Before leaving Kolhar, she dispatched three highly paid mercenary pilots aboard spacefolder scouts, each with redundant messages, to inform the Jihad Council so they could begin to spread the word. By the time she and Vor arrived, major changes should already be under way.
Then she ordered her son Adrien to alter all VenKee activities, increasing spice production and distribution to the highest possible levels. Finally, she followed Vor to his black-and-silver spacecraft. “I will concentrate better aboard your ship than here.” She indicated the shipyards, where reconstruction and emergency repairs were still under way from the recent explosion. “We should go as soon as possible.”
As they lifted off, Vor used only moderate acceleration, but after Norma assured him that her body could withstand even greater stresses than his could, Vor once again pushed the Dream Voyager to punishing speeds. The update ship shot out of the system on a direct vector for Salusa Secundus.
En route, Norma occupied herself with her thoughts and calculations, surrounded by notes, electronic drawing boards, and other materials from her Kolhar office. Curiously, though, she did not need to use any of those items. Instead, she found herself journeying inward in her mind as she absorbed and processed massive amounts of information. She found her mental capacity increasing beyond all imaginable limits.
Vor hardly felt as if he actually had human company during the journey, but he was accustomed to flying alone. During the tedious, quiet hours, he thought fondly of the days when he’d accompanied Seurat. In the current climate of war and pestilence, Vor could have used the distraction of a few good games or even the robot pilot’s clumsy attempts at humor.
* * *
THE DREAM VOYAGER jerked as it settled on a windy field at Zimia Spaceport in the middle of the day. Norma emerged from her preoccupied trance, looked through the window port in her cabin, and saw the capital city. “We’re there already?”
On the way to the Hall of Parliament she and Vor learned that the Scourge had grown seriously worse in only the few weeks of their passage, having appeared on a dozen more planets. The League’s best medical scientists didn’t know how to fight it, though Raquella’s revelation about melange, already delivered by the spacefolder scouts, had suddenly created a huge demand for the spice. Even knowing it existed as an effective treatment, if not a cure, did not help all those planets without access to enough melange.
Norma hoped that her announcement would change that.
With a mental command, she adjusted her appearance, smoothing her blond hair and softening her facial features. Although physical beauty meant little to her, so long as her body functioned well enough to perform the tasks she demanded of it, Norma made this extra effort to honor her late husband.
As she accompanied the dashing Supreme Commander up the steps, she saw quite clearly her essential place in the unfolding history of mankind. Norma viewed herself only in an ephemeral sense, a breath of oxygen to keep a candle going. She did not care about being remembered by history; she cared only about the work itself. And saving lives.
“Are you ready for this?” Vor asked. “You seem far away.”
“I am… everywhere.” She blinked, then focused on the towering building in front of her. “Yes, I am here.”
While they approached the Hall of Parliament, a group of yellow-robed men hurriedly exited, carrying a clearplaz canister that held a disembodied brain. Norma looked at it curiously as the preoccupied group passed. Although she had never personally interacted with one of the ancient brains, her mother Zufa had spoken of their arcane ways.
“Vidad, one of the Ivory Tower Cogitors,” Vor said with clear distaste in his voice. He urged her through the arched doorway and into the echoing, bustling halls. “I won’t let them interfere this time, as they did with that foolish attempt at peace.”
After Serena had martyred herself to repair the damage the Ivory Tower Cogitors had done, Vidad had spent more than half a century on Salusa Secundus, studying historical records and recent philosophical treatises. He also acted the part of a political gadfly, meddling in the affairs of the Jihad Council. Vor wished he would go back to his comrades on frozen Hessra.
When they arrived, Grand Patriarch Xander Boro-Ginjo was presiding, wearing the gaudy and ornate chain of office around his neck that was a prominent symbol of his position as the spiritual leader of his people. Beside him sat the tall and gaunt Interim Viceroy O’Kukovich. Though ostensibly the political leader of the League of Nobles, the man had very little real power; he was merely filler, like putty stuffed into a hole.
