Miles Teg had been his mentor and his student, and Sheeana . . . ah, Sheeana. They had been lovers and sexual opponents. She had cured him and saved him, so of course he cared for her. He had tried to protect himself by denying it, but she hadn’t believed him, and he hadn’t believed himself. Both knew they had a bond unlike any other, different from the one he and Murbella had imposed upon one another.
As he studied the landscape below, it seemed to call to him. Many cities were discernible in the northern and southern forested latitudes. He felt he should be down there facing any possible dangers with the others, not stuck aboard the Ithaca, forced to remain safe and out of sight.
How long am I supposed to wait?
When he was Swordmaster of House Atreides he would never have hesitated. If it had been young Paul Atreides under threat, Duncan would have leapt in to fight for him, ignoring the intangible threat of the old man and woman. As the witches said in their oft-quoted Litany, I will face my fear. And it was about time he did so.
He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the spreading desert that looked like a seeping knife wound across the continent. “I will not ignore this.” Duncan summoned Thufir Hawat as well as Garimi, who had recently returned to the no-ship with all of her flying craft after reloading the Ithaca’s stores.
Duncan stood when they arrived. “We are going to rescue the landing party,” he announced, “and we’re going to do it now. I don’t know what kind of military force those people have down there, but we’ll stand against it if the Bashar is in trouble.”
Thufir’s eyes brightened and his face flushed. “I’ll pilot one of the ships.”
Duncan remained stern. “No, you will follow my orders.”
Garimi was taken aback by Duncan’s bold comment, but nodded as she heard him rebuke Thufir. “Do you have instructions for us before we depart? Shall I command the mission?”
“No—I will do it personally.” Before either could argue with him, Duncan strode toward the lift, and they were forced to follow him. “I’m sick of hiding. My plan has been to run and remain unobtrusive, staying one step ahead of that strange net. But in doing so, I’ve left too much of myself behind. I am Duncan Idaho.” He raised his voice as they entered the lift. “I was Swordmaster of House Atreides and consort of St. Alia of the Knife. I acted as advisor and companion to the God Emperor. If the Enemy is out there, I won’t leave the rest of humanity to face it themselves. If Sheeana and the Bashar need my help, then I’m going to help.”
Thufir stiffened, then allowed himself a pleased smile. “You should have left the Ithaca long ago, Duncan. I don’t see what you’ve accomplished by staying here. The no-field hasn’t exactly offered perfect protection.”
Garimi seemed pleased by Duncan’s attitude. “My recovery teams took a good look at that planet down there, and it seems a fine place to settle. Does that mean you’ll stop opposing my efforts and let us form a colony at last?”
The lift doors closed, and the group began to drop toward the hangar decks where the many ships were being refueled. “That remains to be seen.”
TEG BIDED HIS time in the camp long after Stilgar and Liet flew off into the early morning. By now, Duncan would certainly have drawn the obvious conclusions.
“Do you think they’ll kill us, after all?” Sheeana’s tone was surprisingly matter-of-fact, as if she had accepted the inevitable.
“Maybe just you. You’re the one they blame.” He spoke without humor. Though they were allowed to sit on the ground outside, their captors still watched them closely.
She sipped from a small cup of water that had been provided. “Is that a joke?”
“A distraction.” Teg glanced up at the sky. “We have to trust Duncan to decide on the correct response.”
“Maybe he thinks we can handle this ourselves. Duncan has great confidence in our independent abilities.”
“As do I. Should it become necessary, I could slaughter every one of these people.” He chose the word intentionally. Slaughter. As he had done with the Honored Matres in their fortress on Gammu. “And it would take me no longer than the blink of an eye. You know it.”
Sheeana had seen him move against the Handlers, helping her, Thufir, and the Rabbi escape, and she had also seen how much that brief burst of energy had drained him. “Yes, I know, Miles. And I pray it doesn’t become necessary.”
