[Dune7: Advent]

*

[Book Two - Chapter Seven]

The rule of the God-Emperor was nigh-absolute, dissolving the political tripod structure that characterised the Empire prior to the rise to prominence of House Atreides, greatly diminishing the power of the Guild. In its current distribution of controlling power, space travel continues to determine the structure of our existence as a society dependent on exchange of goods and services between different planets and planetary systems, the instruments that channel this influence being the limitations of the technology utilised. Ix, having gained nearly complete control of the market for sophisticated machine products during the God-Emperor’s reign at the expense of Richese, will attain dominance in the power void the demise of the Guild creates because of two innovative developments: no-technology and transluminal navigation systems. A new political tripod will be formed: the Bene Gesserit with their mental training and the Bene Tleilax with their Spice-producing axolotl tanks will be balanced out by the new technological reign of Ix.

-from “Beyond The Tyrant”, Vendalma of Ix.

            Murbella completed a complex sequence of kicks, full-body spins and punches, traversing the practice floor in the process. They had been living in the sietch for a week now, all of them preparing for the moment they would strike back at Donelid and her malcontents. A big miltary operation had been planned, communicating with Bene Gesserit operatives still amongst the Honoured Matres, and those in the sietch would be central to it all.

            From the sidelines, Bellonda watched her Mother Superior practice, she herself having just finished her excercises - low-impact ones, since she preferred to let her mind and voice do the fighting rather than her body.

            How odd it is that we still rely on the infantry, on hand-to-hand combat techniques to fight wars, Bellonda suddenly realised. In Paul Atreides’ days this particular decision was born out of necessity, considering the ban on atomics as well as the destructive potential of the interaction of lasgun and Holtzmann shield - they couldn’t fight effectively in any other way, especially on Arrakis, where the use of shields was unwise for yet another reason.

I guess I do understand the reason - after all these millennia, still the Butlerian Jihad manages to cast its shadow across the galaxy. The use of machines and other kinds of technological artifacts is frowned upon by many - to use an understatement - and the exploitation of natural abilities is stimulated. This of course is the essence of the Sisterhood’s modus operandi, and the dedication of many lifetimes to unlocking the abilities and potentialities currently available to Bene Gesserit adepts has certainly enriched humanity, even if the greater part of it doesn’t quite realise how much we sacrificed and continue to sacrifice to prepare a better future for everyone.

Murbella was now working her way through a sequence of leg excercises from an ancient martial arts technique. Bellonda continued to develop her current train of thought. Still, one might wonder why the Sisterhood continues to submit to those rules and regulations, explicit as well as implicit - of all people, we should understand the true value of any religiously inspired regimen. Religion is fabricated, and as such merely useful as long as its axioms continue to be coherent within a certain stable socio-cultural context, and its implementation continues to produce situations in which power is distributed in such a way that the entire system is permitted to develop and grow. The policies that emerged from the Butlerian Jihad have certainly served that particular purpose in the past, but I feel the time might have come for the Sisterhood to redefine some of our basic guidelines.

The Prometheus Manifesto, as pretentious and potentially dangerous as it is, does contain a number of rather astute observations. The Kwisatz Haderach program has indeed

caused an awful lot of destruction, and it could be argued that it - as well as the Sisterhood’s subsequent damage control measures, including the Second Scattering and the Duncan program - should be written off as a failure.

When you consider the way Ix tests the boundaries of the Jihad’s prohibitions and the level of success they’ve attained doing this, while still managing to get away with it, perhaps the next step of human evolution does lie within the carefully controlled exploitation of the possibilities of technology. Human flesh has been pushed to its functional limits by the Bene Gesserit, the Tleilaxu and even the whores of the Honoured Matres - to gain a competitive edge, perhaps the Sisterhood should explore the regions as yet actively avoided by us. The resurrection of Clairby a decade ago proves both that the knowledge is present, at least in theoretical form, and that the Sisterhood isn’t afraid to try such experiments when the circumstances demand it.

            On the practice floor, Murbella had finished warming up, and demanded a sparring partner. She gestured for a young Bene Gesserit acolyte to approach her. Her name is Nejilwen, Bellonda recalled. She was an inexperienced fighter and no match for Murbella - who was widely regarded to be the best fighter of both Bene Gesserit and Honoured Matres - but equipped with an unusually sharp mind, and of vast potential value to the future of the Sisterhood.

