Sisterhood of Dune (67 page)

Two older officers followed, and then Emperor Salvador Corrino himself emerged with his brother, Roderick, and an imperious-looking Sister Dorotea two steps behind.

Valya made her disgust clear. “As I thought, Dorotea betrayed us.”

“She did something, that’s for certain. I’m going to speak with them directly.”

Valya drew courage from within herself, straightened her back. “If the Emperor is here to demand revenge for what happened to Anna, I should accompany you.”

“I am Reverend Mother. The responsibility is mine.” Raquella’s smile had little reassurance. “But, yes, I do want you to come along. Maybe we can salvage this situation, show them what they want to see.” She turned to the aged Sorceress. “Karee, gather the Sister Mentats and have them wait for us in the caves with the breeding records. We will allow the Emperor to search anywhere he likes, and hope we can convince him that the Sisterhood uses only human computers.”

Karee Marques hurried off as Raquella and Valya descended the path.

In front of the Imperial flagship, attendants busied themselves setting up a small pavilion and a sturdy chair for the Emperor, out where he could observe the operations. Salvador wore full military dress complete with a Chandler sidearm. A lavish display of medals, ribbons, and golden lion designs across the chest made his red jacket look more like a costume than a real commander’s uniform. As he saw the Reverend Mother approach, his voice boomed out, amplified across speaker systems on the landed ships, “Planet Rossak is currently under lockdown, pending an investigation into allegations of egregious crimes against humanity.”

Her head held high, Raquella walked on the paved expanse of treetops where the ships had landed; her entourage followed closely, but she did not look back at them. “Your military might is impressive, Sire, and these Sisters acknowledge your authority.” She strode closer, showing no fear, and Salvador scrambled to situate himself on his temporary throne. Roderick and Dorotea took positions on either side of him.

“I represent this school,” Raquella continued, “and I speak for these women. I dispatched our Reverend Mother Dorotea to return your sister, Anna, along with my sincerest apologies for the harm she suffered.” She gestured to the military troops who stood at attention around the Emperor. “Obviously, that was insufficient. How else do you require me to atone for that terrible accident?”

Salvador fidgeted on his throne. “That isn’t why we’ve come at all.” He looked to Roderick in irritation, then lifted his chin and cleared his throat. “In addition to the tragedy that befell our dear sister, we have received reports that your school uses outlawed thinking machines to manage your extensive breeding records.” He sniffed a whistling breath through his narrow nose. “I am also aware that you have made projections about which families and individuals should be allowed to reproduce—and I didn’t pass the test.”

Now Raquella felt ice water wash through her veins. She had not expected this. As a Reverend Mother, Dorotea had access to Other Memories, and through them she could have learned about the computers—but she could not possibly have known about the projected flaw in Salvador’s genetics. The Sister Mentats would not have told her, so only Dr. Zhoma could have made that particular revelation. Either the Suk doctor had betrayed Raquella outright, or she’d been caught and tortured. The whisper of Other Memory voices suddenly grew so loud and alarmed that Raquella could barely think.

Salvador lowered his voice to a growl, so that only Raquella and the nearby Sisters could hear. “Your breeding records are fatally flawed if they say that your Emperor cannot be allowed to produce an heir.” His nostrils flared; he seemed embarrassed to add this charge to the list of the Sisterhood’s crimes, not wanting to call attention to the idea that his own genetics might be faulty.

Raquella chose to be audacious. “Sister Dorotea says these things?” She shook her head, feigning sadness. “It is to be expected. She only recently took poison, a near-fatal ordeal as part of the transformation to become a Reverend Mother. Delusions and psychological damage often result from such a massive dose of mind-altering drugs. You saw the unfortunate side effects that your dear sister, Anna, suffered as a result of a similar overdose.” She saw the rising anger plain on Dorotea’s face, but continued to gaze dispassionately at the Emperor. “Did my granddaughter also reveal to you that she herself lay in a coma for days before emerging, alive but changed?”

“Granddaughter?” The Emperor flashed an accusatory look at Dorotea, then back at Raquella. “Are you saying this could all have been an hallucination? If this woman was unstable, why did you send her to the Imperial Court?”

