Summary: When Duncan agreed to be part of Sheeana's crew on the no-ship fleeing Chapterhouse, he knew their incoming struggles would be a challenge. Finding himself on the no-ship more by accident than design, Scytale has little choice but to partake, even though the only thing he cares about is resurrecting the civilization of the obliterated Bene Tleilax. A goal that might become easier to reach once he would succeed in his attempts to awaken the deeply set conditioning located in the mind of the Duncan Idaho ghola. [Duncan IdahoxScytale]
Those in My Way
Resurrection
The oldest memories tended to arrive in the most unexpected moments. Scytale glanced at his reflection in horror, unable to recognise the face looking back at him from the window. He froze, locking stares with his other self. It took him another second to remember that he no longer was a Face Dancer, that he hadn't been one since millennia, until the terror chilling his deepest core left.
Slowly he walked closer to the window, ignoring the vast emptiness of space it displayed, focusing on his pale reflection instead. Now the realization had reached him it all looked familiar again. The carefully crafted form of a Tleilaxu Master that was all there was to see, nothing more, nothing less. His small stature, the silver blond hair, the dark eyes building a contrast to his grey skin, a picture painted in monochrome.
He had spent only his first lifetime as a Face Dancer but he still hadn't gotten used to how small his present state was in comparison. Even though the blank form of a Face Dancer wasn't especially tall, compared to it the form of a Tleilaxu Master was tiny. It was funny, no matter how many times he got brought back into this world as this improved version of self, some part of him just kept clinging to the memories and experiences of his Face Dancer form. Even though that had been his most unsuccessful incarnation that had failed so many millennia ago.
His eyes lost focus, getting distracted by the pale light of distant and unknown stars. He couldn't help but wonder if on one of those star systems one planet had succeeded in being a refuge to one of his fellow Tleilaxu Masters. Maybe some had managed to escape harm together with their Face Dancer servants. Or maybe some Face Dancers had succeeded going into hiding on their own. Actually, the chances for this might even be higher. Unlike his Tleilaxu Master companions who were easily recognisable as a target, a Face Dancer on an undercover mission would have the chance to hide and escape. Someone just must have succeeded in escaping destruction, right?
Feeling a wave of nausea, Scytale's vision lost its focus, fixating itself at a place far beyond the stars, a place located somewhere beyond this universe. There just was never enough space. No matter how far you went, there were dangers hiding, revealing themselves in the forms of the bloodthirsty whores who had destroyed every last place that had been known to him as home. The danger were revealing themselves in the shape of deceitful Tleilaxu descendants from the scattering, diseased and impure lowlife that had proven it could not be trusted. They could not be trusted. And the filth from the scattering wasn't the only problem. Even if he were to find fellow Bene Tleilax, Masters or Face Dancers who had managed to escape total obliteration, how could he know if it would be safe to trust them? Who were to say what kind of impurities and rot might have set into any former companion in the years since they would have gotten forced into refuge? He felt his nausea increase, the awareness weighing heavy on him that he was in no place to find proper cleansing himself. He was cut off from so much more than only from his people.
His eyes focused on his reflection again, on a spot just above his eyes. The thought came to him to change his face slightly, to enhance certain features on it for only a degree while downplaying others. It had been his favourite kind of practice while being a Face Dancer; it had sharpened the awareness for his basic facial structure while giving him the chance to practice the finer nuances of his Prana Bindu technique. But of course now the idea was mere nonsense. Being a Tleilaxu Master he no longer had the structures in the anatomy of his face that would allow him to do this kind of changes in the first place. The fact he still could remember the Prana Bindu moves he had needed to alter his facial features changed nothing of that fact.
Feeling irritated he combed his fingers through his hair, putting back a strand of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. Getting lost in the memories of his Face Dancer incarnation like this, it was laughable. He had been given the chance to return as a Tleilaxu Master, had made sure to use this privilege to make up for his previous failures and to prove he wasn't taking this opportunity for granted. And he hadn't given up now either; even if there were no lost companions to find, he still had his nullontropy capsule with him and he would find a chance to use it, he would!