            Nejilwen approached the Mother Superior, quite obviously feeling out of her element, and struck a defensive stance. Murbella taunted her, jumping from one foot on the other, trying to get her to attack first.

            What is she doing?, Bellonda thought. The fact she was an Honoured Matre once might explain some immature behaviour, but this is ridiculous. Is she really going to fight that poor girl?

            She has changed lately, Bellonda realised. Over the last few days of practice sessions, her fighting style has changed: not quite as refined and graceful as before, and more than once relying on a rather… charitative interpretation of the rules of hand-to-hand combat. Her physical appearance is changing as well. Despite a very parsimonious diet and increased excercise time, she appears to be putting on weight.

            She’s definitely less forgiving, almost cruel at times. Perhaps this is exactly what we need: for the coming month, several strikes have been planned, intended to weaken or eliminate strategic elements of the Honoured Matre organisation.

            At that moment, Nejilwen charged, jumping up in the air, aiming her heel at Murbella’s side. Murbella easily evaded this attack, and let her opponent land without touching her. Several other, similar attacks followed, Nejilwen hitting nothing and merely exhausting herself, Murbella smiling broadly thoughout it all

            She’s toying with the girl!, Bellonda knew.

            “I’m growing tired of this,” Murbella said. “Let’s finish the fight.”

            No one had suspected that Mother Superior had meant this in a literal sense: with a powerful jump and a virtuoso feint she was behind Nejilwen, and clamped her hands around the acolyte’s head.

            “A lesson!”, Murbella exclaimed, and broke the young girl’s neck with very little effort. She walked away, never once looking back at what she had done, showing no remorse.

[Dune7: Advent]

*

[Book Two - Chapter Eight]

An idea is never autonomous. One always needs to wonder: where did this come from? What concatenation of thoughts produced this insight? A proper understanding of cause and effect and mutual dependence structures of signifiers helps form the basis of Mentat abilities, and reflects the workings of the mind itself. Every idea is embedded in an ecological system that needs to be understood completely before even its tiniest element can be used to its fullest potential.

-from “The Wisdom Of Muad’Dib”, by the Princess Irulan.

            Donelid wiped the blood from her right hand with a sleeve of the robe of the acolyte standing right next to her, gently rubbing the spot on her hand that would undoubtably turn into a bruise.

            She addressed the acolyte. “What is your name, child?”

            The girl, a young Honoured Matre as yet relatively untainted by Bene Gesserit indoctrination, stammered, unsure of how to carry herself in the presence of one of the most powerful of her kind. “Ah, I… Mersil, Great Honoured Matre.”

            Donelid raised her thin eyebrows, genuinely surprised. “Great Honoured Matre, even? Well, I guess I am. Murbella certainly doesn’t qualify any longer, does she?”

            “No, Great Honoured Matre.”

            “Good.” She gestured to the limp form on the floor, the lifeless remains of Xolud, who had dared challenge the leadership of Donelid mere minutes earlier. “Merlin, could you please get rid of that thing?”

            “Mersil, Great Honoured Matre.”

            “What?”

            “My name, its-”

            “I don’t care. Do as you are told.” Donelid flexed her right hand, feeling the pain intensifying in it. This was the third one this week. I might have to start killing these foolish pretenders to the throne with my feet.

            “Should we give Xolud the standard burial?”, Mersil dared.

            Donelid turned sharply, flecks of orange appearing in her eyes. “Traitors are not true Honoured Matres, and do not deserve to be treated as such! She dared defy me, which makes her a mindless animal, no better than cattle!”

A smile formed on Donelid’s face. Cattle… yes! It has been a long time since I did that last. “Take the body to Sherek in the kitchen - she’ll know what to do.” She counted the number of people sitting at the conference table. “Tell her I expect a meal for eight one hour from now.”

She turned towards the other Honoured Matres in the conference room. “Think of it as a lesson”.

After Mersil, carrying her cargo, had exited the room, she sat down at the head of the table, enjoying the startled expressions on the faces of those present. Tauntingly, she said: “Next?”

No one reacted - they all knew better than to challenge Donelid when she was in this mood.