Off in the distance they heard the whining drone of the small flyer returning from the desert. Teg’s sharply attuned ears recognized its sputtering engine sound. The villagers gathered at the packed landing zone, anxious to receive the hunting party. First, two specks appeared in the sky, flying low; then they were joined by many more dots, like a dispersed flock of migrating birds. The drone grew to a roar.
Teg shaded his eyes, identifying many of the flying craft. “Mining shuttles and lighters from the no-ship. So this is how Duncan plans to rescue us. He’s trying to impress them. It appears he sent everything we have.”
“We certainly have superior firepower. Duncan could have taken the direct method and rescued us by force of arms.”
Watching the ships come closer, Teg smiled. “He’s smarter than that. Like me, he wants to avoid bloodshed, especially in a conflict he doesn’t entirely understand.” Did I teach him that lesson, or did he teach me? As the Bashar reflected on their past lives, he didn’t know the answer.
More than forty craft landed together in a flat, open space at the outskirts of the village. They weren’t war vessels or armored attack ships, though some had defensive weapons. The Bashar stepped with Sheeana away from the tents, to face the largest mining shuttle. No one tried to stop them; the people were too awed by what they saw.
It surprised Teg to see Duncan Idaho himself march down the ramp of the lead craft, wearing his traditional House Atreides uniform, complete with polished boots and the starburst insignia of his rank. If the Qelsans had been gone from the Old Empire for fifteen centuries, they weren’t likely to recognize any of the symbols, but Teg thought the uniform gave his friend a distinguished aura of command, and undoubtedly provided self-assurance.
Duncan swept his gaze across the confused villagers, finally spotting Teg and Sheeana. The relief on his face was obvious as he made his way to them. “You’re still alive. And unhurt?”
“Stuka isn’t,” Sheeana said with an edge of bitterness.
“You shouldn’t have left the no-ship,” Teg said. “You’re vulnerable now, visible to the searchers and their wide net.”
“Let them find me.” Duncan appeared stony, as if he had reached an inescapable conclusion. “This endless chase and hiding accomplishes nothing. I can’t defeat the Enemy unless I confront them.”
Sheeana glanced nervously at the sky, as if expecting the old man and woman to appear suddenly. “Garimi could have led the attack, or even Thufir. Instead, you let yourself be swayed by your emotions.”
“I factored them in when I made my correct decision.” Duncan’s face flushed, as if he were hiding the real answer, and he rushed ahead with an explanation. “By comline, I spoke with Stilgar and Liet-Kynes aboard the flyer. We intercepted them out in the desert, so I have some inkling of what’s going on here. I know how they killed Stuka—and why.”
“And you’re surprised to see me alive?” Sheeana asked. “Grateful, too, I hope.”
Teg interrupted. “The death of Stuka was a tragic overreaction. These people made assumptions about us.”
Nodding, Duncan said, “Yes, Miles. And if I had made an overzealous response with superior firepower, that would have caused many more deaths and a much greater tragedy. In one of my earlier lives I might have done exactly that, but I only needed to think about what you would have done.”
Stilgar and Liet emerged with the commandos from the tanker. The two young gholas displayed a hardness to them now, and new life behind their eyes. The Fremen naib and the planetologist had found something on Qelso that reenergized them and transported them to other times.
Teg unde
rstood what all the gholas had gone through since recovering their memories. They had been sheltered and comfortable aboard the Ithaca, forced to content themselves with reading about their pasts and watching the sandworms in the cargo hold, as if they were specimens in a zoo. But these gholas could remember the real Arrakis. The lives of Stilgar and Kynes had not been safer or more comfortable in the tumultuous old days, but there had been a certain sharp definition to who they were.
Others continued to emerge from the landed vessels: Thufir, Garimi and more than a dozen Sisters, muscular male Bene Gesserit workers, second-generation children born aboard the no-ship setting foot on a real planet for the very first time in their lives. Five of the Rabbi’s followers stood in bright sunlight, looking around in wonder at the landscape, at the open spaces. Presently the old man himself emerged, blinking his bespectacled, owlish eyes.
