Sandworms of Dune by Frank Herbert

  Standing coolly at attention, Teg and Duncan faced the Reverend Mothers Sheeana, Garimi, and Elyen, who had consumed the last available doses of the truthtrance drug. All of the women were armed and highly suspicious. Sheeana said, "Under various pretexts, we have isolated everyone aboard, using layers of observers. Most of them think we're searching for the missing explosive mines. So far, very few people know about Thufir Hawat. Other Face Dancers would not be aware that they are at risk of exposure."

  "I would have thought the entire idea absurd--until recently. Now no suspicion seems too paranoid." Duncan locked gazes with the Bashar, and both nodded.

  "My truthtrance is deeper than it has been before," Elyen said, sounding distant.

  "Perhaps we didn't ask the correct questions previously." Garimi put her elbows on the table.

  Teg said, "Ask away, then. The sooner you clear us of suspicion, the faster we can root out this cancer. We need a different kind of test."

  Normally a trained Bene Gesserit should have been able to uncover deception with a mere question or two, but this extraordinary inquiry lasted an hour. Because they were building a cadre of trustworthy allies, Sheeana and her Sisters needed to be thorough. And they needed to do a better job than before. The three Reverend Mothers watched for even the slightest flicker of evasion. Neither Duncan nor Teg gave them any.

  "We believe you," Garimi finally said. "Unless you give us cause to change our minds."

  Sheeana nodded. "Provisionally, we accept that you two are exactly who you say you are."

  Teg seemed bitterly amused. "And Duncan and I accept you three as well. Provisionally."

  "Face Dancers are mimics. They can change their appearance, but they cannot change their DNA. Now that we have cell samples from the Hawat impostor, our Suk doctors should be able to develop an accurate test."

  "So we believe," Teg said. With the loss of his protege, the Bashar seemed fundamentally disturbed. He no longer took anything at face value.

  With an iron-hard scowl, Garimi said, "The obvious answer is that Hawat was born a Face Dancer, then carefully planted and manipulated by our Tleilaxu Master. Who would know Face Dancers better than old Scytale? We know he had the cells in his nullentropy tube. If that scenario is true, the deception went on for almost eighteen years."

  Sheeana continued, "A Face Dancer infant could have mimicked a generic human baby from the very beginning. As he grew, he took a shape based on archival records of the young Atreides warrior-Mentat. Since no one here--not even you, Duncan--remembers the original Hawat as an adolescent, the disguise would not need to be perfect."

  Duncan knew she was right. In his original lifetime, when he'd escaped from the Harkonnens and gone to Caladan, Thufir Hawat had already been a weathered battle veteran. Duncan remembered his first real conversation with Hawat. He'd been a stable boy at Castle Caladan, working with the Salusan bulls that Old Duke Paulus loved to fight in grand spectacles. Someone had drugged the bulls into a frenzy, and young Duncan had tried to raise the alarm, but no one believed him. After Paulus was gored to death, Hawat himself had led the investigation, hauling young Duncan before a board of inquiry, since evidence indicated that he was a Harkonnen spy . . . .

  And now this Thufir was a Face Dancer! Duncan still had trouble wrapping his mind around the undeniable reality.

  "Then all of the ghola babies could be Face Dancers," Duncan said. "I suggest you summon Scytale. He's now our prime suspect."

  "Or," Teg said in a brittle voice, "he may be our best resource. As Garimi already stated, who would know the Face Dancers better?"

  When the Tleilaxu Master was brought into the copper-walled chamber, Duncan and Teg took seats at the other side of the table, part of the growing inquisition to root out the Face Dancer infiltration. Scytale appeared frightened and unsettled. The Tleilaxu ghola was fifteen years old, but he did not look like a boy. His elfin features, sharp teeth, and gray skin made him seem alien and suspicious, but Duncan realized that was only a knee-jerk response based on primitive superstitions and previous experiences.

  After Scytale sat down, Elyen leaned forward. She looked the sternest of them all. "What have you done, Tleilaxu? What is your plan? How have you tried to betray us?" She used an edge of Voice, enough to make Scytale jerk.

  "I did nothing."