            “Good. I want to talk about the highly annoying Murbella and her troop of assorted freaks and half-wits. They’ve been gone for half a year, but it seems they’ve returned fom the grave. Their strikes have caused us much discomfort over the past month.” Recalling the report she had been given earlier that day, Donelid recounted the damage that had been suffered at the rogues’ hands. “They’ve destroyed five large windtraps and Central’s solar power plant, contaminated the crops in three of the seven underground greenhouses, detonated our main armory and sabotaged my groundcar.”

            A suppressed chuckle was heard at the other side of the table. Very calmly, Donelid said: “Koshad, dear girl. You will die if you do that again.”

            Donelid continued. “Resistance of Bene Gesserit forces south of the desert continues, but here up north it seems everything is in Honoured Matre hands. Of course, there’s also the matter of the ‘Prometheans’, as it seems they’re called. Their Futars are certainly dangerous beasts, but we Honoured Matres have come a long way since they chased us across the galaxy. However repulsive the witches might be, they did manage to teach us many interesting things. In light of our recent advancements, I very much doubt the Prometheans will cause us much trouble.”

            All at the table nodded, either in agreement or out of fear - which possibility applied to which person wasn’t clear, and Donelid didn’t care.

            “The Bene Gesserit in our custody present us with a bigger problem. They might be useful somehow, but I really wouldn’t know what they could do for us. Should we just dispose of them?”

            “No.” Koshad rose from her seat, pointing a small gun at Donelid.

            “A weapon?”, the self-appointed Great Honoured Matre exclaimed, full of disbelief. “How did you get that thing past all the sensors?” Turning to her aide sitting to her right, she said: “Get me the head of whomever told me those sensors would help protect me!”

            “Special alloy,” Koshad said. “You wouldn’t understand if I explained it to you.” Koshad squeezed the trigger, the weapon unleashing a short but powerful burst of energy. Donelid tried to evade it, dropping sideways and towards the floor, but the blast hit her in the side, doing more than enough damage to be lethal.

            “It seems I am the new Great Honoured Matre now,” Koshad said dryly. All present in the room expressed their silent agreement.

            Moraten, or rather the Face Dancer impersonating the Honoured Matre Moraten, observed these events with growing approval - amusement, even. The events were unfolding exactly as it - she, currently - intended. This is excellent - even better than we projected. I hope our other operatives are equally successful. The players are moving into position…

[Dune7: Advent]

*

[Book Two - Chapter Nine]

Margot Fenring’s reports about her husband confirm what earlier Bene Gesserit analyses already stated: the Count displays certain traits we seek in the Kwisatz Haderach, but his genetically caused physical inadequacy, apart from disqualifying him outright for that part of the program geared towards future generations, also manifested itself in a failure to achieve the proper mental balance necessary to survive the Agony. Instead of being able to function as a focal point, collecting multiple streams of thoughts and memories, forming a harmonious synthesis and distributing new streams over potential futures, his defect forced his personality inward, possibly the result of the activities of a coping mechanism fed by feelings of shame and failure. The case of Hasimir Fenring clearly shows that no matter how precise our breeding records are, the unpredictable influence of the activations of recessives forces us to incorporate a substantial margin of error in our calculations, and shows us it is imperative that we continue to develop parallel bloodlines.

-Bene Gesserit Analysis

            “It appears everything is going as planned,” Adros said.

            “Yes.” Aerope didn’t betray any form of involvement with what they observed on their viewscreens. She had grown tired of the whole affair. She knew it would be over soon, and that gave her a small measure of strength.

            “However, there do appear to be some problems down below,” she continued.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Earlier today, there was a disturbance amongst some of the Netherdwellers. It appears they didn’t understand the necessity of terminating the life of a genetic failure.”

            “There was another one?”

            “Yes. I think we know whose genes are to blame, don’t we?”, she teased.

            Adros laughed, not insulted by his wife’s remark. “Blame the witches for that.”

            “Don’t we always?”, she said with a devious smile.

            “Whatever the case may be,” he said, attempting to bring the conversation back on track, “I trust the incident has been resolved?”

            “Of course. Control educated them about the situation in the broadcast earlier this evening.”

Adros pointed at a display with a long list of symbols, interspersed with several graphs. “The Net caught him again.”

            “But he evaded it - again.”

            “It took him here, didn’t it? That was the intention. It will also help guide us to Chapter House.”

            “And you are sure he didn’t figure out what was going on - who was watching him?”

