Author's Notes: Lots of the characters' backstories for this fic were inspired by what's there to find in The Dune Encyclopedia (1984).
Ignite
Scytale unpacked the box, happy to find another amount of nano robots. Those were useful when working with the microscopes. "More nano robots. Next to the scalpels and gauze."
"Jotted down", Idaho huffed, ridulian crystal paper ready in his hand. There was a sour expression on his face he didn't care to hide.
"You know, I can handle this alone. It's just sighting boxes."
"It's no worry. I volunteered."
He had. Which was interesting, despite the obvious reluctance he displayed. Idaho had been in a sour mood at the armoury and since then the repulsion he displayed towards him had only grown. Scytale decided to find out more: "If you're worried I'm going to mess with the medical equipment when on my own, send me a doctor or a nurse. They'd notice if I did anything questionable."
Hearing his worry addressed this directly Idaho froze, giving Scytale a calculating look. "Now that you mention it, they should handle this to begin with. You shouldn't even be let near the medical facilities, unless as a patient."
Was that a veiled threat? If so, it was interesting to see how the ghola let his guard down so quickly, over such frivolity. Scytale made sure to sound hurt: "I'm trying to be helpful, you know?" He held up the box of nano robots he was holding in his hands. "Even if they're medically trained, I'm not so sure they'd know what to do with this highly specified equipment. These here are special orders Ix used to make for Tleilax. Very exclusive. I'm not naive enough to assume they never delivered them to outsiders. I'm just saying the chance of you people ever having encountered these is low."
Idaho straightened his back. "Either way, I'm not letting you alone in here."
"I appreciate the help."
To this, Idaho only huffed.
So the lack of control over his emotions was still there. It wasn't without a risk, but it needed testing how deep this atypical irritation went. "Or are you searching for an excuse to put your abilities as a swordsman to use on me, is it that?", Scytale asked, holding his hands in clear sight, holding the box in both of them.
The expression on Idaho's face hardened. It made him look the experienced swordmaster he was, erasing the last lingering lines of youth his body held. It accentuated how misleading the shell of a ghola could be, how its freshness hid the centuries or even millennia the mind occupying it could hold. It was an awareness that had occurred regularly when interacting with the council the Tleilaxu Masters had formed but one he had encountered only rarely since having been abandoned by his home.
Idaho was still looking at him, the gaze of a hunter not yet having decided if his prey was worth the hassle or not. "No, but you give me ideas", he said, looking at the box full of scalpels.
Scytale made a point to hold his hands in place, right were Idaho could see them. His grip tightened on the box but Scytale didn't notice, gaze fixed on the ghola. "Aren't the odds a bit out of balance? You are trained in the ways of the sword. I'm a mere servant of my people, looking to restore my home."
Idaho narrowed his eyes, gaze all set on Scytale. "That might be true for your Tleilaxu Master form. But your Face Dancer form was a trained assassin."
Scytale needed a moment to process the words he had just heard. Their meaning gripped his core, a leaden feeling spreading through his chest.
"Don't think you can fool me. I remember the ways Face Dancers used to operate very well."
Scytale regained control over his muscles, finally able to find an answer. "Today's Face Dancers are still trained as assassins."
A mean and satisfied smile appeared on the ghola's face, destroying the last illusion of temporary youth. "What's the reason you got regenerated a Master, actually?"
"The way the Bene Tleilax organize themselves is no business of an outsider." The statement sounded defensive and weakened his stand, Scytale realized as much. At the same time he hadn't been able to stay silent. Not when a dirty powindah acted this dismissive. Powindah, no not even quite that! That ghola was a product of Tleilax, was a Tleilaxu himself, regardless of the origins of his base material! This kind of behaviour was unsightly for a servant!
A cold light gleamed up behind the ghola's eyes, erasing all indication where pupil began and iris started, making them appear like black and empty voids. "I see now. You are their cautious tale, is it that? 'Make sure not to fail the way Scytale did, letting our conspiracy to control the Kwisatz Haderach shatter to the ground'."
Enough! The way this ghoal acted was unsightly, despite everything, he was still a servant of Tleilax! The face of Waff showed up in front of Scytale's inner eye, memory of his voice so clear it was almost audible. "You're too serious, Scytale. I understand you want to avoid repeating former mistakes but give the Bene Tleilax some credit. We too evolved in the millennia since Muad'dib appeared, since the Prophet ruled, since the scattering. Though it's reassuring to see you learned from your prime's shortcomings." His fellow council members never had made a secret that they thought Scytale was being too serious, too cautious. But Waff had been the only one who pointed this out in front of everyone, for the entire council to hear. Scytale hold on tighter to the box. With him standing still in place, his hands clearly visible, the ghola had no excuse to attack.
