Axolotl Tanks
It was an old tale already at the time, and I was but a child. A man leaves his woman and the sietch to go to the city. The man knows the desert and the Fremen ways, but has never been in a village, not to speak of Carthag, tentacular and crowded. Yet enter he must, for he and his wife are in great poverty and a merchant from the city promised him help in a time of need. "You have a debt of water to settle" he told the merchant. But the merchant responds: "I have nothing for a man of the desert but my water. But what good would that be, if you slayed me now? I offer you to practice a profession, learn it from my aides, so that you will earn three times what my water was worth when you saved me that day in the desert." The man's apprenticeship in the Merchant's house is full of blunders, lessons, and painful changes, for it is hard for a Fremen to adjust to a city's life. And so after all challenges are overcome, the man earns not three but four times what the merchant's water is worth, and swiftly goes back to the sands. His wife welcomes him for now they will not be poor anymore, water being more precious than the spice on Dune. But the man finally learns he cannot live in the sietch anymore, the wind does not speak to his soul. They leave for the city. And there he is welcome back by the same merchant. But his wife hates the city. She dies of desert sickness. Desperate, the man goes to the merchant. "I took four times the water. I was greedy. Then I lost my wife. I will give my wife's water to the benefit of the poor. That makes it three times, per our deal. Now let me continue to work in your house." This is how the story ends. The audience then debates the moral. Greed? Betraying your origin? Has the man atoned for his sin? I only knew that Fremen was a fool, for he bargained for water, but the merchant bargained for his soul.
- FREMEN ORAL HISTORY
Scytale had noticed many changes happening inside the no-ship. One day he had awoken to an violent force that pinned him to his bed for minutes, the vibration of tortured metal shaking the ship from stern to bow, revealing they were in motion. He could not access the ship's computers, or else he would have tried to look outside.
He had waited at the transparent barrier that barred his passage into the other areas of the no-ship. Nobody had come for an entire day, then thankfully an acolyte had dropped food.
Odrade had stopped visiting. He had gestured to the occasional passerby to pass a message, but the crew did not bother to pay attention to him.
Then, water was being rationed. A trickle would come out of the sink where before there was abundance.
Then, he picked up subtle new scents in the air.
Several days later, the food he was being served changed. No more the sour and spicy flavors of his Chapterhouse time; he detected unknown flavors and ingredients in what was given him, sweetness, sugar cane, cardamom, cinnamon.
The no-ship has left Chapterhouse! We have stopped at new planets!
The fact that he was still alive meant the Bene Gesserit witches still harbored plans for him. They still longed for the ultimate knowledge, the perfected axolotl tanks. He restlessly paced his quarters back and forth, impatient to fit this new reality in his plans.
Old Waff was tricked by these sisters into believing they shared the same faith, he thought. I must have plans within plans. The witches had the Prophet's sandworm. Such a holiness in powindah's hands. The arrogant Reverend Mothers posed as believers but their actions betrayed them as outcasts. They could speak the sacred Islamiyat language only Tleilaxu Masters used, but they did not belong in the kehl. No brotherhood with… these fake sisters. And yet, they sounded so convincing at times!
The transparent barrier vanished for a moment, letting three Sisters in. Visitors.
"It's about time," Scytale took the initiative with a whining tone. "That you let me know what is happening. How soon will I talk to Odrade?" Then gasped at the sight of Sheeana, the sandworm's master, who had just revealed her dark blue eyes and water-poor, Rakis-shaped profile. Beautiful and fierce.
"Odrade is no more, Master Scytale. We are in space. I speak for this ship's crew, the New Sisterhood, and have full powers of negotiation. You need us and yes, we really need you." replied Sheena, sitting on a dog-chair while the Master rested on an inorganic one, the other two sisters taking position right behind him.
"The New Sisterhood?" he inquired.
"We left Chapterhouse for good. We are in the Scattering. We are discussing your position." A finger pointed at him.
This may be the room to maneuver that I need. His zeal forced him to face all challenges as God's trials. The one God, who had sent Leto the Prophet to teach humanity and the Bene Tleilax His terrible lesson. The air, the familiar sounds and smells of Tleilaxu civilization were gone, destroyed in the fury of the Honored Maters, but Scytale knew as long as one Master remained, hope to rebuild the holy order remained. And Tleilaxu ascendancy over the universe.
"You want my axolotl tanks."
"Yes," a smile. "A willing, and complete, transfer of knowledge. The gholas and the spice. And you, Master," she reached out to delicately touch his face, "what do you truly want?"
"My tanks, my Face Dancers and Domels, ways to feel in the company of my people", he ventured. Keep them busy with the tanks, ask for my own to create Face Dancers, and with these excuses get access to the ship's systems. Ixians and Tleilaxu had shared many secrets, and he knew how to backdoor into any terminal to take over control. When I strike it will be swift and unexpected.