  "You and your genetic predecessor knew what you were growing in the axlotl tanks. We tested the cells before allowing you to create them, but you deceived us somehow with Thufir Hawat." They showed him images of the dead Face Dancer. Duncan could see that the Tleilaxu's surprise was genuine.

  "Are all of the ghola children similarly tainted?" Sheeana demanded.

  "None of them are," Scytale insisted. "Unless they were replaced sometime after being decanted from the tanks."

  Elyen narrowed her gaze. "He's telling the truth. I see none of the indicators." Sheeana and Garimi silently consulted each other and nodded simultaneously. Then Sheeana said, "Unless he is himself a Face Dancer."

  "Scytale isn't likely to be a Face Dancer substitute simply because so few of us trust him anyway," Duncan pointed out. "A Face Dancer would choose to be someone who could more easily move among us."

  "Someone like Thufir Hawat," Teg said.

  Young Scytale looked greatly disturbed. "Those new Face Dancers were brought back from the Scattering. The Lost Tleilaxu claimed to have modified them in ways we didn't understand. Much to my dismay, I have now learned that even I can't detect one of them. Believe me, I never suspected Hawat."

  "Then how did a Face Dancer get aboard, if not grown from the Face Dancer cells in your nullentropy capsule?" Sheeana asked.

  "The Face Dancer could already have been posing as one of us when we left Chapterhouse," Duncan mused. "How carefully did you check all of the original hundred and fifty who rushed aboard during the escape?"

  Teg shook his head. "But why wait more than two decades to strike? It makes no sense."

  "A sleeper agent, perhaps," Sheeana suggested. "Or, could the Face Dancer have been someone else for a long time, and only recently replaced Thufir?"

  "Yes, look for a scapegoat to persecute," Scytale said bitterly, slumping in the overlarge interrogation chair. "Preferably a Tleilaxu."

  Sheeana had fire in her eyes. "As a precaution, we have sealed all of the ghola children in separate rooms, where they can cause no damage if another of them is a Face Dancer. I've already directed our Suk doctors to take blood samples. They won't escape."

  Duncan wondered if her vehemence might suggest that she was a Face Dancer. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and continued to watch her. He would have to watch everyone he could, at all times.

  Garimi looked around at their small trusted cadre. "I--or another of our choosing--will remain on the navigation bridge and monitor the no-ship while every single person aboard is brought into the main meeting chamber. Herd them in, account for every one, even the children. Lock the doors and test them all. One by one. Learn the truth."

  "What definitive tests can we use?" Teg asked. "On any of us?"

  Scytale piped up, "I believe I can develop a reliable method. Using a tissue sample from the Hawat Face Dancer, I will prepare a comparison panel. There are certain . . . techniques I could use. He is one of the new breed brought back by the Lost Tleilaxu, and he differs from the old ones. But with this sample--"

  "And why should we trust you?" Garimi said. "Your own purity hasn't yet been proven."

  Scytale wore a forlorn expression. "You have to trust someone."

  "Do we?"

  "I would allow myself to be observed by your experts at all times during the preparations."

  Duncan glanced at the Tleilaxu Master. "Scytale's suggestion is a good one."

  "Or I can offer another option. When the Face Dancers betrayed my fellow Masters back on Tleilax and our other worlds, some of us had time to fight back. We created a toxin that specifically targets Face Dancers--a selective poison. If you grant me access to laboratory facilities, I can
recreate that toxin and deploy it as a gas."

  "To what purpose?" Teg asked. Then his expression changed to one of understanding. "Ah, to flood the Ithaca's air systems. We would kill any Face Dancers who remain among us."

  "The quantities necessary to saturate our ship would be huge," Duncan said, racing through a Mentat calculation to estimate the volume of air within the gigantic vessel, the concentration of gas that would prove lethal to the shape-shifters, the possibility of making others ill and debilitating the crew.

  Garimi couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You're suggesting we let this Tleilaxu release an unknown gas into our ship? They created the Face Dancers!"

  Scytale answered her in a voice heavy with scorn. "You witches fail to think. Don't you see that I myself face a dire threat? These are new Face Dancers, brought in from outside by the Lost Tleilaxu--our bastard stepbrothers who cooperated with the Honored Matres to annihilate all the old Masters like myself. Think! If other Face Dancers are aboard the Ithaca, then I am in greater personal danger than anyone else. Can't you understand that?"