In the front row of the assembly chamber, Vor and Norma took two reserved seats. Their arrival caused a noticeable stir, even though the Parliament had been in a long session, discussing the rapidly spreading Scourge. So far, fifteen planets were known to be infected, and everyone dreaded that further bad news was slowly en route. The Jihad Council had already suggested extreme military strategies to keep Salusa Secundus clean and safe.
Vor studied the agenda, saw a long list of reports and speakers, all of them marked URGENT. He sighed and sat back. “We’ll be a while yet.”
Norma heard panic in the voices of the speakers, saw it in their faces. Nearby representatives whispered nervously among themselves. Though she continued her thoughts and calculations in the background of her mind, she grasped the magnitude of the disaster as she listened to one urgent summary after another. No one on Salusa Secundus had been infected yet, and a serious proposal was before the parliament to impose a total blockade to safeguard the population of the planet.
Norma sat up as the next speaker addressed the audience: the leader of the Sorceresses of Rossak, her own half sister Ticia Cenva. Her alabaster face rippling with a storm of passion, her long blond hair and bone-white robe waving faintly in a nonexistent breeze, Ticia stared in silence, cowing the audience with the import of her presence.
Watching her, Norma did not expect a smile of greeting or even a nod of acknowledgment from her half sister. Despite their extraordinary talents, her family was fractured, all the pieces separated widely.
For years her mother had snubbed Norma as a failure, concentrating utterly on her work for the Jihad. Because of her powers as a great Sorceress, Zufa Cenva had long anticipated a perfect daughter, but by the time she finally gave birth to flawless Ticia, Norma had been transformed beyond her mother’s wildest hopes. Thus, ignoring the daughter she claimed she had always wanted, Zufa blithely abandoned Ticia to be raised by other Sorceresses on Rossak, while she devoted all her attentions to Norma’s work. And then Zufa had been killed, along with Aurelius.
Ticia matured on Rossak, exhibiting all the mental powers her mother had prayed for, but she lived in a vacuum eventually filled by resentment. Decades later, she had taken her place as Supreme Sorceress, just like Zufa Cenva, but Ticia was even sterner and more stonily dedicated than her mother. Engrossed in her theories and calculations, not to mention VenKee business, Norma had rarely taken the time to see her half sister; neither of them would ever consider the other a “friend,” even in the broadest sense of the word.
Ticia caught sight of Norma, hesitated for an instant before beginning her speech, then boomed out in a voice that seem to carry thunder in every breath. The audience shuddered with the power of the delivery.
“We Sorceresses gave our lives for years, destroying cymeks whenever they preyed upon humanity. I watched many of my Sisters perish, unleashing their minds to take down cymeks— including Titans— along with them. I held myself ready to do the same. I would have been next… if another enemy had come. But now, for decades, the cymek threat has waned.”
Brevin O’Kukovich applauded. “The Sorceresses of Rossak have performed a great service to humanity.”
Ticia gave him a withering look for interrupting her. “So have many others, sir. Now, in the face of this sweeping epidemic, I point out that we Sorceresses have another area of expertise. Because of our harsh world and our precise records of breeding over many ge
nerations, we understand bloodlines, the most important raw material of the human race. If this Omnius Scourge grows worse, we could lose prime branches of our species— not just the sheer casualties, but paths to our future.
“Now, as whole families, whole cities, are devastated on world after world, we cannot react too soon or too vigorously. Our race is in extreme peril. Even as we struggle to find a cure for this foul biological weapon, we must also take drastic action to preserve the best DNA before it it lost forever— protect and store key markers of some of the strongest lines, or the disease may erase them entirely. We must establish a program to protect the genetic information of all people, on all planets.” She lifted her chin. “We Sorceresses have the capacity to manage such a program.”
Norma looked at her towering half sister, wondering what Ticia had to gain from this proposal. Though the Supreme Sorceress was not a particularly compassionate person, like Zufa she was fiercely dedicated to the Jihad.
Ticia raked her pale, electric gaze around the chamber, pointedly ignoring Norma. “I propose that we go to places where the plague has not yet struck and rescue healthy candidates. We can keep a database of blood samples, save family attributes if we cannot save the families themselves. Later, when we’ve defeated this epidemic, we can use this vast genetic library to restore our populations.”
