Part 29 (1/2)
Paul knew exactly what he had created here. For so long, he had been forced by prescience to use violence as a tool in order to achieve what needed to be done. And violence was an effective and powerful tool. But now it seemed that the slippery instrument had turned, and the violence itself was using him him as its tool. A dark part of him wasn't sure if he would be able to control what he had unleashed. Or if he even wanted to. as its tool. A dark part of him wasn't sure if he would be able to control what he had unleashed. Or if he even wanted to.
True morality and honor can never be codified into law, at least not for every eventuality. A n.o.bleman must always be prepared to select the high road, thus avoiding the pitfalls of shadowy paths and spiritual dead ends.
-CROWN PRINCE RAPHAEL CORRINO
”They are reasonably good fighters,” Bashar Zum Garon admitted as he looked at the trained group of gholas that the Tleilaxu presented in an enclosed arena in Thalidei. ”No match for my Sardaukar or Muad'Dib's Fedaykin, but I do see considerable skills out there. Emperor Shaddam may find them acceptable for his secret army.”
”Ah, hm-m-m-m,” Count Fenring said, sitting next to Margot in the spectator seats of the combat area. ”That was a nice parry from the tall, bearded one.” They watched a hundred uniformed soldiers engage in practice matches with an array of simulated weapons that left marks on their opponents to show ”kills” and ”wounds.” They were using swords, stunners, knives, darts, and projectile simulators.
”And the man in red just made a decent thrust against his opponent, but they're half a step slow,” Lady Margot pointed out.
Dr. Ereboam nodded knowingly. ”When we have finished honing them, they will successfully compete against Sardaukar and Fedaykin, because they begin with the same raw material. Their minds remember nothing of their past lives, but their bodies remember their training. Our battlefield harvesters take cells from fallen warriors, even intact bodies if they are reparable. These gholas have the same muscle reflexes and superior potential as the most celebrated fighters. They are are the most celebrated fighters.” the most celebrated fighters.”
”Hmmm, I would submit that any soldier who does not survive survive a battle is not, ahh, by definition, the best fighter.” a battle is not, ahh, by definition, the best fighter.”
The albino researcher scowled. ”These are the best of the best, those who not only possessed superior skills, but who died bravely. These resurrected fighters can become a spectacular army for Emperor Shaddam - an army that Muad'Dib knows nothing about. They appear on no census rolls, their names no longer exist. Provided we can smuggle them to Salusa Secundus, they will seem to have appeared out of thin air.”
Garon nodded seriously. ”I will inform the Emperor of what you offer. As gholas, none of them fear death. Yes, they can be fierce, indeed.”
Though Fenring was loathe to partic.i.p.ate in any more of Shaddam's schemes that were bound to fail, he had to admit that this one showed a certain measure of promise. He feared, however, that the fallen Emperor would never truly understand how different and formidable a foe Muad'Dib was, with his fanatical armies that felt no sense of self-preservation.
Count Fenring and Lady Margot knew their own plans for Marie were much more likely to succeed than Shaddam's tiresome schemes to restore himself to power. Even at her young age, Marie had outwitted and outfought the deranged Thallo. The Tleilaxu were quite dismayed after the disaster, but Fenring did not need their flawed Kwisatz Haderach candidate for his own success.
Yes, the little girl's skills were developing nicely.
Fenring watched as a mock town appeared at the center of the enclosed arena; building facades emerged from places of concealment in the floor. The ghola soldiers divided into two squadrons designated by red or blue waist sashes, then faced off on the faux town streets and alleys, firing marker darts at one another. None of them spoke a word.
”My Marie could defeat the whole pack of them down there,” Count Fenring mused. ”You'll have to do better than that, Doctor.”
Ereboam let out a shrill, scoffing sound. ”Against so many trained opponents she would not stand a chance!”
”Oh, she would stand a chance all right,” Lady Margot agreed. ”But perhaps saying she could kill a hundred warrior gholas is a bit too boastful. I am confident she could eliminate a dozen of them, however.”
”Yes,” Fenring said, correcting himself. ”Make it fifteen.”
Bashar Garon seemed deeply disturbed by the suggestion. ”That little girl? Against hardened warriors? She can't be more than seven years old.”