"What's here to woolgather? Seeing anything else than unknown space?"
The voice had been enough to let Scytale know who had been speaking to him. He didn't turn around, instead meeting Idaho's eyes in the mirroring of the window. "Not as of yet but you never know what kind of opportunity chance will bring to you."
Idaho chuckled, coming to a halt right next to Scytale, glaring down at him. "You're one to grasp for opportunity, aren't you?" He had made no effort to hide the sneer that had crept into his voice.
No, Scytale wasn't but in what amount the opportunity he had in mind would affect the ghola he had every intention of hiding. Instead he made a point to smile at Idaho, doing so in a way Scytale knew would hide his sharp fangs out of sight: "Is that a flaw though?"
"I'm merely pointing out observations."
"While simultaneously showing your judgement."
"That's your interpretation."
"Interpretation he says." Scytale turned his head, looking at a cluster of distant stars. "I was just looking for similarities."
"Similarities?"
"That cluster of stars over there. It reminded me a bit of a constellation you could see from Tleilax's main planet."
Next to him he could sense Idaho tensing up.
"It was called the Ascending Bird constellation. There was a song telling about the legend attached to it. How did it go again?
'fear not the twilight of dusk,
my beloved...
clarifying shadows
give a chance
to see the hidden dark'..."
He stopped his faint singing, humming the melody of the song instead.
Next to him the ghola remained frozen in place, his fingers gripping at the hem of his sleeve.
Scytale continued humming the melody he knew was ingrained deeply in the mind of the ghola, the key to activate deeply set conditioning.
"Ascending Bird song! What a stupidity. You're full of nonsense, Master Tleilax!"
Scytale stopped his humming. Of course, activating the conditioning of the ghola was a complex process that needed time and patience. "Well, it's just an old folksong I suddenly remembered."
The ghola huffed. "There's time to write folksongs on Tleilax next to all the atrocities your kind loves to commit?" The disdain from before had crept into his voice again.
Scytale shrugged his shoulders. "Occasionally." Not that there was a home left where one could write folksongs or an audience left that would have appreciated hearing them.
"Nonsense." Idaho turned around, not gracing Scytale with another glance. "I still don't get why you're allowed to roam free on the ship together with everyone else. It's despicable." With this he rushed off without giving Scytale a chance to answer. Not that these kind of povindah insults were worth getting answered to begin with.
Silently Scytale looked after Idaho, looked after him even when he already was out of sight. Yes, the activating of the most ingrained conditioning would need some time. But Scytale had practice in being patient.
Duncan looked at the control panels, looking at the Ixian control panels without seeing them. Damned Tleilax! Singing a song about love, as if the little monster was capable of experiencing such depth. He clearly wasn't, the ways the Tleilaxu approached their goals of satisfying their curiosity was proof enough how shallow their emotions had to be.
His fingernail traced the edge of a metal elation framing a green button. Pushing it would have no effect right now, it was part of the control section that was only in use when the akasha levers were pulled. The melody of that stupidly sentimental song still bounced around in his mind, getting only clearer the more he tried to forget.
a chance to see the hidden dark...
a chance to see the hidden dark...
Even in in their folk songs these little monsters couldn't help but be creepy.
Fear not the twilight,
my beloved...
my beloved...
The face of Murbella appeared before his inner eye, frail and sweet. The memory of her was refusing to meet his gaze, her clear green eyes set firmly in the distance.
Not bothering to stop his repetitive movements he continued tracing the framing of the button. He still loved Murbella so very much, a sensation that went beyond the mere awareness of feeling affection for her, a sensation that had etched itself firmly into his deepest core, drenching awareness and instinct. But love didn't change that the spice trance she had experienced had set a change in motion that couldn't be stopped. Some changes didn't affect the core of being even if they went deep and were irreversible. They would still offer ground to walk on a path that had become altered but had room enough for two.