The ghola continued: "That's why they keep you around, as a living warning."
"They reanimated me as a sign of respect. I'm the only Face Dancer who ever got made Master for the sake of getting added to the Council. You're making it too easy if you equate the inability to reach a goal with failure."
The ghola slightly leaned closer, looking down. He really was tall. Not quite as tall as some of the proctors on chapterhouse had been, but really tall. "You still think of yourself as a Face Dancer then?"
It needed the last bit of Scytale's self-control to keep his voice even. "My prime was a Face Dancer. Acknowledging this is just a simple fact."
"So, we're doing facts today. I'm sure you are aware then that most journeys that can be made from either direction. That you were made Face Dancer becoming Tleilaxu Master is a threat in itself. You are a cautious tale brought to life, always present, never leaving, and a constant reminder. 'Serve the council well, or you'll might become known as the Master who got downgraded into a Face Dancer'. It's the real threat your existence holds."
Scytale knew that. Was that Mentat trained ghola honestly so dense as to think Scytale didn't know that? But then... but then of course the ghola would know that Scytale knew. So, speaking the unspeakable out loud, it had been done to upset him, it had been meant to be hurtful. Frustration solidified in Scytale's stomach, a feeling as if his innards were being ripped apart. Indignity after indignity. If circumstances would have been different, he would have easily been able to put the ghola, this instrument of Tleilaxu technology, into its proper place. But given his situation, he had little choice but to stay patient and endure until he saw a solid chance of getting control back. He made sure to hold the ghola's gaze. "I'm happy to see the Mentat training the Tleilaxu gave you was not a waste."
Idaho's eyes widened in surprise. Only shortly so but it had been there, clearly.
"What was your little lecture supposed to achieve? Provoking me into action so you would have an excuse to use those scalpels on me?"
"Is that how you would have done it as a Face Dancer assassin?"
"You expect me to answer that?"
"It's not like I expect you to tell the truth to begin with."
"I think I have my answer." All of what Idaho had said, Scytale already knew. It wasn't news, it wasn't the big revelation. Lingering on the matter was just as pointless as denying it. "You know, the medical group is waiting for us to let them know what this storage room holds. Can we go on or are there any of your observations left you're in need of sharing?"
A frown appeared on Idaho's face. "Someone has to observe you doing this after all." He looked at the crystal paper. "I last noted five boxes of scalpels."
Right, so they could continue the task they had come here for. Perfect. Great. Scytale continued unpacking the box, refusing to acknowledge how much the remarks of the ghola had managed to shake him. He already knew all of that, he just didn't like to hear it getting thrown in his face that was all.
For a while they continued unpacking the storage room. It was Idaho starting to distract from the matter at hand once again: "One thing I still don't get. If you know how your fellow Masters saw you, why the effort to restore them?"
Scytale looked up, not feeling surprised Idaho kept prodding but still displeased with the matter of the question: "Tleilax is still my home."
"It was your home. It got destroyed."
"And that's exactly why I need to restore it."
"Do you think being held up as a cautious tale will stop once you've done that? Do you think your fellow Masters will be this grateful?"
"No." Was Idaho really taking him for being this simple and shallow?
"Why do it then?"
"It's still my home! I know you still talk about your sister who got slain by the Harkonnen. It's what all of your versions soon start mentioning after awakening their old awareness. I've seen records. This motivation is your home. Is it so hard to understand I miss my people too?"
"Don't bring my sister into this." There had no longer been malice in Idaho's voice. He only sounded tired.
"I'm not doing that, you are. That's my point. Everyone has their home. Is it so hard to respect my motivation?"
"Yes! It is!", Idaho growled, lowering the crystal paper he had held in front of him to the side. "The sister I miss, she was that, family. You only ever talk about your people, your fellow Masters and Face Dancer servants. All the effort for that?"
Scytale hesitated. He had made a habit out of looking for flaws, cataloguing and collecting them, even before his captivity on Chapterhouse. It was a habit acquired in his wish to use his reconstructions to learn new skills, and one that had become a habit that had helped him to stay focused in the desperation that had started to pile up while in captivity. That's why once he had been given the chance to interact with the ghola, he had been able to collect his flaws too, combining them with the knowledge he had about the Duncan Idaho ghola project run by the Tleilaxu. An Idaho tended to hold onto grudges but on the other hand lacked any sadistically motivated energy. An Idaho didn't gloat. One quick to anger while at the same time being overly cautious whenever handed over a thing of positivity. You'd find responses fuelled by straightforward emotion which led to him letting go of his anger quickly too though. Taking these points into consideration, Scytale decided that his best response right now would be one devoid of any lies and misleading. Honesty had the potential to be disarming, even though Scytale didn't really feel comfortable revealing what he had to say.
