Dune 6 - Chapterhouse Dune

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Chapterhouse:

Dune

Frank Herbert

April 1985



Those who would repeat the past must control the teaching of

history.

-Bene Gesserit Coda

When the ghola-baby was delivered from the first Bene

Gesserit axlotl tank, Mother Superior Darwi Odrade

ordered a quiet celebration in her private dining room atop

Central. It was barely dawn, and the two other members

of her Council -- Tamalane and Bellonda -- showed

impatience at the summons, even though Odrade had

ordered breakfast served by her personal chef.

"It isn't every woman who can preside at the birth of her

own father," Odrade quipped when the others complained

they had too many demands on their time to permit of

"time-wasting nonsense."

Only aged Tamalane showed sly amusement.

Bellonda held her over-fleshed features expressionless,

often her equivalent of a scowl.

Was it possible, Odrade wondered, that Bell had not

exorcised resentment of the relative opulence in Mother

Superior's surroundings? Odrade's quarters were a distinct

mark of her position but the distinction represented her

duties more than any elevation over her Sisters. The small

dining room allowed her to consult aides during meals.

Bellonda glanced this way and that, obviously impatient to

be gone. Much effort had been expended without success

in attempts to break through Bellonda's coldly remote

shell.

"It felt very odd to hold that baby in my arms and think:

This is my father," Odrade said.

"I heard you the first time!" Bellonda spoke from the

belly, almost a baritone rumbling as though each word

caused her vague indigestion.

She understood Odrade's wry jest, though. The old Bashar

Miles Teg had, indeed, been the Mother Superior's father.

And Odrade herself had collected cells (as fingernail

scrapings) to grow this new ghola, part of a long-time

"possibility plan" should they ever succeed in duplicating

Tleilaxu tanks. But Bellonda would be drummed out of the

Bene Gesserit rather than go along with Odrade's comment

on the Sisterhood's vital equipment.

"I find this frivolous at such a time," Bellonda said. "Those

madwomen hunting us to exterminate us and you want a

celebration!"

Odrade held herself to a mild tone with some effort. "If

the Honored Matres find us before we are ready perhaps it

will be because we failed to keep up our morale."

Bellonda's silent stare directly into Odrade's eyes carried

frustrating accusation: Those terrible women already have

exterminated sixteen of our planets!

Odrade knew it was wrong to think of those planets as

Bene Gesserit possessions. The loosely organized

confederation of planetary governments assembled after

the Famine Times and the Scattering depended heavily on

the Sisterhood for vital services and reliable

communications, but old factions persisted -- CHOAM,

Spacing Guild, Tleilaxu, remnant pockets of the Divided

God's priesthood, even Fish Speaker auxiliaries and

schismatic assemblages. The Divided God had bequeathed

humankind a divided Empire -- all of whose factions were

suddenly moot because of rampaging Honored Matre

assaults from the Scattering. The Bene Gesserit -- holding

to most of their old forms -- were the natural prime target

for attack.

Bellonda's thoughts never strayed far from this Honored

Matre threat. It was a weakness Odrade recognized.

Sometimes, Odrade hesitated on the point of replacing

Bellonda, but even in the Bene Gesserit there were

factions these days and no one could deny that Bell was a

supreme organizer. Archives had never been more

efficient than under her guidance.

As she frequently did, Bellonda without even speaking the

words managed to focus Mother Superior's attention on

the hunters who stalked them with savage persistence. It

spoiled the mood of quiet success Odrade had hoped to

achieve this morning.

She forced herself to think of the new ghola. Teg! If his

original memories could be restored, the Sisterhood once

more would have the finest Bashar ever to serve them. A

Mentat Bashar! A military genius whose prowess already

was the stuff of myths in the Old Empire.

But would even Teg be of use against these women

returned from the Scattering?

By whatever gods may be, the Honored Matres must not

find us! Not yet!

Teg represented too many disturbing unknowns and

possibilities. Mystery surrounded the period before his

death in the destruction of Dune. He did something on

Gammu to ignite the unbridled fury of the Honored Matres.

His suicidal stand on Dune should not have been enough to

bring this berserk response. There were rumors, bits and

pieces from his days on Gammu before the Dune disaster.

He could move too fast for the human eye to see! Had he

done that? Another outcropping of wild abilities in Atreides

genes? Mutation? Or just more of the Teg myth? The

Sisterhood had to learn as soon as possible.

An acolyte brought in three breakfasts and the sisters ate

quickly, as though this interruption must be put behind

them without delay because time wasted was dangerous.

Even after the others had gone, Odrade was left with the

aftershock of Bellonda's unspoken fears.

And my fears.

