weaken the Kwisatz Mother's hold over the program. "You are commanded to secrecy.

Your child is to be the grandmother of the Kwisatz Haderach."

"I suspected as much." Mohiam sank back on her pillow to consider the immensity of this revelation. "So soon. . ."

Outside the building, clapping and cheering rang out as news of the birth passed quickly around the training areas. Balconies above the library enclaves and discussion chambers overflowed with acolytes and teachers celebrating the felicitous event, though only a handful knew the full significance of this child in the breeding program.

Gaius Helen Mohiam gave the child to the midwives, refusing to form any sort of parental bond that was forbidden by the Bene Gesserit. Though she maintained her composure, she felt drawn, bone-weary, and old. This Jessica was her tenth daughter for the Sisterhood, and she hoped her childbearing duties were now at an end. She looked at young Reverend Mother Anirul Sadow Tonkin. How could she do better than she had already done? Jessica . . . their future.

I am indeed fortunate to participate in this moment, Anirul thought as she looked down at the exhausted new mother. It struck her as odd that of all the Sisters who had worked toward this goal for thousands of years, of all those who now watched eagerly in Other Memory, she was the one to supervise the birth of Jessica. Anirul herself would guide this child through years of training toward the critically important sexual union she must have, to carry the breeding program to its penultimate step.

Wrapped in a blanket, the baby girl had finally stopped crying and lay peacefully in the sheltering warmth of its enclosed bed.

Squinting down through the protective plaz, Anirul tried to imagine what this Jessica would look like as a grown woman. She envisioned the baby's face elongating and thinning, and could visualize a tall lady of great beauty, with the regal features of her father Baron Harkonnen, generous lips, and smooth skin. The Baron would never meet his daughter or know her name, for this would be one of the most closely guarded secrets of the Bene Gesserit.