The spice trance was no such change. He did not doubt that the feelings Murbella held for him were still sincere and deep, never had doubted them, never had doubted her. But he also knew that committing oneself to the Sisterhood left no room for compromise and hesitation. Having become a Reverend Mother Superior, Murbella would always choose the Sisterhood first, would make it her utmost priority, would do it before even having become aware of it. That did not mean that her love for Duncan would waver but it would mean that the Sisterhood would always come first.
Duncan was so tired of never getting considered a priority, of always being excepted to understand and accept he would come second. Of being excepted to serve and follow, be it for the Atreides, for the Sisterhood or for whoever it was who for now had ordered the resurrection of his flesh. He stopped the nervous movement of his hand, finally becoming bothered by the monotone nature of it. Yes, he was becoming tired of it all. He had never put it into words this clearly, but the undercurrent of the feeling had been there, had been festering in a desolate corner of his mind since a while. He was still staring at the control panel, quietly sitting in front of it. He didn't feel like Murbella deserved to suffer that it was this moment in time where he had reached the amount of what he was willing to endure but that didn't change that he was not able to just go and stop his mental exhaustion. Angrily he shook his head. He was a Mentat and philosopher, trained in the Zensunni way to think and reason. He wasn't supposed to succumb to psychic exhaustion. He was supposed to be strong.
There were a lot of things he wasn't supposed to do, and thinking about what they were, he was getting tired of that too. He saw a movement in the corner of his vision and before he had a chance to turn his head, he was already hearing Sheeana's voice: "What's the air filtering in need of improving?"
He gestured at the screen showing the measured data. "Nothing. As you can see everything is fine."
"So? That's good then."
"Yes." Duncan took a deep breathe, looking her into the eyes. "I just wanted to check if it shows the same data as the one on the main bridge. Having localized control stations makes sense but we must be sure they're all properly synchronized."
She nodded in agreement, her gaze never leaving his face. There was a look of unhidden concern in her eyes. Duncan couldn't say if she made a point of showing it or if she didn't care hiding her emotions when talking to him. Usually he could say which of the two it was. But not today. That bothered him. "We're making good progress in setting up the maintenance groups. Soon they'll be ready to go", she said.
"Good."
"There's been a lot of good input from the Rabbi and his people as well."
"I'm glad to hear."
Sheeana was still studying his face with that oddly cautious look. As if she had something to say but was thinking better of it. And he still couldn't tell if she let him see this by accident or design.
Refusing to think any more of this Duncan decided to change the subject. "You'll never guess who I saw woolgathering at the window front."
"Who?"
"The little Tleilaxu monster. He tried giving off the impression of feeling melancholic."
"Duncan..." The concern that had held Sheeana's face in its grasp had settled into her voice. The sentiment was so raw and sudden, it strengthened his impression that she didn't care for holding up a screen of control today.
"I stand by what I said the other day. I don't see any reason to let that little monster roam the ship freely. He's a danger to us all."
"He isn't 'roaming it freely' any more than the rest. The bridge, the control zones, the medical facilities and the maintenance zones are constantly staffed either way, naturally. The comeyes are still running too. He hasn't a better chance to act than any other potential bad fate actor."
"He was confined to the three rooms of his on Chapterhouse and that's where he should stay now too."
"He was confined because the Sisterhood had their reasons to keep him captive. We're not on Chapterhouse anymore."
"That's... Sheeana, he's a Tleilaxu. You know no one in their sane mind can trust them!", Duncan hissed, finding himself unable to keep the irritation out of his voice.
Sheeana shook her head, taking a deep breath. "Duncan. He hasn't done anything."
"For now. I say let's make sure it stays that way."
Sheeana drew her hand over her brow and only now did he notice how tired she looked. "Duncan. This ship... when we left, we knew the risk, the challenge. Didn't we?"