Var looked admiringly at the mining shuttles and lighters, at his new companions Stilgar and Liet. He raised his chin. Apparently, Duncan had also spoken with the village leader at length during their flight back from the desert. “Duncan Idaho, you know what trials we face here, what we’ve been driven to do. We are the only ones who’ll stand against the death of this planet. We did not bring the desert here. You have no right to condemn us.”
“I didn’t condemn you for your struggle, but I can’t condone what you did to our companion. Years ago, Bene Gesserit visitors to your world acted without considering the consequences of what they were doing to you. And now it appears you have done the same thing.”
The old leader shook his head. His eyes burned with anger and righteousness. “We killed the witches responsible for depositing sandtrout here. Finding another witch, we killed her too.”
Duncan abruptly cut off what was sure to be a pointless argument. “We will take our friends and leave you. I’ll let you have your fruitless fight against a desert you can’t defeat.”
Teg and Sheeana stepped forward, anxious to leave this place. Liet and Stilgar, though, held back and looked at each other. The latter squared his shoulders and said, “Duncan, Bashar . . . Liet and I are having second thoughts. This is the desert—not our desert, but closer than anything we have yet encountered as gholas. We were brought back to life for a purpose. The skills from our past lives can be vital resources in a place like this.”
Liet-Kynes picked up the speech as if he and Stilgar had rehearsed what they were going to say. “Look around. Can you imagine a world where our talents are more desperately needed? We are trained as fighters against impossible odds. We’re used to desert combat. As a planetologist, I know the best ways to control the spread of the dunes, and I understand more about the sandworm cycle than most people.”
Stilgar added, his passion rising, “We can show these fighters how to build sietches in the harshest desert. We can teach them to make real stillsuits. One day, perhaps, we shall even ride the great worms again.” His voice cracked. “No one can stop the desert, but we can keep the people alive. The rest of you go back to the no-ship, but the Qelsans need us here.”
Sheeana stopped at the hatch of the nearest ship, clearly displeased. “That is not possible. We need you, and all of the gholas, aboard the Ithaca. Each one of you was created, raised, and trained to assist us against the Enemy.”
“But no one knows how, Sheeana,” Duncan pointed out, moved by what the two young men had said. “None of you can say for certain why we need Stilgar and Liet. And what exactly is our fight?”
“We are not your tools or game pieces.” Stilgar crossed his arms over his chest. “We are human beings with free will, regardless of how we might have been created. I never asked to serve the Bene Gesserit witches.”
Liet stood by his friend. “This is what we want to do, and who’s to say it isn’t our destiny? We could save a planet, or at least its population. Isn’t that an important enough goal?”
Teg understood the dilemma all too well. These two had found a connection they could hold onto, a battle they could fight that did indeed require their specific abilities. He himself had been created as a pawn, and he’d been forced to play that role. “Let them go, Sheeana. You have enough experimental subjects on the ship.”
Thufir Hawat came up to the Bashar, relieved to see his mentor safe. He shot a disturbed glance toward Sheeana. “Is that all we are to them, Bashar? Experimental subjects?”
“In a certain sense. And now we must go back to our cage.” He was anxious to leave this dying planet before other problems arose.
“Not so fast,” the old Rabbi said, stepping forward. “My people are not, and never have been, part of your reckless flight across space. We’ve always wanted a world to settle. Compared to metal decks and small chambers, this planet looks good enough.”
“Qelso is dying,” Sheeana said. The Rabbi and his hardworking companions simply shrugged.
Var scowled, as did some of the nomadic villagers nearest him. “We do not need any further drain on our resources. You are welcome here only if you intend to fight back against the desert.”
Isaac, one of the strong Jewish men, nodded. “If we decide to stay here, we will fight and work. Our people are no strangers to surviving when the rest of the universe is pitted against us.”
No matter where I go, no matter what I leave behind, my past is always with me, like a shadow.
—DUNCAN IDAHO,
no-ship logs
Liet-Kynes and Stilgar returned briefly to the Ithaca to retrieve informational archives and some of the equipment they would need to monitor Qelso’s changing climate. Liet even converted several spare sensor buoys into orbital weathersats, which the no-ship deployed.