"I talk about them because until recently they had been alive. And they have the chance to become alive again. It's unfair that you're blaming me for avoiding to mention those long dead", Scytale said, surprised at the unhidden melancholy in his voice.
Idaho's expression stayed sceptical but the harsh veil that laid over his eyes slightly lessened. "Now come, I may know nothing about the details that make an Axolotl tank run, but I've spend enough time on Tleilax to know the criteria for the life growing in them." He pointed an accusing finger at Scytale. "You and your people construct and modify yourself as much as your odd Face Dancers. I know all of you get created and grow in the tanks too, not in the natural unit of father and mother. You even only call the people you harvest your cells meant for reproduction 'donors'."
"Having facts like this ready is all the Mentat way, isn't it? You still show though that you understand little of how Tleilaxu society worked."
"Because all of you were always so damn secretive about it. Fine, if I still lack understanding, explain it to me then."
Scytale found that he had to avert his eyes. Carefully he opened another box laying in front of him, slowly starting to unpack it. He didn't like the prospect of opening up about himself but revealing certain things had the potential to soften Idaho's view on him and also to help triggering the conditioned response.
"What you just said is only half right. Donor A' and 'donor B', that's how people offering their cells for the creation of a new Face Dancer get called, usually. Not always, but usually."
Duncan hesitated, clutching at the pen and paper in his hands. Hearing how the little Tleilaxu monster had started to talk about bonds and family as if he knew how it was like, it had send a gush of anger through Duncan's core, hot and clear. But now a sombre mood had gotten its hold over Scytale, sadness in his eyes apparent even though he clearly tried to hide it. The sight cleared away Duncan's anger. Which was annoying. Duncan didn't want to stop being angry, he wanted to meet the little monster with the distance and coldness he deserved. It was no good though. He directed his mind back into Mentat computation, holding up the word that had stood out in Scytale's statement. "They get called that 'usually'?"
Scytale grimaced. "Actually, they get called nothing anymore, because there is no one around to create new Face Dancers anymore."
He tried to distract from the point at hand then, from the point at hand he had started to go down himself. Duncan wouldn't let him: "It would have been like this for you too though. Your base being was a Face Dancer. Or did that get altered too, aside from giving you Tleilaxu Master markers, I mean?"
"Didn't get altered", Scytale said, resolutely shaking his head. His hand fished out another package out of the box, gently setting it on the table. Scytale's hands were small and delicate, having that otherworldly elfin appearance the rest of his body held. Hands that looked as if they could easily be crushed and broken if you took them into your own and meant to cause damage.
Scytale looked up at Duncan, holding his gaze. "But yes, 'usually', right? I was created as a Face Dancer, sure. But my donors, they eventually wanted to adopt me. It's true that it's less common now, but in older times a couple who wished to have a child sometimes choose that way. I had an adoptive father and an adoptive mother. I mean, properly, they took me in into their home. They gave me a name too. So, when you tell me I know nothing about how it is to have a family, I'm sorry, that's where you're in the wrong."
Duncan held Scytale's gaze, not knowing how to answer. His mind was still alert with Mentat computation and was collecting the data that had arisen in this statement, already highlighting what had stood out. But not everything you noticed you wanted to immediately point out "I had no idea", Duncan finally said. Pointing out the obvious felt best for now.
Shrugging his shoulder Scytale avoided his gaze, as if he hadn't been sure that had been a given. Maybe for him it had not been. The way the spy networks of the Houses scanned their enemies and friends for every relevant crumb of information, these details might as well have been uncovered by... by Alia searching for information concerning the conspiracy against her brother. A memory arose in Duncan. Tleilaxu metal eyes recording a Face Dancer threatening to stab the new born children of the Young Master, the blade of a thrown knife piercing his eye before he got the chance to follow through with his threat. The Face Dancer had sunken dead to the floor the next instant, long black hair hiding what was left of his features, giving off the image of a broken doll that had been discarded. Only moments later the body had already started to disintegrate, the measure of the Bene Tleilax to ensure the dissection of a Face Dancer cadaver would not reveal any details of their specific anatomy.
Mentat computation flowing, Duncan found it impossible to stay silent: "Adoptive parents you said?"
"Yes."
"But if they were both the donors of your... for you to begin with, wouldn't the both of them not simply have been your parents?"