            “To him, we appeared as an old couple - a man and his wife.”

            “But he was a smart one - he accessed weapons specifications. Antique ones, but advanced compared to what he was used to nonetheless.”

            “I intended that to happen.”

            “Did you also intend those aliens to appear? They were a strange blend - Ix and Tleilax working together?”

            “I didn’t wish for that to happen, but realised deep inside that it had to.”

            “How did they find them?”

            “They followed the no-ship.”

            “Don’t you remember how difficult it was for us to figure out how to do that? I doubt that those primitives were capable of doing the same.”

            “The no-field wasn’t complete - a barely detectable trace of tachyons was leaking from it. They traced that.”

            “And they probably knew that this leak existed.”

            “Of course. The Ixians built that no-ship. It’s a safety measure - every one of their products has one for them to exploit as they see fit.”

            “But they captured only the Bashar - they let the others go free.”

            “The Bashar was all they needed.”

            “Why?”

            “I’m not sure.”

            Adros did know at least part of the reason, but realised disclosing too much of his vision right now would jeopardise the proper unfolding of the events to come. I do not know everything - entering the deepest regions of my vision is simply too dangerous, and I dare not upset the delicate balance -, but I do know that currently everything is behaving as it should.

For almost my entire life, I have been preparing for what is now just around the corner. All those millennia… and now it will finally come to an end. I could possibly truly end it, but that would mean relinquishing my responsibilities - failing to correct what my own mistakes threw into disarray. I cannot do that.

“Is Guldur aware of this?”, Aerope asked.

“No.”

Adros did not want to release his chain of thoughts just yet. Guldur… He needs to be reinserted into his circles. He cannot be allowed to break free of the structure time itself dictates the way he’s planning to.

Time… What a strange thing it is. Not so much a property of something as it is an ordering principle, projected onto reality by more or less sentient beings - a mental construct whose properties were induced by the ability to remember and predict, mated to impressions and then abstracted from them again, and given independent existence within a theoretical framework born out of ignorance. Theoretically, it allows the existence of such atrocities as empty time, or infinitely expanded moments - the tunneling process that eventually resulted in the birth of the universe was not governed by time, instead creating it along with matter and force. Time is as dense as one would care to define it, but its direction is given: the experience of a single moment reveals the succession encapsulated within duration.

The motion of the allstream, the most fundamental level of reality underlying everything, is circular - I understand that now. He cannot be allowed to break the circle, but should remain trapped inside his double loop - perhaps eventually the loops will spiral upward, the quality of the events contained within them enhancing with each rotation. That is my goal.

            “Guldur…,” Adros said, at last. “My greatest triumph, and my most destructive mistake.”

            “Haven’t you traveled that road enough times already?”, Aerope said, sounding slightly annoyed. “I know they exploited you, that you were merely flotsam on the waves of their plan, but aren’t you now attempting to mend the damage that has been done?”

            “Yes…”

            “Besides, apart from your own sins, it seems to me your choice of a mate caused the most problems,” Aerope said, a mixture of hurt, anger and disappointment in her voice.

            “You do know exactly how to hurt me the most,” he said, memories of an earlier existence coming back to him.

            But even more pain is caused by the knowledge I’m trapped within my own loop, Adros realised. The necessity of it all is most painful: time is circular, but history might not be. Despite the damage the Spice and the Golden Path caused, they need to be present in some form in each consecutive rotation to ensure the survival of the human race.

            “What will happen to the ones still left on this planet?”

            “You’ll see. I think you’ll be pleased.”

            His sleek, silvery left hand clasped her right hand tenderly, his blue-in-deepest-blue eyes gliding across the graceful curves of her face. “I really do love you, Aerope.”

            “But you could never love me quite as much as you loved her.”

            Sidestepping the issue that had come up many times in the past, he said: “You have sacrificed so much for our plan over the millennia. I don’t think anyone else would have done that.”

            “You’re avoiding having to say it again. I don’t like it.”

            Adros once more pretended not to have heard her annoyed remark. “Soon I will be able to set you free. I will be able to grant you death.”

            Aerope’s tone of voice changed drastically, shifting from angered to concerned. “But you won’t die.”

            He released her hand and sat back, painful resignation in his voice. “No.”

continue

                                                                Last modified: May 24, 2000