"What was the God-Emperor's lesson?"
"Only the non-human can rule the human."
- THE RIDDLES OF OLD RAKIS
"This meeting never happened."
It was dark in the facility. That is how it was called. Just "the facility", a former Secret Israel warehouse now managed by Miles Teg and his crew. Rebecca noted how the Sayyadina had not taken a seat in the small space she had opened the door to for them, every gesture betraying restlessness. Countless Memories inside her surfaces to teach, to admonish, to guide; compelling her to come to the side of the ordained acolyte. Yet she reminded all of those lives inside that she had chosen her own path.
"How long must we wait?" she asked aloud. Rabbi Olza and the Sayyadina exchanged shrugs, revealing their long-standing acquaintanceship. The Rabbi's reserved curiosity for the Bene Gesserit had been oh so slightly satiated in the months they had spent together aboard the ship. To be able to get straight answers from the most imperscrutable Reverend Mothers, through her, had had the subtle effect to leave her wanting for more. Now, the Rabbi could be so easily swayed to the Bene Gesserit ways... That is, if only her role was to open the gate. But not her, not now: she stood across the bottomless divide of Israel's Other Memory spanning thousands of worlds, and the Lampadas Horde and fearless Lucilla riding along it. The integration was not easy. Even in this moment she could sense the late Reverend Mother arise in her consciousness to appeal to her. No, Lucilla. I have chosen my role. I am to be the Lady of the Crossing, stuck in the middle of two worlds. I will choose my allegiances.
And this loyal Sayyadina, whose hopes to experience the Agony had floundered as her Mothers perished before her, spice-starved. Did she realize she survived because she was not a spice-addicted full Sister? Yet her world had been rocked, too, as the giant no-ship had materialized. Now she hopes, and hope brings fear, thought Rebecca. And just behind, Leyana the Pythian, the voice from the wilderness the Sayyadina had embraced and enshrined in the sacred oracle, muttering incomprehensibly, her eye sockets shut and sightless.
Their heads lifted at the sound of solitary footsteps echoing down the hallway. Red-polished nails adorning delicate feet appeared around the corner, clasped in thin black sandals; then a sensual but muscular leg, then the rest of the Houri crossed the threshold. Uncharacteristically cautious, she displayed none of her usual flamboyance and ostentation. She stood there, exuding a sense of pride, yet remaining open and receptive. At last, she broke the silence, her voice resolute, "You summoned me, and here I am."
Rebecca mused, realizing that this was the Houri behind the facade. Soon, they would meet the true Eilanna—the astute businesswoman.
"I thank you, Sayyadina, for convening us at this... unconventional but secure place," Rabbi Olza began. "And I extend my gratitude to you, Houri Eilanna, representative of the Goddess, for heeding our summons."
The Sayyadina interjected, her tone filled with humility, "I acknowledge that there have been disagreements between us in the past."
"You have my undivided attention," the Houri reassured.
"We have learned it is you we owe our gratitude, Houri, for the swift release of our Sheeana," the Sayyadina continued, her voice reflecting a newfound appreciation.
"One of yours, I have learned. A woman with immense potential.I would have been remiss to leave her in the hands of the Cordians. They are very adept at pain and death," the Houri replied, her composure unwavering. Did they want to play the game of redirection? She was not new to that. "If you must know, my Order is deeply troubled by the sudden proliferation of religious fervor across the planet. It caught us off guard, spreading like a subliminal virus overnight. All hail the prophetess."
"Even the Cordians seemed to have grown cautious in the wake of these events," Rebecca interjected.
"Nobody should harbor illusions about the Cordian's resolve," Eilanna retorted.
"The streets have run with blood," added Rebecca.
"The extent to which this is fueled by religious fervor or the upheaval caused by foreign armies is anyone's guess".
"Sheeana's freedom has established an unsteady truce."
"And can that woman truly ensure anything?" Eilanna challenged, her tone accusatory. "The mobs incite arson in her name. Is she controlling the fanatics, or are they controlling her?" She shook her head.
"If you care about keeping the faithful in check, we need your help for Sheeana to be granted access to the Temple of Dur," asked the Sayyadina.