Hearing this Scytale froze. He shook his head, giving his attention to the package in front on him, refusing to meet Duncan's eyes. "That's not how things worked with Face Dancers." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, reminding Duncan of a tiny bird that had gotten startled. "Face Dancers can't have parents, obviously. Sometimes a couple wanted to adopt one, for various reasons, it happened. But Face Dancers don't have parents, that's not how this worked. They'd always remain servants after all."
"They don't have parents..."
"Back in the day, it wasn't that unusual a couple adopted a Face Dancer." Scytale looked up, a resolute light shining behind his eyes. "I don't know if you remember... You should remember, your prime got born around the same time mine did. So, if you'd recall, back in the day a Face Dancer wasn't quite the same as they are today. We used to perform... my troupe and I, we toured so many planets because people wanted to see us perform."
"Oh, I remember that. I also remember you and your friends got used as spies even back then."
Scytale smiled, the expression showing his pointed fangs. "I just wanted to point out that not all of my friends were the kind of assassin I was. People wanted to see us act and dance. Our standards were high and we were good." There had been pride in his voice and Duncan couldn't help but see it justified.
"Yes, I remember", Duncan admitted. Face Dancers today were another story, especially the dangerous new kind, but during the time the both of them had been born Face Dancers had been known for their quality of performing.
Hearing this the sharp gleam in Scytale's eyes softened. "I mean, that's how we started out, as performers. You'd know that of course. I'm not denying I was trained an assassin, because of course you're perfectly aware of that too." Absentmindedly he started scratching his chest. "My adoptive parents were proud of me. Everyone had high hopes in me succeeding."
The picture of a broken body lying on the floor appeared in Duncan's mind, the way his flesh was already starting to disintegrate. Before he could silence the thought he had already asked himself if Scytale succeeding with the plan of the conspiracy would have been for the best. Mentat computation lacked the data to say for sure, to estimate the enormous change this path would have meant. But most likely it would have meant there would have been no God Emperor Leto II holding the known universes in his grasp. Maybe even Alia would have been spared the fate of becoming Abomination. Would this other path have been for the better? It certainly would have meant never meeting Murbella. No Ixian no-ship, not being on this journey. Whatever the answer was, that was not the way the path had went. That's why the resurrected form of he himself was here, that's why the Face Dancer become Tleilaxu Master form of Scytale was standing next to him too. "But you didn't succeed", Duncan said, once again pointing out the obvious.
A sad smile showed up on Scytale's face. It erased the ever present caution in his eyes, and gave him an expression that almost let him appear human. "Well, I guess you'd had been there as a witness."
"I was indeed", Duncan admitted. After a moment of silence he added: "I know what happened afterwards to your body too." He didn't know why it had sounded like a confession.
"I guess you would. They made a point to make a spectacle out of discarding of the elements of the conspiracy. Or so I've been told." His eyes narrowed. "Is it really true that when you gave the Tleilaxu embassy the water back that got distilled out of my body, that it was held in a container that changed its colour?
Duncan straightened his back. "Yes. I mean, I've seen it, the water in the container kept changing its colour, yes."
Hearing this Scytale's face stayed oddly blank, betraying no emotion whatsoever. The computation in Duncan's mind pointed out that even though Scytale no longer had the ability of a Face Dancer, the knowledge of how to control mind and body for the sake of imitating someone else still had to be useful for him. In many ways the little Tleilaxu Master was not only an amalgamate but also a paradox. The silence around them started to feel heavy, Duncan couldn't stand it any longer: "Is it true the generations of Face Dancers that came after that swore their oath of loyalty on your water?"
A measuring expression set itself over Scytale's face. Staying silent for another moment, he finally answered: "Half true. They swore their loyalty on my Szian dagger, not on my remains, no. A piece of propaganda the Bene Tleilax spread. They saw the chance to make a martyr out of me and took it." Duncan's senses told him that this had been correct.
"Those rumours were false then."
"The thing with the water container is all made up. What was left of me got buried next to my adoptive mother, in the family grave. It was her last wish stated in her suicide note."
Not knowing what to say, Duncan only stared.
Scytale's face got guarded, his voice displaying a causality that obviously wasn't there: "Didn't that piece of rumour reach you then? When the conspiracy had failed, my adoptive father became a recluse, withdrawing from public. My adoptive mother couldn't handle the situation of it all and eventually took her own life." He lowered his gaze, holding the small white box in front of him but not opening it up. "Everyone put high hopes in me. I already did tell you."
Duncan nodded in acknowledgement, staying silent. Speaking the obvious out loud would do no good. There were things even a Tleilaxu couldn't be asked to simply brush off and forget.