Raquella continued. “The desperate situation with Anna required an immediate response, and we chose Dorotea, my own granddaughter, as our representative because of her past service to the Imperial throne. I believed she had recovered, but now I fear she has begun to suffer delusions.”

Dorotea’s voice had a sharp edge. “The Reverend Mother can cast doubts all she likes, Sire. But the Sisterhood has a chamber filled with computers—that is all the proof we need.”

“‘In all ways, humans are superior to machines,’” Raquella said, almost an intonation.

“Don’t quote the
Orange Catholic Bible
to me,” Salvador snapped. “I just released a new edition in my own name.”

She answered more carefully. “During the Jihad, I worked with Mohandas Suk to aid the victims of machine plagues, so I’ve seen firsthand the evils of thinking machines. I watched entire populations die because of them, so I would never try to recreate them here.”

Roderick Corrino stepped forward when it was obvious the Emperor didn’t know what to say. “We have enough concerns to warrant a search of Rossak, and a purge if necessary.”

“There
are
computers here,” Dorotea insisted.

“And where exactly are these computers, Granddaughter?” Raquella’s gentle questioning made it clear that she pitied the other woman. “Have you seen them—other than in a dream?”

“I’ve seen them in my Other Memories. The voices told me about them—
your
memories told me.”

With a knowing nod, Raquella spoke to the Emperor. “I see. She has voices in her head.” It was all she needed to say.

“Show me where you keep these breeding records, in whatever form,” Salvador demanded, rising from his throne. “I want to see the ones that refer to my family line, and my offspring.”

With a smile, Raquella said, “Let me take you to our archives in the restricted caves.”

Everything was prepared. Breeding charts and labyrinthine family trees were kept in inefficient but durable handwritten form. The files were by no means complete, but would be handed over to the Emperor. Sister Mentats had assembled the appropriate volumes.

As she led the way up the trail, Raquella’s mind raced. What did the Emperor know? Had he interrogated Dr. Zhoma? Had the Suk doctor already managed to slip a chemical sterilization drug into his food, or had she failed entirely? “As you well know, Sire, compiling a vast database of genetic information has been a vital project for centuries on Rossak. We do have information on the Butlers and the Corrinos, as well as all important families. The Sorceresses, and my Sisters, have never made any secret of this.”

While the extensive military presence remained in position, she led the Emperor and his entourage up the restricted cliff path to the upper caves. Once inside, Raquella showed them the former computer chamber, which now contained only tables, desks, and bookcases filled with bound copies of breeding records. Seven black-robed Sister Mentats sat at the tables absorbing the information, overseen by the Sorceress-Mentat Karee Marques.

Karee removed one of the volumes from a shelf, and displayed it for Emperor Salvador. “Sire, we have eight Sister Mentats whose full-time assignment is to commit centuries of information to memory, adding to what we already know. Once we have sufficient data, we can begin to perform analyses and projections. These women are human computers, trained on Lampadas in a school supported by the Butlerians.”

In fury, Dorotea ran to the shelved volumes, opened several of them, and scattered them on the floor. Her voice became shrill. “The thinking machines were here! Computer databases filled with centuries of information, making bloodline projections down the generations!”

Roderick and the Emperor looked at other volumes, as did some of the unimpressed military officers. Red-faced, Salvador glared at Dorotea, who looked desperate. Pulling away from the group, she ran from chamber to chamber, searching, but found nothing. Finally, she stood in a doorway, with a confused and angry expression on her face. “Sire, they must have hidden the computers somewhere!”

Raquella responded in her most reasonable tone, “You are welcome to search the entire cliff city, Sire. The Sisterhood’s only ‘thinking machines’ are our human computers. With Mentats, we need no forbidden technology.”

Valya spoke up, sounding nervous, but Raquella knew the quaver in her voice was a careful act. “Excuse me, your Highness, but it is possible that Sister Dorotea is guilt-ridden over what happened to your poor sister. Dorotea works in the Sisterhood’s pharmaceutical research laboratories, and she is the one who formulated the poison dose that Anna consumed.”