The Grand Patriarch didn’t seem to understand entirely. “But even if the Scourge kills half… there will still be plenty of survivors. Is an operation of this magnitude truly necessary?”
After taking a long, slow breath, Ticia said, “But will it be the right half that survives? We have to plan for the worst, Grand Patriarch. We must do this before time runs out— like ancient Noah, but on a far vaster scale. We need to maintain samples of the strongest characteristics from each planet, and we have to do it before the Scourge spreads farther. We will need all the DNA we can save in order to guarantee sufficient diversity for the strength of our race.”
“Why not just cure the damned disease?” one distraught representative called. “It’s appearing everywhere!”
“And what about the already-infected planets? We should send rescue efforts there, too. Those people need it the most!”
The Grand Patriarch called for order. “We are already mounting massive volunteer relief efforts to aid overwhelmed medical personnel on afflicted planets. Perhaps the Sorceresses can take samples there, as well.”
Ticia looked at the man as if he was a complete fool. “It is already too late. Some portion of their populations will survive, but the pool is tainted. We should focus our efforts where they can do the greatest amount of good. Nothing can be accomplished on worlds where the epidemic has already manifested.”
“Very well, very well,” the Interim Viceroy said, pointedly noting the clock. “I see no reason why the Sorceresses cannot join this effort to the missions we already have going to League Worlds. You will find enough volunteers among the women of Rossak to do this?”
“More than enough.”
“Excellent. Now, I see the next item on the agenda may be a bit more hopeful. Supreme Commander Vorian Atreides? And… and someone named Norma Cenva?” Clearly, O’Kukovich didn’t know who Norma was, but his memory had never been terribly reliable. “You have more details about the use of melange against the Scourge?”
Vor led Norma to the speaking area, and Ticia seemed flustered at being upstaged. Though the report had been delivered weeks earlier, Vor quickly summarized his trip to Parmentier and what his granddaughter Raquella had discovered. “According to reports flooding in from other infected worlds, the conclusion is consistent. On every planet there are inexplicable pockets of immunity— with a common denominator. Those who consume the spice melange have a greater resistance, if not immunity. Spice. An expensive, recreational drug. And a powerful weapon against the Scourge!”
Vor stepped aside to give Norma the podium. She did not hesitate. “Therefore we need a great deal of melange, and we need to distribute it as swiftly as possible. For that, I offer the services of VenKee Enterprises.”
“This is just a ploy to increase demand for the spice— to increase your profits!” called one surly man from the fourth tier.
“It’s true that VenKee is the main supplier of melange throughout the League, and that we also control space-folding ships that can deliver spice swiftly enough to make a difference on the afflicted worlds.” With a flash of frustration, Norma thought that if the unreasonably frightened and overzealous people in the League hadn’t forced her to remove her computer-augmented navigation systems, the safety record of the superfast ships might be dramatically increased. Perhaps, somehow, she could slip some of the navigation devices secretly back into the vessels….
In a firm voice, she continued. “I have already issued instructions to increase VenKee’s spice production on Arrakis as much as possible. In the name of my beloved husband, the patriot Aurelius Venport, VenKee will donate melange to plague-stricken worlds as a humanitarian gesture.” Arumble of surprise went through the audience. She turned her gaze toward the faceless man who had shouted his accusation. “I presume that addresses any complaints that we are profiting from this tragedy?”
With his clear business sense, Adrien would probably oppose her decision, arguing that VenKee had already sacrificed enough. But Norma was not interested in profits right now. This was the right course of action.
The representatives cheered, but Ticia Cenva, seated now in the front row, did not join them. She leaned over to speak to the Grand Patriarch, looking conspiratorial. The chubby man’s eyes lit up at whatever she had to say, and he nodded more vigorously. Xander Boro-Ginjo rose to his feet, calling for order.
“We appreciate VenKee’s offer, but such a gesture is not nearly enough in these dire circumstances. Even with superhuman efforts, one company alone cannot produce enough spice to mitigate this crisis, if indeed melange provides protection against the Omnius Scourge. Somehow, we must increase the harvest of melange by several orders of magnitude.”
