Contingency Plans
Us Bene Gesserit refer to it as "Murbella's Stew". It is really chef Placido's creation under the direction of late Reverend Mother Superior Darwi Odrade, but that is not the point. Shortly after the Honored Matres arrived on Chapterhouse, everything R.M.S. Murbella did became a signal of status for them. Walk in the orchards? There must be a deep significance. Spice coffee? Certainly it had mystic powers. Oyster stew? Only the Reverend Mother Superior had it in company with her closest advisors. Suddenly the new Matres/Reverend Mothers went around Central dressed like Murbella, acted like Murbella, chased the same clothing, hairdo, jewelry, vocabulary. Never before we had had a celebrity R.M.S. She kept them hanging by continuously making changes, and keeping some items out of reach. That oyster stew became the most coveted of all in a rapidly desertifying world. And so "Murbella's Stew" became our label for the never-ending, never-satisfying chase for status embodied by petty objects. To pull off a "Placido Salat" is the act of exploiting people's craving for status with manufactured exclusivity.
- THE KRAZELIC COMMENTARIES
"What should we tell the envoy?" Belllonda repeated in a hoarse voice while aide Badrana was serving a light breakfast. Food and drink did go well with decision-making, but Bell was not to make a point with Murbella at that moment. Especially not in front of the recently restored comeyes which were now recording the meeting for the Archives; especially not in front of a full council of both Reverend Mothers and Honored Matres.
"Here, this is a living fossil. A croissant." Disregarding Bell's last comment, Murbella bit on the baked thing, a recipe chef Duane had just brought back from the most ancient times. The councilors sat refraining from touching the food.
The fact that full Reverend Mothers did not need an explanation was not lost on the Matres who were sitting with her and watching Murbella's act of conspicuous consumption. "A fossil from old Terra. Still delicious," she continued while sipping coffee. In a clear break of manners for a Sister, she continued to talk while chewing. Show them power, show them disinhibition. "The trick is to get the crust to be crisp, while the custard needs to be fresh. Ashala, try some," she pointed to the Reverend Mother Ashala, the recently elected Magistra Equitum, who shook her head.
"Respectfully, can we continue, Reverend Mother Superior?" blurted Bell. The rays of the sun had shifted in the room up to a point in the wall that marked the mid-morning, and the window panes became tinted to blur the intensity of the light.
"She is making a point," helped Matre Angelika, playing for her Sisters and the comeyes.
"No matter, we can come back to this," Murbella continued, swallowing down the last bite. "Angelika, you may continue. What do the Matres know about these Handlers from the Scattering?"
Angelika raised her chin, with her full blue eyes induced by the spice addiction which displayed with pride her recently acquired status. The spice agony had produced a new depth in her, though it had not blunt her ambition one bit. Apparent to all the eight councilors standing in the room, Matre Angelika and Magistra Ashala were the yin and yang in the room, Murbella's natural successors.
"Please hear my words, Sisters, as this is information that was not disclosed before even in our ranks," Angelika paused for effect, "Before the meeting of our Orders, we had been on a mad march to the Million Worlds to find respite. Our forces now are effectively a tenth of what they used to be, equipment and manpower-wise. We suffered three large defeats in battle with what we simply call the Hunters, and you call Handlers. This enemy has not directly engaged diplomatically, is superior in terms of weaponry, spacecraft and intelligence. We used to have extensive intelligence on them but our original headquarters on Steilan was destroyed in a surprise attack that wiped out a third of our forces."
Murmurs started around the room among the Matres in attendance. One tenth? No intelligence? Murbella registered this by making eye contact with Bell and Teg. So the extent of the crisis had been kept from most of the Matres by the previous regime.
"What held them back from completely destroying you?" asked Ashala.
"Their style varies from all-in space battles to hit-and-go invasions. They don't generally seem to spend much time establishing control of the planets they have taken from us."
"Any insight as to their government, their aims?"
"We do not know. None of the Matres here today remembers a time where there was a peaceful engagement between them and ours. Fleurinde was the first time they attacked – a massive landing after taking over our orbital forces. After that we have approached them on neutral ground, mostly ineffectively. Ahem,"
"Ineffectively?"
"We tried to capture and bond some, with success; however each time the planet was invaded shortly after and the subjects perished. For the Mentats in the room, the reports on ridulian paper provide details on their tactics and equipment."
