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Dune [Frank Herbert's Dune Saga Collection: Books 1 - 6]
- Автор: Херберт Фрэнк
- Год: 2020
- Язык: английский
- Год: Penguin Publishing Group
- Жанр: Эпическое фэнтези
Электронная книга - «Dune [Frank Herbert's Dune Saga Collection: Books 1 - 6]». Краткое содержание книги:
*DUNE* IS SOON TO BE A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE directed by Denis Villeneuve, starring Timothée Chalamet, Josh Brolin, Jason Momoa, Zendaya, Rebecca Ferguson, Oscar Isaac, Javier Bardem, Dave Bautista, Stellan Skarsgård, and Charlotte Rampling.
In the far future, on a remote planet, an epic adventure awaits. Here are the first six novels of Frank Herbert’s magnificent Dune saga—a triumph of the imagination and one of the bestselling science fiction series of all time.
The Dune Saga begins on the desert planet Arrakis with the story of the boy Paul Atreides—who would become known as Muad’Dib—and of a great family’s ambition to bring to fruition humankind’s most ancient and unattainable dream....
Includes Books 1 - 6: DUNE • DUNE MESSIAH • CHILDREN OF DUNE • GOD EMPEROR OF DUNE • HERETICS OF DUNE • CHAPTERHOUSE: DUNE
The Futar panel opened and it came sliding out in its cage. So Spider Queen was on her way. Displaying threat ahead of her as usual. Early today. Earlier than ever.
“Good morning, Futar.” Lucilla spoke with a merry lilt.
The Futar looked at her but did not speak.
“You must hate it in that cage,” Lucilla said.
“Not like cage.”
She had already determined that these creatures possessed a degree of language facility but the extent of it still eluded her.
“I suppose she keeps you hungry, too. Would you like to eat me?”
“Eat.” Definite show of interest.
“I wish I were your Handler.”
“You Handler?”
“Would you obey me if I were?”
Spider Queen’s heavy chair lifted from its concealment under the floor. No sign of her yet but it had to be assumed she listened to these conversations.
The Futar stared at Lucilla with peculiar intensity.
“Do Handlers keep you caged and hungry?”
“Handler?” Clear inflections of a question.
“I want you to kill Great Honored Matre.” That would be no surprise to them.
“Kill Dama!”
“And eat her.”
“Dama poison.” Dejected.
Ooooh. Isn’t that an interesting bit of information!
“She’s not poison. Her meat is the same as mine.”
The Futar approached her to the cage’s limits. The left hand peeled down its lower lip. Angry redness of a scar there, appearance of a burn.
“See poison,” it said, dropping its hand.
I wonder how she did that? No smell of poison about her. Human flesh plus adrenaline-based drug to produce orange eyes in response to anger . . . and those other responses Murbella revealed. A sense of absolute superiority.
How far did Futar comprehension go? “Was it a bitter poison?”
The Futar grimaced and spat.
Action faster and more powerful than words.
“Do you hate Dama?”
Bared canines.
“Do you fear her?”
Smile.
“Then why don’t you kill her?”
“You not Handler.”
It requires a kill command from a Handler!
Great Honored Matre entered and sank into her chair.
Lucilla pitched her voice in the merry lilt: “Good morning, Dama.”
“I did not give you permission to call me that.” Low and with beginning flecks of orange in the eyes.
“Futar and I have been having a conversation.”
“I know.” More orange in the eyes. “And if you have spoiled him for me . . .”
“But Dama—”
“Don’t call me that!” Out of her chair, eyes blazing orange.
“Do sit down,” Lucilla said. “This is no way to conduct an interrogation.” Sarcasm, a dangerous weapon. “You said yesterday you wanted to continue our discussion of politics.”
“How do you know what time it is?” Sinking back in her chair but eyes still flaming.
“All Bene Gesserit have this ability. We can feel the rhythms of any planet after a short time on it.”
“A strange talent.”
“Anyone can do it. A matter of being sensitized.”
“Could I learn this?” Orange fading.
“I said anyone. You’re still human, aren’t you?” A question not yet fully answered.
“Why do you say you witches have no government?”
Wants to change the subject. Our abilities worry her. “That’s not what I said. We have no conventional government.”
“Not even a social code?”
“There’s no such thing as a social code to meet all necessities. A crime in one society can be a moral requirement in another society.”
“People always have government.” Orange completely faded. Why does this interest her so much?
“People have politics. I told you that yesterday. Politics: the art of appearing candid and completely open while concealing as much as possible.”
“So you witches conceal.”
“I did not say that. When we say ‘politics,’ that’s a warning to our Sisters.”
“I don’t believe you. Humans always create some form of . . .”
“Accord?”
“As good a word as any!” It angers her.
When Lucilla made no further response, Great Honored Matre leaned forward. “You’re concealing!”
“Isn’t it my right to hide from you things that might help you defeat us?” There’s a juicy morsel of bait!
“I thought so!” Leaning back with a look of satisfaction.
“However, why not reveal it? You think the niches of authority are always there for the filling and you don’t see what that says about my Sisterhood.”
“Oh, please tell me.” Heavy-handed with her sarcasm.
“You believe all of this conforms to instincts going back to tribal days and beyond. Chiefs and Elders. Mystery Mother and Council. And before that, the Strong Man (or Woman) who saw to it that everyone was fed, that all were guarded by fire at the cave’s mouth.”
“It makes sense.”
Does it really?
“Oh, I agree. Evolution of the forms is quite clearly laid out.”
“Evolution, witch! One thing piled on another.”
Evolution. See how she snaps at key words?
“It’s a force that can be brought under control by turning it upon itself.”
Control! Look at the interest you’ve aroused. She loves that word.
“So you make laws just like anyone else!”
“Regulations, perhaps, but isn’t everything temporary?”
Intensely interested. “Of course.”
“But your society is administered by bureaucrats who know they cannot apply the slightest imagination to what they do.”
“That’s important?” Really puzzled. Look at her scowl.
“Only to you, Honored Matre.”
“Great Honored Matre!” Isn’t she touchy!
“Why don’t you permit me to call you Dama?”
“We’re not intimates.”
“Is Futar an intimate?”
“Stop changing the subject!”
“Want tooth clean,” the Futar said.
“You shut up!” Really blazing.
The Futar sank to its haunches but it was not cowed.
Great Honored Matre turned her orange gaze toward Lucilla. “What about bureaucrats?”
“They have no room to maneuver because that’s the way their superiors grow fat. If you don’t see the difference between regulation and law, both have the force of law.”
“I see no difference.” She doesn’t know what she reveals.
“Laws convey the myth of enforced change. A bright new future will come because of this law or that one. Laws enforce the future. Regulations are believed to enforce the past.”
“Believed?” She doesn’t like that word, either.
“In each instance, action is illusory. Like appointing a committee to study a problem. The more people on the committee, the more preconceptions applied to the problem.”
Careful! She’s really thinking about this, applying it to herself.
Lucilla pitched her voice in its most reasonable tones. “You live by a past-magnified and try to understand some unrecognized future.”
“We don’t believe in prescience.” Yes, she does! At last. This is why she keeps us alive.
“Dama, please. There’s always something unbalanced about confining yourself to a tight circle of laws.”
Be careful! She didn’t bridle at your calling her Dama.
Great Honored Matre’s chair creaked as she shifted in it. “But laws are necessary!”
“Necessary? That’s dangerous.”
“How so?”
Softly. She feels threatened.