Hunter – Killer
Scytale looked at the plate in front of him, unable to shake off a feeling of resignation. No matter what or where, the simple wish to just enjoy his food seemed to be destined to stay unfulfilled. Back on Chapterhouse the meals he had gotten had been eatable but never quite to his liking. In hindsight he had to ask himself if that had not been a coincidence but had kept happening by design, another element supposed to break chinks into his armour. An attempt to wear him down to come easier to the information he held. He wouldn't put it past the witches.
He took another bite of the roasted chicken in front of him. He could tell that it tasted delicious, just like the rest of his dinner. Yet everything he ate today tasted like ash. He could also easily tell that the reason for this had nothing to do with the food but was to find in his mind. The conversation he'd held with Idaho had soured his mood.
He hadn't been prepared for that. The matter laid millennia in the past, it shouldn't still affect him like this. And yet he couldn't deny it did. Speaking it out loud had given his old sorrows a new reality, robbing them of the distance he had managed to put between now and when they just had been silent memories in his mind. Sometimes it was better to not talk about some things. It only made matters worse. And the truth was, he had lived in silence for too long. For years the only person he had spoken with on the regular had been the witch and then every conversation had been a carefully constructed attempt to bargain. Speaking about personal matters, it had felt like too much had happened too soon. That he'd only had opened up in an attempt to activate the conditioning of the ghola did not change that.
Reluctantly he took another bite, even though he was lacking appetite. Yes, it would just have been like the witches to mess with his meals. Especially taking into consideration how they produced their food... Scytale shuddered. He still remembered the afternoon Odrade had taken him out in the orchard, the day he had witnessed the burial. If you could call throwing a body in the soil below some fruit trees a burial!
He still hadn't managed to process what he had witnessed. Discarding of the earthly shell of a person as if they just had been some kind of thing... it was so callous. The attempts of justification by the witch had made matters only worse. So, she claimed the body was given a chance to be useful by nourishing a plant. Why had a body to prove it could be useful? What about the bereft wanting to mourn their lost one? That aspect hadn't been addressed in her neat sounding lecture about adding to agriculture. Were the people wanting to remember and pay respect to a lost one really expected to do this in an orchard while trampling around in dirt? Confronted with these kind of arguments, the witch would probably have had more justifications ready.
Scytale grimaced, freezing into place. Damn that Idaho for making him remember. He still could remember how the family grave had looked like. This too had been destroyed when the whores from the scattering had obliterated his home. – At least I can love. Typicals about the witches say they cannot and the same might be true for the whores. – He shook his head, deciding he was tired of thinking about it all. If he wanted to succeed in restoring what lay hidden in his nullentropy capsule he needed to find a way to focus instead of getting distracted by emotion – He hated admitting it but it was one of the points the witches were not wrong about: Emotions of the extreme, be it hate or love, were not entirely rational and thus held a danger to mislead. What he had to concentrate on now was keeping a clear head while never losing sight of his goal.
Duncan sat still, unable to tear his gaze away from the screen, revelling in what the comeyes were showing him. He looked so sad. Scytale looked so sad and Duncan hadn't enough data for his Mentat awareness to say why that was. Loneliness maybe, but there were indications that it ran much deeper than that. Maybe if he watched some more of what the hidden comeye had to show he would get clues leading him to clarity.
After all it was simply the sensitive thing to do to check what that little monster was doing when being left on his own. Duncan still didn't agree with Scytale being allowed to move more freely on the ship, so ensuring the Tleilax wasn't up for some hidden destructive scheme was only the appropriate level of being cautious. They couldn't be sure he wasn't up to something bad. The circumstances were suspicious enough: Even with the amount of restrictions lifted Scytale tended to stay by himself, always eating alone, never joining the others. And when he got into conversation with someone else – usually when encountering someone on his lonely little walks or when asked to help with maintaining the ship – he still wore that calculating look in his eyes that made it difficult to estimate what he really thought. Duncan had seen these things through the comeyes too. And be it through a screen on face to face, it was so hard to tell what the little monster thought. No, it was only sensible to continue these kind of observations, just in case.
Absentmindedly Duncan leaned forward, towards the screen, fascinated by the unhidden sadness that had started to affect Scytale's entire body. He emptied his plate only slowly, a lost and forlorn shadow darkening his eyes. It was so different from how he held himself when out on the ship, when knowing he was being observed. Then he never allowed his posture to reveal any weakness, rigid stubbornness holding him upright. None of this was visibly right now. How slowly he was with eating today, as if doing so was demanding actual effort, Duncan thought, letting his gaze linger on Scytale's hand holding the fork. He really had such small hands, delicate hands that looked like they couldn't escape your grasp once you held them in yours. The grey of their skin made them seem so cold. Duncan couldn't help but wonder if holding them would have felt cold. He couldn't imagine this pale grey skin to feel warm, it looked alien and strange, like the mute glow of aluminium. Mentat awareness connected data, pointing to memory. From autopsy reports done on Tleilaxu cadavers he knew that pigments of metal was used to give their skin its grey appearance. The reason why this was being done remained a mystery though. To him it just appeared strange. What reason would someone have to artificially drench their skin into the colour of metal? The more he knew about that little monster the less he made sense. Mentat awareness pointed that out to be a contradiction, still, Duncan couldn't fight the impression, his emotion bringing in disturbances when a rational and collected approach would have been needed right now.