"That's enough to digest, Angelika," intervened Murbella. An unhappy Teg put his hands on the report: "A mentat needs data. Give me access to the Matres' spy network, to their archives."
"Granted," it was Angelika and not Murbella who had spoken. That small override was met with concerned looks, then the Matres in the room relaxed. They had just been reassured of their role in the hierarchy. Mentats come after.
"It is important to notice," Ashala took over, "that never before these so called Handlers had reached out to Matres; they established contact on Buzzell with the Bene Gesserit, and them reaching out formally right now gives us the possibility to gain breathing space."
"Against attack? But, we are not Honored Matres!" commented Bell.
"There are no more Mothers, nor Matres, only Sisters." intervened Murbella calmly. "Let us hope we can convince them of this." She stood up, looking at every council member in the eyes, daring them to speak, paused.
Here I rule with silence while the power is still strong in my hand, Murbella thought. She had the Romans to thank. Their Republic was mortally threatened, and the Senate elected a chief magistrate with extraordinary powers. Those were the exact words she had used at the Bene Gesserit Convocation she was forced to hold after the failed attempt at her life. She had stood and formally asked for a vote. "Dictator!" she had said. "My Sisters, you know the Latin meaning: 'the prescriber'. We are dead without change. Our Teachings will last, but our attachments will perish. I urge you to keep me as your prescriber. The comeyes and observers will be reinstated. I also allow you to elect my right hand, the Magistra Equitum. The Romans knew it best". And so it had happened, and Ashala's title had stuck.
A decision was needed, right then. A tremble shook her for a moment. Murbella saw reflected in her retina the faces of thousands of Reverend Mother Memories. She breathed in, proferred the plan like an act of creation:
"Teg and I will meet the envoy in person. On Gammu."
Bell shook her head: "Too dangerous."
"I trust Teg to prepare arrangements. I need to lead by example. Angelika, yours is to check if among our Matres' assets there is talent to be found to condition our captive Futars to hunt Face Dancers," the Matre nodded in silence.
"It is just a theory so far," commented Teg, "we don't know that the Handlers are Face Dancers."
"No taking chances," was Murbella's reply.
"The practice of sexual bonding stops today," Murbella continued. "Matres and Imprinters both. I need to show proof of atonement."
The Matres in the room gasped. Atonement?
"Teg, complete the census of the Million Atreides bloodlines. All survivors to be listed in case of evacuation. The Idaho bloodlines too."
"Evacuation, Murbella?"
"Hatch a plan. Both Sisterhoods may have to go underground and Scatter."
"We are not going down without a fight!" protested one of the lesser Matres.
"Are you to be slaughtered on the field while we all watch?" asked Ashala politely.
"Reverend Mother, do we clone Sheeana?" Bell's imagination had already leaped ahead. The Missionaria was going to play a critical role in the Scattering.
"I rule against! We will not duplicate a Sister. Ever. Let us be clear for all the Sisters to hear," the message hung in the air for everybody to absorb. We have the secret of eternal serial life, but we will never use it for ourselves! You could see from their reaction who in the room had hoped to take advantage of the axolotl tanks.
"I order every Matre on every planet to submit to the Agony in the next ninety days. Take every care that as many as possible will survive."
"Whoever refuses, let them join the splinter Sisters," suggested Angelika. Feed the enemy of our enemy. Teg nodded.
"So be it. Reverend Mother Bellonda, the agony will need much spice. See to it."
She looked back at the wild gazes of her Councilors, roared: "Let it be clear that I will be a wolf hiding in sheep skin. Does anybody want to challenge me? Challenge me now!"
She sat back down on her chair, muscles ready to leap, but in reality she had merely ended the meeting. In wild discomfort, the councilors exited the room, hiding their emotions with Bene Gesserit elegance. Only Bell was lingering, staring for some reasons at the crumbles on the table.
"We cannot risk you, Murbella. How is Dar counseling you?"
"Do you wish me weak? I will not hide behind a chair while mortal forces are at work. But I am not a gambler, and Teg will assist me. The Sisterhood has become one of these food fossils, Bell. Delicious in their own times. Adapt or die is the first rule of life. Badrana, lunch in my quarters."
"Oyster stew again, Reverend Mother Superior?"
"The accursed stew, yes. And make sure you make a big spectacle of it at the cafeteria."