Always pay attention to what people do not say. What is not said, screams.
- THE BENE GESSERIT CODA
"Bellonda, we have a situation here." That was Ashala's subtle way of chastening the Mentat, her long face glimmering with the green and gray reflections from the 3d model of Gammu that stood at the center of the conference table. "Our first encounter with the Enemy with many faces is in days and yet there isn't a formalized plan to approve."
The magistra equitum Ashala, who wore with pride a title and post that Murbella had created on the verge of losing control of the Bene Gesserit traditionalists, and which earned her countless nicknames like dark knight, stood across the Mentat in the large Council room full of appointed Reverend Mothers and Honored Matres alike. Thankfully the round shape of the table and the giant planet projection in its middle prevented Ashala's oppressive presence to tower with a Reverend Mother Superior quality onto the others. There she stood, her impressive height reduced to that of a mere mortal against the swelling shape of the 3d mode.
On the other side Bellonda stood to attention, her body weight swelling in the stress of managing the currents within the Sisterhood Council, with Murbella in absentia.
"Reverend Mother Superior Murbella kept those plans under wraps," Bellonda replied, her face colored by the green and gray reflections of the 3d model, "Surely they were not ready or made to be dissected by this Council," she sneered. Why hadn't Miles been allowed to join? "Call in the Bashar, he may be privy to the plan."
"We will consult the Bashar on matters of security only," Ashala reprimanded her, not bothering hiding her not-so-subtle opinion of a male's true place in the Sisterhood's status pyramid. "Our enemy proposes to meet atop the city of Barony. What is our response?"
Angelika watched the exchange with curiosity while shrouded in the invisibility of the traditional black aba she had chosen to go after Ashala's own looks. Sister... Matre... Mother... with her foreign eyes she appraised the dynamics of the room looking for an entry point. As Matre turned Reverend Mother, turned Council member, she knew to be the odd new thing nobody would completely trust, let alone the old simulacra of the Sisterhood.
"No. A carefully arranged meeting in the central room of an Ixian ship will provide better guarantees. There is precedent," continued Bellonda.
"What force should we assemble? Can't be an army nor can we arrive there without support vessels."
Those are the wrong questions, Angelika realized. What Ixian ship? Inspected how? What surveillance and security devices would they risk bringing aboard? What heartbeat would they broadcast to their support force to reassure them of the envoy's safety? What is our offer? What do we expect to learn? What do our analysts theorize of this enemy? Her gaze crossed briefly Bellonda's and her thoughts were confirmed. And why isn't Miles Teg here, he who has done this a thousand times over? Then it dawned on her.
"We? Do you expect to be the ambassador, Ashala?" The planet silently rotated on its axis, showing the shape of battered continents on its sunlit side.
"Murbella won't recover in time," snapped back the Magistra. Not Reverend Mother Superior, Angelika noticed. Rumors said she tried to seduce that unhinged baliset player to show superiority. Good thing the man had laughed at her!
Matters flowed from topic to topic, until Angelika unleashed her conundrum. Why were so few Matres going through the ordeal? Technical challenges. Unpreparedness. Too many students for each teacher. The pupils are not ready. Ashala was the unapologetic voice of the Sisters who artificially slowed down the new Sisters' rise through the ranks.
Speak, Sister of the Latter Day. Your reticence makes my plans simpler. She read it in the other Matres-turned-Mothers - now a minority as Ashala had bought some to make room in the Council to her traditionalists - and found comfort that the uninitiated Matres were still 20 to 1 to the withering old Sisters.
"I want your trainers to be more effective, Angelika," was Ashala's reprise, "you speak of our Tutors but your trainers have not made much progress teaching us your faster-than-the-eye speed. You are holding back!"
"Your Sisters do not have the nerve build to achieve our reflexes..."
"Our synaptic bypasses are sufficiently developed, Sister!"
Challenge or acquiesce? The Angelika of before-the-trance would have killed the Magistra on sight. How she had changed, how her past lives - wild lives of the Scattering the Bene Gesserit had no idea she carried - had vanquished her arrogance, leaving intact her ambition. Let Ashala shame you in Council. "Then you will surely figure it out, Sister," she smiled.
"I have asked Telera here to help you figure it out for us," commanded the Magistra.
The more the Matres hate you, the better. The Black Swans grow. Master Zoel is restless.
In a surprise move Bellonda stood up from her seat. The spectacle of Sisters jockeying for power was not worth her time. And we have not tracked down Murbella's assailants! For what she knew, the perpetrators of Murbella's assassination attempt could be sitting in this Council room. "The Bene Gesserit cannot be taught to perform at the same level as the Matres, and that's a Mentat projection," she blurted out while making for the door.
"You are not dismissed, Bellonda!" said Ashala, almost on the verge of breaking etiquette with Voice. Out of character, Bellonda stopped and turned to Other Memory to select a fairly apt but appropriately obscure curse, and opened her mouth. Nothing had the chance to come out as the ground started to shake. The walls trembled. A deep pulsating sound inundated their senses, silencing them all. The window monitors which projected the landscape outside while guaranteeing the privacy and safety of a real wall, showed the black body of a small ship whose engines at full blast landed it slowly over the flattened orchard trees that had been Odrade's own.
"A security breach!" spoke Angelika but her soprano voice was lost in the confusion. Bellonda sealed the doors while opening a passage that led them underground to a panic room, where they remained for a long ten thousand breaths, waiting around a single light and a communicator. Where was Teg? Where was Master Zoel?
A message finally arrived through the terminal Bellonda was interrogating. "There was an unauthorized ship landing. The crew is being apprehended."
"How could they make it through to our surface? Summon Miles Teg!" roared Ashala's voice.
"But he is onsite."
"What is he doing?"
"Meeting them, if I am any Mentat" replied Bellonda.
"Meeting? We should interrogate and torture..." began Ashala.
"Don't you see?" whispered Bellonda in a way that made everybody in the room lean forward to listen, even the Magistra. "Whoever dropped a ship past our planetary defenses in plain daylight just slipped under our door a hell of a business card."