”Ahh-hm-mm, she is six,” Fenring said. ”And her age is not the question here, only her skill level.” He lowered his voice, adding a dangerous undertone. ”Perhaps I should send her her to Shaddam's court. Our dear Emperor would find her far more difficult to kill than my dear cousin Dalak.” to Shaddam's court. Our dear Emperor would find her far more difficult to kill than my dear cousin Dalak.”
He had not loved Wensicia's husband, or even known him well, but the fool had indeed been a member of Fenring's family. When Garon reported the ”unfortunate incident” of Dalak's death - first telling Shaddam's lie, then admitting to the dishonorable truth - the Count had been extremely annoyed. He could not ignore the insult, even for the sake of his supposed childhood friend. For his own part, the Bashar remained offended by many of Shaddam's recent actions, and Dalak's murder was only one of them.
One more reason not to a.s.sist Shaddam, one more reason to despise the man's inept.i.tude. Fenring had half a mind to expand his plot and exterminate the Corrinos as well as Muad'Dib. Kill them to the last man, woman, and child. Burn their planets. Wipe them off the map of the universe.
Maybe later. With Marie on the throne, it would be done. Everything in its time. Everything in its time. Muad'Dib was the true enemy. Shaddam was just... irrelevant. Muad'Dib was the true enemy. Shaddam was just... irrelevant.
”Why don't we let the child demonstrate her abilities against Dr. Ereboam's ghola soldiers?” Fenring said, intentionally taunting the albino researcher. Right now, he needed an outlet for his rage. Marie waited nearby, alone in a game room. Since killing Thallo, she no longer had a playmate.
”Do you seriously wish to pit your girl against a dozen trained ghola soldiers?” Garon asked, in disbelief.
”Fifteen,” Fenring said. He knew that in private training sessions she had already proved herself more than capable of handling such a challenge. ”Mmm, yes, that should be fair enough.”
MARIE'S EYES FLASHED dangerously as she was led into a small indoor combat arena. She had been told it was time to play. Fenring felt a rush of adrenaline as he smiled at her, feeling complete confidence in the sweet little girl.
Lady Margot seemed just as eager. ”Now you shall see what a Bene Gesserit child can do when seasoned with my husband's advice, and a dash of Tleilaxu Twisting techniques. She has a far broader skill set than any previous a.s.sa.s.sin.”
Fifteen uniformed ghola fighters chosen by Ereboam had already been sent into the combat room and armed with real weapons, at the insistence of the Fenrings. The Count patted Marie on her blonde head and handed the girl a dagger. ”This is all you should need, hmmm?” He bent down to kiss her forehead.
”It's all I need.”
Margot kissed her daughter's cheek before sending her into the enclosed arena. The muscular, fully grown soldiers faced Marie, looking at the girl in uneasy confusion as the door sealed, leaving the observers outside.
”Now,” Margot said, using the implacable command of Voice, ”extinguish all the lights. She will fight in complete darkness.”
”Hmm-ah, yes,” Fenring agreed, his eyes sparkling. ”That should make it more of a challenge.”
THE COUNT COULD see that Bashar Garon was alarmed to hear a flurry of commotion on the combat floor - darts flying and weapons clas.h.i.+ng, cries of surprise and pain from the ghola fighters. Several screamed as they died. The darkness remained absolute.
He smiled to himself and gripped Lady Margot's hand on her lap. He felt her pulse quicken. ”Just a little controlled violence,” Fenring said to the Sardaukar commander, as if to ease Garon's concerns.
”But they are so many and she is so small,” the Bashar said.
Men continued to cry out, and then everything fell eerily silent. Thirty seconds later, the lights went back on.
On the floor, Marie stood looking up at the viewing area. Motionless bodies lay at her feet - the best fighters that the Tleilaxu had to offer. At some point she had discarded her dagger; the girl was speckled with blood on her hands, feet, and face. Count Fenring was still struck by how small and innocent she looked. He couldn't have been prouder. ”Amazing,” Garon said.
”A waste of our best gholas,” Dr. Ereboam added bitterly.
”Perhaps you need to start with better genetic material,” Lady Margot said with an edge of sarcasm.
Fenring watched the other Tleilaxu Masters conferring among themselves in their rude, secret tongue. He didn't care what they were saying. Their body language revealed enough.
Marie had functioned with deadly precision, synthesizing the wealth of teachings she had been given. With a thrill of fear, he wondered if the girl might be able to best even him. Fenring turned to his wife and saw that her eyes held a sheen of unshed tears. Joyful tears, he thought.
He said tersely, ”She is ready.”