"Ah, there it is," the Houri replied cynically. "I do not hold sway over the Cordians or the Tailarons." Eilanna's eyes darted around the room. Could it be that they suspected?
"Do the Tailarons seek the counsel of the Goddess?" inquired Rabbi Olza.
"Perhaps they may be," responded the Houri.
The three women around the Houri exchanged glances.
"Time is short, and we should delve into the heart of the matter," stated the Houri, taking a seat and motioning for the others to do the same. Establish a pecking order, she recalled. By the manual.
The Sayyadina once more took the lead: "In the light of your friendship, and your friendship with the Cordians, the Bene Gesserit and other related groups represented here asked me to intercede with you to discuss... worst case scenarios."
"Yet the Sayyadina seemed so sure of herself a few months ago."
"Much has changed, Houri, with the landing of troops from both factions."
"And the... production," the Houri hesitated, uncertain if she could openly discuss the matter.
"We can speak openly. My associates here know about spice production."
"Too many individuals involved in a perilous secret."
"Yet it is a secret we have chosen to share with you."
"Only for your own benefit. You see, the Cordian Ambassador continues to eagerly receive your spice shipments, while taking no action to mitigate the impending blow that the Cordian army is expected to deliver. He even requested another litrejon," she remarked, her tone filled with disdain.
"Only for your own profit. You see, the Cordian Ambassador continues to this date to receive your spice with enthusiasm, but does nothing to soften the blow it expects the Cordian army to deliver. He asked for another litrejon," she noted.
The Sayyadina's heart sank upon hearing the news. "We can see no advantage in our..."
"Bribes? Yes, they won't work, but now you can't stop them either. Keli will soon become the richest planetary praetor in Cordia, do you realize? He will eagerly size your clandestine operations and use their wealth to make a bid for the triumvirate. Granted, he may not be half as clever to have deduced this yet, but he will. You believed you possessed the golden goose, but you did not know of the foxes not far behind. This brings me to the point: what proposal do you have?"
"We wish to discuss an escape route in the event of an all-out war on the planet."
Once again, the other women in the room exchanged glances. The Pythian's eyes remained closed, while the Sayyadina let out a sigh. The Houri couldn't help but wonder who these women were. Witches of the same coven? The Bene Gesserit had many minions too. A sense of unease began to creep in as she sensed that there was more going on than met the eye.
"We beg the Goddess to provide us safe conduct."
"And who exactly is included in this 'we'?"
"The Bene Gesserit and religious minorities seeking protection. We are concerned about an escalation of violence."
"My Order has no soldiers."
"We know," the Sayyadina replied. "You don't need to."
"You are asking me to break my contract with the Cordians."
"Is your promise the Order's promise? Doesn't the Goddess stay neutral?"
"Stop the fuss. Why don't you go over to the Cordians? They will embrace you."
"Maybe, but not our faith," replied one of the women. "The Cordians are not keen on importing new religions."
Ahh, the Houri thought. Some underground sects were seeking an escape. The Cordians had little tolerance for any religion but Dur's. The Tailarons, with their state atheism, offered no alternative either. Yet, she replied: "Some favors can be bought."
"I would rather offer one of our spice tanks to the Goddess than allow a foreign force to capture our entire operation," the Sayyadina replied.
The Houri managed to remain impassive. "And the payment would also ensure our continued silence?"
"Precisely."
The Houri paused. These Bene Gesserit were solely driven by business interests. Perhaps the legends were mistaken? Their wonderful mysticism, reduced to calculations of cost and benefit. At least the Houris held unwavering beliefs, an aim that hovered over the inevitable soiling of the buying and selling. She pitied the Sayyadina and her Suk mentality. It was time for her to speak. The waiting had already revealed that she possessed the means for an escape.
"An escape will be arranged, and in advance, you will transfer a tank," the Houri declared.
"My lady." It was the other blue-eyed woman in the room who spoke, breaking her silence for the first time.
"Another Reverend Mother?" the Houri inquired.
"Rebecca, Lady. If we fulfill our end of the bargain, what guarantees will the Goddess provide?" the woman asked.
"We will withhold the intel on how to operate the tank," the Sayyadina quickly responded. "If the Goddess breaches the agreement, the tank will be rendered useless."