She arose and went to the wide window that looked across

lower rooftops to part of the ring of orchards and pastures

around Central. Late spring and already fruit beginning to

form out there. Rebirth. A new Teg was born today! No

feeling of elation accompanied the thought. Usually she

found the view restorative but not this morning.

What are my real strengths? What are my facts?

The resources at a Mother Superior's command were

formidable: profound loyalty in those who served her, a

military arm under a Teg-trained Bashar (far away now

with a large portion of their troops guarding the school

planet, Lampadas), artisans and technicians, spies and

agents throughout the Old Empire, countless workers who

looked to the Sisterhood to protect them from Honored

Matres, and all the Reverend Mothers with Other Memories

reaching into the dawn of life.

Odrade knew without false pride that she represented the

peak of what was strongest in a Reverend Mother. If her

personal memories did not provide needed information,

she had others around her to fill the gaps. Machine-stored

data as well, although she admitted to a native distrust of

it.

Odrade found herself tempted to go digging in those other

lives she carried as secondary memory -- these

subterranean layers of awareness. Perhaps she could find

brilliant solutions to their predicament in experiences of

Others. Dangerous! You could lose yourself for hours,

fascinated by the multiplicity of human variations. Better

to leave Other Memories balanced in there, ready on

demand or intruding out of necessity. Consciousness, that

was the fulcrum and her grip on identity.

Duncan Idaho's odd Mentat metaphor helped.

Self-awareness: facing mirrors that pass through the

universe, gathering new images on the way -- endlessly

reflexive. The infinite seen as finite, the analogue of

consciousness carrying the sensed bits of infinity.

She had never heard words come closer to her wordless

awareness. "Specialized complexity," Idaho called it. "We

gather, assemble, and reflect our systems of order."

Indeed, it was the Bene Gesserit view that humans were

life designed by evolution to create order.

And how does that help us against these disorderly women

who hunt us? What branch of evolution are they? Is

evolution just another name for God?

Her Sisters would sneer at such "bootless speculation."

Still, there might be answers in Other Memory.

Ahhhh, how seductive!

How desperately she wanted to project her beleaguered

self into past identities and feel what it had been to live

then. The immediate peril of this enticement chilled her.

She felt Other Memory crowding the edges of awareness.

"It was like this!" "No! It was more like this!" How

greedy they were. You had to pick and choose, discreetly

animating the past. And was that not the purpose of

consciousness, the very essence of being alive?

Select from the past and match it against the present:

Learn consequences.

That was the Bene Gesserit view of history, ancient

Santayana's words resonating in their lives: "Those who

cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."

The buildings of Central itself, this most powerful of all

Bene Gesserit establishments, reflected that attitude

wherever Odrade turned. Usiform, that was the

commanding concept. Little about any Bene Gesserit

working center was allowed to become nonfunctional,

preserved out of nostalgia. The Sisterhood had no need

for archeologists. Reverend Mothers embodied history.

Slowly (much slower than usual) the view out her high

window produced its calming effect. What her eyes

reported, that was Bene Gesserit order.

But Honored Matres could end that order in the next

instant. The Sisterhood's situation was far worse than

what they had suffered under the Tyrant. Many of the

decisions she was forced to make now were odious. Her

workroom was less agreeable because of actions taken

here.

Write off our Bene Gesserit Keep on Palma?

That suggestion was in Bellonda's morning report waiting

on the worktable. Odrade fixed an affirmative notation to

it. "Yes."

Write it off because Honored Matre attack is imminent and

we cannot defend them or evacuate them.

Eleven hundred Reverend Mothers and the Fates alone

knew how many acolytes, postulants, and others dead or

worse because of that one word. Not to mention all of the

"Ordinary lives" existing in the Bene Gesserit shadow.

The strain of such decisions produced a new kind of

weariness in Odrade. Was it a weariness of the soul? Did

such a thing as a soul exist? She felt deep fatigue where

consciousness could not probe. Weary, weary, weary.

Even Bellonda showed the strain and Bell feasted on

violence. Tamalane alone appeared above it but that did

not fool Odrade. Tam had entered the age of superior

observation that lay ahead of all Sisters if they survived

into it. Nothing mattered then except observations and

judgments. Most of this was never uttered except in

fleeting expressions on wrinkled features. Tamalane spoke

few words these days, her comments so sparse as to be

almost ludicrous:

"Buy more no-ships."

"Brief Sheeana."

"Review Idaho records."

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摘要：

Chapterhouse:DuneFrankHerbertApril1985Thosewhowouldrepeatthepastmustcontroltheteachingofhistory.-BeneGesseritCodaWhentheghola-babywasdeliveredfromthefirstBeneGesseritaxlotltank,MotherSuperiorDarwiOdradeorderedaquietcelebrationinherprivatediningroomatopCentral.Itwasbarelydawn,andthetwoothermembersofh...

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