Still fascinated by how slow Scytale was in finishing his meal today, Duncan's gaze remained on the fork brought up to his mouth. Even his gums and tongue were influenced by that grey hue, turning them into a sickly shade of purple. Unlike the frozen looking skin this gave them a weirdly feverish impression. Duncan brushed the palm of his hand over his brow, not knowing why he suddenly felt hot himself. His attention got caught by white and sharp teeth gleaming up behind that small mouth, long and pointy fangs, an artificial atavism of the body that recalled predatory predecessors. Duncan asked himself why he didn't feel as repulsed as he should have.
He couldn't tear his eyes away from that strange little creature, feeling frozen in place in front of the screen. A thought that had slowly formed in a forlorn corner of Duncan's mind stumbled into its centre, making itself heard before it could be silenced. The Fish Speaker's Duncan would have found Scytale irresistible. The Fish Speaker's Duncan used to have a thing for delicate men with sad eyes, especially when they had been the kind of resolute bordering on stubborn. Yes, if he would have been here he would have been absolutely smitten.
Duncan paused, his initial surprise turning into a slow kind of shock. With the way his memories of his previous ghola incarnations connected to each other, he experienced his memory as one whole unit. It didn't feel broken or fragmented. Some parts of his experiences felt closer and more lively, some more distant, pointing out the stages in his lives that had been of more or less significance, told of joy or of sadness that forbid frequent revisiting. But it still was a connected whole, the sum of him evolving through added experience, of having to adapt to change. The memories of the lifetime of The Fish Speaker's Duncan fit into this pattern, were part of the whole. Yet Duncan couldn't help but put as much distance as possible between what he viewed as his normal self and the experiences and impressions The Fish Speaker's Duncan had made.
He refused to see a problem with this. He had gone through so many lifetimes, so many different demands and challenges. And in all of these he had learned and evolved, adding knowledge. Taking into account how many separate incarnations he had gone through, it was only to be expected that in some he had differed in some parts of his personality compared to the traits he tended to have in typical. So, one of his versions had been a bit peculiar when it had come to the question of who he had found attractive. It had been an odd episode and he didn't like to ponder about it but... but in total he hadn't enough data to tell why this particular change in him had occurred. Maybe it had been something done to him in the Axolotly tanks, a flaw by design to meet in some was the goal of his maker. It wouldn't have been the first time his ghola form had been altered to fulfil a need by the people ordering him. Or maybe it had just been a quirk of nature, a defect of the character that had accidentally happened due to unfortunate circumstances. This sometimes happened too. In one occasion, just having occurred lately when ordered by the Sisterhood, that version of Duncan had been near-sighted. An accident the Sisterhood hadn't wanted and the Tleilaxu have had no reason to insert. It had been one of those occasional variations that sometimes happened and had been easy enough to fix.
So, the variation in The Fish Speaker's Duncan had been then that he hadn't been interested in the company of women. Something Duncan still was embarrassed to think about, yes, but at the same time no sign of a deeper damage. Some people just seemed to be that way and though The Fish Speaker's Duncan would have preferred to not have been like that, at the end of the day it had been an aspect about himself he had not been able to change.
Duncan's face started feeling hot, worse than just a moment ago. He avoided thinking about The Fish Speaker's Duncan. Doing so came with a pile of unanswered questions he'd rather not confront.
Shaking his head he directed his gaze back at the screen, telling himself it was reasonable to collect more data. After all he still couldn't allow himself to trust that repulsively delicate Tleilax monster. For the time he had paused eating, staring into the distance with a blank look on his face. As if he was deeply lost in thought. Duncan didn't deny that Scytale was perfectly able to hold deep thoughts. That was one of the reasons he considered him to be so dangerous.
Yes, he was dangerous. That's why Duncan listened to his impulse once the little Tleilaxu had finished eating and stood up, looking like he was about to go for one of his evening strolls around the ship. It would be the perfect occasion to meet him, making it look like a coincidence. Activating the comeyes right outside his part of the ship Duncan followed Scytale's way, checking the direction in which he would go today.