"Inevitable. How many people?"
"One thousand."
"All of you? All the Bene Gesserit and their minions?"
"We can't speak for Sheeana."
Ah.
"Nobody can," the Houri replied. "But the Goddess will not move unless Sheeana leaves with you."
The Sayyadina felt a lump in her throat and took a deep breath. "She will comply," she lied.
"She will, if she wishes to save these lives. You have the Goddess' assurance," Eilanna the Houri interjected a little too eagerly. She gently took the Sayyadina's arm and planted a kiss on her cheek, then smiled. "It is settled. The seal of the Goddess is upon you. It is time for me to depart. In times of war, lengthy meetings are death sentences." The Sayyadina walked alongside the Houri, guiding her towards the exit, as the weight of their arrangement sank in.
"She agreed too quickly," Rebecca whispered once they were certain they were out of earshot.
"Greed. Perhaps she will use the spice to elevate herself as the new Goddess," Rabbi Olza mused.
"She was quicker than greed," Rebecca shook her head, "and the cost is high."
"Best to cultivate other ways out of here, Rabbi Olza suggested, extending her arm to guide the Pythian. "The fervor," she squealed.
Rebecca sensed the weight of an entire planet teetering on the brink of revelation. "The Pythian's instincts are right. The conflict could escalate quickly," she observed. "We must warn Hilom."
Hilom remains deaf, my dear," Olza replied, enveloping Rebecca under her other arm. "It's our duty to protect these lives."
"The People may be reluctant to leave," Rebecca noted as the trio made their way through the dimly lit hallway. '
"But they will leave. There are other planets we can call home. For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for a life-time; weeping may tarry for the night, but joy cometh in the morning," Olza quoted.
"Alongside the Bene Gesserit allies?" Rebecca inquired.
"You were the one who reminded me of the alliance we forged with them. They have never broken it, have they?" "Never, Rabbi Olza," Rebecca confirmed out of Other Memory. Their footsteps echoed softly as they navigated the warehouse's intricate corridors, retracing their path: third right, second left...
"They have a saying in the Seeking, my dear Reverend Mother: A woman can be a traveler, a wanderer, or a fugitive; the distinction lies in her mindset."
"In the Old Imperium we also said: If any of thine that are dispersed be in the uttermost parts of the heaven, from thence will the Lord thy God gather thee, and… bring thee into the land which thy fathers possessed."
The Pythian momentarily emerged from her inner wanderings, trembling. "The Mount of Olives," she declared.
Unable to contain her curiosity, Rabbi Olza whispered to Rebecca, "Rebecca, what is this Sheeana? Another Bene Gesserit creation?"
"She is the one and only, the true Sheeana," Rebecca replied.
"The Rakian Morningstar? Sheeana the Martyr?" the Rabbi asked, her voice filled with doubt.
"The same the Dur priesthood worships."
"Yes, the same Sheeana who is revered and worshiped by the Dur priesthood," Rebecca confirmed.
"The Worm Rider," the Pythian muttered under her breath.
The Rabbi was disturbed. "I cannot explain what I witnessed in the Temple of Dur."
"Jerusalem on the east," warned the Pythian.
They had reached a sealed glass door by which they stopped. There were red and blue lights seeping through.
"We must have turned the wrong way, Rabbi," said Rebecca, slightly bewildered.
"The wrong way!" exclaimed the Pythian, her body shivering.
A buzzing noise resonated through the air gap in the door, causing the Rabbi to pause, confused. "What purpose does Miles Teg have of this facility?" she asked aloud Then she turned to the Pythian, whose hand she held firmly in her own left. "Did you say Jerusalem to the east?"
The Pythian straightened up in the dim red lights, her grip on Olza's hand tightening, and changed in a contralto voice: "And in that day His feet will stand on the Mount of Olives, which faces Jerusalem on the east. And the Mount of Olives shall be split in two, from east to west, making a very large valley; half of the mountain shall move toward the north and half of it toward the south."
"How do you know Zechariah's Book, Pythian?" Rabbi Olza inquired.
"Curious," commented Rebecca. "Do you know Lat translates to olive grove mountain in old Galach?"