He said his goodbyes to the other ghola children who had been raised with him—Paul Atreides, Jessica, Leto II. And Chani, his own daughter. With a surge of emotion, Liet grasped the hand of the young woman, who was physically almost three years older than he. He smiled at her. “Chani, someday you will remember me as I was on Arrakis—busy in the sietches, working as the Imperial Planetologist or the Judge of the Change, carrying on my father’s dream for the Fremen and for Dune.”
Her expression was intense, as if she struggled to grasp some faint flicker of memory as she listened to him. Releasing her hand, he touched her forehead, her dark red hair. “Maybe I was a strong leader, but I’m afraid I wasn’t much of a father. So I must tell you, before I go, that I love you. Then and now. When you remember me, remember all we shared.”
“I will. If I remembered everything now, I’d probably want to go with you back to the desert. And so would Usul.”
Beside them, Paul shook his head. “My place is here. Our fight is bigger than one desert.”
Stilgar took his friend’s arm, urging Liet to hurry. “This planet is large enough for us. I feel in my soul that this is why Liet and I have been brought back, whether or not Sheeana realizes it. Perhaps someday, no matter how it appears now, we will all see that this is part of the greater battle.”
Meanwhile, the Rabbi spoke to his fifty-two enthusiastic followers at their stations on the no-ship. Isaac and Levi had taken over many of the old man’s duties, and at his signal they directed the Jews to gather their possessions and bring prefabricated shelters from the Ithaca’s vast storage chambers. Soon, all of them had shuttled down to the surface, where they disembarked and began unloading the landed cargo ships under Isaac’s direction.
On the ground Var strode through the activity, marshalling his followers. He ran a covetous eye over several of the craft that Duncan had brought down during his show of force. “Those mining shuttles would be a great help to us for carrying supplies and water across the continent.”
Sheeana shook her head. “Those ships belong to the Ithaca. We may need them.”
Var glowered at her. “Small enough compensation for causing the death of an entire world, I’d say.”
“I didn’t contribute to the death of your world. You, however, killed Stuka in cold blood, before—”
Quickly, Teg went
into Mentat mode, mentally inventorying the supplies and equipment they carried aboard the no-ship. To Sheeana, he murmured, “Although we had no part in the damage done to this world, we did resupply our ship here, and many of our people are staying behind as settlers. A token payment is not unreasonable.” When she nodded, Teg turned to Var. “We can spare two shuttles. No more.”
“And two desert experts,” Liet piped up. “Stilgar and me.”
“Not to mention a willing and hardy workforce. You’ll be glad to have the Jews here.” Teg had noticed how industrious the Rabbi’s people were. He expected they would do well on this planet, even as the climate turned harsher. Someday, however, they might decide that Qelso wasn’t their promised land after all.
NOT SURPRISINGLY, GARIMI and her conservative followers also wanted to leave the no-ship permanently. More than a hundred of the Sisters asked to be released from the Ithaca to settle on Qelso, even with its ever-growing desert. There, they planned to establish the foundation for their new order. Back on the no-ship, Garimi announced their choice to Sheeana more as a courtesy than a matter for discussion.
But the people of Qelso would hear none of that. They met the Sisters’ landed shuttle with drawn weapons. Var stood with his arms crossed over his chest. “We accept Liet-Kynes and Stilgar among us, as well as the Jews. But no Bene Gesserit witch is welcome here.”
“No witches!” other Qelsans cried, their expressions suddenly murderous. “If we find them, we kill them.”
Having accompanied them for a farewell, Sheeana tried to speak on Garimi’s behalf. “We could take them to the other side of the continent. You would never know about their settlement. I promise, they’ll cause you no trouble.”
But the incensed Qelsans were not inclined to listen, and Var spoke again. “Your kind act only for the benefit of the Sisterhood. We welcomed them once, to our deep and lasting regret. Now Qelsans act for the benefit of Qelso. No member of your Sisterhood is welcome here. Short of violence, I cannot be more clear than that.”
Sandworms of Dune Page 21