"We also knew the chance it offered and the necessity. That's why we did it", he said, still feeling irritated but now making an effort to let his voice sound calmer. They had been over this a thousand times, why was Sheeana repeating mere basics?
Sheeana nodded, looking at him. "We did and that's why we have a crew to begin with. Because we found likeminded people who are sharing our idea, or at least, the biggest part of it", she said, her hand gesturing at the broad space around them. "But not everyone joined this ship with the exact same reasons. Our motives still differ in places. And that's only for the people joining willingly. The Rabbi and his Jews became passengers not having planned to join us, for the mere fact of being in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Or in the right place at the right time."
Hearing his objection Sheeana smiled, the expression taking away the hardest edge of her deeply set tiredness. "Yes depending on how you look at it." She nodded and when she continued talking her voice sounded thoughtful. "The way I see it, these differences are a chance too and not a weakness. By being aware that we have different needs and ideas on board, we can avoid becoming complacent by thinking the mere fact someone is aboard means they share our motivations." Her expression went serious. "We can't let Scytale be locked up. Reprimanding someone as a preventive action, without them having done anything wrong, this would set a dangerous precedence. We can't afford to start this journey with a discrepancy of this kind."
"Maybe", Duncan sighed, reluctantly agreeing. He knew Sheeana argument made sense. But still... "He's still a Tleilaxu though."
"The last of his kind."
"As far as we know. For now." The little monster was already looking for ways to reanimate people of his own kind and those repulsive Face Dancer servants of his. He had made that much clear when still being on Chapterhouse and there was no way to believe he had changed plans. They had went over this argument already too!
Sensing his reluctance Sheeana quickly continued: "Just like the rest of us he has to depend on this ship. He can't afford to go for drastic measures."
Duncan didn't know how to respond. It sounded all reasonable but at the same time he knew that desperate people were never too far away from drastic measures. He didn't know why he didn't speak this objection out loud. Maybe because despite of everything Sheeana would be well aware of that too. So he stayed silent, instead listening to what Sheeana had to say about the progress with planning life on the ship, now that they knew for real the passengers who accompanied them on their plan.
During all of this the melody of Scytale's stupid folk song never left his mind. The tune wandered through his mind, etching itself firmly into its corners. That little monster had looked so sad while looking out into space, the expression in his dark grey eyes forlorn and lost. Repulsion twitched through Duncan's mind, doing its best to drag his earlier outrage back into focus. That little monster only possessed the most shallow emotions, clearly unable to feel anything deeply unless it affected himself. It was the only possible explanation.
Paradigm
Scytale couldn't say if it was a tendency to be found in general amongst those expanding their existence through the means of returning as a ghola, but in one way or another, all of his fellow Masheikhs of the council had been collectors. You'd found the more typical kind like Plasto, who had harboured an affinity for stones. Had it been minerals, quartz or sediment stone, Plasto had wanted a piece of them all. He'd put the rarest or most beautiful exemplars on display in his home, stones from foreign planets, able to explain their journey of origin by heart. Yes, stones had been Plasto's thing. Mirlat had held an affinity for horses and had held some obsolete breed that no longer got used in agriculture but only were bred for their beauty and historical significance. Ryfu had held a fascination with groundcars and never had made a secret that he had several expensive models because he loved the feeling of traveling in them. They had been the traditional kind of collectors. Then there had been others on the council who went the way of least effort and were obsessed with searching out pleasures for the flesh. Once you'd got serious walking down that peculiar path you'd seem to get stuck in a one way street, finding little motivation to change course. It was a path that had never looked appealing to Scytale.
The one thing Scytale cared to collect were skills. It would have been a waste not to. The way the memories from different ghola lifetimes seamlessly connected with each other made it easy to recall things you had previously learned. Once the trigger to remember your old lives had been activated all of those abilities were yours again. Take space travel for example. Being part of the Masheikh council meant you had to travel a lot. The ships ordered from Ix fulfilled this task but at the same time, it felt odd to solely rely on the steersmen to get this task done. No, it obviously made sense to learn how to pilot such a ship on your own. More, understanding how an entire ship functioned could only prove to be useful too.