He cleared his throat, a sly grin spreading across his plump face. “Therefore, for the good of humanity and the survival of our species, I hereby annex Arrakis into the League of Nobles and open it to anyone who is willing to help scrape spice from the sands. Now is not the time to be conservative and cautious with this resource. The human race needs every gram of melange.”
Norma noticed that Ticia looked pleased with the turn of events, as if she had scored some sort of victory. Given the urgency, Norma could not fault what the Grand Patriarch had done, but she hoped he hadn’t dealt a death blow to VenKee Enterprises.
Little did the inhabitants of the remote planet of Arrakis suspect what was about to happen to them.
Some say that Harkonnen blood running through my veins disgraces me, but I do not accept the lies I have heard, the attempts to besmirch the role of my grandfather. To me the actions of Xavier Harkonnen speak of honor rather than cowardice.
— ABULURD HARKONNEN,
letter to Supreme Commander Vorian Atreides
The Omnius Scourge spread from one League World to another faster than quarantines could be imposed or evacuations could get under way.
Pursuant to Ticia Cenva’s genetic-preservation concept, the Army of the Jihad dispatched survey and rescue ships to as many unaffected worlds as possible. Sorceress volunteers gathered representative breeding samples from the populations, so that at least the bloodlines could be saved. To some it seemed a defeatist tactic, a frightening concession to the absolute worst-case scenario in which the epidemic spread everywhere.
Though he was only a young cuarto, Abulurd Butler led one of these missions, accompanied by the unyielding Supreme Sorceress herself. His rank was too low for him to expect any sort of command, but Abulurd found himself in nominal charge of a small, fast expedition to Ix, like so many other urgently dispatched groups of jihadi ships dealing with thousands of details in this crisis.
Some in the League might have assumed
from his family name that Abulurd had been born to a distinguished military career, but Primero Quentin Butler gave minimal support to his youngest son’s aspirations. Abulurd assumed Supreme Commander Atreides must have had a hand in his assignment— supposedly a safe one. Vorian had a habit of nudging him forward whenever he saw an opportunity. Abulurd, though, would have preferred to help the already afflicted victims, to bring medical aid, volunteers, supplies of melange.
His stripped-down javelin was sent to Ix to present quarantine instructions, begin preparations for survival, and preserve key bloodlines from the hardy survivors of generations of machine domination. Almost seventy years ago, their planet had been freed from Synchronized control. Ticia seemed particularly interested, since the genetic stock of the native Ixians had not yet been heavily assimilated into the general League population.
Unfortunately, by the time Abulurd’s ship arrived, the first symptoms of the epidemic had already surfaced— irrational paranoia and mob behavior, weight loss, skin lesions and discolorations. It was not clear whether plague canisters had exploded in the skies, or if infected merchants or refugees from other hot spots had brought the Scourge to Ix. Whole villages had been knocked to their knees; other settlements were just on the verge of being infected.
On the javelin’s bridge, Abulurd groaned. “We have just one ship! How are we ever going to rescue all those people?”
The Supreme Sorceress scowled, reassessing her priorities. “Ix is only one planet, with a population much larger than we could ever preserve. Do not even try. We should just leave. I can accomplish nothing, if their populace is already tainted.”
Abulurd, though, wanted to offer the League’s assistance. “Leave? We have spent weeks in transit just getting here.”
“There is no point, Cuarto Butler.”
He seemed very young and inexperienced next to the intimidating woman, but he thought of what Vor would have done. “Fortunately, Madam Sorceress, I am in command here. Yours is not the only objective of this mission.” Maybe he did not view the overall racial picture as the Sorceress did, but in a time of such human disaster he felt that compassion was more important than ever. Aperson’s life he could understand; a gene pool was far less tangible. “I see no reason not to offer whatever assistance we can. Why not set down at one of the outlying towns, a place that hasn’t yet shown any sign of plague? We can distribute all of our supplies of melange to help those we can’t take with us. Surely, you can salvage something.”
Dune: The Battle of Corrin Page 15