Dorotea’s eyes widened as she heard this. “I gave the capsule to
you,
Valya, not to Anna Corrino.”

“You’re mistaken. I still have the dose you gave me.” As proof, she withdrew a small, dark pill from a pocket in her robe.

Old Karee Marques gave Dorotea a damning look, then faced the Emperor. “Sister Valya is correct, Sire. Dorotea assists me in the pharmaceutical laboratory. The drugs are meant to be administered under only the most carefully controlled circumstances, but she mistakenly allowed a very dangerous dose to leave the labs, unmonitored. Against all warnings, your poor sister took the poison.”

Dorotea sputtered in protest, but Salvador was clearly growing angry and impatient with her. “We’ve heard enough from you for today. I see this investigation will have to go much further than I expected.”

Even though Raquella had made Dorotea look foolish, she did not feel safe. The Emperor had no proof, but he had suspicions. Maintaining her composure, she looked him in the eye and said, “You will have our full cooperation, Sire.”

A worthy opponent is more satisfying than any financial reward.

—
GILBERTUS ALBANS,
Tactical Manual,
Mentat School of Lampadas

The explosions that ripped apart three of the Thonaris automated factories removed any doubt from Josef Venport’s mind. Even he had not expected the barbarians to be so bloodthirsty—ignorant, yes, but not so vicious.

“Damn you and your stupid fear of what you don’t understand,” he whispered. It was all Josef could do to hold his shouts within. He wished Cioba could be there with him, but at the same time he felt relief that she was safe on Kolhar.

Not long ago, when the scientist Ptolemy had come to Kolhar describing the Half-Manford’s murderous attack on his lab, Josef assumed he had exaggerated the extent of the violence; now he saw for himself that the Butlerians were rampaging mad dogs. They had not targeted the administration hub yet, but Josef did not expect any sympathy from the legless wonder.

He turned to the Mentat beside him. “He killed dozens of my people who were operating the machines, destroyed those facilities. He won’t stop—you know that.”

Observing the destruction, Draigo Roget’s eyes flicked back and forth as thoughts whirled through his mind. “That precipitous act was designed to force you to surrender. Their military force is far superior to our own.”

On the comm, Manford’s voice scraped like wire bristles as he delivered his ultimatum. “We will destroy the remaining robotic factories if you do not capitulate in five minutes.”

Venport muted the sound and whirled to face Draigo. “Give me an alternative, Mentat! I vow to you that I will not surrender these shipyards without a fight. Use your tactical knowledge. Use anything we have available, and find me a way to defeat Manford Torondo.”

“That will be difficult, sir. We will be lucky to leave here with our lives.”

Josef breathed in, exhaled, and stared intently out at the Thonaris complex and the looming barbarian fleet. “Then at least find me a way to hurt him.”

*   *   *

GILBERTUS HAD ALREADY
memorized the positions of the various planetoids, the main facilities, the thirty armed VenHold patrol ships, the fifteen uncategorized VenHold vessels in the complex, and the group of vessels under construction. Using techniques that Erasmus had taught him a long time ago, he assembled a mental three-dimensional blueprint of the whole complex and then poked at it, trying to find flaws, imagining any way that a desperate, possibly suicidal opponent could use those game pieces to defend against the overwhelming Butlerian force. He didn’t expect Josef Venport to accept defeat easily.

At the Mentat School, Gilbertus had played many tactical games like this with his best student, Draigo—thought experiments and practice sessions that were much like the games he and Erasmus had played on Corrin. Now that Manford Torondo had forced him to accompany the Butlerian fleet, the exercise seemed much more real to him. The firsthand experience gave him data that he had not previously possessed. Destroying these automated factories and the spacedocks with their half-assembled ships was not the same as accruing points in an academic, tallied score.

Though he could never say such things aloud, especially in the presence of the Butlerians, he remembered with fondness the cool efficiency of robotic factories, the predictability of a steady output. As far as Gilbertus was concerned, his time with Erasmus had been calm and comforting, far different from the wild whipsaw of emotions displayed by the volatile Butlerians. Real human workers had just died in those explosions. It was all very unsettling. Manford had not even bothered to investigate what he intended to destroy.