Because if the machinery in question didn't do what it was supposed to, you could just go and fix it yourself instead of having to rely on someone else to do it for you. Scytale leaned over the control panel, trying to concentrate. "Do you have to hover this close by?"
Behind him he could feel Idaho tense up, making a point to stay exactly where he was. "I just want to make sure you're not messing anything up."
"I'm trying to unlock these containers. Which is pretty much the opposite of 'messing anything up' ".
A shadow came looming over the both of them, not tall enough to reach Idaho but still carrying a presence that demanded attention. "It is narrow in here. Let's give him some space", Teg said, the calm authority in his speech at odds with his youthful voice. His ghola form was still just that of a child but observing his demeanour made it clear the memory to his previous life had already been activated.
Giving him a thankful nod, Scytale continued to figure out the way that locked the weapons in the armoury out of reach. He tried not to glance any more at Teg. The ghola filled him with a special kind of unease. His mere existence was proof the witches of the sisterhood had successfully managed to operate Axolotl tanks and had found successful ways to produce their own gholas. All belonging to the witches. Despite the nature of his creation, this Teg ghola was no creature of the Tleilaxu, no potential ally but another severe threat. And that was not the only reason this ghola bothered him. What had the witches been thinking to awaken his memories at such an early stage? Getting the awareness flooded with the memories of previous lifetimes shouldn't be done before the subject had aged to a certain maturity. Otherwise the chances of causing damage to the mind was just too high. Reaching old memory meant that the personality of an individual could return, sure, but to ensure this process went well there needed be enough ground to plant the seed in, so to speak. The memoryless years before the awakening weren't just lost years, they ended up as experiences that added into the total of all the memories and influences on the ghola psyche. The callousness to ignore such simple basics!
He would have explained this to the witches as well, would have been glad to make this information a bargaining chip if they had cared to consult him about the matter. But of course they had deemed themselves to stand above such advice. They probably had consulted the records of the Idaho gholas they had ordered, concluding the experiences with these subjects would give them insight on the matter enough. The potential of how many of their own gholas would continue to get ruined like this? A cold shiver crawled done his spine. Back on Chapterhouse Odrade had confirmed they were in the process of growing him as well. How would this Scytale ghola get treated by them? Would he be exposed to an awakening this flawed as well? And what about the whores from the scattering who had arrived on Chapterhouse? Would they make him another target of their raging hatred for everything connected with the Bene Tleilax? Either way, this ghola would grow up as a child lost amongst strangers, lacking all connections to his people or the culture of his home.
Home. What was home when all the Tleilaxu planets had been obliterated? There wasn't even a single pocket of survivors left. The rotten betrayers from the scattering obviously didn't count. His face started feeling hot and the air he breathed refused to reach the depth of his lungs, staying on the shallow surface. Yes, if there was one big regret Scytale had then that he had left behind this ghola of himself amongst the witches.
"How's it going?" That had been Idaho, stepping closer and peering on the control panel even before giving Scytale a chance to answer.
"I'm through another seal. But the armoury has a tight security. Getting it opened will still need some time."
"We're aware. It's great you know what to do with those here though. It's saving us a lot of time", Teg added, sounding non-confrontational.
"Well. I know Ixian ships up to their details. I've maintained them before." Let them ponder this. Let them know that for this destinationless journey of theirs it would be to their benefit to have Scytale around. Let them know he was useful to them in more way than one.
Teg continued: "Knowing our stock of weapons is one of the bigger issues right know. There are sealed places in the medical units as well. We should have a look at them soon too."