"Is that all?" Sheeana pressed, her face getting closer to him, expectant eyes. "How long have you been alone and lonely here?"
If that is her naive attempt at seducing me, she has it all wrong, thought the Master. Powindah thinking! That a creature so soiled with the impurity of the universe could stay this close to a Master without consequence!
But Sheeana did not press this line of inquiry more.
"I do not want you to feel like a prisoner, though we cannot let you go until we have working tanks that can be serviced by my team, with additional time to make sure there is nothing that has been withheld. Quarters, entertainment, food, anything you need to make your stay more comfortable, just name it."
Scytale looked back hesitantly at the Sisters behind him.
"Let me go? And where would you have me go?" ventured.
"Your pick in the Scattering."
"Truly you expect me to believe you will set me free? Childish." challenged Scytale.
"It is my word as a Reverend Mother. Has Odrade ever promised something she did not deliver?"
"Odrade never promised anything!"
"Because she did not want to be obliged to deliver. As you notice, I am sparing you all the talk about religion. This is strictly speaking a business proposition. In friendly terms. You will be free when you have served us and your departure cannot trace back to us. It may even be a decade. But the knowledge, that we want now."
"A decade?"
"Is that much to ask of a man several millennia old?"
So much easier than I ever hoped for, thought Scytale, but there will be a trap hidden in the deal. And yet, my tanks can spring a trap as well. And with his hand he rubbed pensively the area on his chest where the nullentropy capsule was hidden. Below his skin, impenetrable to probes, stood a capsule that contained all the Tleilaxu's civilization: blueprints, cell samples of all the great Masters, as well as countless heroes of old: the Duncans, Gurney Halleck, Thufir Hawat, Leto I and II, Paul Atreides, Jessica, even the Baron Harkonnen… many ways to set worlds afire with the true word of God. My brothers, I will bring you back into existence. Then you will ask me to perform ghufran, purify my soul and body from the contact with the lawless Powindah, and I will set in kehl with you and feel the presence of God.
"Curious." commented one of the Sisters.
"Yes?" asked Sheeana.
"He always rubs that area in his chest. The body does what the mind thinks."
Heavens! He froze, then blurted out: "Let's see how serious you are then! Here are my immediate demands: the food is inadequate. I am to be relocated in bigger quarters with rooms prepared for the work. I need to be able to call you. And a Reverend Mother to volunteer for my experiments."
"Forget it!" laughed Sheeana, standing up. "I am not sacrificing any of us for your tank business. But the rest is granted."
This one is either a bad negotiator, or they must be pushed against a corner. What do they need?
"Then we are in agreement, Reverend Mother," murmured the Master, feigning consternation.
"I request that the first tank be operative within thirty days. Melange is the first deliverable. Your new benefits are conditional to performance, Master Scytale."
A performance you will never forget, he thought.
Later in his new quarters, over his newfound sweet dinner food, he reflected on the exchange. It had very different tones than what he was used to when negotiating with Odrade. God bless my path, I will restore your religion and the Bene Tleilax. The trials you give me make me stronger. Bless your last master, for he will bring back an entire civilization, and with that the power of your revelation. Much was to be done; firstly, the attempt to create a tank while taking control of the ship; then, the creation of his Face Dancers, finding a suitable planet. He could almost feel the path in front of him. And those new sisters, so naive. And the ghola, but we Tleilaxu have ways to take care of him. For the first time in years, he felt close to joy. A holy joy, he thought. The last Master who will bring the Bene Tleilax back. Scytale, who talked to Muad'Dib and saw the Prophet born! I am the only one, and the first one. May God keep me humble.
Much, much later, he found himself awakening from a turbulent dream. Sweaty. Where was he? Still in his quarters on the no ship. A vague premonition. He tried to rise, but found himself undressed and strapped to the bed. Three soft bodies were on him, next to him. Warmth. He made it to scream, but a hand blocked his throat. They had drugged him! The new food?
"Close your eyes, Master." said one Sister.
"What are you doing to me?" Scytale's muffled voice protested, but he already knew. He resisted but his body was defenseless, out of control; his mind slipped out of his grasp as outrage built up and turned into coerced bliss, a wash of pleasure and agony that overtook him completely for so long that he gasped for breath as his body fell into exhaustion. His brain was left craving blindly for more, even as another part of him tried to focus on loathing it. I have failed to resist these women! He was panting and berating and accusing himself silently. I am your instrument, God, but what challenges do you put in front of me. How can I serve you as a slave of a woman?
"A collateral we require of you. As agreed before, it is all strictly business." whispered a victorious Sheeana. She had wondered if Tleilaxu men were any different. But the sexual imprinting, the long endless ecstasy, and the dependency that they created right there made this Master just a slave as any other. Minutes later, she re-appeared in front of Duncan while lost deep into Mentat concentration. "He is mine," she savored her triumphant words.