  "Scytale's gas must only be a last resort," Duncan said.

  Sheeana looked around the room. "I'll let him begin work on the toxin, but I'd prefer that we identify any Face Dancer directly."

  "And interrogate it," Garimi said.

  Scytale laughed. "You think you can interrogate a Face Dancer?"

  "Never underestimate the Bene Gesserit."

  Sheeana nodded. "Until we root out any other infiltrators, until we prove there are no more Face Dancers among us, our only safety lies in staying in large enough groups that the shape-shifters can't attack without being seen."

  "What if an overwhelming number of us are already Face Dancers?" Teg said.

  "Then we're all lost."

  DURING THE LOCKDOWN, each of the ghola children was tested; Leto II submitted first. When the sandworms had turned on Thufir Hawat, somehow sensing the alien Face Dancer, Leto's shock had seemed genuine. The imagers showed him staring in disbelief at the ruined body that had reverted to its blank Face Dancer state. But Thufir had clearly placed himself in danger, voluntarily going toward Leto when he did not need to. Why would a Face Dancer put himself at risk, unless the copy was so accurate that even the friendship was real?

  Leto, ghola of the Tyrant, was many extraordinary things. But he was not a Face Dancer. Scytale's genetic analysis proved it.

  Paul Atreides was also found to be clean, along with Chani, Jessica, and the three-year-old Alia, who was intrigued by the needles and samples. Despite the usual suspicions surrounding him, Wellington Yueh was also who he claimed to be.

  After Scytale completed the blood and cellular tests, Sheeana was still not satisfied. "Even if we can now trust the ghola children, that means only that other Face Dancers--if there are any more--must be hidden among the rest of us."

  "Then we'll test the rest," Garimi said. "Or use Scytale's poison gas. I'll personally submit to any scrutiny, again and again, and I suggest we all do so."

  Scytale raised his small hands in alarm. "This test is an intensive one. I'll need to prepare enough panels for all passengers, and that will take a great deal of time."

  "Then we will take the time," Sheeana announced. "Doing anything less would be foolhardy."

  Why do we find destruction so fascinating? When we see a terrible tragedy, do we think ourselves clever for having evaded it ourselves? Or is our fascination rooted in the thrill and fear of knowing we could be next?

  --MOTHER SUPERIOR ODRADE,

  Documentation of Consequences

  Murbella and Janess--mother and daughter, Mother Commander and Supreme Bashar--orbited the dead world of Richese. They rode in an observation ship, separate from the teams of engineers, who were still leery about the burned-out plague on Chapterhouse. Though the disease had run its course, the Ixians refused to be in a confined space with Murbella and Janess, who had been exposed to it.

  Nevertheless, alone in their small ship, the two women had a perfect view of the unfolding test.

  More than five years earlier, rebel Honored Matre ships from Tleilax had bombarded Richese, erasing not only the entire population, but also the weapons industries and the half-constructed battle fleet that was to have been delivered to the New Sisterhood. Now that the planet was lifeless, however, Richese was a perfectly appropriate place for the Ixians to demonstrate their new Obliterator weapons.

  Murbella opened the commline and spoke to the four accompanying test ships. "You take a smug pleasure in doing this, don't you, Chief Fabricator?"

  On the screen, Shayama Sen arched his eyebrows and jerked his head back in a fine display of innocence. "We're testing the weapon you ordered from us, Mother Commander. You asked for a demonstration, rather than taking us at our word. We must prove that our technology functions as advertised."

  "And the rivalry between Ix and Richese had nothing to do with your choice of targets?" She barely held her sarcasm in check.

  "Richese is just a historical footnote, Mother Commander. Any enjoyment Ixians might have taken from our rivals' unfortunate fate has long since faded." After a pause, Sen added, "We admit, however, that the irony does not escape us."

  Since last visiting her high above Chapterhouse, the factory leader sounded subtly changed. Recently, when Sen had come back to deliver full records of all their tests on Ix, he had seemed surprised, even embarrassed. He had followed her suspicious suggestion and used the cellular test on all of his people, with the result that twenty-two Face Dancers had been exposed, all of them working in critical industries.

