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ghola existence. The darting and twisting of awareness was all internal now.
Teg's instructors had said: "He will have ghola-imposed filters on his pre-
ghola memories. Some of the original memories will come flooding back. Other
recollections will return more slowly. There will be no meshing, though, until
he recalls that original moment of death." Bellonda had then given Teg the
known details of that fatal moment.
"Sardaukar," Duncan whispered. He looked around him at the Harkonnen symbols
that permeated the no-globe. "The Emperor's crack troops wearing Harkonnen
uniforms!" A wolfish grin twisted his mouth. "How they must have hated that!"
Teg remained silently watchful.
"They killed me," Duncan said. It was a flatly unemotional statement, all the
more chilling for its positive delivery. A violent shudder passed through him
and the trembling subsided. "At least a dozen of them in that little room." He
looked directly at Teg. "One of them got through at me like a meat cleaver
right down on my head." He hesitated, his throat working convulsively. His
gaze remained on Teg. "Did I buy Paul enough time to escape?"
"Answer all of his questions truthfully."
"He escaped."
Now, they came to a testing moment. Where had the Tleilaxu acquired the Idaho
cells? The Sisterhood's tests said they were original, but suspicions remained.
The Tleilaxu had done something of their own to this ghola. His memories could
be a valuable clue to that thing.
"But the Harkonnens . . ." Duncan said. His memories from the Keep meshed.
"Oh, yes. Oh, yes!" A fierce laugh shook him. He sent a roaring victory shout
at the long-dead Baron Vladimir Harkonnen: "I paid you back, Baron! Oh, I did
it to you for all of the ones you destroyed!"
"You remember the Keep and the things we taught you?" Teg asked.
A puzzled frown drew deep crease lines across Duncan's forehead. Emotional pain
warred with his physical pains. He nodded in response to Teg's question. There
were two lives, one that had been walled off behind the axlotl tanks and another
. . . another . . . Duncan felt incomplete. Something remained suppressed
within him. The reawakening was not finished. He stared angrily at Teg. Was
there more? Teg had been brutal. Necessary brutality? Was this how you had to
restore a ghola?
"I . . ." Duncan shook his head from side to side like a great wounded animal
in front of the hunter.
"Do you have all of your memories?" Teg insisted.
"All? Oh, yes. I remember Gammu when it was Giedi Prime -- the oil-soaked,
blood-soaked hell hole of the Imperium! Yes, indeed, Bashar. I was your
dutiful student. Regimental commander!" Again, he laughed, throwing his head
back in an oddly adult gesture for that young body.
Teg experienced the sudden release of a deep satisfaction, far deeper than
relief. It had worked as they said it would.
"Do you hate me?" he asked.
"Hate you? Didn't I tell you I would be grateful?"
Abruptly, Duncan lifted his hands and peered at them. He shifted his gaze
downward at his youthful body. "What a temptation!" he muttered. He dropped
his hands and focused on Teg's face, tracing the lines of identity. "Atreides,"
he said. "You're all so damned alike!"
"Not all," Teg said.
"I'm not talking about appearance, Bashar." His eyes went out of focus. "I
asked my age." There was a long silence, then: "Gods of the deep! So much
time has passed!"
Teg said what he had been instructed to say: "The Sisterhood has need of you."
"In this immature body? What am I supposed to do?"
"Truly, I don't know, Duncan. The body will mature and I presume a Reverend
Mother will explain matters to you."
"Lucilla?"
Abruptly, Duncan looked up at the ornate ceiling, then at the alcove and its
baroque clock. He remembered coming here with Teg and Lucilla. This place was
the same but it was different. "Harkonnens," he whispered. He sent a glowering
look at Teg. "Do you know how many of my family the Harkonnens tortured and
killed?"
"One of Taraza's Archivists gave me a report."
"A report? You think words can tell it?"
"No. But that was the only answer I had to your question."
"Damn you, Bashar! Why do you Atreides always have to be so truthful and
honorable?"
"I think it's bred into us."
"That's quite right." The voice was Lucilla's and came from behind Teg.
Teg did not turn. How much had she heard? How long had she been there?
Lucilla came up to stand beside Teg but her attention was on Duncan. "I see
that you've done it, Miles."
"Taraza's orders to the letter," Teg said.
"You have been very clever, Miles," she said. "Much more clever than I
suspected you could be. That mother of yours should have been severely punished
for what she taught you."
"Ahhhh, Lucilla the seductress," Duncan said. He glanced at Teg and returned
his attention to Lucilla. "Yes, now I can answer my other question -- what
she's supposed to do."
"They're called Imprinters," Teg said.
"Miles," Lucilla said, "if you have complicated my task in ways that prevent me
from carrying out my orders, I will have you roasted on a skewer."
The emotionless quality of her voice sent a shudder through Teg. He knew her
threat was a metaphor, but the implications in the threat were real.
"A punishment banquet!" Duncan said. "How nice."
Teg addressed himself to Duncan: "There's nothing romantic about what we've
done to you, Duncan. I've assisted the Bene Gesserit in more than one
assignment that left me feeling dirty, but never dirtier than this one." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]