Duncan folded his arms in front of his chest, trying to curb his impatience but not succeeding. Their control over the ship was enough to guarantee its basic function but it was also true they needed access to the places that were still sealed off. He looked at Teg who betrayed no such hurry. Not for the first time Duncan was hit by the dissonance of witnessing this youthful body display the secure manner of the seasoned Bashar. There was no change to the demeanour he had shown when still in his original body. The memory hit Duncan with a hollow feeling of loss. He still remembered the trust and reliance he had built up to the old man, to the original Teg, before awakening to the memory of his many lives.
And now Teg was destined to follow a similar path, acquiring ghola life after ghola life, a stack of memories connecting and becoming a whole. Oddly the knowledge of this shared similarity let a feeling of distance arise instead one of connection. The fact they had been born millennia apart was the smallest difference dividing them. If it only had been this, it could have been overcome. But the purpose of Teg's ghola awakening seemed so different. Brought back by a relative, his own daughter. Even though the both of them hadn't grown up a family, even though Odrade had held the Sisterhood's best interest in mind when reviving their Bashar... It changed nothing of the affection she obviously had held for him. Her motivation had been more than just assuring this version would have a successful outcome.
Version. Versions of gholas were now created on Chapterhouse too. But that's were their greatest divide lay. He looked from Teg to Scytale who was still busy opening the armoury's seals. Teg might have been a fellow ghola but he had been raised on Chapterhouse his entire life. The gholas of Duncan who had been ordered by the Sisterhood, they had arrived on their Keep on Gammu young, sure. But every single version of his, no matter if it had been ordered by them or the Tyrant, had spent their first years on Tleilax. A rush of revulsion rushed through his guts, more an instinct than an actual sensation. He didn't feel like thinking anymore. Trying to ignore his unrest he started to talk for the main reason of distracting himself: "Scytale? So, did every Master on Tleilax get taught how to do mechanics of an Ixian ship then?"
The little monster stopped what he was doing, slowly turning around. His dark eyes gleamed with an annoyance the rest of his body almost succeeded to hide. "If they had the wish to learn it."
Duncan paused. "So, no then."
"I didn't say that."
"You might as well."
"Why did you ask anyway? Eager to replace me?"
Before Duncan could answer, Teg had already chipped in: "Everyone knows you'd have to be mad to replace a skilled mechanic."
"Never said anything else", Duncan agreed, beginning to feel irritated himself how every conversation he held with Scytale seemed to end in an argument. "I was just curious about that mysterious Tleilaxu – Ix connection no one knows anything of substance about. So, I was curious if the likes of you got shipped in classes to Ix to learn about their no-ships." Yes, Duncan was curious. But not necessarily about that. He needed more data though.
The comment seemed to have amused Scytale. An absentminded smile appeared on his face, letting his sharp canines stand out. "No, but now that you mention it, I should have insisted everyone should have gone on this kind of Bildungsreise. I heard these sort of educational journeys build up the moral."
Teg picked up the sentiment, mirroring the smile. "Don't these always end up with someone smuggling in alcohol into the dormitories and midnight celebrations until the first hours of the morning?" The sentiment sounded double absurd stated by his childlike voice.
"I'm afraid so. I would have hired you as their chaperone then, young man."
"Why does this sound like a threat?", Teg asked.
"You tell me; I fear the answer for this lies deep within you. The Tleilaxu are known to pay good money, consider the offer."
"I consider considering."
"I will mark that as a victory."
Duncan felt his irritation leave, almost despite himself. Nothing about this situation was especially funny except... except that this entire situation was so deeply absurd that he couldn't fight the grin spreading across his face. Not even a week ago they all had been on Chapterhouse, him and Scytale essentially prisoners. The no-ship they now commanded through this unknown universe still had been deeply sunk into the soil of the earth, succumbing to its own weight. And now they were discussing the quickest method of gaining access to the ships armoury. He placed his hand over his brow, shaking his head, no longer bothering to hide his features. For once he didn't mind what conclusions Scytale might have drawn from observing him. For better or worse the passengers of this ship were in all of this together.