The Pythian continued to chant, oblivious to the Rabbi's words, her vacant eyes staring into the distance as she proclaimed:"And it shall come to pass afterward that I will pour out my spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions."
"And Lat is split between forces," she observed. The Rabbi put a hand on the door handle. The lights flickered. The door did not move.
"Do not cross!" wailed the Pythian, her chest heaving.
"We'd better ba..." said Rebecca. But her voice was overshadowed by a man's surprised gasp coming from behind them.
"What are you all doing here?" The white uniform and yellow insignia stood out in the low light of the corridor right where Commissioner Hilom had appeared with three armed guards.
"Hilom! You look like an apparition! But just in time. Help us find a way out of here." exclaimed Olza, her relief palpable.
"My men followed the Houri to this facility."
"Make sure she leaves safely. We invited her here to talk," replied Olza sternly.
"You? And..." he looked at Rebecca, then the Pythian, and added "...and the Sayyadina too?"
"Isn't this our facility, Hilom?" Olza questioned.
"The Commissioner thought the Houri met with the Sayyadina and Miles Teg," Rebecca deduced.
"You thought wrong," replied Olza.
"I see. Come with me and let's talk in a safer place," replied the Commissioner, waving them to come."
"I see too, old friend! You thought you implicated Miles Teg in some subterfuge. Well, you caught me! But I will explain to you and to our people. Why don't you focus your attention on the Cordians?"
"Commissioner, why isn't this place safe?" inquired Rebecca.
A clang came from behind. Turning around, Rebecca saw the Pythian had crossed the threshold and slammed the door behind her, her figure dark against the blue lights of the next room.
"Where did she go?" asked the Commissioner.
"I will grab her," said Rebecca, "she is not herself."
The door was mysteriously unlocked and slid open effortlessly under Rebecca's touch, revealing a spacious room with towering ceilings and a dozen metallic silos arranged in a circular formation. The room hummed with the buzz of machinery, shattering the stillness.
Rebecca hurried to the Pythian's side, finding her kneeling on the cold floor, her mouth agape.
"The daughters of Israel will be blessed with wisdom, and they will all be righteous, each and every one," the Pythian murmured with a trembling voice.
"Leyana, what do you see?"
The crazed woman raised a finger. "The daughters of Israel will be there and the prophet shall find refuge among them. For she shall judge between the nations, and shall decide disputes for many peoples; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore."
"She?" demanded Rabbi Olza, "Pythian, it is not respectful to invoke and twist our scriptures..."
"She comes!" cried out the Pythian. "The prophet at the end of time! Announced by the twelve angels of rage!" Rabbi Olza approached, replaying in front of her eyes the memory of a woman standing on an altar in the unholy temple of Dur.
"Shh!" commanded Hilom. For a moment they forgot about the trance-like seer on the floor and shifted their attention to the rest of the room.
"If this is our warehouse..." started Rebecca. Then stopped, listening to the counsel of her inner lives, and her face froze in a mask of surprise.
A moan was heard.
Was that heavy breathing, intermixed with the pumping action of a piston?
"Climb on top of these structures," the Commissioner ordered his men. They ran bewildered, with arms in hand, up the ladders that circled the silos, aimed the lights of their weapons down, hesitated, aimed again. "Commissioner, you must see this for yourself," the braver of them called out.
As he reached the top of the ladder, his eyes searched only to find large, white eyes, each the size of a fist, staring back at him from the other edge of the platform. In the blue light he saw that the eyes belonged to a face the length of a forearm, devoid of hair. The abnormal face connected to a giant flaccid body network of whirring cables. A gaping mouth, silent yet perpetually inhaling and exhaling, dominated its features. A clear liquid churned underneath in an open tank - while the creature's exposed pink skin revealed a network of pulsing veins. From its massive breasts, each the size of Hilom's head, a mesmerizing blue substance oozed forth, permeating the air with the distinct aroma of cinnamon.
"Kull Wahad! The spice tank..." stuttered the Commissioner, "... is a woman..."
Among the stupified silence, the Pythian's crazed laughter raised and fell, lashing their disconcerted minds with the viciousness of a curse.