Dune [Frank Herbert's Dune Saga Collection: Books 1 - 6]

“We have no way of knowing yet, do we?” She looked at his console with new awareness. It was wrong to block such a mind. If they were to use him, they must use him fully.

“By the way, Bell,” as she stood to leave. “Honored Matres could be a relatively small group.”

Small? Didn’t he know how the Sisterhood was being overwhelmed by terrifying numbers on planet after planet?

“All numbers are relative. Is there something in the universe truly immovable? Our Old Empire could be a last retreat for them, Bell. A place to hide and try to regroup.”

“You suggested that before . . . to Dar.”

Not Mother Superior. Not Odrade. Dar. He smiled. “And perhaps we could help with Scytale.”

“We?”

“Murbella to gather information, I to assess it.”

He did not like the smile this produced.

“Precisely what are you suggesting?”

“Let our imaginations roam and fashion our experiments accordingly. Of what use would even a no-planet be if someone could penetrate the shielding?”

She glanced at the boy. Idaho knew their suspicion that the Bashar had seen the no-ships? Naturally! A Mentat of his abilities . . . bits and pieces assembled into a masterful projection.

“It would require the entire output of a G-3 sun to shield any halfway livable planet.” Dry and very cool the way she looked down at him.

“Nothing is out of the question in the Scattering.”

“But not within our present capabilities. Do you have something less ambitious?”

“Review the genetic markers in the cells of your people. Look for common patterns in Atreides inheritance. There may be talents you have not even guessed.”

“Your inventive imagination bounces around.”

“G-3 suns to genetics. There may be common factors.”

Why these mad suggestions? No-planets and people for whom prescient shields are transparent? What is he doing?

She did not flatter herself that he spoke only for her benefit. There were always the comeyes.

He remained silent, one arm thrown negligently across the boy’s shoulders. Both of them watching her! A challenge?

Be a Mentat if you can!

No-planets? As the mass of an object increased, energy to nullify gravitation passed thresholds matched to prime numbers. No-shields met even greater energy barriers. Another magnitude of exponential increase. Was Idaho suggesting that someone in the Scattering might have found a way around the problem? She asked him.

“Ixians have not penetrated Holzmann’s unification concept,” he said. “They merely use it—a theory that works even when you don’t understand it.”

Why does he direct my attention to the technocracy of Ix? Ixians had their fingers in too many pies for the Bene Gesserit to trust them.

“Aren’t you curious why the Tyrant never suppressed Ix?” he asked. And when she continued to stare at him: “He only bridled them. He was fascinated by the idea of human and machine inextricably bound to each other, each testing the limits of the other.”

“Cyborgs?”

“Among other things.”

Didn’t Idaho know the residue of revulsion left by the Butlerian Jihad even among the Bene Gesserit? Alarming! The convergence of what each—human and machine—could do. Considering machine limitations, that was a succinct description of Ixian shortsightedness. Was Idaho saying the Tyrant subscribed to the idea of Machine Intelligence? Foolishness! She turned away from him.

“You’re leaving too quickly, Bell. You should be more interested in Sheeana’s immunity to sexual bonding. The young men I send for polishing are not imprinted and neither is she. Yet no Honored Matre is more of an adept.”

Bellonda saw now the value Odrade placed in this ghola. Priceless! And I might have killed him. This nearness of that error filled her with dismay.

When she reached the doorway, he stopped her once more. “The Futars I saw on Gammu—why were we told they hunt and kill Honored Matres? Murbella knows nothing of this.”

Bellonda left without looking back. Everything she had learned about Idaho today increased his danger . . . but they had to live with it . . . for now.

Idaho took a deep breath and looked at the puzzled Teg. “Thank you for being here and I do appreciate the fact that you remained silent in the face of great provocation.”

“She wouldn’t really have killed you . . . would she?”

“If you had not gained me those first few seconds, she might have.”

“Why?”

“She has the mistaken idea that I might be a Kwisatz Haderach.”

“Like Muad’Dib?”

“And his son.”

“Well, she won’t hurt you now.”

Idaho looked at the door where Bellonda had gone. Reprieve. That was all he had achieved. Perhaps he no longer was just a cog in the machinations of others. They had achieved a new relationship, one that could keep him alive if carefully exploited. Emotional attachments had never figured in it, not even with Murbella . . . nor with Odrade. Deep down, Murbella resented sexual bondage as much as he did. Odrade might hint at ancient ties of Atreides loyalty but emotions in a Reverend Mother could not be trusted.