bh.houseatreides-第82章
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D'murr would say。
〃When can we talk again？〃 C'tair asked。 The apparatus felt dangerously warm； ready to break down。 He would have to shut it off soon。 D'murr groaned with distant pain； but gave no definite response。
Still； even knowing his brother's disfort； he had a human need to say goodbye； even if D'murr no longer did。 〃Farewell； for now； then。 I miss you。〃 As he spoke the long…overdue words； he sensed an easing of his own pain odd； in a way； since he could no longer be sure his brother understood him as he once had。
Feeling guilty； C'tair broke the connection。 Then he sat in silence； overwhelmed by conflicting emotions： joy at having spoken to his twin again； but sadness at D'murr's ambivalent reactions。 How much had his brother changed？
D'murr should have cared about the death of their mother and the tragic events that had befallen Ix。 A Guild Navigator's position affected all mankind。 Shouldn't a Navigator be more caring； more protective of humanity？
But instead the young man seemed to have severed all ties； burned all bridges。 Was D'murr reflecting Guild philosophy； or had he bee so consumed with himself and his new abilities that he'd turned into an egomaniac？ Was it necessary for him to behave that way？ Had D'murr severed all contact with his humanity？ No way to tell yet。
C'tair felt as if he had lost his brother all over again。
He removed the bioneutrino machine contacts that had temporarily expanded his mental powers； amplifying his thoughts and thus enabling him to municate with distant Junction。 Suddenly dizzy； he returned to his shielded bolt…hole and lay down on the narrow cot。 Eyes closed； he envisioned the universe behind his lids； wondering what it must be like for his twin。 His mind hummed with a strange residue of the contact； a backwash of mental expansion。
D'murr had sounded as if he were speaking underwater； through filters of prehension。 Now； underlying meanings occurred to C'tair subtleties and refinements。 Throughout the evening in the isolation of his hidden room； thoughts percolated through his mind； overwhelming him like a demonic possession。 The contact had sparked something unexpected in his own brain； an amazing reaction。
For days he did not leave the enclosure； consumed with his enhanced memories； using the prototype apparatus to focus his thoughts to an obsessive clarity。 Hour after hour； the replayed conversation became clearer to him； words and double meanings blossoming like flower petals。。。as if he traversed his own kind of foldspace of mind and memory。 Nuances of D'murr's dialogue became increasingly apparent； meanings C'tair hadn't noticed at first。 This gave him only an inkling of what his brother had bee。
He found it exciting。 And terrifying。
Finally； ing back to awareness an unknown number of days later； he noticed that food and beverage packages lay scattered around him。 The room stank。 He looked in a mirror； shocked to see that he had grown a scratchy dark brown beard。 His eyes were bloodshot； his hair wild。 C'tair barely recognized himself。
If Kailea Vernius were to set eyes on him now； she would draw back in horror or disdain and send him to work in the dimmest lower levels with the suboids。 Somehow； though； after the tragedy of Ix； the rape of his beautiful underground city； his boyish crush on the Earl's daughter seemed irrelevant。 Of all the sacrifices C'tair had made； that was among the smallest。
And he was sure there would be harder ones to e。
Before cleaning himself or the hiding place； though； he began preparations for the next call to his brother。
Perceptions rule the universe。
…Bene Gesserit Saying
A robo…controlled shuttle left its orbiting Heighliner in the Laoujin system and streaked toward the surface of Wallach IX； transmitting appropriate security codes to bypass the Sisterhood's primary defenses。 The Bene Gesserit homeworld was just another stop on its long circuitous route wandering among the stars in the Imperium。
Her thick hair beginning to turn gray； her body starting to hint at its age； Gaius Helen Mohiam thought it would be good to be home after many months of other duties； each separate assignment a thread in the vast Bene Gesserit tapestry。 No Sister understood the entire pattern； the entire weaving of events and people； but Mohiam did her part。
With her advancing pregnancy； the Sisterhood had called her home； to remain at the Mother School until such time as Mohiam delivered the much…anticipated daughter。 Only Kwisatz Mother Anirul prehended her true value to the breeding program； how everything hinged on the child she now carried。 Mohiam understood that this baby was important； but even the whispers of her Other Memory； which could always be called upon to offer a cacophony of advice； remained deliberately silent on the subject。
The Guild shuttle carried only her。 Working under the spectre of the Jihad； the Richesian manufacturers of the robo…pilot had gone out of their way to make a clunky…looking； rivet…covered device that most vehemently neither emulated the human mind nor looked the least bit human。。。or even sophisticated； for that matter。
The robo…pilot transported passengers and materials from a big ship to the surface of a planet； and back again in a well…rehearsed chain of events。 Its functions included barely enough programming flexibility to deal with air…traffic patterns or adverse weather conditions。 The robo…pilot took its shuttle in a routine sequence： from Heighliner to planet； from planet to Heighliner。。。
At a window seat in the shuttle； Mohiam reflected on the delicious revenge she had exacted on the Baron。 It had been months already； and no doubt he still suspected nothing； but a Bene Gesserit could wait a long time for the appropriate payment。 Over the years； as his precious body weakened and bloated from the disease； an utterly defeated Vladimir Harkonnen might even contemplate suicide。
Mohiam's vengeful action might have been impulsive； but it was fitting and appropriate after what the Baron had done。 Mother Superior Harishka would not have allowed House Harkonnen to go unpunished； and Mohiam thought her spontaneous idea had been cruelly apt。 It would save the Sisterhood time and trouble。
As the ship descended into the cloud layer； Mohiam hoped this new child would be perfect； because the Baron would no longer be of any use to them。 But if not； the Sisterhood always had other options and other plans。 They had many different breeding schemes。
Mohiam was of a type considered optimal for a certain mysterious genetic program。 She knew the names of some； but not all； of the other candidates； and knew as well that the Sisterhood didn't want simultaneous pregnancies in the program； fearing this might muddle the mating index。 Mohiam did wonder； though； why she had been selected again； after the first failure。 Her superiors hadn't explained it to her； and she knew better than to ask。 And again； the Voices in Other Memory kept their counsel to themselves。
Do the details matter？ she wondered。 I carry the requested daughter in my womb。 A successful birth would elevate Mohiam's stature； might even result in her eventual election as Mother Superior by the proctors； when she got much older。。。depending on how important this daughter really was。
She sensed the girl would be very important。
Aboard the robo…piloted shuttle； she felt a sudden change of motion。 Looking out the narrow window； she saw the horizon of Wallach IX lurch as the craft flipped over and plunged down； out of control。 The safety field around her seat glimmered an unfamiliar； disconcerting yellow。 Machine sounds； which had been limited to a smooth whir； now screamed through the cabin； hurting her ears。
Lights blinked wildly on the control module ahead of her。 The robo's movements were jerky and uncertain。 She had been trained to handle crises； and her mind worked rapidly。 Mohiam knew about occasional malfunctions on these shuttles statistically unlikely exacerbated by the lack of pilots with the ability to think and react。 When a problem did occur and Mohiam felt herself in the midst of one now the potential for disaster was high。
The shuttle plummeted； lurching and bucking。 Clothlike scraps of cl