  Murbella would have liked to interrogate them, maybe even apply an Ixian T-probe. But those Face Dancers who weren't immediately killed took their own lives, somehow using a machinelike suicide shutdown in their own brains. The lost opportunity angered her, but she doubted her Sisters would have learned anything from the shape-shifters anyway. Nevertheless, she was glad to have installed eight trusted inspectors to watch over the industrial progress from that point onward.

  "Our delivery schedule is tight, Mother Commander, as you demanded," Sen transmitted. "We are arming the ships from Junction as quickly as possible. After seeing these four Obliterators successfully tested, you can't deny that our technology is reliable."

  "It seems a shame to waste such destructive power on a target that doesn't harm the true enemy," Janess said. "But we require proof." Both of them had reviewed earlier films of the tests, but those could have been faked.

  "I still want to see it with my own eyes," Murbella said. "Then we'll throw everything into a defense against the machine advance."

  "Deploying the nodes now," transmitted one of the Ixian pilots. "Please observe."

  Four balls of light spat from the quartet of Ixian ships, and the incandescent Obliterators spun like pinwheels toward the cracked world below. They shuddered and expanded as they descended, throwing off rippling waves that grew brighter instead of dampening.

  The atmosphere of Richese had already been scorched, its forests and cities leveled in the first chain reaction. Even so, the Ixian-modified weapons found sufficient fuel to set the world ablaze all over again.

  Murbella remained silent as she watched the awesome swiftness of the flame fronts. She stared without blinking until her eyes felt dry. The planet flared like an ember in a breeze. Cracks appeared across the continents; orange rifts blazed up. Finally, she spoke to her daughter, not caring that the Ixians could overhear on the open commline. "If we deploy such a weapon in the midst of a thinking-machine battle fleet, it will wreak inconceivable havoc."

  "We might actually have a chance," Janess said.

  Shayama Sen interrupted through the speakers, "You assume, Mother Commander, that the thinking machines will be foolish enough to fly their ships in such a tight cluster that one weapon will suffice."

  "We know a great deal about the Enemy's battle plan and how their fleet has been advancing. They do not use foldspace engines, so they move methodically from one
target to the next, step by step. With the thinking machines there are few surprises." Murbella looked at her daughter, then back at the burning planet before snapping orders to the Ixians. "Very well, no need to squander any more Obliterators. When we finally hurl them at machine battleships, that will be demonstration enough for me. I want at least ten Obliterators aboard each of our new warships. No more delays! We have waited too long already."

  "It will be done, Mother Commander," Sen said.

  Murbella chewed at her lower lip as she watched Richese continue to blaze. It wasn't like the Chief Fabricator to be so cooperative, failing to demand additional payment. Perhaps, after seeing countless worlds already destroyed, the Ixians had at last recognized their true enemy.

  Whether we see them or not, there are nets everywhere, encompassing our individual and collective lives. Sometimes it is necessary to ignore them, for the sake of our own sanity.

  --ship's log, entry of

  DUNCAN IDAHO

  Face Dancers aboard.

  In her quarters with little Alia and twelve-year-old Leto, Jessica felt very much like a mother again--after all these centuries. The three of them had a shared past and bloodline, but no other knowledge or memories in common. Not yet. To Jessica it seemed that they were little more than actors memorizing lines and playing roles, trying to be who they were supposed to be. Her body was only seventeen, but she felt much older as she comforted the two younger ones.

  "What is a Face Dancer?" three-year-old Alia asked, toying with a sharp knife she kept at her side. Since the time she could walk, the girl had harbored a fascination for weapons, and she often sought permission to practice with them, rather than playing with more appropriate toys. "Are they coming to get us?"

  "They're already in the ship," Leto said, still shaken. He could not believe that Thufir had been a Face Dancer and that he hadn't known it. "That's why we were all tested."

  "No others have been found yet," Jessica said. She and Thufir had been decanted in the same year. In the creche, she had been raised with the ghola of the warrior-Mentat, and never had she noticed any change in his personality. It did not seem possible that Thufir could have been a Face Dancer from the very beginning.