In the end it turned out that checking the comeyes wouldn't have been necessary to find Scytale's way. Duncan just would have needed to follow his impulse. He found Scytale standing in front of the window front, looking out into unknown space, ignoring the ship around him. As if he'd rather be somewhere else. As if he didn't belong. No longer seeing him on the screen but in person made Duncan realize how small Scytale really was. Small. Not the way stocky and resolute Bijaz had been, no. Rather in the way a stoat was small compared to a ferret. Long limbed and slender, hiding an enduring determination.
Duncan hesitated, a strange tension overcoming his muscles. Up until now he had been sure of what to do and what to say next but out of a sudden his mind had gone blank, leaving him with a growing unease of having lost all direction.
Despite Duncan's inability to act Scytale had noticed him. He turned around, looking at him with a sceptical frown, every fibre of his body signalling distrust. He didn't utter a word, staying completely silent.
Paradoxically it was this hostile caution allowing Duncan to act again. Continuing his way he came to a halt right next to Scytale, greeting him with a nod. "Hey."
"Hey."
"What are you woolgathering about today?"
"Oh, you know. The usual."
"The usual." Duncan paused. "What is the usual? Looking if a constellation looks familiar after all?"
The cautious gleam behind Scytale's eyes slightly lessened. "You'll never know. I've travelled to a lot of places over the years. Sometimes you'll remember old things that will give you new clues."
"Clues of how to escape this ship?", Duncan asked. He hadn't mean the question to be an accusation. Actually, he hadn't really been asking in earnest.
Scytale must have picked up on the sentiment. "Constantly searching for them. Though, now we're finally away from Chapterhouse, I'm no longer in that much of a hurry", he said, a lopsided smile appearing on his face.
The sight expanded the dull void in Duncan's mind, letting his feeling grow he had forgotten something important. Trying to hide he was actually at loss for words he searched for an answer: "You even admit it then."
"We're an entire ship full of people trying to get away. It's not like I'm standing out." There was still this oddly carefree tone in his voice when he continued: "You're a Mentat, trained by the Tleilaxu. You will know all of this anyway, of course."
"Of course", Duncan echoed, the sentiment flooding into the corners of his being that still were in the grip of this awful emptiness. Despite everything, it was not like Scytale was in the wrong. His basic training as a Mentat and as a Zensunni philosopher Duncan had been given by the Tleilaxu. But that only had been the base. The experiences his many ghola lives had made when finally away from the planet had added to this, forming the knowledge and skills he was using today.
Duncan's gaze reached out of the window far into space, trying to find a place it could anchor itself on. Out there really was an unknown space in an unknown universe, threatening to crush him with its empty vastness of nothing. Feeling as if the floor he was standing on had become unstable Duncan had to avert his gaze. He slightly turned his head, attention caught by a movement in the corner of his vision. Standing next to him Scytale brushed his hand through his hair, an absentminded gesture. His straight hair was the silvery blond the majority of Tleilaxu Masters seemed to prefer. It was slightly tousled, resonating with the odd mood of disarray he had shown while eating. His hair looked so soft. If The Fish Speaker's Duncan had been here, he would have felt tempted to tousle it some more. Now that they stood next to each other, Duncan still pondered about their difference in height. Scytale really was tiny, barely coming up to Duncan's shoulders.
"Do you really think there's a possibility you ever visited this universe we're in right now? It's so forlorn", Duncan asked, no longer able to stand the silence.
Scytale shrugged his shoulders. "Can't say it for sure until you finally let me have a look at the control panels on the bridge. I really can't rule it out. We Tleilaxu used to travel to distant places."
"And of course you'd refuse to talk about what the purpose of these journeys were."
"Naturally."
Duncan withheld a sigh. He glanced out of the window, just to immediately avert his eyes again. "We haven't moved that fast. Out from here you can still see this replacement Rising Bird constellation of yours."
"Ascending Bird constellation."
"Whatever." Yes, whatever indeed. Duncan could still remember the melody of the song attached to it. It played itself over and over in his mind, a loop that grew louder and expanded until it had reached the most forlorn corner of his hollow self. Duncan could almost hear the complex melancholy of the tune, it sounded that clearly in his mind. He shook his head, continuing to speak: "The point I'm making is that you're not seeing much new compared to the last time you were here."
A dismissive sneer crept over Scytale's face, shortly, a reflex he hadn't been able to hide. "I'm well aware."
"Why are you here then?" Indeed, why? Was the little monster plotting something?
"I'm here because I'm here. This is a window. It's supposed to be looked through."
Feeling his frustration grow Duncan stayed persistent. "I just want to make sure you're not using your new freedom for something destructive. You go on walks around the ship every evening, alone. You never join us for meals either. Isolating yourself like this, it's odd."
Scytale's eyes widened in hurt anger, shortly, the second time he hadn't been able to stop himself from displaying intense emotion. "Did Sheeana send you to check on me?"
Well, she hadn't. But it would be useful to let the little monster know people other than Duncan felt suspicious of him. "She might have."
To this Scytale only huffed, folding his arms in front of his chest. He turned away from Duncan, staring into the vast nothing of space.
Duncan stayed silent. Let him stew in his own misery, maybe that would let him crack some more.
It was Scytale ending the heavy silence between them. "That constellation over there sort of looks like the Ascending Bird, but not really. There's nothing familiar out there, nothing. I hate it."
Duncan turned his head, surprised by the unhidden bitterness in Scytale's voice. Despite feeling like he should know better he couldn't help but voice agreement: "I don't really like it either."
"Right. And that's why I keep looking at it anyway: This scenery out there is our new reality. It's no use acting like you can run away from it."
Duncan grew tense, not knowing how to answer this kind of confession. Mentat computations told him it would be crucial to not interrupt Scytale now.
Glaring at Duncan Scytale continued: "It's the same when I'm going on my walks around the ship. It doesn't matter if I like this place or not. It's where I'm stuck for now so it only makes sense I'm getting familiar with it."
"You don't like the ship then."
"I didn't say that."
"But..."
"Oh, be silent! You wouldn't understand", Scytale snapped, giving Duncan an accusing stare.
"I think I really don't. I think you wanted to have more freedom."
"Of course I want my freedom back."
"We can't change for now that it is this ship we have to use as our new home. So, as you said, it doesn't change if we like it or not and..."
"As I said. There's no way you'd understand."
Apparently he didn't. Not knowing what to say Duncan gave Scytale a questioning glance.
"You always had this ship for yourself. All of it! The only things off-limit were the control areas and my three rooms."
That it was then, Scytale was pouting he had been given the smaller amount of space during their time on Chapterhouse? Duncan felt the confusion in him grow. His Mentat abilities had almost but not fully detected what the problem here was. He was still missing some crucial information, he could feel it: "I wasn't the one to decide any of that, do you know that?"
"Stop distracting. I was pointing out you have no way of understanding how I feel. I wasn't accusing you of being responsible for how things went down. I know you were not." It was one of the oddities of how Scytale's anger manifested in how he made a point to keep the root of it clear. Duncan's Mentat mode noted this down as a thing to remember. It was different from the kind of anger that lashed out and didn't care what it reached in its rage as long as it just managed to cause damage.
"If I'm too ignorant to see the issue, explain it to me then."
Scytale paused, a calculating cautiousness throwing a shadow over his eyes. "See this as me filling knowledge gaps in your Mentat education. Fine. For ten years I'm confined to only three rooms. And the only time I was allowed to leave and go outside there were guards around me. No matter where I went, I was never left alone. It's odd getting used again to how it is to move around freely, that's all."
"Odrade never left me out of the ship without proctors either."
"Yes. But at least you had the rest of the ship to yourself. And you weren't alone. You and Murbella had each other."
Duncan wasn't surprised that Scytale had mentioned Murbella. Given the context, it had been natural and plausible he had. Hearing her name spoken out loud had hurt anyway. "You were kept away from the rest of the ship, yes." Duncan shook his head, as if trying to ward off an incoming headache. He felt the emptiness from earlier expand through him, dull and heavy. It felt like a relief. "But being able to move freely now should be a good thing then, no?"
"Of course it's a good thing." Scytale sighed, looking reluctant to talk any further. "It's a relief no longer to be restricted like it used to be. Still. Being stuck in my rooms has become such a fixed part of life. It's hard to comprehend it's no longer like this, even though I know better", he said, looking up at Duncan with a questioning glance.
Duncan felt his earlier scepticism leave. Mentat computation hadn't brought up the explanation for what was wrong but not because Duncan had lacked the data. It had been hard to see because Scytale's sentiment echoed his own. It was weird moving freely without guards after years of confinement. Duncan felt reluctant to admit any of this though. "Sounds reasonable. That still doesn't explain why you never come out during mealtimes though."
Hearing this Scytale looked unfazed. "I don't like it when people look at me when I'm eating. That's all."
"What? Why?"
"I just don't like having to eat amongst strangers."
Amongst strangers then. Mentat computation filed that information away, deciding it might be useful for later use. Outside the window still stood the replacement constellation of the Ascending Bird. Duncan refused to look at it, feeling like he would feel dizzy again the moment he acknowledged the hollow emptiness of space around him. The melody of the Ascending Bird song still echoed through his head, making him forget about unacknowledged obsessions.
